#THE STRONGEST - 7” x 10” -

[freshthoughts2020]

THE STRONGEST - 7” x 10” - 

[instructionsonback]

THE STRONGEST - 7” x 10” -

[choerrypuffs]

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him? 

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan. 

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.” 

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks. 

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were. 

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough. 

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.” 

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms. 

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents. 

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs. 

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.” 

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship. 

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him. 

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most. 

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man. 

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life. 

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else. 

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.” 

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?” 

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.” 

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.” 

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.” 

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house. 

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it. 

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass. 

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress. 

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking. 

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!” 

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.” 

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt. 

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches. 

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge. 

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…” 

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck. 

“Mark…and Y/N?” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck. 

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.” 

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel. 

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.” 

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further. 

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.” 

“Ask Mark,” is all you say. 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over. 

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated. 

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.” 

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched. 

You smile. 

part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month. 

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already. 

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home. 

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas. 

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―” 

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is. 

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously. 

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship. 

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan. 

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.” 

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress. 

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though. 

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her. 

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.” 

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!” 

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room. 

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you. 

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks. 

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects. 

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland. 

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues. 

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs. 

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―” 

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in. 

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier. 

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered. 

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree. 

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.” 

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?” 

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?” 

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing. 

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.” 

“So, what did he do?” 

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort. 

“What, he cheat or something?” 

“Worse.” 

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker. 

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.” 

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?” 

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key. 

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.” 

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him. 

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness. 

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.” 

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge. 

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge. 

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here. 

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.” 

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind. 

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.” 

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically. 

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.” 

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.” 

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.” 

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

.

.

.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you. 

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents. 

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working. 

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you. 

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face. 

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together. 

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you. 

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out. 

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers. 

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled. 

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks. 

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?” 

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing. 

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag. 

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?” 

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage. 

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss. 

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging. 

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face. 

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.” 

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.” 

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him. 

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!” 

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner. 

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye. 

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.” 

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you. 

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes. 

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time. 

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ll call an Uber or something.” 

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset. 

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in. 

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him. 

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?” 

“Me.” 

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.” 

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore. 

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise. 

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer. 

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him. 

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber. 

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body. 

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly. 

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing. 

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.” 

“Sorry. Please proceed.” 

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear. 

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice. 

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register. 

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.” 

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly. 

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away. 

“That is, until he met you.” 

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it. 

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck. 

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.” 

You smile. 

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.  

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark. 

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way. 

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up. 

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.” 

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.�� 

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him. 

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to. 

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet. 

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux 

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :(  ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

[strrykais]

ඞ control alt + love (📱, 📖)(M)

being a girl in the world of gaming is hard, that's why you've kept your identity a secret. after years of intense grinding, you have earned the title of the strongest mage player in the non-professional server. gaining the attention of an esports team they extend an invitation for you to join as their mid-solo.

having to overcome the fear of being a girl in the male dominated field, you come to learn maybe defeating boys - or specifically a certain boy - is something you could get used to.

gamer!seungmin x fem-gamer!reader

rating : (M) - mature

genre : humor, strangers to slight enemies to friends to lovers, esports au, slow burn

warnings : profanity, sex jokes, death jokes, gaming, mature content, fictional game, slight you x jeongin if you squint

notes : gonna be honest with you chat... i know nothing about esports but after further research i know just about the same as i did before research so :) also in this world the guys are very silly with their fans on twitter! inspired by falling into your smile!

status : finished

updates : n/a

taglist : closed

profiles (1) | profiles (2)

1 - that blonde lesbian 2 - playing dumb is hyunjin’s job (half written) 3 - mind your manners 4 - so far up their ass 5 - bullying kids on roblox 6 - put your boner away 7 - sad and wet rn 8 - im not bella swan 9 - lwk kinda sexual 10 - kitty whisper 11 - not a team player 12 - balls to the face (half written) 13 - sleep with jeongin 14 - trying to be marilyn monroe rn 15 - she gives crazy.. yk 16 - lets go home 17 - held at gunpoint 18 - douchebag jar 19 - seungmin is gonna have my ass 20 - i need you out there yn 21 - GAY FOLKS ONLY 22 - country bumpkin 23 - daddy is reserved for seungmin 24 - I HAVE SEX 25 - promise (written) 26 - shooters shoot 27 - you buffoon 28 - big booty bitches 29 - where do you want it? (written, smut) 30 - you wanking??? 31 - murder-suicide 32 - the girlfriend effect 33 - like a pixar lamp 34 - meow meow meow 35 - its going in my throat tonight 36 - ANVK's princess 37 - the trial of hwang hyunjin 38 - is friendly fire active yes or no? 39 - true victory 40 - always having a freak off

extras: 1. cant help myself

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Epilogue

[snail-day]

Get Ghost'd!

Sum: So you ghosted a guy that like really, really likes you, what could possibly go wrong?

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Choso

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Drugging, Stalking, Obsession, Kidnapping, Trapping, Manipulation) Slight wholesome fluff? Older woman (5-10 years) x Gojo, Noncon smooches (Gojo), The girls are around 7 in this so young cult leader geto (Not as deranged yet but getting there), Choso's is more crack (Todo is mentioned)

WC: 6.1K

A/N: I was just only going to do Geto...but then I thought about all the other JJK characters that would just go so crazy if you just ignored them. No Nanami, because he's a good man and would respect it if you ignored him.

Bold of you to assume you could just ghost the strongest-

Gojo Satoru had left his number for you.

He didn’t usually do that sort of thing—relationships were messy, and he simply didn’t have the time. Not with the weight of his responsibilities and the constant demands on his talent.

But then there was you, Megumi’s sweet next-door neighbor. The one who went out of your way to drop off food for the kids, who somehow managed to fold their laundry just the way they liked it. How could he not leave his number?

After all, he was the brat’s caretaker now, their benefactor. And, well, he could be your benefactor too, if you asked. Not even nicely—he’d do it if you so much as batted those pretty eyelashes at him and gave him one of those soft, shy smiles.

So why hadn’t you texted?

You had the time to make food for the kids. You had the time to do their laundry. But not even a reply for him? Not even a polite “Please don’t contact me”?

He tried to let it slide. Maybe you were nervous, unsure how to handle someone like him. He was Gojo Satoru, after all. But the more he thought about it, the harder it was to ignore the sting of your silence.

He wasn’t unreasonable—he understood the age gap might make you hesitate. He was freshly twenty, probably a few years younger than you. But honestly? That should work in his favor. How often does a hot, young stud go out of his way for someone like you?

You should be relishing in his attention. Cherishing the fact that he’d chosen you. Because let’s face it—you weren’t getting any younger. You should really consider settling for him.

No—scratch that. You should be grateful.

And yet, here you were, acting like he didn’t exist.

The knock on your door came late, almost too late for it to be anything casual. The soft thud echoed through your small apartment, catching you mid-step as you were putting away the last of the laundry.

When you opened the door, you weren’t prepared for the sight of him.

Gojo Satoru stood there, tall and imposing, framed by the dim glow of the hallway light. His white hair caught the faint light, tousled in that effortlessly perfect way. His signature round glasses perched low on his nose, revealing piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow, unblinking, as they locked onto yours.

His hands were stuffed casually into his pockets, his lean frame relaxed, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his easygoing facade.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice as light as ever, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You’ve been busy, huh?”

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden appearance. “Gojo? What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face, his impossibly white teeth gleaming. “Satoru,” he corrected. “I think we’re close enough for that, don’t you?”

You faltered, searching for a polite response, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“Not even a little text?” he continued, stepping just a fraction closer. “I left my number, you know. Thought it was pretty obvious I wanted to hear from you.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the doorway felt between you. “I’m sorry—I’ve been really busy with work and helping out with Megumi and—”

He laughed, cutting you off. It was light, almost playful, but there was something unsettling about it. “Oh, I know. You’ve been making food for the kids, doing their laundry, running yourself ragged for them. But for me?” He leaned in slightly, his height forcing you to crane your neck to meet his gaze. “Not even a second of your time?”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he said, voice soft but dripping with something you couldn’t quite name. “I get it. Maybe you’re nervous. Maybe you think I’m too young, or you’re just not sure what to say to someone like me.” His grin widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But you’re not avoiding me, are you?”

The way he said it made your pulse quicken.

“N-no, of course not,” you stammered, taking an instinctive step back.

“Good,” he said smoothly, taking a step forward as if he belonged inside your space. “Because I’d hate for there to be any misunderstandings between us. I mean, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

His gaze flicked over your shoulder at the neatly folded laundry behind you, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “All this running around for the kids? It’s sweet, really. But you should be taking better care of yourself, too.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his presence pressing in on you. “I… I’m fine, really. I just—”

“Just need someone to help you out,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to something softer, almost coaxing. “You do so much for everyone else. Don’t you think you deserve someone to take care of you for a change?”

There was a strange intensity in his gaze now, an undercurrent of something far more dangerous than his usual teasing charm.

“Satoru, I—”

“I could do that, you know,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingered, his long fingers trailing along your jaw just enough to make your skin crawl. “Take care of everything. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“Actually,” he cut in, his tone suddenly shifting, “I’ve been thinking. This arrangement? You here, me over there with the brats—it doesn’t make sense.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

He gave you a boyish grin, as if what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world. “We should live together.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. “W-what?”

“Think about it,” he said, stepping past you into your apartment without so much as a glance for permission. His long legs carried him casually across the room, but the tension in his movements was unmistakable. His sharp gaze darted over your space, the faint scowl on his face deepening as if your cozy apartment wasn’t quite up to his standards.

“You’re already taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki half the time,” he began, spinning around to face you, his white hair catching the dim light. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, their intensity almost too much. “And my life? Well, let’s just say it’s dangerous.”

“Satoru, I don’t—”

“You’d be safer with me,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now, the usual playful lilt missing entirely. “And the kids, too. We’d be one big happy family. You wouldn’t have to worry about bills or working yourself to the bone anymore—I’d handle everything.”

He said it like he was doing you a favor. Like it was something you should have already agreed to without hesitation.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you managed, your voice shaking slightly.

His expression twisted, the easygoing mask slipping entirely as frustration bled into his tone. “Why not? It makes perfect sense!” he snapped, his arms spreading wide in a gesture of exasperation. “You’re already basically living this life anyway, aren’t you? Cooking, cleaning, running yourself ragged for them. But when it comes to me? Nothing. Not a single second of your time!”

His words hit like a slap, the bitterness in his voice leaving you momentarily stunned.

“I didn’t ask for that,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Well, maybe you should have!” he retorted, his lips pulling into a sharp, mocking grin. “You’re fine on your own, huh? Sure, because that’s working so well for you. You think you’re being independent, but all I see is someone too stubborn to accept help—even when it’s standing right in front of you!”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his anger pressing down on you.

He laughed then, but it was humorless, the sound cutting through the air like broken glass. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that? You run around helping everyone else, but you can’t even give me a second of your attention. What’s the matter, huh? Am I not good enough for you?”

“Satoru, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he interrupted, stepping closer, his height towering over you as his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You want to talk about fair? I’m offering you everything—safety, security, a life, and you’re standing here acting like I’m some stranger asking for a handout!”

