#that start to just... make their old work look like it should be their new stuff. to put it gently. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheftsunoda · 2 days ago

Note

Heyy! I love all your fics, they are soooo good! Could you maybe write one where y/n is max fewtrells little sister and landos race engineer but media is being mean to her and saying that she just got the job cause she's a woman and that she doesn't deserve it. So lando has to step in and then they fall in love. If you don't like this you could just ignore it but I'd love to read it:)

not on my watch — ln4

smau + blurbs

lando norris x !race engineer reader

it started shortly after the mclaren announcement was posted— 'yn fewtrell has been named lando norris’ race engineer for the 2025 season.' the internet erupted—accusations of nepotism, blatant sexism, and outrage that they’d hand the job to a 24 year old woman. they don’t know you built half the strategy software they rely on. they don’t know you graduated at 19 and haven’t made a wrong call since. they don’t know lando trusts you more than anyone else on the team. this season, you’re done staying quiet. you’re going to prove them all wrong. even if it means falling for the one person you were never supposed to.

fc : lissie mackintosh

(a/n) : hellooooo mi vida <3 thank you for the love on my work! i appreciate you sm. sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoy 🧚🏻

also i love writing like the engineering side of things. my dad is a retired race engineer and he taught me everything i know and is the reason for my love of the sport. there is your fun fact of the day;) enjoy !

—

mclaren & yn_fewtrell

liked by lando, maxfewtrell, zbrownceo & 7,110,011 others.

mclaren : Please welcome YN Fewtrell as Lando Norris’ new race engineer for the 2025 season. Brilliant, fearless, and ready to lead from the pit wall. Let’s go win some races. 🧡

—

view 772,000 other comments.

username000 : ok but she’s actually a genius? she BUILT half their strategy models. stay mad.

username00 : this is history and y’all don’t even know it yet. she’s gonna run the whole grid one day.

username0 : nepotism is alive and well I see 😐

username1 : she’s 24 and in charge of race strategy?? lmao. hope Lando likes DNFing.

↳ lando : keep my wife’s name out of your FUCKIN mouth.

liked by yn_fewtrell and maxfewtrell

↳ lando : i literally begged her to take the job. she had about a dozen offers for other teams. she is smarter than the whole paddock put together.

liked by yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell, mclaren and oscarpiastri

zbrownceo : Brilliant mind. Cool under pressure. Unshakable. Couldn’t be prouder. Let’s do this.

liked by mclaren and yn_fewtrell

↳ username5 : you’ll regret this 2 races into the season.

oscarpiastri : I thought I knew the science behind F1…and then I met YN…and she made me question everything. Congratulations, YN! We are happy to have you.

liked by mclaren, yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell and lando

maxfewtrell : Such a proud big brother moment. Go show them just how genius you are, sis! 🤧🧡

liked by mclaren, yn_fewtrell and lando

pietra.pilao : literally the most intelligent person in the world! no one deserves this more🥺 I LOVE YOU YNNNNN

liked by yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell and lando

lando : no one can wrangle me like this one. let’s make history together bub!!

liked by yn_fewtrell, mclaren and oscarpiastri

username17 : Hiring women just to look good, not to win races. Disgraceful.

↳ yn_fewtrell : funny how the people questioning my ability never mention the races i have helped win. maybe instead of whining about my gender, you should learn how to actually win. see you on the podium—if you can keep up. 🧡

liked by maxfewtrell, lando, mclaren, pietra.pilao and oscarpiastri

↳ maxfewtrell : ATE

liked by lando and yn_fewtrell

username37 : Just here to watch her fail and disappear. It’s not like she’s actually qualified.

↳ lando : talk shit get hit. you’re out here bullying a woman behind a keyboard while she stays winning and getting paid.

liked by yn_fewtrell and maxfewtrell

username45 : Bet she got the job ‘cause Max begged, not because she earned it.

↳ maxfewtrell : lando doesn’t even like me that much, if I would’ve asked he would’ve said no.

↳ lando : TRUTH

username55 : This is why F1 is a joke now. Giving a 24-year-old woman a crucial race engineer role? Please. Next, they’ll have kids driving cars.

↳ maxfewtrell : This comment is exactly why she’s needed. You clowns scream about F1 being a joke, but the real punchline is you thinking your fragile ego matters more than her qualifications. She’s 24, a genius, and running circles around engineers twice her age. Stay pressed.

liked by yn_fewtrell and lando

—

You’re not sure why your palms are sweaty. You’ve given technical presentations in front of FIA directors. You’ve rebuilt a predictive model with zero sleep and one cracked laptop. You’ve told grown men twice your age their simulations were wrong—and then proved it. But this? Sitting across from Zak Brown and the McLaren technical director with your name printed at the top of an official offer letter? This feels different.

“Relax,” Zak says, grinning like he’s already picturing you on the pit wall. “You’re not in trouble. Unless being a genius is suddenly against the rules.”

You crack a smile. Just a small one. The technical director slides the contract toward you. You already know what it says. But seeing it in writing makes your heart skip anyway.

“We want you in the role officially,” Zak says. “You’ve been running the backend strategy models, fixing everyone’s messes from behind the curtain, and honestly? It’s long overdue.”

“I thought I was too young,” you say carefully. “Too… controversial.”

Zak leans forward, elbows on the table. “You graduated at 19. You built the race strategy AI we still use today. You predicted the Qatar safety car last season three laps before it happened. You’ve saved Lando’s race more times than we can count. If you were anyone else—any guy, with ten more grey hairs—we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. You’d already be in that seat.”

Your throat tightens a little. You swallow it down.

“We know what people are going to say,” the tech director adds. “The media will be brutal. The ‘nepotism’ headlines, the ‘diversity hire’ comments. It’s coming.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But they’re wrong.”

Zak nods. “Exactly. And I want them to say it. Loudly. So we can prove them wrong. Publicly.”

There’s a long pause. The kind where everything shifts—where it all becomes real.

“Lando asked for you, by the way,” Zak says, almost offhand. “Said he’s never trusted anyone more with his race or his car.”

That stops you. You blink. Look back down at the paper. You knew you’d earned this. But hearing that? It hits different. You pick up the pen. And for the first time since walking into the room, you let yourself smile—full, bright, certain.

“Let’s go win some races.”

—

Dinner at Max’s flat was always a bit of a circus. Pietra’s voice filled the kitchen as she narrated her sauce recipe like a cooking show. Max was burning the garlic bread while insisting he knew what he was doing. And Lando? Lando was sitting at the end of the counter, one arm slung casually over the back of his chair, stealing olives out of the bowl you were supposed to be using for the salad. You’d missed this.

The normalcy. The teasing. The fact that no one was looking at you like you were about to become the most talked about person in the paddock.

“You’re being suspicious,” Max says, pointing a fork at you as he slides into his seat at the table.

“I’m literally just existing,” you reply.

Pietra hums. “No, he’s right. You’ve had a look all evening. Like you’re hiding something.”

You glance at Lando. He doesn’t say anything, but he raises one eyebrow, a silent challenge. He’s been patient with you the last few weeks. Supportive, even while everyone else kept asking what team you were going to sign with. Mercedes had called. Ferrari had emailed. Even Red Bull made an offer. You’d kept it to yourself, waiting for the right moment. Tonight was the right moment.

You take a slow sip of your wine. “So… I signed.”

The room goes silent. Max straightens in his chair like you just told him you were pregnant. “What?”

Pietra claps her hands. “With who?!”

Lando freezes. The olive he was about to eat drops back into the bowl. “Wait. Seriously? You signed?”

You nod slowly, drawing it out. “Yep.”

Max leans forward, eyes wide. “Okay, well—Ferrari?”

You shake your head.

“Mercedes,” Pietra tries, gasping dramatically. “You’d look hot in silver.”

You smile, still silent. Lando’s eyes haven’t left your face. He looks nervous. Hopeful.

“I signed with McLaren,” you say finally. “Race engineer for Mr. Norris.”

And then—Chaos. Pure Chaos.

“YESSSSS!” Pietra screeches, nearly knocking over her wine.

Max throws a napkin in the air like it’s confetti. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU’D STAY!”

Lando lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for three years. He covers his mouth with one hand and laughs.

“You’re joking,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re actually serious?”

“I signed the contract this morning,” you reply, grinning. “Zak just let them put out the announcement.”

Max is on his feet in seconds, pulling you up into a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he says into your hair, voice suddenly a little thick. “They have no idea what’s coming.”

Pietra joins the hug, wrapping her arms around both of you. “We’re going to make shirts that say ‘fewtrell dominance could bore fans.’”

You laugh into her shoulder. “Please don’t.”

When you finally break away, Lando’s still sitting, eyes soft, lips twitching like he’s trying to hide how relieved he is.

“You okay over there?” you tease.

He stands, coming to stand just in front of you. “I’m great. I’m—actually, I’m really happy.”

You nod, trying to keep your voice even. “You sure you can handle me screaming strategy in your ear every Sunday?”

Lando grins. “Only if you promise to keep calling me out when I whine on the radio.”

You roll your eyes. “Deal.”

There’s a beat where no one says anything. Just you, standing a little too close to Lando in the middle of Max’s kitchen, your heart hammering for reasons that have nothing to do with the job. Max breaks the silence.

“So… do I need to have the talk now, or can I just trust that Lando will behave?”

Pietra gasps. “Max!”

Lando chokes on a laugh. “What?! Nothing’s even happening!”

You try to act innocent, but you’re smiling now—bright and open and a little bit full of something terrifyingly hopeful.

“Yet,” Max mutters, grabbing the garlic bread off the counter. “I’m watching you, Norris.”

You roll your eyes and steal a piece of bread. Because the truth is, you’re watching him too. And you’re not sure who’s more in trouble—you, for finally taking this job. Or Lando, for falling a little harder every time you say his name.

—

Later that night, the laughter fades into tired giggles, and the plates are mostly empty, wine glasses scattered across the table like a celebration that never wanted to end. Max and Pietra are curled up on the couch, half-asleep under a blanket and pretending they’re not eavesdropping. Which leaves you and Lando in the kitchen—cleaning up, sort of. Mostly moving things around and trying not to look like you’re just avoiding saying something.

He’s rinsing dishes at the sink, sleeves pushed up, curls slightly messy from running his hand through his hair too many times. You dry the plates beside him, stealing glances when you think he’s not paying attention. Of course, he is.

“You really had us going,” Lando says softly, finally breaking the silence. “Thought you were off to Ferrari or something.”

You shrug. “I could’ve. But… it never felt right. They wanted the title on my resume. McLaren actually wanted me.”

He smiles at that—wide and full of pride. “We’re lucky to have you. I mean that.”

There’s something heavy under his voice now. Not just pride. Something else.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he adds, rinsing the last glass. “I asked for you.”

You glance over at him. “I figured. Zak doesn’t subtlety drop things like that.”

Lando laughs under his breath, then grows quiet again. “It wasn’t just because you’re smart, or talented, or scary good at reading data. It’s because I trust you. And that’s rare for me.”

You look down at the towel in your hands, your voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you too.”

There’s a long pause. The kind where the air shifts. Where you both feel the question neither of you has dared to ask.

He looks over at you, searching. “Are you scared?”

You nod slowly. “A little. Not of the job. Just… everything else.”

His gaze softens, and he takes a step closer. Not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth between you.

“Whatever it is,” he says, voice low, “we figure it out together.”

You blink at him. Your breath catches, just a little.

“Even if Max threatens to murder you?” you joke.

Lando smirks. “Especially then.”

The moment hangs there—close, careful, charged. You want to kiss him. You have for years. It is definitely not the time now. But the thought is there, sitting between you, unspoken and inevitable.

Instead, he nudges your shoulder gently. “Come on. You’re off duty tonight. I’ll finish up.”

You hand him the towel and roll your eyes. “Don’t screw up the glassware, Norris.”

He grins, watching you walk out of the kitchen. And when he turns back to the sink, he’s still smiling—because for the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly where it’s meant to be.

—

Australia. Testing Day.

The paddock is humming like a heartbeat—fast, sharp, electric. You walk toward the garage with your headset in hand, credentials swinging around your neck, papaya polo fitted perfectly like it’s been yours all along. People glance as you pass, some with confusion, others with curiosity. You hear your name once or twice in passing—low whispers, half-question, half-gossip. You ignore all of it.

Because you’re not here to be liked. You’re here to run a car. McLaren’s garage is already alive when you step in. The smell of oil and tire rubber hits you first, followed by the warm buzz of quiet chaos. Engineers, mechanics, data analysts—moving like they’re part of a living machine.

Lando’s sitting in the car, helmet off, half-zipped race suit and that usual lazy grin stretched across his face.

“Morning, boss,” he says into the radio, teasing.

You settle into your seat on the pit wall like you’ve done it a thousand times. Calm. Focused. Headset on.

“Morning, Norris,” you reply coolly. “Try not to crash. I just got here.”

A soft laugh crackles through the comms. “No promises.”

Zak appears behind you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “This is it,” he says, smiling. “Let’s show them why you’re here.”

You nod once and focus on the screen in front of you. Live telemetry scrolls across the monitor. Tire temps. Fuel load. Weather variance. You track it all with sharp, trained eyes.

Your voice is calm when it hits the radio. “Okay Lando, we’re doing a 12 lap run, softs, with gradual pace increase. I want full feedback on braking stability by lap 4. Let’s go.”

“Copy that,” he replies, voice lighter than it probably should be. “Lead the way, genius.”

And then the garage clears as the engine roars to life. He pulls out of the pit lane. The screens flicker to life, and the data begins to pour in. Sector times. Tire degradation. Wind resistance. The other engineers glance over at you—quietly impressed. By lap 5, you’re already adjusting the run.

“Box at the end of 8. Temps are creeping up faster than expected. Want to save the compound.”

“Copy,” Lando says immediately, without question.

By lap 9, he’s back in the garage. You’re waiting with a bottle of water and a raised brow.

“You’re .03 seconds off your previous best in Turn 11,” you say, casually handing it over. “What are you doing in there, admiring the desert?”

Lando takes the bottle, grinning. “Maybe I just like hearing you call me out.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of a smile. The truth is—you’re in your element. The voices in the paddock might still whisper. The media might still doubt.

But on that pit wall, with your headset on and Lando behind the wheel, you’re exactly where you belong. Every call you make is sharp, every number you read makes sense, and the car? The car is singing. And by the end of the day? McLaren tops the timing sheets. Because this time, it’s not just about the car or the driver. It’s about you—and him—and the strategy that only the two of you can build together.

—

The garage is humming with the kind of energy only a race day can bring — tightly wound nerves, soft radio checks, the heavy scent of tire compound, and pure adrenaline wrapped in papaya orange. This time, it’s louder. Bigger. More intense. Because this is your first race. Your race. On the wall. Running the strategy. With the whole world watching. And they’re not just watching Lando. They’re watching you.

You barely hear the murmurs from the media pens—Let them talk. You’re too busy building a strategy that’ll make them eat every last word.

In the garage, Max and Pietra are chaos in human form.

Max is pacing in his McLaren cap like he’s the one driving, and Pietra is waving around a mini flag like it’s actually helping anything.

“Can she even breathe up there?” Pietra asks, looking up at the pit wall nervously.

“I don’t think she is breathing,” Max replies. “She’s calculating.”

Five minutes to lights out. You clip your headset on. Your screen shows Lando’s live data feed. Heart rate slightly elevated, but steady. Tire temps in ideal range. Track temp rising faster than expected.

“Alright, Norris,” you say into the mic, voice cool and even. “We’re sticking to Plan A. Clean start, protect the tires. You hold position in Turn 1 and don’t get spicy until after Lap 10. Copy?”

Lando’s voice crackles through the radio, playful even under pressure.

“Copy, boss. I’ll behave. Ish.”

The lights go out. And so does the paddock. Lando has a flying start.

Shoots past Leclerc like it’s personal, glues himself to P2 before Lap 2, and settles into a comfortable rhythm. You monitor everything. Grip levels. Crosswinds in Sector 2. Fuel consumption. Brake temps. Max is screaming into Pietra’s shoulder behind you. Pietra’s crying by Lap 5. “HE’S DRIVING SO WELL.”

You smile despite yourself. By Lap 17, you see it.

The Ferraris are chewing through their tires. The Red Bulls are too conservative on power. You run the numbers twice. Then a third time. You flick on the radio.

“Box this lap. Undercut window is open.”

Lando doesn’t question you. “Copy. Let’s do it.”

He dives in. The stop is flawless. 2.3 seconds. And when the others finally pit? He comes out in the lead. P1. The garage explodes.

Max is on his feet, yelling something incoherent about “NEVER DOUBTED HER FOR A SECOND.”

Pietra is crying again, but this time she had acquired a hat to cover her face. You stay calm. Mostly.

“Alright,” you say over the radio. “Lead car. Twenty four laps to go. Clear track ahead. I want clean air and zero drama. Think you can manage that, Norris?”

Lando’s voice is steady, but there’s a grin buried in it.

“For you? Anything.”

The last 10 laps are torture. DRS threats. Virtual safety car. A rogue yellow flag that nearly throws everything. Your hands are shaking, but your voice is steady. Every call is precise.

“Brake bias forward by 2 clicks.”

“Harvest more in Sector 3.”

“Hold them off. This is your race.”

And Lando? He drives like he’s on rails. Like every word you say is gospel. Lap 58. Final sector. You stand, fingers white around your headset, eyes locked on the monitor.

Lando crosses the line—

P1.

The radio crackles—

“WE DID IT!” he screams. “YN! WE FUCKING DID IT!*”

Your heart explodes in your chest. You cover your mouth with one hand, tears burning in your eyes before you even realize they’re there.

You press the button, voice breaking just slightly.

“You were perfect, Lando. That was all you.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“No. That was us.”

The garage is mayhem. Mechanics hugging. Pit crew chanting your name. Zak running in from somewhere with champagne already in hand.

Max is sobbing into Pietra’s shoulder. “I KNEW SHE WAS A GENIUS. I KNEW IT.”

Pietra’s recording you with tears in her eyes and yelling, “YOU JUST BEAT HALF THE GRID WITH YOUR BRAIN.”

You take your headset off slowly, still stunned. And then you feel arms around you. Lando’s. He’s still in his fireproofs, sweat-soaked and grinning like he’s never smiled before. He doesn’t care who’s watching. He lifts you slightly off the ground as he hugs you.

“You were magic,” he whispers. “You made that happen.”

You pull back just slightly, your forehead resting against his. “And you made it look beautiful.”

He doesn’t dare to make a move. But his hands linger at your waist. His smile is soft. His eyes are only on you. And in that moment—surrounded by champagne, chaos, and the disbelief of everyone who ever doubted you—you know—This is only the beginning.

—

yn_fewtrell

liked by lando, maxfewtrell, pietra.pilao and 4,708,003 others.

yn_fewtrell : aus was fun, onto the next (p)one🫶🏻

tagged : pietra.pilao, maxfewtrell and lando

—

view 192,005 other comments.

lando : stole my french fries and my car, huh?

liked by yn_fewtrell

↳ yn_fewtrell : that is the price you pay when I lead you to a race win😁

liked by maxfewtrell and lando

↳ username00 : bitch one won race and made it her whole personality already. can’t wait to watch her fail.

mclaren : engineering excellence powered by french fries and gyros🧡

liked by yn_fewtrell

oscarpiastri : leave lando and be my engineer. i will give you all the french fries you want

liked by yn_fewtrell and lando

↳ lando : not happening oscarino. she is staying with me 🤭

username10 : how are you THIS smart, THIS cool, and still relatable

liked by yn_fewtrell

username000 : There are people with decades of experience who deserved that role. But sure, let the influencer do strategy.

username11 : If she really cared about the job, she wouldn’t be flirting with her driver. Unprofessional af.

username50 : She’s more concerned about photo dumps and outfits than race data. No wonder people think women don’t belong here.

username33 : Funny how she was handed this position and still makes it all about herself. Typical influencer behavior.

zbrownceo : Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it.

liked by yn_fewtrell and lando

—

It’s been eight weeks since Australia. Five races. Two wins. Three podiums. Zero strategy errors. One woman behind the radio. And somehow — none of it is enough.

You’re walking through the paddock before FP2, headset looped around your neck, data tablet pressed to your chest like armor. The McLaren polo clings to your skin in the heat, but you don’t notice. You’ve been sweating for hours, and not because of the sun. Every few steps, your name follows you like a curse. Not in congratulations. Not in respect. Just low, biting whispers.

“She only sounds smart on paper.”

“She’s riding Lando’s success like it’s hers.”

You walk faster. You don’t let it show — but God, it’s wearing you down. Quietly. Brutally. You haven’t opened Twitter in weeks. You scroll past Instagram comments like they’re burning. You stopped reading your tagged posts the day someone told you to “go back to fashion school” and said your first win was “handed to her.”

It’s not the media. Not even the sexist podcasters with cropped beards and buzzwords. It’s everyone else. The silence from your colleagues when your name is mentioned. The sideways looks from rival teams when McLaren beats them on strategy. The fans who scream for Lando and ignore you completely — or worse, call you a distraction. And still, you show up. Every day. Every race. Every session. You make the calls. You hit the targets. You win. But today? Today feels thin. Like the ground beneath your feet is giving way just a little.

