#my brain only lets me listen to these two shows

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader

This is a mashup of all the timelines basically (._.) Starscream has been on the brain recently... In the firsts of a long journey, I have gotten my first two blokees from blind boxes (Grapple and Ironhide). Let's see how long it'll take me to get Starscream TvT

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Ever since you joined the Vosian Air Academy as a young cadet, Starscream had been there. Everyone knew who Starscream was. How could you not, when he was such a high-profile cybertronian? You thought that the most you would ever see of him at the academy was his printed frame on the glossy posters stuck up everywhere - some with motivational slogans, some showing off some genuinely impressive flying maneuvers, and some advertising the war effort against the Quintessons.

Understandably, it came as a surprise to learn that he would be personally taking on your first year tactical maneuvers class.

Even before your first class, rumours ran rampant. Starscream is very strict, your fellow cadets whispered, in tones of both fear and admiration. You're fragged if he picks on you. Better avoid his punishments. Didn't you hear what happened to the bot who failed to execute his instructions the first time?

Your apprehension, however, was definitely outweighed by admiration and curiosity. No matter how snappy he seemed, your future instructor was still the Air Commander of Vos, which was no small feat. Unlike several other government positions which required the right connections rather than skills, Air Commander was not a position one could hope to take on without truly having mastered the skies.

The first time you see him, you, as well as many others, are instantly in awe of his commanding presence. He's taller than you thought, frame polished and his beautiful wings a shimmering white. The sharp lines of his faceplate and the delicate point of his chin exemplify his graceful form, and his optics flick over the new recruits in a calculating manner. The expression on his faceplate is severe, as you expected, but not cruel. He barks out a command for you to get in a line, snarling when inexperience clashes with the rush to obey, several of you crashing clumsily into each other.

"Finally," Starscream snaps, when you eventually arrange yourselves in a semi-straight line. "If you lot cannot execute even the simplest of commands, how do you expect to survive the war?"

It sounds harsh, but he's not wrong. It sinks in again that you are here because, despite all propaganda saying otherwise, it seems that the war against the Quintessons is not going well. Why else would there have been a mass recruitment exercise? You, and the rest of your class, are going to be shipped straight off to war when you graduate the academy. As the reality of the situation sinks in, Starscream's words suddenly seem less like a scolding and more like a warning. You straighten your frame a little more, shoulders back, chassis out. If the Air Commander himself is giving you tips on how to survive the war, by Primus, you're going to listen.

Starscream announces waspishly that you are going to learn how to do a breakaway maneuver today.

"Everyone," Starscream threatens, "and I mean everyone, is going to perform this maneuver successfully within this solar cycle, or there will be consequences. Understood?"

There are only a few weak "yes sir's" from the line, but Starscream simply scoffs and chooses not to waste his time enforcing a show of authority. It's clear from the wide optics fixated on him that he's already won your admiration.

"Watch," is all he says, before he's smoothly transforming before you into his alt-mode and, with a cacophonous boom, blasts off into the stratosphere.

All of you can't hold back your shouts of amazement as you scatter from your haphazard line to get a better look. The F-15 dips and twirls though the sky, slicing through fluffy clouds like butter before slowing to a stop. Then, as all of you watch with mounting excitement, Starscream begins his demonstration - the F-15 begins to gain speed, faster, and faster again, until you're certain he's going to break the sound barrier and blip into nothingness - when suddenly, the jet swerves at a supremely clean ninety-degree angle without losing any of its speed.

All your classmates are shouting and hooting at the frankly incredible demonstration, even as Starscream transforms back into bot-mode and comes to a smooth stop in front of you. It might have been your imagination, but his plates are drawn less tight around him, and he exudes a breathless, self-satisfied air. This you can understand - all seekers would agree that the feeling of flying is second to none.

You're dreamily replaying Starscream's demonstration in your processor, and startle when a finger jabs into your field of vision. Your optics cycle, and you freeze when you realize that none other than Starscream is towering right over you, a calculating sneer on his faceplate.

"You," he snaps. "Seems that you have a very clear recollection of my demonstration, have you not?"

You nod, unable to speak, and watch with rapt fascination as his intake curls into a smirk.

"In that case," Starscream drawls, "you should have no trouble going first, hmm?"

You stiffen. The upperclassmen had warned you about this - Starscream tended to choose cadets he could make examples of, for better or for worse. But as you meet his optics, it's not cruelty you find - but a challenge.

"Well?" Starscream says. "We don't have the entirety of the solar cycle to be standing around like idiots."

The rest of the cadets have fallen into an almost horrified silence - yet, you can feel the relief emanating from the others that they haven't been picked. You prickle at that. You've not been picked to take the fall - you look at Starscream again, full in the faceplate, a simmering defiance beneath your plates. A hand on his cocked hip now, his optics boring into yours, daring you to accept. You remember what you saw in his faceplate the first time. Severity, sure, but not cruelty.

What if, you wonder, it's all been a misconstrued. Starscream doesn't pick on the weaker ones. He picks the ones who look like they're up to a challenge - and by Primus, you are going to impress him or die trying.

You stride up to a patch of open land, engines thrumming as you prepare to take off. The initial feeling of leaving the ground behind, launching yourself into open space always thrills you. You transform, and waste no time in accelerating with a sonic boom - soaring higher and higher and higher, engines warm and your processor humming with the ecstasy of flying. Slowing to a hovering stop, you take in the tiny figures of your classmates below you, so small they look like dots.

You accelerate, slicing through cloud after cloud after cloud and, it's now or never - your engines scream as you twist as sharply as you can to your right, narrowly avoiding careening off balance as a burst of speed aids your recovery. Energon thrums through your frame with the adrenaline of it all.

"Not bad," comes a raspy voice from your left. You almost tumble out of the air in shock. Starscream, in his alt-mode, soaring alongside you. Had he been here the whole time? "Descend, cadet."

Both of you reach the ground in tandem, with you still reeling from the shock of Starscream flying beside you, staggering ungracefully as soon as your pedes hit the ground.

"Our first volunteer was able to execute the maneuver on their first attempt," Starscream says. His optics are still fixed on you, appraising. If you look really hard, you might detect a hint of satisfaction, dare you say, at your performance. "I expect that the rest of you will have no trouble following suit."

And by some minor miracle, your entire squadron does manage to pull the maneuver off by sundown, even if Starscream does lose his temper here and there.

"Primus, he's a slavedriver," one of your classmates moans. "I can barely feel my wings anymore." And it's true - your own frame screams from exertion, but you've accomplished more in a single day with Starscream than with any other instructor. The ache in your frame is well-earned, and your respect for Starscream has only grown - he might be snappy on the outside, but the careful way with which he'd guided each cadet through the maneuver did not go unnoticed.

The first stellar cycle passed by reasonably uneventfully, but you were proudly able to say that you'd distinguished yourself as one of Starscream's top pupils - his optics would soften ever so slightly when it came to you. Unfortunately, the rest of his hard work would go abruptly up in flames. An unexpected Quintesson attack on the Air Academy had left you the sole survivor of your entire squadron. And before you even had time to take in this shocking loss, the miner Orion Pax had exposed Sentinel Prime for the fraud he was and been reborn as Optimus Prime. Just like that, the Cybertron you had always known split into two factions. The Quintessons had always been a common enemy - but now, this looked grimly like civil war.

In the aftermath of Sentinel's downfall, Starscream had searched for you, first thing, something akin to panic in his optics. "Thank Primus," he muttered. "Come, we have no time - " And you looked around you as Cybertron split before your eyes, seekers taking to the skies to follow the bot now known as Megatron. Starscream seems to sense your hesitation, and pauses.

"I-" he begins, servos clenching into fists as his wings hitch upwards. "I will not question your decision." You can see it though, in every trembling iota of his frame, that he wants you to come with him. And, glancing behind you at a crumbling Cybertron, the only thing familiar to you is Starscream - you decide right there and then that you would follow him to the ends of the earth.

You meet his optics as you launch yourself upwards, and are nearly knocked back by the overwhelming relief that you find. No matter what the uncertain future holds, you are certain that Starscream will always be there.

Megatron, your new leader, dubs you the decepticons. A few vorns pass as your exiled group finds its feet - Starscream has been made Second in Command. You expected no less. And you suspect that the reason you've made it so long without major incident is that Starscream has been secretly shielding you from the worst of your leader. However, with each stellar cycle you grow restless - you miss Cybertron, your homeworld, and you begin to question Megatron's cruelty. That was where he and Starscream differed - Megatron's harshness stemmed from outright cruelty, whereas Starscream's severity was never without reason. Did you choose the wrong side, after all? You find yourself disagreeing with most of your leader's bloodthirsty ideals - yet, Starscream is still here. And surely, you couldn't go wrong by staying at his side?

Watching Megatron make an example of a fellow seeker is the last straw for you - he'd forced every decepticon to watch as he pummeled dents into their delicate frame, ripped wires and leaking energon and battered wings when he was done. You'd turned away and shot off into the skies without a second thought as soon as he'd left. Heel thrusters screaming as you push yourself further, you rocket though the atmosphere until you see the twinkling of the stars in deep space - so close to zero-gravity, every inch of your frame screaming at you to get as far away as possible, when suddenly, you're thrown off-course by a large servo clamping onto your pede.

You shriek, but what's even more shocking is the fact that it's Starscream who has a death grip on you.

"How- how did you-?"

"I trained you, in case you've forgotten," Starscream snarls. "Of course I know your maneuvers."

Both of you fall silent for a few nanokliks. "If I let go," Starscream says, "are you going to jet off?"

Silently, you shake your helm. Honestly, you can't remember the last time that it was just you and him. Megatron's been very demanding - the air commander looks ragged, plates pulled tight with anxiety every time you see him, which was rarely.

Starscream lets go of you with a ragged ex-vent, both of you hovering in place.

You're genuinely not sure where to go from here. You processor spins with the implications of the future at the hands of a violent warlord, at a war that has no end in sight. A war is something you want no part in, but it seems your choices are limited - the battered frame of the seeker flashes through your processor, and your desperation surges once more - you are this close to leaving everything you've ever known behind, if it means escaping the horrors of the war.