His words stung, his frustration bubbling over into something meaner, something sharper.

“I’m fine on my own,” you insisted again, though your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“No, you’re not,” he spat, his tone venomous now. “You’re delusional if you think you are. You’re just making excuses because you’re too scared to admit you need me.” He shook his head, his grin returning, bitter and condescending. “But that’s okay. I’ll fix that for you.”

Before you could respond, his hands shot up to cup your face, his long fingers curling just enough to hold you in place. His grip was firm, unrelenting, as his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

“Stop overthinking it,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, though his words felt more like a command than reassurance. “You’re wasting time. I know what’s best for you. And it’s me.”

You barely had time to gasp before his lips crashed against yours. The kiss wasn’t tender or affectionate—it was rough, forceful, and far too intense. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, cutting into the dryness of them causing a ting of blood to pool at the skin, the pressure somewhere between biting and bruising, as if he were marking you rather than kissing you.

Your hands flew up instinctively to push against his chest, but he didn’t budge. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip like iron. Every movement was desperate, consuming, and entirely unyielding.

“Satoru, stop,” you tried to mumble against his mouth, but he swallowed the words with another bruising kiss. It felt suffocating, as if he were trying to imprint himself on you—erase any thought of resistance.

When he finally pulled back, your lips felt swollen and raw, your breath coming in shallow gasps. But the worst part wasn’t the kiss itself—it was the look in his eyes.

They were bright, almost gleaming with satisfaction, but there was something beneath the surface.

He licked his lips, his smirk widening as he took in your dazed expression. “See?” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill down your spine. “You’re already mine. You just don’t realize it yet.”

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to step back, but his hands were still on your waist, holding you in place.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he continued, his tone almost soothing now, though it carried an eerie finality. “You’ll see. This is what’s best. For you. For the kids. For all of us.”

His grip loosened just enough for you to pull away, but as you stumbled back, his eyes stayed locked on you, sharp and unrelenting.

“And don’t even think about running,” he added, his voice soft but chilling. “You won’t get far. I’ll make sure of it.”

Because Gojo Satoru didn’t lose. And you weren’t going anywhere.

I think I may have just ghosted a cult leader, how fucked am I? 

Geto Suguru sat in his living room, legs tucked beneath the kotatsu table, where the twins lay watching Ponyo for what felt like the hundredth time today. The familiar opera intro played, but he barely noticed it, he had lost count of how many times he'd have to endure it. His sleek, dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, the ends brushing the fabric of his yukata, and a faint shadow from his sharp cheekbones danced across his face in the flickering light.

The DVD would end up in the highest cabinet soon, stored away with the Sailor Moon box set. Only to pretend later on that he has no idea of where the discs went, that the twins should really take better care of their things.

His tea sat untouched on the table, long gone cold as he stared at his phone. Three days since you’d last messaged him. Four since he’d seen you. His dark eyes, always so calculating and composed, narrowed slightly as he swiped through the unread threads of his polite but unanswered messages. He told himself it was fine, that you were busy, but the creeping unease in his chest said otherwise.

Being ignored was new to him, something he hadn’t experienced in years. Women had always sought him out, drawn by the quiet intensity of his gaze, the sharp elegance of his jawline, and the magnetic calm that seemed to follow him like a shadow. They threw themselves at him, eager for a glance, a touch, a word.

But you? You were different. Sweet, shy, and delicate. A part of him had loved that about you. Now it gnawed at him.

Had you used him?

The thought was intrusive, bitter, but it refused to leave. He’d erased your debt, lifted the curse that had plagued you, welcomed you into his home—and into his life. He’d done it all for you, because your smile had been enough. The way it softened your features and brightened your eyes—he couldn’t forget it. You made the darkness in his world feel lighter.

But maybe it wasn’t enough for you.

Maybe you’d only stayed because you owed him. Maybe, now that you were free, you saw no reason to stay.

His hands tightened into fists, the phone shaking slightly in his grasp.

Staring at his phone, he reread the messages he’d sent you over the past few days:

"Hope you got home safe." "The snow’s falling. The girls have been asking when you’ll come over for hot cocoa." "Good morning. Please eat well." "Did you drink water today?"

What he wanted to send was, "Was the kiss too much?"

But every time he typed it out, his thumb hovered over the send button before deleting it. He’d even tried adding an emoji once, only to groan in frustration. Giving up, he reached for the twins, pulling them into a big hug. Their squeals of delight momentarily distracted him as he tickled their sides before letting them go. They returned to their movie, leaving him on the floor, still staring at his phone.

Why did you look at him with those wide, innocent eyes when he cradled your cheek and kissed you goodbye? Why did you press your warm hands against his chest, trembling as you murmured, “We shouldn’t”?

We definitely should, was all he wanted to say.

He had wanted to kiss you ever since that day you ended up babysitting the girls in his apartment. The kitchen was filled with laughter as Nanako sat on the counter, mixing a bowl of cupcake batter, while Mimiko dozed in your arms. You worked together to bake cookies, the domestic scene so painfully perfect it left an impression he couldn’t shake.

You’d cook for him on nights when he came home late, too busy with cult duties to eat. Sometimes you’d bring a spoon to his lips, letting him taste-test your dishes, though they never needed anything. They were always perfect—just like you.

You should have stayed.

You should have realized how much he needed you, how much the girls needed you.

And yet, deep down, he knew why you might not.

You were a non-sorcerer.

The thought of it, the implications of it, only deepened his frustration. How could you fit into his new world—a world built to eliminate people like you? People who didn’t understand the true horrors of jujutsu, who were blind to the curses lurking in the shadows. His grand plan, his vision for a better, cleaner world, was supposed to make everything simpler. Sorcerers would rule, and the weak would fall away.

But you…

You were the exception.

Suguru hated that about himself, hated that he would allow one tiny thread to unravel the tapestry he’d been weaving. You didn’t belong in the world he was building, yet you were the one piece he couldn’t let go of.

How could he protect you in a world where the strong would reign? Where weakness—your weakness—would be punished?

The memory of your laugh cut through the haze of his thoughts. It had been so genuine, so sweet, so human. You didn’t belong in his plans, and yet you did. You had to.

Because without you, his grand vision felt hollow. Without you, there was only emptiness.

His jaw clenched as the realization solidified. You didn’t understand it yet, but he was doing this for you. For the girls. For all of them. But mostly, for himself.

He would protect you from the world he was creating. No one would touch you. No one would harm you. You’d live in safety, as his. His alone.

The phone screen lit up, mocking him with your silence. He could see when you read his messages. That was the cruelest part. You weren’t gone. You were ignoring him.

He rubbed a hand over his face, the smooth planes of his features momentarily obscured as he exhaled through gritted teeth. Maybe he’d been too soft with you. Maybe you thought you could just walk away now that the curse was gone, now that you didn’t owe him anything.

But you were wrong. You owed him everything.

The girls needed a mother. He needed you. The thought of you living a life without him, smiling for someone else, was unbearable. His lips twisted into a bitter smile as he typed out another message.

"The girls miss you.""I miss you."

Suguru’s thumb hovered over the send button, his jaw tightening as he debated. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he erased the message. Words wouldn’t be enough. Not anymore.

You needed a reminder.

He picked up his phone again, this time dialing. His assistant, Manami, answered on the second ring, her tone eager—too eager, though he ignored it. Manami had always looked at him in a way that suggested she wanted more than her job description entailed. A part of him in the past would humor the affection. Yet, now he has you. .

“I need you to watch the girls,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll be out for a while, picking up a... gift for them.”

Manami didn’t question him, though her tone softened, as though she thought he was doing something noble. If only she knew.

As he ended the call, his gaze shifted to the cult’s records, neatly organized and as precise as always. He was thankful for the meticulous documentation; it gave him everything he needed. Not just your number, but your address, your emergency contacts, your employment details—more than enough to find you.

Suguru let his fingers trace the edge of the file, his dark eyes scanning the information. Every detail about you, laid out in front of him. You had no idea how easily you could be found.

You could try to run, try to disappear—but you were his from now on.

Grabbing his coat, Suguru stepped out into the snow, the icy wind stinging his face. Words had failed; now he’d remind you. 

The soft glow from your apartment window illuminated the snow-covered street. He didn’t knock when he reached your door. He didn’t need to. The door yielded easily, and he slipped inside, the faint warmth of your home wrapping around him. The contrast between the cold air outside and the heat within was sharp, almost dizzying, but he welcomed it.

The sound of your soft, uneven breaths reached his ears before he saw you. There you were, standing in the kitchen, a cup of tea clutched in your hands. Your shoulders sagged with exhaustion, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on your forehead despite the winter chill. He noticed the trembling in your hands, the red tinge to your nose, and the way your other hand clutched at your chest when you coughed—a deep, rattling sound that made his brow furrow for a fleeting moment.

You looked pale, worn down, and fragile. For a moment, the sight almost softened him. Almost.

Almost made him forget why he was there. Forget the punishments he had planned. The ways he would teach you to never leave him again.

But that fleeting moment of pity was snuffed out as quickly as it came, replaced by a darker, more resolute purpose.

You had to learn.

You had to understand what it meant to belong to him.

Suguru’s fingers flexed at his sides, his mind racing through the plans he had already set in motion. He would remind you of his power—show you what a real curse user was capable of. That as sweet as he can be, he can also be cruel.

If fear wasn’t enough, he had other methods. He had already prepared the sedatives, carefully measured and tucked into his coat pocket. Once the fight left your eyes—and it would—he would take you home.

Home, where you would learn your role.

You would become the mother the girls needed. His law was absolute in their eyes, and soon it would be the same for you.

And if you resisted? If you dared to reject him, even after all he’d done for you?

Suguru’s lips twitched into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t want to think about that outcome, but he’d already considered it. Conditioned responses. Physical reminders. Unsavory methods. Honestly, he didn't want to hurt you. However, he needed you. The girls needed you.

No matter what it took, you would learn to stay. To belong.

Then you turned and saw him.

The teacup slipped from your hands, shattering against the floor. The sharp sound echoed in the tense silence that followed, but Suguru didn’t flinch. He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his expression unreadable.

“Ah,” he murmured, his voice soft and lilting, as though he were speaking to a child. “You’re sick.”

He stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate, and predatory. The sight of your wide, fearful eyes only spurred him on.

“Too sick,” he continued, his tone warm but laced with an edge of mockery, “to even send me a little message?”

You stumbled back, your breath hitching as you pressed yourself against the counter. Your pale skin, the feverish flush to your cheeks, and the way you clutched at your chest as another cough wracked your body only made you seem more breakable.

Suguru stopped just a few steps away, watching as you trembled, your fear and exhaustion painting you as something delicate—something his.

“You’ve been suffering all alone,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, soothing hum. He reached out, his fingers brushing your wrist before curling around it with surprising gentleness.

“But don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over your fevered skin. “I’m here now.”

He let his thumb stroke the inside of your wrist, his gaze unrelenting as his other hand moved to your cheek. The touch was soft, reverent even, but his dark eyes betrayed him, gleaming with something that made your stomach churn, something that sent shivers that weren’t from your cold.

“You’ve been making bad decisions, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet, though his words cut like glass. “Running yourself ragged. Avoiding me.”

His fingers tightened slightly around your wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough to make his control clear as you pathetically attempted to pull away.

