#when its just you two against the world its hard not to

[zozosrozo]

Park Min-su x gn! reader

coming out as Min-su defender (≧ڡ≦*)

• HE’S SUCH A CUTIE WHEN HE’S IN LOVE!!!

• Very quiet and insecure, especially when it comes to emotional matters.

• In a romantic relationship, he’s a bit clumsy at first.

• He often worries about whether he’s expressing his feelings properly.

• Finds it hard to talk about his emotions,

• BUT!!! He shows them through subtle acts of love.

• He remembers little details about you—your favorite color, how you act in certain situations, what makes you happy.

• Holds an umbrella for you when you walk in the rain, his heartbeat quickening with every brush of your shoulder against his.

• The slightest physical touch leaves him flustered.

• It would take him a long time to muster the courage to make physical gestures like holding hands or hugging.

• His low self-esteem sometimes makes him anxious...

• He often doubts whether he’s good enough for you.

• He needs reassurance that you truly love him.

• If you’re sad or tired, he’d do anything to cheer you up—even something that’s hard for him, like opening up about his own feelings.

• He’s such a good listener!

• When something’s troubling you, he knows how to listen and support you without putting pressure on you, even if it takes time.

• He especially treasures simple moments spent together, like walking in the park or quietly reading in the same room.

• Even after being in a relationship with you for a long time, he still blushes when you say something romantic or praise him.

• If he’s the one asking you out, he meticulously plans the date to make sure you’ll enjoy it.

This was your fifth date with Min-su. You weren’t official, but every time you met, your feelings for him grew stronger. His smile made your heart flutter with love. The way he cared about you, always putting your comfort and happiness first. The small, thoughtful gifts—your favorite snacks or trinkets that reminded him of you. How could you not love him?

Now, the two of you were sitting on a park bench, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows across the ground. The world felt quieter here, like it was just the two of you, sharing a moment stolen from time. A single pair of earbuds connected you as First Love/Late Spring by Mitski played softly, filling the silence with its tender melody. Min-su’s shoulder brushed against yours, a light touch that sent warmth spiraling through your chest. You could feel his gaze on you, warm and lingering, like he was memorizing every detail of this moment. It made your heart skip, a soft heat spreading across your cheeks as you pretended not to notice.

You turned back your attention to the sunset. It was one of the prettiest ones you saw in a while. The sky was almost clear letting the warm colors set in. The cool breeze hit your face, the warmth of your cheeks a contrast to the chill. It was comforting. A moment where you could step away from everything, just breathe, and let the world fade away for a while.

A gentle warmth spread over the back of your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts, like a soft thread tugging at your heart. It was gentle, almost hesitant, but unmistakably real. You glanced down and saw Min-su hand resting over yours, his fingers curling slightly, as if afraid you might pull away. Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. The quiet boldness of the gesture left you frozen in the best way. "Y/N?" he broke the silence. His voice was quiet, hesitant, as if unsure whether to disturb the peace you shared. "Hm?" You turn your head to the side to face him. For a fleeting second, your eyes locked with his, a shared understanding passing between you before either of you could break it. He glanced down at your intertwined fingers. Soft smile spreading on his face at the sight, as if the simple act was enough to calm his racing heart. He took a deep breath, then looked back at you, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "I...I think that I love you".

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

SEMI-FINALS MATCH 2

Karlach propaganda:

“Sweetest girl ever. She could throw you across a room. She can burn down a house. But she just wants a hug and to be cared about and to live her life.” 

“Definitively overused phrase but she's a golden retriever she's so cute!”

“She's the perfect woman!!! She's so nice and cute and silly and strong and wow I love girls”

"Karlach is the champion slave of one of the Devils in a layer of hell, and was sold to her by someone she trusted, and on TOP of that she is an experiment with an engine for a heart and she knows she’s going to die and is in fairly constant pain but DESPITE that she is relentlessly positive and outgoing and silly because her spirit cannot be fucking crushed no matter WHAT"

Claude Propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

[markrosewater]

hi Mark! i noticed in "#1202: Psychology" you didn't make any mention of the two aesthetic profiles Vorthos and Mel, and i was wondering whether any of the decisions being made specifically take them into consideration. like i ask this because one of the biggest changes to Magic this year (UB coming to standard) is something Vorthos care the most about but it seems like nothing has been done to directly address them as an audience

The aesthetic profiles aren't rooted in psychology like the psychographics, so that's why I didn't touch upon them in the psychology podcast. I'll probably do another aesthetics podcast one day (I did one as part of my "20 Lessons" series) and I'll talk about them there.

The concept of Vorthos, at its core, is about appreciating the creative elements of card design above all else. Many Vorthos adore Universes Beyond because we've done a very good job at capturing the various properties in Magic card design form.

But yes, there's a subgroup of Vorthoses that care specifically about Magic's creative world building, characters, and story. We're spending a lot of time and energy to make sure the products set in the Magic multiverse are doing a good job of representing it. 2024 had many successes (Bloomburrow, Duskmourn, and Foundations) in this area, but also some failures (Murders at Karlov Manor and Outlaws of Thunder Junction). The creative team is trying to learn from them and lean more towards the type of creative execution that make this group of Vorthoses happy.

As I've been saying a lot, Magic excels at being additive, but has issues with being subtractive. If you want cool Magic settings and characters and stories, we can and will continue to do that. If you want us to stop doing non-Magic settings, characters, and stories, I can't help you there. There's a big audience that enjoys that and so we're making it for them.

I do hear that there are players that are sad that non-Magic elements will mix in gameplay with Magic elements. There will be many limited formats, and a few constructed formats (like Cube or Premodern) where you can avoid that if it's important to you, but the number of players who will only play with in-Multiverse components is low enough that it's not something we're focusing on in the main sanctioned formats.

It's not that I'm not sympathetic. Go back ten years and I was one of you. I fought hard against non-Magic elements for many years. What finally swayed me was seeing how much I enjoyed it when a license that I truly loved got brought to Magic. There's something so exciting, so glee producing about combining two loves, that I became a convert. I want to make people as happy as I was made.

I know this isn't the answer you want to hear. I try to use this blog to be as honest with all of you as I can. Magic keeps changing and evolving because we try to do things that players will love, and there are a lot of players that truly love Universes Beyond.

That said, we're not abandoning in-Multiverse Magic. We're still making three sets a year (the standard for the majority of Magic's life), and we're truly taking to heart the lessons of 2024 (more worlds that are our carefully crafted take on the tropes and less just a place to show them off). Making the Magic multiverse the most compelling and exciting thing possible is still our goal, and there are a lot of people working really hard to continue to do that.

I think the future is bright for the Vorthoses, but I truly understand why some of you are sad with Universes Beyond coming to Standard.

[d-oie]

well since she blocked me after begging me for a reply i'll write my reply here, im sure her defenders will send her a ss of what i said. first the comment :3

no one is hating on you nor is anyone saying youre not creative, ive said multiple times that i use to defend you myself and that i love your moodboards.. the original ones that is. i think you're a very talented person liia, but that doesn't take away from the fact you stole/copied/were heavily inspired. this whole thing was blown way out of proportion, you pretend you did these things like finding the images online and somehow it looks the same as someone elses saying that its just inspo but that is NOT what inspo is, ive seen you tag creators like n-americano when you're inspired by them, but what about these? and what about the images you take from others moodboards and have "images edited by me" in your moodboards knowing some arent, if you can credit yourself you can credit others. my post wasn't to turn the whole world against you nor was it to make you seem like a bad person, if thats how people interpreted it then so be it, i have an actual life and don't care if a bunch of people attack me online when i can just power off my device. my main objective was to wake you up. to make YOU realize you're in the wrong, sure it was also to bring light to the situation and let the creators you copied see what you were doing which I dont think is wrong. this whole thing couldve been avoided if you were apologetic, if you just said "hey, i see how these moodboards look very similar along with some of my others, i apologize and this will never happen again." instead you and many others dragged it. i was genuinely willing to hear you out and talk to you in dms but since you blocked me i can't.