"Stop running," Starscream hisses. There's a pinched look on his faceplate, and your wings droop for a nanoklik - guilt sparks though you as you consider the fact that Starscream has been on the receiving end of way worse treatment. Your duty is to him - you feel ashamed that you even considered leaving him behind. But unexpectedly, Starscream ex-vents, and he looks more tired than you've ever seen him.

"I don't want this, either," he mutters. "You - you're all I have left. I understand wanting to run from the war, but..."

It goes unspoken, but you hear him loud and clear.

Don't run from me.

"I can't... I can't help you if you turn away," he says, eventually. You move a little closer, enough for your EM fields to brush - there's guilt there, as if he's blaming himself for putting you in this position - protectiveness, too, and you realise for the first time that Starscream genuinely sees you as his charge.

You're deep enough in the fighting as is, but damned if Starscream isn't determined to see you through this war unscathed.

"Anything happens," he rasps, an oddly open look in his optics. "You come to me. Understood?"

Caught in a war you want no part in, you're aware that Starscream is trying to shield you from the worst of it while he attempts to make the best of a horrible situation. At the very least, you know he has your back, and you hope he knows that you have his.

"Yes, sir!"

[murdleandmarot]

So how's the ALW brainrot going??

He has ruined my life, and I will be suing.

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[crimsonbubble]

Scorched Tangerines

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, kinda mean dom joong, pussy drunk joong, joong is kinda pervy in this, voyeurism, recording, fingering, cum play, phone sex (of sorts), overstimulation, breeding kink, creampie *not proofread, just pure horny

[full fic vers of this :D]

Hongjoong knew he was gonna get an earful once the others found out where you were but right now, he doesn’t care, and neither should you.

The only thing he needed to focus on was slipping another condom on. He eyed the condoms he had pulled off in your earlier endeavours, feeling his cock throb as he recalled the way you begged for him. The condoms prevented him from giving you what you wanted, a dull heat burning in his legs as he denied you what you truly wanted.

Even with the thin latex of the condom, he can feel the heat of your wet cunt. Your body shook with each punishing twitch of his hips. Your body only got hotter as Hongjoong came inside the condom again. You whined as you pushed your hips back against him, pulsing around his cock. Hongjoong stilled your hips, pulling and tying off the condom and adding it to the slowly growing pile of used condoms.

Hongjoong caressed your hips softly, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine. He pressed his fingers against your throbbing cunt, gently scissoring you open. He kept a firm hand on your ass, bringing you to another orgasm as he continued to curl his fingers against your sweet spot. Hongjoong spread his fingers apart, watching how your pretty hole stretched for him. He chuckled as he listened to you whine, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him back inside you.

“You want it, pretty girl? Yea? Want me to cum in my baby’s pretty cunt, huh?” Hongjoong sat behind you, eyes flickering between your pulsing cunt and the tied-up condoms. You hiccuped through your sensitivity, peeking over your shoulder when you heard him rustling around. Hongjoong pressed against your back, deepening your arch.

Hongjoong carefully unties the used condoms, peeking up at you as you shift in anticipation. He pressed a chaste kiss to your clit before he did something he has dreamed of just a few nights prior. Hongjoong pressed the opening of the condom into your fluttering cunt. You let out a startled gasp, uselessly clenching around the globs of cum being poured into your cunt.

Hongjoong emptied the other two condoms into your acing cunt. Hongjoong grabbed his phone from under the mangled sheets. He recorded the lewd sight of your sore cunt full of his cum, slowly fingering you again, making sure to capture the way his cum leaked out of you. He zoomed in on the way his cum coated your swollen pussy, taking his fingers out to spread your folds. He gently traced his fingers over your clit, smiling in satisfaction from behind the camera.

He plunged his fingers back into your cunt, missing your sweet spot on purpose. He quietly sent the video to the group chat with the other members, tossing the phone aside for now. Hongjoong sat up on his knees, tapping his leaking tip against your twitching clit. He wasted no time in pinning your hips down to the bed, drilling his hips into at speeds that you didn’t think a man could go.

Hongjoong felt his phone vibrate against his leg, snatching it up with a triumphant smirk on his face. Hongjoong pressed himself against your back, tucking a hand under your body and pressing against your chin, lifting your head out of the pillows right as he accepted the video call. All of their complaints died in their throat as they took in the look of your fucked out face, drowning in euphoria as Hongjoong split you open on his cock, “C’mon baby, show them how pretty you look taking my cock.”

Mumbled nonsense poured out of you as he pushed your hips against the mattress for more leverage. You tried to look into the camera but unshed tears blurred your vision. Hongjoong angled his hips up, a loud groan leaving his lips as your cunt clamped down around him. His brain went fuzzy as he finally gave you what you have been craving. Your body shuddered as more wetness continued to gush out of you.

Hongjoong pulled out, his chest heaving as a wicked smirk spread across his face. He grabbed the phone, flipping the camera to show the way your pussy soaked the sheets under you. You felt lightheaded and floaty as your sore cunt continued to pulsate and throb. Your eyes fluttered as Hongjoong parted your folds again, showing off the way more cum leaks out of you.

You don’t know when Hongjoong cut the call but you do know that you woke up halfway through the cleanup of the mess you two made. You gawked at the sheets, eyeing the puddle of cum under you and the soaked sheets. “Didn’t know you could do that, princess. But now the others are gonna want it too.”

[lylianrae]

A list of all the things I have manifested ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

We manifest everything in our lives btw - the good and the bad which is why I will be including both to prove that the law does not discriminate. If you can successfully become poor, you can most definately become rich with the same ease because everything is just a state.

Long hair

AHH this is one of my favourite manifestations. Ever since I was young I had a weird bob with a fringe (often crooked) and I wanted long hair like all the other girls (lmaoo) but my mum was strict so she didn't let me grow it out. Although I didn't know about manifestation back then, every new year and birthday I would wish for long hair and I would pretend I was a princess with butt long hair. Guess what, somewhere along the line, my mum let me grow it out and now I have butt length hair (don't really know what to do with it tho </3).

As all kids do, I went through an emo phase where I chopped off like half of my hair like 4 years ago. I literally grew back 7-8" of hair within a month because my parents got too mad. I knew about manifestation here so I just assumed my hair always grows unaturally fast. Same with when I cut bangs, they grew past my chin within a couple of weeks.

Manifesting my way into a private school

Honestly this just shows that you dont need 2430430 hours of working on your self concept to manifest. Literally so many celebs, including Marylin Monroe (the queen), manifested their fame with awful self concept. Likewise, here I was possibly going through the worst time of my life back then. I would wake up at 8 am and start studying and end at 11 pm despite being only 10 at the time. I was so freaking stressed and envious of all the other children and went into a depressive spiral where my two options were pass or die. I didn't even have enough practice and I cried my self to sleep on most nights. Anyways, when i did the exam I was deathly calm and even after the exam I was apparently so chill so my parents thought I failed.

I literally left 9 questions on one paper but throughout the summer, everytime I found a dandelion I would make a wish and imagine digging a tunnel to the examiners room where I secretly change my answers into the right ones (lmfao my tiny 10 yr old brain - idek how it worked). Anyways my results were sent back to me a month later on a random October evening and I got a really high mark. Even after 7 years of going to this school I havn't met anyone who has gotten a mark higher than mine.

Curly hair / straight hair

Sigh. We always want things we don't have. When I was younger I had really straight hair like 1A asian hair but when I was like 10, I really wanted curly hair and I would try to curl it often. After a few months, I manifested a curling iron and my hair literally became naturally curly like right after a wash it would curly af when before it was dead straight. Naturally I grew bored of it and I wanted my straight hair back and for ages I began overcomplicating the law and struggled to manifest it. It was only recently when I actually let go of the 3D that I manifested the silky, shiny straight hair.

Social life?

This is also a funny one, just shows how easily you can manifest. So back in 2021 after lockdown I felt so lonely and felt so left out of my friendship group so after a few months I began stressing myself out and spiraling for like 30 minutes, sobbing to myself about how I was so lonely and how nobody loved me (💀). Anyways it became reality, I found myself uncomfortable in many social situations and found myself becoming forgotten far more easily. I don't really remember the details but it was so bad that I think I accidently manifested social anxiety (oh well we still up tho).

However I am a loa girly so I found myself listening to popularity subliminals and slowly (but surely) my mindset change from having no friends to being the most popular girl in the year. Like no joke I became friends with like 3 people from different social circles so at lunchtime we had to join up like 3 different tables so we can all sit together. Overall I got myself 20+ close friends and even my ex friends began to admire me although it had ended badly. Even now, when someone says something thats untrue - for example saying that they are dumb when they are not, they would be like "ahaha so its like when Rae (me) says she has no friends, the whole school knows who Rae is".

Clear skin

This was sort of in the beginning of my loa (law of attraction back then) journey, I just randomly found out what subliminals were and was still quite new to everything. Now I don't even understand how it happened but I had busted some capillaries under my skin and it looked like small red viens under my skin and bro I was freaking out at the time. One night I was like just, I had enough, I'm going to get myself better skin and so I listened to a sub once for 3-4 days and on like the 4th day, my cheeks began to heat up which was odd and the next day it was 90% gone. Just like magikkkk.

Desired university?

Guys. Feeling is the secret. Don't you ever forgot that - not feeling as in emotions but rather the feeling of knowing. I had 2 entrance exams to do to apply for my universities and it was a stressful time where I wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't eating enough simply because I didn't have the time. Like I come home from school and would have 3-4 hours of homework, then I need to revise for tests and then the remaining time would be spent on the entrance exams. Each past paper took 2 hours and I have around 13s per questions and I was already struggling on time. Anyways, I began to hate them and I would often complain to my mum saying things like "My score got even lower!!" or "I hate it so much" or "My head hurts / eyes hurt".

