#something tells me this meeting is going to escalate a bit more

[julesnichols]

Okay bear with me here because I've got brain fog and tend to word salad but I'm gonna try my fucking best--

Everyone who insists that shipping/romance isn't the point of Severance and that anyone who ships is missing the REAL point about what capitalism does is also missing the fucking point, because it's BOTH

Because yes, it's about what capitalism does and the evils of giant corporations. But it's also about love, and specifically two things about love:

1. That falling in love when you're not supposed to, when you're trapped in hell, is one of the most revolutionary things you can do in a system that wants to crush you into dust. In a system that wants you to obey, loving somebody instead of giving in or giving up IS the most revolutionary choice you can make. This corporation can tell you that you're less than human, they can torture you, but you can still carve out a life and a family and find romantic love, too

and

2. That you cannot create a version of yourself that exists solely to do labor for his entire life so that you can cease to exist for forty hours of the week to escape your grief, and not face the consequences of that action

I think I've made my point about the first one enough as is, so let me just get into the second a bit more:

Mark Scout was choking on his grief over losing Gemma. He drowned himself in alcohol to cope, and either lost or left his job that he loved. He took a job that involved brain surgery to split his consciousness in half rather than confront his grief head on; he can choose not to exist for forty hours of his week, and spend the other hours either drunk out of his mind or asleep (the consequences of drinking being something that bleed into his innie as well).

I think that anyone who's dealt with a traumatic and painful loss can relate to why he would do such a thing. Isn't it understandable, if you had a way to not exist for a while, that you would take it without hesitation? That if you were drowning and confronting it would mean more pain before it got better, you'd run from it if you could?

But what Severance wants us to do is go beyond sympathizing with Mark Scout: it asks us to consider the consequences. Because in severing himself for a reason people can sympathize with him for, he created a version of himself that exists solely to work for his entire life, with no breaks, no rest, and torture tactics when he fucks up-- no matter how small the fuck up may be.

A version of himself without his memories, who has trickles of his grief but none of the love to go with it. Who falls in love with someone he meets down there, because Mark S. was created so that Mark Scout could avoid his grief and his love for Gemma. And thus, Mark S. moved on, because he never knew anything else.

Then Mark Scout finds out that Gemma is alive. He reintegrates without his innie's consent, because he views Mark S. as inferior to him and entitled to his memories. Their relationship is inherently exploitative.

Mark S. and Helly's relationship progresses further. Helena Eagan stalks Mark Scout. And here's something that gets me: you have to have your head buried six feet deep in the fucking sand to not see that they were flirting.

A sane person would've run when Helena awkwardly bragged about who she was and offered to bring Mark Scout to her father. But Mark Scout escalates it, turning it into a flirtatious joke about her taking him home to dad. And yes, he does ultimately go for more brain surgery because he feels guilty and spooked that he was flirting with Helena. Because he escalated the flirting.

Again, you have to be deep in denial to not see that. It relates back to the point about how he feels entitled to his innie's memories and experiences: he feels guilty and unsettled, so he tries to absorb more of them in hopes of more glimpses of Gemma to help him find and save her.

Again, can't you sympathize with that?

And again, the show asks you to consider the ramifications beyond that.

(note: I am on the side that innies and outies aren't cut and dry separate people as they are the same base people with different memories and lived experiences, akin to amnesia)

The first thing that Mark Scout remembers is Mark S. having sex with Helly, specifically as he watches her orgasm for the first time while he's inside of her. An extremely intimate moment, and it's intentional that it's that and not another flash of Gemma. Because the show, once again, is asking the audience to consider the consequences of Mark Scout's actions in severing himself.

And Mark S. recognizes that Mark Scout is exploiting him at the end! Mark Scout demands he find Gemma, save her, and be willing to die (because even if he reintegrates, NEITHER of them will be the same-- I'll come back to this in a sec). He belittles what Mark S. has with Helly and the life he's made for himself. He dehumanizes him. Because Mark Scout created Mark S. to escape, to do labor for him, and again-- he wanted to use him to get Gemma and then cast him aside, furthering how he dehumanizes and exploits him... and there are consequences to that action.

Back to the thing about reintegration I said I'd get back to: the characters within show, and quite frankly a large swath of the audience, thinks that it's Mark Scout absorbing Mark S.'s memories, and just still being Mark Scout with those memories. And yet, the show has shown us that this isn't the case. Petey says his earliest memories of the severed floor feel as far back as his childhood! What I think reintegration does, is create a new version of innie and outie, with both their memories. And that it's probably reliant more on harmony of goals and desires than forcing it; but again, the outies view the innies as inferior. Even the people in the show who claim to advocate against severance don't consider the innies human enough to consider what'll happen to them.

And so of course Mark S. chooses himself for the first time in his life at the end of the season. Because once again, the show asks you to look beyond the surface and consider the consequences.

And yet, too much of the audience also subconsciously (or consciously sometimes tbh) thinks of innies as subhuman, and miss the entire fucking point. Yes, there are obnoxious shippers; there always fucking are in large fandoms, use the block button as God intended. But you are being equally obnoxious and obtuse if you insist that the show does not want us to consider love and romance, too. Because again, it's about both the evils of capitalism and how revolutionary love can be, and how you cannot escape your actions. You cannot separate those two themes, because the show uses the romances in the show as vehicles to explore the evils and consequences of capitalism.

So stop fucking saying everybody who ships things doesn't understand the show, and actually watch it yourself, because clearly you don't either.

[veni-vici-vetinari]

Go Vimes and save your patrician from these “vey respectable” lords.

[propertyofwicked]

THIS IS US - LN

warnings: smut throughout!! MDNI!! unprotected sex, little bit of jealous!lando

snippets of lando and his girls sex life throughout the years of their relationship! <3 (can be read as a fewtrell!reader but it's not discussed)

masterlist the playlist

the first time -

y/n remembered her first time with lando like it was yesterday. the two of them, freshly 19 and still friends at the time, found themselves cuddled up on the sofa in his and max’s shared house. their friends slept dotted around the house, many of them drunk and sleeping in the first place their body stumbled into.

there’d always been a sense of something more between the two, friends from a young age, attached at the hip. they were close, too close for friends, max would tell him constantly - raising his eyebrows every time he caught them wrapped up in each other on the couch, or when they entwined their hands at any given opportunity. everyone around them had given up trying to push the two together, hoping they would come to their senses soon.

their first time happened so naturally, it was quite sweet actually. her head resting on his shoulder, as they sat together, her eyes staring wide up at his face. it was that moment he decided to go for it, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. he half expected her to push him off, but found himself pleasantly surprised when she kissed him back, escalating the kiss till she was straddling his lap.

“not here,” she remembered him whispering in her ear, pulling her up from his lap as he lead the two of them to his room. the two of them resuming there position on his bed, lando resting his back on the headboard, palms covering her waist as she hovered over his cock.

“-wait!” she panicked slightly, “i don’t know how to-”

“it’s ok, you’re fine. just breathe, ill guide you. go slow, yeah?” he reassured her. in the heat of the moment he had forgotten this was her first time with anyone, let alone him, and yet she’d decided to get on top.

y/n remembered lowering down on him, his grip on her hips allowing him to fill her slowly. lando distinctly remembered her shy moans, the way she tried to stay quiet, aware of the amount of people in the house.

“fuck me, angel. so tight,” he’d said, grunting slightly as she got lower, fighting to keep his hips still whilst she grew accustomed to the stretch, “last bit angel, you can take it.”

“there’s more?” she’d replied, panting slightly as he chuckled at her, “i can’t d-”

she remembered the way their eyes locked as he jutted his hips up into her, filling her whole. he remembered the way her mouth gaped open, and the way her head rolled back as his hands slowly rocked her hips over his length.

lando was gentle with her, kissing her softly throughout, his moans and praises merging together as she grew more confident, falling into a steady rhythm on top of him.

“i love you,” he’d grunted as his hands ran over her skin, trying to remember everything about her - the way she felt, the way she sounded, the way she clenched around his cock when she got closer. she reciprocated his sentiment, neither of them shocked at the revelation.

“you owe me a tenner,” max had said to niran the next day, after he’d found the two of them passed out in lando’s bed, smiling to himself.

getting caught -

the two of them gained more confidence with their sex life the following years. lando knew exactly what she needed, and how to make her fold for him. max had described the two as rabbits, going at it like no one’s business, laughing to himself as the trio constructed a new bedframe - the last one meeting its unfortunate ending when lando had taken out his stress on his girl. her legs had been over his shoulders when they heard a snap! and felt the mattress dipping into the broken slat. the paint on the headboard had long been chipped from the constant banging into the wall behind, and one of the legs was coming lose.

it had been mid-season, the two of them finding themselves in his drivers room after an unfortunate race. y/n had tried consoling him, but being comforting and supportive was not working at the time. he’d come round eventually and talk to her but for now, he had her pressed against the wall, her cheek pushed up against it. her skirt had simply been tugged up around her hips, panties to the side as he pushed into her from behind, roughly thrusting as he muttered curses under his breath. his hand was about to snake around her waist to toy with her clit when the door flung open.

“land- OH SHIT!” a voice had called out before dissolving into giggles, followed by the door slamming shut again. the shocked face of daniel ricciardo, followed by his distinct laugh, was something y/n was sure would never leave her brain. the interruption hadn’t bothered lando, the two of them were both covered enough for daniel to have seen too much, and so he took it in his stride, bringing them both to a finish soon after.

it had taken a while for y/n to look daniel in the eyes again without wanting to drop dead on the spot, her boyfriend simply smirked at the memory.

club, cameras, cars -

lando’s body was pressed up against hers, packed together in the busy club, their bodies moving in time with the beat. his hands stayed firmly on her waist, telling her it was so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but realistically it had been his way of keeping her close to him. close enough that he could drop his head to hers, joining their lips together in a deep kiss. her tongue dragged along his bottom lip, before her teeth nipped at him, pulling away slowly to catch her breath. his hips grinding into hers, her hands running through his curls.

she was obsessed with him, his unbuttoned shirt, the way his necklace peaked through - she was feral for him.

he looked up momentarily, glad to meet max’s eyes, who directed him to the corner where a man similar in age was filming the interaction between the couple. he leant down to her ear again, so that she could hear him over the loud bass.

“someone filming us,” he told her, feeling her body tense slightly, “you wanna get out of here?”

she’d nodded at him. being filmed by anyone and everyone was nothing new for her, although she wished people would have some concept of privacy. it was somewhat infuriating, but she guessed that was the price she paid for loving the man in front of her. his eyes had softened at her, noticing her anxiety - she didn’t get anxious when people captured them driving around, or just living their normal lives. she did however when such intimate moments were filmed and posted on twitter for the world to see. people had strong opinions - strong opinions that they shared online all whilst hiding their own identities.

they walked next to each other, his hand clutching hers protectively as they said goodbye to max. a few cameras flashed as they walked towards lando’s car, the odd fan approaching him to sign something - they assumed someone had leaked where they were. it was these interactions she didn’t mind, the ones that didn’t make her feel like her whole life was being dissected by the media.

“’m glad max pointed him out,” he started as they climbed into the car, “don’t want to imagine how far i would’ve gone if he hadn’t.”

“you would’ve fucked me in the middle of a club?” she spluttered out, turning to stare at him as he pulled onto the main road.

“i’d fuck you anywhere, angel,” he replied with a shrug.

“you are the pr teams worst nightmare,” she joked, shaking her head at him again.

“hey!” he defended, “since when did loving my girlfriend become a crime?”

“it’s not,” she conceded, smirking to herself at her next statement, “the real crime is the fact you’re not pulling into that lay-by right now.”

“i- wha-,” he stuttered, taken aback at her boldness, “here? right now?”

“why not? there’s no one around.”

he didn’t bother indicating, pulling the car into the side lane, and hurrying to turn the lights off. his free hand adjusted the seat, rolling it back as far as it went before reaching over to grab the woman besides him. she clambered over the centre console, landing not-so graciously on his lap.

the whole interaction was messy and lacking in any decorum. his cock was deep inside her, stretching her out as he thrusted up into her. with every bounce her knees hit the side of the door or the centre console, sure to bring bruises to the skin from the sheer impact. she leant forwards into him, his hands trailing under her dress to squeeze at her breasts.

“baby, lean back a bit,” he had told her, desperate to see her face.

“lan, if i lean any further back im gonna hit the horn,” she said, still adjusting herself to lean up.

“you can hit my horn,” he retorted, giggling to himself at the childish joke.

“don’t make jokes when you’re inside me,” she begged, sighing at the man in front of her.

the counter -

y/n had remembered their move to monaco fondly, lando had been living there for a few months before she made the move herself. she recalled the heartfelt goodbye with her family and friends, her entire life packed into boxes and a suitcase as she moved to a country she’d never even visited. the move felt right, especially after 3 years together - 2 months of long distance was hard enough, neither of them could imagine spending anymore time apart. she’d set herself up as a small time content creator, working closely within quadrant to build up a sufficient income to support herself in between races. lando’s fans loved the snippets of domestic lando, but they also appreciated her wicked sense of humour and her biased insight on the world of motorsport.

once she’d settled into life at the new flat, traces of her personality dotted around, the woman found herself on facetime to her mum giving her a virtual tour.

lando had been out of the flat, spending his morning training, returning home sweaty but overjoyed to hear the sounds of his girlfriends voice travelling through their home. taking the opportunity to sneak up on her, he crept around the hallway, moving quietly towards the kitchen.

“praying my B in french GCSE is gonna come in hand- AH!” y/n yelped, almost dropping her phone as lando pounced on her shoulders, shouting boo! as he did. the older woman on the phone laughed as her daughters face went from startled to glaring at the boy behind her.

“i better leave you two be,” her mum had told them, smiling at the camera and waving slightly to the couple. the shock of her youngest child announcing that she was moving to a different country was wearing off gradually - the happiness of her daughter being with someone she’d secretly rooted for their entire childhood taking over.

“bye mum!” “bye y/m/n!”

y/n had placed the phone beside her, leaning back to rest on the counter. lando had fallen into her embrace, hands wrapping around her waist as he pressed kisses across her entire face. she leant into the kiss, joining their lips together in what had started so innocently. in what had started as such a wholesome day, talking to her mum about the new flat and spending time with the man she loved, quickly turned into something much more.

he’d soon noticed how the counter perfectly lined up with her waist, smirking into her lips as they kissed, before his hands twisted her waist, turning her by the hip until she was pressed up against the marble. her back arching as he bent her over, grinding her ass into him as she did. he’d tugged at her jeans, pulling them down her legs slowly, her lace panties following soon after. he’d allowed her a moment to step out of them, kicking her clothes across the kitchen floor, before kicking her feet further apart. his strong hand gripped her hip, stabilising her frame as he guided his cock through her folds, covering it in her slick before pushing himself into her fully. she moaned out for him, her hands searching for anything to grip onto for support, settling on wrapping around the coffee machine.

the counter pushed on her lower stomach, the pressure sending waves through her body as she tightened around him. he grunted at the feeling, his fingers finding their way to her clit, falling into a natural rhythm as he always did. lando knew her body like it was his own, he could map every bump, every scar, every freckle that adorned her skin. he knew where she needed him, and how.

“im gonna cum,” she’d whimpered pathetically, embarrassed at how quickly she fell apart for him.

“already?” he asked cockily, his hand landing harshly on her ass. lando took her moment of shock to run his hand up her back, his fingers settling at the base of her hair. he gripped at the roots, tugging her entire body back into his, her face settling next to his. he could hear the way she panted, the way his name tumbled from her lips like a mantra.

“always take me so well,” he moaned in her ear, exhaling as he did. the feeling of his breath hitting the skin of her neck sent her over the edge. she fell forwards, legs shaking beneath him.

lando’s hands moved back to her hips, holding her up so that she wouldn’t fall as he pushed her into the counter again. he thrusted into her for a minute more, his pace growing sloppier as he reached his own climax. y/n whined at him, overstimulated and sore - her noises short circuited his brain, and soon after he was filling her up, his cum leaking from the sides as he rode out his own high.

they panted together, lando pulling his cock out as they fought to catch their breath.

“how did we manage to fuck in the kitchen before our actual bedroom?” she chuckled, moving to grab her discarded clothes and shuffling towards the bathroom.

“never gonna be able to cook in here without thinking about this,” he replied with a shake of his head, as he followed her out of the room with a final glance at the counter. the coffee machine now skewed, water puddled around it from where she’d knocked the tank.

“lando norris? cooking? that’ll be the day the world spontaneously combusts,” she teased.

jealousy -

y/n had accompanied lando and max to the motogp event, finding herself in a deep conversation with someone she had hung around with during the karting days. she hadn’t expected to see him there, pleasantly surprised to catch up with an old friend who’d she’d spent a lot of time with growing up. she honestly saw no harm in it, lando and max had disappeared to film content of the day, so she saw no issue in speaking to him rather than sit alone, twiddling her fingers.

lando, however, was fuming not happy. he trusted his girlfriend in any situation, it was other men he didn’t trust, especially when he walked up to find y/n laughing loudly with a man he vaguely recognised.