my response to your dm

you never clarified you didn't steal from others, those past accusations never came with evidence so you could have easily brushed it off, you saying that you were just inspired and that these images don't belong to anyone isn't what your situation is, inspiration doesn't compare to what you're doing, what youre doing is plain plagiarism. you want to sit here and tell me "i didnt mean to copy" when i can clearly see y-unjins moodboard in yours. i tried to give you my respect since i'm also a "content creator" but you keep giving the same excuse when you know youre in the wrong, then you assume i want to start drama like i live on it, sweetie no, not everything is to attack you, if someone believes you've done wrong and you're not taking accountability for your actions you will be called out. why should i turn a blind eye when i know the hard work someone went through in order to make their moodboard just for you to take the images? im not saying its illegal for people to use one or two of the same images from another moodboard but youre on a whole new level, you're mad i'm posting about this but imagine the creator's you've stolen from. the thing im mostly confused about is why, why would u steal from others creators when one, youve been called out for this before, and two, you're moodboards and dividers are beautiful, so you have no reason to steal from others when YOU yourself dont want people to steal from you and you have your own form of creativity. and again its you talking about how "if taking inspo is copying then everyone would be copying" ... like do you not understand the situation youre in? you know youre in the wrong and this trash ass excuse aint getting you nowhere.

im not even gonna go in on this, if you cant reply to your ask truthfully why would you reply to my dm truthfully? if you were mature enough to admit your wrongs instead of going on a whole rant about why your friends hate you then this post would have never existed. how hard is it to admit your wrongs and start anew? i get it, everyone makes mistakes, but everyone can always own up to and fix their own mistakes.

i guess im evil for bringing the truth to light, if this were to happen to me ID OWN UP TO MY MISTAKES. yes taking inspo isnt bad but if it gets to the point i get called out for copying when i personally believe i was just being inspired by others id apologize and see what i can do differently, since ya know, im at that point in life where i can admit my wrongs, you on the other hand did not do so and tried to pretend it wasnt an exact replica. my post wasnt to bring hate or spit on your name, if anyone sent you aggressive comments then you have the action to report or block them, i cant control what people say, damn i can rarely control what i say, and i dont know where youre getting the idea that i hate you when i never once said that and i actually said this not only once, not twice, not thrice, but multiple times that i use to respect you, you were one of many creators that i would defend with my life, you use to inspire me, now i feel nothing, just disappointment which is what a lot of people feel, that doesn't give you the right to guilt-trip your mutuals, like what your "defender" said, moots are like real friends, once you lose their trust its hard to gain it back, if you really cared you wouldn't have allowed this to get blow way out of proportion and would have just admitted your wrongs, hell when you dmed your entire following list you should have explained the situation to them rather than trying to make them feel bad for how THEY feel about the situation. then you have the audacity to say "dare to tell me to my face rather than being a coward" as if youre not one? you escalated the situation, youre the one who's been sitting on your ass feining for my reply, crying to your moots how they're bad friends for believing this even though theres full blown evidence. im not a coward, i had the balls to post this knowing you'd see it, you're acting as if i was leaving you in the dark, like i didnt think you would ever see this post, like i was plotting on your downfall behind a secret account. "think before acting" how about you follow your own advice before trying to give advice to others. thanks.

i didnt want this to go this far, i believed that once i posted this you would admit your mistakes and change for the better, i didnt unfollow you because i wanted to see you continue to grow and continue to be the amazing creator you are without the copying, but i guess that was just a fairytale and i have to face the reality of randos on the internet not being able to take accountability.

Hi guys, it's come to my attention that someone in the moodboard community known as lil-liaa has been copying / taking heavy "inspo" from other creators like @y-unjins and @iluvrei view more for more info + evidence + my opinions on the whole situation

before i start, i'm not trying to run lil-liaa off the platform nor am i trying to stur up drama, this is just to bring light to the situation as not many people know and many people (including myself) defended her when this first happened, i also want liia to realize that what she's doing isn't right and that she shouldn't just brush off "accusations" like these when there is evidence.

proofs

you can see the similarities as lil-liaa used 3 of the exact same pics as iluvrei's including one edited by the original creator without adding credits to the post.

2nd

here you can instantly tell that the moodboard was copied (lil-liaas on the right being an exact replica of y-unjins), only changing 2 pics excluding the idol change and

3rd / last

lastly, you can see how one lia used the exact same divider (+ didnt give creds), two she uses the same images not only in the moodboard but also in her gif (same pics from y-unjins moodboard including the png)

now, lil-liaa was sent multiple anonymous ask from last year and one recently accusing her of stealing moodboards, although a lot of people defended her last year including me due to the ask having no sorts of proof of moodboards being stolen and no one else speaking on it but now the recent ask she has received included proof and her response to it was very (in my opinion) rude and just sounded like she didn't care.

in my opinion, i don't believe this was just a draft she had premade and i don't believe she somehow got the same exact photos from y-unjins moodboard recommended, i believe since this isnt the first accusation and now there's proof of this i believe she has been copying moodboards since last year when she was accused. i don't believe lil-liaa cares about this, the fact she's stealing from other creators and when she gets called out for it she pushes it off with the same excuses

tags

@miujo @rkkuri @lvioung @ciestial @aeraras @sugarish @gyareii @i-kyujin @daddldee @i-mmaculatus @haerinism @chaeryeos @bloomqi @h-yeoni @p-oisn @bitchey @yeritos @yonkiibums @y-vna @y-urios @fairytopea @shuaver @yeoniis

[em1989ts]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭

five hargreeves x reader

part one.

word count: 2.2k

summary: you wake up in the apocalypse, with no memory of what life was like before. five years later, you meet another survivor. what happens when the two of you reluctantly decide to work together?

author's note: sorry i took a little break lol, now that school is starting again i have motivation to write so i'm continuing this story that i forgot about. part two is gonna have all the good stuff: enemies, tension, smut, so hopefully i can finish that this week ;) enjoy!

not proofread!

You were on fire. 

The skin on your arm felt as if it were melting off as you sat up quickly, patting your opposite hand against the flame to put it out. A large hole was fringed into the sleeve of your shirt, framing the bubbling pink flesh of the burn on the outside of your arm. You grimaced as you stared at it, the pain remarkable and all you could think of before you fully registered where you were. 

The sky was a dimming blue, telling you the sun had set not long ago. You would soon be in pitch darkness if it weren’t for the hundreds of glowing fires surrounding you. 

Looking around, you couldn’t find anything familiar. Nothing to recognize. Nothing that would give you a hint as to where you were or how you got there. 

You racked through your brain for anything that would tell you what caused this.

Climbing off the pile of rubble, you carefully walked through the bricks and glass to find flat ground, gagging as you saw the state of the main road. 

There were bodies. People were burnt. People were in pieces. 

Turning around, you noticed limbs sticking out from the piles and piles of concrete. People were crushed. 

You yelled and screamed, running around pleading for someone to hear you, to call out to you. 

You wished there was another survivor but there wasn’t. 

Something bad had happened here. 

And you were the last one standing. 

~~ 

It had been five years since that night. The first night of your new life in the apocalypse.

As an eighteen year old, you have become adjusted to living on your own, surviving however you can, even if it means eating cockroaches for dinner. You still couldn’t remember what caused the end of the world, or how you even survived, but after years of searching, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re the sole survivor. 

The only reason you could come up with to explain your survival was a glitch in the matrix. After years of brainstorming through the little memories you had, only bits and pieces made sense. Of course you knew your name, you knew you lived in New York City because that’s where you woke up, you knew you were thirteen when it all started, but that was pretty much it. A newspaper you found during one of your first few days in the apocalypse told you the date of which it happened: April 1st, 2019. This never made sense to you, due to the fact that you were born in 1989. How could you have possibly woken up in the future?