You take a long breath as you pass the Sky Sports camera crew, nod politely, hoping to keep walking — until one of them turns just slightly and says it loud enough for you to hear—

“There goes Norris’ lucky charm.”

You stop. It’s not just the words — it’s the tone. Patronizing. Dismissive. Cruel in its casualness.

“Smart of McLaren to hire someone for optics. Keeps the headlines clean while he does the real work.”

Something cracks. Quietly. Deep in your chest. You turn your head — slowly, expression unreadable — and meet the reporter’s eyes.

“I suggest you rethink who’s doing the real work,” you say coolly, though your throat is tight. “I’m the one keeping his car in the points.”

Before he can respond, before he can smirk or backtrack or say something worse— A voice cuts in. Sharp. Dangerous. Familiar.

“Is there a problem here?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is. You feel him before you see him. Lando. Still in his fireproofs, still flushed from the car, eyes hard and jaw tight.

The reporter chuckles, uncomfortable now. “Nothing at all. Just—complimenting your engineer.”

“Really? ‘Lucky charm’ doesn’t sound like a compliment to me. You are patronizing her.”

Lando steps between you and the reporter without hesitation, his voice low and lethal.

“You don’t get to belittle her work because it makes you uncomfortable. You don’t get to reduce her to some narrative you can sell. She’s the reason I’m winning. She makes the calls. She reads the race like it’s written in a language only she speaks. And if you can’t handle that—maybe you should just get the fuck out.”

The silence is deafening. The reporter stammers something, but Lando doesn’t wait to hear it. He turns to you gently, expression shifting — still sharp, but soft in a way he reserves only for you.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

You want to say yes. Want to tell him you’re fine. That it doesn’t matter. But your hands are trembling. And you’re so, so tired. He notices. Of course he does. Lando doesn’t say anything more — just steps closer, hand resting briefly on your back, shielding you as he leads you away. Out of the cameras. Out of the noise.

And even as your eyes sting, even as your chest aches with the weight of it all — there’s something steady about the way he walks beside you. Like a lifeline. Like a promise. You don’t say it yet. But you know. He’s in your corner. And when you can’t fight for yourself — Lando will.

—

It starts with the silences. Not the good kind—the ones you used to share in the garage after a long session, exhausted but grinning. Not the quiet that existed between looks and smirks and inside jokes that didn’t need explaining.

This silence is different. Colder. Heavier. Lando notices it first in the little things. The way you leave the debrief as soon as it ends. How you sit at the other end of the table during meals. How your messages have gone from memes and chaos to nothing but numbers and fuel loads. Professionally, you’re sharper than ever. Flawless. But the rest of you?

You’re fading.

He sees it. He’s been seeing it. And it’s not until the night before the Spanish GP, when you skip the post dinner team drinks without a word, that he makes a decision. He doesn’t text. Doesn’t knock and wait. He uses the keycard Zak made everyone take for security reasons, pushes into your suite quietly, and hears it immediately—

Not music. Not the TV. Just the soft rustle of curtains and the distant sound of you trying to breathe quietly. He finds you on the balcony.

Sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest, forehead pressed against your arms. Shoulders shaking. The city lights stretching below you while the tears you’ve been holding back for weeks finally pour down your face. You don’t hear him at first.

Until the sliding door opens behind you and a soft voice says, “Hey.”

You flinch. “Lando—shit. I—I didn’t know you—”

You wipe your face furiously, still refusing to look at him.

“You should go,” you say quickly. “I’m fine. Just needed air—”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, stepping onto the balcony. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You try to joke. Deflect. “You’re not exactly dressed for an emotional breakdown—”

He sits beside you anyway. Cross legged, close enough for his shoulder to brush yours. Warm and present and so painfully there.

There’s a long silence. And then, softly—

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do, Lando.”

Your voice cracks. Finally.

“I do everything right. Every call. Every number. Every strategy. We’re winning, and I’m still losing.”

He doesn’t say anything—just waits.

“They’re never going to see me as more than your little sidekick,” you whisper. “Or Max’s sister. Or the girl who ruined the sport. And I’m so tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

Your hands are trembling in your lap. He watches you struggle for air, for composure, for the strength you’ve worn like armor for months.

“I feel like I’m screaming into a void and smiling while I do it,” you admit. “Because if I stop being the girl who can handle it, then they win, right?”

Lando doesn’t speak for a moment. Then—

“I don’t want you to be the girl who can handle it,” he says quietly. “I want you to be the girl who’s allowed to feel it. Who’s allowed to break down on balconies. Who doesn’t have to carry it all alone.”

You look at him. Finally. And what you see isn’t pity. It’s rage. And hurt. And love—undeniably, plainly, terrifyingly there.

“Do you have any idea how much I admire you?” he asks. “Not just for what you do. But for how you survive in a world that tries so hard to push you out.”

Your eyes fill again.

“But I hate watching you shrink. I hate watching you pretend like the comments don’t get to you when I know they do.”

“I can’t let it show,” you murmur.

“You can,” he says. “With me, you can.”

He takes your hand. It’s not romantic. Not yet. It’s grounding.

“I need you to know something,” he continues, voice low and sure. “None of this—none of what we’ve built this season—works without you. Not the wins. Not the podiums. Not me.”

You press your lips together, fighting another wave of tears.

“But I need you to work too,” he says. “Not just the engineer. You. The person. And she deserves rest. And softness. And someone to sit with her on a balcony when she forgets how incredible she is.”

Your heart aches at how gently he says it. Like you’re made of glass. Like you’re allowed to fall apart.

“I don’t know how to let go,” you whisper. “I’ve been holding it all for so long.”

He squeezes your hand, his voice breaking just slightly. “Then let me help. Please.”

And you do. You let your head fall to his shoulder. You let the tears fall without apology. You let someone see you—not just as the brilliant, capable, unshakeable engineer they all expect—but as a person who’s tired and hurting and desperately in need of grace.

And Lando? He doesn’t move. He stays beside you until the sun starts to rise. And when you finally speak again, voice hoarse but steadier than before, you say—

“I don’t want to do this without you.”

And he replies, without missing a beat.

“You won’t have to.”

—

Race Day. Mid season. High pressure. Everything on the line. The garage is tight with tension. Dry air. Sharp voices. You can feel it pulsing through your headset like a storm trying to form. Lando’s in P3. The strategy is clean. You’ve run every scenario.

“Stick to Plan B,” you remind him calmly.

“We wait. The softs will come back to us. Hold position, and we pounce after lap 38.”

“Copy,” he says. But you can hear it — the edge in his voice. The hunger. The itch. Lando wants more. Too soon. You hear the switch in his tone by Lap 30. He’s pushing harder. Ignoring lift points. Going aggressive on the straights. And then—he says it.

“Box now. I’m undercutting.”

You sit bolt upright. “No. Lando—no. Tires aren’t ready. The window’s not open yet—”

Too late. He dives in. Pit crew scrambles. The stop is clean. But the re-entry isn’t. Traffic. Cold tires. He rejoins behind a cluster of midfield chaos. Loses time. Loses grip. Loses everything. You stand frozen, eyes on the screen as he drops from P3 to P9 in four laps. The garage is silent.

Your hands are clenched. You barely hear the commentary echoing from the monitors.

“That’s a brutal call from McLaren. Early stop puts Norris behind heavy traffic… was that a misread from the pit wall?”

Your headset is still on when the post-race headlines start posting in real time.

“MCLAREN STRATEGY ERROR COSTS NORRIS BIG FINISH.”

“YN FEWTRELL UNDER FIRE AGAIN AFTER RISKY CALL.”

“Norris’ engineer strikes out — questions rise around her future.”

You don’t even feel your legs as you pull off your headset. Don’t feel Zak’s hand on your shoulder. Don’t hear the apology Lando doesn’t say. You just walk out of the garage.

—

His hotel room. Just the two of you.

“I told you not to pit,” you say quietly, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to shake.

Lando looks at you like you’re the one who ruined it.

“I felt the grip dropping—”

“You disobeyed strategy. You disobeyed me.”

Your voice breaks, brittle and sharp. “And they’re blaming me for it.”

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t!” You snap. “I have spent every race protecting you. Protecting this team. Taking the hits so you don’t have to, and you go rogue the second it doesn’t feel perfect?”

“I’m the one in the car!” he fires back. “It’s my instinct—”

“It’s your ego, Lando.”

Silence. The kind that cuts. You look at him, really look at him — and it hits you. Hard. Too hard. You love him. You love him, and it’s eating you alive. And maybe the worst part? He doesn’t even see it. Not through the anger. Not through the noise. You turn toward the door, needing air. Needing anything.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I thought I could balance it all — the job, the team, you. But I’m drowning.”

Lando takes a step forward. “YN…”

You shake your head, eyes burning. “I need space.”

And this time, you mean it.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,570,110 likes.

f1gossipgirls : YN Fewtrell in talks with Red Bull??! Lando’s race engineer was seen meeting with Christian Horner this afternoon. She has faced a lot of criticism and backlash working with Mclaren. Will she stay with them?

—

The room is silent, save for the faint ticking of a sleek analog clock and the soft shuffle of pages as Christian Horner flips through your printed track performance portfolio like he’s browsing specs on a new wind tunnel component. He hasn’t said much in the last few minutes. Just let the numbers speak for themselves. You see your call sheets. Tire offset modeling. Degradation analysis. Win probabilities. All the things that made people outside the team mock you — and made people inside the paddock terrified of you.

“This,” Christian finally says, tapping a finger against your Australian GP strategy sheet, “was the best pit call I’ve seen in three years. And I’ve worked with Hannah for over a decade.”

You blink, caught off guard.

He smiles. “We see what you’re doing, YN. Some people only see Lando’s wins. I see who’s putting him in the position to take them.”

Your stomach turns slightly. You should feel proud. Grateful. Validated. But instead, it just makes your chest ache.

He leans back in the chair, lacing his fingers. “If you come here, you’ll be given autonomy. No headlines. No internal politics. No fighting for respect. Just results. And trust.”

You nod, slowly, unsure what to say. His voice is steady. His words, deliberate. Everything you thought you wanted—finally offered. And yet, there’s a pit in your stomach that only gets heavier.

The folder with your name on it sits in front of you, untouched. Contract terms. Role title—Head of Race Strategy.

It would be a promotion. A salary jump. A career-defining move.

But all you can think about is a voice in your headset saying “we did it.”

A hand brushing your back on the podium. A boy with a crooked smile and a voice that only ever softened for you.

—

Lando is exhausted. He hasn’t slept properly since the race. Since the fight. Since you walked out of his hotel room without a backward glance and took all the air with you.

He’s meant to be reviewing simulator data with the McLaren techs, but his head isn’t there. It hasn’t been for weeks. It’s back in that garage. That balcony. That hotel room. He runs a hand through his curls and turns a corner—And nearly bumps into Max Verstappen.

“Jesus—sorry, mate,” Lando mutters, distracted, already half past him.

Max doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hey,” he says, glancing down, “You might wanna keep your eyes up today.”

Lando blinks. “What?”

Max gives him a dry, amused look. The kind that says I know something you don’t.

“Just thought I’d let you know,” Max says, casually taking a sip of his drink. “Horner’s in a meeting right now with your engineer. Could be the last time you call her yours.”

Lando’s whole body stills.

“What?”

Max shrugs. “I mean… she’s good. We all know it. Wouldn’t blame her for jumping ship. You guys made it easy, yeah?”

Lando opens his mouth, but Max is already walking past him, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

“She looked serious, by the way. Folder and everything.”

Lando’s pulse spikes. He doesn’t ask where. Doesn’t call Zak. Doesn’t wait for security or clearance or logic. He just runs.

Through the Red Bull corridors. Past the press room. Past engineers and assistants who do double takes as he flies by in his team hoodie, looking like he’s chasing something he should’ve protected weeks ago. And he is. Because this time, he might be too late.

—

The contract still sits unopened in front of you. You don’t know what you’re waiting for. Christian is mid-sentence again — something about finalizing negotiations after the summer break — when the door slams open so hard the glass rattles. You jolt in your seat. So does Horner. And then you hear it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You look up and your heart stops. Lando. Flushed. Breathless. Hair a mess. McLaren hoodie halfway unzipped, curls damp with sweat. His eyes are locked on you, not even acknowledging Christian.

You push your chair back, stunned. “Lando—”

He doesn’t wait. He walks straight across the room, past the Red Bull logo, past the executive folders, straight to you.

“Come with me,” he says, voice rough. “Now.”

You hesitate for half a second, glancing at Christian. Christian sighs, clearly already over the dramatics. “Take your time.”

You follow Lando into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind you. The second it closes, he rounds on you.

“Why?” he says, voice sharp with confusion and something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Why would you do this? Why would you just leave?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Was I that awful to you?” he continues. “After everything—after what we’ve built—do I really make it that easy to walk away?”

“Lando, it’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it’s like.”

His voice cracks on the last word. He’s begging now. And you can’t hold it in anymore. Your chest aches. Your eyes sting. Your hands are trembling.

You swallow hard. “Because I’m in love with you.”

He blinks.

You keep going. “Because I’ve been in love with you and pretending not to be for months. Because the second anyone even suspects we’re close, the hate triples. Because every race I sit beside you and make calls that win championships and people still say it’s all because I want your attention.”

Your voice is shaking now.

“And if I stay—and if this gets out—I know what they’ll say. That I seduced my way into the headset. That I only win because you let me. And I can’t—I can’t survive that, Lando.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Until he speaks. Softly. Carefully. Completely undone.

“You think I care about any of that?”

You shake your head, eyes blurring. “You should.”

“I don’t,” he says, stepping closer. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I’ve been waiting for you to see it.”

You stop breathing.

“I have let people talk. I’ve watched them rip you apart online, in meetings, in commentary boxes. And you just kept showing up. Not for the glory. Not even for the team. For me. Because you believed in me.”

He’s in front of you now, so close your hands could just—reach.

“So if you’re scared, I’ll take the heat. If they want to come after us, let them. But don’t run away from what we’ve built just because they can’t handle a woman being better than all of them.”

You blink hard, the tears finally falling.

“I wasn’t trying to run from you,” you whisper.

He reaches for your hand.

“Then stay. Not for McLaren. Not for the team. For me. Stay and let me love you out loud.”

You don’t say anything. You just fall into him. And this time, when he catches you — he doesn’t let go.

—

f1gossipgirls

4,100,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Well, McLaren is making it very clear that their engineering goddess will not be making the move to Red Bull. 😌

Last night’s Women in Motorsport event, hosted by YN Fewtrell herself, was equal parts groundbreaking, glamorous, and papaya coded power move. McLaren not only doubled down on their support of their youngest ever lead race engineer—they literally built an entire collection around her. Yes, you read that right.

The new McLaren x YN capsule drop—which happens to be co designed by YN, Lando Norris, and Oscar Piastri—blends garage grit with streetwear genius.

Oh, and Zak Brown? Sources say he stood off stage during the launch with the expression of a proud dad. One thing’s for sure—McLaren isn’t just protecting YN—they’re elevating her. With the performance she’s delivered this season and the cultural pull she’s building off track, any team who thought they could poach her might want to rethink.

—

time skip- end of season

Race 24. Sunset. Victory. The pit wall erupts. Headsets fly. Crew leap from their chairs. Someone screams. Someone sobs. Champagne is already spraying even though it hasn’t even been five minutes since the checkered flag waved and everything changed. McLaren are Constructors’ Champions. Lando Norris is a World Champion. And you? You’re frozen. Still seated, staring at the final sector times like they might dissolve if you look away.

It’s done. You did it. You were the voice in his ear all season. Through every win, every late brake, every risky undercut. You built the strategies. You held your nerve. You called the shot that sealed the title. And suddenly—arms are around you.

Oscar’s the first to tackle you, practically dragging you out of your seat. “YOU DID IT! WITH THAT BIG BRAIN,” he yells, voice cracking as he yanks off your headset.

Then Zak’s pulling you into a bear hug, shouting, “You genius, you absolute weapon—you just made history!”

And then there’s chaos. Cameras. Journalists. Engineers hugging. Lando doing donuts on track with the British flag trailing out of his halo. Mechanics crying. Oscar waving his P3 trophy like it’s a lightsaber.

And somewhere in the madness, someone shouts—

“WHERE’S Y/N?! GET HER TO THE PODIUM!”

You’re still breathless when they drag you through the garage. Your McLaren polo is soaked in champagne before you even reach parc fermé. You trip over a cable. Someone shoves a bottle in your hand. You’re laughing and crying and blinking back tears as fans chant your name from the grandstands.

“FEEEEW-TRELL! FEEEEW-TRELL!”

And then you see him. Helmet off. Eyes wild. Hair flattened with sweat. Lando stands on the car, arms in the air, tears streaming down his cheeks as the team swarms around him. But the moment his eyes land on you, it’s like the world narrows. He jumps off the car and runs. Straight into you.

The impact nearly knocks the wind out of you, but you wrap your arms around him as he lifts you off the ground and spins you, screaming nonsense into your neck. He’s shaking. You’re crying. And neither of you care who’s watching.

“You did it,” you whisper.

“No,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “We did it. You got me here. You held me together. This championship has your name all over it.”

You want to say something witty. Something cool. But the only thing that escapes is a broken, soft.

“I love you.”

His whole face crumples. Like he’s been holding that in too.

“God, I love you too.”

And he kisses you. Right there. In front of the cameras. In front of the grid. In front of the entire fucking world. And instead of boos, instead of backlash, there’s only cheering. Because finally — finally — no one can deny you. You’re not a PR stunt. You’re not just Max Fewtrell’s sister. You’re not Lando Norris’ distraction.

You’re the architect of this championship. And tonight, the world knows it.

You stay on the podium stage for the celebration, champagne in your eyes, Lando’s hand in yours. Oscar flings his trophy in the air. Zak is pretending he isn’t crying. The team is lifting mechanics onto their shoulders. Pit crew are dancing. Someone starts singing “Sweet Caroline” off-key.

And you? You look around at the chaos, the joy, the sheer disbelief that you finally made it here. And for the first time all season— You feel loved. Not just for what you do. But for who you are.

—

lando

liked by yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri and 11,010,290 others.

lando : FUCK ALL YOU BITCHES THAT DOUBTED MY PRETTY BIG BRAINED GIRLFRIEND. SHE SHOWED YOU AND WON ME A CHAMPIONSHIP

tagged : yn_fewtrell

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dissociativewriter · 2 days ago

Note

Congratulations on 400 followers! 🎊🍾🥂

If your inbox is still open, may I request an isekai’ed!reader who has had previous medical training and decided to work at Akso Hospital once she got licensed, tries to play matchmaker with Zayne and the MC but is totally clueless that the cardiac surgeon likes the reader?

thank you, honey! I absolutely love this idea! I am very very vague with the actual medical stuff because that is not my field of expertise, but I still think it's cute! i do feel like its a little short and bare though, i might make this into a long fic later if i have the time and inspiration lol

1634 words (not proofread)

request event

Getting isekai’d wasn’t that interesting.

In fact, it was pretty unceremonious. Like you were a kitten picked up from the dumpster by the scruff of your neck only to be tossed into a run down shelter.

It seems getting isekai’d into a romance game is only interesting if you’re the Main Character.

How were you supposed to survive here, anyways?

First things first, you needed a job. You scoured through employment ads, looking for anything you could do. Jobs for scientists, maintenance engineers, elementary teachers. All things you weren’t exactly fit to do.

What were you fit to do?

One thing came to mind: your medical training.

How hard could it be to get licensed in Linkon?

2 years and a registered nurse’s license later, and you were getting a job at Akso Hospital.

It was scary, you thought as you donned your scrubs. None of the friends you’d made at school had gotten jobs at Akso. You were completely alone, starting out on your own again.

You got to the hospital early your first day. Maybe it was jitters, maybe you were eager. Walking to the front desk, you handed the receptionist your file.

She smiled at you. “Welcome to Akso! Looks like you’ll be working under Doctor Zayne. I’ll send you over, and Yvonne should fill you in from there!”

With a curt nod, you swiftly made your way through Akso. It was bright, clean, efficient, so unlike the hospitals back home. It truly felt like a hospital of the future, but then, you supposed, it was.

You didn’t know when you had become desensitized to all the changes you found in Linkon from your original world, things beginning to seem like the norm rather than a shocking show of progress, but there were still some things that stood out to you.

The elevator in Akso had a windowed side, giving you a view over the rest of Linkon. You stared out at the city, the realization that this really was your life now setting in. Throughout your education, you’d lived each day with the assumption that tomorrow you could be back in your world.

But now two years had passed, and you were a nurse at Akso Hospital.

This was your life now.

Getting off on the sixth floor, you took a deep breath. The hallway was bustling with family members outside rooms and patients being transferred. You walked to the main desk, immediately greeted with a smile.

“Hi! You must be the new recruit,” Yvonne said. “As I’m sure you already know, you’ve been assigned to Doctor Zayne. There’s nothing to worry about, he’s really sweet if you get to know him.”

You nodded. “And… how old is Doctor Zayne?”