“y/n, we’re leaving now,” lando told her, clenching his fists at his sides rather than taking her hand.

“oh- ok,” she replied, a little startled at his tone, “bye sam! was lovely seeing you!” she said to the man, turning on her heel to catch up with her boyfriend.

“lovely to see you!” lando mocked childishly when she rejoined his side, “yeah bet he thought it was lovely to see you.”

“what is your problem?” she asked, stopping short of the car, arms crossed over her chest.

“what’s my problem? you. him. the way he looked at you?”

“are you serious?” she asked, taken aback, “he’s an old friend lando. grow up.”

“grow up?” he repeated, “you don’t see me laughing like that with old friends.”

“whatever you do with old friends is not my problem, i trust you to make the right decision. but clearly, you don’t trust me,” she responded, marching past him and climbing in the back of max’s car.

the two barely spoke for days, the silence made worse by the fact they were stuck together in max’s spare room. y/n spent her days with P, lando with max - the other couple desperately trying to speak sense into the two of them, knowing just how stubborn they both could be.

y/n finally believed their spat was over when he settled between her legs, eating at her like a man starved. she was stubborn, but never too stubborn to pass up the chance of his tongue on her heat. his hands gripped at her thighs, his grip leaving bruises on her skin. lando’s tongue swirled around her clit before sucking at her harshly. she was so close, hands gripping at anything - his hair, the bedsheets, his hands. but then she felt nothing, only cold air against her desperate heat as lando pushed himself away and stood up to move across the room.

she sat up on her arms, staring at him in complete disbelief.

“what the fuck lando?”

“you know what you need to do if you wanna cum,” he’d told her, dark eyes staring back at her. he wanted an apology, she wasn’t going to apologise. she’d done nothing wrong.

“good idea, lan. ill see if sam’s free,” she shot back, leaning forward to grab her phone from the bedside table.

that had been her mistake. potentially too brave in the moment, y/n genuinely didn’t know if she regretted even alluding to messaging the man causing the couples squabble.

“i didn’t mean it!” she’d moaned out, feeling his hand slap against the skin of her ass harshly, the feeling sending shots of pleasure back to her core, before he rolled her onto her back once more. he freed his cock quickly, roughly thrusting into her with no warning.

“’m sor- m’sorry,” she said again, her legs pulled harshly over his shoulders as he fucked into her. he wasn’t even mad anymore, yet he rammed into her as if to teach her a lesson, as if he was literally fucking the attitude out of her. she moaned out loudly at the feeling, lando’s grunts like music to her ears.

“you gonna behave now?” he asked her, pace remaining relentless.

“i wi- will,” she choked out, “i promise.”

“good girl, that’s more like it,” he said, satisfied with her remorse as his fingers returned to her clit.

she came hard and fast around him, the tightening of her walls bringing him to his own climax. he pulled out slowly, rolling to lay next to her as their chests heaved in unison.

“you know i do trust you, right?” he asked, finally willing to talk to her about the argument.

“i know. i just wish you’d show it, rather than getting angry when i speak to any man.”

“im sorry,” lando apologised, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss to her head, “im trying my best, m’trying not to let jealousy get the better of me.”

“thank you,” she offered him, “and ill try not to provoke you. even if it does result in the best sex of my life.”

he chuckled lightly, his breathing finally stable. but no quiet moment between the two would ever stay quiet for long.

“im glad you guys made up and that, but next time can you not be so loud?” max shouted through the door, making the couple blush as they realised they’d forgotten that he was home, “oh, and you’re cleaning those sheets.”

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 7: sukunas roommate

summary: sukuna brings you to his apartment so things don’t escalate with gojo and geto, there you meet his roommate.

* ooc, toji is shameless, crack, MDNI (a bit suggestive), NOT proof read 💔, lowkey i just am making the plot as i go sorry if it doesn’t make sense anymore i like adding random plot twists 💔

masterlist. prev. next

“um. if you don’t mind me asking… why is your roommates contact image frankie from shark tales?” you said between breathless giggles. you were too giggly to worry if the text you sent from sukunas phone sounded like sukuna or not. from the way he texted you, you assumed dry and cold. you hoped you pulled it off.

you were a giggling mess. this was so stupid. this huge, scary guy gave you his phone- willingly- to text his roommate you’d be coming over, and his profile picture is frankie from shark tales??? is sukuna secretly really funny?

your giggles seemed to be contagious, as sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle too. only chuckle, never actually laugh. you didn’t know why.

“he kinda looks like him. it’s a joke my friend uraume and i have.”

uraume? you’ve heard that name before. was it from the argument between shoko and geto? you think so.

that would make sense, actually.. you began to realize, your five brain cells working together to piece that shoko wasn’t the one to get sukuna to beat up gojo- but uraume.

you just giggled in response, looking down at the phone with curiosity by how much this man- toji, was blowing up his phone.

“should i-“ you were about to ask if you should respond to him, but sukuna was quick to shake his dead. “don’t.”

you nodded, biting your lip once more. you didn’t know how to respond to him, unsure if he was mad at you.

you took once glance at his stoic face, a flash of something mean in his eyes. for the millionth time this night, you curled into yourself, self conscious it was your doing to make him so mad.

sukuna is always sensing your discomfort. it made you feel bad for being so sensitive, and when he turned to give you a small, reassuring smile, your worry drowned away.

you were curious to what toji was saying, the phone was still buzzing with notifications from his number… was toji mad that sukuna was bringing you home on such short notice? or- oh no- what if he thought you two were hooking up?!

you must’ve been blushing furiously, because sukuna asked you if you were hot. you lied, telling him you were as an excuse, and without second thought he turned the ac on full blast.

you sat in silence for the rest of the ride, comfortable silence. you were fiddling with your phone, anxiously waiting for a text from gojo or geto, but it never came, much to your satisfaction.

when you arrived, sukuna stepped out of the car. “stay in here for a moment, i just have to call my roommate.” you nodded, noticing the way he locked his car after departing to call toji. did he seriously trust you to not steal his car right now? not that you were going to, but wow, he held a lot of faith in you!

sukuna groaned as he texted toji, a stressed hand running down his face. no way this douche just asked if she was single. he grumbled to himself as he hit toji’s contact and called him.

“yo,” toji spoke, his speech muffled around whatever food he was chewing.

“don’t be weird,” sukuna immediately said, voice cold. “i’m bringing her up now.”

before toji could retort, sukuna hung up. he didn’t want you to think he was taking too long.

moving to the passenger side door, sukuna unlocked his car and took your hand gently, “you okay?” he asked, voice gruff, as if he wasn’t sure how to sound friendly.

“mhm.” you nodded, “thank you for letting me stay tonight,” you smiled sheepishly, taking his hand with an appreciative smile and stepping out.

sukuna had to look away to hide his creeping blush.

“my roommates name is toji.” he began a conversation as he lead you up the complex’s multitude of stairs. “he’s fucking stupid, just ignore him.”

you just giggled in response, nervous yet oddly excited to meet this toji.

when you reached his door, sukuna opened the door for you. you didn’t expect him to be such a gentleman, considering his appearance. maybe it was wrong to judge a book by its cover.

“hey,” a surprisingly deeper voice called out, though it held more emotion than sukunas did.

“hi,” you waved shyly when you caught a glimpse of his roommate. you remember him from your psychology class. sukuna was right, he does kinda look like frankie from shark tales. you stifled a giggle.

toji immediately cracked a smirk at your shy behavior. it felt somewhat predatory… you didn’t know if you should be scared or turned on.

sukunas arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in the moment toji’s eyes wandered over your figure. he shot toji a warning glare, as if to silently say, she’s off limits.

but toji didn’t play fair, sukuna knew that.

“you brought home a pretty lil thing,” toji spoke mischievously, clearly trying to egg sukuna on. you blushed furiously at the comment, unsure if you should say thank you or stay silent.

“i told you toji, it’s not like that.” sukuna sighed, his grip around your waist tightening.

“looks like it,” toji whistled, glancing between your waist and his hand.

you shook your head, stammering slightly as you spoke, “no, no. he’s just… helping me out, tonight. i won’t be here again, i’m sorry.”

sukuna was about to scold you for apologizing, telling you there’s no need to and he invited you, but toji beat him to it.

“don’t apologize. i’d like to see you here again, under different circumstances.” he shot you a wink that had your knees weak.

you didn’t want to question what those ‘different circumstances’ were, but you were sure he was flirting.

sukuna growled, again. that same noise that had you both terrified and aroused.

“don’t say that shit,” he groaned, hitting toji’s shoulder. sukuna took your hand, practically yanking you along with him.

“like i said, ignore him.” he spoke, you could practically hear the way he gritted his teeth. he looked… jealous.

you just nodded, still bright red as you hummed along. “mhm.”

“do you need to take a shower?” sukuna asked, leading you to the bathroom. you smiled appreciatively, “that would be nice.”

though, walking into the men’s shared bathroom, you realized it would in fact not be nice. six in one? was this even legal? this couldn’t be fda approved.

you desperately wished you had your strawberry tree hut body scrub, your precious shampoo and conditioner, and at least a bar of soap! you’d also like some exfoliator and moisturizer, but they weren’t needs.

you have sukuna a ‘really?’ look, and, for the first time that night, he actually laughed.

“okay, order whatever you need.” he said, tossing you his phone as if it belonged to you.

“huh?” you blinked, eyes wide as you stared at him incredulously.

“my cards linked, just get what you need.” he spoke casually, as if this was normal.

you were about to reject his offer, tell him you could pay, but toji (of course) came in to ruin the moment.

“oh doll? you still showering? can i join?” he spoke, his voice low and flirtatious as he didn’t wait for a response, simply waltzing in. you didn’t know what made you blush more, the nickname or his obvious intentions of wanting to fuck.

sukuna looked like he was going to kill a man. that man being toji.

“ohhh i see, you’re already showering with sukuna. i’m sure you can make room for three.”

you choked on a laugh. even if you were interested (which, maybe you were. a little). the thought of both of these men in the same dinky shower together was hilarious. no way would there be room with even just the two of them, nevermind you.

“what’s so funny, dollface?”

“toji.”

sukunas voice had an edge to it you only heard once. when you told him about gojo and getos plans to intercept them in the car.

toji looked a bit taken aback, a scowl on his face now, mirroring sukunas.

“you’re no fun.” toji said after sizing his roommate up, leaving the bathroom, not without slamming the door. how petty.

you bit your lower lip, glancing between sukuna and the door that was just slammed in their faces.

“sorry about him.” sukuna spoke up, sighing. “buy whatever you want. don’t worry about how much it is.”

you frowned, “i’m going to send you the money back either way. besides, i use a lot of products, so it’ll hurt your wallet if i didn’t pay you back.” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood after whatever the fuck just happened.

“i’d rather it hurt my wallet than yours. just get whatever you usually use, i don’t care.”

and with that, sukuna left the bathroom. now you were all alone in two strangers apartment, stuck in the bathroom with one of their phones.

you didn’t know how someone could be so nice yet so cold at the same time. it was like he was a walking contradiction. was he upset with toji?

you could tell him you didn’t care, because truthfully you didn’t. yea, it definitely flustered you a bit (a lot), but it’s not like it made you feel unsafe.

you looked for your typical items, soap, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. sure, you’d love to have a body scrub, exfoliator, and moisturizer too, but you didn’t want to kill this poor guys wallet.

you opted for cheaper options, though still finding things with your signature strawberry scent.

you felt a bit guilty as you checked out for delivery. you should probably pay back sukuna some how- for giving you a ride, a place to stay for the night, and free shower products.

when you exited the bathroom to return sukunas phone, he was nowhere to be seen. neither was roommate, toji.

this was even more awkward than hiding in their bathroom, you thought.

was it rude to sit on their couch uninvited? you wondered, plopping yourself down regardless. you noticed netflix was still open, whoever was watching was halfway through the first season of squid games.

you fiddled with sukunas phone, impatiently waiting for either of the two boys to come back so you didn’t feel so awkward. though a notification from your phone made you jump, quickly settling down sukunas phone to check yours.

guys this photo is genuinely the funniest thing i’ve ever seen i love it so much

tag list

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[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

genuinely tweaking over your OlderBF! Bruce headcannons omg. do you have any more Older BF! Bruce thoughts to spare? (I adore you and your writing <3)

I alwaysss have more Bruce thoughts to spare. I think this man takes over my mind more than my boyfriend does (not complaining :) )

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne (Part 2)

Sensitive content: Brief mention of kidnapping and stalking

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is so utterly devoted to you. This man is at your side and obeying your every will as often as he can. You saw a pretty dress you wanted in a shop window? It's laying on the foot of your shared bed when you come home. You need attention after an argument? He's cancelling his work meetings, if he can, to spend a bit of time with you.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who underestimates just how loud and angry he can get. There is never a moment where he isn't stressed, even when he's with you. And, as much as he tries to hold back, he loses his temper so easily with you.

"Im just saying, Im concerned, alright-?" You start, arms crossed over your chest as you take a seat on the edge of your lavish shared bed.

"What, that Im cheating?" He snaps back almost immediately, head whipping around to face you as he stops pacing. In all honesty, he regrets it as soon as he sees the look in your eyes, but he's far to stubborn to ever admit that.

"Bruce, you know that's not what I mean." You respond softly, choosing not to further escalate the situation by simply laying back on the bed and picking up your book from the nightstand. "You come home every night covered in bruises and disappear out of nowhere, so forgive your girlfriend for worrying about you."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who would rather you think that he's cheating on you than spilling his guts about being Batman. It absolutely kills him inside every single time you get misty eyed askinf if he's cheating, but he knows better than to risk your safety with the burden of knowledge.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, god forbid, if you were ever to get kidnapped due to his line of work would push you away for good. All of your stuff would be packed away before you could even calm down for the situation. He wouldn't give you a proper goodbye, either. It would be too risky for him to ever be near you again.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who would absolutely develop a nasty habit of stalking you after a separation like that. He tells himself that it's to ensure your safety when he watches you walked into your favorite coffee shop every morning, but he's having a hard time convincing himself.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who knows just how unloveable he makes himself. Every woman he has ever been with has either been put in danger because of him or left. He doesn't think he could go through something like that with you, so he instinctively pushes you away like he always has with everybody else.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, despite what he told himself about keeping his distance, finds himself knocking on your apartment door late at night. In his hands are a bottle of wine, your favorite flowers, and gold sheet-covered chocolates.

"Im sorry." His eyes are filled with utter guilt as he glances at your exhausted features. Bruce didnt even give you a chance to process that it was him at the door before he started throwing out apologies.

And the most you can really do for a moment is just look at him, your eyes not entirely focused as you stare out into space a little. "Thought you told me to stay away." You mutter softly, trying to blink the physical and mental exhaustion away.

"I..." How could he even deny that? He did, in fact, tell you to stay as far away as possible for your own safety. "I know." He continues after a moment or two. "But I'm selfish... I can't stay away. I... I want to explain a few things to you, if you'd consider letting me in.

Of course, you caved.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who can't bring himself to look you in the eyes as he explains himself and his nightly activities as Batman. He feels so guilty about ever putting you in danger in the first place, but he can't bring himself to stay away like he eventually learned to with Selina.

"I was scared." His quiet, honest response when you ask why he never chose to tell you about his double life. You want to be mad, you really do, but his fingers in your hair as he holds you against his chest after a few glasses of wine was just too good to resist.

"And you think I wasn't?" You ask softly, craning your neck to look up at him a lottle better. "I could handle the thought of you with other girls, Bruce..." You whisper, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. "But you have no idea how worried sick I was seeing those bruises every night. You have absolutely no idea how worried I was that they had gotten to you, too, when they took me."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who lets himself get a little tipsy that night with you, which is rare because he always finds excuses not to drink to stay in peak physical condition for his duties. Neither of you drank enough to be intoxicated, but just enough for everything to feel warm and fuzzy. And enough for you to forgive him.

"So sorry, gorgeous..." He mutters between slow, lingering kisses. Despite seeming so brooding and tough, his lips are absolutely divine and you missed them more than you'd ever admit.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who ends up getting a little frisky when he's drinking. His hands are almost everywhere, no matter where you are. You were honestly thanking god that it was just the two of you relaxing in your apartment. Hell, he practically had you seeing god with how well he fucked.