“But it’s okay,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I’ll take care of everything now.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, his voice dripping with false kindness, “All you have to do is listen. Obey. I really didn’t want to have to go this route.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. His breath was warm against your fevered skin, his tone deceptively soft, as though he were doing you a favor.

You had never thought he was this interested in you. Suguru Geto was composed, almost aloof in how he carried himself—sharp features that seemed carved from stone, softened only by the flowing darkness of his hair. He had always been polite, controlled, and even gentle in his mannerisms, but you’d never felt singled out by his attention. Never thought the kindness in his deep, almond-shaped eyes was anything more than surface-level.

But now, as those same eyes pinned you in place, you realized how mistaken you’d been. His presence felt suffocating, the air between you charged with something you couldn’t name, and every movement he made was deliberate—calculated.

Suguru straightened slowly, his hand slipping from your wrist to his pocket, his movements unhurried and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. The room felt unbearably small under his presence, the heat of his gaze making your fevered skin prickle. His dark eyes never left yours, their intensity weighing down on you, as if he could see through the fragile walls of your thoughts.

When his fingers brushed the familiar shape of the syringe tucked into his coat pocket, his smile widened. It was subtle, almost imperceptible—a slight curve of his lips that revealed nothing of the storm swirling beneath his calm exterior. There it was—his failsafe. The assurance that you wouldn’t resist him any longer.

Your gaze flickered between his face and his hand, confusion and fear swimming in your fevered, glassy eyes. You wanted to protest, to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The trembling in your limbs, the bone-deep exhaustion, and the subtle pull of his voice, coaxing and unyielding, made it impossible to act.

Then, instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your trembling body seeking comfort, seeking something you didn’t understand. To him, it was perfect.

His hand, warm and firm, cupped your cheek as though you were fragile porcelain. The juxtaposition of his gentleness and the dark glint in his eyes made your stomach churn. He tilted his head slightly, the smooth cascade of his hair framing his face like a curtain, and his gaze softened, almost tender, as though he were truly savoring the moment.

Like the sweet lamb you were, you stepped willingly into the lion’s den.

“You’re coming home,” he said softly, his tone a mixture of mockery and affection. The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and inescapable, and you barely had time to comprehend them before you felt the sharp prick of the needle pierce your skin.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, but it was fleeting. The sedative coursed through your veins almost immediately, your body surrendering to the pull of unconsciousness.

Suguru caught you effortlessly as you fell, his arms wrapping around your limp form with an ease that betrayed just how much he had anticipated this moment. He cradled you against his chest with a gentleness that felt almost loving, the steady beat of his heart contrasting with the sinister gleam in his eyes.

“There we go,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as though you were something precious. “Let’s get you home, Sweetheart.”

What the hell does ghosting even mean? What does spamming even mean? Poor fella is trying to figure out life. 

Now you had given poor Choso your number. Really, truly a mistake on your part. 

You thought he was hot—mysteriously so, with his brooding gaze and those face tattoos that made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t a big deal, just a spur-of-the-moment thing when you spotted him at the bookstore while out with friends. You’d caught his eye, flashed him a smile, and casually slipped him your number on a whim.

What you didn’t realize was that poor Choso didn’t really know what to do with it.

For him, it was monumental. You didn’t just hand over your number; you handed over your heart. At least, that’s what Todo told him when Choso, unsure what the gesture meant, hesitantly sought advice. He couldn’t just ask his little brother these things, so he went to the expert about these things! After all, Todo was dating an idol! 

“She must be madly in love with you!” Todo had declared with his usual bombastic enthusiasm, clapping Choso on the shoulder so hard it nearly made him topple. “To give you her number without even talking? That’s destiny, brother! Love at first sight!”

And Choso believed him. Why wouldn’t he? Todo seemed confident, experienced.

So Choso, armed with Todo’s wisdom, started texting you.

And texting.

And texting.

At first, they were awkwardly sweet messages:

Choso: Hey. It’s Choso. From the bookstore. You gave me your number.Choso: Are you free to talk? I want to know more about you.

But then they kept coming.

Choso: Do you like horror books? Or romance? I can read both if you do.Choso: I saw a cat today. It reminded me of you.Choso: Do you like cats? I mean, not that you look like one. But you’re soft. Wait, not that I know if you’re soft. You just seem soft.

And then they started to come faster, his nervous overthinking spilling into endless walls of text.

Choso: Did I say something wrong? Are you upset with me?Choso: I hope I’m not bothering you. I just… I think we’d be good together.Choso: Please text me back. I can wait.

What Choso didn’t realize was that spamming someone all day wasn’t exactly endearing—it was overwhelming. But in his mind, the silence meant something entirely different.

“Todo,” Choso said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, his phone clutched in both hands. His dark brows furrowed as he stared at the unanswered messages. “She hasn’t responded. Do you think… do you think she’s playing hard to get?”

Todo grinned, throwing an arm around Choso’s shoulders. “Absolutely, brother! She’s testing your devotion. This is how women work. They want to see if you’re truly worthy.”

Choso nodded solemnly, his determination renewed. “I’ll show her. I’ll show her I’m serious.”

His solution? Doubling down.

When texting didn’t work, he tried calling. His voice shook the first few times—it felt so intimate, so real.

“Hi,” he murmured into the phone one evening after your voicemail picked up again. “It’s me. Choso. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you (the poor guy has only seen you one time). I mean—I know we haven’t talked much, but I miss you anyway (you have only exchanged names by the way). I think about you a lot. Please call me back when you can.”

And when the calls didn’t work, his thoughts began to spiral.

Was something wrong? Were you hurt? He’d seen it on TV—people ghosted because they couldn’t bring themselves to tell someone they were in trouble. Yes, that must be it.

So he started showing up.

First, it was just near the bookstore where he’d met you, hoping to “bump into” you. Then he wandered around the streets, retracing the route he thought you might take home.

Finally, he remembered the faint logo on your shopping bag that day, the one with your number scrawled on the receipt of. He found the shop, waited outside it for hours, hoping for a glimpse of you.

When he didn’t see you, his concern grew.

“Todo,” he said again one night, pacing his living room, his fingers tightening around his phone. “I don’t think she’s okay. She wouldn’t just ignore me like this. Not if she loved me.”

Todo shrugged, flipping through a magazine. “Maybe you need to show her how much you care. Do something big. Romantic.”

Choso froze, considering the advice. Todo was right. He just needed to show you.

And so, as you walked into your apartment the next evening, juggling groceries in both arms, you froze at the sight of a figure standing awkwardly in your living room.

“Choso?” you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat.You were already reaching for your phone. “How did you—”

He turned to you, a hesitant smile on his lips, his hands holding a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers. His dark eyes glimmered with a mixture of nervousness and relief, as if he were genuinely happy to see you.

“I was worried,” he said softly, stepping toward you. “You weren’t answering… so I thought I’d come check on you.” You had never given him your address. You had only given him your family name. 

You stared at him, your mind racing, caught somewhere between shock and fear.

Choso tilted his head, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Did I… do something wrong?”

You stared at Choso, your groceries still in your arms, the door half-open behind you. He didn’t move any closer, but the sight of him standing there, so out of place in your living room, sent a chill down your spine.

“How… how did you get in here?” you managed, your voice trembling.

Choso blinked, tilting his head slightly as if you’d asked him a question he didn’t understand. “Your lock wasn’t very secure,” he said simply, holding up what looked like a slim piece of metal. “I was worried. You haven’t been responding, and I thought something might have happened to you.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost disarming, but the implication of his words made your skin crawl.

“Choso,” you said slowly, setting the groceries down on the counter and keeping the island between you as a buffer, “you can’t just… break into someone’s home.”

His brows furrowed, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “I wasn’t breaking in,” he said softly, almost as if the accusation hurt him. “I just needed to make sure you were okay. You haven’t been answering me, and I thought…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced at the flowers in his hands, his grip tightening slightly around the stems.

“I’ve been busy,” you said, trying to keep your tone steady. “You didn’t need to do this. I’m fine.”

“But you’re not,” he said quietly, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was an intensity in his gaze, like he truly believed every word he was saying. “You’re not fine. If you were, you would’ve answered me. Something must be wrong.”

“No, Choso,” you said firmly, taking a deep breath. “I wasn’t ignoring you because something’s wrong. I’ve just been busy with work and other things. And honestly… you’re sending way too many messages. It’s overwhelming.”

His face fell, the fragile hope in his expression crumbling. “Overwhelming?” he echoed, as if the word were foreign to him. “But I thought… I thought you wanted me to care about you.”

You hesitated, the raw vulnerability in his voice making your stomach twist. “Choso, I gave you my number because I thought you seemed nice. That’s all. I didn’t mean for this to… to go this far.”

He stared at you, unblinking, as if trying to process your words. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, he spoke, his voice trembling slightly. “So… you don’t want me to care about you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you said quickly, trying to keep your tone gentle. “I just think maybe you’ve misunderstood. I didn’t mean for you to think… we were something more.”

His grip on the flowers tightened, the fragile petals crumpling beneath his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes distant as if he were lost in thought.

Then, slowly, he nodded. “I understand,” he murmured, though his tone was unsettlingly calm. “You’ve been busy. You’ve been… overwhelmed.”

You exhaled in relief, thinking maybe he’d finally gotten the message. But then he looked up at you again, his eyes bright with a strange, unsettling determination.

“I’ll just come check on you more often,” he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d made up his mind.

Your heart sank. “Choso, that’s not—”

“No, it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone almost cheerful now. “You don’t have to feel bad. I know you’re busy, and sometimes it’s hard to keep up with everything. But I can help. I can make sure you’re okay. You shouldn’t have to do everything on your own.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made your blood run cold.

“You don’t need to do that,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to check on me.”

“But I want to,” he insisted, his expression softening with something that almost looked like affection. “I care about you. Isn’t that what you want? Someone who cares?”

You stepped back, the counter pressing into your spine as you tried to put more distance between you. “Choso, this isn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he said again, cutting you off with a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll make it work. You don’t have to say anything now. I’ll take care of it.”

Before you could respond, he stepped toward the door, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re never too busy again.”

And then he was gone, leaving the faint scent of crushed flowers in the air.

You locked the door behind him, your hands trembling as you slid the deadbolt into place. The faint scent of crushed flowers still lingered in the air, a sickly-sweet reminder of his presence.

For a moment, the silence felt almost deafening. You stared at the door, hoping—praying—that this would be the end of it.

Choso didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand boundaries, didn’t understand what his actions meant to you. To him, this wasn’t wrong—it was pure love. That you must love him too. 

[marksbear2]

Can i request Kraven x male reader headcanons? 🤭 also seen you were sick, hope you’re feeling better. 💗

Kraven the hunter x male reader

Dear anon you probably don’t even remember requesting this from how long it took for me to post this 💔💔. I hope you don’t mind and enjoy the fic.

1. Wilderness Dates – Instead of typical dates, Kraven takes you on hunting trips, teaching you how to track, set traps, and survive in the wild.

2. Protective Instincts – He’s fiercely protective of you, always keeping a watchful eye when you’re in dangerous areas, even if you insist you can handle yourself.

3. Animal Affection – Kraven’s pets, especially his lions and leopards, are unusually affectionate toward you. He says it’s because they recognize you as his mate.