Yvonne gave you a knowing smile. “He’s 27. But, if you’re interested in him, I wouldn’t try anything. Zayne’s oblivious when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing am I oblivious to?” Zayne interrupted.

“Oh, nothing!” Yvonne waved a hand in dismissal. “Zayne, this is our newest addition to the team!”

Zayne gave you a once-over. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. So long as you are competent, we shouldn’t have any issues,” he said swiftly.

As he turned to leave, Yvonne called out, “Remember, you have a check-up with a Hunter in a half an hour!”

Zayne merely hummed in acknowledgment before disappearing into his office.

“He’s not the best with socializing, but he means well,” Yvonne whispered to you. “Anyways, to get you started off today, I think I’ll just have you taking care of patients before their appointments with Zayne or Greyson. You know, taking vitals, things like that.” She smiled. “I don’t want you to be too overwhelmed on your first day.”

You gave her a soft smile in return. “I think I’ll be alright.”

With your first patient, the shift was immediate. What had been all quiet smiles and curt nods was now methodical, efficient, practiced. You didn’t flinch when Zayne would occasionally watch over your shoulder when he was between patients. It’s your first day, you figured. He’s probably just making sure things are going smoothly.

When you were between patients, you welcomed the reprieve. You allowed your mind to wander, figuring that if Zayne was just 27 now, it must be around the beginning of the story in Love and Deepspace. It’d been two years, though, and your memory was fuzzy. How long was it until things started to go badly for Miss Hunter?

You’d seen her, briefly, that morning. You’d taken her vitals as you both waited for Zayne and made polite small talk in the meantime. She explained how she knew Zayne from their childhood, but it’d been years since they’d seen each other. You nodded along, letting her talk and laugh and be the dazzling woman she was.

You excused yourself quietly when Zayne came in, not feeling his eyes on you as you left.

You fell into a routine as the weeks turned to months at Akso. You’d still feel Zayne’s gaze on you as you took care of patients, but you still thought nothing of it. He was an attentive man, after all.

You would take your lunch breaks with him, if they ever matched up. There was never a lot of conversation in those moments, just a quiet understanding of company. He’d always give you a mint before he left, a carefully wrapped treat pressed into the palm of your hand.

You started leaving him the occasional candy, too, a simple chocolate left on his desk when he’d have double shifts. You and Zayne had reached an understanding over time, it seemed, a simple connection resembling friendship.

Miss Hunter came by regularly, either for a check up or to get patched up after an injury. If it was the latter, she always got a subtle scolding from Zayne, which always ended in him emphasizing (again) that he was her Primary Care Physician.

You always laughed when you saw them together. The soft teasing was adorable, and you found yourself eagerly waiting for them to finally get together. They were so obviously in love with each other, so what’s the wait? There was no way anyone could miss the way Zayne looks at the one he loves.

“Good job today.”

“Hm?” You looked up from your report.

Zayne cleared his throat. “That patient earlier… it was difficult. You did a good job.”

Your face got slightly warm. Praise from Zayne was few and far between. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He looked away. Zayne lingered, drumming his fingers on the desk.

“Is there anything else?” you asked.

“No… no, I guess not,” he said, ears flushing red as he looked away.

“I saw Miss Hunter is supposed to come by later today,” you said sheepishly. “She’s very nice.”

Zayne nodded. “Yes, she is.”

“Are you… interested in her?”

Zayne stared at you blankly. “Interested?”

“Well, you know…” You trailed off. “She’s pretty, confident, smart. You two are so comfortable with each other. Are you going to ask her out?”

“On a date?” he sputtered.

“Yeah! If you like her, you should do it soon. A girl like that isn’t going to wait for you.”

Zayne watched you carefully, lips quirking up at the ends ever so slightly. “I guess you’re right.”

The next morning, Zayne’s jaw was tight. He was quiet, even quieter than usual.

You and Greyson were gathered around Yvonne’s desk, wondering just what put him in a bad mood.

“Do you think something happened?” Yvonne asked.

“Maybe he just didn’t get enough sleep,” Greyson offered. “He’s been working a lot lately.”

“I hope everything’s alright…” you muttered.

The conversation stilled when Zayne appeared behind you. “Could I have a word?” he asked you.

“Of course…”

“Good luck,” Greyson whispered.

“It’s probably fine,” Yvonne assured you.

Taking your hand, Zayne led you out to the gardens in Akso’s courtyard. Sitting down on a bench, his grip remained tight. His chest rose and fell with shuddered breaths, like he was desperately trying to hold himself back.

“Are you alright?” you whispered.

Zayne’s gaze snapped to yours, wide-eyed. “Yes, I’m sorry.” A strained laugh. “I suppose I’m a bit nervous. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Of course, what’s up?” You tilted your head.

“Yesterday, what you said…” Zayne took a deep breath, moving to fully face you with both your hands in his. “You said I shouldn’t leave the person I like to simply wait. Well, I’m not letting them wait anymore.”

Your eyes lit up. “Does this mean you’re going to ask Miss Hunter out soon?”

Zayne’s shoulder’s sagged, as if he were deflating at your comment. “No. No, I’m trying to ask you out. Not her. I’m not interested in her, and besides I think she’s already with someone. It’s you I want to ask.”

You stared at him. “…me?” you asked in a small voice. Zayne nodded. “But why?”

“You’re smart, talented, kind, funny, I can’t think of a reason not to.” Zayne chuckled. “And here I thought I was obvious, liking you for all this time.”

“All this time?” you exclaimed. “How long is all this time?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” Zayne said softly. “I suppose it was a gradual thing. Spending all that time around you, enjoying your warmth… you made me forget I was cold.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“So, if you’d let me, I’d like to do this right,” he murmured. “I want to take you out on dates, take care of you, have you to come home to.” He scooted closer, knee knocking against yours. “Will you let me?”

“I’d love to.” You smiled.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “After living in your sunlight for so long, I don’t think I could go without it.”

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

taglist: @dolledbunnytail @sleepykittyenergy @orbitraiden @coffeedragonhobbyist @plzdonutpercieveme

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purplecoffee13 · 11 hours ago

Text

NFWMB - PART SEVEN*

Summary: “When Y/N confesses she needs Harry’s toolbox, he comes rushing to give it to her…” (I’m sorry this summary is so fucking stupid lmfao😭)

Wc: 5.2k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment/assault, bit of angst, SMUT, praise kink, sub/dom dynamics, teehee🤭

A/N: helloooo as promised, here is a new chapter of NFWMB in celebration of me getting my bachelor’s degree (woo🥳)! Thank you for being patient with me💞 I love these two they are so cutiepatootie, so happy reading!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

Harry was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Ever since Y/N had told him she wanted him, he had been floating on a cloud of ecstasy.

Sure, his original intention was to do it all the old-fashioned traditional way. Take her out to dinner, take it slow, really court her. But when Y/N said she didn't like the pressure of dating, he knew he needed to act quick in order to not fully lose her. He'd do anything in any way she wanted, as long as he could get a chance to show her how much he wanted her.

Now, this was definitely not the traditional way, but Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. The sole idea of Y/N in that intimate capacity had the ability to send him to the edge. He needed to actively seek distractions in order not to think about it all day.

But when he wasn't thinking of Y/N's beauty or the agreement they made, his mind would float to that pathetic rat that had dared to make her feel unsafe. That had... touched her. He couldn't think about it too long either, not wanting to do anything rash and disrespecting Y/N's wish for him to let her handle the situation.

He just felt so angry and frustrated, and he wanted to her help her so bad, but he just didn't know how. Teaching her to defend herself was the help he was able to give for now, but he was hoping for her to let him in and let him offer her more emotional support as well.

All in good time, he thought.

For now, he was trying to focus on giving his client all of his attention while he was doing his exercises. He was a personal trainer for a select group of people who paid a significant amount to get the most detailed training, so the time-slots with these clients required his full focus.

"All right, good form Brady. That was the last one for today. I still see some restraints when you jump, which is coming from a lack of focus on hip exercises, so we're going to be incorporating those from Friday onward. Sound good?"

The sixty-five year old man smiled at Harry. He had come in here about four months earlier, wanting intensive personal training after five years of not working out because he had decided he was going to run a marathon by the end of the year. He'd later told Harry that his daughter was training for the marathon, and since they used to run together when she was little, he'd wanted to surprise her. Harry immediately signed himself on as Brady's personal trainer.

"I mean that's what I pay you for, right?" Brady joked, wiping off some sweat with the small towel around his neck. Harry huffed out a laugh, humming in agreement and handing Brady his water bottle. Suddenly, he heard a 'ping' sound coming from his pockets.

Turning on his phone, Harry frowned at seeing he had two message notifications from an unknown number.

Unknown

Heyy, I'm so sorry to bother you but I have kind of a weird question.

My bathroom cabinet door just kind of fell off its hinges and Sophie said you had a toolbox. And since I do not have one of my own, nor know how to fix this, I was wondering if maybe you had time to come over and help me somewhere later today?

This is Y/N, by the way. Sorry I should have started with that.

Harry hadn't realized how wide his smile was until Brady flicked him with his towel.

"What are you smirking at?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked at his client and noted the playful glint in his eyes. "I thought you were a bit different the last few sessions, now I know why."

Harry rolled his eyes, not really saying something. Brady sniffed a laugh and turned to gather his things.

"If she makes you smile like that then you better go for it." He said, and Harry was glad that Brady wasn't looking at him because he felt his cheeks turning a little red. "Because I did, and let me tell you... best decision of my life."

A wide smile spread on Harry's face as he listened to the advice of his client. He didn't even try to deny it, just took it with a smile and a nod. Brady only winked at him before walking off to the lockers. Harry immediately opened the chat with Y/N and put her into his contact list.

Harry

Hey

Of course, I'm free for the rest of the day, so just let me know when I can come by.

He quickly shut off his phone before he could overthink his text too much, and scurried off to his office to stress out in private. By the time he whipped his phone out again, he had a text from Y/N.

Y/N

Really? That'd be great, thank you!

I'm working from home today so you could swing by at like 4 if you want?

Fuck yeah, Harry thought.

Harry

Alright, see you in a bit.

With toolbox.

Y/N

Thanks! You're a life saver!

Harry beamed the whole way home. In his car, while he sought the toolbox, as he put the car in the toolbox. He just couldn't stop being giddy over the fact that Y/N had called him a life saver. It was kind of terrifying; how much an impact she had on his mood. Then again, he was too damn happy to worry about it.

It was only a fifteen minute drive from Harry's place to Y/N's. He wondered how it was possible that they'd only recently crossed paths. Maybe it was some kind of faith. Maybe they had come into each other's life at the exact right time.

Harry forced himself to stop pondering as he rang the downstairs doorbell. Taking a deep breath, he waited for Y/N to open the door. When the buzzer went off, Harry was quick to push the door open and hurry upstairs to her apartment.

Y/N was standing in the door opening, smiling as Harry walked up to her. She gave him a small wave, cracking a smile out of him too. She was just so adorable.

That was until his eyes traveled down to her legs, which were barely covered. She was only wearing tiny shorts and a large cardigan. And there was absolutely nothing adorable about those legs.

"Hey." She said when he was finally close enough. Her gaze dropped down to the toolbox in Harry's hand. It was a gift from his dad that he had gotten when he'd just moved out, but the box was huge. It did come in handy whenever something broke, though. Harry barely ever had to run to the store.

"I said bring a toolbox, not the entire hardware store." Y/N joked, stepping aside to let him in. Harry faked a gasp as he stepped into the apartment, his stomach swirling at the memory of the last time he was here.

"Are you making fun of my toolbox, Y/N?" He raised a playful brow, the insinuation floating between the two of them. Y/N stepped closer to Harry.

"I wouldn't dare to make fun of your toolbox." She replied cheekily. Harry's eyes slightly widened at her words. He had expected her to get a bit shy like she always did, but he was pleasantly surprised by her surge of confidence.

It took Harry a few seconds to regain himself, delaying his response. "So, where's the broken cabinet?"

Y/N pointed to a door on her right, and Harry immediately walked towards the bathroom. She was really looking too beautiful today but he needed to focus on fixing this cabinet before he could divide his entire attention to every inch of her skin, despite how badly he wanted to abandon everything and just spend the rest of his life in these four walls admiring her.

He went to work quickly, and Y/N brought him a glass of water while he began rummaging through the toolbox to find the right hinges and screwdrivers. Y/N sat leaned forward on the edge of her bathtub, head leaning on her hands as her stare burned a hole in his brain. He felt his ears turning red at the feeling of being watched by her, but he liked it too much to say anything about it.

"All done." Harry said after ten minutes, turning to see a gaping Y/N looking at the fixed cabinet door. She gasped as she got down to the floor and sat next to Harry, fascinated by the working door.

"Oh my god, you're so fast!" Y/N said with a wide smile as her fingers grazed over the new hinges. Just for good measure, she opened and closed the cabinet. Her gaze flicked over to Harry, the closeness between them suddenly very obvious.

"Thank you." She said softly. Her shy smile made the urge to kiss her almost too big to bear. Harry found himself automatically starting to lean in when Y/N suddenly pulled away and turned back with a glass of water in her hand.

"You didn't drink anything yet." She stated, her big eyes looking up at him. Y/N was back to being her skittish self, and for some reason, when she nervously bit her lip, Harry couldn't handle it anymore.

Leaping forward, he grabbed her face and put her lips on his. Slightly taken aback by the impact of the movement, Y/N let out a small noise, combining a yelp and a moan, but she immediately kissed him back. It was only because Harry felt something dripping from his elbow, that he leaned back from the phenomenal kiss.

Splattered all over Y/N's cardigan was the water that had once been in the glass she still holding. It must've tipped over when Harry launched toward her. She looked down and let out a small laugh.

"Oh, you made me all wet!" She giggled, trying to wipe over her cardigan as if it would help the situation. Harry groaned at Y/N's words, his cock suddenly straining way too much in his pants.

"Fucking hell..." he cursed under his breath, hoping it was subtle enough. Y/N heard it anyway, a frown on her face as she met the eyes of the pained man in front of her. Only when a few seconds had passed, she realized the double meaning of her sentence.

"Oh." was the only thing that came out of her mouth as she stared blankly at Harry. Slowly, he began to worry. Had he made her uncomfortable? He couldn't read her face expression.

He was about to ask if everything was okay, when Y/N's hands slowly floated to the button of her cardigan. Harry's eyes followed suit, and his heart rate began to pick up as she began to unbutton her cardigan.

Harry had to actively keep his mouth closed as he watched her take off the cardigan to reveal nothing but a yellow lace bra underneath it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to touch her in any way he could, but he waited. Either for a signal or to ask for her consent. Just because she was taking off her cardigan didn't mean he'd suddenly gained the right to touch her.

He'd do anything to earn it, though. He'd get on his damn knees to beg for it if he had to.

"Better to take it off, right?" She whispered, a bit uncertainty lacing her words. She was timid; it was the first time she'd really initiated something in this manner.

"Right." Harry whispered back, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. Y/N frowned a bit.

"I bought this yesterday, do you like it?" She ran her fingers over the lace of the bra. Harry's eyes lowered, and he took his time to observe every inch of her breasts and the lace that covered them. His cock was growing painfully hard, but he had to be patient.

"I love it. Fits you perfectly." He rasped. He glanced at Y/N, who swallowed at his words. When his gaze traveled back to her chest, he could see the quickened breaths she was taking.

"Does it make you want to touch me?"

Harry could've melted at the shy words that left Y/N's mouth. He took a deep breath, restraining himself.

"Y/N, everything about you makes me want to touch you." He said, his stomach fluttering as he saw a smile grow on her face. He smirked, leaning closer until his lips were mere inches away from hers. "Can I touch you, darling?"

"Please."

Harry needed nothing more to immediately go in for the kill. He planted hungry kisses on her chin and jaw, working his way down to her neck, Y/N ragged breathing and stifled moans only encouraging him more. His hands traveled up to her chest, cupping one of her breasts and softly squeezing it has he worked to leave bruises on her neck.

"I— Ah... I bought it for you." Y/N croaked out in between moans, her hands searching for any part of Harry's body to hold onto.

Harry groaned into her neck, the confession making him go crazy. Wrapping both his arms around Y/N waist, he pulled her into his lap, placing her right on his hardened cock.

"Yeah? Just for me?" He asked, looking up at her as his fingers trailed the bare skin on her back. Y/N hummed, unconsciously rolling her hips against him to get closer. "How'd you know yellow is my favorite color?"

Y/N sniffed a laugh, her cheeks turning red. "I didn't know it was."

"It is now." Harry said, diving his head in between her breast to leave kisses all over her chest. Y/N grabbed Harry's hair, slightly tugging on it as his mouth touched her all over.

"Harry, please..." She sighed, trying not to moan too loudly. He backed away, looking up at the panting girl in front of him.

"What is it darling? What d'you need?"

Y/N let out a huff. "You know what..."

"No I don't." Harry shrugged, shaking his head. "If you want something you gotta tell me. I always need to know you want it."

Y/N's face was puzzled, and possibly a bit taken aback by Harry's stern statement. He could see her trying to scramble the words in her brain. He knew it wouldn't be easy for a shy girl like her, but he hoped that learning to voice her needs would help her become more confident. In all aspects of her life.

"I... I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you." He took it a little further. Y/N groaned.

"I mean—" she dropped her shoulders. "I want you to touch me.... down there... if you want! Of course. I don't—"

Harry was quick to grab her face. "I want to do whatever you ask of me, don't worry about that. Just tell me what you want, you're doing good baby."

Y/N nodded, looking away as she scraped together some courage. She swallowed before locking eyes with Harry again.

"I want you to touch my pussy with your fingers... please." She said, her eyes wide as she waited for Harry's reaction.

Suddenly, Harry stood up. Y/N clung to him as he went to stand straight and planted her in front of the counter next to the sink. He could tell she was confused when he took a step away from her.

"Take off your shorts and your panties." Was all he said. Y/N did as she was told, quickly taking off her clothes and throwing them to the side. Harry admired her body as she stood there in front of him, waiting for his next move.

"Good girl." He said before grabbing her hips and turning her around to face the mirror in front of them. She was so tiny compared to him. It wasn't that she was extremely short, but his muscles made him way broader in comparison to her frame. But still it was perfect, she was perfect for him.

"See yourself, baby?" He said, lowering his head to plant a kiss in her neck while his arms snaked around her waist. He looked at her through the mirror, seeing her nod in agreement. "You look so perfect, don't you? Tell yourself you look perfect."

Y/N brows creased. "W— what?"

"Tell yourself you look perfect." Harry repeated matter-of-factly, stunning Y/N a bit. She opened her mouth but no sound came out; she was contemplating.

"I look... perfect?" She tilted her head slightly as she did what he asked, but Harry just scoffed.

"A little more conviction, please."

Y/N sighed, hesitantly biting her lip. "I look perfect."

Harry's fingers dug into the sides of her waist, and pulled her into him. In the way her eyes widened slightly, he figured she could feel the bulge that was hiding in his jeans.

"That's it, baby. Yeah you do." He encouraged her with a smile, causing Y/N cheeks to turn red a bit and look down. She gasped when he suddenly slipped his hand into her panties, the sudden touch on her clit causing her to lean into him. Y/N's eyes fluttered shut as she tried not to make too much noise as Harry's fingers explored her cunt.

"Just when I thought it couldn't get more perfect..." Harry said, planting a kiss on her neck before suddenly sticking a finger inside of her. Y/N's hips bucked slightly at the sudden intrusion, and she was quick to grab onto the counter in front of her.

"Shit..." she whispered, breathing becoming more heavy as Harry added a finger. The wet noises of Y/N pussy filled the room, and Harry's pants tightened even more at the sound of it.

Needing her to come desperately before he was going to cream his own pants, Harry picked up his pace. Y/N let out a whine at the speed of his fingers, and began to clench around them.

"You gonna come for me baby?" He took it as a sign, and by the way Y/N's head was hanging low with nothing but small moans leaving her lips, he was interpreting it just right. She quickly nodded in response, keeping her eyes closed as her face began to scrunch up. Harry eyed the counter she was holding onto, and spotted her white knuckled hands.

"You're doing so good, you can come for me." He motivated her. It didn't take more than a few seconds for her to start spasming around his fingers. Y/N's body fell forward a bit, her shaky legs barely being able to keep her up as she came around Harry's fingers. He was quick to pull her back into him, forcing her to hold onto to his arm as she rode out her orgasm on his hand.

Whispering sweet nothings in her ear, Harry took his time to let Y/N come down from her orgasm. When she finally opened her eyes, and Harry's spotted the dazed look in her eyes, he couldn't help but smile.

"There she is." He teased. Her cheeks were a bright pink from the orgasm she just had, and a small giggle left her mouth. "Was that good for you? Was that what you wanted?"

Y/N said nothing, solely smiling as she turned around to face Harry. His brows furrowed slightly as the silence went on, but he froze when she suddenly began to sink to her knees.

"Baby, you don't have to feel obligated to—"

Immediately, her smile dropped, much like Harry's heart. She looked up at him with those doe eyes of her, looking disappointed.