At first, you were extremely cautious. Examining bodies that lay in the street, making sure there were no bites taken out of them, in fear of the possibility that zombies were somehow the end of the world. But no, no zombies. Not even killer robots. The most logical explanation you could think of was a natural disaster. Possibly an asteroid impact that shattered the globe and scorched its people, but who knows. 

The apocalypse was hard to adjust to, having to teach yourself a lot in order to survive, but soon enough you knew how to live a stable life on your own. 

You learned to wield weapons, always having a loaded gun or sharpened knife with you, just in case you ever found someone alive who would try to fight you for your supplies, yet no one ever did. 

Until today.

You had been walking down the highway for a few days now, heading south for the winter to escape the cold. Dragging your wagon behind you, which carried all your necessities, you noticed a gas station on the side of the road in the distance. Your food rations had been running low, so you were thrilled to be able to stock up before continuing your travels. 

Swerving through the abandoned cars that were left on the road, full of bones, you quickly walked to the rest stop. You would’ve opted for running but you did your best to preserve your energy for when it was needed most. 

Like always, there were no footprints indicating there were others present. No signs of survivors, just the occasional pile of bones. 

Before you brought the entirety of your belongings inside, you went through your backpack for a small pistol and quickly loaded it before shoving it in your pocket. A knife was snug in your sock for easy access as well. Your wagon was left just outside the door for a moment as you went up to the glass and scanned the interior of the gas station. Nothing looked suspicious so you grabbed your wagon and made your way inside. It was difficult to maneuver the metal cart through the door but once it passed through, you hurried over to the closest aisle and started examining its contents. 

You were thrilled to find pads that hadn’t been entirely burned up, stuffing a good amount of those into your backpack. There was a good amount of medicine and health supplies still intact but you didn’t entirely trust the expired medication. The wall was lined with shelves of unrefrigerated drinks which you were about to stand up and look through when you heard something. It almost sounded like a shoe squeaking against the smooth floor. 

You froze. You mustn’t have heard that correctly. 

There were often times where you hallucinated people. Just simple people, families living their normal lives in a normal world like it hadn’t burned to the ground. Noises that you knew weren’t real played in your head. But this made every alarm ring in your brain 

Survival kicked in as you remained low, your shoes were scuffed up and you were careful and light on your feet. It couldn’t have been you that made that sound. 

You slowly crawled to the edge of the aisle, lifting each foot as quietly as possible until you made it to the corner. 

Instead of sticking your head out of the aisle to look, in fear of a headshot, you looked for a reflection that could tell you if anything or anyone else was in the store. 

In the corner above your head, there was a circle reflective mirror that allowed you to see the entire store, but as you noticed it, you weren’t fast enough to dodge the figure around the corner that lunged at you as soon as your eyes saw its reflection. 

The figure covered most of their face with a cloth mask and a hat with goggles that covered their eyes. They pinned you down onto the hard floor by your shoulders and it knocked the breath out of you initially but you quickly stabilized and kicked your knees up into them to shove them off. Neither of you had gotten up onto your feet yet, both brawling, almost forgetting how to fight after only imagining it for so long. The two of you quickly stood up to continue the fight and before they could lunge at you once again, you drew the pistol from your pocket and aimed it straight for their head. You didn’t want to shoot the only other living person in the world, yet you would if you had to. 

You couldn’t make out their eyes through the goggles but you could see them freeze at the sight of the barrel pointing at them. 

The gun was as steady as your stance. They slowly raised their hands as they reached for the hat. You cocked the gun, warning them not to dare to reach for anything. They raised one hand in reassurance as they pulled off the hat, the goggles coming off with it. 

A boy. 

His hair was shaggy, dark brown and awkwardly grown out. His eyes were a piercing green, brightly contrasting from the dust and dirt on his forehead. 

As he pulled his bandana from the bridge of his nose, he revealed the rest of his face to you. 

Damn. 

You cursed your initial thoughts, yet they only made sense.

Stuck in the end of the world with a boy your age, what was the universe trying to insinuate? 

He could tell you were caught off guard as your eyes were caught on his face. Noticing your faltering hands, he quickly twisted the pistol out of your hands, kicking it away as it fell to your feet, and twisted you around until your back was firmly pressed against his chest. He had your arms pressed down to your side as his wrapped around you and held you down. You tried to shake him off but his voice in your ear made you freeze. The warm breath on your cheek soothed you, even with his threatening demeanor. 

“How are you alive?” 

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to stabilize your breathing in his hold. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

How was it possible that there was another survivor, coincidently your age, who you just happened to avoid for the past five years? It made you question how many others were out there, or if it was only the two of you left on the planet.

He squeezed you harder in his hold, an uncomfortable tightness in your sides, as he demanded into your ear, “Answer the question.”

There was no point in struggling further, “I don’t know, okay? I woke up one day and the world was destroyed,” you gasped. 

He loosed his hold and turned you around, eyes frantically searching over you, searching for a sign you might continue to fight him. 

You stood still, staring at him in return, not sure what to do. He seemed deep in contemplation, but that’s what happens when you’ve spent years living in your own head. 

“I don’t remember anything from before,” you elaborated, “I just remember waking up in a pile of rubble, surrounded by fire and bodies.” 

You analyzed his face as he took in your story, imaging if the same thing happened to him. Does he remember anything from before? Could he tell you what happened? 

When he made no move to verbalize his thoughts, you said one last thing on your mind. 

“I didn’t think anyone else survived.” 

With this, he looked up at you with a furrow in his brow. 

“Well great, as if there weren't enough resources to begin with.”

He bumped your shoulder as he made his way back to the aisle he was originally in, kneeling next to a backpack as he resumed filling it with whatever he found necessary. 

You were shocked to say the least. How could he be so indifferent to find out someone else survived? Did he want the whole fucking world to himself? 

As he paid no further attention to you, you decided to grab your own bag and continue filling it with as much goods as possible, concerned he would selfishly take everything good. 

You hopped over the counter to grab the entire supply of lighters, lighter fluid, and batteries. When you looked up, the boy was standing in front of the counter with a pissed off look on his face. 

“Did you take everything?” 

You shrugged, “Maybe.” 

This time, you actually walked around the counter instead of hopping over, and as you were doing so, you noticed a case of water bottles. Clean drinking water was unfortunately hard to come by, so this was a good score. You picked up the case with a smug grin and walked by him out the door. 

He followed right behind you, “Oh come on, you have to share that,” he pleaded. 

“Oh I have to? I don’t think so, I don’t owe you anything,” you said as you plopped the case onto your wagon. 

As you walked off, you could tell he was in a bit of a mental dilemma, yet you were also in the same boat. 

Should you turn around and work together with him? Combine resources and stop the other from going mad in isolation? Or should you go your separate ways? Stay on your own, only focusing on keeping one person alive. 

You came to a stop, deciding it might be better to stick with him. If he threatened you or if he was too much of an asshole, you could just kill him. 

When you turned around you jumped, not realizing he had walked up to you. 

“I have a base, not too far down the road,” he said to you, “We could work together.” 

You signed, contemplating one last time. You only made a base once, but it didn’t hold up well and you ran out of supplies quickly. It was easier to be on the road and travel for food and make temporary stops. However, something told you to go with him. Call it instinct if you will, but you stuck your hand out. He immediately took your palm in his and gave it a firm shake. 