4. Trophy Gifts – Instead of flowers or jewelry, he brings you trophies from his hunts—like a beautifully carved bone knife or a rare pelt he insists would make a good cloak for you.

5. His urge for dominance – He treats you like his equal but has a deeply ingrained need to prove himself as the strongest, often challenging you to arm wrestling matches or sparring sessions.

6. Soft for You – He may be a ruthless hunter, but when he’s alone with you, he becomes oddly tender, brushing his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses against your temple.

7. Cooking Experiments – He insists on cooking meat he hunted himself, sometimes with questionable seasoning choices. You once had to pretend to enjoy an overly spicy jungle stew.

8. Jealousy Issues – Kraven doesn’t handle jealousy well. If someone flirts with you, he looms behind them like a predator, silently daring them to back off.

9. Old-School Romance – He believes in grand, dramatic gestures, like carrying you bridal-style over a river or slaying a beast in your honor.

10. Hunting Together – If you show any interest in hunting, he takes great pride in teaching you, even letting you lead small hunts to boost your confidence.

11. Battle Couple Energy – If you’re a fighter, he adores the idea of battling side by side, reveling in the thrill of combat together.

12. Survival Training – He believes you should be able to survive in the wild without him, so he occasionally tests you by disappearing for a few hours and watching from afar to see how you handle yourself.

13. Affectionate Nicknames – He calls you things like "Little Wolf," "My Lion," or "Prey-Turned-Predator" depending on his mood.

14. Body Worship – Kraven is a man who appreciates strength, whether it’s his own or yours. If you work out, expect a lot of lingering hands and admiring glances.

15. Animal-Like Comfort – He’s not above curling around you like a big cat when you’re resting together, nuzzling into your neck as he dozes off.

16. Tattoos and Scars – If you have scars, he traces them with fascination, praising you for being strong enough to earn them. If you have tattoos, he asks about their meaning and if he can add one to your collection.

17. Loyal to the End – Once Kraven has claimed you as his, he is unshakably devoted. Betrayal is unthinkable, and he would cross the world to find you if you were taken from him.

18. Drunken Boasting – After a few drinks, he brags loudly about your strength, intelligence, or cunning to anyone who will listen, making sure the world knows you’re worthy of standing beside him.

19. Traditional Courting – He has an old-fashioned view of romance and might insist on proving himself to you through trials, like hunting a beast in your name or bringing home an impressive prize.

20. Predator and Prey Dynamic – Sometimes, just to mess with you, he’ll playfully “hunt” you in the jungle or around your home, only to catch you in his arms and whisper, “You are mine.”

THE END

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Part 4: A Rigged Test

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Arc 1: Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 Arc 2: Part 4 (here) ― Part 5 Arc 3: Part 6 ― Part 7 Arc 4: Part 8 ― Part 9 ― Part 10 ― Part 11 ― Special Arc 5: Part 12 ― Part 13 ― Part 14 ― Part 15

You want to kill something—someone to be specific—right now. Even as you were surrounded with snacks you liked, you hated the situation unfolding before you. The mind of a human is just too weird for you to understand in any sense.

You angrily bit on the chip between your fingers with a loud and resounding snap that broke the silence while your eyes drilled holes into the man who was basically holding you there against your will, maybe with some form of bribe, but it was definitely not the snacks. Definitely.

“Just let her in your guild, you edge lord.” You hissed as you took the female Hunter’s side, annoyed at the various ridiculous excuses Jinwoo listed to push Hae-In away. You would admit that you’re impressed with her resilience when facing such a menace; then again, she is in love, and love makes one do crazy things.

Jinwoo had half a mind to know not to voice out the question of how and why you’d know such phrasing, since there was Cha Hae-In present and there was no need to raise alarm bells. Though the greatest reason was that he didn’t want another to know about you or what you are precisely. He can’t say he’s bothered by the way your eyes stared at him, all focused and guarded, ready to take Hae-In hostage if the situation calls for it.

Ah, but it won’t be much help to you. You’d have picked the wrong target. If it were someone like his mother or younger sister, then there’d be an effect you’d wanted. However, this was Hae-In, he barely met her and she barely knew him. That can’t be the case between you two. 

He knew about your being as a Monarch and an inhuman thing using a human body as a vessel, you knew about his levelling-up system that granted him his status as an S-Rank and all his other abilities. He and you could be your true selves in each other’s presence, no filter, no expectations of fulfilling anything. In a sense, he felt more at peace with you than the other people around him. Like you were someone as close to him as family. 

Perhaps this was the after-effects of viewing the memories between you and Ashborn, but that was his thoughts.

“There’s an entrance test before I can allow you to join, Hunter Cha.” Jinwoo stated nonchalantly.

You raised a brow while Hae-In flinched in alarm, “H- Huh?! That wasn’t in the recruiting notice…”

“A mistake, since we were busy these few days.” Jinwoo got up and eyed you to do the same, you complied while bringing along your unfinished snacks. “If you think it’s too sudden and unreasonable, you can―”

“What kind of test is it?” Hae-In asked with resolve.

You practically saw the shock in Jinwoo’s eyes, hiding a snicker as you internally mocked his poor insight into a woman’s determination. 

“You have to win against one of my summons.” Jinwoo laid out the simple yet vague requirement. 

“Is the evaluation of me in your eyes so low, Hunter Sung?” Hae-In’s tone turned firm and solid, nothing like her previous blushing mess. You can’t miss the fire burning in her eyes, “What kind of summon is it?”

With a cruel thought, you wondered if killing this Hunter for Ashborn and adding her to his army would be a good enough apology gift. Then again, you had to do it when the vessel’s soul is gone and Ashborn is back to fully appreciate your work well done. You’ll keep the thought in mind for the future. For now, you’ll let the humans deal with their business.

“For you, Hunter Cha, I’ll use my strongest summon ally.” Just as you were leaving the scene, Jinwoo’s hand placed firmly on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. You looked up at him in confusion and question as he looked down with a smirk. “This one.”

Hae-In jumped, “You’re a summon?! But you’re so… So…”

“Human?” Jinwoo smiled, leaning down to your level as his face was next to yours and made eye contact with Hae-In, “Yes, this is my perfect ally and companion in battle; it wouldn’t be good for a monster to be around me, right?”

You glared at Jinwoo, completely unaware of the conflicted expression on Hae-In’s face as your back was facing her. You whispered a hiss at him, “What are you doing? Don’t drag me into this.”

“A small deal then.” Jinwoo whispered back, taking advantage of Hae-In’s inner turmoil. “If you can ward Hunter Cha from joining my guild, you won’t have to stay by my side all the time. In other words, defeat Hunter cha and you get some free time for yourself without me around.”

That got your attention and you turned to glance at Hae-In. This woman can’t even manage to hold this vessel’s attention for long, not to mention how you were now dragged into some useless fight. Even if you let her into the guild, her use wasn’t much and she is weak compared to this vessel before you. The comparison was unfair, but it was the truth.

“Fine, but you keep your word.”

“Of course.”

You turned your heel and dumped the snacks back onto the coffee table. Taking a page out of Igris’ book, you stood at attention and fixed your expression to a more stoic and indifferent look, your chin angled down and your hands were placed behind your back, your eyes stared sharply at Hae-In. “My Lord has suggested I do battle with you for your place in his guild,” You offered your hand as you asked, “Should you accept, only if you win against me will you be considered acceptance. Do you still wish to partake in the duel?”

Jinwoo was almost taken aback with your shift in attitude and character. Not that he found fault in it, but rather, he was more drawn to you. It was smart of him to make such an appealing offer to you. The System’s information was right on the money. You are so self-centered and willing to abandon others for your own cause.

Now, all he needed to do was make sure you don’t can’t leave him.

His eyes glowed briefly when Hae-In’s hand gripped yours with a firm nod that meant ‘yes’. The moment you looked over as if asking for approval made his heart skip a beat, you were acting just like an actual Shadow soldier of his. He nodded back and watched you raise your other hand to snap your fingers. 

In the blink of an eye, all three of you were transported to another dimension. All your surroundings were misty, and even the ground was covered with a layer of fog that obscured their vision of their own feet. You had long walked off from Jinwoo’s side, only when he snapped back to attention did he realize he was standing at the perfect angle to see you and Hae-In on either side of a field of sorts.

“Here, we can battle without restraint.” You said, and with another snap of your fingers, a rack of weapons appeared by Hae-In’s side. “Pick your weapon, and we will begin on My Lord’s mark.”

So Jinwoo was right; you could have escaped to your own realm at any moment, with or without his consent and knowledge. Why you haven’t done so was odd, but that also proves how much of a hold Ashborn has on you. If only he could shift your attention from his predecessor to himself. 

Hae-In picked a long sword while you stood immobile. 

“Ready.”

Hae-In got into a stance, but you were as still as can be like you were frozen in place.

“Set.”

Hae-In’s mana aura surrounded her, charging her blade as well. You did nothing.

“Go!”

Hae-In took the initiative and charged forward, planning to end the duel with one quick decisive move. However, just before her blade reached you, you had disappeared in thin air. As quickly as you disappeared, you materialized behind Hae-In and kicked her in the back to send her flying to the side. You stood at your spot, fixing your clothes, tugging at your sleeves from your movement.

Swiftly, Hae-In had recovered and remained on the offensive. Your head tilted and you dodged her incoming attacks with graceful movements. The way you put minimum effort into this was almost like you were toying with the Hunter. Your monotonous expression and your hands behind your back were screaming handicap. It may look like an advantage to Hae-In, but it hurt her pride.

“Fight me for real.” Hae-In panted, finding this play irritating.

You merely blinked and hummed. Your eyes darted over to Jinwoo’s analytic look, no doubt he was watching this fight with a hawk, mainly judging your abilities than Hae-In’s qualifications to join the guild. You knew and he knew, there was no way Hae-In could win against you, a Monarch. It was only a matter of how to create that loss without death.

If only you could kill. Then everything would be so easy.

You sighed, momentarily closing your eyes before they opened and glowed, “Humans are so ignorant of their limits…”

Note: Probably not the update you guys wanted, but I've been writing for this series still~ I'm thinking of making the parts longer cause of the gaps between updates though, not just for this series, but maybe for future posts too.

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @o-qi-shisme @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah @skylar896 @rai-xxx @lilliana-14 @larettajudith

[wisecura]

Jujutsu Kaisen

unfortunately, I pick favorites

🔪 - will have dark undertones (or full blown black flags).

🔞 - will have smutty content.

♡ - a request fic I got

warnings will be put for the stories that have less traditional dark undertones. most of my work will have themes that may be unsettling or uncomfortable so please do not interact with these stories. this can include dubcon, toxic relationships, manipulative behavior, potential poor decision making on the Y/N perspective. I write things I find interesting and if that offends you, then please don’t read.

Red in the title means its a WIP (typed up concept in my Docs just waiting to be finished/edited/published), and will hopefully be released soon.