"You don't want that?" She asked, and Harry was pretty sure a piece of his heart cracked at hearing the tone of her voice.

"I want everything from you. I just don't want you to feel like you have to make me feel good just because I make you feel good, okay?" He explained, hoping she would understand.

Y/N tilted her head. "But... I want it."

Harry thought it over for a minute, then answered.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

Y/N swallowed, then nodded. Harry quirked up a brow.

"Yes." She voiced quickly, instantly understanding his silent demand for verbal consent.

"And you wanna suck me off?"

Again, Y/N nodded. "Yes."

"Greedy girl." Harry's lips quirked up, and he pushed back a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "Alright, who am I to say no? But just for a little bit, I don't think I'll last long."

Y/N hummed eagerly, immediately reaching for Harry's pants. He was shocked at her sudden burst of confidence when she turned them around so Harry could lean against the counter. He wondered where she'd learned that move, and then he quickly took that thought back, because he didn't want to think about Y/N making this move on other men.

All racing thoughts were thrown out the window when Y/N pulled down Harry's boxers. He could tell she was a bit surprised, and he would be lying if he said it didn't inflate his ego just a bit.

"You still sure about this?" He asked for good measure. Y/N looked at him, a bit... annoyed?

Harry didn't have much time to figure out what the expression on her face meant, because before he knew it, she licked a long stripe from his baseball the way to the tip of cock. Harry hissed, gripping onto the counter as she began to kitten lick the tip.

Fuck, he wasn't gonna last long like this at all.

When Y/N properly put her lips around him and began to really suck him off, Harry had to do everything in his power not to come in the spot. Automatically, he threw his head back, but as soon as he realized he was missing the view of the most beautiful angel he'd ever seen giving him a blowjob, his eyes traveled back to her.

"Fucking— hell..."

Looking up through her lashes, Y/N was sucking on Harry, taking care of what she couldn't take in her mouth with her hand. And then, when she began to speed up, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

Leaning forward, he pulled Y/N off his cock and got her to stand up straight. She yelped at the sudden movement, and she looked slightly offended to be disturbed during her performance of a lifetime. Somehow, when he lifted her up, she knew to wrap her legs around him. She held on tightly as he moved out of the bathroom and made his way over to the couch.

"I have a condom with me."

Y/N tilted her head. "I’m on contraceptives."

"Okay." Harry said. "I haven't been with anyone in like, three months. I got tested then, and I'm clean."

Y/N nodded. "Right... well I haven't been with anyone for like, two years, so I'm definitely clean."

Again, Harry would have been lying if he said that didn't made him feel a bit better about the two of them. But that was not the focus of right now.

"Alright, no condom then?" He asked.

"No condom." Y/N repeated, and that was that.

Sitting down with Y/N on his lap, Harry let her go at her own pace as she grabbed his cock and lined it up with her pussy. It was difficult not to dig his nails into her when she pushed his cock into her. Her jaw was slack, definitely getting used to the size and girth of the man she was pushing inside of her.

It was a matter of patience, but Y/N's tight walls, that patience was running thin. When Harry was about halfway in, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Want me to help?" Harry asked, and when Y/N nodded, he bucked his hips up, impaling her on his dick. She let out a loud a moan at the harshness, throwing her head back. But Harry didn't stop, he began to fuck up into her.

He was mesmerized, watching her tits bounce from the impact, her head back and her neck on display. She was a sight for sore eyes and he couldn't believe he was lucky enough to see her like this.

"Fuck, angel, you feel so good." The nickname slipped out like it was the most normal thing on earth. Harry was pleasantly surprised to feel her clenching around him in response, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"D'you like that? When I call you angel?" He began to provoke her. She nodded.

"I love it." The confession slipped past her lips. She opened her eyes, gazing into Harry's. "Again, please."

"Yeah? Want me to call you angel?" He asked, the rhetoric question earning some groans from Y/N's side. "You know why I call you angel, baby?"

"Why?" Her voice was soft, breath hitching as she began bouncing on Harry's cock more now that he had slowed his pace.

"Because the first time I saw you I thought I was dreaming." Harry said, holding onto her waist. Y/N let out a small moan. "You have this radiation about you, angel. You light up every room you’re in."

"Fuck..." Y/N cursed under her breath. "I can't— I need more, please, please..."

Harry groaned at the sheer desperation in her voice, pulling out to switch positions and laying Y/N on her back. When he entered her again, he didn't waste much time before pounding into her.

"Needed this angel? Needed me so bad, huh?" He asked, watching Y/N's eyes roll back as she tried to hold onto anything she could in order not to fall off the couch.

"Harry— oh my god!" She cried out helplessly, clawing onto his chest and arms. She wrapped her legs around Harry's torso, and he leaned forward to go even deeper, his cross chain dangling above her mouth.

Harry about lost it when she took the chain between her teeth and used it to pull him closer before putting her lips on his. All the sounds that left their mouths entered each other, their pleasure flowing between bodies like a steady wave.

Harry wasn't surprised that Y/N stopped kissing him, having felt her clench around his hard cock. She couldn't even get a word out, but Harry knew enough.

"C'mon angel, come for me." He growled, beginning to chase his own high as Y/N came around him.

Harry's orgasm followed not long after, and he was quick to pull out, his seed coating her lower stomach. Both were breathing heavily, not really speaking to each other as they came down from their highs. After a minute or two, Harry leaned forward and planted a kiss on Y/N's forehead before getting up from the couch.

Y/N was too dazed to say anything about it, but she didn't have to wait long before Harry returned with paper towels to clean up the mess he made. He praised her casually as he wiped her stomach clean.

When he was done, he pulled her to sit up straight on the couch and got a glass of water for the both of them. Again, Y/N could only nod. He sat back down, handing one of the glasses to the girl next to him and watched her take some big sips before grabbing the glasses again and putting it back on the table. He was shocked when Y/N suddenly spoke up.

"I think I'm gonna quit my job." She said, staring at the wall in front of her. Harry put down his drink as well, re-positioning himself on the couch so he was sitting towards her.

"Y/N..." He was speechless. Seeing the look on her face, hearing those words come out of her mouth, it hurt him to see her like that. She finally turned to look at him.

"I can't... I can't be in the same space as him." She looked down at her fiddling hands, and Harry spotted the tears welling in her eyes. "I'm just so afraid all the time."

Fuck.

He didn't know how much quicker he could've pulled her into a hug. Y/N didn't particularly hug him back, but she rested her head on his shoulder as she accepted his embrace.

"I'm sorry." Y/N mumbled, barely cohesive as her words were muffled by Harry's shoulder. He pulled away from the hug. "I didn't meant to ruin the vibe."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He reminded her, wiping a tear away from her cheek. "I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me."

Y/N sighed. "It's gonna be hard as shit to find a new job here, though."

It was so incredibly unfair that Y/N had to be the one to switch jobs. Harry's jaw clenched. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to HR? They might be able to do something."

Y/N shook her head. "I don't have proof."

"Sexual harassment isn't about proof. If someone makes you uncomfortable, whether they intend to or not, that is sexual harassment." Harry said. He had a zero tolerance policy at the gym, and unfortunately had a sexual harassment situation once at work when a personal trainer kept making inappropriate comments towards one of the cleaners. He was very thankful that the woman felt safe enough to inform him, and he hated that Y/N didn't have that.

"It's complicated. I went on a date with him, that doesn't make me look very good." She replied. The look in her eyes was hopeless, and it scared him that this situation had been draining her so much.

"I still think you should consider it." Harry insisted anyway, hoping she would keep the option in the back of her mind at the very least.

Y/N shrugged. "I'll see."

The silence loomed over the both of them, and Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to comfort her, tell her all the right things she wanted to hear. But he wasn't sure what she did or didn't want to hear.

Instead, Harry leaned forward, his hand cupping her jaw. Her eyes fluttered closed, head tilting towards his hand. In turn, his stomach fluttered.

"You're going to be okay, no matter what." He assured her. Sure, he didn't know what she was going to do or how everything was going to turn out, but he felt very strongly that things would be fine.

"Thank you." Y/N whispered sweetly, her eyes still closed.

Harry smiled. She looked safe now.

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove@bitchidontpost @lomlolivia @harringtonhundreds @fruit-harry

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lenoreshouse · 2 days ago

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02.Lenores house

I visited the property today, and well first of all the neighbours where..strange to say the least. They watched me quite intensely as I walked up the path, one that is dead grass and dry dirt, made from shoes making the same steps continuosly over the years. This path streaks through the over grown garden, from the squeaking gate to the paint chipped door. Sticky plants reach out from each side, a lot of them caught and clung to my clothes.

The neighbours at first didn't do anything that odd. Sure, they stared at little too long through lacey netting, so thin it gave little cover for thier curious and wary eyes. But this area didn't seem the sort to have new visitors, so I can understand wanting to get a good look. Sus out the newbie, would this person be a friend or foe, would they be the sort to avoid.

I've had the displeasure of being stuck with an awful neighbour, one that was up all hours like an drunk angry owl nesting in the walls. I didn't expect them to introduce themselves, I'd have probably broken into an anxious sweat if they had. I'm not the most social or extroverted. if I was I wouldn't be moving into this tiny town all on my own. I would be in the city somewhere, doing whatever it is people in their twenties do, when their not bogged down by depression and loneliness. Maybe I should fake being sociable, perhaps that's where I'm going wrong. Am I really depressed or am I just growing too comfortable bed rotting and doomscrolling. Are these the symptoms or the cause, It's hard to tell. I wonder how many people are chasing serotonin with drinks and friends they don't really care for, and how many feel better for it. I want to know how long that high lasts, the fall must be messy.

They definitely don't have to worry about parties or loud noise from me that's for sure. I might just have to introduce myself to them, just to ease this tension. They watched me struggle with the old lock , watched me push the wooden door that had expanded, now pressed too tightly to the frame and every time I looked back and gave a small smile or wave, they just.. kept staring. It was definitely a little awkward and unnerving.

Strange neighbours aside, I do have an update on the state of the house. Its cluttered and damp, but not completely worn away. The downstairs clutter is mostly old furniture and a lot of boxes filled with random crockery spreading from the living room into the hallway and half climbing up the stairs. That will be fun to navigate. Hopefully I don't break my ankles. It seems like most of the work will be sorting through all the boxes and seeing what furniture is salvageable. Maybe I can see if my new neighbours want any, could be a way to break the ice. I'll be back for another visit soon, just to bring some things in and start cleaning it.

- A.H

←01.

#Lenoreshouse #Lenoreshouse.02 #a.h writing #a.h.#spilled writing #spilled ink #original writing #new writers on tumblr #spilled words #short story #writing community #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poems and poetry #writblr #creative writing #literature

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minakooo · 2 days ago

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Your kisses hurt more than bruises

A.N: God the excitement I feel in my bones for this fic I swear you guys are gonna love this! (I hope) Sorry for any mistakes or if this is too corny.

Pinning: College Au. Secret underground boxer Bangchan and Med student Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of emotional trauma, self-doubt, past breakup, and migraine episodes.

Summary: You're a med student, an average one to say, and looks like you just got a new roommate. Plus your two besties hyunjin and Felix

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"Shit again?" You cursed as another one of your highlighters stops working. Finals were coming up and you needed to note down all these notes. But how could you when your stupid highlighters kept drying up?! They definitely declared war against you. You groaned as you reached for your pouch and scrambled to find another highlighter.

While you searched someone whistled behind you, before you could look up, arms wrapped around your neck. "Here," Felix smiled warmly as he gave you a highlighter, behind him was Hyunjin, who had a lollipop in his mouth.

"Damn this like, what, your fourth highlighter?" Hyunjin teased as he went up to your desk and leaned against it while Felix looked down at your notes. They knew you were working hard for the finals, everyone was in fact. "You should totally take a break, pretty." Felix pouted slightly as he poked your cheek and Hyunjin smirked,

"Yeah, like go a on date type of break."

You knew that was coming, you should've expected it because these two have been nagging you to go on one of their special blind dates.

"Yes! You owe us one [name], you cancelled on the last guy and he definitely didn't take that lightly." Felix cringed at the reminder of what happened when you ghosted another one of their blind dates. Hyunjin rolled his eye, tilting his head to the side, as he popped the lollipop out of his mouth. "Psh, he was jerk."

"And you guys wanted me to go out on said date with that jerk." Hyunjin and Felix started silent before they bursted out laughing. Their laughter slowly spread to you and you couldn't help but laugh alongside them.

"Excuse me, this is a library!" An old lady shouted at you three and you immediately bowed your head and muttered an apology before making a quick escape while the old lady shot dagger at you three.

"Damn I forget how scary the new librarian is." Felix muttered and you couldn't help but nod along. "Definitely, but she's good at finding the books anyone asks for." You sighed, "Unlike the last lady." Hyunjin tsked as he bit his lollipop before he threw the stick in the trash. You, Felix, and Hyunjin have been best friends for a long time. They were with you in highschool and with you in college as well.

They're like your support system, the only people who make this miserable and boring college life more bearable. Sure they set you up on dates but you know deep down they just want you to be happy, after all it was because of them you meet your last boyfriend.

"Anyway, you guys hear about this new roommate program?" Hyunjin questioned and Felix nodded along before adding his own comment. "Yeah, I heard because their changing the dorms, the administration decided to save space by making two bedroom dorms. Talk about being broke." Felix scoffed and he was right too, it was annoying to share a room with a complete stranger who steals your food and makes a mess.

You grumbled as the thought of sharing a dorm with someone but your head. "Wait aren't they starting at floor c this week? Isn't that your floor [name]?" Hyunjin asked innocently but that grin on his and Felixs' face didn't seem so innocent.

"Fuck off." You pushed them away and they laughed before rushing over to you. "Okay but like think about it, what if their hot?" Hyunjin nudged your shoulder before Felix laid his arm around your shoulders. "What if they're single and ready to mingle, am I right?" Felix grinned while Hyunjin smirked— the two high five each other while you groaned again, a slight blush creeping up on you face as they continued to say more nonsense. They were always so talkative, probably because they loved seeing you reactions.

It didn't take long for you guys to reach your floor, the boys continued to tease you—even going as far to a make a roleplay of you and your roommate. "Oh please save me from my boring sad life!" Felix acted out—talking in a high pitch tone while Hyunjin spoke in a deep fake manly voice, "Don't worry babygirl, I'll save you!" The two were dorks seriously. You were going to speak up before you stopped and the two ended up bumping into you.

"Hey what's wrong-" Hyunjin's jaw dropped as the three of you saw an administrator standing in front of your dorm, with another student. Tall, brown hair, he was wearing a hoodie and had a mask on while he carried his stuff.

"God, he's hot."

You bit your tongue for thinking the way but the closer you get to him the more wild your thoughts grew.

"Shit—how tall is this guy?"

You stood there trying to keep yourself from gawking over this guy. Literally violins were playing in your head. Big biceps, cute face, oh god his cheeks looked so squishy and his lips? They were perfect for kissing.

"Hold up is that-" Hyunjin looked at Felix—who was already looking at him—and shut up. "Yep. That's my roommate." You spoke in a breathless tone. You were seriously thinking of wedding bells. while Felix and Hyunjin nodded.

"Should we tell her-" "Fuck no!" Felix immediately stammered and Hyunjin cringed at the awkwardness of the situation.

But to be honest, this might be a match made in heaven.

"Ah, [name]! Good afternoon, I'm simply here to drop you and your new roommate to your new dorms. Please pack your things," The administrator smiled at you and you smiled back, hiding the fact you were dying inside, "Let us help." Felix and Hyunjin didn't give you a moment to protest before they entered your dorm and got to packing. You couldn't argue with them and sighed before following them and getting to packing.

It took exactly an hour and a half to get done. Your roommate looked bored and the administrator was busy on her phone. "I'm done," You cleared your throat to catch their attention and the administrator looked up from her phone to look at you. "Alrighty! Let's get you two to your new dorms, cho-cho!" She was, something. Felix and Hyunjin were following you guys but they had this weird look on their faces—like they were hiding something. You didn't question it because you trusted the two and you knew whatever they were hiding couldn't be that bad. The walk to the new dorm wasn't far, in fact it was literally just five minutes away from your previous dorm.

"Ta-da! The two of you will stay you, [name] and Bangchan, they're two bedrooms, a kitchen, one bathroom in the hallway, and the living room. Come—I'll show you guys around." The two of you, Chan and you, followed the administrator as she gave you a tour of the new dorm. It wasn't bad, definitely bigger than your previous on. The kitchen was plain, simple, tidy and the living room had some couches with one small tv.

"Should we tell them?" Felix whispered to Hyunjin, who immediately shook his head. "Hell nah, let them figure out on their own. Plus, it's not like Chan would bother telling them he knows us. He probably already thinks they already know." Hyunjin snickered and Felix let out a fake gasp, "Oh you're evil—but so am I.," Felix giggled with Hyunjin, the two menace were up to something.

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Day 1

"Fuck!" You shouted as you realised you overslept. Technically you didn't—but since you have your mornings planned out this has just ruined your entire morning routine for the day. You got out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, when you reached for the door knob, it already opened up.

"Huh?" Bangchan looked down at you confused. He stared at you for a few moments before it clicked. "Sorry I forgot we were roommates."

You looked at him with a blank expression, totally shocked by what he said and not the fact his wet hair and face looked amazing. His cologne—you wanted to bathe in it for hours.

"Wait no I'm late!"

You stopped yourself from admiring the man in front of you and you squeezed though him so you could shower and get done quick. You need enough time for breakfast!

You took a good 40-45 minutes in the shower and an extra five minutes in putting on your clothes. Upon checking the time you sighed in relief that you were indeed not late.

"Thank god," You walked over to the kitchen as you rubbed the back of your neck and relaxed for a bit. When you looked back at the kitchen that's when you saw him, Chan, he was making an omelette and he looked over at you with a plain expression.

"Uhm do I say hi? Good morning? You look tired? I love your hair—no don't say that!" You nervously smiled at him and he smiled back at you. Shit even his smile was cute!

You went over to make yourself a sandwich while you stood next to him. The silence was awkward. Super awkward. But while you made your sandwich you couldn't help but notice something—why did he have so many bandage on? Are those blood stains? And those cuts look painful.

You took a sneaky glance at him, kinda admiring his face but while you did he looked at you. "You have class right? I don't usually have classes today or on Wednesdays. Professor gives us independence work."

You nodded along each sentence like you weren't internally panicking because you were running out of time. It genuinely felt like there was a ticking time-bomb in your head.

"That's cool and you're pretty lucky." You shrugged as you ate your sandwich and he hummed before that awkward silence came again. The moment you got done, you grabbed your things and ran out the door.

Day 2

"Ughhhh, I'm so sleepy"

You walked over to your dorm, key in your hand, eyes barely open, and your feet felt like magnets stuck against the floor. Honestly, did professor Jun have to give that much work? Does he just hate his students and want to torture them.

You reached out to unlock your dorm room and your hand grazed against someone elses'. You looked up confused—oh wait it's just Bangchan...OH WAIT IT'S BANGCHAN

"Oh, sorry I didn't see you there." Chan look down at you—his eyes calm and steady. The eye bags under his eyes made it clear he was just as tired as you were. "Oh no, it's my fault please you can go ahead."

"No no, it's fine you go."

"It's alright! I insist!"

This went on for a good minute or two before one of you decided to just leave and open the door. You kicked your shoes off and threw your bag on the couch before waking away to your bedroom. Chan followed along, going to his own room to change and get freshened up.

Finally when you were out of your clothes and in your pjs you sighed and tied your hair up while letting out a yawn. The college life was tiring.

"Let's kill this love, dun da dun, yeah, yeah, something something"

You hummed the lyrics while you walked over to the living room to watch some tv and relax. "Oh, I like that song too!" Chan spoke up—looking up from his phone as he had his legs and arm spread out ok the couch.

"O-oh, yeah I like black pink and listen to them sometimes." You played it off cool as you say on the couch, Chan had given you space since he didn't want to disturb your comfort zone.

Now that you're sitting down you see it. He's wearing a tank top, sweatpants, and holy shit. Is this what they call a lady boner?

"Act cool, act cool, act cool, don't look at him, don't look at him, I'M LOOKING AT HIM."

You pulled out your phone and scrolled through tiktoks while trying to ignore the beauty in front of you. It felt so wrong to stare at him, jeez you were not better than any other man.

"Something wrong?" Chan asked, tilting his head and smiling slight. "WHY'S HE CUTE?!" "Oh, nothing just tired!" You replied a bit louder than you intended too.

Day 3

"I can't do this anymore. I'm wayyyy to underpaid for this. But damn it, Chan, I can't leave."

Chan walked to the dorm and made sure no one was around. If any of the guards found him like this they would integrate him and ask him if he was student of not. He looked down at his knuckles and his face twitched with annoyance. "This one's gonna hurt." He opened the door and scanned the place while closing the door. And that's when he saw it. When he saw you.

You just sat there. Under the lamp—not even realising how beautiful you looked. He didn't understand why he was staring. You were his roommate! He reluctantly looked away from you and took his shoes off. One minute he was taking his shoes off the next he was walking over to you.