"I love you so much..." His eyes are closed as his hips slowly slot into yours yet again, face buried into your shoulder. Normally, you'd be begging for a bit of a quicker and brutal pace, but everything was just too sweet to want anything else. The prolonged sliding of his cock into your weeping hole allowed for you to feel absolutely everything, including his utter adoration and love for you.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who tries to keep you away from the paparazzi as much as possible after the kidnapping. Sure, he hated the prying eyes of tabloids trying to disect your relationship before, but he was just so much more paranoid and anxious afterwards. He barely lets you out of Wayne Manor without him or somebody else in the family.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who still struggles to communicate with you, even after he's told the truth about his vigilantism. He often finds himseld lying to you without even noticing it, even about the little things like how many thugs he took down on last night's patrol. But he tries to work on it, he really does. He's started writing things down on scrap pieces of paper or notebokks that he found himself being dishonest about.

Masterlist

[arieslost]

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

[miumura]

DANGEROUS ──── TAESAN ⋆.

"JUST MAKING MEMORIES" is something Taesan sent to you over text before he bolted out of the door. He knew he might get into trouble for sneaking out, but none of that mattered—he needed to see you. Trouble could wait; reuniting with you couldn’t.

PAIRING best friend!taesan x gn!reader GENRE fluff ∿ accidental confession ∿ WARNINGS inspired from “Dangerous” by BOYNEXTDOOR ,, one curse word ,, that is all i believe !! WORD COUNT 1.7K+ ( 1745 )

NEW MESSAGE taesan’s part has been stuck in my head so i had to write him to this ^^ i def have this song and mv on loop - it’s such a fun one !! so you can bet i ran to write this ASAP 🫡 shows that i am soso excited for their comeback :] !!

♫ ──── I never cross the line, trust me 𓂃 ⭑

Taesan had to be extra quiet tonight—he couldn’t afford to get caught by his parents, especially at this hour. But, he prided himself on being skilled at sneaking out, having done it countless times before. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and tonight, he was determined it wouldn’t be the night he finally slipped up.

Moving swiftly but cautiously across the creaky wooden floor, he kept his gaze fixed between his parents' room and the exit. His heart raced when he found himself in front of their door, which he slightly cracked open to confirm they were asleep. Sure enough, the car keys rested right where he expected—on the nightstand beside his father.

Taesan hesitated for a split second before slipping in, his steps light as air. He reached for the keys, careful not to disturb the silent house or the sleeping figure. With a smooth motion, he grasped the keys without causing a single jingle. Without wasting a second, he darted back towards the entrance, his light footsteps barely audible, a small grin tugging at his lips.

So far, everything was going according to plan.

Maybe telling Taesan you were finally back from your two-week trip at 2 A.M. wasn’t the brightest idea. If you had known he’d spam you with texts filled with excitement and then decide to show up at your place right in the middle of your unpacking, you might’ve held off on sharing the news. But truth be told, you were just as eager to talk to him. After spending weeks messaging back and forth, you couldn’t resist letting him know you were home—especially with him counting down the days until your return like a personal calendar.

Even when you tried to convince him to wait just a few more hours to meet, Taesan was already set on seeing you right then and there. There was no talking him out of it.

He just couldn’t wait to see you again.

“Hey, I’m here!!!!” Your phone buzzed with a notification as you were halfway through putting away your clothes, causing you to chuckle.

You debated ignoring Taesan for a bit longer to tease him, but when his texts quickly escalated to threats of ringing your doorbell—fully aware that your parents were likely fast asleep—you had no choice but to give in.

Dropping the shirt in your hand, you rushed down the stairs, determined to stop him. When you opened the door, you were greeted by Taesan’s slight smirk, which soon blossomed into a wide grin. Before you could even say anything, he swept you into a tight hug, holding you close as you instantly melted into his embrace.

You hadn’t realized just how much you missed his hugs until now.

Finally breaking from his embrace, you took a moment to study the familiar features you had only seen through FaceTime. It hit you that this moment was real—you were finally back, standing in front of Taesan again. Your eyes soon trailed down to his outfit, and you couldn’t help but let out a series of small chuckles.

“Did you roll out of bed when I texted you?” you teased, pointing at his pants, which were covered in random, colorful designs.

He followed your gaze and stared at his pants—decorated with bizarre patterns you couldn’t even describe. Taesan let out a laugh, though his slightly flushed cheeks and the way he scratched the back of his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

“Hey, to be fair, you texted me at two in the morning.”

“You could’ve worn jeans or something,” you quipped.

“At least I put on a hoodie—besides, you're in pajamas too!” he pointed out, causing you to giggle as he finally noticed.

“Not as weird as yours,” you shrugged. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you—you should go back now.”

You gave him a slight push toward the direction of his house, but Taesan didn't budge, instead staying put with an odd grin that sent a chill down your spine.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling out car keys from his pocket and jingling them in front of you. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you glanced over his shoulder, spotting something you should’ve noticed earlier—his parents' car, parked right there. You whipped your head back to Taesan, who let out a laugh at your reaction.

“So, you’re telling me, not only did you sneak out, but you took their car too?!” you exclaimed.

“Technically, it’s supposed to be my car too, so… why can’t I?” he shrugged, still grinning like he hadn't just committed a minor crime (dramatic much?).

“You’re going to get into trouble, Taesan,” you warned, though you couldn’t help but smile at his boldness. This was classic Taesan—reckless, spontaneous, and a little too daring for his own good.

“Not if we don’t get caught,” he smirked.

“What do you mean we—” Before you could finish your sentence, Taesan grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the car. Without much choice, you found yourself sliding into the passenger seat, watching him confidently start up the engine. You shot him a side-eye as the car turned on loudly.

“You’re not going to drag me into your mess if you get into trouble… are you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“That won’t happen, don’t worry,” he said with a grin, glancing over at you. His casual reassurance didn’t ease your nerves, but something about his energy made you believe him. Even though this seemed reckless and dangerous, there was something thrilling about it, something that made you forget to be cautious.

“Even if it does happen… this better be worth it,” you muttered, glancing at him as he pulled away from your house.

“Making demands now?” Taesan snickered, his hand reaching for the volume knob as he slowly turned up the music you both liked. You hummed along with the familiar melody as he drove, and soon you began to recognize where you were headed.

When you finally arrived at the familiar, secluded spot, a smile crept onto your face. It was the hangout place—the place. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, just an old rooftop in an abandoned part of town, but it held so many memories for you both. Hours spent talking under the stars, laughing about nothing, escaping reality together—it was your safe haven.

“I missed this place,” you quietly exclaimed, staring out of the window as nostalgia washed over you.

“I’m glad you do,” Taesan replied, pulling the car into a spot nearby and shutting off the engine. He turned to you with a soft smile. “It was boring without you here.”

“I would’ve expected so,” you teased with a grin, pushing the car door open and stepping outside. Taesan shook his head at your comment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You both started walking along the rocky path, the crunching sound beneath your feet breaking the quiet, but in a way that felt calming. As you neared the old, cracked steps leading to the rooftop, Taesan reached for your hand, his familiar words slipping out as if by instinct, “Watch your steps.”

He always said it every time, a small gesture of care that never failed to warm you inside. You gave his hand a small squeeze in response, feeling a comfort that only Taesan could bring—a comfort that had remained constant even after weeks of distance.

It didn’t take long for you two to reach the rooftop, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief when you saw that the mat you’d left last time was still there. With a soft sigh, you sat down, sinking into the familiar comfort of the spot. Taesan followed suit, settling down beside you.

You both gazed up at the night sky. Though it wasn’t lit up with as many stars as usual, the cool, crisp breeze seemed to make up for it.

You two chatted for what seemed like for decades, with the amount of endless topics you two managed to bring up. As much as you wished for this moment to last forever, your mind somehow went back to the thought of what time it could be.

“It’s probably so late right now,” you mumbled, still not bothering to check your phone for the time. “You really shouldn’t have stayed up.”

“Why not?”

“I told you I’d be back late,” you replied, turning to glance at him. “You shouldn’t have waited.”

“I still wanted to see you,” Taesan said without hesitation.

“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now, more curious than anything.

“Because I like you.”

His words hung in the air for a few seconds, both of you processing what he had just said. Taesan’s eyes widened slightly as if the confession had slipped out by accident, and the shock that hit both of you was almost palpable. Neither of you spoke at first, the cool breeze suddenly feeling much more intense as you stared at him in surprise.

Neither of you could find the words to say next. Taesan turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to the ground as if it could offer him an escape from the awkwardness that had suddenly settled between you. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, a nervous habit you’d seen before, though it had never felt so intense.

You stared at him, trying to make sense of what just happened. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and yet, your body felt warmer. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words were lodged in your throat, stuck between surprise and the realization that this wasn’t just a passing comment.

His confession was still hanging in the air, echoing in the silence between you two.

Taesan shifted uncomfortably, his gaze still fixed on the ground. He finally took a deep breath, but even then, his words faltered. “Uh, I didn’t—” he started, then stopped, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions that had washed over you.

"You know... Taesan, I feel—" you began, but your words were suddenly interrupted by a loud buzzing from Taesan's pocket. He immediately reached for his phone, and both of you glanced down at the screen. The name "Dad" lit up brightly, sending a jolt of panic through the air.

Both your eyes widened in unison as reality hit. Taesan's face that was once filled with anticipation became paled, and you could feel the tension shift.

There was a brief, terrifying silence before he muttered,

"Oh fuck."

💬 : prepare for more bnd works ( hopefully ) i love them sm

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[bettelaboure]

⊹Say it again⊹ | Kwon Ji-yong

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ Pairing: Kwon Ji-yong x Reader ⊹ Warnings: explicit sexual content, adult language, dominant/submissive dynamics, consensual roughness, dirty talk ⊹ Summary: After an evening of deliberate teasing at their friend's casual gathering, the tension between you and Ji-yong escalates into an intense confrontation at home. Ji-yong makes it clear he intends to respond to your provocative comments in the most passionate way possible.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The invitation to Seunghyun's had come earlier that evening, just after dinner. Ji-yong had mentioned it casually as he cleaned up, tossing dishes into the sink. "Seunghyun's hosting tonight. He mentioned drinks, some music, just something chill. Feel like going?"

You'd watched him closely, biting back a smile. "Sounds good. It'll be nice to relax." But as you moved around him, picking up a glass from the counter, you deliberately brushed against him, feeling his body tense slightly.

Ji-yong’s eyes had flashed, meeting yours in silent challenge. You'd been doing it all evening, subtle touches, lingering gazes, bending a bit too low when you knew he was watching—each movement designed to tease and entice, to wind him up until you could practically feel his frustration simmering beneath his skin.

Before leaving, you'd chosen an outfit with careful intent—a tight-fitting dress that hugged every curve, elegant but simple yet provocatively short. Ji-yong had leaned against the bedroom doorway, eyes narrowed with quiet appreciation and a hint of possessiveness. "Planning on tormenting me all night?"

You'd laughed softly, adjusting the hem teasingly. "Maybe. Think you can handle it?"

He’d stepped forward, grabbing your waist, pressing his hips suggestively against yours. His voice dropped low, dangerously calm. "Careful. You're playing with fire."

You smiled, pushing gently away, maintaining your teasing distance. "Maybe I like getting burned."

Now, Seunghyun’s apartment is warm with laughter and low music, the hum of casual conversation weaving through the open-plan living room like a silk thread. You’re curled into the oversized couch, a wine glass balanced in your hand, your heels already kicked off hours ago. Ji-yong’s somewhere behind you, deep in a conversation with Youngbae about music licensing—half business, half the kind of creative banter that only comes after midnight.

Across from you, Hyo-rin is cross-legged, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she sips from a half-empty glass of red. The conversation has taken a sharp turn from outfit choices and PR nightmares to what you’re both actually interested in right now—books. More specifically, that book.

“You got to chapter seventeen, right?” she leans in, voice just a little hushed, not wanting to be overheard but clearly hoping to stir a reaction.

You nod, grin matching hers. “The scene in the study.”

She lets out a low whistle. “God. The way he just—” she gestures vaguely, “—pins her against the desk and tells her to shut up before she even finishes her argument? The control—”

“The way he doesn’t even raise his voice, just slides his hand around her throat and says, You wanted a reaction? Here it is,” you quote, warmth spreading across your skin just remembering the line. “I swear I nearly—”

“Same,” Hyo-rin laughs, fanning herself. “My man was asleep next to me. I had to bury my face in the pillow.”

You tip your glass toward her and say with a crooked smirk, “Honestly? That scene had me like, ‘Bend me over, slap my ass, and fuck the feminist right out of me.’”

Hyo-rin bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re insane.”

You just shrug, laughing with her—but you feel it instantly. That pull. Like a thread from across the room yanking at your spine.

You glance back and, sure enough, Ji-yong is watching you. Not openly, not dramatically—but his eyes are locked on you like a sniper scope. Still mid-conversation, nodding along with Seunghyun, but that look is different. Fixed. Quietly dangerous.

You turn back, sip your wine, pretend like your skin isn’t prickling everywhere under his gaze.

The rest of the night blurs in soft laughter, gentle goodbyes, and the comfort of familiarity. The car ride home is quiet, but the air between you isn’t. It’s dense. Charged. Ji-yong drives with one hand, the other draped lazily over his thigh, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the music—but you can see how tight his jaw is. How focused.

When the door clicks shut behind you, you’re halfway through tugging off your jacket when he’s suddenly there—pressing you against the wall beside it, his body a slow, deliberate weight pinning yours. Not rough, not rushed. Just there, his breath warm against your ear.

“So…” His voice is low, almost amused, but there’s a tension underneath. A flicker of something darker. “You want me to bend you over, slap your ass, and fuck the feminism out of you?”

You inhale sharply, head knocking lightly against the door behind you. He smiles against your cheek, but it’s not sweet—it’s all teeth.

“Didn’t think I’d hear my girl say that. Not in front of Seunghyun. Not in front of everyone.”

You grin, pushing your hips just barely into his. “You weren’t exactly rushing to shut me up.”

“Didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, hand trailing up your side, under your shirt. “I like hearing what turns you on when you think I’m not paying attention.”

“You always pay attention.”

“Damn right I do.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s heat there—so much it burns, but it’s steady. Focused. “Say it again.”

You blink. “What?”

You blink. “What?”

His fingers tighten on your waist. “What you said to Hyo-rin.”

You feel your stomach flip, a wicked smile crawling across your lips. You lean in, lips barely brushing his. “Bend me over, slap my ass, and fuck the feminist right out of me.”

The moment you finish speaking, his mouth captures yours, deep and demanding. His tongue slides teasingly against yours, making your knees buckle slightly. He catches you easily, his hand tangled in your hair as the kiss deepens, hot and possessive. His other hand grips your hip tightly, guiding you toward the living room, clothes discarded along the way until there's nothing left but skin against skin.

When he bends you over the edge of the couch, your breath catches sharply, anticipation tightening every nerve. Ji-yong’s hand smooths over your spine, lingering gently at the curve of your waist before coming down in a sharp, playful slap that sends heat flaring across your skin.

He leans over you, his voice rough and teasing in your ear. “Is this what you were imagining? Me, pinning you down, taking control, fucking the shit out of you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, pressing back urgently, desperate for more contact. “Exactly like this.”

He chuckles darkly, fingers sliding lower, teasing and drawing out your pleasure until you're whimpering softly, needy and ready. His lips trail heated kisses along your shoulder, down your spine, and back up again.

“Beg for it,” he whispers huskily, teeth grazing your skin. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Please, Ji-yong,” you breathe desperately. “Fuck me—hard.”

He groans deeply, a raw, primal sound of approval, finally sinking into you with a slow, powerful thrust, filling you completely. Your body arches instinctively against him, welcoming the depth, savoring the exquisite stretch of his entrance. He pauses momentarily, savoring the sensation, his breathing ragged and hot against your shoulder.

His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you to match his rhythm as he begins moving again, slowly at first, each stroke deliberate, teasing. "You feel so fucking good," he whispers hoarsely, voice laced with desire, fingers digging into your skin possessively. He picks up speed, thrusting harder and deeper, each stroke driving you forward, making you gasp and moan beneath him.

You push back eagerly, craving more, matching his every movement with desperate need. His hips slam into yours relentlessly, the sound of skin against skin filling the air, mingling with your shared, breathless moans. Ji-yong leans forward, lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring heatedly against your skin, "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cry out, gripping the couch tightly, overwhelmed by the building pleasure. His rhythm grows faster, fiercer, driving you both toward the edge, each deep, forceful thrust pushing you higher, closer to release. "Ji-yong," you plead breathlessly, "don't stop—"

"Never," he growls, hand slipping between your thighs to tease your sensitive flesh, igniting every nerve until you're trembling, falling apart in his arms. Your climax rushes over you, intense and shattering, pulling him over the edge moments later with a deep, satisfied groan, your name tumbling from his lips.

Afterward, spent and tangled together in the aftermath, his fingers trace gentle circles along your skin, lips brushing affectionately along your shoulder.

“You always know how to get under my skin,” he murmurs lazily.