If only you knew what you were getting into.

~~~

[achilles-rage]

Hii can I request 18) complicated sex with an ex from the smut list with buck

sorry this took a while, my mom wanted to watch the beetlejuice movies with me lol. but i'm back, and i'm gonna post a couple more before i go to bed!!

number 18 from this post: "complicated sex with an ex"

you remember the last time you saw evan.

you were both 19, and he had just told you that he was dropping out of college and running away from pennsylvania. you had been dating for almost a year, and even after you begged him to stay with you, to not leave you, he had told you that he had to.

with that, he was gone, and you hadn't seen, or heard from him, in 10 years.

until today.

you had recently moved to los angeles for work, and when your building was doing a routine fire drill, you saw the man that you were sure you'd never see again. one that had left you when you were 19 and had you questioning every relationship you've been in since.

"evan?"

your voice travels through the crowd and hits his ears, and his stomach drops.

he knows that voice. he knows it will too well. and, the last time he heard it, it was practically screaming at him, telling him that he was abandoning her, and that he didn't love her as much as she thought he did.

when his eyes meet yours, both of your expressions are the exact same; jaws slack, and the look in your eyes a mix between disbelief, joy, and a tinge of regret.

"what are you doing here?" he asks as he closes the distance between you two. he wants to reach out to you, to pull you into his arms and never let go, but he holds back. the last time you saw him, you were crying, and yelling, telling him that you hated him in the heat of the moment.

"i live here." you reply, your voice light and airy, as if you still don't believe that he's standing in front of you.

"me too." he tells you, a smile making its way onto his face as his eyes travel down your soft figure. you're still the same as 10 years ago, although you look older. he's missed your kind eyes, and you pretty smile, but he also misses your plush body, the one that he's been thinking of for years.

he's torn from his daze when he feels your palm hit his chest. it's not hard enough to hurt, especially with his gear on, and when his eyes meet yours again, he sees anger and hurt replacing the disbelief in your eyes.

"how could you?" you whisper-yell, still aware enough that you're surrounded by people.

he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, but no words come out.

those years were some of the best of his life; he got to travel the world and meet so many people, but they were also the hardest. he knew you wouldn't go with him, and he didn't want you to either. he knew how important college was to you, and he didn't want to make you decide between him and your future.

as he looks down at you, head still spinning with both disbelief and relief that you're finally back, all he can say is "do you wanna go out with me?"

"what?" you ask, brows furrowed and a slight frown on your face. this is the first time you've seen him in how long, and he's asking you out?

"please let me make it up to you. i was a fucking idiot- i still am. please let me take you out." he pleads. he knows you've never been able to say no to his puppy-dog eyes.

"okay." you say with a sigh. at the very least, you’ll get the chance to tell him how he made you feel.

evan, who you've since learned goes by buck now, is still as charismatic as ever, and by the end of the night, you felt yourself, against your better judgement, forgiving him for everything.

it’s how he get you here; in his apartment, in his bed, completely bare and pinned down under him.

his thrusts are slow and deep, and you can feel his hot breath on your ear as he moans lowly into your ear. he was good at sex when you were dating, but you catch yourself thinking about how the hell he got so good since then. he’s hitting that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and it’s making your back arch and your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy.

“fuck, i’ve missed you so much, baby.” he rasps in your ear before bringing his lips to yours, kissing you so passionately that your head spins.

all you can do is moan in response, gripping his shoulders tightly as you feel yourself clenching around him. when he parts from the kiss, he looks down into your eyes as he trails one hand down to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and rubbing lazy circles around it.

you whimper loudly, tightening your legs around his hips, and as you get dangerously close to the edge, all the doubt you had of him disappears.

he makes sure you both cum at the same time, and he holds your head in place so he can look into your eyes, groaning as he shoots his seed into your cunt. he continues his movements for a few more sloppy thrusts, letting you both ride out your highs, then kisses you deeply, savouring the feeling of you back in his bed again.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck as you both catch your breath, and as you stare up at the ceiling and listen to the steady sound of his breathing, you feel tears form in your eyes. you’ve been thinking about evan for years, and you were angry for so long, and now you feel an odd feeling between shame and relief that you’re back with him.

he left you, and you fell into his bed so quickly. all it took was one dinner and a few apologies. you remember telling yourself years ago that you’d never forgive him; that he had broken your heart and doesn’t deserve a second chance.

“woah, hey, are you okay?” you hear him ask when he finally pulls back from your neck and looks down at you. he can see the tears in your eyes, and the small frown gracing your lips, and his heart shatters.

“please don’t leave me again.” you whisper, a few tears finally falling down your cheek as you look into his eyes. you can feel your throat tighten as you fight back a sob, and you blink slowly, trying to blink away the tears threatening to follow the first few.

he sighs at your words, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. he gives you a sad smile as you lean into his touch, and then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“oh, baby. i wouldn’t dream of it.” he reassures you, and he means it. he never wants to be away from you ever again.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Whispers in the Studio

Chapter 2: In the Silence Between Words

Warnings:

The air in the studio felt thick with emotion. Marshall stood close to Y/N, his breath warm on her skin, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. His lips had barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the world had shifted. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your hands trembling slightly at your sides as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

It was almost as if the kiss had happened in a dream. One moment, they were just two people working together, and the next... everything had changed. The quiet, unspoken connection you’d shared for so many years was suddenly out in the open, raw and undeniable.

You stepped back, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. Your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in confusion and fear. Was this real? Was he just acting on impulse, or did he feel something too? You didn’t know if you could trust your own feelings, let alone his.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Marshall’s voice was softer now, the edge that usually laced his words gone. He looked at you with a mixture of uncertainty and hope, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. “I don’t want to make things weird, Y/N. I just... I don’t know. I’ve been feeling something for a while now. I don’t know what it is, but it’s real.”

Your heart did a strange flip in your chest. He was being honest. He was being vulnerable in a way that was completely unlike him, and it made every fiber of you want to reach out and hold onto him even tighter.

“I don’t want to make things weird either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your gaze flicking to the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. “But... I don’t know what to do with this, Marshall.”

He took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to do anything. Not yet. I just... I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t feel this. I’ve always felt something, even when I didn’t want to admit it. And I know you feel it too.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. You had spent so many years burying your feelings, telling yourself that you were just an assistant, just a part of the machinery that kept him going. But now, in the quiet of the studio, you realized how much more you had always been to him—and how much more he had always been to you.

You didn’t know what to say, so you simply nodded. It wasn’t enough of anything to say the words you knew were true yet. But in that small gesture, you told him everything he needed to know.

Marshall seemed to take the silence as a sign to back off, giving you some space to exhale. He turned away, running a hand through his messy brown hair in frustration. “I didn’t mean to rush things, Y/N. I just... I just don’t want you to think I don’t care about you, that I’ve just been some asshole who didn’t see how hard you work or how much you mean to me.”

Your heart softened at his words. You had seen the way he pushed people away, the way he kept his distance from everyone. But in the past few months, there had been small shifts—moments when he looked at you longer than usual, when he stayed late just to talk to you, when he seemed to care more about your well-being than just making sure the next track was perfect. You'd thought your heart as just allowed you to imagine those things.

“I know you care about me,” you said quietly, stepping closer to him. “I’ve always known. You’ve always looked out for me in your own way, Marshall. But... this... this is new. And I don’t know what to do with it either.”

Marshall let out a breath, turning back to face you. His eyes were more open than you had ever seen them, like he was standing on the edge of something both thrilling and terrifying. “Yeah, me neither. But I’m willing to figure it out. If you are.”