Gojo x You (my golden boy makes me feral)

believe it or not, this man has his own masterlist

Gojo x You x Geto

╰┈➤Nanny 🔪⭑summary: Isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, you sell yourself to the Gojo Clan in an attempt to change your favorite characters fates. You change many things, and are able to see the boys grow peacefully. Yet now with them out of the clan house you find yourself in a predicament. Your arranged marriage. warnings: small age gap, abnorm dynamic

this is a series: a second?,

╰┈➤Sweeter ♡ 🔪 🔞⭑ summary: entering high school only to be met with the two hottest strongest sorcerers of your generation was not something you were prepared for. so, what happens when they take a strange liking to their cute, sheltered underclassman?

this has a smutty p.2

Geto x You (he never comes far behind)

╰┈➤pretty (older and discontinued, but if you reallllly wanna read it?)

╰┈➤Pretty 🔪⭑ summary: You're Gojo's cute little sister. And Suguru just cant get enough of you.

this is a series: did you want a 2?, a 3? and a 4?,

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╰┈➤Try the Priest 🔪⭑ summary: Your best friend, Suguru Geto, has a warrant on his head. You hadn't heard from him since then, and you thought your friendship was as good as dead. So why is he on your front porch?

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╰┈➤ My Leader 🔪🔞 ⭑ summary: suguru geto was all for the betterment of the world--eradicating the non-sorcerers in society, and collecting people to stand in the new world with him. it's no different when he finds you--an untrained sorcerer, so eager and desperate for validation-- a hint at sanity when no one else could see the monsters around you. but what happens if he takes you in only to find himself changing his mind. warnings: pwp, voyeurism, gore, blood, murder, dark undertones, size kink smut, you aren't in your right mind either, fingering, marking, manipulation, belittling and teasing

Toge x You

Yuji x You

╰┈➤Shine 🔪⭑ summary: You're a famous pop idol that Yuji adores. what more is there to say?

Megumi x You

╰┈➤Sheets 🔪 ⭑ summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy. warnings: arranged marriage, forced marriage, violence, step-cest, mommy kinks, age gap

this is a series: another? , and another? , this 4?, a 5?, is that a 6?, did i spy a 7?, an 8th??, a 9, 10,

Toji x You

Choso x You

Yuta x You

╰┈➤Desperation 🔪🔞 ⭑ summary: Yuta’s really gotta thing for you and you’ve got one for him. warning: abnorm dynamic, knife play, borderline somno, dom material

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╰┈➤Yuuuuutttaaaa 🔪 🔪 🔞 ⭑ summary: You and yuta have been best friends for years warnings: somno, dub/non- con, forced breeding, this one’s a little intense

Nanami x You

AN: This anime has been my obsession for the last few months

I post updates in this community so feel free to check it out: https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

And home

[hummingbird24220]

May I request aged down! strawhats with overwhelmed reader. The strawhats were hit with a devil fruit leading them to be 7-10 ish (keeping the same age gaps they already have so franky, robin and brook are still older) Reader finds them all adorable but there’s a lot of children now running around. Just fun shenanigans all around

Love this!!! Theyre all so cute as kids :')

Hope you enjoy!

Daycare Dawn

One Piece x Reader — Aged Down!Straw Hats

You blinked slowly.

Then again.

Then again, just in case the sun was playing tricks on your eyes.

“...Okay. Deep breaths,” you murmured, crouching down in front of the small crowd of miniature pirates now staring up at you with the exact same expressions as the fully grown Straw Hats you knew and loved. Just...shorter. Rounder. With missing baby teeth and too-large clothes.

In front of you stood your crew. The strongest, weirdest, loudest found family you’d ever had.

Only now?

They were all children.

“(Y/N),” tiny Robin said calmly, her oversized cowboy hat slipping to one side of her head. “You appear to be panicking.”

“I’m not panicking,” you lied, kneeling down and pressing your hands to your cheeks as your eyes swept across them again.

There was 7-year-old Chopper sniffling, wrapped in a t-shirt that now draped over him like a cape. He looked like a plush toy you could find in a gift shop.

There was 9-year-old Usopp who already had stick-on stars and bandaids plastered all over his cheeks, doing ninja moves behind you because he thought you weren’t watching.

Zoro and Sanji—11, both of them—were glaring at each other with identical disgust, the former already trying to sneak a training weight under his shirt and the latter attempting to pull a cigarette out of his pocket only to find a lollipop instead.

“Oh no,” you muttered, looking to Luffy next.

The 9-year-old boy was in the middle of climbing the mast like it was a jungle gym. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Look what I can do!” he called, hanging upside down from the crow’s nest, grinning like a maniac. “I’m gonna jump!”

“You’re gonna what—” You sprinted to catch him, only for his rubber body to bounce harmlessly off the deck like a living beach ball. He cackled as he rolled in a circle.

Nami, age 10 and furious about it, stomped over to you with her arms crossed. “Do you know how long it took me to grow out of this hair phase?! I look like a dandelion!”

You opened your mouth to respond but froze as a clunk clunk echoed from the stairs.

Franky had arrived.

Sixteen-year-old Franky—barely out of braces and with an unfortunate blue fauxhawk haircut you would later learn was a "daring phase"—grinned at you from ear to ear.

“YO! This is SUPER!!” he shouted, attempting to flex his scrawny arms. “Check out these noodle guns!”

Your soul quietly left your body.

Robin, the most composed of the group at ten years old, patted your shoulder gently. “You appear to be experiencing emotional collapse. That’s understandable.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” you replied, weakly.

And then—skeletal violin screech.

Brook poked his head out from the kitchen doorway, still a skeleton (as ever), but somehow… younger? If a skeleton could be “youthful,” Brook was pulling it off. He even seemed to be standing a little straighter.

“I’d offer to babysit,” he said, bowing dramatically, “but as you can see, I’m bone-tired! Yohohohoho!”

You tossed a dishcloth at him. “You’re not helping!”

“Oh, I’m not helping,” he said with a wink you could feel in your bones.

You dragged both hands down your face.

So, to recap: Some weird Devil Fruit user hit your crew with an ability that aged them down. Not mentally—not entirely. They still acted like themselves. But there was definitely a whole lot more chaos, tantrums, and bursts of uncontainable child energy going on than usual.

And you were the only one unaffected.

Which meant—

“(Y/N)!” Chopper cried, tugging your pants leg. “I accidentally turned into my heavy point and crushed Sanji!”

“I’m fine,” came a muffled voice from under the couch. “But I think my nose is broken. Again.”

You sighed. “Okay. Right. New rule: No transforming without warning me first.”

“(Y/N)!” Usopp yelled from the upper deck. “Can I ride the cannon?”

“No.”

“Too late!”

A BOOM shook the ship as a puff of smoke exploded from one of the Sunny’s cannons—followed by giggling.

Robin sat on a crate, already reading a book. “I took the gunpowder out,” she explained. “Figured that might be necessary.”

You dropped to your knees and clutched your head. “This is fine. Everything’s fine. I’ve definitely babysat this many children before. This is just like that time I watched Chopper, Nami, and Usopp for ten minutes and no one lost a limb. Same vibe.”

“Technically,” Robin mused, “Usopp did sprain his ankle.”

“Robin.”

“Just saying.”

Franky ran by in platform shoes he made out of tin cans.

Sanji was making tiny, child-sized bentos.

Zoro was napping on top of the fridge.

Brook was serenading himself in a mirror.

Luffy was trying to fit an entire watermelon in his mouth.

And you… you were going to need a nap. And snacks. Lots of snacks.

But despite the chaos, the wild energy, and the feeling of being totally overwhelmed by this whirlwind of tiny terrors—

You couldn’t stop smiling.

Because damn it… they were adorable.

--

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, and a growing mountain of sandwich triangles before you.

It had taken you ten minutes to realize that child-sized Straw Hats had the same appetites as their adult counterparts—which was to say, limitless.

“Okay,” you muttered, lining up the last few plates on the counter like you were preparing for war. “Peanut butter and jelly. Tuna. Egg salad. Ham and cheese. And… a few veggie ones. For balance. I am a god.”

You turned just in time to see Luffy’s wide eyes peering over the counter like a cartoon character, hands gripping the edge.

“Are those… sandwiches?” he asked, voice trembling like he’d just seen the One Piece itself.

“They’re not even fancy ones,” you said, lifting a plate.

“I don’t care.” Luffy looked on the verge of tears. “They’re beautiful.”

And just like that, the feeding frenzy began.

Within seconds, your kitchen was overrun.

Zoro was casually grabbing ham-and-cheese sandwiches two at a time, his mouth too full to speak but still managing to grunt his approval like a tiny caveman.

Sanji, despite his age regression, had a pinky up while eating a cucumber sandwich, face flushed as he muttered, “You cut the crusts off… (Y/N), you care so much it hurts—”

Nami had claimed an entire plate of egg salad sandwiches and was sitting cross-legged on the counter like a tiny queen. “You’re getting a tip after this. I'm budgeting it in.”

Robin, who you swore had never smiled wider than this, calmly took a bite of a veggie sandwich. “You have excellent knife skills,” she praised. “These are perfectly symmetrical. I feel respected.”

Chopper made a noise somewhere between a squeal and a gasp, eyes sparkling. “There’s peanut butter in my mouth and in my heart,” he whispered reverently.

You were dangerously close to melting into a puddle of goo.

Usopp had stuffed his cheeks so full he looked like a chipmunk, dramatically flopping to the floor. “I’ve been reborn,” he declared. “This is my new origin story.”

Brook, despite being a skeleton and physically unable to eat, took a plate and sat politely at the table anyway. “I can’t eat it,” he said, holding the sandwich tenderly. “But it’s the thought that nourishes my soul. Yohohoho!”

Franky took one bite, froze, then immediately built a cardboard shrine in your honor out of old cola boxes. “This is the most SUPER sandwich I’ve ever had!” he shouted, fist raised. “I will protect this kitchen with my life!”

“I only used white bread and sliced meat—” you started.

“DIVINE BREAD,” Luffy insisted, eyes wide with awe.

“You toasted the edges?” Sanji whispered. “(Y/N). Marry me.”

“I’m too old for you right now,” you shot back, flicking his forehead.

“I’ll wait.” He clutched his sandwich like a declaration of love.

Zoro looked up, crumbs clinging to his cheek. “What’s a ‘marry’?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but Luffy had already shoved another sandwich in his mouth and mumbled, “It’s when you get extra snacks forever.”

“Oh. I wanna marry a sandwich.”

“You are a sandwich,” Usopp muttered, still collapsed on the floor.

You stood in the middle of the chaos, watching them eat and laugh and yell over one another, with little jelly fingerprints smudging the counter and sticky mouths smiling up at you like you were some kind of hero.

And, yeah.

Okay.

Maybe this was a nightmare for some people.

But watching these tiny versions of your crew—your family—tear into simple sandwiches like they were sacred relics?

Yeah. You could handle this.

Even if you were now officially the Mom, Dad, Cook, Babysitter, Emotional Counselor, and Occasional Jungle Gym of the Straw Hat Pirates.

You didn’t mind.

You were smitten.

--

“GUYS,” you yelled from the deck, holding a dish towel and looking absolutely unhinged, “I NEED FIVE MINUTES. JUST FIVE. MINUTES.”

So far, your afternoon had included:

28 sandwiches distributed.

14 sandwiches dropped.

2 sandwiches stuffed into your pockets “for later,” according to Usopp.

And 1 tiny Brook playing the violin dramatically in the background the whole time like your life was a telenovela.

You were beginning to think the Devil Fruit that did this to them hadn’t just reversed their age—it had amplified their chaos.