You turn, smiling softly up at him. “Maybe that's exactly why I do it.”

He chuckles quietly, pulling you tighter into his embrace. “Good. Don’t stop.”

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @babygirlewis @mashtatosworld @blade-in-red

[misspygmypie]

You're Not My Real Dad

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah Words: 1501 Request: Omg I absolutely love the meet and greet series. 😍 I was wondering if I could request something where Lando and Noah get into a fight. Like Lando told him to clean up his toys and Noah dose the whole 'your not my dad' line. But happy and sweet ending of course. 😌 Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando had barely stepped inside his apartment when he felt the weight of a long race weekend lift off his shoulders. But as he walked through the modern space, lined with sleek furniture and bathed in the soft glow of evening light filtering through the large windows, his attention was drawn to a new challenge awaiting him. His seven-year-old son, Noah, had been struggling a bit with his recent move to Monaco and today was no different.

The apartment was a mix of the unfamiliar and the exciting - a space with stunning views of the Mediterranean Sea. Yet, for little Noah, it was all a bit overwhelming. The transition had been difficult and the chaos of his new room showed his unease.

After a quick shower Lando headed towards Noah’s room, his footsteps soft on the polished floors. He knocked lightly on the door before opening it. Noah was deeply engrossed in constructing a Lego spaceship on the floor, surrounded by an ocean of toys, books and scattered art supplies. The room looked like a miniature storm had hit it.

“Hey, buddy,” Lando said gently as he stepped into the room. “I see you’re building something amazing there.”

Noah looked up briefly, his concentration breaking. “Uh-huh.”

Lando smiled, sitting down beside him. “I’m glad you’re having fun but it’s time we clean up a bit. The room’s a bit messy and we need to get it sorted.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed and he pushed a Lego piece aside with a sigh. “I don’t want to.”

Lando’s heart ached at the reluctance in Noah’s voice. He understood how the move had been hard on him - new city, new school, new environment and now it seemed like even the small tasks were a burden.

“Noah,” Lando said softly, his voice concerned, “I know it’s been a bit tough lately. Moving to a new place can be really hard but we need to take care of our space so it feels more like home. Come on, let’s clean up a bit.” He reached for a stray Lego piece on the floor but Noah’s small hand shot out to grab it back.

“No!” Noah screamed. “I don’t want to! I hate it here!” He pushed the Lego piece away and kicked at a pile of books, sending them tumbling across the floor.

Lando’s patience began to fray but he tried to meet Noah’s gaze. “I understand that you’re upset. It’s a big change and it’s not easy but this mess isn’t going to help.”

Noah’s face flushed red, his anger escalating. “You don’t get it! You’re not my real dad! You don’t know how I feel!” He grabbed a handful of toys and threw them across the room, the clatter echoing off the walls.

Lando’s smile faltered. When he heard those words - “You’re not my real dad!” - his heart sank. It felt as though someone had physically twisted a knife in his chest. The sting of Noah’s outburst cut deeper than any racing setback he’d ever faced. The room, once just a mess of toys and books, suddenly felt like a battleground of emotions. 

“I may not be your real dad but I care about you a lot. I’m trying to make things better here. It’s not just about cleaning up, it’s about making this place feel like home.”

“No!” Noah shouted. “I don’t want this! I don’t want you telling me what to do!”

Lando’s face hardened as he stood up, his hands on his hips. “Well, what do you want, Noah? Just to sit here and wallow in the mess? That’s not going to fix anything. I’m trying to make things better for you!”

Noah shook his head, his anger now giving way to raw emotion. “I want my old room, my old friends. I want things to be normal!”

Lando’s shoulders sagged as he realized that shouting wasn’t going to help either of them. His anger dissolved into frustration and sadness. He took a deep breath and walked over to Noah, kneeling down to be at his level. “I know you miss your old life but we have to face this new reality together. If we keep fighting like this, it’s only going to make things harder.”

Noah looked away, his small body trembling. “This place is too big and too different.”

Lando’s mind raced, reflecting on the countless ways he had tried to make the transition easier; setting up Noah’s room, spending extra time with him whenever he could and making sure he felt welcomed in their new surroundings. Yet, despite these efforts, the move had taken a toll. Hearing Noah made Lando question if he had done enough or if he had somehow failed.

In his personal life there were no pit crews or advisors to help Lando navigate these emotional terrains, just him, his love for Noah and the desire to be the best father he could be.

Despite the hurt Lando knew he had to remain calm and supportive. He took a deep breath, pushing aside his own wounded feelings to focus on Noah’s needs. It was clear that Noah was feeling lost and was reaching out in the only way he knew how.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Lando said quietly, his voice steady. “I know things are different for you and it’s not easy but I care about you and I’m here for you, even if it doesn’t always seem that way. Being your dad means helping you through tough times and sometimes that means cleaning up a messy room together.”

Noah’s eyes welled up and he looked down at the scattered toys, overwhelmed. “I don’t want to clean up. It’s too much.”

Tears began to roll down Noah’s cheeks and he buried his face in his hands. The sight of his son, usually so full of energy and laughter, now so vulnerable and upset, struck Lando deeply. He knew this move had been incredibly tough for Noah, tougher than him and Y/N had expected, and the weight of the transition was clearly taking its toll.

Lando gently pulled him close. “It’s okay to be sad,” he said softly. “I understand. Moving is hard and it’s a lot to handle but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here to help and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together.”

Noah’s bawling became more intense and his little body shook with the force of his crying. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean it. I know you’re my dad. I just… I just don’t know how to feel.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Lando whispered. “You’re allowed to feel however you need to. It’s okay to let your feelings out. I’m here with you and we’ll get through this. It might be tough now but we’ll find our way.”

Noah’s sobs gradually subsided and he looked up at Lando with tear-streaked cheeks. “I really miss my old room,” he said softly.

“I know you do,” Lando said gently, brushing a tear from Noah’s face. “And it’s okay to miss it. We can make this new place special too. Let’s work on it together, one step at a time.”

Noah nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay. Can we make it fun?”

“Absolutely,” Lando said, his heart lifting at the sight of Noah’s willingness to try. “Let’s turn cleaning up into a game. We’ll see who can find the most missing pieces and put them away. And afterwards we’ll have a movie night with popcorn and whatever else you want, just the two of us.”

Noah’s face brightened slightly and he gave a small, grateful smile. “Popcorn sounds good.”

“Popcorn it is,” Lando said, smiling back. “Let’s go.”

They began tidying up and Lando made a game out of it, pretending that each toy was a hidden treasure to be found and organized. He exaggerated his excitement over each discovery, making Noah giggle despite himself. The room quickly started to look more organized and Noah’s mood lifted with each passing minute. Noah’s laughter returned as he found a new rhythm in the task and Lando felt nothing but relieved.

When they finally finished the room was clean and tidy. Noah looked around. “We did it, dad.”

“We sure did,” Lando said, giving him a high-five. “Now, let’s pick out that movie.”

They made their way to the living room where Lando let Noah choose from a selection of Disney movies. Noah’s choice was Cars - an obvious choice - and they settled in with popcorn and cozy blankets.

When the opening credits rolled Noah snuggled up against Lando, a sigh escaping his lips. The earlier tension had eased and the comfort of being with his dad made the new apartment feel a little more like home. Lando looked down at the boy in his arms. The transition to Monaco was still a work in progress but moments like these made it clear that, together, they could make it work.

________

AN: Anon, I hope you like it and it's what you had in mind 🥹🫶

I'm starting a new taglist for any stories Lando x Noah related, let me know if you want to be on it!

Also, keep them requests comingggg, I have next week off and need something to do 🤭

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 14

Source for pic

Trouble 14

Word Count: 6045

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: Okay, now we really are reaching the end of the story. There's the Epilogue after this and we'll be done with Zoro! I'm missing this story already, it was so different from the others and I had so much fun with it! Well, as I said in my post earlier today, I wasn't expecting this chapter to take such an angsty turn, I was going to skim the details of the healing to get straight into the fluff. But they decided they wanted something different, and I complied. I'm glad I did because I like the bit of angst in this chapter, tell me what you think about it too, will you?

Masterlist

You both get a good scolding from the team of nurses as you wake up because you need rest in order to recover from your wounds. Zoro tries to argue that it was the best rest he’s gotten in the past few years, and though some nurses find the declaration cute, the head nurse tells him to stop acting like a child and behave.

So, you leave to return to your room for the doctors and nurses to check on Zoro’s condition, promising to return as soon as possible. 

You’re still finishing up breakfast, sitting in your bed when you hear a light knock at your door. “Come in.”

“Bug?” 

As soon as you see the look of worry Shanks gives you, you feel like a little girl again and start sobbing, the weight of everything too overwhelming to bear alone. 

“Oh, honey…” Shanks drops his coat on the floor and runs to you, holding you close in a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” He keeps kissing the crown of your head, his arm pulling you closer and closer as if by that gesture he can erase all the pain you’ve been through.

“I–It’s okay, Dad…” You hide your head against the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of safety and love, and sob some more. “It’s not your fault.”

Shanks sits on your bed, never letting go of you, and when he speaks, his voice sounds hoarse and ragged, like he’s trying to hold back his own tears. “I should never have left you alone.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“What if–... What if Zoro hadn’t–... What–...” Shanks groans, shaking his head and gritting his teeth, squeezing you tighter against him and not finishing his line of thought, as if merely thinking about what could have happened is unbearable. “I’m never leaving you again, Bug.”

You let out a bubbly laugh mixed with a dry sob. “We both know that’s unreasonable, Dad.”

“It’s not.” He kisses your head again. “I’ll strap you to my waist with a rope or something. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Dad!”

“I mean it, though. Don’t worry, it will be a rope long enough to give you some privacy.”

“Geez, Red, stop being so dramatic.”

Mihawk enters the room after a slight knock on the door to announce his presence, but Shanks is already scowling and still refuses to let go of you. 

“I’m not being dramatic, Hawkeyes, I’m just comforting my child and showing her love. Something I doubt you’re capable of doing.” Mihawk smirks back at your father, and you wiggle free of his embrace, still holding his hand. 

“Actually, Dad, Captain Mihawk was quite understanding with me last night.” You chuckle slightly, drying your tears with the back of your hand. 

“Well, I’ll be damned…” Shanks begins with a grin, and Mihawk sighs, rolling his eyes and promptly changing the subject. 

“I was just on my way to see Roronoa, but I wanted you both to know that your property looks like a media circus now.” He straightened up, his nose scrunching at the mention of reporters. “I tried to keep things wrapped up as tightly as possible, but the news still leaked, so we had to make a statement. And though we’re trying to provide all the information about King and his responsibility in the maiming of the two victims, the reporters still want a story about the girl he did all of this for…”

Shanks tightens his grip on your hand, and you hold a breath. Obviously, the nightmare couldn’t be over. Was it too much to ask?

“We forced them to remain outside private property, but you know how tenacious reporters can be… maybe you can stay with a friend until the novelty dies down?” He looks at you, and you nod softly. 

Your friends! If they heard the news, they must be worried sick!

“My friends, are they…”

Mihawk sighs again, this time in exasperation. “They’re all camped outside the hospital, demanding to see you and Zoro. I managed to talk to Miss Nico and Miss Nefertari, the sensible ones in that crew, and promised they would be allowed in as soon as you were cleared to receive visitors.”

You shed a small smile, your brows wrinkling with gratitude mixed with worry. Of course they’re camping outside. You push the guilt from not telling them anything far down to the abyss of unwanted things to think about, and force the smile to keep pressing your lips.

“We’ll be fine.” You say to your father. Shanks nods, the wrinkles near his eyes much more prominent than when he left, and then he fixes your hair in a loving gesture. 

“We will.”

Mihawk nods and turns to leave, then he calls your name and turns back to you. “One more thing, if you’re up to it, I can take your statement here instead of you coming to the police station to do it. Less hassle, no reporters…”

You nod with a small thank you and he leaves you to your father’s fussing once more.

-*-

“You look like crap.”

“Thanks, Cap. That’s exactly the pep talk I needed after getting stabbed and almost dying.” Zoro grunts and raises his arm to cover his eye. He feels like shit. Every muscle feels raw, every wound stings and hurts, every bruise taunts him and strains his movements. 

But he feels fucking good too.

Because you’re alive, and King is not. Motherfucker.

Zoro clenches his fist and grits his teeth. He still feels so much rage over what the fucker did to you. He keeps thinking about all the things he could’ve done differently, of all the pain and hurt that could’ve been avoided if he’d just figured out sooner what was happening to you.

He keeps revisiting your conversations, everything he could have done differently to avoid this outcome because yes, you’re alive, but you’re not unscathed. You went through hell, and King almost took you away from Zoro. He still touched you and did unspeakable things to you. Zoro can’t help but blame himself for most of it. If only he’d been faster, stronger, smarter…

“Don’t think too much, Roronoa, you might strain a muscle.” Mihawk’s remark is teasing, and Zoro snorts in response, but doesn’t answer back. A confirmation that he is, indeed, thinking too much about things he cannot and will never be able to change.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Mihawk continues, as if he’s a mind-reader, when in reality he knows Zoro like he knows his prized sword. “None of it. So stop blaming yourself and stop thinking you could’ve done something differently. It doesn’t matter now. The bastard’s dead. You got the girl. You’re alive.”

“But…” Zoro starts, then stops, his teeth clattering together as he forces back the anger and the shame, the guilt and the rage. The words are stuck in his throat, drying it up and sucking all the air from his lungs. He never wanted to be a disappointment… but he needs to acknowledge it. Even if only to himself.

“I... I got a scar on my back. From a fucking blade.” His arm is still draped over his eye, and though Zoro doesn’t cry, the words sting and burn. Even more so because of how much he admires the person he’s saying them to.

Mihawk remains silent. 

For too damn long.

“Fuck. Just admit that I’m a fucking disappointment and–”

“I’m proud of you, son,” Mihawk states. Zoro removes his forearm from the front of his eye as it bores into Mihawk’s golden gaze. He doesn’t seem to be joking, hell, he doesn’t seem disappointed at all. 

“You gave your all to save a young woman’s life. You protected her with all you had and were willing to lie down your life in order to achieve it.” He sighs. “As far as I’m concerned, that scar on your back brings you pride, not shame. And you should look at it the same way.”

It takes every ounce of willpower in Zoro to school his features into perfect stoicism. Then he nods. “Thanks.” It’s all he manages to say, and even that one word comes out shaky and watery. 

“Anytime.”

-*-

In the afternoon, after Shanks leaves to take care of the animals, the nurses allow your friends to visit you, as long as they promise to be quiet and not all come in at once. 

The poor nurse doesn’t know your friends at all.

They come in all at once, hugging you, crying, drilling you with questions, and every other minute one of them asks if you are okay. It’s overwhelming. So much so, that Robin decides they should let you rest and shoos them all away as you promise to stay in touch and meet them as soon as you leave the hospital.

They try to check in on Zoro, but the nurses don’t allow them, as he’s still in critical condition and can’t be strained. You promise to send him their love as they all leave.

Nami stays behind, though. 

“I should’ve noticed…” She whispers while fidgeting with the blanket at the end of your bed, folding it neatly as her eyes turn brighter. “I mean, I did notice! And that’s why I’m so mad! I noticed something was different, but didn’t dig enough, didn’t ask you more questions. I– I’ve been such a shitty friend!”

Your smile is strained and saddened. She shouldn’t blame herself when you did your best to hide everything from them. To isolate yourself from the people closest to you. “Sweetie…” You begin, getting up on still-wobbly legs because of all the painkillers you’re on, clutching your broken arm against your chest. “It wasn’t your fault. I was the one who kept you all in the dark.”

Nami swallows a sob and hugs you tightly, minding your injuries like a worried mother, fussing over you, fixing your hair and hospital gown. “I know you did, but you were being threatened! It’s not like you could’ve told us what was happening! You didn’t tell Zoro, and he knew something was up! He didn’t let go, didn’t dismiss it as a bad moment, or just missing your father like we all did!”

You hug her back, patting her head. “Nami, I don’t think we should play the blame game. It happened. It’s over. I want to heal. Just… be there and help me heal. I never asked for more.”

“So just… be your friend?” She smiles.

“That’s all I need.”

With a nod, she wipes her tears and finishes straightening your hair, helping you get back into bed. “That I know how to do. Shanks said you had reporters camped at your house and that you should find a quiet place to stay until it all dies down.” You nod. “You can stay with me and Vivi, love, okay?”

Of course she would offer. You smile and nod. “Thank you, Nami.”

-*-

“Why are you still here, Trouble?” Zoro’s voice sounds more amused than upset, but you thought he was asleep. You straighten up in the uncomfortable hospital chair and take another sip of your coffee nonchalantly. “Didn’t the hospital dismiss you already?”