Guess what? Not only did I see my score decrease over time but I also made such a silly mistake on the most important entrance exam which I needed for 4/5 of my universities. I left a question and completely forgot to mark on the answer so when I finished the section I realised I had one more space on the sheet with like 10s to spare. I didn't have enough time to go back and fix it and lemme say that I did so badly in the test. Even while waiting for results I was just like "ah it would be a miracle if I scored above this bla bla".

I got the score back and it was so freaking bad like I did not stand a chance at my university at all. However, I started to affirm for a place and to my utter shock and surprise my desired university reached out and offered me an interview. I knew people who had like scores which were 50% better than mine and they still got rejected pre-interview. Anyways I began stressing about the interview and the results of the whole thing and boom. I got rejected 3 days after my birthday lmaoo. But its okay because I'm reapplying and I learnt so much more. I'm redoing the entrance exam and my score is a loooot better than it ever was last year.

A key take away would be thoughts are the result of the state you are in. Your dwelling state manifests and I was focusing on the unrealness and the difficultly of getting into this uni and thats what manifested. At the time I was heartbroken and literally went through the 7 stages of grief and spent so many months trying to revise it only for me to focus on the 3D. Just know that everything is done in imagination and it appears in the 3D as a result.

Photographic memory

So this is also something I had manifested before I actually knew about loa but the takeaway here is that manifestation is always instant. I was around 11 reading a random book on my tiny kindle and the book was on how to develop a good memory and I was like ah that'll be useful. Anyways later in the car, I asked my dad about photographic memory and he sort of explained it to me. I just assumed that I have that and I told him I do. He just laughed at me and said thats something that you have to train for and I was not impressed lmao. Inside my tiny brain, I was just like nope, I already have photographic memory and I dropped that thought. Let me tell you, my memory is actually photographic and has helped me out on so many occasions like my brain just takes pictures of things.

Learning fast

This is also something I did before I knew loa, I was just always wondering why the other kids couldn't grasp concepts as easily as I did. Literally in every lesson I would be like ah I learn so fast and now I am actually blessed with the ability to grasp complex subjects so fast. A favourite example of mine would be when I was obsessed with music but to take it to a higher level you need to be able to play an instrument. I couldn't at the time and my teacher told me the requirements a week before the actual deadline. I have never actually played piano with both hands but one day I sat down and worked through the entire song (fur elise by Beethoven) which is a grade 5 (I think) and it normally takes people months / weeks to learn. I learnt the whole thing in 3 days and from then on, I could play piano like I had been doing for ages. Again the memory thing was so helpful because I never actually used any sheet music, I learnt it off a youtube video and I remembered every single note I needed to play.

Hourglass body + 22" waist

This was a couple of years ago when I actually didn't understand loa. Anyways long story short, I would do a 3 minute workout and then flex infront of the mirror all day (💀) and be like omg I have abs. Overtime, I actually got so skinny everyone around me kept pointing it out to me and my mum got so concerned that she took me to the doctor like 4 times. It was so funny, I would loose like 2-3kg overnight and my parents would have to buy better fitting uniform.

Bigger boobs

This was also back in the day (2021?) when I didn't understand how to manifest things easily af. I had an A cup but I wanted better boobies and I listened to like 2 subs for a week and I went to a B cup. But I just assumed I have a bigger cup size recently and I just skipped C and went to D+ (haven't measured in a long time).

I'm not done but I'm tired now bye bye

[scalpelsister]

.

[c0eu4]

Charles speaking dirty in french🤭🤭🤭🤭

CL16 | Dirty boy ♡

Summary: Y/n keeps bothering her boyfriend until he gives in and shows her how to be a good girl.

Warning: dirty talk, smut, no protect sex, dom!Charles, sub!reader, mean!Charles, handcuffs, a bit of hitting (soft)

A/N: enjoy<3

Translation: mon amour= my love | Chéri.e= darling

MASTERLIST requests are open

She sits on his lap, her hand passing through his brown hair. ''Mon amour, I'm trying to work.'' If there are two things that the young woman loves, it's annoying her boyfriend when he's trying to work and his horribly sexy French accent.

She kisses his cheek, her other hand running over his abs through his t-shirt. He feels a shiver down his spine, but doesn't give in to temptation. ''Chérie, please.''

She doesn't listen to him and kiss the crook of his neck, nibbing it softly. His hand found its way to her waist, rubbing it softly. ''Don't you want to take a break?'' She let her hand go under his t-shirt, using her fingerstip to touch his abs.

He sighs, from pleasure? Annoying? She does not know but she doesn't care. Her hand under his t-shirt keeps going up, her mouth continuing to stimulate his neck by leaving a few red marks and lovebites.

He didn't push her away, trying to focus on the computer screen in front of him. He begins to feel tight in his pants, her ass wiggling against him and her fingertips tracing the vertical line of his abs.

His hand which was on her waist goes down to caress her ass, squeezing it softly. ''T'as envie que je te baise hein?'' you want me to fuck you, huh?

She doesn't understand what he said but can't help and moan softly against his soft skin. He grabs her jaw and forces her head up to kiss her. She moans into the kiss and Charles takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, caressing the inside of her cheeks.

She removes his headphone and places it on the desk, running her hand through his hair. He picks her up and moves her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed. ''Qu'est ce que je vais faire de toi?'' What am I going to do with you?

She feels the excitement build even more in her body, his accent completely turning her brain. ''Tu es si irrésistible..'' You're so irresistible.

He removes his t-shirt, finally revealing his abs that she loves to caress so much. ''Take off all of your clothes.'' His voice was firm yet sweet. She listens to him and takes off her clothes, revealing her underwear to him. ''I said all of your clothes.'' She can't help but blush, even though Charles has seen her naked so many times.

She takes off her last clothes and watches him rummage through the drawer of his nightstand.

''Is it ok if I tie your wrist to the bed?'' She bit her lower lips. ''Yes. You can do whatever you want with me, my love.''

Charles smirks, taking off two handcuffs from the drawer, deftly tying one end around one of her wrist, securing it to the headboard. He repeated this process with her other wrist, leaving her bound and vulnerable in front of him.

He takes his time to take off his pants and joins her in bed, getting on top of her and one of his hands already trailing between her thighs. ''Je parie que tu es toute mouillée, mh?'' I bet you're soaking, mh?

She whines, wanting him to touch her. ''Please.. Charlie..'' He chuckles, his cold hand touching her inner thighs. She can't help but move her hips to try and show him her impatience. His fingers move up slowly and he slides one finger between her wet folds. ''Toute mouillée et rien que pour moi.'' All wet and only for me.

She closes her eyes, trying to move her hands but can't. Her head fell back against the pillow with a long moan of his name when she felt his lips against her bundle of nerves.

She can't help but squirm with pleasure as he continues to stimulate her with his tongue. And just as she was about to cum, Charles suddenly stopped and moved his kisses back to her stomach.

''What the hell Charles!'' she shouted, frustrated. He laughs, kissing her ribs. His laugh is deep and dark, almost frightening.

He rubs himself against her wet fold, making her moan deeply. He can feel the wet through his boxer and it turns him so much on. ''Putain Y/n tu vas me faire jouir juste parce que t'es autant mouillée.'' Damn Y/n you're gonna make me cum just because of your wetness.

''Charles..I need you!'' She whines, shaking violently under him. He doesn't wait longer and takes off his boxer and thrust roughly into her tight and wet cunt.

''Merde.. t'es si serré..'' shit.. you're so tight..

He doesn't wait any longer to almost pull out and go back in roughly.

''Tu la prends si bien.'' You take it so well.

If he keeps talking like that, she'll probably cum faster than expected.

''Oh oui, t'es si bonne.. ma pute..'' Oh yes, you're so good.. my whore..

''Ch-Charles!'' She moaned loudly before cumming hardly around his cock. Charles takes it upon himself and holds back from cumming as he feels her walls tightening around his cock. He speeds up his movements, his hips hitting hers with a sensual sound of flesh smacking and a wet sound.

His hand hits the side of her thigh. ''Dit moi que tu m'appartient.'' Tell me you're mine.

She doesn't understand what he says and moans loudly, not having time to recover from her orgasm.

Charles hit her thigh a second time, this time leaving a red mark of his hand. ''Dit moi que you're mine!''

Her back arches a second time, her eyes filling with tears. ''I-I'm yours !'' He moaned loudly, but kept holding himself. ''En Français.'' in French.

The feeling is almost unbreathable and she can barely find her breath. ''Je..J-je appartiens.'' She managed to moan, with her sensual English accent.

''Putain oui..Bonne fille.. Mon jouet baisable préféré..'' Fuck yes.. good girl.. my favorite fucktoy..

Charles redoubles his efforts, showing his breathing and dumbbell physique in his thrusts. The room is filled with their moans. One of Charles' hands finds its way between her legs, playing with her clit.

She doesn't wait any longer to come brutally a second time, tears leave her eyes to roll down her cheeks.

''Oh oui.. serre moi fort..'' Oh yes.. tight me hard..

Charles continues to thrust inside her until he reaches his own climax, his hot seed feeling her up perfectly.

''Ah! Putain! Y/n! T'es trop bonne!'' Ah! Fuck! Y/n! You're too good!

He crashes into her, still being careful not to hurt her. After a few minutes of catching their breath, he pulls out of her with a wet noise and one last moan leaves her lips.

He unties her hands, massaging her wrist to relieve it. ''Ça va, mon chat?'' All good, my cat?

She turns around and hugs him tightly, nuzzling her head into his neck. ''That was great. As usual.''

He can't help but smirk, his hands rubbing her back. ''Je sais que t'aime bien quand je suis méchant avec toi..'' I know you like it when I'm mean with you..

One of his hand goes lower and gently strokes her red thigh. She kisses his neck, already nibbing on it again.

''Ready for round two?''