"Hey," He spoke calmly but in reality he was screaming inside because the way your hair fell in front of your face and your eyes shined under the light. He finally understands how the male lead in a k-drama feels.

"Hi," You nodded, acknowledging his presence before going back to making your highlight suffer by highlighting notes. Honestly, you were way to tired to fan girl over him. "Getting ready for finals?" You hummed answering his question and he pressed his lips together trying to understand why on earth he was next to you.

Chan looked down at your notes and he noticed something. "That's wrong." He spoke without thinking and he almost hesitated to speak up with the way you looked at him, so tired, so annoyed, so pretty. "You highlighted the wrong sentence." He pointed out and you looked down at where he was pointing at—he was right. You did highlight the wrong text.

"Here—let me help you," He sat down on the chair next to you, he took your textbook and the other highlighter you had before he underlined another text. "This'll help. I'm pretty good in cardiology, want my help?"

"Sure." You didn't mind help, you were to tired to refuse anyway.

And there he was, helping you study and take down notes. Like he wasn't planning on sleeping and forgetting about the exhausting day he had.

"You're pretty good at this." You chuckled and he looked bit shy, not scary looking like you always thought he was.

Day 4

"You with Chan, me with [name]," Felix fist bumped Hyunjin before they opened your guys' dorm room. You were in the kitchen, and Chan was in the living room. The two rascals gave each other one wink before commencing their plan.

"Hey dude! How are you doing?" Hyunjin patted Chan's shoulders and Chan looked at the other man with a smile. "Hyunjin," Chan watched was Hyunjin sat down on the couch next to him.

"So, how's life?" Hyunjin asked enthusiasticly as he looked at Chan. "Life's good, the new dorm is bigger than the last one and the bathroom shower actually gives hot water." Chan shrugged—not really have anything new in his life other than this new dorm change.

Hyunjin nodded and looked down at Chan's knuckles. "You still working?" He asked a bit concerned for Chan and Chan looked down at where Hyunjin was staring before speaking up again. "Yeah, you know I can't exactly quit."

Hyunjin pouted slightly—he licked his lips slightly trying to figure out what to say to that response. He hummed and moved on from the topic before he grinned sadistically.

"Soooo, how's life with [name]? They're pretty hot, don't you think?" Chan choked on his spit at Hyunjin's question. "Well—I mean yeah they're hot—not that I find them attractive, but that doesn't mean they're not attractive it's just-"

Hyunjin gave himself a pat on the back mentally as he broke Chan. Yep, he got what he was looking for. Only thing left now is seeing how easily you break.

"How's professor Jun? Still tiring?" Felix leaned against the counter and watched as you made some tea for yourself. "Hell yeah, that man makes me wonder who died and made him a professor." He chuckled at your response and watched you quietly before he smirked.

"You know, Bangchan has really big biceps. I mean, those muscles are to die for, right?" You acted like you didn't care but Felix saw that faint blush on your cheeks. "Psh yeah, definitely big but ehh I don't know."

"You sure? You saying they aren't worth the attention?" He gasped dramaticly and watched as you stammered—trying to play it cool while also not making a fool of yourself. This was too easy.

"Well anyway, catch you guys later!" The two left and gave each other a look.

"They like each other,"

"Hell yeah they do."

"We should set them up."

"Definitely."

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The cafe was loud and packed as always. Felix sipped on his iced americano while Hyunjin took a bite of his chicken sandwich. "They definitely like each other," Hyunjin spoke mid-bite, "so we should totally set them up."

Felix nodded and replied back. "Yeah because they definitely won't do anything about it."

"But, how? It's not like they would go on a date if they knew who the other person was." Felix hummed knowing Hyunjin had a fair point—he snapped his fingers and grinned. "We make them go on a blind date!" Felix took a quick sip of his iced americano before going back to speaking.

"The two will have to deal with the embarrassment later—Chan will agree because, well, he's Chan and he really doesn't care,"

"True, and [name] will definitely need some convincing." Hyunjin took a bite of his sandwich as he thought of something that would get you to say yes. They both know you're as hard as a rock when it comes to saying yes to blind dates.

"Listen, what if, we lie and say that it was some guy who got stood up! You know how they get at these things. "They'll think their doing someone a favour but really-"

"Their doing us a favour!" Hyunjin completed Felixs' sentence and they both were content on how the planning went.

"We'll set the place here and I'll tell them, he's sitting next to the window—while we sit in the back and watch the two. Boom, que the violins, the roses,"

"The wedding." Hyunjin snorted and the two sighed—satisfied with how their plan was fitting in, in all the right places.

Hyunjin looked down at his sandwich and stared at it for a while. Felix noticed and put down his drink—a slight concerned expression on his face as he saw how quiet Hyunjin got. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, giving Hyunjin a pat on the shoulder.

"When I was with Chan, I saw he had new bruises. His knuckles were red and I saw some cuts.." He muttered trying not to make it seem like he cared when in reality it was obvious he did care. He cared a lot.

"I mean, what if they don't accept him? What if they get scared and run away? This has happened before and you know that, Lixxie." Felix pressed his lips together knowing Hyunjin was right, they've been multiple times when someone left Chan whenever he revealed what he did for a living.

"If they don't accept him, we would know." Felix reassured Hyunjin, they've known you for years now. They know what you would think about something before you even thought about it. "But still, we are lying to them as well."

"Nope, we're sweet talking—there's a difference."

Hyunjin scoffed jokingly at Felix's words and smiled to himself. Maybe—maybe you wouldn't care and would accept Chan the way he is, after all?

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Hyunjin and Felix definitely owe you one. This guy definitely had to be worth your time because you literally spent an hour and a half getting ready—taking a shower, putting on your best perfume, doing your makeup like a runway model, everything.

"Is he even cute? The two mentioned he was tall, definitely not as tall as Bangchan though.. GOD."

You sighed as you stopped in front of the café door and walked inside. Maybe it was nice of them to pick this one since it's the closest to the dorms, plus you did like their coffee.

"So, he'll be sitting at the table next to the table. He's gonna do happy you gave him a chance after he got stood up!" Felix exclaimed happily while Hyunjin wiped a fake tear.

"Poor guy, I can't believe she just left him there for hours and didn't even text him back!" Hyunjin dramatically leaned back like a victorian woman. "Just make sure to look your best [name]!" Felix gave you a thumbs up and you sighed as you realised what you were getting yourself into.

"The window seat.." You muttered to yourself as you searched for the seat that was the closest to the window. Once you found it, you smiled and walked over to the table.

"Hello-" You paused when you saw him.

"[Name]?"

"Chan?"

Chan looked at you confused because he didn't expect to see you here. He was here for his blind date.

"Chan, you can't believe how sad they were. Like the guy totally left them and didn't even send a message!" Felix sighed as he laid his head down on Chan's lap.

"Yeah, they cried that night and told us they would never go out again. I'm so happy you gave them a chance!" Hyunjin wrapped his arm around Chan's shoulders and the two acted like two old women. He was too used to their bullshit to care.

"What are you doing here?" He chuckled as he leaned his head on his palm—using his elbow to support him. Chan didn't mind though, you looked gorgeous in his eyes.

"I'm here because Felix and Hyunjin set me on a date, with a guy who got stood up." You gave an upside down smile as you sat down in your chair and Cha looked at you surprised.

"I'm here because one of their friends got stood up on a date too." His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he realised what was going on. The two rascals set you guys up.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you processed the situation. This was mildly amusing but you needed to hide the fact you were absolutely tweaking out on how hot Chan looked. You grabbed your phone and texted the two.

"You two assholes!"

Afar from you, Hyunjin and Felix giggled as they saw your text sent to the gc. "This was so worth it." "Definitely." The two snacked on their cupcakes as they watched the scene before them.

“You know... If this was a real date, I’d probably be trying harder to impress you." He grinned as he watched your slight blush. He wouldn't lie and say he didn't want to tease you. “But I don’t think I need to. You already look like you like me just the way I am.”

"I mean can you blame me?" You chirpped back as you looked at him. Chan giggled, almost shy but not quite. Maybe this wasn't so bad. You might just thank Hyunjin and Felix—might.

Since this is definitely the first time in the days you two spent together as roomates, where you weren't nervous.

You two sat in the living room—relaxing on the couch while the two of you talked. "Yeah so I was in a fight club when I was younger." Chan admitted, his body language was relaxed and he seemed more comfortable with you. It was nice to know he was okay with you seeing him this way.

"Really?" You tilted your head as you hugged one of the pillows and Chan nodded. "Yeah, I did a lot of stuff when I was younger." He chuckled and that gummy smile of his made your heart melt. You were sure if you didn't have any ounce of embarrassment in you, you would actually ask him out instead of your friends having to set up guys up.

"What about you, [name]? I barely know anything about you, like why you chose med and if you were always this cute." He teased and you couldn't help but chuckle at his flirting. He was smooth that was for sure. But he was always right, you barely told him anything about yourself.

"I chose med because I liked it. It's hard af but it's fun in a way? Not like my family forced me I just wanted to do it, to help people and know I did a good job." You smirked before you continued. "And yes, I've always been this cute." You leaned closer unintentionally—and while you didn't notice, Chan definitely did.

“Should I scoot closer or are you good with the view from there?” Chan smirked and You couldn't help but blush once you realised how close you two had gotten.

This might've been your best night since your ex, Cha Eun.

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"Everything's been alright, Chan and I have gotten to know each other more?" You shrugged your shoulders as Felix got a can of soda from the campus vending machine, Hyunjin was leaning against a wall and listened to everything you said.

"After the date you two set up," You glared at them playfully before going on, "I got to know a little more about him. Me and Chan talked a lot, we still do!"

"He helps me with my notes and it kinda helps calm me down. My migraines haven't shown up as often anymore." Felix looked up at you before he grabbed his can of soda. "Really? That's actually good news!" He smiled happy to know you were doing better since he knew migraines aren't easy. "We're really matchmakers," "Like the ones from Mulan?"

Felix glared at Hyunjin while the other man snickered. "Fa Mulan." He acted out dramatically earning a laugh from all of you.

"But what else has been going on, babes?" Hyunjin gestured for you to continue as the three of you walked away to a cafeteria table. "I mean, me and him have been playing video games together! But he kinda sucks—I beat him three times yesterday and he was sulking the whole time."

You chuckled as you remembered how he pouted and acted like he was okay but really was deeply ashamed he lost that easily.

"And we've been cooking together too. We tried making some fried rice yesterday."

"Anything spicy though?" The two boys gave you a look and you couldn't help but get shy at their question. "Yeahhh," You fiddled with your fingers as you went on, "We were watching a movie yesterday and I fell asleep on his shoulder."

"AWWW," The two looked so happy that you and Chan were getting along and you were too. It felt like only a day ago you were scared of him—but now you wanted nothing more but to spend time with him. It wasn't until Felix cleared his throat that you snapped out of your thoughts.

"But.. have you told him about Cha Eun? Or about your migraines, [name]?" You shifted nervously at the question because the answer was obvious. You hadn't told Chan about any of those topics.

The boys looked a bit disappointed that you didn't and you muttered in response at their disappointment. "I just don't think now's the best time. I don't wanna weird him out or something." The two, Hyunjin and Felix, looked at each other before looking back at you.

It was funny how the two of you were hiding things from each other. How neither of you mentioned such important things because you were scared.

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"It's been a month now—i can't do this anymore. My everything hurts..I just want sleep."

Chan walked over to the dorm and he lazily opened the door. He didn't care about setting his shoes aside properly—instead he just kicks them off and walks over to the couch like a zombie. It didn't take long before he fell on the couch and he didn't bother to take care of his cuts and bruises, even if they hurt.

His eyes shut and he muttered to himself before falling asleep, forgetting about the fact you were still at home and would see him this way.

You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water—studying for finals isn't easy without any hydration. While you walked to the kitchen you noticed how a certain pair of shoes weren't set in the shoe rack. You knew it was Chan's but he never leaves his shoes like this.

You looked over at the couch and you saw him sleeping so peacefully.

"He looks so cute, I wonder what he was up to?"

You couldn't help but want to walk over to him and check if he was okay. You kneeled down to get a better look at Chan and you smiled to yourself as you saw how cute he looked. But something was wrong. Why did he have so many cuts? You didn't notice at first because the lights were so dim but now that you have you couldn't help but realise how bloody his knuckles were.

The water could wait—what mattered was patching up Chan's bruises and cuts. You got the med kit in no time and you hesitated but you took his hands and wiped the blood off of them while trying not to wake him up.

What was he doing? Did someone attack him? Why did he always go on late night walks?? All these questions and no answer. You hated it. You hated it despite the fact you knew you weren't telling him everything either. But you still couldn't help but feel annoyed he wasn't telling you the truth.

"This isn't like him.."

The cut in his lips made you worry—the skin around his fingers were peeled and you only grew more concerned as you bandaged one hand of his.

Your face twitched and you tried to hold back the sneeze but you couldn't stop yourself. One moment Chan was laying down asleep—the next he was up and ready to fight like a soldier in war.

"What?!" He shouted, his body tense and his breathing fast and steady. When he saw what you were doing—med kit next to you, his hands in yours, and that bandage— the colour from his face drained and he pulled his hands away from yours.

"No- Chan!" You scolded mad at the fact he just pulled his hands away, mad at the fact he woke up, mad at the fact he wasn't telling you everything—because that meant he wasn't comfortable with you.

"What are you doing." He spoke in a low and blunt tone. That tone that he used before something bad happened.

Your gaze softened with concern and sadness, he was terrified. But why?

"Chan. Give me your hand." You spoke softly—almost like you were dealing with a scared wolf that needed help but was scared to let anyone near. Chan looked at you— confused, angry, exhausted.

"Why aren't you scared." When he asked that you couldn't help but look at him like he said the stupidest thing in the world.

"Why would I be scared, Chan?" You questioned trying to understand what exactly was going on in that head of his. What he was so afraid of?

"That I'll hurt you?"

That sentence made you stop everything. "Hurt me?" You repeated his words before continuing. "Chan, you wouldn't hurt me—I know that." You made it obvious you weren't scared so why couldn't he take the hint?

"Chan, are you scared that you'll hurt me?" Chan didn't know what to say. Instead of focusing on your reaction—you made him focus on his reaction.

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't speak. Maybe because he didn't want to speak. Maybe because he didn't feel the need to.

Chan reluctantly gave you his hands and he looked like a deer in headlights as you smiled before going back to dealing with his cuts.

It stayed like that. Quiet. Only thing you heard was his heavy breathing and the slight clutter whenever you grabbed something.

He stayed still—watching you like his life depended on it. His hands twitched ever so slightly whenever you pressed rubbing alcohol on the cuts. It felt like an eternity before you were done.

"There," You pulled your hands away from his and for a moment—Chan wanted you to continue holding his hands. "All better." Your voice was tender, sweet, and gentle. It wasn't what he was used too.

"You don't want to know how I got these?"

"I'll let you tell me instead of me asking." You spoke quick and clear. You didn't ask him anything because you wanted him to tell you instead.

He bit his tongue as he watched you straighten up and get closer to his face. Chan closed his eyes as you cleaned the dried blood on his face. He wanted to tell you but his instincts were telling him no.

Chan gulped as he parted his lips, his hands shaking as he spoke. "I—" His voice felt stuck in his throat as he heard you hum, you were so patient. "I'm an underground boxer..." He took a deep breath and continued, "I never left that fight club habit."

You stayed still—you didn't judge him or give him a nasty look. You just stayed there.

"Felix..Hyunjin.. they tell me to stop but I can't—it's not like I don't know it's bad. I know.. my family sees me with cuts and bruises—they just flinch but never ask. I've been this way since sixteen and everyone who came into my life always left for the same reason. They deemed me as a monster—as a freak who knows nothing but violence."

He felt this pain in his chest.

"What are you doing, Chan? Can't you see they don't care?"

Chan pushed those thoughts away and spoke up again. "I'm not a freak. I'm not a monster. But when I'm in the ring—I just feel real. Like I'm alive. Like I have a reason to live.."

He opened his eyes and your faces were inches apart. You were simply checking for any infection or something, but Chan's gaze made you stop.

You both stared at each other until you spoke up. "You were scared I would see you as psychopath. As the monster you think you are." You whispered and for once—for once in his life Chan actually felt seen. His lips parted and the two of leaned close until your lips pressed against his.

It felt like fireworks exploded in his stomach. His heart raced and his hands went up to cup your cheeks—even though it hurt to move his hands.

The two of you pulled back and for a moment it seemed like it was just the two of you in this world. Your eyes locked onto his ass his locked onto yours. It was romantic even. Intimate.

But reality punched you both in the face.

Your eyes widened and so did his, the two of you pulled away from each other and you looked conflicted. You liked it but why did it feel so wrong?

Why did it hurt Chan to kiss you? Why did it stress you out that you kissed him?

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You stared at Chan and the whole time you couldn't help but feel your heart race. Not because you liked this—no, but because you were scared. You didn't want to hurt his feelings but you couldn't be around him.

"I-I'm gonna go study." You muttered getting up in a hurry, almost tripping while trying to escape to your bedroom.

Once you reached, you caved in. You slid down the door and your head fell on your knees as your hands went to your hair.

"Why did you kiss him."

"You just like his attention."

"You'll be absolutely useless for him."

It felt like you weren't there. Like you were alive but you weren't exactly there. Your hands were shaking as you denied each thought, "No I do like him." You stammered but that voice inside your head said another thing.

"No you don't, you just like the fact he makes you forget about life. About Cha Eun."

Your breathing was shaky and you looked at your hands. Is this real? "No no no..." You repeated those words as you tried to understand your life.

"Be honest, you're failing. Academically and life-wise. Look at yourself!"

You got up and walked over to the bathroom. You grabbed onto the sink—your legs felt like jelly as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes were tired. Your face was dull—like you hadn't slept in weeks. Your mouth trembled.

And still, you stayed quiet.

You glanced at your notebook on the table. The one where Chan had written neat notes for you to review. You remembered how he had laughed with you and acted so relaxed.

Chan was happy. He was proud that you were doing so well.

So why was it you still felt like a failure? Like you only kissed him out of instinct?

"Why did you kiss him..." Because you didn’t know what else to do. Because your brain was loud and he was the only quiet in your life. Because for one second, you wanted to feel like you were worth something.

But what if he thought it meant something else? What if you were just using him without realising it? So you could move on and than dump him?

Your stomach turned. This wasn’t fair. Not to him. Not to you. And suddenly, the weight of it all—the finals, your ex, the kiss—crashed into your skull like thunder. Your vision blurred and that familiar pressure started behind your eyes.

Migraine.

Of course it would come now.

You turned off the lights, laid your head on the desk, and curled into yourself—trying not to cry, trying not to think, trying not to feel.

"You don't get to be loved just because you're tired." The voice in your head whispered.

And somehow, you didn't argue or make something up. You just stay there letting your thoughts fill the silence.

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Chan sat frozen on the couch, the silence pressing against his skull like a vice. Everything replayed in his head — the softness of your touch, the concern in your eyes, the way your lips met his. It played on loop, like punishment.

His gaze dropped to the fresh bandages wrapped around his hands. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers over them — the very cuts you had cleaned. His throat tightened.

"You forced them. You forced them to kiss you because of your sob story."

He didn’t argue. What was the point? That voice had lived inside him for years. It spoke with authority, it had him stuck and be it's slave.

"What made you think you could be anything else but a freak?"

His chest tightened. The voice wasn’t wrong. No, because if it were wrong he would've known. People wouldn't have left him if he wasn't violent.

"Why do they always leave?"

He answered out loud, a whisper to himself. "Because I scare them away."

He let himself fall back against the couch. The cushions swallowed him, but didn’t comfort him. He curled in on himself, as if hiding might make the pain quieter. He wanted to pretend he didn’t care, but everything about him — the tremble in his hands, the sting in his ribs, the pounding in his chest — said otherwise.

He remembered you smiling at him across the kitchen counter. Beating him at video games. He remembered how hard you were laughing and shouting about how much of a baby he was. For once he didn't feel like he was dangerous but felt like he was actually him

Now, that same memory felt like it belonged to someone else. Someone who deserved you.

"Oh, that's cool, Chan." Minjin smiled awkwardly as he told her about his life. He stared at her confused wanting to know what the issue was. But Chan didn't say anything and waited until yesterday.

He woke up and opened his phone.

"I'm sorry but I don't think I can be with you. You're too wild." He read that message again and again because he knew what wild meant. He knew she meant he was too dangerous, too risky to be with.

His hands went up to his lips as he stared at the ceiling. "Why do your kisses hurt more than bruises?" He asked him that question.

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I am open to constructive feedback/criticism please don't hesitate to tell me my mistakes since I am still a beginner writer!

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demigodsanswer · 2 days ago

Note

Maybe Sophia’s first birthday?

Finally some uncle!Nico makes an appearance

Annabeth had made sure everything was perfect. Sophia had the perfect frilly pink outfit. The apartment was decorated to the nines. They had a cake for eating and a cake for Sophia to smash (and smash it she had!). Her baby girl's first birthday had been almost perfect.