He’s right. You were dismissed two days ago, but he wasn’t. And you’ve been spending every possible moment with him, even when the nurses tell you to go home. Because how can you go home when the only place that feels safe enough to be called such is Zoro’s arms?

“They did.” You answer, crossing your legs as your gaze wanders. He looks better. Less pale, stronger, with more brightness in his eye. He’s still heavily bandaged, and there’s still an IV bag strapped to his arm, but he has been talking about leaving the hospital already, though the nurses assure you he still needs at least another five to seven days of rest. 

He’ll never stay that long, you’re sure of it. 

“You should be resting.” He reprimends. 

“I am! I was sleeping just a while ago.”

He sighs, looking at the discarded blanket at the back of your chair. “You were napping, it’s not the same as proper rest, in a bed, at home.”

Your eyes fall to the ground as you fidget with the coffee cup and set it aside. “I don’t want to go home…” It doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels tainted, unsafe, dangerous. Captain Mihawk says they found cameras all over the house, even in your bedroom and bathroom. You were horrified by this knowledge and it sent your father into another spiral of guilt. 

Plus, the reporters are still hovering around the property, trying to get to you and hounding your dad as the next best thing. Shanks decked one of them in the jaw when he got extra nosy. Mihawk alleged the reporter was on private property, so Shanks was off the hook, even though he hit him far off the property grounds. 

“Why?” Zoro asks, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. He knows why. So he sighs and scoots to the side. “You don’t have to go, then. C’mere.” This time, you don’t even protest. You carefully climb into the bed and nestle against his strong body, getting hooked on the feeling of safety only he can provide. “Better?” You nod as he kisses the crown of your head. “Me too.”

After a long silence, in which both of you seem lost in your own thoughts, Zoro presses his cheek against your head and sighs heavily. “He’s dead.”

You just nod. You know that. Your head knows that, but your body still shudders every time you’re alone. Your heart still beats faster whenever you hear a foreign noise. Your eyes still sting when someone enters your space unwillingly. Your breath still hitches every time your phone vibrates. 

He’s gone, yes, but the scars he left behind will take an eternity to heal. 

-*-

You haven’t set foot in your house since it happened. Nami went with your father to bring your essentials and a change of clothes. She set up an inflatable mattress in her art room and you finally found some peace. 

Until the reporters find out that you’re staying there and then guilt settles into your chest, and you don’t want to impose. So you spend more time at the hospital, having befriended some nurses who particularly like you, and they let you sleep near Zoro.

Other than the fact that you barely rest, and he gets grumpy about it, he doesn’t contest to your being there. After almost ten days, he’s had enough and hounds the doctor to give him clearance, promising not to overexert himself. 

He gets released, but someone leaks the news and when you, Shanks and Zoro leave the hospital, there are more reporters than you can count, and suddenly, the air feels thicker. 

“Maybe I should talk to them and just get this over with…” You start, your voice already small and shaking, not wanting to relive the worst moments of your life. 

Then Zoro places one arm over your shoulder, pulling you to him as he nearly growls. “Like fuck you will. They’re just looking for gossip, I don’t want you having to relieve the experience just so they can get a scoop.” He turns to Shanks. “Can you go get the car, Mr. S.? We’ll wait here.”

Shanks nods while a frown presses on his lips, then he sighs and walks through the reporters, repeating ‘No comment’ over and over again, though you swear he’s cussing each and every one of them as he walks to the car. 

“You okay?” Zoro asks, concern shadowing his eye, and you sigh. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Stop worrying, Zo, you need to recover, not stress about me every single second.”

He smirks smugly and flicks your forehead, earning an indignant gasp. “Too bad. Worrying about you is in my blood, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You scrunch your nose at him, your good hand rubbing the spot he flicked, even though it doesn’t hurt. “Idiot.” You mutter under your breath, and he chuckles, using two fingers to lift your chin so you can look at him.

“Your idiot.”

“Damn right.”

-*-

Healing hurts.

Not just physically, though each pull at the scars, each twist of a battered muscle, and each ache of your wrist has you wincing in agony. It’s the emotional scars that cause more pain. 

You’re seeing a therapist - doctor’s orders - and you talk, but the fear, the anxiety, and the overwhelming sense of being trapped are still buried deep in your bones. The therapist keeps saying you’re making progress, and there are days when you actually believe that.

And then there are terrible days. 

The reporters left Shanks’ property after three weeks, and though some still pop up once in a while, the novelty died down. They are still focusing on the story, but since the police caught Queen and Jack, both accomplices to King, the spotlight on you faded somewhat. 

While accompanying Zoro to physical therapy, he tells you that Mihawk informed him they managed to connect the cameras in your house to Queen. They caught Jack because of DNA collected from hair found at the overlook, where Lucci’s eyes were discovered. 

The weight in your chest doesn’t lift, it constrains you further. You didn’t even think about the fact that King’s accomplices could still be out there. What if they had come for you? What if they wanted to avenge their fallen comrade and gone after Zoro?

“Fuck!” Zoro grunts as thick beads of sweat drip from his forehead to the tip of his nose. His arms give out, his knees follow, and he slumps down onto the mat with another curse and a grunt.

You fight against your strongest instinct to rush to him and instead shove your idle hand beneath your leg, biting your lip as Zoro’s physical therapist tuts and sighs. “I said breathe, didn’t I?” Doctor Kureha is not the most patient of women, but maybe that’s exactly what Zoro needs for these sessions. “Your core is not strong enough, boy, stop pretending like you’re in a brutal training session. These things take time to heal.”

“Again.” Zoro growls, already setting himself back into plank position, this time willing to last longer than ten seconds. 

“Not yet. Your body is still–”

“I said again, woman.” Zoro inhales sharply and you see the way his body trembles under the strain. This time you do get up, kneeling down next to him.

“Hey, Zo. Please, take it easy.” He grits his teeth together and avoids your gaze. You know Zoro hates to feel weak, limited and useless. Even though he’s already doing exercices that he should only try for another week or two. He’s strong. But he’s also stubborn.

“You need to be patient, boy, or you’ll permanently damage your body. And there’s no coming back from that.”

“Tch.” Zoro struggles, his shoulders shaking from the effort, but then he lowers his knee and sets it on the mat to relieve the strain on his core. “Fine.”

You sigh in relief and kiss his temple before returning to your seat. 

Healing hurts. And you’re not the only one doing it.

-*-

The nights are the hardest. 

You finally leave Nami’s house, thinking that you’re already imposing, even though she assures you that you’re not, but then you don’t head home immediately. You leave your stuff in your car and go to Zoro’s, avoiding returning home like the plague.

If he knows what you’re doing, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, you help him with some simple exercises Dr. Kureha recommended for him to do at home and in between sessions, then you order pizza and watch trash TV for a while.

You can feel all of the unsaid things floating around both of you. The guilt, the shame, the helplessness you both felt, you’ve been skirting around it as if it were a living thing, ready to bite or claw at any given moment.

Instead, you talk about trivial stuff.

But the hurt is still there. 

You can see Zoro needs to rest, so you kiss him goodbye and finally head home for the first time since the nightmare ended. You need some extra seconds inside the car to collect yourself before you finally climb the steps to the porch. 

Each step feels daunting. Your hand grips the handrail so tightly your knuckles turn white. You close your eyes to take a deep breath, and a quick flash of a succession of images passes before your eyes: dead animals, blood, a gutless cat pinned to the door, the note… the threats, the fear.

You swallow down a sob as your heart rate increases. “He’s gone, he’s gone,” you whisper an unending litany as you try to calm your erratic heart. 

“Bug, you’re home?”

Shanks. Your dad is ‘safety’, you’re fine, you’ll be fine.

“Yeah, Dad,” you answer and compose yourself before he opens the door with a strained smile. “I’m… home.” The word still feels foreign, but you ignore it.

Ignore the pain.

“Let me help you.” Shanks reaches for your small bag and ushers you inside. He’s also wearing a strained smile, which you can’t help but notice. And then, at dinner, you and he also dance around the important subjects. 

It’s like you’re made of glass, and everyone is scared to grab you too tightly, or to drop you. 

Including yourself.

You propose a movie night, and Shanks immediately says yes, clearly wanting to spend more time with you and using the excuse of it being cold to nestle you under his arm, cradling you against his body - protecting you, like he failed to do while he was away.

It’s too much.

You fake a headache and excuse yourself, saying you need rest. You do need rest, except you already know there won’t be much of it in this house.

Still, you do your nighttime routine and even try to read for a little bit before your eyelids feel heavy. You close the book and use the covers of the bed to try and disappear. The light is still on, but it seems as if the shadows are even more menacing now. 

Every creak of the old house brings you flashes of the time when you were alone and helpless, every night sound coming from the outside of the house feels like a heavy footstep, and thunder in the distance sounds like a pound on the door. 

You’re nowhere near healed. 

The nightmare is nowhere near over. 

And the pain doesn’t disappear. It lingers.

-*-

Your days all seem the same. You help Shanks with the chores, trying to get back to normalcy, but never quite getting there because you see the way your father looks at you. It’s not pity, it’s guilt. He blames himself for all that’s happened to you while he was away, and with each new day that passes, you fear that he’ll never really get over that feeling. 

You spend your afternoons with Zoro, going to therapy or physical therapy, listening to him complain about how he already feels good enough to get back to work, but then watching as he struggles with basic exercises and avoids dealing with his mounting frustration by pushing himself harder and harder.

He looks at you with guilt, too. But that is your fault as well, since you know he could’ve acted sooner if you’d just told him earlier. So you don’t address the subject, nor does he. And it festers like an infected wound. 

Zoro’s also more protective and worried than ever. He used to look out for you before, but now it’s worse. It’s not like before, when he saw physical obstacles or mundane situations where you would get hurt and had you avoid them before you could harm yourself. Now it’s like he’s attentive to another kind of danger, to something that might lurk in the shadows, to something he can’t see or won’t be able to protect you from.

Your own guilt swells. 

Healing seems so far away…

You barely sleep again. And it shows, you know it does. Zoro and Shanks keep looking at you as if you’ll break at any minute, even though you try to plaster your best fake smile around them. Your therapist suggests antidepressants and you dismiss the thought immediately.

“Is that because you want to prove to everybody that you’re strong, or just to yourself?” She asks, kindness in her eyes, but you don’t know how to answer that.

She still prescribes the drugs and tells you to think about taking them. 

You don’t think about it. You do want to be strong, as strong as Zoro, who keeps pushing his limits, as strong as Shanks, who keeps fighting off random reporters and gossipy magazines. 

But you can’t. 

And one night, everything crumbles. 

You’re in bed, fighting off sleep as you usually do, thinking that you’ll nap tomorrow at Zoro’s, or after lunch while watching a movie with your father. Still postponing the inevitable, still avoiding whatever might trigger you.

But then you fall asleep from exhaustion, as you did on many nights when King was still terrorizing you. 

And it’s like you’re trapped again. You feel King’s hands roaming your body, his weight pressed upon your naked body, his breath hot against your lips, your tears scalding as they drip down your face.

You try to scream for help, but you can’t even open your mouth. And he keeps touching you, claiming you, taking away bits of your soul that you can’t and will never get back. “That’s it, Kitten, purr for me.” It’s like he’s right there, it’s like he never left.

It’s too much. 

You wake up with a jolt, panting, and with your screams all trapped in your throat. You can’t stop shaking and shivering; the walls close in on you, and the air is suffocating. You can still feel the pressure on top of you, the way his fingers groped flesh, the way his breath fanned your skin. You don’t feel safe.

Shanks can’t help. 

But Zoro can. 

With a whimper, you get up on wobbly legs, trying to be quiet because you don’t want to worry your father further. You still leave a note for him before heading outside, though. 

Driving your car with your arm in a cast is a challenge, but it’s the middle of the night, and there’s barely any car outside, so you somehow manage.

When you park outside Zoro’s apartment, you still can’t shake away the phantom touch of King, the grip he has on your mind and body, and just knowing that Zoro is a few steps away has more tears flooding your eyes. 

You knock desperately on his door, hiccups and sobs taking over as your chest heaves with gasps and pain. Zoro opens the door with groggy eyes, his hair messy and a tiredness in his eye that’s been branded permanently since this whole thing started.

“Hey!” He calls your name, and his eye widens as soon as he takes a good look at you. Then he reaches for you and pulls you inside, looking at both sides of the hallway before closing the door and locking it. 

You’re shivering, convulsing with sobs and tears, there’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away, and you need… you need… “Zoro…” Him.

The wail that escapes your lips alongside his name seems to physically hurt him. Zoro winces and hugs you, pulling you against him tight, ignoring both your wounds this time, because who cares about physical pain when his hug can obliterate all that is destroying your mind?

“Zo… Zo…” You can’t utter a full sentence, you can only sob and dig your nails into his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Is– fuck, did anybody hurt you?” He growls, his body becoming taut. “Tell me!”

You shake your head frantically. “No, no��� it’s…” More tears and sobs wreck you, and Zoro looks lost. Helpless again because he can’t help you if you don’t tell him what’s wrong. “A nightmare… I…” You inhale deeply. “It felt real. I felt his hands, his mouth, I–... I was trapped again.”

Zoro takes a deep, shaky breath, his eye closing as he rests his head against the crown of yours, his hand soothing your back, caressing up and down to ground you. “He’s gone… he’s dead. You’re safe.”

And though you know his words are true, you can’t stop the sobs. So he doesn’t say anything else, he just lets you cry, holding you through it all as you cling to him like he’s your only lifeline. He’s warm and solid. He’s your rock, he’s your safety net, he’s your everything.

And you need to stop hiding things from him, you need to talk, or you’ll drift apart. And you don't think you can survive that separation. 

When you’ve calmed down, you try to pull back with a sniffle, your hands rubbing your face to dry it, but Zoro doesn’t let you go. He pulls you to the couch, into his lap, and you clutch his shirt, burying your face against the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. 

“Wanna talk?” He asks, his voice clipped like he’s trying to keep his emotions in check. 

“I do.” The sigh he lets out is filled with relief. “I can’t be at my father’s house anymore. I– It doesn’t feel safe. I’m always waiting for King to appear out of nowhere, to grab me, to terrorize me… I can’t sleep, I don’t rest…”

A lingering sob still shakes your lips as you inhale, but Zoro doesn’t interrupt you, though you still feel the tautness in his body. 

“The therapist suggested some pills that are supposed to help with PTSD and anxiety, but–... I want to be strong and–”

“You’re still strong if you take meds. There’s no shame in it.”

An unwanted scoff escapes your lips. “You’re not taking them.”

“Not everybody deals with shit the same way, Trouble.” Zoro closes his eye and sighs, his breath warm against your temple. “I can’t stand to see you like this again. I feel like I’m losing you… like I’m powerless against an invisible force that’s pulling you from me. And this time… this time I don’t think I can defeat it. Because I can’t even see it.”

His grip on you tightens, and so does your throat. All the unsaid things, the unspoken words of the last few weeks seem to weigh on you. It’s your fault… it’s all your fault again. 

“Take the meds…” He continues. “Please, take care of you, Trouble. I’m here, but there’s only so much I can do to help you. You need to want to help yourself too.” He raises his hand to cup your cheek and forces you to look at him, and what you see reflected in his eye scares you. He seems haunted and afraid, so unlike the unshakable Zoro you’re used to. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

You nod, forcing back another wave of tears. Then he takes your lips softly and you let him. You’ve pecked him a few times after the hospital, but not like this, not in a way that feels like you’re drowning and he’s the one giving you life. 

Zoro deepens the kiss, and you open your mouth so his tongue can chase yours. The slow kiss is very different from the ones you shared when you first had sex with him, but it’s much more intimate, more raw and exposed. 

You need more.

You shift in his lap, and he groans, his hands gripping tighter as he stiffens with pain. 

You pull back fast, stepping out of his lap, but still sitting near him, your hands still cupping his cheeks as your eyes search his. Sure enough, he’s in pain as little drops of sweat trickle down his temple. “Fuck, Trouble. I want to, but…”

You chuckle, your chest feeling lighter for the first time in a very long while. “I know. Let’s take it slow, shall we?” He nods with a frustrated sigh, and you run your fingers through his hair. “There's no rush. We have all the time in the world, right?”

Zoro stares at you, his jaw clenching as he smiles softly. He traces your cheekbone with his thumb, letting it settle on your lips, then pinches your chin, pulling you closer to seal the deal with an innocent peck. “We do.”

You both sigh as you settle back into his arms. Then, after a moment of silence, you continue. 

“I can’t sleep in that house anymore…” You confess. And it’s another weight off your shoulders. Finally admitting to someone other than yourself that your house doesn’t feel safe, isn’t comforting, it’s not a haven, but hell itself. 

Zoro nods in understanding and gets up, extending his hand for you to take it. “Did you tell Shanks where you were?” You reply with a yes, so he leads you to his bedroom, taking another pillow from the closet for you to use. “Let’s rest, okay?”