You hesitated for just a second before nodding, your heart finally settling into something like peace. “I am.”

There was a long pause, the two of them standing close but not touching. It was the kind of moment that felt like everything could fall apart or fall into place, depending on which direction they chose. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like the ground under your feet was steady.

Marshall took another step toward you, his voice low. “I don’t want to mess this up, Y/N. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to rush you, but... I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. If you want to take it slow, we can. But just... just don’t push me away, okay?”

His words struck something deep inside you. You hadn’t realized how much you'd needed reassurance, how much your heart needed to hear him say that he was willing to take his time with you, to be patient with whatever the two of you would start becoming.

“I’m not going anywhere either,” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze fully. The connection between the two of you felt stronger now, like you were two people on the same wavelength, both uncertain, but both willing to try. “Let’s take it slow. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Marshall nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. Because I think we’ve got something worth holding on to.”

You felt your chest flutter as you returned the smile. For the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid. You weren’t afraid of the uncertainty, of the risk, or of the fear that this could all fall apart. You were just... here. With him.

You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. The studio was quiet now, the world outside seeming miles away. “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” Marshall said, his voice softer now. “But... you don’t have to leave. Not if you don’t want to.”

You hesitated, but something in your heart told you to stay. Maybe it was because you needed this moment with him, needed to let it all sink in. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’ll stay,” you said, your voice steady. “But only if you promise not to rush anything.”

Marshall laughed softly, the sound familiar and comforting. “Promise. We’re in no hurry.”

And in the silence that followed, you simply sat together, not needing words to fill the space between them. You had time. And for the first time in ages, time felt like something you could share.

[debussy42]

The Morning’s Embrace

just a small piece that stirs me enough to get out of bed in the mornings:’)

The air in the barracks was crisp with the promise of a new day. The sun had risen early, its soft light spilling through the frost-patterned windows, illuminating the faint wisps of breath that escaped from beneath the blankets. The fire in the hearth had long since burned out, leaving the room cool but not unkind, like the lingering touch of a winter breeze.

You woke slowly, the sunlight brushing across your face like a gentle hand. The quiet murmur of the world outside—distant bird calls and the faint shuffle of feet in the corridors—tugged you gently from sleep. You blinked, taking in the familiar shapes of the room: the wooden beams above, the neatly folded jacket at the foot of your bed, the soft rise and fall of someone’s breath across the room.

For a moment, you stayed there, suspended between sleep and wakefulness, savoring the rare quiet. But the cold wooden floor beckoned, and with a reluctant sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your toes curling against the chill.

In the common room, the remnants of yesterday’s fire still carried the faint scent of ash and wood. Sasha was already there, crouched by the hearth with a loaf of bread balanced precariously on the edge of a long stick. Her face was illuminated by the glow of the rekindled flames, her expression one of utter concentration.

You stifled a laugh as you walked in. “Is that breakfast?”

She turned to you, her eyes bright and unapologetic. “It’s survival,” she said, her voice muffled by the corner of the bread she was already nibbling. “The bread’s from last night—Jean said it was too hard to eat, but I call that a challenge.”

“Or a hazard,” you replied, sitting down across from her.

“Hazard, challenge, same thing,” she said with a grin, pulling the bread back just before it could catch fire.

The room smelled warm and inviting now, a blend of toasting bread and faint embers. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in the simplicity of it—Sasha’s focus, the quiet hum of the fire, the slow way the morning unfolded.

The door creaked open, and Jean trudged in, his hair a mess and his face wearing an expression of someone who’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed. “Why does the sun hate me?” he muttered, collapsing onto the nearest chair.

“Morning to you too,” you said, smirking.

“Morning?” he said, gesturing dramatically toward the window. “More like blinding.”

Connie appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. “Aw, Jean’s grumpy again. Guess the world didn’t revolve around him while he was sleeping.”

“Shut up, Connie,” Jean shot back, though his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

You watched the exchange with amused detachment as they bickered over something inconsequential—whether Connie had stolen Jean’s blanket last night, or maybe whether Jean had stolen Connie’s first.

Sasha, now armed with her perfectly toasted bread, chimed in with her own teasing commentary. “If you two spent half as much energy training as you do arguing, you’d be unstoppable.”

Connie gasped in mock betrayal. “Sasha?”

Mikasa entered next, her movements as fluid and composed as ever. She glanced around the room, taking stock of the small chaos unfolding before her, and then wordlessly set a kettle on the fire. Her presence immediately shifted the tone—calmer, quieter.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as if it were an invitation to start fresh.

Armin followed not long after, his hair slightly mussed and his expression pleasantly neutral. He greeted everyone with a polite nod before settling onto the floor with a small book tucked under his arm. “It’s a good day for reading,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“You always say that,” Connie pointed out, earning a small laugh from Armin.

“Because it’s always true,” Armin replied, opening his book.

It wasn’t until later, when the room had settled into a gentle hum of activity, that Levi appeared. His entrance was quiet, as always, his presence unassuming but commanding. He paused in the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

“Slacking off already?” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.

The room stilled briefly before everyone resumed their morning routines, muttering half-hearted excuses about needing a moment to wake up. But Levi’s gaze found you, and he gestured with a tilt of his head for you to follow him.

Outside, the air was sharp and bracing, the kind that woke you up in an instant. Levi stood by the edge of the training grounds, his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed but alert.

“You’re quieter than usual this morning,” he said without turning around.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Just… taking it all in, I guess.

Levi nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not a bad habit. Most people don’t stop to look at what’s in front of them.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt deliberate. Levi wasn’t one to waste words, but his silences often spoke louder than anything he said.

“Do you ever think about what mornings like this mean?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable but his eyes thoughtful. “They mean we’re still here,” he said simply. “That’s enough.”

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding and reassuring in a way you hadn’t expected. He looked at you for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in your face, before nodding slightly and heading back toward the barracks.

The morning carried on, slow and unhurried, with the group gradually coming to life. Jean and Connie eventually made their peace, Sasha shared the last of her bread, and Mikasa and Armin fell into an easy rhythm of conversation.

And as you sat by the hearth, your mug warm in your hands and Levi’s words lingering in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of gratitude—for the sunlight, for the stillness, and for the people around you who made mornings like this possible.

You glance back at Levi, wondering if he will ever come to join the group. Ruminating over his words, you feel a soft smile grace your lips as you soak in this moment around you.

“Mikasa, are you making tea?” You ask as you walk past her towards Armin, interest piqued by the book he’s reading.

Mikasa glances over her shoulder, her hands steady as she pours steaming water into a small teapot. “I am,” she replies softly. “Green tea. Do you want some?”

“I’d love some,” you say, the warmth in her offer adding to the coziness of the room. Mikasa nods once, her movements fluid and deliberate, as though every action is imbued with purpose.

You settle beside Armin, who barely looks up from his book as you approach, so absorbed is he in the pages. His lips are faintly parted, his brow furrowed in thought. You tilt your head to catch the title on the spine—“Essays on the Natural World.”

“Anything good in there?” you ask lightly, breaking the silence.

Armin startles, glancing up with wide blue eyes before relaxing into a soft smile. “Oh, good morning. It’s actually fascinating,” he says, lifting the book slightly. “This chapter is about migratory patterns. Did you know some birds navigate using the stars?”

Your interest is piqued, and you lean closer. “I didn’t. How do they do that?”

“It’s incredible,” he says, his excitement bubbling through. “Their instincts are so precise, but what’s even more interesting is how they adapt when conditions change. It’s this combination of innate guidance and learned behavior.”

The warmth of his enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself pulled into his quiet awe of the natural world. Sasha ambles over, nibbling on the last corner of her toasted bread.