“(Y/N)!” Luffy’s voice rang out like a gunshot. “WATCH THIS—!”

You turned.

Too late.

He had launched himself off the side of the Sunny using one of the cannons as a springboard, aiming for… something? A fish? A cloud? The concept of fun?

Either way, he was headed straight for the sea.

“LUFFY—!”

Your heart dropped.

You sprinted to the edge of the ship and dove after him without thinking. The ocean rushed up to meet you, your arms cutting through the water as you spotted a flash of red and rubber beneath the surface.

One firm grip on the back of his vest later, and you hauled a very soggy, still-laughing Luffy back onto the deck.

He spat out a mouthful of seawater and beamed at you.

“That was AWESOME—!”

You flicked his forehead so fast, even he blinked.

“No. More. Launching. Yourself. Into. The. Ocean.”

He rubbed his head, then gave you a sheepish, child-sized grin.

“Okay,” he mumbled, then immediately whispered to Usopp, “...Next time, aim better.”

You gave him the look.

Inside, another disaster was brewing.

“NAMI,” you barked, storming into the common room just in time to see her holding out a tiny ledger.

“What is this?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

Nami smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. Suspiciously sweetly.

“A perfectly reasonable breathing fee,” she said. “Usopp’s been taking extra breaths today.”

Usopp, clutching a handful of shiny buttons he’d already offered as payment, nodded. “It’s fair. I was really huffin’ earlier.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“No one is being charged for breathing,” you said firmly. “You can charge him when he starts asking for air delivery.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

Usopp looked a little disappointed. “So I get to keep my buttons?”

“Yes.”

He threw them in the air and started dancing under them like it was a parade.

You turned the corner.

Only to spot Chopper sitting cross-legged on the couch surrounded by medical supplies. He had at least four syringes sticking out of his little hooves and was carefully inspecting a scalpel.

“CHOPPER.”

He froze.

“…Hi?” he squeaked.

You crouched down beside him. “Hey, buddy. Whatcha doin’?”

“I was just… doing pretend surgery. On this banana.” He held up a very unfortunate banana with a bandaid over its middle.

“Aw, that’s cute,” you said gently. “But maybe let’s not use actual needles right now, yeah?”

He nodded rapidly. “Right! Right. Sorry. I forgot I’m seven.”

You took the scalpel away and replaced it with a plushie shaped like a liver. “Operate on this instead.”

His eyes lit up. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you tiny menace.”

A loud CRASH interrupted your moment of peace.

You whipped around just in time to see Zoro and Sanji rolling across the deck in a tangle of flailing limbs and shouted insults.

“You’re cooking smells like feet!”

“Your sword stance looks like you learned it from a goldfish!”

You stepped in between them, arms outstretched, a flip-flop in one hand for intimidation.

“BOYS. NO FIGHTING ON THE SHIP.”

Zoro froze mid-punch. “He called my eyebrows weird again.”

“They are!”

“That’s racist!”

You held up the flip-flop higher.

They both instantly sat cross-legged and folded their arms like little monks.

“Thank you,” you said, deeply exhausted.

Behind you, Luffy had started drawing faces on the deck with mustard.

Usopp had convinced Chopper to wear a sock on his head as a “doctor crown.”

Franky was trying to upgrade Brook’s violin to shoot fireworks.

And Robin had quietly installed a “help” sign in the kitchen window.

You put your hands on your hips, looked up at the sky, and exhaled deeply.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Just… eleven more hours ‘til bedtime.”

--

Bedtime had started as a hope.

Then it became a goal.

And by the end?

It was a full-blown campaign that would go down in the history books as the “Battle of the Bunkroom.”

But somehow—somehow—you made it through.

You’d started with the easy ones.

Robin, ever graceful even at ten, had calmly brushed her teeth, climbed into her blanket nest, and said, “Goodnight, (Y/N). You’re doing a wonderful job.”

You almost cried on the spot.

Franky, now a lanky teen with too-long limbs, high-fived you, announced he was “recharging his SUPER batteries,” and collapsed onto a futon with mechanical snoring sounds. You covered him with a blanket. He muttered “gear maintenance…” in his sleep.

Nami grumbled, “Only because I have important dreams,” and curled up on her own pile of pillows with her ledger tucked under one arm like a stuffed animal. She was out in minutes.

Chopper and Usopp? Already asleep. Cuddled up in a sleepy little pile on the couch like a deer and a raccoon, legs tangled, Usopp drooling slightly onto Chopper’s ear. You didn’t dare move them.

Brook was sitting upright in a chair with a cup of tea and a lullaby on his violin. “I do not sleep,” he said politely, “but I shall vibe respectfully.”

“…Thanks?”

“My pleasure. Yohohoho~”

The final boss of bedtime?

Monkey D. Luffy.

He’d declared he didn’t need sleep, wouldn’t sleep, had never heard of sleep—and then passed out mid-sentence while arguing with a broom. You caught him before his head hit the floor, bundled him up like a burrito, and gently tucked him into bed.

“Goodnight, captain,” you whispered.

He let out one sleepy “meat…” and began snoring.

You were so close.

Only two remained.

Zoro and Sanji were seated at the table across from each other, eyes narrowed in concentration, arms crossed, faces set in serious little scowls.

“Whatcha doing?” you asked.

“Staying up longer than him,” Sanji muttered.

“Tch. As if you could,” Zoro scoffed.

You blinked. “This is… a competition now?”

They nodded. In perfect sync.

You sighed and collapsed into the chair between them, resting your head on the table. “You know I could just say ‘lights out’ and win, right?”

“We’re already past lights out,” Sanji said smugly.

Zoro grunted. “She’s got wine waiting. Bet she wants us to go to sleep.”

You gave them both a deadpan look. “That’s disturbingly accurate.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, and you just… sat there with them. The ship had fallen quiet, a soft ocean breeze drifting through the windows, the distant creak of the Sunny rocking gently on the waves.

“…You’re a good babysitter,” Sanji said suddenly, not looking at you.

You blinked.

“I mean,” he added quickly, face going pink, “for someone who doesn’t normally babysit, and, y’know, isn’t qualified.”

Zoro grunted. “She didn’t even kill anyone. That’s impressive.”

You huffed a laugh. “Thanks, guys. I think.”

They both leaned on the table, heads wobbling.

“I’m gonna stay up forever,” Sanji mumbled.

“Same,” Zoro said, eyes already closed.

“…You’re asleep.”

“No I’m not,” Zoro muttered, face-first on the table.

Right into a forgotten jam sandwich.

“…You have got to be kidding me.”

Sanji snored softly beside him, forehead resting on your arm.

You sighed—again—and stood up, gently lifting Zoro over one shoulder (carefully avoiding the jam) and tucking him into the closest futon. His cheek was sticky, and you wiped it clean with a warm cloth.

His face twitched slightly. “…Mm. Thanks…”

You smiled.

Then you picked up Sanji, who mumbled something about soufflé in his sleep, and placed him beside Zoro, both of them looking more peaceful than you’d seen them all day.

And finally, finally, it was over.

You stepped back into the now-silent kitchen, grabbed a wine bottle from the fridge, poured yourself a very big glass, and sank into the couch.

One sip. Two. Deep breath.

You looked around at the peaceful chaos.

Blankets everywhere. Tiny socks. Luffy's hat abandoned on the floor. Chopper's plushie liver left on the table like a casualty.

“Yeah,” you whispered to yourself, taking another sip.

“…I definitely need therapy after this.”

But damn if you didn’t love them more than anything.

--

You woke up early.

Groggy. Fuzzy-brained. Slightly hungover, but only in spirit.

Your back ached from carrying two pint-sized swordsmen and a certain rubber boy who slept like a boulder, and there was a peanut butter smear in your hair you didn’t want to talk about.

Still, you dragged yourself out of bed and into the galley.

It was a disaster zone.

Crusts. Crumbs. Stickers on the walls (thanks, Usopp). Someone had drawn a mustache on the fridge with ketchup. You didn’t know how Luffy had managed to get a spoon in the ceiling, but it was there.

You got to work quietly. No complaints. No grumbling.

Just you, the sunrise, and the soft hum of a broom scraping jelly off the floor.

And then—

“...(Y/N)?”

You turned, almost afraid.

There, standing in the doorway, was Sanji. Grown-up Sanji. In all his tall, flirty, freshly-shaven, cigarette-holding glory.

You dropped the sponge in your hand like it was molten lava.

“You’re big again.”

He blinked. Then looked down at himself. “...Oh. Oh.”

From the hallway, more voices joined in.

“Is this a dream?”

“My arms aren’t stubby anymore!”

“My facial hair! It’s returned!”

One by one, the rest of the Straw Hats filed in, stretching, yawning, rubbing the backs of their necks and blinking at the suddenly too-small furniture.

Luffy bounced in, now fully adult, his hat flopping over one eye.

“WHOA! I’m tall again!” he grinned, poking his own face. “I missed my stubble!”

“You didn’t have stubble, idiot,” Zoro muttered, already raiding the fridge. He paused, hand hovering over the jam jar. “...Why is there a bite mark in the jar?”

“Don’t ask,” you croaked, still in shock. “You were eleven. You had a jam sandwich battle with your face. It’s fine.”

Chopper ran in on two legs. “(Y/N)!” he wailed. “Did I do surgery on a banana???”

You gave him a thumbs up. “It survived.”

Robin was serene as ever, smiling gently. “It appears the effect wore off overnight.”

Franky cracked his knuckles. “I remember everything. I had teen angst, didn’t I?”

“You tried to start a band called ‘Supernova Sadboys,’” you confirmed.

He fist-pumped. “...Nice.”

Usopp staggered in, looking like he hadn’t slept in a year. “I had dreams, man. So many dreams. You were in them. You were yelling.”

“Probably real,” you muttered, picking jelly out of your hair.

Luffy plopped into a chair and grinned. “(Y/N), you looked after all of us the whole time, huh?”

You nodded slowly.

“And didn’t die,” Sanji added.

“Almost,” you said, deadpan. “Almost.”

Zoro snorted and passed you a clean mug of coffee. “You earned this.”

Robin took a seat beside you and tilted her head. “We do owe you.”

Brook handed you a single flower from his violin case. “You are our skeletal savior. Or, perhaps, our mama mia. Yohohoho!”

The room erupted in laughter.

“No, seriously,” Nami added with a smirk, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You were like a whole mom yesterday. Cooking, chasing, yelling, wiping noses—”

“I didn’t wipe any noses!” you argued.

Chopper raised a hoof. “You wiped my nose.”

“Oh my god—”

Luffy leaned back and beamed. “Well, Mom, you did a great job!”

“Stop calling me Mom—!”

Zoro took a long sip of his coffee. “Too late. It’s canon now.”

Usopp leaned dramatically against the counter. “Captain Mom.”

“Mom of the Pirates.”

“(Y/N) the All-Mother.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “I survived literal child pirates just for this?”

But the truth was… you were smiling.

Because chaos or not, mess or not, wine and jelly and all, they were back. And safe.

And still absolutely the best disaster family in the world.

You took a long sip of your coffee, sighed, and muttered with a grin:

“Never. Again.”

Luffy raised his mug. “Until next time!”

[freshthoughts2020]

[yourname-exee]

Satosugu x reader

chapter 1 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 12

what really causes Suguru to go off the deep end.