Vomiting had not been on Annabeth agenda, nor had her body given her much warning that it was coming. She'd felt fine all day. Maybe a little tired, but that was normal with a one-year-old. And then, out of no where --

She didn't even get the dignity of going to the bathroom. All the sudden, she was hunched over the trash can, throwing up onto discarded crusts of pizza and half-eaten slices of cake.

Percy was there to hold her hair in a flash, and apologized to party goers, saying something along the lines of: "You know how it is once the kid is in daycare. They bring everything home."

While it did enough to explain Annabeth's sudden illness, it didn't make party guests want to stay to open presents. People made their way out pretty fast, already fearing for the inevitable onset of some norovirus or other.

Annabeth managed to compose herself enough to try and help Percy clean up.

"Lay down, baby, I've got this," Percy promised, pushing her towards their bedroom. He'd enlisted Nico and Grover's help too, insisting his mom and Paul go home to avoid the plague. "Demigods have good immune systems," he promised them.

They did have good immune systems. Annabeth had never had a stomach flu before. And she'd never had food poisoning either. And she knew enough to know that if it was one of those things, it'd be coming out both ends, not just the one.

Sudden projectile vomiting with no warning? She'd experienced that before.

"Nico, Grover, could you watch Sophia for a minute?" Annabeth asked, stepping back out of the bedroom after only a few minutes alone.

Nico took the chance to stop wiping down the counter, and started speaking Italian in Sophia's direction. Something about the language amused her and got her to laugh every time. Nico, for his brooding affect, seemed to like nothing more than making her giggle.

"What is it?" Percy asked as they stepped into their bedroom.

"I decided to take a pregnancy test," Annabeth said. "To check."

"What did it say?" Percy asked.

"I haven't looked yet," Annabeth said, pulling him towards the bathroom. "I thought we should look together."

Percy's expression was blank with shock. It had taken them so long to conceive Sophia, they didn't think they would ...

Her doctor had put her on the Nuva Ring after Sophia, instead of a longer-term option like the implant. They knew they wanted more kids within only a few years. It seemed practical.

But after years of implants and IUDs, Annabeth wasn't used to having to maintain birth control on a monthly basis. They took off for the Bahamas without her new ring. "I could go find condoms," Percy offered, but Annabeth just pouted. She liked how it felt when -- "Or I could pull out?" He tried again. That didn't fix the issue. "Or we could risk it?" "If you're okay with that..." Annabeth said. "Hey it's your body. As long as you're sure ... you don't need to convince me."

Annabeth turned the pregnancy test over, and before she could really process the two lines, she started laughing.

"All that work for Sophia!" She said. "Eleven months! And ten months later --" She kept laughing.

Percy was smiling too, his arms around her to hold her up. "If you're not ready to do this all again, we don't have to," he said.

"Ugh, what a gentleman," Annabeth said with a smile. "I'm in if you're in."

Percy rested a hand on her tummy. "I think me being in got us into this in the first place," he said, "but yeah, I'm in."

They stepped back outside to send their clean-up-team home.

Grover was smiling at them when he caught them smiling wide.

"Something you want to tell us?" Grover asked.

"What?" They asked.

"I couldn't tell last time. I mean, you smelled different, but I didn't know why. This time, I was sure."

"You knew?" Annabeth asked. "For how long?"

"Like two weeks!" Grover said. "How long have you known?"

"Like two minutes!" Percy said back.

"You're having another baby?" Nico asked, popping up off the couch, Sophia in his arms. She was saying a collection of syllables that sounded vaguely Italian, but might have been absolutely meaningless.

"We are," Annabeth said, still in disbelief.

"So can I keep this one?" Nico asked.

"Give me my baby," Percy said, reaching for Sophia.

"Do you want kids?" Grover asked Nico as Percy pulled his daughter away from him.

"Oh yeah," Nico said.

"Do you and Will have a plan?" Grover asked.

"Yeah," Nico said, "for those two to look the other way."

#percy jackson and the olympians #future canon #percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percababies #nico di angelo #solangelo #grover underwood

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igglemouse · 3 days ago

Text

Week 2 ~ Across The Pitch (3.2) ~ Wednesday

The morning arrives with opportunity and that demands I move with urgency and precision. I sort of rush through making pancakes because I do not have much time to spare and all the while of course Bruno follows me around. Begging for belly rubs and head scratches but I just can't afford it right now. I feel a little guilty. I don't like leaving him alone but what else was there to do? He should be fine, I hope, but unfortunately this is just the price of being single and living alone with a dog. I am able to of course give him a few pets, it's impossible to ignore him.

I needed to have this open shower installed because as you all know, you can only shave in a shower, not a bath. Don't ask why, that's just how things are.

Regardless, it was needed. Television demands perfection and rewards those who do not miss the smallest of details. I can't show up at the studio with fur on my legs and arms because that would then be me. The one hairy girl on that one commercial. Forever immortalized in memes or something. Nope. Unfortunately, it was cutting into Bruno time but mama has to work.

My work day usually starts in my makeup chair and I am always ready to be transformed. With such a small role not much is done. Just the basics to make my best features pop. A touch of magic, I like to say, making me look just a pinch better.

Then it's off to play dress up! How fun it will be to play the role of doctor, even if it is just for a commercial.

This is me trying my best to sell you medicine. A straightforward task, easy for me since most of the commercial will be carried by a narrator. You know the type. That gentle sort of professional voice you hear on pharmaceutical commercials? Yeah, that's most of the commercial. My job then is to just play the doctor and then have a funny quip at the end of it.

It's important work, after all, if you do get rodent fever you'll need to know what you can buy to cure it. Nasty disease! Thankfully, I have no plans on having any rodents in my home.

With success comes more demands. I'll have to broaden my skills and become a little more versatile, especially if I want to pass future auditions. That means dipping more into comedy. A frontier foreign to me but once I feel like will be worth exploring more into.

The best way to learn, I find, is to just try it myself. Write joke and research jokes and just be a student of it. I'm not planning on being a comedian but I would love to be the romantic interest in a romcom, that could be fun!

It really is nice to have Bruno around though because the little guy is just so full of happiness and joy that it really is quite infectious!

I will say I have plenty of reason to be happy as well since I forgot to mention, the reason I was studying comedy is because I have a new role on a tv show. Yes, a TELEVISION show!

It's just a guest appearance on Wild Flames but maybe if I do well enough I'll become a recurring character? We can hope!

My day gets a little more interesting with a call from Marco. I feel like our relationship is getting a little more casual? I'm not sure what that means because it still feels a little odd that a music superstar, such as Marco Aparicio, just randomly calls me to have a conversation about music!

Basically, he's ranting. Some disagreement he's having with a producer about a song on his upcoming album. I'll be honest and say I'm not exactly sure what the big deal is but again, I do like hearing from him! Maybe there is something there? Between us?

There is definitely unfinished business between him and I.

I cook a few sliders because well, my night is really just starting. Fernanda, an old friend of mines, has just moved to the big city, and I am more than happy to welcome her with a night on the town.

I figure a comedy club is the perfect spot. Good entertainment from her, sure, but also a chance to soak in more of that strange artform. I've invited Eliana as well because...no particular reason. I like her, that's why! So, some quick sliders will keep me well fed for my little ladies night out!

So, I take her to what is called the laugh box and it is exactly what you might expect from a comedy club. Small and intimate, dimly lit, and smelling of liquor and cigarettes, but thankfully, the latter was a fading scent, perhaps a hint at the last comedian to hit the stage.

For now, there was a break period which was perfect since I could settle in at the bar with Fernanda and reintroduce myself to her. "So, how are you liking the city?" I ask of her, though, after being here for only a week I could hardly consider myself as some kind of DSV guide.

"It's alright I guess! I always expected a little more but-"

"It's just another city in the end, well, there's a lot that goes on here if you have the simoleons for it, but for us peasants, well..."

She chuckles at that and nods.

Just then Eliana appears, she is my other friend of course and I'm happy to see her out. I introduce the two and can already see the contrast. Fernanda, the social butterfly that she is, is already talking her ear off and asking questions about the city and Eliana mostly gives short and curt answers. Eventually, the sound of someone tapping on a mic saves Eliana because I can tell she is no fan of being interviewed.

The comedian? Imagine central casting is looking for "Everyman Comic" and you'd get this guy. Average build, frumpy clothing, and a face that suggests he was observing life from the margins. His material was predictable but it is that familiarity that helps connect with the crowd, what little there is, along with perfect timing I suppose.

"Can you believe I'm getting ghosted by my therapist? Yeah, no yeah, seriously. She said if I ever tell her another one of my jokes she would never see me again..."

There were a few chuckles at that, just a few, I wonder if it was his dry tone of voice that prevented more or perhaps that was just his style? I'm here to learn, at least that was the plan, but I forgot I had brought Fernanda here who has issues keeping quiet.

"So, what are my chances of getting in the next Marble Cinematic Universe movie thing?" she jokes, because I think she's here chasing dreams too.

"Slim and none, you're not getting in over me!" I tease.

"No? Well, does a cheap copycat porno count?" she asked laughing but the joke brings a bit of color to Eliana's cheeks. There was a hint of seriousness to her tone that I felt I had to address. Just to be sure.

"Fern, please tell me you're not here for that-"

She waves away the idea with a giggle and a shake of her head. "Oh Watcher no! But you wouldn't believe the offers I've gotten."

"Oh yes, I get these weekly," Eliana chimes in, quietly of course. "I'm told I could make millions."

Fernanda took a moment to look at her and just nodded her head. "Yeah, I think you could honestly."

I hold my tongue because I doubt Eliana could. Sure, she would make a lot of simoleons from it but knowing her temperament that kind of industry would destroy her mentally. That kind of thing is only for a particular kind of woman, if you know what I mean, and I would be so disappointed if Eliana flirted with it. So instead of just saying she can't I add; "She's a model! A pretty good one at that, I imagine her modeling aspirations will go up in smoke if she does that."

"Uh huh," Fernanda adds lazily. "That's the kind of thing that sticks to you permanently."

We do get on to talk about Marco because of course Fernanda asks if I've met any men since arriving here and he pops up. I then tell her the whole story, both of the women intently curious about how I was in a music video and how I end up on his massive patio and in his hot tub. Fernanda's reaction was immediate.

"So, you really just left him there? Blue balls and all?" She taunts. "Ouch, I feel like if you get an opportunity with a man like that, you take it."

"Y-yes but," Eliana cautiously cuts in. "F-famous men in this city often treat dream chasers as entertainment. T-they have their fun and move on." I wonder if Eliana speaks from experience? If so, I would love to have a word with the man who thought of her as only entertainment for a night.

"Yea, yea, maybe," Fernanda concedes, kinda. "Has he called you back or-"

"Yes, actually, he called me earlier! We've been in touch, casually at least."

"Oooooooo," Fernanda starts, whooping it up. "You might be climbing more than career ladders!"

That gets us both laughing, maybe she should be up on that stage instead of...umm, I didn't even catch his name

"I really hate laundry, who here does their own laundry...yep, see, exactly. Can you believe it, I have forty pairs of socks and none of them match? Maybe my washer is a portal to another dimension, either that or my socks are beefing. Now I just throw them all in there together, fuck it. Lights, darks, emotional baggage, I'll let the machine sort it all out..."

I laughed, a little bit, okay, more than the last one at least! At the end of the day, this guy, whatever his name is, he's not so different. He's here chasing a dream too. Who knows, maybe one day we'll be in the same cast?

Index ~ Next

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 5 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #magdalena monteros #marco aparicio #fernanda guzman #eliana nores #dante duran

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 14 hours ago

Note

I would like to know more lore about your new Wizard Stan please

(I'm a sucker for anything related to Ford Having A Bad Time™ and a new magic system (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠))

Thank you for the interest into my newest au child. They were dropped at my doorstep after their parent threw me into a plane.

Hmm. Lets see.

So wizards are ridiculous here, its a title for crazy guys in robes who act mysterious. Magic is partially about know what your doing and feeling what your doing. Anyone can do magic, but a wizard is someone who understands that they truly don't know what they're doing. Magic isn't science, it's ever changing and bends depending on who or what its working with. A wizards spell book is them writing down magic as they understand it, and thats why deciphering another wizards spells are difficult. They have to translate one magic system into their own and understand what it means from that.

Its also a living thing. As long as the spell caster can come up with a reason their spell should work and feel confident that it will then thats that. Thats now how that spell works for that person. Stan's a wizard because the previous owner of the tower recognized Stan's talent for bsing his way through life and lying would make him an excellent spell caster, and his ability to not concern himself with what everyone else is doing and staying in his lane a great wizard. Stan didn't know any magic but thats easy enough to fix, he already knew he knew nothing after all, and once Stan gets going magic likes him so much it works with him barely doing anything.

Anyone can cast a spell, a wizard is someone who can do it with flair, style, and by knowing that you have to look ridiculous to be cool. Its a title for those ready to take on the mysteries of the universe and know that its an answer for themselves. Like a whispered secret.

Ford is not a wizard, because he is a scientist. Sure he's looking into the mysteries of the universe, but then he's writing it down and is under the impression that there's only one right way to do magic. He's trying to make sense of it like it has hard rules, can be replicated over and over the same way by everyone, and that it follows the same laws as the rest of reality. He's too inflexible and rigid about it. He's not ready to strike a cool pose on a mountain side and yell at the top of his lungs a bunch of lies about spirits that so convincing it becomes real. He's too much a nerd and rule stickler.

Plus he doesn't have a tower. All wizards have towers. He has a house. They'll call him a witch at best. Until he's ready to live in a tower as an apprentice or build his own magic tower he doesn't qualify. Wizard 101 here, you need a tower.

Fords has a house, he's not going to build a tower or move somewhere else. He already knows so much about magic! Can cast incredibly complex spells! He's doing what everyone else is doing! Let him be a wizard!

(He's thinking gandalf wizardry, not Adventure time Wizardry. His drama is too sci-fiy and dramatic in serious ways, he is not ready to be the Tim from monty python and the holy grail. He's not wearing a funky hat or gluing stars to bathrobes either. Wear a funky embarrassing outfit if he wants to get serious)

(i can very easily imagine Stan wearing a funky bathrobe with stars and scurring around yelling fake prophesies at people. Ford's a little harder, but he could. He just has to accept his inner gremlin)

Stan becoming a wizard before casting his first spell is salt in the wound. It gets worse when he starts getting treated like Stan did when they were kids. Stan does some funky spell with no prep and is pure nonsense and is getting praised by all the old wizards, then they turn around and roll their eyes at Ford and shake their heads. Everyone's praising Stan, is impressed by his tower, want to go do secret wizardy things with him, and Fords just his tagalong now. Ford is the plus one here, Ford is the extra Stan, the one who's just a boring version of Stanley.

Stan's not saying that though! Stan's excited to include Ford (Ford loved to share his books) wants to show off all the magic stuff (Ford loved showing off cool physics tricks he learned), show him around his tower (Ford would drag Stan to science events), just wants to hang out! (Ford loved playing with Stan, until his school work started taking priority).

Ford goes home at the end of the day and tries to process what all these feelings me. Stan's immature and a cheat and lied his way into wizadry, but-

but.

Ford is now standing in Stan's shadow. Every day Stan's doing more and more impressive spells for someone who's been doing it for maybe a month. He's a genius when it comes to magic, and no matter how hard Ford tries he can't get the same recognition in the wizard community. It shouldn't bother him, he excels in other places, but it does.

He doesn't like getting compared to his brother. He never has been, not like this. A wizard tells him he can go study fairies in the woods with the same tone their principle said Stan could scrape barnacles and it makes him feel even more emotions about it. And Stan's only being somewhat boastful about the whole thing and Ford just feels so many emotions about it it spills out as anger whenever Stan shows off how much better he is at magic.

Just Ford not knowing how to process the feeling Stan's felt his whole life while Stan's just waiting for everyone to realize they got the wrong twin. Stan's loving the wizard life and messing with Ford a bit but he also doesn't know how to handle a whole set of people who prefer Stan over Ford.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #stan pines #ford pines #wizard stan #gotta create a whole system to explain why fords not a wizard #and how wizards can just pass the title to some guy #so here we are #in silly wizard city

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midnight1nk · 19 hours ago

Text

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

Another week has passed and a brand new episode's out YESSS!!! Yall already know I'm always up for my Saturday Morning Cartoon (TM). Let's see what we got this time—

*dramatic gasp*

......chat, is it arc time? Has the math finally come to this?? (moot, you might've actually called it fr)

(the following is my live reaction:)

That's-a so nice! haha, how can I not love the intro :)

OH Meggy, you good? I certainly didn't expect it to start like this

it kinda reminds me the start of "Enough is Enough" ngl (let's just hope nothing terrible happened)

wait, was the last episode the actual start? Or is it this one? 🤔 Well, either way that was pretty good to bring her job searching back. And seamless from the silly episodes if this one was the start

ah yes, experience.... *job war flashbacks*

"lab rat assistant" and that's the lesson for the day, folks: always read the fine print

LOBOTOMIES?! 😦 we already had one of the Crew go through that, Meggy. Let's not.... we gotta go.... *tiptoe toward the exit*

when I said I love found family, I didn't expect this. welp, E Gadd's her grandpa now 👍

good question :) (<- also said by E Gadd, most likely)

also also *WHEEZE* I shouldn't be laughing and that bit shouldn't be as funny as it should be, but it got me. Dementia -> forget what the test was for, that was good

an awfully large remote, that is

HUH???!?!?

wha... how... huh???? I mean, I know it's E Gadd's inventions and all, but can they actually co-exist?

aw Leggy misses Puzzles, huh

🫵 WOTFI '24 AND MEMEWAVE FLASHBACK

huh? why can't she stand up?

Leggy's stronger?! well, didn't expect that tbh

EMERGENCY MEETING 🚨

ay, the star trio's here!!!

can we just take a second to appreciate this? :)

and it certainly reminds me of a certain AU hmmm

Mario: "That was easy!" You can say that again, dude

4, hun, love you and you're one of my fave characters however uh. you haven't exactly been gentle with Leggy, given the previous times. With kids, oh yeah dad mode. With Leggy, wellll *shrug*

THAT POV THO *WHEEZE*

I'm making a gif outta that

aw 4, you tried

dang, that was pretty good, 3

weakness, huh? *sees the ramen* fair enough (<- is broke college student)

this frame means everything to me:

also the fact 4 does the bare minimum taking care of himself but more concerned for his friends instead......

those handcuffs aren't gonna work, bro

oh hey, Bob! any crimes today :D

she pulled off a Snoopy haha

Mario spacing out for a sec is such a mood

BOOPKIN'S OLD MODEL

waitwaitwait, hang on a second....

purple subtitles? *looks at you* purple?

(eh, I'm sure that's an editing mistake but. purple? 👀)

wha. Puzzles?

DANG 4, that was a pretty good voice impression ngl

alright first off, to get this out of the way: two sides, same coin

and two: very interesting that each 4 and Puzzles have a black and white view of the other, when they're said coin. They share many parallels and probably if circumstances align, they would've come to an understanding. Would they tho? As things stand now, not likely

Honestly, that's reasonable and I love that we're getting to address this for her

a tv station? you don't say 👀

that door's familiar (no, not the boarded-up one in the Castle. From WOTFI '24 arc)

Meggy: "I don't plan on fighting. But I have to do this." Nah, she's right! Leggy's a part of her, she has to deal with this herself

that little animation bit of the star trio taking a step back, it's so silly to me :)

well, same dartboard where Puzzles last left it, just less sharp things

👏👏👏

This, right there, I love it!! Things aren't as black and white, things are left unaddressed. Just as the rest of the Crew has, Meggy went through so much and isn't able to acknowledge it, accept it. Whether the circumstances didn't let her or did it herself intentionally, she's suppressing it. Like she said, this isn't a fight. And I find it interesting that this conversation feels like an adult explaining thing to their child. Not saying that it is, Meggy and Leggy are one of the same, but it is bringing terms into an understanding. Especially with our own conflicts, I'd say this is pretty natural. (<- I'll talk about this more)

🫵 LAWYER MEGGY MENTION (sorry, ace attorney brain go brrrr)

Hmmm, okay. I can already sense a bad feeling about this. She did say she'll consider it tho, that doesn't automatically mean she's all onboard

She's whole again, YAY!!

ofc 4's freaking out about this deal

I feel like this convo is gonna come back somehow

:O This screenshot says a lot

"Fruity personality" Alright, how many of you posted this? Also, the one in the Team who decided to add this, c'mon 'fess up too. Either way, glad we're on the same page and by the end of pride month no less. I mean, it was pretty obvious

also I'm going to be analytical about these charges there in a second

Hold on, is it just me or is Meggy's gasps a bit pitched up like Leggy's? They're the same person, yes, but I still got questions

Wait, did Meggy not know? Definitely knows that Puzzles' in jail but not the sentencing?

And that cut to black is how y'know it's an arc

Congrats to MovArtss for your art being featured at the end credits 🎉 look at the Crew :D

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Well, chat, looks like we're officially entering an arc! Y'know what that means :) a bunch of teasers, theories, and ofc bingo AAAAAAA I'm so hyped!! This was a really episode and while it was short, I very much enjoyed it. Team, as always, incredible work. The writing, dude, oh that was great.