[creamflix]

ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU — toji fushiguro x female reader [oneshot]

summary: you’re a single mom with a schedule that leaves little room for anything but work and longing. twice a week, you get to hold your daughter close, pouring all your love into moments that always feel too short. across the hallway, there’s toji — a single dad who watches from a distance, arms crossed, jaw tight, as he wonders how you juggle work and parenting and still manage to make your kid so happy. at first, he’s envious. envious of your composure, your warmth, the way your daughter looks at you like you’re her whole world. but slowly, that envy shifts. what happens when two broken hearts start to lean on each other, finding strength in the spaces they thought would stay empty? can you let someone in without fear of breaking again? can he?

content warnings: fluff, slight angst with comfort. strangers to friends to lovers. slow burn. single parent/divorced (female) reader. single parent toji. reader has a girl [aged 8-9] no name specified, megumi is the same age as well. reader has a toxic/manipulative ex husband. happy ending. lot of feels. very personally penned </3 mentions of other characters: nanami, yuuji, nobara, gojo & sukuna

read on ao3!

toji didn’t usually care much about other people’s business, but you? you were impossible to ignore. 

it wasn’t just because your door slammed too loud when your kid came running out, or because you always seemed to be lugging some heavy-ass groceries up the stairs with that determined scowl of yours. it was how you did it all like some damn perfectionist. 

toji hated it. 

hated the way it made him feel like he should be trying harder too, especially when his kid, megumi, was busy leaving trails of destruction like a little tornado.

“megumi, stop throwing the damn ball against the wall!” he bellowed one evening, slumping further into his couch. the kid ignored him, of course. 

then, as if the universe hated him, your door creaked open, and there you were, strolling into the hallway like you had nothing better to do. arms crossed, brows raised, you peered down at him with that no-nonsense air of yours.

“maybe he’s bored?” you suggested, leaning casually against your doorframe.

toji snorted. “maybe he’s just an asshole.”

your face scrunched in disapproval, the kind he’d seen a million times from the PTA moms who used to glare at him when he showed up late to pick up megumi. but you didn’t launch into a lecture like he expected. instead, you glanced at megumi, who had paused mid-throw to stare at you, and crouched down to his level.

“hey, buddy,” you said, voice softening in a way that made toji’s stomach twist. “why don’t you try aiming for that spot over there?” you pointed to a section of the wall that wouldn’t drive everyone insane. megumi actually listened, and toji couldn’t decide if he was impressed or pissed off.

“what, you think you’re some kind of kid whisperer?” he muttered, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.

you stood, brushing off your knees, and looked him dead in the eye. “no, but i know how to talk to them.”

toji scowled. “yeah, must be nice, being born with that magic ‘mom gene.’”

you blinked, then burst out laughing, and for some reason, that annoyed him even more. 

“mom gene? toji, i only have my kid on weekends. the rest of the time, it’s just me and a bottle of wine trying not to lose my mind.”

he frowned, caught off guard. “wait, what?”

“yeah, divorce does that to you.” your voice was breezy, but your eyes flickered with something darker for a split second. “not that it’s any of your business.”

toji chewed on that revelation, something prickling at the edges of his brain. you weren’t some perfect supermom after all. you were just...getting by, same as him. 

the realization didn’t sit well — it made you seem less annoying and more...real. vulnerable, even.

“huh,” he grunted, looking away, suddenly too aware of how quiet the hallway had gotten. megumi was still tossing the ball, but it was softer now, more controlled. “guess you’re not as put together as you seem.”

“and you’re not as big of a jerk as you seem,” you shot back, giving him a pointed look before retreating to your apartment.

toji stared after you, jaw tight, until the door clicked shut. something about you made him itch, made him feel like he needed to either punch a wall or figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about how you smiled at his kid. 

damn it.

toji sat at the edge of his couch, one hand wrapped around a cold beer and the other flipping through a stack of bills. the TV was on, low volume, playing some mindless sports recap he wasn’t even watching. megumi was somewhere in his room, the faint clatter of toys filtering down the hall. the kid had been sulking since this morning, muttering about how “nobody does anything fun.”

he grunted, rubbing a hand down his face. it wasn’t like he didn’t want to take the kid out, but hell, it was hard enough keeping the lights on. trips to the park felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford — time or energy.

and then he heard it. your laugh, loud and unapologetic, echoing in the hallway like it owned the place. toji tilted his head back against the couch, scowling at the ceiling as if that would make the sound go away. it didn’t. instead, it was followed by the high-pitched giggle of your kid, shrieking with joy as the two of you stomped down the stairs.

“hold on, mama needs her shoes!” your voice floated up through the doorframe, playful but firm.

“hurry! we’re gonna miss the swings!” your daughter yelled back, her excitement enough to make toji wince. he could practically see the image of you two — hand in hand, all smiles, making your way to the park like you didn’t have a care in the world.

his jaw tightened. perfect. just another reminder of how much he sucked at this parenting thing.

he took a long swig of his beer and stared at the stack of bills like it was their fault he couldn’t be the kind of dad who made his kid laugh like that. no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just...be you. he didn’t know how to make life look that easy.

“megumi,” he called, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

there was a pause, the kind that made him think the kid wasn’t going to answer, before a small, reluctant “yeah?” drifted back.

toji sighed, setting the beer down. “you wanna...go outside or somethin’?”

another pause. then: “what for?”

the response hit harder than he cared to admit. what for? shouldn’t his kid want to? shouldn’t he be the one excited to spend time with his old man? but megumi sounded skeptical, like he’d already decided it wouldn’t be fun.

“never mind,” toji muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “forget it.”

the sound of the door to megumi’s room clicking shut made toji’s shoulders sag further.

outside, your laughter faded, replaced by the echo of your footsteps retreating into the distance. he leaned back on the couch, staring at the flickering TV screen, feeling something in his chest tighten and pull.

toji didn’t know when exactly it had started bothering him — this stupid, begrudging little alliance the two of you had. you’d come over when megumi refused his medicine, talking to the kid with that low, steady voice of yours until he opened his mouth like it was no big deal. and toji would come over when your sink started leaking, muttering under his breath the whole time about how you should’ve called a damn plumber.

but this? this was different. it wasn’t about fixing a sink or calming a tantrum. it was about the fact that you always seemed to do better — better at this whole parenting thing, better at making life fun, better at...everything. 

and he hated that. hated how it made him feel like he was doing it all wrong.

maybe tomorrow would be different. maybe tomorrow he’d try harder. but for tonight, toji sat in the dim light of his living room, beer in hand, listening to the muffled sounds of megumi’s toys clattering in the other room, and let himself wonder — just for a second — what it’d be like to get it right.

your neighbors thought you had it all figured out — the strict yet cool mom who always had her shit together. you weren’t the one scrambling for groceries or apologizing to the pharmacist because you forgot to refill a prescription. no, your pantry was always stocked, the fridge had every snack your daughter loved, and there was always a pack of pads tucked in the bathroom cabinet, just in case. because if there was one thing you were going to do, it was prepare. even if it was only for two days a week.

but those two days weren’t enough. not for you, anyway. 

your daughter was happy, blissfully unaware of how unnatural this arrangement felt to you. she was too young to see what you saw, to feel the cracks in your chest every time sunday evening rolled around and your ex-husband came to pick her up. you watched her climb into the car without a second thought, giggling about whatever they had planned for the week ahead, and you stood on the curb with a smile that felt like it might crack your face in half.

because this wasn’t the norm. at least, it shouldn’t have been.

but she didn’t know that, and how could you tell her? how could you explain that the only reason the divorce had been so clean and quick was because you’d made sure it was? no yelling, no lawyers, no drawn-out battles over custody. you wanted it over before she could develop memories sharp enough to stick. 

and it worked — she was happy. unbothered. as if this was just how life was supposed to be.

you hated it. 

you hated it almost as much as you hated sitting alone in your too-quiet apartment for the other five days of the week, waiting. hoping. praying for something, anything, that would keep her with you longer.

sometimes, you’d stare at your phone, willing it to light up with a text from your ex. something like hey, last-minute work trip, can you take her this week? or she’s asking to stay with you, is that okay? 

but those texts never came. and your little girl never asked. she loved you, you knew that, but she didn’t need you in the way you wished she did. not yet. 

not like you needed her.

so, you waited. and in the waiting, you heard everything else. 

the muffled shouts of toji and his kid through the walls. the occasional crash of what was probably a wrestling match in their living room. the bark of laughter when megumi said something funny. the kind of noise that used to fill your own apartment, before the silence settled in like an unwelcome guest.

you missed that noise. you missed the mess of it, the chaos, the constant reminder that there was life happening right in front of you.

some nights, you’d hear megumi’s voice drift into the hallway, arguing with his dad about bedtime, and you’d feel a pang in your chest so sharp it made you suck in a breath. you didn’t even know what you were hoping for anymore — a reason to knock on toji’s door? an excuse to borrow sugar or offer some unsolicited parenting advice? maybe it was just the idea of not being alone that called to you, the longing for that noise to become a permanent fixture in your home.

but the door stayed closed, and you stayed on your side, waiting.

thanksgiving wasn’t something you cared much for anymore. your daughter was off with your ex, being doted on by her grandparents, and you were left standing in the middle of your apartment wondering what the hell you were supposed to do with yourself. the thought of spending the day bouncing from bar to bar, pretending like you didn’t care that you were alone, felt more pathetic than liberating.

you had just grabbed your coat, keys jangling in hand, when the knock came. not a gentle knock, either — a heavy, impatient pounding. opening the door, you found megumi standing there, arms crossed and wearing a scowl that was all too familiar.

“you need to come help my dad,” he said bluntly.

you blinked. “uh, what?”

“the turkey,” he clarified, rolling his eyes like you should’ve already known. “he’s gonna burn it. again.”

you almost said no. you really did. it wasn’t your problem if toji fushiguro couldn’t figure out how to roast a turkey. but then megumi fixed you with a look — stubborn, determined, his little fists clenching at his sides — and you saw your daughter in him. that same unyielding resolve she’d inherited from you. 

before you could stop yourself, you sighed and grabbed your shoes.

“fine,” you muttered. “but only because i don’t wanna smell burnt turkey through the walls for the next week.”

megumi led the way, not bothering to wait for you to catch up, and by the time you stepped into toji’s apartment, the chaos was already underway. toji was in the kitchen, glaring at the bird like it had personally insulted him, sleeves rolled up and hair a mess. megumi darted off to the living room, immediately digging through his toys, leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“you planning to just stand there, or are you gonna help?” toji barked without looking up.