“Birds and stars, huh?” she says, squatting down next to you both. “I mean, I guess that’s cool, but honestly, I just want to know how they find their way back to food.”

Armin chuckles softly. “That’s part of it too. Resource-driven navigation is a whole field of study.”

“I feel like Sasha would study it just to steal their tricks,” you tease, shooting her a grin.

Sasha grins back, unashamed. “Hey, survival is survival. If I could fly my way to a bakery, I wouldn’t even need you all anymore.”

“You’re not flying anywhere with that bread habit,” Jean says as he strides closer, his hair slightly neater than before but his perpetual exasperation intact.

“I’d outfly you, horseface,” Sasha retorts, her tone playful.

“Will you two ever stop?” Mikasa says, her voice cutting through the chatter with calm precision. She sets the teapot down on the table, steam curling like whispers of warmth in the air.

You take a cup gratefully, the ceramic warm against your hands. The taste is earthy and comforting, a quiet moment shared among friends.

As the room fills with soft conversation, you glance back toward the door, wondering if Levi might return. His absence lingers like a shadow, but not a heavy one. His words still echo faintly in your mind—“They mean we’re still here. That’s enough.”

The thought brings a soft smile to your lips. He’s not one for gatherings like this, you think, but his presence is always felt in quieter ways: a brief glance, a curt nod, a word that holds more weight than it seems.

“Mikasa, how do you always get this tea perfect?” you ask, turning back to her.

Mikasa shrugs modestly. “It’s just practice.”

Armin chimes in. “No, it’s more than that. Mikasa has a way of making even small things matter. Tea’s no exception.”

Her cheeks tint faintly pink, but she doesn’t respond, her usual stoic grace masking any embarrassment.

The group settles into a natural rhythm, with Connie trying—and failing—to best Jean in a game of cards, Sasha intermittently chiming in with advice that’s as questionable as it is entertaining. Armin reads aloud snippets from his book, drawing curious glances from Mikasa and occasional sarcastic commentary from Jean.

And through it all, the sunlight grows stronger, spilling over the table and onto the faces of the people around you. There’s a warmth here that doesn’t come from the tea or the fire—it’s the kind of comfort that only comes from being with people who make the weight of the world a little easier to bear.

As you sip your tea and watch them all, you can’t help but feel grateful for this moment, for this morning, for this group of misfits who have somehow become a family.

You look at Mikasa, smiling softly in an attempt to display your gratitude.

“Thank you, the tea is so warm and filling.” Wrapping your fingers around the tea cup, you use it as a feeble attempt to stave away the coldness creeping up to my fingers. You huddle further into my blanket in hopes of finding last moments of warmth before the day beckons you out. Humming thoughtfully, you look at Mikasa once again.

“Mikasa, do you mind if I pour an extra cup? I can think of a certain… Captain who would love the tea.” You chuckle lightly, already envisioning the Captain with his cup of tea that seems to be his sole means of company, if not for the occasional Erwin and Hange there to fill the silence.

Mikasa tilts her head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Of course. I’m sure Levi wouldn’t turn it down,” she says quietly, her voice steady but with a hint of amusement.

You nod, grateful for her understanding, and carefully pour an extra cup, letting the rich aroma waft upward. It’s funny, you think, how Levi—always so composed, so controlled—seems to soften with small things like this. Tea isn’t just fuel for him; it’s grounding, a brief moment to pause and be alone with his thoughts. You imagine him sitting there, back against the cool wall of the barracks, fingers curled around the warm ceramic, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sips, lost in thought.

You chuckle softly to yourself, already seeing it in your mind’s eye—the quiet, deliberate way he takes his tea, savoring the flavor and the warmth, more content in solitude than most. It’s strange, how something as simple as a cup of tea could feel so personal for someone like Levi.

“It might help him,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, though Mikasa picks up on it easily.

She nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Captain doesn’t like to rely on others… but sometimes, even he needs reminders.”

You look down at your own cup, your fingers gently circling the rim. The warmth is soothing, grounding. You can’t help but wonder what it might be like to offer something so simple and yet so meaningful—to bring a small moment of comfort to someone who rarely asks for it.

“Thank you,” you say again, your gratitude genuine as you glance at Mikasa, your smile softening. “For everything—this, and everything else.”

Mikasa regards you quietly, her dark eyes calm but perceptive. “You’ve been through a lot,” she says simply. “You deserve moments like this.”

And with that, you huddle deeper into your blanket, warmth spreading from your fingers to your chest, the lingering scent of tea filling the air. You hum softly, letting the moment stretch a little longer, a tiny oasis before the demands of the day pull you back into motion.

As you sit there, cup in hand, you can’t shake the thought of Levi, alone but not truly alone—holding that same fragile warmth you now feel in your own hands. Maybe, just maybe, something as simple as tea could bridge that quiet gap between solitude and connection.

You pause for a brief moment, your fingers tightening slightly around the two steaming cups. The warmth feels both comforting and slightly foreign against the chill creeping up your spine. The ache in your bones protests against standing, but the thought of Levi—alone up there, just as you expected—makes you take one deliberate step forward. You wrestle with the decision for a heartbeat longer. Would it really be such a disruption to his quiet, solitary space?

A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth despite yourself. He’ll never let you live it down. You can already imagine the snide remarks, the sharp edge to his words when he’s forced to pull away from his thoughts, only to face you standing there with a cup in hand.

You shake your head slightly, stifling the quiet laugh bubbling at your throat, and gently step away from the warmth of the blanket cocoon. The cold air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the comfort you’ve just left behind. With each deliberate step forward, your eyes flick down the hall toward the top floor balcony—Levi’s usual spot. You know it well by now, a place where he often finds a small pocket of peace away from the chaos that usually surrounds everyone else.

Softening your steps, you tread lightly down the hallway, the clink of porcelain cups echoing slightly with each movement. The steam curls lazily from the two cups you carry, tendrils of warmth weaving upward and dissipating into the dim glow of morning. You pause for a moment, your fingers lingering slightly on the ceramic, the warmth grounding you before you continue.

But just as you reach the corner leading toward the balcony, you hear it—the familiar voices. Commander Erwin and Hange—their voices carried softly through the hall, mingling with the hum of conversation as they discuss something in low tones.

Your steps falter for just a heartbeat. You hadn’t anticipated running into them, and now the thought of barging into Levi’s space feels like it might be unnecessarily intrusive. You glance back toward the cozy scene you’ve just left—Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Jean—those you’ve come to know so well. The warmth and laughter lingering in that room seem miles away from where you stand now.

But curiosity pulls at you. Is Levi really here this early in the morning? You bite your lip gently, unsure if you should continue. Still, you take a careful breath, then adjust your grip on the cups, moving slightly closer to the corner. Soft murmurs drift down the hallway, too low to make out clearly, though you can hear Hange’s usual infectious enthusiasm bubbling just beyond your reach.

With a quiet sigh, you gather your resolve and step forward again, light but steady, your gaze fixed ahead. You weave carefully past the corner, your attention momentarily drawn toward the sound—but soon, your eyes settle on something else entirely.

Levi.

He stands there, as expected, at the railing of the top floor balcony. His posture is straight, composed, but something about him—about this moment—feels different. The way he leans slightly against the stone, the subtle tension in his shoulders that betrays the usual air of calm. His fingers curl slightly around the railing, his gaze distant, lost in something only he sees.

You pause again for a heartbeat, two cups still clutched in your hands, warmth spilling into the space between you. It’s not the intrusion you had anticipated—he doesn’t seem annoyed, not yet at least. His dark eyes shift slightly, though he doesn’t move. You get the sense he feels your presence, even before you speak.

“Levi,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence between you, hesitant but steady.

His head turns slightly at the sound, his gaze sharpening, though there’s no real irritation in his expression—just quiet acknowledgment. He studies you briefly, those dark eyes of his flicking from your face to the cups you hold out. The tension in his stance loosens slightly, though only barely.

“I brought you some tea,” you offer carefully, your tone soft, almost tentative, unsure if he’ll accept or brush it aside. The two cups in your hands are still warm, the steam curling in gentle spirals.

Levi’s lips press together for a moment, as though considering whether to dismiss your gesture outright, but eventually, his eyes soften slightly—just enough. Without a word, he takes the cup from you, his fingers grazing yours for the briefest moment. The gesture feels quiet, deliberate, though not uncomfortable.

“You think I need tea this early?” he mutters, his voice low but with a faint undertone of amusement—just enough to keep it from being entirely sarcastic.