Now, yall remember when I said I had a bad feeling? I could sense that the fandom would have mixed reactions about the end there. It's only natural that I would be aware of it, being my role and all, and I thought I should give my two-cents:

Some aren't happy at the fact that Meggy's getting another arc, others more so at the fact that she would agree to do the deal. I could sense the torches and pitchforks coming for me, but I'll say it: I think this arc is necessary for Meggy.

And some of you might be thinking, "didn't Meggy say in WOTFI '24 that Leggy's gone? Why did they have to bring her back?"

Well, I can only explain it in the only way I know how, through my terms: If you think about it, this is the goop!4 but for Meggy.

Just as 4 has the goo, Leggy never truly left. Leggy is the physical manifestation of her flaw: seeing the good in people and bringing justice. She always had this flaw but it has a form now. While the flaw itself is not a bad thing, it doesn't necessarily mean it's good either. It's learning how to manage it, know when it's right to act upon it. For Meggy tho, this would be the challenge for her. Follow my train of thought here:

(1) Leggy is a side of Meggy she's yet to connect with. The previous times, Meggy and Leggy exactly don't correlate with the other. Meggy's only been able to see some of Leggy's memories, but not the other way around. The switch up between forms only really happens through force, never voluntarily.

(2) According to this episode, only the Meggy part of the whole experienced the harsh stuff and therefore she can't fully move on without Leggy. Like I said before, Meggy's suppressing her trauma whether she does it intentionally or circumstances aren't letting her process it. If her suppression is influencing her flaw to the decisions she makes, Leggy would naturally refuse to accept that Puzzles isn't as good as he seems. Again, Leggy doesn't see Meggy's memories. In order for Meggy as whole to move on, she would have to process her trauma -> challenges her flaw/accept the truth -> Can finally move on. It's why I thought it was good to have a scene of Meggy trying to explain things with Leggy.

(3) Meggy's reaction to Puzzles' sentencing is very interesting to me bc how much did she know before? The basic level is that she knew he was in jail and hoped he would get some help, but to what extent was she aware of the conditions he was in? Did any of the Crew know? That's the question isn't it, huh.

(4, and let's just hope tumblr doesn't shut this post down) Speaking of sentences, I'm assuming the list of charges at the ending were the ones Puzzles was convicted of, as in guilty. Legally, I have to say that I am not a criminal justice lawyer and whatever I say isn't 100% correct. That being said, I'm gonna overanalyze a cartoon when it's absolutely not necessary :D

if my observation isn't correct, a few charges were left out such as kidnapping and second-degree murder. It could be that the court has decided to not go along with these charges due to the lack of evidence or word of the jury. As for the sentencing itself, I truly can't give a number as it depends on factors such as: on the country these crimes were committed, severity of each charge, court proceedings, and the judge themselves. And ofc, no one knows Mushroom Kingdom law (in a digital world where death isn't the same as ours, mind you), so I wouldn't pass by them to give Puzzles in death row. At the very least, he's sentenced to "life in prison".

As silly as the SMG4 universe is, the justice system's pretty iffy (terrible even). Ace Attorney, is that you? No law is perfect but it's really telling that Meggy, someone who learned from said system to become a lawyer, to be shocked at Puzzles sentence. Well, for all we know, her reaction could be that the sentencing doesn't line up with the charges, or she didn't know about the conditions itself. And what exactly happened in the beginning of this episode? She didn't read the fine print. Hmm, it's too early to jump to conclusions.

(5) Meggy, and by extension the Crew, doesn't know what we know. Hell, we don't even know what the Team plans. The Crew doesn't know Puzzles recruited WPNZ and plans to break out in order to execute his revenge plan. We don't even know if Puzzles is in his cell rn. And this is definitely going to be brought back somehow.

Hopefully my train of thought made sense. Now, does her reaction automatically mean Meggy forgives Puzzles? No. Does it mean Puzzles would redeem himself? Not now, at least. I could sense that this arc would touch upon the redemption topic, just as I talked about it in previous posts. Meggy already tried persuading Puzzles to redeem in WOTFI, he refused. It's gonna happen again but with some major consequences.

If I could imagine a scene, here's how I see it: as part of the deal, Lawyer Meggy would meet up with Puzzles. Naturally, he's not going to be happy to see her, WOTFI '24 being some sort of betrayal, and might even be confused why she's here if the Crew seems overjoyed leaving him here. She might explain what her reaction was all about and why she's here with him. This time, there's no WOTFI or super abilities. Face to face, just as civilized and ordinary they can be. Besides, she would have questions of her own and there's no point in fighting to hide the truth now, is there? At a certain time, she might propose a deal that she would review his case in exchange for something from him in return. Perhaps some form of jail therapy or something, whatever it may be that Puzzles wouldn't go after the Crew again. Puzzles could outright refuse but it would be interesting to see him contemplate it and stay silent. Maybe Meggy would ask lastly before leaving, if he had any regrets, and even then he wouldn't answer. Leggy, perhaps optimistic as a voice inside her head, might think Puzzles would accept bc he's good. But they don't know what we know, that Puzzles recruited WPNZ and is all set on revenge. After all, it's on thing to receive help, it's another to accept it. "I have to change" versus "I want to change". He'll break out, his way of refusal, and Meggy might take his decision as final bc it's not like she can force him. Even if she knew what Puzzles went through. Who am I to say? I simply could see this prison breakout being a major turning point for Meggy and confront her trauma. Also having potential to explore more of Puzzles' past.

In short, for the regulars here, this is if redemption talk was explored in an arc, which I'm all for it.

Anyway, all this is why it took a while to get this review out there. Was any of this what the writers intended? Probably not. But I wanted to be careful how to word what I wanted to express, so I hope what I said is understandable. I might talk more about redemption in another post. Regardless, I know not everyone's satisfied with this but please don't go after the writers/Team. The arc just started after all, have a bit of grace for them. As I like to say, LET THEM COOK!! Anyway, that's all from me. I'll see you all on the next one and remember: numbers always go first!!

Welp, looks like writer me got carried away again. Whoops. But wouldn't y'know it? LAWYER MEGGY IS BACK YESSS!! I wished for that to come back for so long 😭 Also unlike Meggy, 4 isn't as willing to face his problems. He ain't even looking at them. As evident, goop!4. His turn will come, I'm sure. Hmm, but now that I think about it. The Crew now knows about Puzzles' hideout, he might need to find a new one if he's gonna be careful with his revenge plan. New building perhaps.....

Really tho, purple subtitles? 🤔

#smg4 #smg4 spoilers #ink reviews #purple..... 🤔#also WHAT?!?!!#(we might actually get things come “full circle :O)

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lou-struck · 2 days ago

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Blackberry Blushes

Shinsuke Kita x reader

W.C- 2.1k

~ Shinsuke is at your door ready to pick you up for your dinner date with a gift. Little did he know you have one for him as well.

a/n: I've been out with a cold the last few days and am working through things the best I can. I should be starting my new job pretty soon but things have been a bit wild.

Despite the fan above working overtime, Shinsuke can still feel the warmth radiating from the oven as he paces circles around the Kitchen, his phone snug between his shoulder and his cheek as the man on the other end of the line gives him some questionable advice.

“Are you sure this is an appropriate gift for them, Ushijima-san?” He asks again, fiddling with his fingers. Although the two had rather limited interactions in high school, the two former Captains have formed an unlikely friendship over their love of hard work and the outdoors. “I’ve heard of giving flowers and chocolates before a date but this is new to me.”

“I believe this will be even more appreciated,” the Wing Spiker says. Shinsuke notes that the edge of softness in his friend’s tone seems to be used only when speaking of the person responsible for that thick gold band around his ring finger. “When I did it, I got them a bouquet of peaches.”

“I see.” The grey-haired man smiles, his heart thrumming in his chest as he imagines giving you his gift. “Then I shall follow suit and hope for similar results.”

The rain is great!

It waters plants, makes the air smell fresher, and creates some top-tier white noise to fall asleep to.

But now…

This surprise rainstorm that somehow evaded every weather forecast has flooded the park, carrying away the wooden stage and several of the vendor stalls that were set up for tonight's outdoor concert series. Watching what was supposed to be the site of your date tonight with Shinsuke Kita float away on the news was entertaining for a moment but now you stare down at your blacked phone screen wondering if this is a sign from the universe that you aren't ready to take this step.

Your stomach twists and curdles from the acidity of your nerves. Dating is rough, especially now in the age of social media. But finding someone as kind, hardworking, and drop-dead gorgeous as Kita makes you feel as if you have struck gold.

Not to mention old people love him which means he is just waving those green flags for all to see.

Your heart races at the thought of his sunny smile or his soft laughter when you stumble through an awkward joke or cheesy pun. Your ringtone slices through your thoughts as his number flashes on the screen. You nearly throw yourself off the kitchen counter as you lunge to pick it up.

“Hello? Y/n?” Just the sound of his voice is enough to make you go weak in the knees. “ I just wanted to call ahead to see if you would still be interested in going out tonight? I know the weather isn’t perfect. But a friend of mine has a restaurant downtown that I would love to take you to instead of the park~”

“Yes!” you say with an almost panicked eagerness. Missing out on someone like him would be a huge mistake. Your cheeks burn as your brain buffers, trying to figure out what to say next.

“That’s great,” he says, and you swear you can see his soft smile through the speaker. “I’ll pick you up around 6” There’s a pause. “I am really looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

“Me too,” you murmur, barely containing the bubbles of excitement building up inside of you like a shaken soda can. “See you then.”

“You can count on it,” he says as the line goes dead. Leaving you alone to crack the can. Your heartbeat soars to join your head in the clouds.

How can another person make you feel this way?

Falling into the couch, you glance over to the clock on the wall. It’s only 10 in the morning. If you don’t find something to keep you busy, you are going to spend all day thinking of tonight.

And as it has been explained to you, overthinking is dangerous.

You need a distraction, or at least a way to cool off.

Rocking yourself to your feet you walk over to the back door leading to your garden. Through the glass, you notice that the rain has slowed to a barely there drizzle. Not wanting to let the rain dictate every part of your day, you slip on your gardening shoes and step out into the fresh air to check on your garden.

Shoes crunching on the darkend pebbles, you walk through the rows of green reaching toward the sky, drinking up every bit of Mother Nature's gift. Their vibrancy brings a smile to your face as you walk, checking for any intrusive weeds or signs of sickness.

It’s then when you see it, a vine from a blackberry bush encroaching on your little pumpkin patch.

Rain or not, you know you have to do something. Those vines can cause major damage if they are allowed to grow so you put on your heavy-duty gardening gloves, grab your tools, and get to work destroying the plant.

You follow the prickly vine to source because there is never just one, it twists and turns leading you behind your garden shed where you come face to face with the mother of all thorns.

Sure, life has been busy lately. But how the hell have you managed to miss Mt. Blackberry growing behind your cute little shed?

The tangle of half-living, half-dead vines climbing on top of eachother is almost too overwhelming to touch.

Emphasis on almost.

Especially when you see that many of these bushes are bearing fruit. The plump little berries look like they would make the most amazing jam. The sidequest in front of you is the perfect distraction for this afternoon.

Circling back to your shed for a large bucket, some heavy-duty pruners, and some thicker gardening gloves, so you can take down this enemy and enjoy the spoils of war.

With the monster defeated, it is unclear what you have collected more of, blackberries or thorns in your skin. The bushes that have invaded your yard fought valiantly but you managed to take them all down.

As you look at the gaping hole in the dirt, you know any weeds will think twice before trying to grow back in that spot. The rain has taken it easy on you so far, it’s misty droplets ceasing for the majority of your project. But now, its dark clouds loom threateningly above your head, urging you inside to work on your next project.

It’s gonna be a jam!

It’s been a few hours of distracting hard work and you have made enough jam to feed an army, or at least a professional sports team.

Very carefully you pull the last batch of mason jars from the vat of boiling water, tapping your finger against the seals to make sure they are all set and ready to go.

The assembly of jars surrounds you, taking up all the space your kitchen has to offer, the dark berry hues bathe the room.

Isn't there something you should be remembering?

Lifting your sugar-dusted phone screen you start to double-check the steps from the recipe you had pulled up earlier. In the top corner of the screen, you spot the time.

5:45

Shinsuke….

Shit!

He’s coming to pick you up in fifteen minutes, looking down at your berry-splattered t-shirt, you look an absolute mess.

Letting out a screech that would make pterodactyls jealous, you rush around the house getting ready in record time. Hopping in the shower with a toothbrush in one hand and a loofah in the other. As you scrub and brush, your skin stings as you run the suds over where the blackberry bushes fought back.

With no time to dry yourself properly, you resort to a towel pat-down and shimmy combo that, despite making you feel like a dog, works far better than you thought it would. With just minutes to go, you fix the buttons on the shirt you chose and force some jeans over your kinda damp legs.

Your rapid movements are halted by the sound of polite rapping on your front door.

He’s here…

Time slows down as you become all too aware of how fast your heart is beating. Passing the kitchen, the sea of jars catches your eye. It’s funny how what once was a sense of accomplishment can quickly turn to shame.

You made way too many. What the heck are you going to do with all of these?

Looking between the jars and the door a thought pops into your head.

Would it be weird if you gave him one?

Maybe…

But there is something in your gut telling you to give it to him. Grabbing one of the cooler jars on the far side of the countertop, you are relieved to see that the jam has set nicely and the seal is still perfectly intact.

The floor beneath you seems to warp as you take slow, uneasy steps toward the door. Your hand shakes as you grab the handle and give it a twist.

But the minute you open the door, the world returns to normal when you see Shinsuke standing there. His hair, damp and darker as a few droplets of rain trail down his features and cling to his shoulders as you spor In his hands you spot a mysterious, paper-wrapped bundle tucked into his tan corduroy jacket.

He greets you with a perfect smile as he clears his throat.“Hello y/n,” he says with pink cheeks. How cruel of you to make him wait outside for so long.

Is he not feeling well?

“Hey, I’m glad you made it,” you beam, opening your door wider to welcome him inside. “I hope you didn't get too cold waiting out there.”

He shakes his head as he steps across the threshold. “Not at all, if anything the rain felt wonderful. My plants must be loving it.” You notice his attention drifting momentarily to the jam jar tucked under your arm.

“Oh, this is for you,” you say quickly, placing the jar in his open hand.

He takes it curiously peering at the wine-colored substance. “What’s this? Is this jam?"His features turn from surprise to a bashful red, almost as bright as the contents of your jar.

“It is. Blackberry actually. I made it this afternoon.” you say shyly, handing him the jar.

He looks thoroughly impressed with the fruits of your labor. And smiles gratefully. “Well thank you for this, this looks wonderful. I can’t wait to try this.”

“Thank you, I had some extra time on my hands today.”

“I know what you mean,” he says, shooting a glance toward the rain before turning his attention to the paper parcel he had brought with him. “Here, this is for you, I guess I also had some time on my hands.”

You take it and are surprised by the weight. It’s lighter than you thought it would be, with such a firm shape. Curiously you open the bag and pull out what can old be described as the most perfect sourdough loaf you have ever seen in your life.

“Wow. When it comes to gift giving, you win,” you say admiring the crispy, golden-brown crust and the magazine-perfect level of scoring. “I think this is the prettiest loaf I’ve ever seen.”

He laughs, “Well thank you. I picked up the hobby not too long ago so I still have a long way to go, but a friend of mine told me you may like it more than flowers.”

“This is way better than flowers,” you breathe. Despite being baked a few hours ago, the heavenly smell coming from the bread is heavenly and makes your stomach rumble to life. “Hungry?”

“A little,” you admit. “This looks so good, I could dig in right now.”

“It would probably be great with the jam you made earlier,” he says. And your eyes meet and you come to the same conclusion.

“You wouldn't want to just stay in tonight, would you?” you ask hesitantly. “Maybe we could eat toast, watch a movie?”

“I’d love that,” he says, already taking off his jacket.

You hold the bread loaf to your chest and start toward the kitchen gesturing for him to follow. As another idea comes to you.

Your smile grows wider, “Maybe if the rain stops I could show you my garden.

Shinsuke’s breath hitches at your words. And he won’t tell you till later, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to drop to one knee.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom @isaacdaknight @qardasngan @dog55teeth

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kita hq #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita #kita x reader #kita haikyuu #kita shinsuke #x reader

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thebatdadnomad · 2 days ago

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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕀 𝔻𝕚𝕖 𝕀𝕤 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Bruce Wayne & Everyone Summary: The death of your soul or the soul of a loved one? Choose now. "Mine." As you wish. AN: Bringing you some light angst w a happy ending :')

It was 24 hours to detonation when Bruce realised that there was a seemingly invisible, indestructible bomb attached to his body. One that couldn't be seen by cameras or mirrors in the early afternoon light. It should be fine. He'd had worse.

It was 23 hours to detonation when Bruce finished testing out all of his gadgets on the device with no result. Still, it was not like he was out of options, no need to worry Alfred, Tim, Damian, or anyone else in the manor about it.

It was 22 hours to detonation when he realised that this – continuously ticking bomb that only he could hear – was an alien invention, created to permanently separate the soul from the body without allowing it back into a supposed reincarnation cycle. It had caused five known sudden deaths and its origin was unknown according to a few heavily encrypted reports on The Watchtower’s database. He called in Zatanna.

It was 21 hours to detonation when the magician arrived and he told her about the device, intentionally hiding that it was a life-ending bomb. He didn't want to worry her; she wouldn't work to the best of her ability under that kind of stress. Regardless, Zatanna couldn't tell what it was, she couldn't even sense its presence, so she said she'd be back. But it was alright, he knew other magicians. Alfred was starting to get suspicious, but, by the end of the hour, his butler didn't say anything.

It was 20 hours to detonation when Bruce realised after Doctor Fate was not able to detect it either, that this wasn't exactly a magical bomb, but more so one made by good old scientists. Advanced, incredibly intelligent scientists. Now, Bruce knew he was good, better than good, but his brilliance was admittedly based in detective work and solving puzzles. Not in building and dismantling. So, if he wanted to disarm this bomb, he needed to take his evidence to the smartest and most trusted inventors he knew. He called in Toyman and the Atom.

It was 19 hours to detonation when Alfred brought in refreshments and confronted Bruce on this 'new case' that he was working on with a dry, knowing tone. After a bit of prodding, Bruce relented and told him about the otherworldly device stuck to his person, leaving out the bomb part of his explanation as the two geniuses said their thanks for the tea and gave him a look over.

It was 18 hours to detonation and Bruce was still being looked over by the pair of inventors. Their initial confident attitudes had diminished and made way for concern. He was not worried, though, he created their files. He knew about their achievements and growth potential in detail. If there was anyone who could locate, investigate and disable this bomb, it was them.

It was 17 hours to detonation when Bruce reconsidered his theory. Since they hadn't even been able to bring it out of whatever 'stealth mode' it was in to disarm it in two long hours. And to make matters worse, just before the pair left, Zatanna returned, bringing hope back into the cave. But after a hell of a lot of experimentation, the three of them still came up with nothing of note. No matter what, the device didn't budge to the 'physical realm' as she called it so Bruce just sent them all away. He then waited until Tim, Stephanie, Cassandra and Damain finished getting ready for patrol before continuing his research. Letting them know that something came up and hoping his cheeky children let it go. They did.

It was 16 hours to detonation when Bruce finally grasped that he was going to have to do some more active research. Had to ask questions, visit aliens who may have come into contact with this bomb or the bomb's previous victims. He couldn't just sit in front of his monitor waiting for information to drop into his lap, otherwise who knew what would happen to him? Luckily, Alfred didn't seem worried about Bruce anymore when he used the Zeta-Tube.

It was 15 hours to detonation when Green Lantern – Hal Jordan– and Orion offered their help. Again, not aware of the nature of the device, but happy to assist regardless. Mostly because they knew Bruce wouldn't ask for help unless it was absolutely necessary. Travelling to the planets in the solar system was ultimately a dead end, so they went elsewhere. All the while he was in a space suit, protected by Green Lantern's beams as the bomb protruded out of the front. It was incredibly disorientating.

It was 14 hours to detonation and they still came up short of any real answers. According to some beings both Orion and Hal knew, the bomb was not there. But he knew it was. He'd had a dozen check-ups from the magicians to suggest that he was as sane as he was before this bomb appeared. And while he might not have an impressive amount of sanity, it was enough to ensure that he was not seeing, feeling and hearing things. It was still ticking.

It was 13 hours to detonation when they were suddenly attacked by a group of Yellow Lanterns and had to fall back. Almost beaten by pure numbers. Using this as a sign, Bruce thought it best to return to The Watchtower. Insisting that blindly looking for evidence was going nowhere. But, it was really because he didn't want to put anyone else in jeopardy over his life. He was not that important. Once they returned to the tower, the two leaguers told him to call them again if he needed their help again. He wouldn't.

It was 12 hours in when Bruce started to tug at his black locks. What was he missing? What was this bomb? Had it been too premature to say that it wasn't an illusion? Or was he in an illusion? He ran countless tests regarding what he'd learned, contemplated calling the magicians and scientists in again for the second time that day. But without any new knowledge, he suspected they'd just end up wasting their time.