“oh, i’m sorry,” you shot back, shrugging off your coat and stepping into the kitchen. “i didn’t realize i was signing up to save thanksgiving.”

“yeah, yeah, just don’t touch the knives,” he grumbled, handing you a bowl of stuffing. “last thing i need is you slicing a finger off.”

“cute,” you deadpanned, elbowing him out of the way to check the turkey. “you’re supposed to baste it, you know. not drown it in oil.”

toji huffed but stepped aside, muttering something under his breath about know-it-alls. for the next hour, the two of you worked in tandem — him grumbling every time you corrected him, you rolling your eyes every time he ignored your advice only to realize you were right. it was messy and loud, and megumi kept wandering into the kitchen to ask if he could “decorate the turkey” with his action figures.

“no,” you and toji said in unison, making megumi pout and stomp back to his toys.

you hated to admit it, but it felt...nice. domestic, even. like the kind of thanksgiving you used to dream about before everything fell apart.

when the turkey was finally done, golden and steaming, toji leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. “well, guess that’s not a total disaster,” he said, nodding toward the bird.

“you’re welcome,” you replied, smirking.

toji glanced at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. then, in a tone that was almost shy — almost — he added, “you, uh...you should stay. for dinner, i mean. since you helped.”

you hesitated, the instinct to say no already on your tongue. but then megumi poked his head around the corner, grinning as he asked if it was time to eat yet, and something in your chest softened.

“yeah,” you said, surprising even yourself. “yeah, i guess i could stay.”

for once, you didn’t worry about whether it was selfish to want this — to sit at a table with someone else’s kid, someone else’s dad, and pretend, just for a little while, that it was your own family.

you barely had time to put your keys down when your daughter bolted out the door, still wearing her ballet costume — tutu, tights, and all. 

“where are you going?” you called after her, already regretting the question as you hurried to follow.

by the time you reached the hallway, she was standing in front of megumi, who looked as though he had just rolled out of bed. his hair stuck up in every direction, and he was clutching a carton of milk he’d clearly just retrieved from the grocery bag hanging outside his door. the poor kid froze like a deer caught in headlights as your daughter crossed her arms and declared, “you’re the same height as me. you have to practice with me.”

megumi blinked at her, then at you, then back at her. “what?”

“pirouettes,” she said matter-of-factly, pointing to her little satin shoes. “you just have to stand there and twirl, like this.” she spun in place, her tutu flaring out as she executed a clumsy turn.

“uh...” megumi glanced at the milk in his hand, clearly weighing his options. then, with a defeated grumble that sounded eerily like his dad, he said, “fine. but only for five minutes.”

you were about to step in, to scold her for bothering someone she didn’t know, but then megumi set the milk down and mimicked her spin, his movements stiff and awkward but surprisingly cooperative. the sight of the two of them twirling in the hallway — her with all the determination of a drill sergeant, him with the resigned patience of a kid who had long since accepted the absurdity of his life — made you pause.

“no, no, your arm’s supposed to go here,” she corrected, pulling his hand up into what you assumed was a ballet pose. megumi didn’t protest, just followed her instructions with a tiny scowl on his face.

you leaned against the doorframe, half-amused, half-stunned. the hallway was hardly the place for this — the flickering overhead light and slightly dingy carpet hardly screamed “dance studio” — but neither of them seemed to care. they were kids, after all. they didn’t need permission or a proper setting to make something fun out of nothing.

toji’s door creaked open, and he stepped out, rubbing the back of his neck. his eyes landed on the two kids, and his brows shot up. “what the hell’s goin’ on here?”

you smirked. “your kid’s being recruited as a dance partner.”

toji snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “looks like he’s takin’ it seriously.”

“he’s a good sport,” you admitted, watching as your daughter adjusted megumi’s stance like a tiny ballet instructor.

“yeah, well, don’t let him hear you say that. he’s already got enough of an attitude,” toji muttered, though there was a trace of pride in his voice.

you laughed softly, watching as the two kids twirled down the hallway like it was the most natural thing in the world. for a moment, you felt that familiar pang in your chest — the one that came from watching your daughter interact with someone so freely, so innocently. it reminded you of something you’d almost forgotten: kids didn’t care about the social rules adults imposed on them. they didn’t worry about boundaries or appearances. they just...were.

and maybe, just maybe, you could learn something from that.

you had rules. hard, fast rules you swore by, especially when it came to relationships. your daughter was your priority, and anything — or anyone — that complicated the fragile arrangement of custody and weekend visits was a hard no. 

you’d learned that the hard way.

it was supposed to be just another date. nothing serious, nothing special. just someone you’d met through a friend of a friend, someone who seemed decent enough at first glance. 

but “decent enough” didn’t cut it when he started poking around your home like it was his, asking invasive questions about your parenting and making himself far too comfortable in the space you shared with your daughter.

the final straw came when your girl, barely out of her toddler years, tugged on your sleeve and whispered, “i don’t like him.”

you snapped. you didn’t care about niceties or keeping things civil. your voice was sharp and unrelenting as you told him to leave, not sparing a second thought for his protests or excuses. when he didn’t take the hint, standing there like he had every right to argue with you in your own home, the commotion must have reached the hallway because toji showed up.

he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his eyes hard and unwavering. “you heard her,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that could slice through steel. “get the hell out.”

the man hesitated, glancing between you and toji, before finally storming out with a string of muttered curses. the door slammed behind him, and you exhaled, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your anger.

toji didn’t say anything, just gave you a curt nod before disappearing back into his apartment. but his presence lingered, a silent reminder that someone else got it. someone else understood that when it came to your kids, there were no compromises. if they didn’t like someone, that was the end of it. no debate, no second chances.

because the truth was, kids had a steadfast sense of people. they could see what adults often ignored or rationalized away. and if your little girl didn’t like someone, then that was reason enough to show them the door.

it wasn’t about being strict or overprotective. it was about being selfless in the way only a parent could be — putting your child’s comfort and safety above your own needs, no matter how lonely or frustrating it could be. 

and as much as you hated that night, as much as it left you raw and questioning your own choices, it also reaffirmed something you already knew: your girl came first. always.

toji didn’t see the point of relationships. not when all he needed was a night of sex and no strings attached. a quick call, a casual meet-up, and back to their place or the backseat of his car — it was simple, clean, and didn’t involve his son. 

rules were rules. no bringing anyone home, ever. it wasn’t just about protecting megumi’s innocence; it was about maintaining some semblance of order in the chaos of their lives.

megumi wasn’t clueless, though. he’d catch on when his dad had a “special lady friend,” his young mind putting two and two together. but he never lingered on it — he was too preoccupied with his toys or his own little world to ask questions. still, toji made it a point to keep those two parts of his life separate. or at least, he tried to.

then there was that night. the one he wished he could erase entirely.

it started with a hookup — someone he barely knew, someone who got a flat tire on the way to meet him. she called him in a panic, and toji, feeling half-responsible, told her to wait downstairs while he scrounged up some cash to help her out. it was supposed to be quick, a simple transaction before he sent her on her way.

but when he opened his apartment door to check on megumi, there she was, standing in the hallway, looking between him and his son like she’d just uncovered some dirty secret.

“seriously?” she snapped, her voice rising. “you have a kid, and you didn’t tell me? what kinda man are you?”

toji froze, his jaw tightening. “it’s not like that,” he started, already regretting everything about this situation. “he’s my son, yeah, but —”

“oh my god,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with something he couldn’t quite place. 

“you’re a single dad? that’s so...hot. like, wow, you’re doing all this on your own? it’s inspiring.”

toji stared at her, horrified. was this some kind of joke? how the hell did she jump from being pissed to romanticizing his life? did she think being a single parent was some kind of aesthetic?

before he could say anything, you appeared from your apartment, drawn out by the commotion. one look at the scene and you put the pieces together — the woman’s flirtatious tone, toji’s visible irritation, megumi standing awkwardly behind his dad.

“are you serious right now?” you said, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “do you even hear yourself? you don’t just barge into someone’s home and start fantasizing about their struggles like it’s some rom-com plot.”

the woman blinked, clearly taken aback, but you didn’t stop. “being a single parent isn’t some cute little quirk, okay? it’s hard work. it’s messy and exhausting, and you don’t get to stand there and act like it’s sexy or whatever weird thing you’re doing right now. you’re embarrassing yourself.”

toji folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you with something close to amusement. “yeah,” he added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “what she said.”

the woman huffed, muttered something about how she “didn’t mean it like that,” and stormed off, leaving behind a cloud of awkward silence.

you turned to toji, your arms crossed. “seriously, fushiguro? what the hell was that?”

“don’t look at me,” he grunted. “i told her to wait downstairs. didn’t think she’d take it as an invitation to meet my kid.”

“well, maybe next time, screen your hookups better,” you shot back before glancing at megumi. “you okay, honey?”

megumi shrugged, holding his pillow like it was a shield. “she was weird.”

toji sighed, running a hand through his hair. “tell me about it.”

as you headed back to your apartment, you muttered loud enough for him to hear, “unbelievable.”

toji couldn’t argue with that.

pta meetings were never on your radar — your ex had made sure of that. "you don’t need to stress about these things," he’d said, his tone dismissive, as if your role as a parent didn’t extend to showing up for your own kid. but the moment he insisted one too many times, you knew it was less about easing your workload and more about him basking in the spotlight of being the ever-dedicated single dad.

you weren’t having it anymore.

so, there you were, shuffling awkwardly through the school halls, feeling like a stranger in your own child’s life. asking for directions to the third-grade pta made you feel ridiculous, but not nearly as much as the sight that greeted you when you finally found the room.

your daughter sat next to her father, the picture of poise and politeness. her hands folded neatly in her lap, her back straight, nodding along as if she’d been practicing for a commercial. for a moment, you wondered if you’d walked into the wrong classroom.

but then her eyes flicked to the door, and the facade crumbled. she leaped out of her chair, her tiny legs carrying her toward you as she yelled, “mama!” loud enough to turn heads. the force of her hug nearly knocked the wind out of you, but you didn’t care. this — her joy, her excitement — was worth every awkward second of wandering the school halls.

your ex, however, looked less than thrilled. his jaw tightened, his smile turned brittle, and you swore his ears went red. 