You nod once more, and soon enough, you’re both snuggled under his covers, close, but not on top of each other so as not to strain any of your wounds. 

Maybe healing doesn’t have to hurt so much?

It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim you, exhaustion taking you under in a few minutes. Zoro follows shortly, his breaths evening out too, because, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it himself, every minute he’s away from you, it’s hell on earth. 

He needs you as much as you need him. You were both just too stubborn to admit it.

-*-

You had the best rest in a while, and though your body still feels battered and bruised as you wake up, you feel calm. 

Yawning, you adjust your eyes to the light coming from the window, and the first thing you notice is that Zoro isn’t next to you. You frown. Maybe he’s in the bathroom?

But then you hear noises coming from his closet, and you turn. Sure enough, Zoro’s inside, moving shirts around and tossing others to the floor, folding some jeans and setting them aside.

Is he cleaning? Or…? You blush, a small smile creeping up your lips. “What are you doing, you big Mosshead?”

Zoro chuckles, a smirk tugging at his lips, as if he’s happy you’re feeling cheerful and back to your old self. “What does it look like, Trouble? I’m spring cleaning.”

Bastard. You snort. Then he sniffs one shirt, grimaces, and throws it onto the pile on the floor before turning to another one, his back turned to you. 

“I’m making space for your stuff.”

Yep, that’s what you thought. Your chest swells, and you bite your lower lip to contain an excited giggle. “For me?”

He turns back slightly, a frown on his lips as his ears turn red. “If you want. You said your house doesn’t feel like home anymore, so… maybe my home can… be yours too?” Then he turns back to the closet, not wanting to face you, perhaps afraid you’ll reject his offer. 

So you get up on tiptoes, stand behind him, and bring your uninjured arm softly around his torso, letting your head rest against the planes of his back. “Thank you.” You whisper and he stiffens for a second before relaxing. “I would love to.”

Zoro nods, then clears his throat and continues his closet inspection. “Yeah, well… yeah. It’s just space in a closet.”

Sure it is. 

And the gesture is so… Zoro, that it makes you warm and tingly all over. 

“Yes, it is, Zo.” You kiss his back and flop back on the bed with the biggest smile in weeks, months, even. 

You’ve made up your mind. After today’s session, you will start taking those pills. And no more hiding stuff from Zoro, your dad, or your friends. Sure, healing is hard, painful, and it hurts.

But it doesn’t have to.

Not all the time, at least.

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|Epilogue🔞|

[rei-ismyname]

Uncanny X-Men #10 review

Well, ten issues in and we finally hear something substantive from Nightcrawler. The Outliers are still being attacked by the Wolfpack sentinels after Ground Bear and Jubilee bailed, the Graymalkin Podcaster clown show continues, and Moonbeam and Gambit go on a date mostly off panel. It looks pretty good but it's unfocused and shallow. The Outliers are the stars and the absence of Rogue/Gambit was refreshing. There's fart jokes?

Nightcrawler thinks to himself that he doesn't want to go back to being an X-Man, except he is an X-Man, isn't he? Realistically, he's having the same doubts everyone else has had. They were left unresolved and brushed aside so I'm not going to spend much time on this. Fool me thrice.

Anyway, he's painting a roof with Chelsea, who ends up being a mutant. Great, just what this book needs more of 🙄. She's probably the wisest person here who knows the mall is a bad idea. Kurt is really enjoying this place as a 'home' that's 'healing him.' How? Doesn't matter. He's just saying words and I wonder why he's even in the book. The lady whose kid he rescued rocks up with homemade German pastries for him which is a nice moment but it's not a substitute for character development. Things happen to him, mostly.

Meanwhile, Deathdream is bleeding out at the mall and The Outliers are rallying. The adult X-Men are feeling like a bit of a distraction tbh. The kids are being developed the most, learning, growing, making choices. It's great for them, but it's an awkward situation if you want more than the barest development of The X-Men. I look back on the first arc and how much time was spent flashing back to Xavier and Sarah Gaunt. No idea what degree of editorial meddling there is, but I find it hard to believe Gail Simone would intentionally take focus off the main characters to that degree.

Jitter uses her powers to become a master combat medic for sixty seconds and takes charge. For some reason the Wolfpack just aren't attacking them right now, despite having a taste for blood and no master.

Calico has her heroic moment and aims to distract the Wolfpack. Ransom is hunting for a needle to save Deathdream and stops to cheer her on despite the ticking clock. Said clock ticks down and he's just a little bit too late, so Jitter is relying on memory. Sure. The 'if X happens, run and leave me' moment is the 5th time this beat has been played this run, and it gets the same response each time. There's value in repetition but I'm not seeing any formalism or thematic purpose here, so it just feels repetitive. Don't get me wrong, the kids are the best part of the book, but I don't get these choices. It's the kind of thing even a parody of action cliché should be embarrassed doing - and it loses power each time.

Time's up! We check in with Graymalkin, where the same dynamic as last time is escalating after the incident hits the news. Trask wouldn't kill kids because of his family history, apparently. Maybe he's referring to his sister, but that's a stretch. He had no problem with basically enslaving Juston Seyfert for his sentinel program. Whatever, maybe it's some new shit. The podcaster isn't happy, and keeps telling him to shut them down, something he's established he can't do. Not sure what was gained by including this.

Okay, Nightcrawler sees the Wolfpack situation on the news (TF are Logan and Jubilee?) He is obviously going to teleport there to meet them, but he stops for thoughts and prayers in a life or death scenario. DEEEEEP BREATH. Fucking really? Yeah, Kurt is Catholic, though he has spent the last few years having a major crisis of faith. He's also an experienced hero and pointedly not an idiot. Stopping to pray when kids you're responsible for are probably being torn to shreds is not something he would do, ever. It's embarrassing and frankly highlights why he shouldn't be in this book. Kurt Wagner is a complex, well-rounded individual. In this book he's been portrayed with 'is religious' as his defining character trait. I hate to go there but I'm dubious that Simone knows a damn thing about him - besides 'religious guy.' All that aside, if you only have room for a single flat character trait, take them out of the book. Kill him if you need to because this is painful. That would free up space for other characters to have beliefs, motivations etc.

Jitter is going off memory and Calico is regulating. The memory is fading and Ember is down though. After encouragement from Ransom Jitter does the Pulp Fiction thing anyway - Calico lapses into despair, repeating her mother's abusive nonsense.

Nevermind, Ember is fine and so is Deathdream. More than fine even. Right as rain. Ransom is reinventing the fastball special except with Ember kicking him in the heart.

Logan and Jubilee finally show up to protect the kids they're responsible for. They're held up by a barricade and a cop. Okay this must be a shape shifter or something because I don't see Logan even asking for permission, let alone wasting time arguing with this bozo. He'd leap the barrier, or slice it. Famously he does not give a fuck and is very willing to use violence. If you thought that was bad, Jubilee convinces the cop and then wastes time flirting with him. Flirting with a cop while their charges are fighting sentinels. I guess now that she's abandoned her baby in Otherworld she's got time to date. This is unserious shit.

I wish I had the gall to follow up that waste of time with 'we're not gonna make it.' This run isn't going to make it. Kurt beats them there and has his second most substantial conversation of the run. With a killer robot dog. He teleports it into the sky and kicks it without hurting himself. Maybe Calico softened them up since last issue.

Jitter and Deathdream seem fucked with two Wolfpack sentinels racing towards them. Ransom and Calico check in, while informing us that Ransom is who they look up to. I mean, she's been doing all the fighting and Ransom was going to leave last issue but sure. Why not? He does throw a robot dog at Logan for him to slice, that's leader shit. If I was being generous I'd say it's a callback to Fall of the House of X #1, where Colossus did the same thing with an ORCHIS soldier. It doesn't matter because Deathdream suddenly figures out he can kill them all. Easily. It's loosely explained and I don't care enough to quibble. His powers are established and they apparently include a healing factor too.

With that, the threat is over. They got them all, together. Right. Logan compliments Ransom who asks not to be called 'kid.' I guess he's the man now, dawg. The mutants are hailed as heroes by local news and The Podcaster is not happy. They've finally tracked down the idiot responsible for this debacle, and she sends him to be tortured. The private sector is rough. I still don't know what the Podcaster's actual deal is, she's all over the place and I can't fathom why anyone obeys or fears her. What does she want aside from a mutant prison?

This book lacks consequences. The adults keep making huge mistakes that other people suffer for yet they get bailed out. It's narrative 101 - if your characters make a mistake they should have to deal with the fallout. They learn and grow. Rogue hasn't made a good decision yet and her team are complimenting her - directly after a prison break with no plan where she spent her time punching Scott. They sent the kids to school and Calico was kidnapped in an hour. Logan and Jubilee fucked up so badly here the kids nearly died. One actually did, but luckily it didn't stick. Kurt is praying and Jubilee is flirting while they're fighting for their lives. These actions aren't being used as mistakes to learn from, they're just things that happen. There's no tension because nothing really matters. No matter what they do things work out and they're hailed as heroes. Personally, I want more out of the flagship X-Men book.

When the wisest person in the book is 6 years old, it hangs a lampshade on how cartoonishly everyone is behaving. I'm thinking that's the point. The ragtag misfits have goofy adventures that seem like the end of the world at the time, but it's just Tuesday. It's the fun book where you don't have to think hard. Moonbeam, Ground Bear, and the Podcaster. PTSD, let's never talk about it again. Diction lessons, sugah. Let's pray.

A look at the letters page tells us everyone is loving the book, and they're definitely real people that aren't cherry picked. Good for them and good for you if you're enjoying it. I'm not loving it, but I'm not hating it. It exhausts me a little but I do enjoy reviewing it. Thanks for reading, Ground Bears.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Hi! Love your posts. Can you write crush headcanons for each of the turtles, like how they develop it, how they may act around them, and maybe ask them out? Thank you! Hope you have a great day!

TMNT crush headcanons:

Leonardo:

• Leo developes slow but meaningful crushes! He's very careful, and guarded of his feelings similar to Raph, but in his own way. His crush starts with feeling inspired by his person of interest, someone who makes him want to better himself in any way by either observing their passions, talents, and skills, or who encourages his limits to discover his own.

• He's thoughtful but very subtle about his affections towards someone, he doesn't exactly want them to know

• Observant, attentive, and a classic romantic is how he is—that last part, in his fantasies, at least. He dreams about being able to provide everything his crush could want or need, even though he can't always do so due to how they live

• Leo asks his crush out after a series of escalating gestures of love so it doesn't really catch them off guard. Asks them to meet him alone to talk because he has something important to say, and then makes the confession.

• "I know you have to know what I'm going to say, you're nervous, I can tell...I probably shouldn't have been so cryptic when I asked you to meet me in the dojo by yourself." He softens his posture a bit, to seem less tense. He'd lit several dozen candles scattered all over the room, partially for himself while he meditated to calm his mind a little, mostly to create an atmosphere. "You've become a close friend of mine despite everything, you know you're always welcome in our home, right? And you can come whenever." There's an awkward pause—he doesn't know how to continue with what he's saying. "Ah, anyways—I was saying...I enjoy your company, I would be honored to show you some stuff I know, in exchange for some of your time. Only if you'd like." God, he hoped that you would.

Michelangelo:

• Mikey couldn't hide his growing feelings, even if he wanted to. And it didn't take much for him to fall fast and hard for his crush; the attention he got was addictive and he wanted to give it back tenfold! He always wanted to feel wanted and accepted by others, so even though he couldn't have that from the rest of the human world, the fact that he had that from you was more than enough for him. He was grateful.

• He's his crush's biggest fan!! If there were merch, he'd wear it proudly even if it embarrassed you

• Creative and artistic; he painted and redesigned one of his old longboards just for you. It had some of his old pop-art on it, graffiti style, random sketches and doodles, and every sticker he could find. He tried to remember everything you liked to put it on the things he gave you, whether it were poster collages he made for his wall art or putting love onto the bottom of a skateboard. Big gift giver, so expect to get a LOT of stuff from him—even sentimental items he's nostalgic over, even if you feel bad to receive those things from him. He has a lot to give. 😌

• Mikey confesses by accident one day when he doesn't even mean to—he's playing around with you as usual and gets talkative when he's feeling excited, so it just slips out. Mid-play.

• "Ha-hah! That's what I'm taking about, I love you, Y/N!" There's a pause where it has to compute for a second. "Wait, did I just say that out loud?" He's serious for a moment—he can't believe he actually said that. But the next beat, he's back to smiling at you, laughing, maybe trying to deflect the hint of embarrassment he felt (which was rare for Mikey). "Yeah, I did say that out loud, I guess. Whoops...oh—now, tag, you're it!"

Donatello:

• Despite his brains and his intellectual nature, Donnie is an emotional person and actually falls in love almost immediately when he encounters that perfect person. He gets stars in his eyes and runs his own compatibility tests through his mind as he learns more about them, and annoyingly, they're stuck on his mind even when he's trying to work on his experiments and projects.

• Helpful, playful, a little stingy with your time lol—when he wants to spend time with his crush, he wants his brothers away because they take the limelight without thinking sometimes. Always offering to help you with homework or if you need anything fixed around the house, he's volunteering for that. Broken cabinet? Fixed. Wifi isn't working? No problem. Pipes under your sink leaking? He's been fixing up the Lair for years!

• Donnie is not shy. Let's say that rn. He's 👏 confident 👏. He's a little bit of a showoff competing with his brothers to snatch your attention, even if it's just games.

• He asks you if you'll have him on a date one night on your way out of the sewers. He'd been looking for the prime time to hit you with the question and was a little nervous to do it with his peers around, so he dropped the question when you went to leave for the night. "I know you're leaving—and this will only take a minute! But I had something to ask you." He lets you get curious. He holds up the keys to his prized possession, the Shellraiser, that he dreamed about driving you around in. "Ever gone on a joyride through New York in a souped-up garbage truck? No?...do you, maybe, want to do it with me? As a friend thing? Or maybe as more than just...friends?"

Raphael:

• Raph was completely UNready to admit he was getting soft for you. Or ready to commit to feeling the uncomfortable—but tantalizing—feelings you gave him. In honesty, for a good long while, Raph didn't let you know in the slightest he was getting his heart stolen over the course of the months he knew you.

• Very much puts off his crush with his prickly demeanor. But underneath that tough exterior, he's secretly taking every chance he can get to try to impress you in the ways he knows how; if there's any heavy lifting to be done, you bet he's volunteering himself out for that before anyone else can.

• Acts too good for sappy things until the moment his crush is being vulnerable—it disarms him, he's a protector at heart. He wants to be your shield from everything bad in the world, which is a lot.

• Raph plays the long game with his crush hinting over and over again he's in love, with no luck at times. It frustrates him but it's a challenge. He won't be outright and say it; everything he does is subtle, but the second your back is turned, he's making it known he's got your attention just to pull one over on his brothers (in good humor!)

• Makes his crush work with him to get the confession out, low-key. He makes you guess until you finally start to piece everything together. He will not be saying it with his words, but he'll definitely show it.

• "Y/N. C'mere," he says. "What're you still doing here this late, dummy? Already said it's not safe to walk home alone." Silence. "Agh, I did it again. Ignore my crap. But I mean it, stop goin' home alone, you know I told you I'd come too. And if I ain't available then I'm making Mikey go. Hear me? Stop acting like it's a burden or whatever..." He's kicking himself mentally for being unable to say what he actually wants to say. He ruffles your hair roughly to deflect. "See, now ya look silly like you act. Come on, let's go. I like you better safe in one piece than ending up in the back of some guy's van."

I lost all of my TMNT gifs from my old phone 😭 The post feels bare without it, but anyways, this is my first post in over a year so i hope it's good! 🐢🐢🐢🐢

[sillyuin]

could i request dk angst + comfort! where he comforts you after a fight, where he raised his voice for the first time at you

Hi anon! 🩵 thank you so much for your request. It took me longer than I expected, big apologize for that. But better late than never, so here it is. Hope you like it!

Genre: Angts ??, hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Dokyeom x gn!reader.

Warnings: Dk is a big idiot bit rude, misunderstandings, crying but ends well.

- Yuin’s note: Barely proofread. I really tried to do something shorter for the sake of my (now weak) mental health, but I ended up writing this 😭

Seokmin sighed deeply and knocked on the door again. He had lost count of how many times he had done it, and every time the result was the same: absolute silence.

Seokmin sighed deeply and knocked on the door once more, trying to ignore the pain on his knuckles and the heaviness on his chest. The absolute silence filling the apartment was like a punishment, a weight on his shoulders that was greater than he could bear.

“Y/n, can you come out? Please,” he said softly, pleading, “we need to talk.”

“No, I don’t want to...” you mumbled from the other side, “get lost.”