You smile faintly, watching as he brings the cup to his lips, the warmth seeping into his fingers. “I thought you might appreciate it,” you reply gently, voice light but sincere. “Even you deserve a little quiet sometimes.”

He grunts softly in response, a subtle shift in his posture, though his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer—silent, contemplative. His expression is guarded, but something in his stance speaks to quiet gratitude. Not the kind he often shows outwardly, but enough to make you feel you’ve done something right.

You lean slightly against the stone railing next to him, letting the silence settle between you—an understanding, unspoken connection built on quiet moments like this. The sun filters through the soft morning light, casting a warm glow across the horizon, and you allow yourself to enjoy the moment—watching Levi in this rare, still moment.

He sips at the tea once more, his eyes drifting upward toward the distant sky. For once, there’s no edge to his expression—just a fleeting softness, something you rarely get to see.

It’s a reminder, you think to yourself, that even someone like Levi, who thrives on solitude, can find a quiet comfort in simple gestures—like tea, like shared silence—if only someone gives him the space to accept it. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve done enough to earn that space today.

[rubywillkins]

Lando Norris | Beyond the checkered flags

Pairing Lando × female reader

Warning smut, frenemy, insecurity

Y/n had always been part of the Formula 1 world, though not directly. Her childhood friend, Lando, was one of the most celebrated drivers on the grid, and their mutual friends ensured she was never far from the paddock drama. They had grown up together, thick as thieves but constantly at odds—a dynamic their friends loved to tease.

“You two fight like you’re in love,” Clara quipped one evening at a dinner.

Y/n smirked. “Please. His ego would suffocate me.”

Lando shot back, “And her stubbornness would drive me straight into the gravel.”

The room erupted into laughter, but neither noticed the fleeting glances they exchanged when the other wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t until a rainy summer barbecue that their dynamic shifted. Yn was sitting under a gazebo, watching Lando charm a group of fans who had crashed the party. She sipped her wine, trying to ignore the dull ache in her chest. Meanwhile, Lando couldn’t shake how Y/n’s laugh—melodic and carefree—seemed to pierce through the noise around him.

Later that night, as the rain drizzled down, he found himself texting her.

“You should come to a race,” he wrote.

Y/n stared at her phone, her heart skipping a beat. “Sure, let me just hop on my private jet,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Lando texted back. “Let me handle it. I want you to see me race.”

Y/n hesitated. She hated the idea of accepting something so extravagant, even from Lando. “I’ll think about it,” she finally replied, hoping he’d drop the subject.

But Lando wasn’t one to give up. Over the next few days, he bombarded her with calls and texts. “Y/n, don’t be stubborn. It’s nothing for me to arrange. You’ve always been there for me—let me do this for you,” he said late one night, his voice softer than usual.

Her resistance melted. A week later, she found herself walking beside him in the bustling paddock of the British Grand Prix. The air vibrated with the roar of engines, the sharp smell of rubber and gasoline filling her senses. She felt out of place, but Lando’s presence was grounding.

But the day wasn’t without its thorns. By the evening, y/n discovered a slew of toxic comments on social media: “Who’s the girl with Lando? Another fame-hungry wannabe.” “She looks so out of place. Clearly, not his type.”

Y/n tried to shrug it off, but the words gnawed at her. Back at his hotel room, Lando noticed her unusually quiet demeanor.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.

She hesitated before showing him her phone. “It’s just...people online. Nothing important.”

Lando scrolled through the comments, his jaw tightening. “y/n, don’t let these idiots get to you. They have no idea who you are.”

She looked away, biting her lip. “It’s hard not to care.”

He cupped her chin, gently tilting her face toward his. His touch was warm, his eyes smoldering with an intensity that made her pulse race. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “You’re incredible. And anyone who says otherwise doesn’t deserve to know you.”

Her breath hitched, their proximity electric. “Lando…”

Before she could say more, his lips were on hers—firm, urgent, yet achingly tender. Lando melted into him, her hands clutching the front of his shirt as he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken emotions unraveling in the heat between them.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against her lips, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Y/n gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe I’ve wanted it too.”

Lando’s hands slid to her waist, his touch firm yet reverent. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/s’s heart pounded, but there was no hesitation. “I’m not going anywhere.”

What followed was a night of raw, unrestrained passion. Lando worshipped her like she was the only thing that mattered, He took her in his arms in bridal style, and than put her on bed slowly. "I just love you sweetheart so much" before she could even reply he just started kissing her hungrily... it was rough but with care...

He started to undress her while making out..

The moment the Bra was off of her.. he just froze.. he admired the her breasts like they were kind of sweet.. " lando stop.." she said while blushing.. "oh c'mon they are adorable, lemme taste them" he started sucking them like a hungy poor guy who didn't get food since days...

One hand pinching other niple while other was gropping one while he is sucking it.. and you.. you were a fucking moaning mess.. and than he slowly moved to your clit... And started drawing circles on it... He suddenly slipped his all 3 fingers inside you... You gasped... " Lando..be gentle Baby".." yea baby.. I will try.. i will try to be very gently rough"..

"argh you are so good lando"... He was fucking you with his all three fingers... While sucking your clitoris... And than... He put his dick inside you in a split second.. givinh you shockwaves every min.. or should I say every second..

He was good infact he was firee.. after some time.. you both cum together...

You let yourself fall, surrendering to the heat and emotion that had simmered between both of you, for years.

By morning, they lay tangled in the sheets, the first rays of sunlight painting the room in soft hues. Lando traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.

“So,” he began with a smirk, “will you come to more races with me?”

Y/n laughed, her fingers trailing down his chest. “Only if you promise to win.”

“For you?” he said, leaning down to kiss her again. “Always.”

From that day on, y/n and Lando faced the highs and lows of his career together. In a world of speed and chaos, they had found something steady and unshakable: each other.

..........................................................................................

Authors note

As per the pole results.. Lando Norris won by 0.6% from Oscar. I personally think it's almost a tie. So if you guys want an Oscar fic too than you can request me. I'll only be making the oscar fic after this if I get enough requests. So if you guys want an Oscar fic just after this fic than my next fic will be about oscar. Thankyou ❤️

[thechocolatedetective]

Black washing in the art community

There has been a lot of talk about this in the last few weeks and I want to give my opinion on it. If anyone is wondering what happened is that a creator on Twitter got called out for blackwashing anime charecters and that person as I have heard was selling that same black washed "art", for the record you can't even call it art since it looks like a screenshot and the person just changed there skin colour and some other thing to make them look more black (they make them look so stereotypically American black as well). (Every time someone does this black washing, it just looks wrong, and it looks like blackface) Not to mention the constant 💀 threats the Japanese artists and other artists have been getting for the last few years, when they mess up a person's skin colour and make them 1 or 2 shades lighter but you guys never complain when someone else makes that same character 10 shades darker. You guys also treating other people's characters as your own Oc or, as a coloring book, is not helping how the art world sees you. It makes you look lazy (not being abel to create your own oc) not creative (self explanatory your not creative enough to make your own oc or there story) disrespectful (the Asian community has one of the least represented communities in the west media much less then black Americans. And then you guys using there hard work to try to make your community more represented, the og charecter will always stay the race they are, it doesn't help your community at all it only makes it look like a black character can't stand on its own two feet, like there own history isn't important, there design isn't important, there story isn't interesting. We already know this isn't true, but you guys are definitely not helping the situation at all. Don't forget that the big industries also see this and they use it as a scape goat, instead of making another original character that will definitely cost a lot like a lot of money to write an original story for them, design them, try to get the industry interested in them (you forget they are completely new charecters which means they don't have an audience yet which means it's a very big risk and a lot more money for advertising those same character, but if I take a charecter that already has an audience is quite popular and change there race and the fact that the community obviously doesn't mind my lazy action I can get a lot of money out of it) Get the picture guys. People will definitely claim I am racist I am not gonna lie. That word has lost its meaning. Every time someone disagrees with someone else on the internet, someone always gotta be a racist. And for the record, if I was racist I would also have against black OC, which if you read this post, you would have already seen that I encourage them to be made. They are always more interested in their story's design etc. Are always unique and beautiful. Anyways, back to the main discussion. Even if the charecter wasn't Asian what if it was a white character turned black. That also isn't right again. Stop treating it as your very own coloring book. There is no such thing as a charecter who's race is not important to them. Your own community is calling you guys out on it cause they see what harm is doing for it, but so many of you ignore it cause you like the attention it's giving you and the followers. People are also saying how white washing has history behind it. Tell me this when white washing was just starting, was it good back then, it didn't have history back then so it most have been good right (sarcasm) you guys are literally now creating the history of black face. You guys have been disrespectful to a lot of races, cultures, religions ( stop putting hijabis on non hijabi charecters or non Muslim charecters it's incredibly disrespectful and that's me saying as a Muslim women myself, a hijab is a journey to God not a simple covering) history (we all know the cleopatra drama that happened.) I can't even blame people for being mad at this point you guys are digging your own grave. This isn't representation