“you’re not supposed to be here,” he hissed, his voice low but venomous. “we agreed —”

“you decided,” you cut him off, your voice calm but firm. “i have just as much right to be here as you do.”

your daughter, oblivious to the tension, looked up at both of you with wide, curious eyes. “but daddy said you don’t like school stuff,” she said, her little brow furrowed. “is that true?”

you knelt down, brushing a stray hair from her face. “of course not, sweetheart. i love being here for you. don’t ever think otherwise, okay?”

her face lit up again, but the moment was short-lived. your ex scoffed, muttering something under his breath about boundaries and making a scene. you felt the familiar heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck, the weight of the other parents’ stares pressing down on you.

and then, as if on cue, toji strolled in with megumi trailing behind him, looking as uninterested as ever.

toji’s eyes scanned the room, landing on the little drama unfolding between you and your ex. a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “looks like i’m not the only one dreading this circus,” he drawled, loud enough for everyone to hear.

megumi, clutching a slightly crumpled report card, muttered, “dad, can we just sit down?”

toji ignored him, stepping closer to where you were standing. “need backup?” he asked, his tone teasing but with a glint of seriousness in his eyes.

your ex bristled, standing a little straighter. “this isn’t any of your business.”

“maybe not,” toji said, crossing his arms, “but if you’re gonna start a scene in front of your kid, might as well make it entertaining for the rest of us.”

you bit back a laugh, your shoulders relaxing for the first time since you’d walked into the room. your ex muttered something incoherent before storming back to his seat, clearly deciding he’d rather sulk than argue with toji.

“thanks,” you said quietly, glancing at him.

“don’t mention it,” he replied, waving a hand. “besides, i could use the distraction. these meetings are the worst.”

megumi sighed dramatically, dragging his dad toward the nearest empty seats. your daughter tugged on your hand, pulling you toward her spot. “sit next to me, mommy!” she insisted, her voice brimming with excitement.

and just like that, the weight of embarrassment lifted. maybe the pta wasn’t so dreadful after all.

stationery shopping ranked high on toji’s list of things he’d rather not do. it wasn’t just the hassle of navigating cramped aisles and overly enthusiastic sales clerks — it was the quiet longing he saw in megumi’s eyes. his kid had always been practical, never asking for much. a pencil and eraser were all he ever said he needed. 

but toji wasn’t blind. he noticed the way megumi’s gaze lingered on superhero-themed pouches, colorful erasers, or fancy gel pens that clicked in three different colors.

today, however, megumi wasn’t eyeing superheroes. he stood rooted in front of the store’s most ridiculously pink setup — hello kitty galore. pink pouches, glittery pens, stickers with cartoon bows and sparkles. “what’re ya staring at, brat?” toji grumbled, leaning against the cart.

“nothing,” megumi mumbled, looking down at his sneakers.

toji raised a brow. “yeah, sure. ‘nothing’ has you glued there like a statue.”

“it’s for...her,” megumi muttered, barely loud enough to hear.

“her?” for a second, toji wondered if his kid had cooked up another imaginary friend. but then it clicked. “her” wasn’t imaginary — it was your daughter. ever since she had dragged megumi into practicing her ballet routine in the hallway, she’d been on his radar. toji had caught him talking about her in passing, dropping little comments about her sparkly shoes or how good she was at balancing on her toes.

toji scratched the back of his head, sighing. “alright, pick something out.”

megumi’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “really?”

“yeah, really. just don’t make me regret it.”

a few minutes later, toji was standing in line with a glittery-pen set, the kind of thing he never thought he’d buy in his lifetime. at checkout, he stared at the receipt longer than necessary, grumbling about how overpriced stationery had gotten. still, he couldn’t shake the thought of megumi’s sheepish little smile when he picked out the pen set.

later that day, toji knocked on your door, the pen set in hand. when you opened it, he held the package out awkwardly. “here,” he said gruffly. “megs wanted to give this to your girl.”

you blinked in surprise, looking between him and the gift. “oh, uh, thank you. that’s sweet of him.”

“yeah, well, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, already turning to leave.

“wait.” you disappeared into the apartment for a moment before coming back with a box in hand. “give this to megumi. my daughter won it in a raffle at school and insisted it was for him.”

toji frowned, taking the box. when he opened it, his jaw nearly dropped. inside was a limited-edition action figure of megumi’s favorite superhero, still in its pristine packaging. “seriously?” he asked, glancing up at you.

you shrugged, smiling. “she said he deserves it for helping her with ballet.”

when toji handed the box to megumi later, the boy’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “this is for me?” he asked, his voice almost disbelieving.

“yep,” toji said, leaning against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at his lips. “from her.”

megumi cradled the box like it was made of glass, his face lighting up in a way toji hadn’t seen in a while. “she’s...cool,” he mumbled, his ears turning red.

toji snorted, ruffling his son’s hair. “yeah, kid. guess she is.”

it started with the clatter of plastic pots and pans echoing in the hallway. toji peeked out, ready to bark at whoever was making the ruckus, only to see your kid — a whirlwind in a frilly dress — dragging megumi out of the apartment by his wrist. toji frowned, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “what’s she up to now?” he muttered to himself.

your girl had plopped her miniature kitchen set right in the middle of the hallway, setting it up with an authority that would make a professional chef jealous. “okay, megumi,” she declared, hands on her hips. “we’re playing house-house.”

megumi shuffled awkwardly, glancing at the scattered pink cookware. “uh...i don’t know how to play,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

your daughter waved off his hesitation with a dramatic flourish. “it’s easy! you’re the dad, and i’m the mom, and we make dinner together.”

toji suppressed a snort. the dad, huh? poor kid.

but then megumi, shifting uncomfortably, mumbled, “what’s...a dad supposed to do?”

your daughter blinked at him, pausing her bustling activity. “you don’t know?”

he shook his head, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“well,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, “my dad doesn’t play house-house much. but it’s okay! we’ll just figure it out.”

toji’s chest tightened at her words, his grip on the doorframe unconsciously tightening. he didn’t think a kid’s game could hit so close to home, but there it was. she said it so simply, so innocently, like it was a fact of life. and megumi just nodded, kneeling down next to her and fumbling with a tiny plastic frying pan, like he was trying to make sense of a concept he couldn’t quite grasp.

when he glanced across the hall, he saw you standing there. you weren’t smiling. the look in your eyes was a mirror of his own — quiet, pained recognition. you knew. how could you not? this was your life too, wasn’t it? this strange, fragmented version of what a “home” was supposed to be.

and for once, toji didn’t have a quip or a grumble. he just stood there, watching his kid try to figure out what “playing house” meant, wondering if maybe the real problem wasn’t the game at all.

there were days when the weight of work pressed so heavily on your shoulders, you didn’t know if you’d make it to bedtime without breaking. days when you stared at your laptop screen, the relentless deadlines pounding in your head, and wondered if anyone cared enough to ask how you were holding up. 

your daughter? what could you even tell an eight-year-old? that mamma’s work feels like it’s swallowing her whole? your ex? let’s not kid anyone — he didn’t give a damn.

so when you heard the faint knock on your door, you sighed, ready to dismiss whatever delivery or inconvenience had shown up at your doorstep. but it wasn’t a courier. it was megumi, standing there awkwardly, holding a casserole dish that looked far too heavy for him.

“uh, hi,” he mumbled, not meeting your eyes. “my dad said you should eat this. and, um...are you okay?”

you blinked, caught completely off guard. “i — yeah, i’m fine. why are you —”

“dad said you looked ‘off.’” he shifted his weight, staring at the floor like the words were a script he was forced to read. “so he made food. and, uh...he said you should eat it. or something.”

you stared at the casserole, the steam fogging up the glass lid, before your gaze moved back to megumi. “your dad sent you?”

megumi nodded, still not looking up. “yeah. but also...uh, you shouldn’t be sad. ’cause my teacher says work is like a big test. and you can’t cry during tests.”

you let out a soft laugh despite yourself. “is that so?”

“yeah,” he said, more confidently now. “and also...you should have cookies after tests. or...or, like, cake. something sweet.”

you crouched down so you were eye level with him, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “thank you, megumi. you’re very thoughtful.”

he shrugged, his ears turning red. “it’s just what people do, right?”

“you’re absolutely right,” you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “tell your dad thank you for the food, okay?”

megumi nodded, suddenly eager to escape, and darted back toward his apartment. as you stood, watching him go, you caught a glimpse of toji leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, pretending like he wasn’t paying attention. your eyes met, and he gave a half-smirk, a silent acknowledgment that, yeah, he sent his kid over to do the emotional heavy lifting.

you didn’t know whether to laugh or roll your eyes, but as you brought the casserole inside and inhaled the warm, comforting aroma, you realized it didn’t matter. the gesture had worked. 

and for the first time that day, you felt a little less alone.

toji leaned against the garbage chute, the crumpled bag dangling from his grip like the weight of his entire day had been stuffed inside it. his head was pounding, his nerves frayed, and the sheer mental load of keeping everything together made his chest feel tight. 

just one drink, he thought. one drink to take the edge off. 

but the thought of megumi catching even a whiff of whiskey on his breath, of being the kind of dad who needed an escape like that, stopped him cold.

that’s when you showed up, bag in hand, hair disheveled from a long day. you gave him a quick glance, your usual mixture of mild irritation and casual acknowledgment, before tossing your garbage into the chute.

“you look like hell,” you said bluntly, folding your arms.

“gee, thanks,” toji shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “needed that.”

you didn’t flinch. instead, you just leaned against the wall beside him, watching as he seemed to wrestle with something internally. you weren’t dumb — you could tell when someone was running on fumes.

“you ever feel like you’re drowning?” he asked suddenly, surprising even himself with the admission.

you blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “constantly,” you replied, your tone softer than usual. “but i’m guessing you mean with the whole...single parent thing.”

toji chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “ding, ding. i don’t know how you do it. you make it look...effortless.”