I’m sorry,” he swallowed hard, resting his forehead against the door, “I shouldn't have said that.”

Maybe it was his broken voice, or the many times he had already begged for your forgiveness; something inside you seemed to have made you react, and getting up from the bedroom floor, you placed your hand on the doorknob, your hands trembling as you hesitated at the last second.

“Promise that… you won’t yell at me again…”

“…I promise. I just want to see you.”

You had arrived especially late from work. After the usual workday, you went out with your coworkers to celebrate—it was the start of the weekend, and the night was still young, so you couldn’t say no when the whole department agreed to go out for dinner and some drinks.

It had been a wonderful evening, you arrived at your apartment and you were still euphoric, however, it only took a few minutes for it to completely disappear.

You just walked into the living room when Seokmin came out to meet you. He was still wearing his work clothes, his expression strangely serious.

“Seokminie!” you exclaimed, trying to ignore the tension on his face, “how was your…?”

“Tell me where you were,” he interrupted, his voice serious and demanding, “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

“I was just drinking with my coworkers, that’s all.”

You raised both arms toward him, but you stopped in your tracks when he took a step back with no hesitation.

“You’re not going to convince me like that,” his face grew more tense, his voice harsher, “Tell me the truth, why did you come so late without telling me anything?”

“I already told you, I went for dinner and some drinks with my coworkers. We were all women, don’t worry about that”

“How can you just say that? I tried calling you, a lot of time, and you didn’t answer any of them. You made me worry!”

“You’re overreacting, I would never…”

“I’m not overreacting!”

The argument did nothing but escalate quickly to the point where there was no room for explanations, nor for excuses, it was like a contest of who could say the worst sentence to the other part, and it was only a matter of a few words before there was no turning back.

“You don’t care about me or what happens to me” you objected, pointing your finger at him.

His jaw tightened, his voice started to raise more and more with every sentence. “What do you mean that I don’t care? I was all worried about you!”

“Oh, really? Then, why didn’t you show up? My friends were the only ones there when I needed you the most!”

“If you’re so happy with them, then why are you even here!? Just go away!”

You swallowed hard as you stood there, tears filling your eyes. Your throat was sore but still you managed to find courage to continue. “…If I leave, you won’t see me again.”

“Then just leave!”

His voice echoed in the walls and to the deepest part of your mind, a shiver ran down your spine as you tried to think of a proper answer, but you could only ask a simple question. “... What?”

“I don’t want to see you anymore!”

There was a brief and heavy silence; the echoes of his words were still lingering in the air, and before you could hear anything else, you ran to the bedroom slamming the door behind you with all of your strength, and the words left unsaid turned into tears impossible to stop.

Why did it have to go so far? You told yourself there was no need to be so cruel, as if it were all his fault. But in the end, the only person you could blame was yourself, as a burden that was yours and only yours.

The door behind you started to sound several times, Seokmin knocking and calling your name, each time more insistently, every passing second added a new layer of confusion and despair into him.

“Y/n! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to say that.” 

But there was no response other than muffled sobs from the other side of the door.

“Let me in, please!” he continued, “we need to talk!”

No matter how many times he called, you couldn’t do anything. Sitting on the floor, you brought your knees to your chest and hid your face there. Coming out wasn't a option, you were afraid that opening the door would mean facing a stranger again. 

His words were stuck in your head to the point where you felt like it might explode at any moment, and the voice calling your name only intensified that pain. 

“Why did I even come home…?” Was all you could think of. And finally, the silence you longed for.

Seokmin sighed deeply and waited for a moment, taking the deepest breath, and knocked on the door again, this time slow and gentle, calling you with a calm voice.

“I’m sorry,” he swallowed hard, resting his forehead against the door, “I shouldn't have said that.”

Maybe it was his broken voice, or the many times he had already begged for your forgiveness; something inside you seemed to have made you react, and getting up from the bedroom floor, you placed your hand on the doorknob, your hands trembling as you hesitated at the last second.

“Promise that… you won’t yell at me again…”

“…I promise. I just want to see you.”

No words were said, no one dared to break the awkward silence or close the small distance between you. It was almost impossible to look him in the eyes, but somehow you managed to utter a few words.

“I tried to call you a while ago,” you murmured, “why didn’t you answer even once?”

“What? When?” Seokmin remained thoughtful, and when the ideas connected in his head, he felt a strong pressure on his chest. “No, it can’t be…”

“The boss yelled at me for something I didn’t do,” you explained, the words barely leaving your mouth. “He even kicked me out… So I called you. B-but you never answered.”

You raised your gaze to meet his now softer face. “I didn’t know what to do, and I started crying…” you lowered your gaze again, feeling extremely weak before him, “I stayed outside, until my friends finished their shift… and they tried to cheer me up”.

“It's my fault...” he said, taking your trembling hands in his with tenderness. “I got home late for something that happened at work, and I was so upset that I didn’t notice my phone had died.”

“…no, it was all my fault.”

“What? N-no, that's not true!”

Seokmin wrapped you in his arms, resting your face against his chest. It was a warm and familiar embrace, it was what you had been longing for all night. And you clung to him tightly, painfully, pressing your body against his as if that were the solution to all your problems.

His hands caressed your back in a comforting way, and he began to hum a soft melody in your ear until your sobs slowly faded. Before you knew it, you had calmed down, and the only thing that could be heard in the entire apartment was Seokmin’s tender voice, just for you. He then left a small kiss on your shoulder and pulled back a little to look into your eyes.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he gave you an awkward smile as you chuckled, and he cupped your face in his hands to join you. “I guess I did okay.”

The soft laughter brought an end to the tension you felt, while a cheerful Seokmin left small kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, and finally, an innocent one on your lips. He sighed, staring deeply at you.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear, “and I apologize for hurting you., none what I said is true”

A single tear ran down his cheek, and you wiped it away with your thumb. “I also said horrible things to you… I’m sorry.”

Both of you smiled and shared a long hug, as if that could make up for all the misunderstandings and bad moments. Although, it could still get better…

“You must be exhausted, y/n,” he whispered in your ear, “Do you want to take a hot shower? Then we can drink some tea and talk about our day.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, thoughtful. “What if… we take a hot shower together and then you make the tea?”

He chuckled softly. “Just promise me you won’t fall asleep this time.”

You nodded enthusiastically, but he knew you were lying.

Seeing you cuddling on the couch in your pajamas made him smiled to himself, and after giving you a peck on your forehead, he carried you to bed. Even after many years, Seokmin still couldn’t believe how you could turn his world upside down, for better or worse, with a missed call or a gentle hug.

Seokmin lay down beside you, taking your hand under the warm blanket and stared at you one last time, closing his eyes as he smiled.

“I'm so grateful to be with you…” he whispered even knowing you were asleep, “good night, love”.

[bunnwich]

Uh just a heads up, did you read/saw the Leona and you meeting in the novel? I kinda wanna talk about it

Leona and Yuu Meeting in the Novel

ANON ANON. YOU REALLY BROUGHT MY ATTENTION TO SOMETHING W I L D BC I HAD NEVER ACTUALLY READ THE NOVEL VERSION OF THE MC MEETING LEONA???? Also, I was gonna see if the EN translation had been released but it doesn’t in my area until 8/27 so RAAAAAAAAAAAA. OKAY SO LET'S BREAK IT DOWN. (Using @/yuurei20’s wonderful translation) So as we know, in the game and manga Leona comes off as very… aggressive?

He threatens to “rip out our tooth” which, sir???? Like from the first time, I could tell that this was just a “flex” and he absolutely was saying it in a facetious manner. Though in the manga they further escalate it, even going as far to have him going to kick Yuuken.

BUT, HERE???? IMO this interaction is much more indicative of his character as a whole. There is so much more nuance to his intentions here. Protecting his dorm, deescalating, being smart. All the stuff that I’ve been saying from when I started playing twst about him just keeps being proven to me. Also that perhaps Leona, actually doesn't like fighting. These are my main takeaways.

1.) Leona is a well-respected and liked dorm leader who is looking out for his dorm's best interests.

And his dorm mates follow his word like gospel for the most part. I feel like ppl tend to gloss over this bc he is lazy or w/e but the Savanaclaw students mostly love Leona and would do anything for him. 

It’s just nice to see so much of the stuff you get reading between the lines at the forefront here. He’s so much more calm and menacing here than cranky and aggressive and that feels so much more him? Leona’s intimidation IMO doesn’t come from his physical strength per se, it comes from the authority he commands, his demeanor, as well as his magic I’m sure.

-- He is wrapped in a strange atmosphere that attracts the stares of everyone around. Even hidden under his school uniform it is clear he is well-muscled, with a scar over his left eye that lends all the more power to his chiseled face. The fists of the older students froze in mid-air at the command, completely throwing off their momentum. Now, like small animals under the watchful eye of a predator, they shrink away, murmuring, 'Leona-san'. Ignoring the confused Deuce entirely, Leona raises an eyebrow at the formerly brawling group. 'Move up a grade and the first thing you do is start a fight in the street--are you all stupid?' 'But that brat is the one who started it first.' 'Huh. And? Don't like what I have to say, then?' 'Impossible! It's not like that at all.' Leona is dressed down, wearing neither the jacket nor the tie to his school uniform, but he does wear the same yellow vest as the three students who had come so close to exchanging blows with Deuce. All three have become properly obedient in front of their fellow dorm member, Leona. --

2.) HE DID WHAT???

SO in my head I always imagined Leona stepped a bit close and sniffed the air around Yuu/MC but in this version HE SNIFFS THE NECK?? LIKE FULL ON PUTS HIS NOSE TO THE BACK OF YUU’S NECK?? WHAT THE HELL???? THATS SO WILD SIR?? I’M CALLING THE POLICE??? YUUYA ,ARE YOU OKAY??

-- ‘Hey. You.''Y-yes?' Yuuya's response leaves him in a sound that is almost a yelp, because Leona has suddenly drawn close enough to place his beautifully-sculpted nose near to the base of Yuuya's neck.Yuuya breaks out in a cold sweat. Having his neck so exposed is frightening in a way he cannot put into words: he is frozen in fear of Leona tearing out his throat at any moment. --

3.) In this Ruggie CALLED Leona over to help Yuu and Deuce fight off the Savanaclaw goons.

That just gives such a layer to Savanaclaw as a whole, that neither one wanted to see Yuu and Deuce get beat up. Leona continues to show he has a soft spot for his underclassmen perhaps. I do think it mostly was about him protecting his dorm mates and not wanting them to get in trouble bc he knew Yuu was taken in by Crowley, the headmaster.

-- 'My name is Ruggie Bucchi.' Ruggie responds, with a deliberate shake of his whole body. 'And this scary personage is Savanaclaw Dorm Housewarden, Leona Kingscholar-san. We already know you're dumb enough to pick fights with upperclassmen, but even you know you won't be winning against our Housewarden, yeah? Times like this, you gotta side with whoever will benefit you the most.' 'Benefit? They're the ones who started this fight, and now they're trying to run away!' 'My my, aren't you a hot-blooded kitten--and here you should be thanking me. I called Leona over because I saw you were in danger, y'know?'Leona looks to Ruggie. 'Tch. Patronizing bastard. You just wanted to give me more to deal with.' 'Shi-shi-shi. That's our housewarden! Settle brawls in an instant like that, and people will start relying on you.' The three students who had been scuffling with Deuce and Yuuya look down at their feet, snickering; they seem to have cooled off after being chided by Leona. As his position in the dorm would lead one to assume, Leona seems to be well-liked.) (!!!) --

4.) Perhaps, Leona’s Lazy demeanor is just a front to something more.

-- Though he has a languid stare, his narrow pupils send a shiver down Yuuya's spine. Yuuya knows, instinctively, that challenging Leona on their own would be disastrously reckless. --

Anyways its just so funny that I never read this bc I assumed (wrongly) that it was just similar to the other version of this meeting and like…whoa. 

I know it doesn't seem like much of a difference now but when twst was newer and we got less depth to Leona, andhe came off as very one-dimensional guy who was aggressive for aggressive sake and most of my HCs were really were speculation for the most part, and at that time as not many bothered to read between the lines about him.

Yes, he is scary (stop sniffing ppl) but also a bit teasing, but lowkey a caring and good leader. I do think his intimidating persona is two-fold. Like…half is so he can command respect from his dorm mates and it’s needed to be the Savanaclaw dorm leader in the first place. And the other half is a front to hide the softer parts of his personality that he denies at every turn, like being idealistic and a good mentor.

5.)  Leona sort of defends Yuu when the 3 goons make a comment implying that Yuu needs to watch who they tangle with.

-- 'Nothing wrong with having guts, but prepare well enough to know who your opponent is.' 'Hahaha! Yeah, just like the Housewarden says!' 'I'm talking to you three, too.' --

IMO He’s clearly looking out for his Savanclaw member’s well being here but I think he does some inkling of respect for Yuu, whether that bc they are strange or simply bc they are affiliated with Crowley and he doesn't want trouble, either or both is interesting to me. 

(TBH I’m still NOT over the neck sniffing thing.)

I will be interested to see the official EN translation of this scene, so I’ll update ya’ll on that once I see it! I NEED to know if they change any of it. Sorry for the ramble but YES please anon, feel free to talk about it with me! I love to yap, thank you for bringing it to my attention!!

(Thanks again to @/yuurei20 for all the translations for this scene!! Your work is so so appreciated!!)

[burntheedges]

hold me like water

Marcus Moreno x f!reader | 2.9k | 18+ | ao3

summary: Marcus is a ball of nerves, just waiting for you to come home.

a/n: this is my late submission to @wannab-urs' Dom that Middle Aged Man Campaign! Sorry again for being late. I had something different planned originally but this week it turned out what I needed was something a bit softer. Maybe you could use something a bit softer, too? Thank you to @katareyoudrilling for beta-ing and Gin for taking a look. 🧡 (also yes, I'm still behind on replies, but I will catch up. love y'all)

tags/warnings: dom!reader, sub!Marcus, established relationship, established dom/sub dynamics, bathing together, acts of service?, subspace, a very intense handjob, restraining (with your body), (1) bite, referenced orgasm control, pet/dynamic names (from reader: baby, baby, my man; from Marcus: love), I named Miracle Guy Rob just for fun

...

Marcus is fidgeting again. He can’t seem to make himself stop. There’s a buzzing under his skin, a tension he can’t seem to shake.

She’s been away for 10 days, and he’s not sure how he’s going to make it to 12.

Two more days, he tells himself as he wakes up his computer and finds too many emails – and decisions – waiting for him. Barely 60 hours, he bargains as he doesn’t let himself pour a third cup of coffee, knowing it’ll just keep him awake. Only two more nights alone, he promises himself as he takes off his shoes in his empty house, too quiet with her out of town and Missy at school. 

“Less than 48 hours,” he answers when his phone rings.

“Hello to you, too, babe,” she laughs, and Marcus feels something inside of him settle at the sound of her voice. The buzzing under his skin quiets to a low hum. 

Soon.

…

You want to groan aloud as you step off the third – and final – plane, ready to be done with travel for a long while. You’re tired and all you’ve thought about since you stepped foot into the first airport this morning, hours ago, was getting home. To him.

Two weeks is far too long to go without the man you love.

You make your way to baggage claim and let your mind wander to the anticipation of being home. You picture it – walking in the front door to find Marcus waiting for you, arms open, expression soft. You smile to yourself as you step off the escalator.

When you turn, you almost freeze at the unexpected sight that greets you. A smile grows across your face as you rush forward.

Marcus is standing by the baggage claim area, grinning. He looks as handsome as ever and like home and you’ve never been so happy to see anyone in your life.

You drop your carry-on next to his feet just before you throw your arms around his shoulders. His arms wrap tightly around your waist as you fall into each other.

“Babe,” you say, smiling. “I thought you couldn’t pick me up.”

Marcus’ face is buried in your shoulder and you feel him nuzzle into your neck. He sighs. “I canceled my meetings. Couldn’t wait another minute.” He squeezes you tighter and you press a soothing kiss into his hair.

“Missed you too, babe.” You let yourself sink into his arms until you hear the announcement that the bags from your flight are arriving on the belt. You pull back slowly. “Come on – all I’ve been thinking about today is being home with you.”

When you finally meet his eyes and really look at him, though, your breath catches. That’s your Marcus, you know him better than you’ve ever known anyone. You can read him like a book. And right now he looks like he hasn’t rested or slept at all in two weeks. You haven’t seen dark circles like these since the time Missy got the flu and scared everyone, a couple of years before she went to college. Before you lived together. You think back to what he said – he couldn’t wait another minute – and you feel your heart start to beat a little faster.

“Marcus? You didn’t tell me–”

He smiles, rueful. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

You step closer, mindful of the crowd moving around you. “Hey. Baby, no. You’re mine to worry about. Right?” Your voice dips a bit lower, and you see him shiver in response. 