The dim glow of the underground chamber did nothing to hide the carnage. Blood stained the stone floors, seeping into the cracks like it belonged there. The metallic scent was thick in the air, suffocating, clinging to Suguru’s skin.  

His hands shook at his sides, fingers twitching as his cursed energy coiled around him like a living thing.

A deep breath. A sharp exhale.

His mind was clear, but his heart was a battlefield.   

Your body lay just feet away, still and lifeless. The warmth that once graced your smile, the light that once danced in your eyes—gone. Riko Amanai lay beside you, her small frame no different from a discarded doll, hollow and unmoving.   

Suguru didn’t cry.   

He couldn’t.   

Not when Toji Fushiguro stood before him, eyes void of remorse.   

Toji tilted his head, smoke rising from the barrel of the gun. “Tch. Too easy”  

Suguru moved.  Fast. Precise.  

He wasn’t reckless no his rage was tempered, controlled, sharpened into something deadly. His attacks were calculated, each strike meant to tear into the monster that had stolen you from him. Cursed spirits swarmed the air, their cries echoing his fury as they lunged at Toji.   

The assassin dodged, weaving through them effortlessly, his movements as fluid as water. Suguru had expected as much. Toji wasn’t just strong, he was untouchable, an anomaly, a ghost slipping through the cracks of jujutsu itself.   

But Suguru didn’t care.   

He had to make him bleed.   

The ground cracked beneath their feet as they clashed. Fists met flesh, weapons scraped against barriers of cursed energy. Suguru’s attacks came like a relentless storm, one he refused to let die down.   

Then—  

Pain.   

A flash of steel.  

Suguru barely registered the blade slicing through him, his body jerking back, blood spraying from the wound. His vision blurred, his knees buckled.   

Toji scoffed. “Should’ve stayed down, kid.”  

Suguru gasped, his body refusing to listen to him, his cursed spirits fading into the ether.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight back.

His eyes drifted to you one last time.  

I failed you.  

Toji turned his back to him, stepping over the bodies without a second glance.   

And just like that, he was gone.   

Toji moved through the tunnels, his footsteps echoing against the damp walls. The job was done. The Star Plasma Vessel was dead. And the kid—Gojo Satoru—was gone.   

There was no one left to stop him.   

Or so he thought.   

As he neared the exit, a presence thick as the air before a storm settled in. A chill ran down his spine.

He stopped walking.   

And then he saw him.  

Satoru Gojo stood at the end of the tunnel, bathed in pale light, his uniform still stained with blood. His cerulean eyes, once filled with an almost annoying confidence, now held something else. Something vast.  

Something terrifying.  

“..You,” Toji muttered, gripping his weapon.  

Satoru didn’t respond. He only stared, his gaze empty, his expression unreadable.

Then

He laughs.   

Not one of amusement. Not one of arrogance.  

It was the kind of laugh that sent chills down even the strongest of men’s spines.  

“You look surprised,” Gojo said, his voice eerily calm. “Did you really think you killed me?”   

Toji moved. Fast.  

But Satoru was faster.   

The moment their battle began, it was already over.   

The world became light. Toji barely had time to register it—the overwhelming, crushing force of Limitless in its purest form. Blood filled his throat before he even felt the pain.      

Satoru loomed, eyes gleaming like the heavens themselves.  

Toji coughed, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. He knew. This was it.  

With what little breath he had left, he smirked. “Heh… you win.”   

Satoru didn’t flinch.   

Toji exhaled, his body growing cold. “My kid… Megumi. Find him.”   

Silence.  

Then—

A final breath.  

And Toji Fushiguro was no more.  

Jujutsu Tech loomed ahead, unchanged, yet everything felt wrong.   

Satoru stepped onto campus, his uniform still stained with blood. The fight replayed in his mind, the words spoken to him in Toji's final breath, the way the assassin crumpled beneath him. He had done what needed to be done.   

Now, all he wanted was to find you.

He needed to see you, to hear your voice, to feel you beside him. The weight of everything pressed against his chest, but the thought of you grounded him.

He quickened his pace, scanning the grounds, searching for you.

You’d probably be annoyed, maybe you’d scold him, make some snarky comment, tell him he looked like shit.   

He needed that right now.    

But something was wrong.  

The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating.

The second he stepped into the main hall a pit formed in his stomach.   

His eyes landed on Yaga as if he was waiting for him.   

Yaga sighed, rubbing his temple like he was bracing himself for something. “Satoru, we need to talk.”  

Something in his voice made Satoru’s skin prickle.  

His heart pounded in his chest. His six eyes scanned the school grounds not sensing your cursed energy.

“Where is she?” Satoru demanded, forceful. “Why isn’t she here?”  

Yaga hesitated. “Satoru—”  

“Where the hell is she, Yaga?” His voice was sharp now, his cursed energy humming beneath his skin.   

Yaga’s expression remained solemn and in almost whispered breath.. “She’s gone.”  

The world tilted.   

No. No.

That wasn’t possible. You were supposed to be here. He was supposed to come back to you, to.. 

“What?” His breath caught, the only word he was able to utter.  

“We... Suguru reported it back to us—”  

Satoru barely heard the rest. His ears rang, his vision tunneling.   

No.  

Not you.   

Anyone but you.  

His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. He had to see you. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe..

And then—  

“There’s more.” Yaga’s voice pulled him back. “It’s about Suguru.”  

Satoru barely looked at him, his thoughts still spiraling, but he forced himself to listen. “What about him?”  

Yaga exhaled. “He went back to his village.”  

Something about the way he said it made Satoru’s stomach twist.

Yaga’s expression darkened. “He killed them.”  

Satoru’s breath came out ragged.. “What?”  

“Everyone,” Yaga said quietly. “His parents. The villagers.. He's gone, Satoru.”  

The words slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs.   

No.  

Not Suguru.  

He had rushed back here thinking he’d find the two of you waiting for him.   

Instead, he found nothing.  

You were gone.

And Suguru..

Satoru felt his hands tremble, his entire body locking up. His mind screamed at him to do something, but there was nothing left to do.   

He had lost.   

And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo—the strongest—felt completely and utterly broken.

(a/n this is going to be a series, hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, I've been working on this concept for sometime)

[orieriee]

SERIES MASTERLIST | A Jujutsu Kaisen SMAU!

Reblogs are very appreciated 💓

Status: completed!

SUMMARY: geto suguru x reader! an alternative universe where Geto Suguru doesn't go down the wrong way.

SYPNOSIS:

Y/N L/N is a special shaman from a jujutsu family. Y/N was sent to Tokyo to go on missions to prove their worth as the next heir. With the ability of 'flow', a cursed technique that allows its user to see and manipulate forces of energy freely. Y/N stumbled across Geto Suguru amidst a dark aura, carrying a weight of chaotic and dark energy.

Will Y/N be able to help Geto overcome his turmoil? Will Y/N fulfill the lifelong anticipation and succeed in becoming the next heir?

Time setting: 2007, a year after Amanai Riko's death, before Geto Suguru's breaking point.

DISCLAIMER:

This will be a slight crossover with chainsaw man because I needed a mentor figure who is not known in Jujutsu Kaisen. I do not own any of the characters from Jujutsu Kaisen or Chainsaw Man. The characters belong to Gege Akutami as the creator of Jujutsu Kaisen and Tatsuki Fujimoto as the creator of Chainsaw Man. I only own the story plot of this work of fiction.

I will also mix in a written story for the plot so it's not just the SMAU story. Also english isn't my first language so excuse any grammar errors in the story (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

author's note: I had this plot since last year but didn't post it because I was very busy. And boy was this plot tucked in the dusty corner of my gallery, untouched, so I decided to pick it up again! Also I apologize in advance if it's a little OOC, it has been a while since I watched or read JJK 😔🙏

© written and published by orieriee on tumblr. Please do not copy or repost in any other platform.

Jujutsu Kaisen SMAU MASTERLIST

Prologue - "You look terrible" + character corner

Chapter 1 - We're Still the Strongest

Chapter 2 - You Don't Look Well

Chapter 3 - The Summer Heat is Getting to Me

Chapter 4 - Light or Darkness?

Chapter 5 - Burn Them All

Chapter 6 - Light

Chapter 7 - Another Place to Visit

Chapter 8 - Why are We Hiding?

Chapter 9 - "Ah yes, the ex-boyfriend"

Chapter 10 - I Can Protect Our Clan

Chapter 11 - Duh?

Chapter 12 - Potential Husband...?

Chapter 13 - Three Years

Chapter 14 - I Can Sense It

Chapter 15 - Epilogue

© published on 10/01/25 by orieriee

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Miss Raven! I am here today to ask if you have any thoughts on Ortho’s age. I see a lot of people saying that Ortho is mentally a child which is the reason he’s left out of a lot of like x reader stuff which I totally understand why that would be uncomfortable. Sometimes I see people saying that Ortho is actually closer to 16 though? I’m kinda confused now so I wanted your opinion. Thanks and sorry if this is an uncomfortable subject or something.

Like I expressed in this post about Malleus’s mental age, I don’t think there’s a very obvious right or wrong answer to this. To the second anon, please refer to the post I linked to answer your question.

I understand that people can be uncomfortable shipping Ortho with other characters, who are typically teenagers or actual adults, due to how he appears very young. That’s entirely their right to do so, and it’s a valid stance to have. I myself choose to avoid shipping Ortho too, but I have additional reasons that I won’t get into here since it gets sort of personal 😅 However, I also hold the opinion that Ortho is not mentally a child, even if he may physically present as one because of his small stature.

Let’s quickly review the lore behind Ortho and why some fans see him as a child. He’s a technomantic android created by Idia and imbued with the memories of the original Ortho, the younger Shroud brother who passed away in a horrible accident. In 6-75, we learn that Idia was 10 years old at the time of this accident, meaning that Ortho was 2 years younger than him at 8 (since Idia is currently 18 and, in book 7, Ortho is starting his first year at RSA as a 16-year old).

Ortho mentions in his Birthday Gear vignettes that he has the strongest birthday memories of 11 years ago. If we assume Ortho is 16ish now (also stated in his Birthday Gear), this seems to imply that OG!Ortho died after his 5th birthday, perhaps as young as 5 years old. Idia would be 7ish around the time Ortho is 5. Factoring in the 2 years that pass after Ortho’s death, Idia is would be 9-10ish. This creates a potential contradiction, as the S.T.Y.X. researchers appear to claim Idia was 10 at the time of Ortho’s death and not 2 years after it. The only way this works is if they were talking about 10 year-old Idia in the present, but Idia was actually closer to 7-8 when he hacked the security systems 💦 I’m going to assume ghat the “strongest birthday memories” mentioned in the Birthday Gear vignettes simply refers to a very detailed memory due to the happiness OG!Ortho experienced that year, not that it was the last birthday he experienced before death.

It should also be noted that it took Idia roughly 2 years to actually make the technomantic android we now know as Ortho. If we add these 2 years to Ortho's original age at death (5 to 8), he would be around 7-10ish in his new form. For the sake of simplicity, I will assume the older age estimates in the rest of their discussion.