“effortless?” you raised an eyebrow, almost laughing at the absurdity. “you think i have it together? newsflash, toji: my kid’s with me two days a week. that’s not parenting perfection. that’s a weekend babysitting gig.”

“still,” he muttered. “you make those two days count. i see it. i hear it.”

you exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “look, i don’t have all the answers. but what i’ve learned? you can’t do it all. not perfectly. no one can. and pretending you can is just setting yourself up to fail. so...cut yourself some slack. you’re not screwing up as bad as you think.”

he stared at you for a moment, the words sinking in like drops of water on parched earth. it wasn’t a grand revelation, but coming from you — iron mom of the year — it hit different.

“you really believe that?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

you shrugged. “not always. but it’s what i tell myself when i feel like i’m about to lose it. sometimes it helps. sometimes it doesn’t. but it’s better than drinking yourself stupid.”

toji’s eyes flicked to you, his brow furrowing. “how’d you —”

“please,” you cut him off. “you think i don’t know that look? seen it in the mirror too many times.”

he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “you’re something else, you know that?”

“so are you,” you countered, nudging his arm lightly. “whether you believe it or not. and whether you’ll admit it or not.”

he didn’t respond, just stood there for a moment, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. and as you turned to head back to your apartment, he found himself standing a little taller, the crushing weight of the day feeling just a little lighter.he still wouldn’t call it respect. but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate you as much as he thought.

your ex’s text had felt like a sucker punch, the kind that knocked the wind right out of you. you’d stared at the message for far too long, rereading his smug little declaration: “taking her on a trip she’ll never forget. don’t worry about the details.” 

no invite for you, no mention of her asking for you — just a cruel reminder that he still had ways to hurt you. and for her birthday, of all things.

you spent the next two weeks in a fog. the silence in your apartment was deafening without her, no shrieks of laughter, no tiny footsteps running to show you her latest masterpiece. it felt like someone had pressed pause on your life, leaving you stuck in this unbearable limbo. every day you’d get up, go to work, and come home to the same aching emptiness. you even avoided the hallway, unwilling to face anyone — not even toji and megumi.

but then, one evening, as you were sorting through yet another pile of takeout containers, you heard a soft knock on your door. when you opened it, there stood megumi, clutching a piece of paper in his small hands. he shoved it toward you without a word, his face unreadable, before bolting back down the hall.

you closed the door, confused, and unfolded the note. it was written in uneven, colorful crayon strokes, the kind only a kid could produce:

dear y/n, pls come to my bithday party. we having cake and maybe pizza dad said okay i want you to come :) from megumi

your breath caught in your throat, and before you knew it, hot tears were streaming down your face. it was the kind of pure, innocent gesture that knocked down every wall you’d tried to build over the past two weeks. megumi didn’t know the weight of what he’d just done — how he’d given you a reason to get out of bed, to care about something again.

you clutched the note to your chest, letting out a shaky laugh through your tears. for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of warmth. maybe you couldn’t be there for your own daughter’s birthday this year, but for megumi? you’d show up.

and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t feel so alone.

toji swore he hadn’t stopped pacing since he woke up that morning. 

megumi’s birthday. 

the kid had been talking about it for weeks, dropping subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints about what he wanted. toji had done his best — got the decorations, ordered the cake, and even splurged on superhero-themed plates and napkins. but standing in the middle of his living room, now transformed into a battlefield of action figure balloons and capes, he couldn’t help but feel like a superhero himself — one on the verge of a breakdown.

megumi had insisted on handling the invites, which in hindsight might’ve been a mistake. the first arrivals were fine enough: yuuji and nobara, two of megumi’s classmates. yuuji was all boundless energy and chaos, while nobara strutted in like she was already running the place. “where’s the cake?” she demanded, hands on her hips. toji grunted and pointed toward the kitchen.

then came the wild card. the bane of his existence.

“tooojjjji!” gojo’s voice echoed through the apartment, loud and grating as ever. “heard there’s a party! didn’t wanna miss out.” he waltzed in, sunglasses perched on his stupidly perfect nose, a massive gift bag in hand that screamed overcompensating. toji pinched the bridge of his nose. why me?

and then, you. you stepped in, looking a little hesitant, holding a neatly wrapped present in one hand. megumi practically lit up when he saw you, rushing over to tug you inside. “you came!” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. toji froze for a moment, then scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes.

“megumi invited me,” you said simply, smiling down at the boy. “couldn’t say no to the birthday boy, now could i?”

toji grunted in response, but deep down, he was relieved. somehow, having you there made the chaos of the day feel a little more manageable.

the party was... chaotic, to say the least. yuuji inhaled pizza like it was a sport and promptly threw up in the kitchen sink, much to nobara’s disgust. “ewwwww, you’re so groooossss!” she shrieked, dodging as yuuji stumbled past her. toji was already on the phone with yuuji’s older brother, sukuna, who arrived not long after, looking pissed as hell.

“i told him not to eat like a damn vacuum,” sukuna growled, hauling yuuji out the door.

megumi, meanwhile, didn’t seem fazed by any of it. he was too busy showing off his new action figures to your daughter, who somehow managed to make it to the party just a few hours before her flight. you and toji exchanged a glance — a silent acknowledgment that, despite the chaos, the kids were happy.

and somehow, so were you.

with your daughter off on her dad's two-and-a-half-week escapade, you found yourself with something rare and unsettling: free time. the emptiness of your apartment felt heavier without her laughter filling the corners, so you did what any sane, lonely adult would do — you forced yourself to go out. and somehow, somehow, you ended up on a date with nanami kento.

god, he was perfect. the kind of perfect that made your chest ache. polite, well-mannered, and respectful, with a quiet intensity that felt... safe. he opened doors, listened like you were the only person in the world, and didn’t even bat an eye when you cried mid-dessert about how surreal it felt to be treated so kindly. nanami kento was a unicorn in human form. you left the date with a full heart and a nervous little hope tucked away in the corner of your mind.

but with that came distance. maybe you didn’t mean to pull back from the chaotic warmth of your hallway interactions with megumi and toji, but it happened all the same. when megumi called out a soft “hi” as you passed him by the mailboxes, you offered a quick smile but kept walking. the sink had been dripping for days, but instead of knocking on toji’s door, you’d booked a plumber. you weren’t doing anything wrong, you told yourself — they were just neighbors. neighbors.

not friends. not anything more than the people across the hall. right?

toji, though, noticed. the absence of your knock, the way megumi seemed a little more sullen, staring at the hall like he was waiting for someone. “you think she’s mad at us?” megumi asked one evening, poking at his rice.

toji’s response was a noncommittal grunt, but the truth was, he didn’t know. for some stupid reason, the distance stung. not that he’d ever admit it. not that he had any right to care.

you were just neighbors, after all.

when your girl came bounding through the door, her face glowing from the trip, the first thing she asked wasn’t about you or the gifts she’d brought back. no, it was, “how’s gumi? how’s uncle toji?”

the question hit harder than it should’ve. you realized with a pang of guilt how much distance you’d put between yourself and the fushiguros. brushing it off with a casual, “they’re fine,” didn’t sit well either. so, when your daughter insisted on running over to their apartment to see megumi, you didn’t stop her.

watching her skip down the hall, you thought it’d all smooth over naturally. kids were resilient like that, weren’t they? but then she came back. and she was crying.

between her sobs and hiccups, you managed to piece together the story. megumi, sweet, awkward megumi, had exploded in a torrent of childish frustration. how your daughter hadn’t been around. how you hadn’t been around. how he thought you both didn’t care anymore.

you felt your heart shatter as your girl bawled into your arms, her small hands clutching at your shirt. “why’s he mad at me, mama? i didn’t do anything!”

meanwhile, across the hall, megumi was in tears too, angrily wiping at his face as he sat cross-legged on the couch. “i hate her!” he shouted, voice wobbling. “she didn’t even say hi! she just left like everyone does!”

toji sat there, looking at his son, the beer he’d been nursing now warm and forgotten. the kid’s words were like a punch to the gut. he realized, with sinking clarity, that megumi wasn’t just upset with your daughter. the boy was lashing out because he felt abandoned.

when the knock came at the door, it was no surprise. you stood there, your girl clutching your hand, both of you looking just as frazzled as toji and megumi.

“we need to talk,” you said.

“yeah,” toji muttered, stepping aside to let you in.

the conversation wasn’t easy, with both kids sniffling, glaring at each other, and clutching onto their respective parents like lifelines. but as you and toji sat there, stumbling through apologies and promises to do better, you realized how much you’d hurt them by pulling away.

“friends don’t do this,” your girl said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

“yeah,” megumi added, glaring at his lap. “friends don’t just leave.”

and in that moment, you and toji exchanged a look. it was one of understanding, of shared guilt and resolution. you weren’t just neighbors anymore, were you? whether you liked it or not, you’d become something more — something messier, but ultimately worth fighting for.

the fight left behind a new set of rules — some spoken, others understood. your daughter would spend one hour with megumi every weekend, no negotiations. an additional hour was set aside for assisted ballet practice, with megumi reluctantly twirling around like an uncoordinated giraffe under her direction. and then, as if her creative pursuits weren’t already ambitious, she insisted on an hour of practicing makeup.

on a very, very unwilling toji.

the first time she smeared blush across his cheekbones, a bright pink mess, toji grumbled the entire time. “this is ridiculous. i look like a clown.”

“no, you don’t,” your girl countered with all the confidence in the world. “you look beauuuutiful.”

megumi snickered behind her, holding up a hand mirror so his dad could see the finished product. toji groaned, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the faintest twitch of amusement.

you leaned against the doorway, watching the scene unfold. the shared giggles, the clumsy but earnest teamwork — it was loud, chaotic, and beautiful in its own way. this was right. this was what you hadn’t even realized you were missing.

and kento? well, the date you thought could be something turned into a friendship you didn’t know you needed. he became a quiet presence, someone who checked in, who made you laugh when work got overwhelming, and who offered sage advice about life when you needed it most.