And what's happening with the monster high fanart community where people are changing Cleos race into black. Which we know by what happened with the live action Cleopatra (and even before that) that it's incredibly disrespectful. While Cleo in monster high is not technically Cleopatra but she is inspired by her. Long story short, people of all races are sick of this. You guys can't have special treatment just because media doesn't show you guys often. And even if she wasn't inspired by Cleopatra it still doesn't make it right

Ps. Before anybody says I am white I don't have a say(does me being white somehow make me wrong) here are people in your own community calling you out on this.

Ps, here are some other people from other races calling this out

The only time it's okay to change someone's race is if you or somebody else cosplay as that character, and you draw that, or you draw two charecter cosplay as each other. Now that is cool. It's a win-win situation. You don't disrespect anybody, and you're being creative. Or you can make an entirely new story with those characters, for instance, what Disney did with their princess and the frog was genius and beautiful. For those of you who didn't know in the og story the Princess was white. They didn't copy-paste the story they were inspired by it and made something new and beautiful. They were inspired, you copied. That is the difference between you two.

One more thing about the original drama that started this discussion Just because the person who is doing this is young, it doesn't mean people can't criticize them. You did what you did stole someone elses art changed one thing about them and tried to sell that same stolen piece. While people have obviously gone to far (and I mean too far, like they crossed the line)since they started sending 💀 threats to this 16 or 17 kid it still doesn't change the fact what she did was wrong and disgusting.

[ratatatastic]

Complete Chaos: The Cats pick their band members 🎸

matthew: finns (good music taste but the best energy)

kuli: sasha (dj), maffhew (singer to which he refutes and insist hes a hype man), and himself as director/manager because hes bad rhythmically

ekky: maffhew (hype man/lead singer), benny and reino (guitar and drums), forsy (pure eyecandy quite literally just there to take his shirt off 😭😭)

swaggy and benny: sasha (dj), swaggy (singer/guitarist), benny (guitarist), ekky and gadjo (no other role than to look like "bandguys")

reino: also finns lmao (popular choice)

sasha: himself as dj, and swaggy (singer, his karaoke insistence proceeds him)

roddy: forsy (guitar), benny (drums), himself (no role whatsoever lol), reino (second guitar) and sasha (cymbals, girl what kinda band 😭)

mikksy: sasha (dj) just sasha no one else just him actually :)

BONUS: sasha finally revealed his dj name to which last time he staunchly refused to do so and its DJ Layz!!!!

[walking-loather]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[groupwest]

Want to actually kill myself :-/

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

When British writers come up with an American character’s dialogue and give them the most painfully British things to say with their American accent and inflection and it makes the actor come off as stiff. :P

[jimingyue]

Cat Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

🖋️ meowful-musings Follow

🕊️ birdwatching Follow

what's wrong with dry food??? my humans feed me it all the time and i think it's fine

💀 elusivehider-deactivated948204

op wheres the natural feeding option

🌲 outdoorsy Follow

you guys are getting fed?

#im a barn cat so maybe im missing something here #meowtthew don't look

7,192 notes

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

YOU ARE NOT LESS VALID IF YOU ARE NOT A SPECIFIC PEDIGREE!!!!!

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

extra special shout out to cats who have "common" coat colors. grey tabbies and black cats i am rubbing against your head affectionately <3

🪤 m0usetrap01 Follow

as a grey tabby i really needed to hear this :"3

#i feel like i never see positivity posts for moggies even tho we're the most common type of cat....

154,688 notes

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

i cant believe there are cats ACTUALLY advocating for kittens to be separated from their mothers before 12 weeks??? kittens still need to learn how to interact with other cats before being placed into their furever home omg you guys know you're advocating for undersocialized and aggressive cats right

❤️ loving-paws284 Follow

um op some of us??? matured early??????? i was separated from my mother at 7 weeks and i turned out fine... interesting how you assume that kittens being separated from their mothers at a younger age will lead to the degeneracy of the next generation...hmm i wonder where i've heard that before...

🐈 fluffy-the-cat Follow

OP got bit too hard during a play-fight as a kitten and it shows XD

🐟 tunafeesh Follow

also op have you ever considered that just because somecat is kind of scared and unable to deal with strange cats or humans, it doesn't mean they don't deserve to be adopted?? you sound like a vet psyop honestly

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

oh meow god saying that kittens should be fully weaned before leaving their mother is NOT veterinarian rhetoric and i never said that they deserve to be euthanized!!! my mother literally died when i was 3 weeks old and it seriously messed up my development so stop putting words in my mouth, thanks

anyway friendly reminder that underweaned kittens are prone to illness and often struggle with basic cat behaviors like litterbox usage, and in some nyavinces it's even considered kitten abuse

#discourse #cant believe "kitten abuse is bad" is controversial now

32,456 notes

🍃 naturalliving Follow

BORN TO DIE

WORLD IS A FUCK

猫神 Kill Em All 1989

I am trash cat

410,757,864,530 DEAD BIRDS

#outdoorliving #outdoorcats please interact #outdoorcat friendly

48,971 notes

🎣 salmonpurina Follow

can't believe cats are uncritically reblogging that born to die world is a fuck post. i know it's funny but op is literally an outdoor cat truther

#like cmon now you just have to go to their blog #lulu speaks

34 notes

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

gentle reminder that pushing cups off the table is not cute and can cause a lot of distress in your human!!!! gentle reminder that our teeth and claws can easily hurt them more than they can hurt us!!!!

🐰 evil-tabbystripes Follow

evil reminder that the cup should always be pushed off the table. evil reminder that you should always bite and claw at your human no matter what. you can do whatever you want forever

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

make your own pawst

💀 laser-point-deactivated8574721

umm i know a tomcat who did that and his human ended up putting him down so...

👬🏻 nyasunaruenjoyer Follow

Nyaverage shelter cat behavior

#not nyaruto #re-nyab #pickles shut up

545,460 notes

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

saw two male cats sleeping together on the porch today. homeow behavior imo

💡 discourse-meows Follow

hey um what the fuck??? it's really not okay of you to go assuming other cat's sexualities, especially cats you don't even know???? as a queer cat i'm VERYY uncomfortable. real-ass cats didn't consent to your nyaoi fetish, thanks

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

1. i was making. a joak

2. i'm literally gay???

#literally what's your pawblem

7 notes

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

reblog if you've ever caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

i know you fuckers are lying

🍭 gaykittens Follow

this tom hasn't caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

shut the heull up

988,653 notes

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

grey toebeans >>>>>>>>> pink toebeans and don't let the haters make you believe otherwise

🐁 ladymouser Follow

op shut the fuck up ALL toebeans are beautiful!!! just bc you're miserable and insecure doesn't mean you can bring others down based on things they can't control

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

oh so the cat-human separationist wants to preach to us

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt how much I love oni's writing again... In particular, "a seed is planted" continues to be one of if not my favorite logs because despite the troubling details and implications that come with it, it's the one thing in the entirety of the decaying corpse of gravitas that genuinely leaves us with a grain of hope (a seed if you will) and makes oni as a whole a lot more bitter sweet as while earth may not have survived, the dupes did, and after their horrible origins and the shit that many of them went through, in due time they'll finally get to just live, they're free now, and even if Olivia's sleep is end of a tragedy, the world will keep moving forward with or without those who've been lost