“Right,” he agrees, and when you meet his eyes again the emotions in them tug at your chest. He sighs. “I haven’t been sleeping well. And work…” he trails off and shrugs. “Rob was out because the baby was sick, and it was a lot. And fuck, I just missed you so much.” He smiles but it looks more sad than anything and it hurts to look at. You need to get him home. All you want is to get this man home where you can take care of him. You know just what he needs, and just what you need, and the knowledge settles in your chest, warming you. You cup his face in your hand and the way he leans into it tells you just how right you are. 

When you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips you hear the low noise he makes in the back of his throat and you know. We need to hurry. 

“Come on,” you say, reaching down and lacing your fingers together as you step away. He grabs your bag and starts to walk with you. “We need to get you home, baby.”

He nods, already looking more at ease as he lets you lead him forward. “Yes, love.”

…

You keep a firm grip on Marcus’ thigh the entire drive home. He tells you more about what really happened at work while you were gone, and you can feel him opening up to you like a flower in the sun as he lets you start to take care of him. By the time you pull up at the house, the tension in his spine has started to disappear.

After you turn off the car you scan him with a careful eye. His shoulders are looser, his expression more open. Good.

“Marcus. My handsome, wonderful man. I’m going to take care of you. Alright, baby?” He nods, and you smile as you run your fingers through his hair gently. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long. But you can’t hide things from me, not like this.”

He nods again, and you can see the regret in the lines of his face. “I won’t. I’m sorry, love.”

You hum, thoughtful. “This was my first long trip in a while. We’ll do better, prepare better, if it happens again. Together. Ok?”

Marcus smiles softly. “Ok.”

“Alright.” You can hear the change in your voice, and you know Marcus hears it, too, when he straightens slightly in his seat. “Now, I want you to take my bags inside and then head up to our closet. Go inside and take off those clothes and find something more comfortable. Don’t put them on yet – take your time, and meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes.”

Marcus lets out a deep breath that seems to lift the weight of the time you’ve been away off his shoulders. “Yes, love,” he breathes, and you smile as he immediately starts to do as you said.

You step out of the car and hurry to the door – you only have ten minutes.

By the time Marcus steps inside the bathroom holding his softest clothes and wearing nothing but his underwear, you’re ready for him. You’ve filled the large bath with hot water and oils in the scents you know he likes best. The lights are low, the towels are ready, and you stopped by the kitchen for water and snacks. You’re sitting on the edge of the tub, still dressed, waiting.

“Put those down, baby, and come here.”

He does, and then moves to stand in front of you. You let your eyes trail over his bare chest and legs, appreciative as always. You know he can see it in your expression when you meet his eyes again. He’s flushed, looking pleased.

You stand, slowly, and gesture him closer. “Help me undress,” you say, voice low. “I need to wash off all that travel.”

He quirks a small smile at your words, and you know he’s remembering all the times you’ve said that before, here in this room with him.

“Of course, love,” he murmurs, already moving to do as you asked. He doesn’t rush. He lets his fingertips brush against you as he slowly undresses you, and you sink into the sensation of being there with him.

Soon enough you’re standing bare before him, and his appreciation is obvious. It makes you smile, and he blushes. 

You step into the bath, Marcus’ hand immediately coming up to steady you. As soon as you’re situated against the wall, you gesture him forward. He kneels next to the tub, so quickly you feel warmth growing in your chest. You reach out to brush your fingers across his cheek and he turns into the gesture, making you smile again.

“Help me wash.”

He nods, and you can see him sinking into the familiar motions. He reaches for the soap and a cloth and begins eagerly. You have done this together so many times, you move together easily. He lifts your arm and you turn towards him, watching as he carefully and attentively washes every bit of you that he can reach. He’s so focused on his task that it becomes almost meditative, and you can see him starting to slip into that space you know he needs, held completely within your control. His body begins to forget his stress – his shoulders relax more with every movement. Every gentle pass of the cloth relaxes you, lets you sink deeper into the moment you’re building together. 

Eventually Marcus guides you to stand and, after paying the same attentiveness to your legs that he did to the rest of you, moves to drain the tub. It refills quickly, and as it does you hold out your hand to him.

“Join me,” you say, and he does. You sink into the fresh hot water again and lean against the wall of the tub. You guide him to lean back against you, between your legs. The warmth of him is so familiar, and so missed, you can’t help but wrap yourself around him. His head comes to rest on your shoulder and you feel the remaining tension start to leach out of him into the hot water that surrounds you. You nuzzle behind his ear and smile when you feel him shiver in response. “Thank you, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss behind his ear. “You’re so good at that.”

He stretches a bit, pleased, but you can tell he’s amused. “At bathing?”

“Yes,” you agree, sincerely, “but particularly at doing as I ask. My wonderful man.” Marcus relaxes further into you at that, and you smile again. “Now, hands on the side of the tub, please,” you say, and he immediately complies. “Rest your hands comfortably, no need to stretch. Good?” He nods and you notice his eyes have fallen closed. Good. “Keep them there, baby. Until I say.” 

“Yes, love,” he murmurs, and you hear in his voice that he has let go of everything outside of this room. He’s just yours, now, and you’ll take care of him.

You run your hands lightly down his sides and watch his sharp intake of breath. You hum as you trail your fingertips up his chest, tracing swirling designs across his skin under the hot water. “I missed you,” you say, lips brushing against his ear. His grip tightens around the edge of the tub. “I missed talking with you, and waking up next to you, and sleeping by you at night,” you continue as your hands press more firmly against his chest and arms. You can see his interest, which had flagged a bit as he washed you so attentively, start to grow again under the water. “I missed taking care of you,” you whisper, wrapping your left arm around his upper chest firmly and squeezing. “And I missed how perfectly you fall apart under my hands... My handsome man.” He moans, softly, and you slide your right hand down, smoothly, right to where you both want it. 

You wrap your hand around his cock, gently, and begin to tease at his length. He’s already hard, and you feel his breath catch at your touch.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” You pump his cock slowly as you ask.

He shakes his head before burying his face in your neck.

“No? I told you you could.” You’d known, though, that he wouldn’t.

“No,” he says, and his voice is low and soft. “I didn’t want… not without you.”

You smile and press a kiss into his hair. “My sweet man. I don’t want you to neglect yourself.”

His hips twitch forward as you move your hand smoothly down and back up, teasing around the head. Your pace is so slow it’s barely a pace at all, and you know the anticipation will send him falling steadily downwards and inwards until he’s limp in your arms.

“I wanted you,” he gasps, and you wrap your arm tighter around his chest. “It’s always better with you.” You admire the strength in his arms and his back as he wrestles against himself, keeping his hands firmly in place on the sides of the bath. It’s beautiful.

You file away a thought about how to handle this, if you have another long trip – phone sex, probably. And the thought sends a tingle of anticipation down your spine.

“I always want you, baby,” you murmur, squeezing a bit tighter and moving just a bit faster. He twitches gratifyingly in your grip. “Now let me take care of you, hmm? You can let go, now. I’ve got you.”

Marcus sighs and somehow curls even more snugly into your arms. You start a slow and steady pace and feel his heart rate increase in his chest. 

“That’s it,” you whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss just in front of it. “My handsome man, relax for me, hmm?” You move just a bit faster and feel his hips thrust forward. “You’re so beautiful like this, baby. So perfect for me.” When you twist your hand around the head of his cock, Marcus whines, softly, and you smile. “You love me so well, Marcus,” you say, softly, and he gasps. “You’re so good, baby. So good for me.”

You move your hand faster, grip his cock tighter, and the sound he lets out is almost like a sob. He has a vice-like grip on the sides of the tub and you wrap your legs around his, holding him down and in place. Marcus’ chest begins to rise and fall more swiftly with his unsteady breaths and the water of the bath moves choppily around you. 

You press a soft line of kisses up his neck. “I’ve got you. Let go for me, baby,” you say, voice firm. “Now.” You bite down on his shoulder, and with a sharp exhale, he does.

Marcus’ body goes tense as he moans your name, and you feel his release overcome him completely. You pump your fist two, three more times, and then he goes completely boneless in your arms.

You release his cock, wrapping both arms around his chest, pressing soft kisses all along his neck and shoulders. “Yes, Marcus,” you praise, “that was so beautiful, baby. You did so well.”

He says your name again, softly, and you tighten your arms around him. You know he’ll need a few minutes to come back, to swim back upwards through the pleasure and relaxation and release. “I’ve got you, baby.” Your voice is low, meant just for him. “Take your time.”

You whisper and murmur soft praises to him as he drifts, and you feel his arms twitch as he starts to come back to himself. The water is still warm, but you know you’ll need to get out soon. Slowly, you release your hold on him and smooth your hands along his arms. You carefully encourage his hands to let go of the sides of the tub, gently massaging his palms as he does. 

When he sits up slightly and turns to look at you, you smile. “Hello there,” you greet him, and he smiles back.

This Marcus is so different from the one who met you at the airport. He looks well-rested, with all the cares of the world lifted from his shoulders. His brow is soft, his eyes warm as he looks at you. The soft smile that plays at his mouth is so handsome it takes your breath away.

“Hello, love,” he says, and leans in to kiss you. “Welcome home,” he murmurs against your lips, and you smile.

“Thank you,” you say between kisses. “Next time, we won’t let it get that bad, hmm? And you’ll talk to me. And tell me the truth.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love. I promise. I got so lost in my own head. All I could do was wait for you to come back.”

You run your hand through his hair gently, before bringing it down to rest against his cheek. “We’ll talk about it later, alright? But I think I know how I want you to show me just how sorry you are.” You let a bit of teasing enter your voice, but you know he knows you’re serious.

He leans into your hand. “Anything, love,” he breathes, and his desperation to please you makes you smile again.

“Well, baby,” you tighten your grip on his hair and smile when he gasps and leans into it. “I’m going to go lay on the bed, and you’re going to dry off and meet me there.” You kiss him and nip softly at his bottom lip. “And then you’re going to make me come with your mouth as many times as I want until I tell you to stop.”

He shudders in expectation and smiles. “Yes, love,” he breathes. He watches, wide eyes tracking your every move as you stand from the tub. “Please.”You smile and lead him towards the bedroom. My perfect man.

...

a/n: thoughts? lol

[aviradasa]

Teenage Leolas first partner is a human?How will you and Aaravos react?

Aaravos x reader hc!

Ask and you shall receive! This was such a cute idea, and I couldn't resist lol. Also again sorry it this is shitty I'm extremely exhausted and am writing this from my phone late at night, lol also sense this probably is shitty I'm happy to announce I'm going to be making a series based off of the Aaravos family hcs I've posted which will be more in depth and fun!

I'll link the other hcs here

Masterlist

Aaravos introducing you to his daughter

Aaravos getting ready to propose to you with leolas help

You and Teenage!Leola sync up that time of month and Aaravos is done

{Fluff} Warnings:none!

@josmarney23 @delusional-mushroom @imsimping4life

It was a beautiful day out, and you and Aaravos were just chilling out studying the universe and all of its secrets with no worries in the world

That was until your 16 year old daughter Leola walked in looking a little too nervous for your taste

"Hey, mom..dad.I have something to tell you!" She says with an awkward smile as she waves her hands up and down in front of her, a nervous stim she's had since she was a little girl.

But it just makes you and your husband more concerned

You look at Aaravos with confusion and concern and are a little disappointed when he gives you the same look back before you both turn towards leola once more.

"What did you do?" Aaravos asks

"Did you kill someone? It's ok if you did, we can help you take care of that." You join in with a straight-face

"Yes, if that's the case, don't worry, me and your mother can handle that. It was probably only an accident!" Aaravos agrees as you as you both stand up and approach your daughter.

"What? No! I didn't hurt. Or kill anyone! I just wanted to tell you that me and Michael decided that we want to be together! ( I decided cause I'm lazy that the boy holding her hand in the picture that I made the title card is gonna be her partner for this!)

You and Aaravos share a look of shock.

Like, excuse me. Your little unicorn has a boyfriend? YOUR DAUGHTER?

"Wait, who is Michael again?" You ask; the name sounds familiar, but it's hard for you to remember all of the Leolas friends as she makes so many new ones all the time.

Aaravos, on the other hand, is too busy trying to comprehend what his sweet daughter said. He doesn't even hear you ask her who Michael is. he just folds his hands together like a prayer, lifting them up to his face with eyes so wide they look like they are about to pop out of the socket

In response to your question,leola rolls her eyes and walks out the front door before rentering, pulling a tall human boy into your house by the arm. Once leola releases him, he gives a little wave. "Hello, there!" He says nervously with a smile laced with a bit of fear.

NOW you remember him. He is one of Leola's childhood friends. They used to play outside together with all the others. Before you can say anything, though, Aaravos speaks first.

"No, absolutely not. No. It was nice meeting you, boy." He says with a straight face. You give him a small slap on the arm and a stern look

"What? Dad, what do you mean?" Leola asks in confusion

"No. Just No." He says again.

"Why not? Are you mad he's a human or something?" Leola shoots back. Before it can escalate though, you interfere

" That has nothing to do with. It has to do with the fact that he looks at least 30." (Please tell me you get the reference, lol)

"DAD HES MY AGE! YOU'VE MET HIM BEFORE!" Leola shouts, which honestly gives you the sign to stop this before it gets out of hand

"Okayyy that's enough." You say to them.

You mouth a small apology to leola and Michael before you grab your husband and go to the next room for a moment, and as you're walking out, you see leola facepalm before crossing her arms in frustration. Michael quickly jumped to her aid. He gets a few points for that

Once you get into the next room and close the door you scold the fuck out of your husband

"Aaravos, what is your problem? You know damn well he's not 30! If you don't stop and give the kid a chance, I'm gonna knock you out."

"You won't even have the chance to knock me out before -"

"Oh my gods, once again, what is your problem it's completely normal for kids there, age -"

"I still don't like it!"

"Why not cause it's a human boy she brought home?"

"I never said that!"

"Well, that's what she's getting from it!"

"I don't like it 'cause She is my little girl. I'm not having some human boy mess up her life. she's not ready for that torment."

"Oh, she is fine. It's some puppy love, and she's known that boy for years he wouldn't hurt her! besides, there is nothing we can do about it that won't drive her away from us!"

"Oh, there is definitely something I CAN do about it.-" "Oh, don't you even think about it. That won't end well for anybody!"

"Yes, it will. It will end well for you, Leola, and me"

"If you touch one hair on that boy's head, you're sleeping outside. May the gods strike me down if I'm lying!"

"I suppose they will have to! Cause I'm not allowing this."

"No, we are not doing that. We are going to go out there. Talk to them like adults. And make a decision based on facts and information they provide!"

Your overlapping arguments end up being overheard in the next room, where Leola and Michael are standing. She covers her face with her hand and shakes her head back and forth in embarrassment as Michael reassures her it's fine.

This goes on for a while before you exit the room with a victorious smile. Aaravos follows behind you with a disapproving sigh. Yet he still complies

You decide to sit down and talk. Asking (interrogating) Michael about his life, his family, his intentions with his daughter (Aaravos),

Michael was a farm boy from next door. He had been friends with Leola for years, but he was a shy kid and tended to blend in with the group (which explains why you and Aaravos forgot he existed)

after a nice conversation (plus some cryptic threats)(Aaravos), you both come to the decision to allow them to continue dating. But you and Aaravos insisted on meeting this boy's parents.

Leola is honestly so happy that you guys didn't care that he was human. She was just a little peeved that her dad was being overprotective.

By the way, that never stops. He is always going to be overprotective of his little girl. No matter if she is 16 or 9000, he is always gonna be ready to hide a dead body for her, and you are right there with him.

But anyways

Once everything is settled and you guys send Michael home, you both sit down with just leola and talk to her alone, and luckily, everything adds up!

As time goes on, y'all practically just adopt Michael as a son. Who cares if he has parents of his own. He's always at you guys' house anyway 🤣

Even Aaravos starts to like Michael a little bit after he shows an interest in magic and philosophy

Sometimes, when Michael stays for dinner, he and Aaravos will just be full-on geeking about this stuff while you and Leola just chuckle about it

Aaravos will deny warming up to Michael, though. He will still be like, "No, I don't like him." But everyone knows he's lying, and you and Leola laugh at him.

Though if Michael ever hurts Leola ( he wouldn't dream of it. This is just a what-if), he's got you and Aaravos on his ass in a heartbeat.

All he can do is pray and beg for mercy at that point cause running is not an option. There is nowhere he could ever run that you and Aaravos would not find

Nobody ever hears from him again

Ever

But you guys do get a pretty cool coin to add to the collection; alongside that, you guys don't let Leola date after. If she's hurt once, y'all are not letting it happen again.

But other than that, yall are pretty cool about it and don't really care too much human, elf,boy, girl, they, who cares as long as your little girl is happy you guys are happy with her