Ortho's official profile lists his height as 148 cm, which is significantly more than the height of the average 10-year old boy (~138.5 cm). His actual height is, however, very close to the average height of a 12-year old boy (149 cm). Ortho at this point also sounds different than the child Ortho we see in Idia's post-OB flashback, indicating that our Ortho is slightly older than at the time of death. Idia most likely designed robo!Ortho to match the age Ortho would have been at, had he lived those 2 years.

Altogether, this, at best, places Ortho at 8 years old minimum and 10, maybe 12 years old maximum. That makes him not even a teenager yet--so why do I think he's actually closer to 16 mentally and not 10-12? Because he knows much more than the average child does and is able to very eloquently verbalize his vast knowledge.

Now, I do think an argument can be made that Ortho only knows as much as he does (including his vocabulary) because of his inherent nature as a robot and not as an organic being. Ah, and here's the crux of the issue: can we judge an android by the same standards as that of a human??? In my eyes, a gifted or genius child cannot compete with the capabilities of a supercomputer. Ortho is equipped with very advanced learning algorithms, which allow him to pick up on and learn quickly--and this is something that I equate with his ability to grow and develop as though he were human. In Fairy Gala If, Ortho defines his own understanding of evolution and applies that concept to his runway walk. Even the emotions that Ortho currently expresses are the result of him learning from the media he consumes and then emulating them. He's formally recognized as a student late in book 6 as well, which effectively makes him a first year (most of which are 16ish). I assume that Ortho even starts to take classes meant for first year high school students at that point, and has no issues with the difficulty of the material. I think that, to label him as 10-12ish or even 8, it unnecessarily infantilizes Ortho minimizes his own advanced ability to learn and grow and change: things that are most definitely human.

I also think that Ortho's behaviors are too mature for a typical child. That's not to say that he's the peak of maturity (let's not forget how often he defaults to trying to laser beam his problems away), but Ortho is typically very logical and relies on cold, hard facts to make optimal decisions. He is also the one that usually moderates Idia and tries to encourage healthy behaviors in him, like socializing, leaving his room, sleeping on time, eating well, trying new things, etc. Ortho is essentially his brother's keeper for a good chunk of the main story and in vignettes (like Ceremonial Robes) and events (Harveston Sledathon, Wish Upon a Star, etc.). This isn't an absolute, of course. I can see people pointing out that Ortho only acts logical because he's a robot, or that little kids are sometimes forced to "grow up" faster due to their pressing circumstances (which, in this case, is Idia and his anxiety). These are valid interpretations too. If memory serves correctly, the students at NRC don't exactly treat Ortho like some baby that wandered onto campus. At most, they tend to just refer to him as Idia's kid brother. ("Kid" here not referring to Ortho literally being a child; it could also be interpreted as "younger" brother or the "younger/little" Shroud.) The few who do make fun of him for looking young tend to be mobs or painted as misunderstanding him (as is the case with Ortho's Ignihyde Gear vignettes). Ortho even seems to be surprised at being mistaken for a child by Diasomnia mobs: "A kid? Oh, you must not know who I am since you're freshmen."

Idia had the liberty to design Ortho's body however he wanted. As previously stated though, it's likely that he modeled the body off of the age of death rather than updating it to reflect a more mature mentality. In other words, Ortho's body doesn't reflect what he knows or how he acts. If I had to give a real world comparison, it's like how there are really short adults--but that doesn't make them any less of an adult just because they're short; they often can't help their bodies being that way. (In Idia's book 7 dream, Ortho at age 16 is still depicted as being short.)

I do think that, to some degree, Ortho is aware that he presents like a child and knows how to use this to his advantage to get his way. He sometimes plays it up to beg Idia to come out of his room, and, in his Ignihyde Gear vignettes, Ortho plays innocent to Trein so that it seems like some mob students are bullying him (even though the truth is that Ortho was playing embarrassing videos of said mob students for he public to view). "Professor, I was just minding my own business and drying the sheets when these two started yelling at me... *sniffle*"

Those are my thoughts! Please bear in mind that this is just my own interpretation; it's in no way canon, and nor am I insisting it to be. Ortho's age is officially stated as "undefined", so I don't think there's a clear number we can put to him. It's really up to individual interpretation! I hope that I was able to provide both sides to the argument and sufficient information for you to come to your own conclusions about Ortho's age ^^

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 18

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: Two days in a row? I hope you like it!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17

• ··········· • ············ •

Viktor had once told Jayce that the lab should only be open to two people: him and Jayce. Anyone else was a distraction to their work.

However, as he glanced at you and your focused face as you tried to work on your rune shaping, it had him retracting his statement. Yes, you were a distraction, but Viktor couldn't help but welcome it into the lab. It was as if you had been there since the beginning. The way you lazily draped over the couch or leaned into his table. At some point during some of the past days, he found himself expecting to see you either enter the lab or already sat at your spot.

It was a strange and yet familiar emotion that he had felt once before. When he met Jayce, there was this invisible pull that linked both Piltover’s man of progress and the kid from Zaun, who had stolen an Academy uniform.

They fit together; despite all the bickering and head-butting, they both knew they would be there for each other, whether it was at their highest high or the end of the world. That connective tissue that passed between him and Jayce was made of the strongest alloy in Runeterra.

And then, you came along. When he crossed eyes with your disgruntled figure on the night of the rocket attack, he felt it. The same electricity jolt as when he met Jayce. Small strands were slowly becoming a rope that connected him to you. Even though he didn’t care to understand why, he let the familiar pull of thread manifest. Much like Jayce, your presence was welcomed in his space. And much like Jayce, you quickly found a way to his heart. Even if the space you occupied was entirely different from Jayce’s, you both were a part of him.

He knew you liked sweet tea without sugar or black tea with tons of it. He had caught you humming and singing when you’d been helping keep watch on the lab. He felt the love that you and Esther shared every time both of your eyes met. He learned that you have an expression only for when Jayce annoys you. He was keeping track in his mind of all the places where he had touched you, and you hadn't immediately flinched. He enjoyed it when you called him Vik with a grin on your lips that changed the intonation of his nickname.

And at the present moment, he had learned that he very much enjoyed you calling him 'Professor.' He made his face grow red, and his mind jumped to scenarios it had no business jumping to while he was at the lab.

It didn't stop him from stealing sideways glances at you from his seat at the table. The small twitch of your hand as you spoke the rune, followed by a frustrated frown when the rune didn’t work. The scientist looked at your hands, and his own started to warm as he thought about how well his long fingers intertwined with yours. He chuckled when you groaned at the panel, shaking it in frustration, the old panel rattling at the abuse.

When he sat down next to you after working in the malfunctioning reader, you immediately tucked your feet under his thigh. The sound that escaped him was more of a surprise than disapproval. The gesture was so domestic and comfortable.

You started to quickly shuffle away while he had to consciously make his movements relaxed and nonchalant as he stopped you. His first instinct was to just grab your legs and keep them in place. Lies. His first instinct was to grab your legs and place them in his lap, letting the warmth of you help with his aching bones. He contented himself with keeping your feet warm under his leg.

He enjoyed the silence in the lab, even when Jayce cursed and grumbled on his workstation or when you hammered the little blue crystals from the board. It was a fulfilling calmness. He was surrounded by the machinations of the people he cared about. And as he was lulled into a relaxing state, somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he had no desire to do any more work today. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but it was surprising.

All he wanted to do for the rest of his workday was to sit on this heavenly upholstered couch absorbing your heat while listening to Jayce tinker away angrily.

You groaned in frustration once more, and he wrapped his hand around your knee, drawing soothing circles on it. You didn’t acknowledge it, and when he looked at you, he saw a line between your eyebrows, showing your feelings.

In his mind’s eye, an image flashed. Him, leaning down, smoothing that line with his thumb, and then placing a kiss where it showed, while you scrunch your nose in mock protest. It was a clear memory of something that had never happened. It felt like seconds separated that gentle calmness from when chaos broke loose, even though it had been hours.

One moment he was welcoming Sky into the lab, trying to leash Jayce's misplaced anger, and the next their assistant was lying on the floor bleeding.

“Jayce! Go get help!” The broader man nodded and jumped to action, leaving you and him to look after the slightly younger woman.

Viktor's thoughts were running. The quickness of events still not completely sinking in. He had quickly spared a glance at Jayce's table, where a metal ball seemed to have expanded with the heat of Jayce's welding machine. He cursed under his breath and looked back at Sky.

You were gently caressing her head and telling her to breathe, and for a moment Viktor wished he had the people skills to be able to calm someone else down when he was panicking.

He kept applying pressure to the blanket but stopped short when you ripped the glove from your hand, his mouth open to protest. The glow still amazed him. and even though it was faint, it was awe-inducing seeing your fingers shimmer with light.

Before he could finish calling your name, something shifted. Not just in you, but in the room. There was a buzz in his ears, a sudden temperature rise, and his eyes watering.

As he tried to adjust to this weird atmospheric change, you abruptly shoved the blanket away from Sky's midsection. An almost feral move, making him almost lose the precarious balance he had managed on the floor.

Your hand gripped the place where the woman had been hurt as if you were trying to tear that piece of her out. There was something artificial in your movements, like something was doing it for you.

The hand you placed on the injuries turned charcoal black, and the white uniform his assistant wore started to look like it was being burned, small holes rimmed with an incandescent orange glow appearing on it. His eyes widened, scared it was burning Sky, but the girl only whimpered, and when he tried to look closer, only her uniform was melting.

The black on your hand started to grow, small black lines climbing your arm, and with the little Viktor knew about anatomy, it seemed like it was flowing upwards through your veins.

He called your name, and whatever looked back at him was not you. Your welcoming eyes were cold and unfeeling; he would dare to go as far as angry. They reminded him of a cat eye with a blue glow light reflecting in the pupils. Viktor quieted down as you kept staring at him coldly, searching for something in his face, and when he tried to call your name again, you only tilted your head. From the corner of his eye, he saw three red dots appear on the front of your clothing, mirroring Sky’s injuries. He tried to call out to you, but when you blinked, he saw the warmth in your eyes come back. You gasped in pain, and you slumped over, laying face down on the floor.

There were a couple of seconds before Viktor's brain restarted to focus. He looked down at Sky’s burned uniform and noticed three small red healed scars, and then his eyes shifted to the pool of blood starting to come from under you. He shuffled quickly towards you right before Jayce burst in the door with several enforcers. His partner's face was a mask of confusion and disorientation, but Viktor shook his head. Not the time.

"We need to get them to the hospital," Viktor said, still sitting weirdly on the floor, and Jayce quickly nodded.

Viktor's heartbeat was becoming faster by the second. He had been scared. For a moment he had been scared. Not for you, but of you.

• ··········· • ············ •

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[socialistexan]

Per YouGov, Trump has a -8% approval, but he has a positive approval from the following groups:

Men: +1% (women -16%)

White people: +5% (non-white -33%)

Gen X: +5% (Gen Z, Millennials, and Boomers all negative)

Conservatives +71% (moderates -19%)

Republicans +81% (independents -24%)

No income brackets has a positive approval, working class (-10%), middle class (-8%), upper class (-7%), though YouGov lumps everyone over $100k/year in the same catagory, so we don't know the numbers for the extremely wealthy.

So generally, Trump's strongest base is Gen X white men making over 100k/year.

They don't break it down by race+age or race+income, but I'd be willing to bet his numbers with Gen Z men is also much higher than the overall number.