It was 11 hours to detonation when he felt the first urge to sleep crawl in. It was now the early hours of the night and he was suffering from jetlag from sudden space travel too, but all of that didn't matter. 11 hours was not a long time, he had to keep working. He had to keep trying. It was not that he cared too much about himself or his life. It was because of his family. He couldn't protect his family if he was dead. And Gotham and the league, of course. But mostly his family.

It was 10 hours to detonation when Bruce heard something deep in the pit of his mind. A low voice clear and smug as if telling him the following words was its most secret pleasure.

The death of your soul or the soul of a loved one? Choose now.

"Mine."

As you wish.

And after that short exchange, Bruce, dizzy and fatigued, decided to give up and let things be. He had tried his best, he truly had, but this was the confirmation that this bomb was meant to kill him, and so, he’d die. Because even if he was truthful and asked for help within the family, nothing would change unless he was willing to put them in harm’s way – which he wasn’t. He knew that now. So, Bruce, ever the practical man, thought about how he wanted to spend the last 10 hours of his life and headed down to the only 24-hour shop in Bristol with a genuine smile on his face.

It was 9 hours to detonation when Bruce laid everything out in his Wayne Enterprise office. He got everyone he loved's favourite snacks from the shop, made some postcards printed with his favourite pictures of them and him and was about to film personalised videos for each of them following his death. Of course, he already had a tonne of contingency plans and recordings for situations like these. But, for once, Bruce decided to do something spontaneous. To capture how he felt in the moment, now. Not what he had imagined he’d feel. So, instead of, "In the case of" these all begin with "I have 9 hours to live" and that, he found, felt right.

It was 8 hours to detonation when Bruce started deeply thinking about the people he loved. Alfred, his surrogate father who refused to abandon him. Dick, his inspiring son who was the first to show him the true meaning of happiness. Jason, his miracle son, who proved to him that love transcended life and death. Tim, his genius son who made him reconsider whether he was worthy to even call himself a dad. Damian, his serious son who made him proud just by existing. Cassandra, his only daughter who taught him what feeling healed through touch was like. Selina, the woman who accepted a broken man like him for who he was mind, body and soul like a fallen angel on Earth. Barbara, Stephanie and Duke who he loved just as much.

Bruce wanted to see them, but he knew how hard it was for them all to get a good night's sleep, so it was alright. He wouldn't wake them yet. He still had time.

It was 7 hours to detonation when he started to think about his parents. Wondering whether they would be proud of him for living the way he did, working the way he did, loving who he did and being who he was. He thought of going to their graves, but he just went there last week. Plus, they probably didn't want to see him with a bomb strapped to his chest. So instead, he went to the theatre room, put on a movie, The Mask Of Zorro, and cried the whole way through it. Holding his bag of snacks and postcards in his hand the whole time.

It was 6 hours to detonation when the sun slowly began to rise in the sky again as dawn broke. But the movie hadn't finished yet so it didn't matter and it did nothing to stop Bruce's tears.

It was 5 hours to detonation when someone creaked the door to the theatre room open. Expecting it would be Alfred and unable to hear much over the speakers, Bruce didn't bother to rub away his tears too quickly. But little did he know that the person paying him a visit was not his butler.

"Bruce?" Dick's melodic voice broke the silence of the room as the credits rolled, "I didn't think you'd be up already," he said, but Bruce heard the 'Why aren't you sleeping?' loud and clear.

"I wasn't on patrol," he reminded his eldest son, "So I got some sleep earlier on."

But Dick wasn't buying it as he walked closer and sat next to Bruce on the couch. Their years together told him otherwise. "Nope. I don't think you did."

Bruce sighed, lifting his hands up in surrender and Dick's eyes quickly latched to the bag that rustled in the action. Either not able to see his tear-stained face in the dim light or not simply commenting on it. Bruce predicted the latter. "Is this why? What's in there? Pain killers?"

The man actually laughed at that, much to Dick's visible surprise. "They're gifts."

"Gifts?" A slow grin grew on his son's face. "For me?"

"For everyone," Bruce corrected. "Including you."

"Aw, that's so sweet of you!" Dick exclaimed, taking the cereal bars out of the bag before finding a postcard of a young Dick swinging off of a younger Bruce's shoulders reading 'You're the best performer I’ve ever seen – Bruce'. "Woah!"

"I hope you like it."

From then on, it was all excitement and hugging and speculation as the others – Tim, Damian and Alfred – currently in the manor this weekend came in too. Entering curious about the noise and leaving with one of their favourite snacks and little compliments on the back of their respective postcards. It felt good to watch them smile so much over his random act of kindness. Bruce regretted not doing it more often. If only he had more time.

It was 4 hours to detonation when Bruce decided that he might as well seek out the others he wanted to give his gifts to like some dying Santa Claus dressed in a suit and tie.

Jason acted mad to see him outside of his apartment this early but still accepted his gifts with a small smile and Bruce couldn't help but give him a hug that the young man sort of returned. Barbara nudged him on the arm, reassuring him – and by that he meant teasing – that they wouldn't send him to a nursing home so there was no need to do this.

Stephanie was on her way to school but accepted it with just as much excitement as Dick had. Duke seemed embarrassed to receive his but made sure to say how much he appreciated it with a smile of his own. As did Selina. Though, Selina wasn't embarrassed, just confused as she pressed a huge kiss on his lips, touched.

Cassandra wasn't nearby, so he used his Zeta Tube to follow her tracker all the way to a public park somewhere in Hong Kong where she had been and handed the present over. And he could say with moderate certainty that he hadn't seen her grin as wide as he did then.

It was 3 hours to detonation when Bruce located the last two members on his list. Superman and Wonder Woman. The only leaguers that he could hesitantly admit to himself that he...loved, he guessed. In a platonic fashion. Neither of them were in the Watchtower at this time of day. But Bruce was sure that should he ask for Clark with enough pain in his voice, the man would find an excuse to leave his morning briefing early…He really didn't want to inconvenience them, but he was sure that this shouldn't be too much of a burden. He just...wanted to see them.

"Help me, Superman. I need help!" Bruce shouted, still in China with Cassandra who startled at his sudden yelling and even more at Superman who flew in a minute later and received a bag of pretzels and a complimentary postcard. Agreeing to take him to Diana as long as he let Clark hug him in return. Bruce allowed it. The ticking started to get louder as they flew.

It was 2 hours to detonation when Bruce got found out. After handing an overly grateful Diana her gifts in Washington DC where she had been and being escorted back to the cave by a beaming Clark before the man disappeared, Bruce found some of his family waiting for him. Mild worry on Alfred, Dick, Tim, Damian and even Barbara's faces. It made him sad. They asked questions about this 'device', but he brushed them off. Hadn't he managed to make them happy enough today? That was all he wished to do, but it seemed he had failed to do even that. Why were they acting like this? He only wanted them to remember the good times, not arguments such as these. Why couldn't he do anything right?

That was when the timer got too loud. Almost unbearable to the point that Bruce collapsed in pain at the thunderous ticking. Because no earphones, high speed or fingers in his ears could stop it. Tick, tock, tick, tock! Damn. He was going to die.

It was 1 hour to detonation when John Constantine, Zatanna and Toyman all appeared in the cave at the same time after having talked to each other about the mysterious case and realised the truth of what the device really was. John said that if they couldn't do it the textbook way, they'd do it by ear. That Bruce shouldn't give up. Revealing everything to his family who gradually became more and more infuriated once they realised what had been going on right under their noses. Jumping in to help in any way they could and pulled up his failed investigation and information on the topic.

But Bruce had no hope. He didn't want hope. He wished they could've just taken his gifts and left it at that. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick—!

It was 0 hours to detonation when the bomb went off and Bruce felt a dreadful piercing sensation in his forehead as his mind finally stopped ringing...John was frantically chanting as Zatanna activated some sort of field, Toyman was preparing for something. But all Bruce could see was his panicking children and loved ones. Some cried, some screamed, and others reached out to him. But he was not tangible anymore. He couldn't feel them. In fact, he felt himself drift outside of his body which tumbled onto the floor of the cave, he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

Until the magicians stared up at him – the real him, not his physical body – and started to yank him back. Put plainly, it was an excruciatingly painful ordeal. It felt as if they were trying to remove his toes from his feet, but all over. As if tormenting Bruce's nerve cells on a molecular level. And he couldn't help but let out a shout at every pull. But eventually…it worked and he awakened again in his own body. With no bomb, no fear and no more fucking ticking.

The bomb had finally detonated and yet the tears, the jabs, the hugs proved that he would live another day.

MASTERLIST

#tbdnm fic #batman #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #bruce wayne #enchanthings #batfam fanfic #dc fanfic #batman fanfiction #bruce and dick #temporary death

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callmebrycelee · 1 day ago

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9-1-1: FLASHBACK

I want to talk about an episode that isn’t particularly popular but it’s one of my favorite episodes because of how touching it is. So, today I will be reacting to the season three, sixteenth episode “The One That Got Away” which originally aired on April 27, 2020 on FOX. The episode was written by David Fury and directed by Millicent Shelton. So, hold on tight and don’t let this episode get away!

Recap

In typical 9-1-1 fashion, we begin with an emergency. A fire, to be more specific. I will admit, one of the things I found lacking about this show on my initial binge is the lack of actual fires being put out. Then an acquaintance of mine, a former first responder, explained to me that nowadays firefighters aren’t just fighting fires. They’re dealing with traffic accidents, rescues, medical emergencies, and hazardous chemical situations. Now that I understand that, it makes the moments where we do get an emergency involving a structure being on fire even more special. So, as I said, we have a fire. There’s a residential building on fire and we see the 118 working to both put out the fire and rescue occupants trapped inside. Hen tends to an elderly man named Anton (played by) who tells her he’s been experiencing nausea for several days. He tells her he’s been taking a lot of antacid. Hen believes Anton may have an excess of calcium in his blood, most likely due to an undiagnosed thyroid condition. Anton asks about someone named Gladys and Hen assures him she has her best boys looking for Gladys. Speaking of best boys, Buck and Eddie are looking for Gladys who is a deaf woman. They go up to the roof of a neighboring building and jump over to the building currently on fire. Buck repels down the side of the building and crashes through the window of her apartment. He gets her out of harm’s way and as they’re both repelling down the side of the building to safety, there’s an explosion. The explosion catches their line on fire and thankfully they land on the inflatable airbag below. Everyone is safe. Gladys and Anton are reunited. It’s such a sweet moment. Meanwhile, Hen and Chimney transport Anton to the hospital. A group of doctors and nurses on standby greet them at the door and Hen tells them about Anton’s potential thyroid condition.

Back at the station, Buck is in a celebratory mood and wants to go out. Unfortunately, the others all have an excuse not to join him. Buck is dejected but decided to go out anyway. He ends up at a local watering hole frequented by firefighters and strikes up a conversation with a retired firefighter named Red Delacroix (played by Jack McGee). Red reminiscences about the good ole’ days and says to Buck the only time he and his old unit get together is for funerals. Buck then learns Red never got around to starting a family because he was too consumed with the firehouse, being the best, and saving lives. Meanwhile, over at Bobby and Athena’s, the two enjoy a quiet, kid-free evening when Hen shows up unannounced. Hen tells Bobby she heard on the radio there was a fatality from the residential fire. She tells him the person who died was Anton. Bobby says he thought Anton was fine and Hen says he should have been. She tells Bobby that she gave the nurse at the hospital a full rundown on what was going on with Anton and suggested they do an EKG. Bobby tells her he will make a call. After making the call, Bobby says the official cause of Anton’s death was cardiac arrest. Hen is shocked by the news and tells Bobby she told the hospital staff that Anton might have hypercalcemia. Bobby suggests maybe they missed it because they were dealing with other patients from the fire. Hen is upset because she did her job, but the hospital didn’t do theirs.

Buck, being an absolute gentleman, walks Red back to his apartment. Buck sees a photo of Red’s old house – the Fighting 134 – hanging on the wall. Buck also learns that Red is the man’s nickname, and it was given to him because he was a bit of a hothead – much like Buck. The similarities continue when Buck notices a photo of a young Red with a woman. When he asks Red about the lady in the picture, Red tells him that’s the one that got away. Red says they were going to get married but she got tired of competing with the job. Red asks Buck if he has anybody and he says no. Red provides Buck with some sage advice. He says, “You can be the hero, save lives, but don’t neglect having your own. Last thing you want is to be at the end holding nothing but regrets.” Red’s words hit Buck like a ton of bricks. The next day, at the station, Buck tells the others about meeting Red. He tells them that all the guys from Red’s unit don’t talk anymore. Hen says that life gets busy and it’s easy for people to lose touch. Buck wonders if that will happen to the 118 and the others assure him it won’t. Eddie asks Hen and Chimney if they keep in touch with the old 118. Chimney says he spoke to Tommy the previous year. Eddie, again, assures Buck that they won’t fall out of touch, even if they retire or move to another firehouse.

We get an emergency involving a father and son. The two are riding a motorized scooter when a drone crashes in front of them causing them to get thrown from the scooter. Thankfully they are okay although the dad may have a broken arm. Athena arrives on the scene and speaks with the owner of the drone. He tells Athena the drone got away from him. A woman asks the owner, whose name is Jeffrey Hudson (played by Noah Bean) why he was flying the drone over her house. Athena tells Jeffrey it is illegal for him to fly a drone over private property. He tells Athena he’s a realtor and he was only trying to get aerial views of the home he is trying to sell. The woman tells Athena she knows almost everyone in the neighborhood, and she hasn’t heard of anyone selling. Jeffrey says the home hasn’t gone up on the MLS (multiple listing service) yet. Athena tells him that if he is using the drone for his job, it should be registered with the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration). She asks Jeffrey to see his remote pilot’s license which he doesn’t have. Athena has Jeffrey arrested for operating a drone without a license, trespassing and destruction of private property.

Over at the LAPD, Athena escorts Jeffrey into custody and turns over the broken drone to an officer. Meanwhile, Buck shows up at Red’s apartment telling him he found Cindy, the one that got away. Buck says Cindy is widowed. Buck throws Red’s words about not having regrets back at him and convinces him to go see Cindy. Red agrees to go visit her. When they arrive at Cindy’s home, Buck gives Red two tickets to the Dodgers-Mets series. They go to the door and Cindy’s caretaker Doris (played by Loren Escandon) answers. Cindy also comes to the door and appears to recognize Red. She invites him and Buck inside. Doris serves tea while Red catches up with Cindy. As the conversation progresses, it becomes quite evident that Cindy has some sort of dementia which is crushing for Red. She panics and starts asking about her husband. Buck and Red make a hasty retreat and the latter tells Buck they never should have come. The one lasting memory he had is now ruined. He tells Buck to stay away because he’s not sure he can survive with his help anymore.

Back at LAPD, the officer who Athena handed the drone off to reports finding something disturbing. Apparently, Jeffrey is a Peeping Tom and was using the drone to spy on women. Athena then learns Jeffrey has been released from custody by the Feds. Meanwhile, Buck speaks with Maddie about Red. Maddie asks if the situation with Red is reminding Buck of his own romantic life – or lack thereof. Buck thinks she’s being ridiculous. He then asks Maddie if she thinks he’s lonely. She tells him he stopped trying after Abby. She tells him she understands but he’s quick to remind her it’s him who always gets left behind – not her. In fact, Maddie is the one who always leaves. Buck assures Maddie he’s not mad. He tells her she doesn’t know what it’s like when people walk away.

We have another emergency. We see two chefs competing in a reality TV cooking competition a la Chopped. Chef Maurice (played by Jeff Blim) shakes a can of nitrous whipped cream, and it explodes. The spout the whipped cream is dispensed through gets lodged in Chef Maurice’s chest splattering whipped cream and blood all over the kitchen set. The 118 arrive and Hen and Chimney tend to Chef Maurice. Chimney says the whipped cream spout is millimeters from the chef’s heart. Bobby radios to the hospital to have surgeons on standby. During transport, Hen performs a thoracotomy much to Chimney disapproval. She puts her finger in his chest and keeps it there all the way to the hospital. When the ambulance arrives, a doctor (played by Joe Gillette) scolds Hen for performing the procedure. Hen accompanies the doctor and nurses into the operating room. Another doctor, Dr. Imelda Royce (played by Jessica Tuck) commends Hen for breaking the rules to save the chef’s life. The surgery is a success.

Meanwhile, Buck gets a call from Red who is in the hospital. Buck learns that Red has cancer. Buck, learning from his earlier mistake, simply asks if there’s anything he can do. Red asks if Buck can sit with him. Buck takes a seat and asks Red to tell him a story about his old house. The next day at the station, Hen sees a doctor’s coat hanging over her turnout gear. The others commend her for saving the life of the chef. Bobby congratulates her too and tells her never to do that again. Back at the hospital, Buck arranges for several firefighters to help him escort Red out of the hospital after he is discharged. It’s such a touching scene watching Buck help Red into the firetruck. Red is deeply touched by the gesture. As the firetruck drives off, Red salutes Buck. We then learn from Buck that Red dies. Maddie tells her brother he was a good friend to Red. She then says that Buck is nothing like Red. His life is not Buck’s life. His life is not Buck’s future. Maddie tells Buck the difference between he and Red is that Red didn’t have a sister. She says that she knows she left him behind twice but she came back. She pinky promises to never leave him behind.

In the final scene of the episode, Athena and Detective Lou Ransone (played by Sasha Roiz) go to Jeffrey Hudson’s home. Jeffrey has flown the coop but has left a lot of evidence behind. An officer finds a video of Jeffrey attacking a woman in her woman in her home. Turns out, Jeffrey Hudson isn’t just a Peeping Tom. He’s a serial rapist.

Observations

After the apartment fire, Buck wants to go out and celebrate. Everyone has an excuse as to why they cannot hangout; however, Eddie tells Buck he can come over and help him chaperone Christopher’s sleepover. I know I always have my foot on the neck of Buddie shippers, but I find this moment funny because at times it seems that Buck is only useful to Eddie when it comes to helping him raise his son.

The whole point of this episode is that Buck’s life doesn’t have to end up like Red’s. However, the two share a LOT of similarities. They both go by their nicknames (Buck and Red) instead of their actual names (Evan and John). They’re both adventurous and love being firefighters. They can fly off the handle at times. They both fell in love with red heads.

Speaking of Red Delacroix, this is not the first time I’ve seen his actor Jack McGee play a firefighter. I remember him from the FX show Rescue Me starring Denis Leary.

Buck is a great active listener.

I love any time Athena and Bobby dance.

Chimney mentions that he keeps in touch with Tommy, further proof that Tommy Kinard has always been around. Also, there’s no malice in the mentioning of his name which tells me that even though Hen and Chimney don’t check in with Tommy regularly, they have no ill-will towards him.

Bobby using the chainsaw made me so nervous especially since we can’t see the dad’s head.

Whenever Buck is really having a hard time, he typically goes to the women in his life. I love how candid he is with Maddie. It was important that he let her know that her abandoning him really affected him. I love their pinkie promise at the end of the episode. It’s not the last time we will see it.

Chef Maurice looks an awful lot like Chef Marcel Vigneron on Bravo’s hit cooking competition show Top Chef

The scene where Buck wheels Red out of the hospital always makes me cry. Seeing all those first responders, past and present, standing at attention is so beautiful. Buck is a good guy. Period. You can never make me hate him. Also, I love how the 118 showed up for Buck as well.

911 Lore

This episode marks the first appearance of Detective Lou Ransone played by Sasha Roiz.

This episode marks the first appearance of Jeffrey Hudson played by Noah Bean.

Hen’s medical intervention could’ve resulted in her being fired. Instead, it inspires a new career path.

Maddie left Buck twice – she left him when she left home for the first time and she left him again when she married Doug.

Now I hope you understand why this rarely talked about episode holds a special place in my heart. I love the friendship between Buck and Red. I wish they’d met sooner. I would’ve enjoyed seeing Buck explore a non-romantic relationship with a character outside of the 118 bubble. This episode, for me, is proof of why Buck is one of the best characters in the show. When he messed up, bringing Red to see Cindy, he did his best to atone for his actions. I love the sendoff he organized for Buck. It truly shows how caring he is towards those he cares about. I also love Hen’s story within the episode. Hen did cross the line helping the chef, but she ended up saving his life. I loved that the female doctor defended her actions. Her story is just a reminder of how female, most specifically Black women, are often ignored by their white male counterparts. Thankfully her 118 family is supportive of her. Lastly, Athena’s story is a setup for what will happen in the last few episodes of the season. I love that in this episode, which is very poignant, we get the origin story of perhaps one of the best villains of this show. Overall, this episode is top notch in my book. If I had to rank the episodes of this season, this one would definitely be in the top half. As for what episode I will be reacting to next. I haven’t decided. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see what happens on 911: Flashback. Until next time …

#abc 911 #811 abc #evan buckley #hen wilson #athena grant #bobby nash #maddie buckley #howie chimney han #eddie diaz #911 reactions #blw reactions #911 3x16 #oliver stark #911 flashback #angela bassett #aisha hinds #kenneth choi #jennifer love hewitt #peter krause

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