“you’re doing great,” he told you once over coffee, his calm reassurance soothing the doubts that often crept in.

between the budding chaos in your hallway ballet classes, the makeup artistry sessions that somehow always ended with toji pouting in pink lipstick, and the quiet stability kento offered, you realized that life had settled into something messy, imperfect, but undeniably nice.

maybe it wasn’t what you’d planned. maybe it wasn’t ideal. but as your daughter twirled around the room, megumi trailing after her with hesitant steps, and toji scowled half-heartedly at his reflection, you couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

exam season brought chaos, but not the kind you'd expected. with your daughter spending extra time at her dad's house to focus on studying, the silence in your apartment felt foreign. that is, until megumi started showing up more often, knocking on your door with his usual grumbles.

"why isn't the test about superheroes or football?" he'd complain, dragging his workbook into your living room as though it carried the weight of the world.

you’d chuckle softly, pulling up a chair next to him. “if multiplication was about superheroes, what would the question even look like?”

megumi furrowed his brow, considering. “uh... like, if spider-man saved five people every day for a week, how many people would he save?”

you smiled, leaning in. “exactly. now, how would you solve that?”

somehow, tailoring the lessons to his interests worked wonders. before long, megumi wasn’t just tolerating study time — he was coming over more and more, plopping onto your couch like he lived there.

toji, on the other hand, didn’t know what to make of it. sure, he appreciated that you were helping the kid, but every time he walked past your door and heard megumi's laughter ringing out, he felt... off.

he chalked it up to jealousy at first. not the bitter kind, but the kind that made him wonder why megumi could so easily open up to you, share his frustrations and laugh like the world wasn’t on his tiny shoulders.

then there was the other feeling, the one he buried as quickly as it surfaced. it was... comfort. relief, even. seeing megumi so at ease with you, so happy, made something in his chest tighten.

it didn’t help that when megumi came home, he’d mention you in passing, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “she said i’d ace the test if i think about it like superheroes. she’s kinda cool.”

toji would grunt, pretending not to care. “yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable over there.”

but the truth was, toji couldn’t decide if he envied you for being able to connect with his son so easily or if he was just... glad. glad that someone like you existed in megumi’s world.

he wouldn’t admit it, though. not even to himself. instead, he shut the feelings down, brushing them off like they were nothing. because, after all, you were just the neighbor who helped out when needed.

right?

toji had every intention of marching into your apartment to retrieve megumi with a grumble about bedtime. the kid was always strict about his sleep schedule — how the hell had he fallen asleep at your place?

but when he stepped inside, the sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

there you were, sprawled on the couch with megumi curled up next to you, both of you out cold. the TV flickered softly, playing megumi’s favorite superhero show. the coffee table was a chaotic mess of open textbooks, scattered pencils, and hastily scribbled notes.

toji stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with the weird tug in his chest. the scene was... domestic. 

painfully so.

megumi’s head was resting on your shoulder, your hand loosely draped over his back like you’d done this a thousand times before. the way you were both nestled together was too natural for something that should’ve felt foreign. it made something warm and uncomfortable rise in toji’s chest, a feeling he wasn’t ready to name.

he took a step closer, leaning against the doorframe. his frown deepened, not out of anger but out of frustration — mostly at himself.

this wasn’t anything, right? this was just you being nice to his kid. helping him out with schoolwork and keeping him company because you were a good person.

but then why did his heart feel like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest? why did seeing you with megumi like that make his throat tighten?

toji ran a hand through his hair, sighing quietly.

“dammit,” he muttered under his breath.

he knew he should’ve woken the both of you up, taken megumi home, and gone about his night like this didn’t mean anything. but instead, he found himself lingering, watching the two of you for a moment longer.

did neighbors really do this? take care of someone else’s kid like they were their own?

and did neighbors treat each other with such quiet, subtle affection? the kind that slipped into actions rather than words — the casseroles when someone was too tired to cook, the soft smiles exchanged in passing, the way you’d text him about the latest sale on megumi’s favorite snacks?

toji shook his head, trying to shove the thought away. god forbid, he might actually like you.

it was supposed to be a normal monday morning. drop your girl off at her ballet studio, exchange a quick goodbye, and then head to work like it wasn’t eating you alive that she was growing up too fast.

but then toji came out, coffee in one hand and his other scratching the back of his neck as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly still waking up. “hey, kid,” he called to your daughter, motioning her over with a lazy wave.

what happened next made you freeze mid-turn, your keys jangling awkwardly in your hand.

toji knelt to her level, his gruff voice taking on an edge of sincerity. “listen up, girlie. when you’re up there, you give ‘em hell, alright? don’t let anyone tell you you’re not good enough. and don’t worry about messin’ up — just keep goin’ like it never happened.”

your daughter nodded with wide eyes, hanging on to every word, her little face lit with admiration.

and god, he was trying so hard to keep it clean. but every so often, a “shit” or “hell yeah” would slip out, sending her into a fit of giggles. she tried so hard to be serious, biting her lip to stifle her laughter, but the sheer ridiculousness of him attempting to be PG while still being him was too much for a nine-year-old.

megumi, standing nearby with his arms crossed, was clearly torn. his little scowl was stuck somewhere between annoyance at your daughter for monopolizing his dad’s attention and longing to be spoken to like that himself.

and your daughter? she latched onto toji like he was some kind of life coach, her arms around his neck, thanking him in that sweet, sing-song voice she always used when she was truly happy.

your fingers tightened around your keys as your chest did a stupid thing.

because here was toji, your grumpy neighbor who could barely keep it together when megumi so much as sneezed during homework time, and yet here he was giving your girl the kind of pep talk that should’ve come from her own dad.

and worse? she listened. eagerly.

you fidgeted with your keys like that’d distract you from the warmth creeping into your chest, from the realization that maybe, just maybe, this tough, foul-mouthed, perpetually tired man wasn’t just good with kids. he was good for you. god forbid, you might actually be falling for toji fushiguro.

it wasn’t your finest moment — double-booking a work meeting during your daughter's pickup. you were already spiraling into guilt, pacing the room while trying to find a way to make it work, when toji grumbled his way into volunteering.

“don’t make a big deal outta it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “she’s comin’ over for megumi anyway. might as well save you the trouble.”

you barely had time to thank him before he was out the door, keys jingling in his hand.

but what toji walked into at your ex’s house was far from what he expected.

your ex was already on some power trip, standing in the doorway like he owned the world. the smugness on his face was palpable, and it only got worse when he saw toji, a man who didn’t give a damn about puffed-up egos.

“oh, so you’re her chauffeur now?” your ex sneered, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

toji ignored him at first, his sharp eyes scanning past him to find your babygirl. she was standing behind her dad, clutching her little backpack like it was a shield, her lips trembling as she peeked at toji with wide eyes.

“c’mon, kid,” toji said, his voice softer than you’d expect from a man like him. he extended a hand, but your ex stepped in the way.

“you got a lotta nerve coming here,” your ex spat, crossing his arms. “what, you think playing house makes you her dad?”

toji’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he took a deliberate step forward. “nah,” he said coolly, his voice dripping with menace. “but i’m a helluva lot better at it than you.”

that set your ex off, his voice rising with insults and accusations, not even caring that his daughter was right there, watching the whole thing unfold.

and toji? he had it. his patience snapped like a brittle twig.

“y’know what’s funny?” toji growled, stepping so close your ex had to tilt his head back to meet his glare. “you’re standin’ here flappin’ your gums about bein’ her dad, but you’re too busy bein’ a selfish prick to realize what you’re doin’ to her.”

before your ex could stammer out another insult, toji hoisted your girl into one of his arms like she weighed nothing, shielding her with his broad shoulders as he glared down at your ex.

“don’t bother callin’. she’s got enough on her plate without dealin’ with your crap,” he bit out before turning on his heel and walking away, your girl clutching his shirt like it was her lifeline.

the ride back was quiet, your girl’s sniffles filling the air as toji’s hand rested protectively on the wheel. he didn’t say much — just an occasional grunt to reassure her. when they arrived, he handed her off to you without a word, but the fire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

and you? you were floored. because for all of toji’s grumbling and rough edges, he wasn’t just stepping up when you couldn’t — he was fighting for your girl like she was his own.

evening walks were supposed to be your moment of calm, a chance to clear your head after a long day. but calm went out the window the moment you saw megumi in the park, his usual quiet confidence missing as a group of older kids cornered him.

his small frame was tense, shoulders squared, but you could see the way his hands trembled as he balled them into fists at his sides. it wasn’t like megumi to let himself be pushed around, but whatever the bullies were saying had struck a nerve.

you didn’t even have to get close to catch the cruel words that slipped out of their mouths.

“no wonder your mom didn’t stick around.”

“bet she took one look at you and ran.”

“you’re just some charity case with a deadbeat dad.”

your heart twisted at the look on megumi’s face — his jaw clenched, eyes glassy with tears he refused to let fall. you weren’t his mom, but you felt the instinctive flare of protectiveness that made you forget every rule of decorum.

marching over, you didn’t bark at the kids or shoo them off like some passerby might. no, you planted yourself right beside megumi, crossing your arms with a look so sharp it could cut steel.

“is there a problem here?” you asked, voice calm but carrying a weight that made the kids shrink back.

they glanced between each other, suddenly unsure. “we were just talking —”

“talking?” you cut in, your tone sharp enough to make them flinch. “sounds to me like you’re all just jealous.”

the kids froze, confusion written all over their faces. “jealous of what?” one of them finally asked, voice cracking slightly.

you placed a hand on megumi’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “jealous that you’ll never have the heart or the strength this kid has. it’s easy to gang up on someone when you’ve got a pack behind you. try standing on your own for once. but then again, maybe that’s asking too much.”

megumi didn’t say a word, but you felt him lean into your touch, his small hand brushing against yours as if testing its solidity.

the bullies sputtered, trying to save face, but one by one, they slunk away, muttering excuses as they disappeared into the distance.

the moment they were gone, megumi’s tough facade crumbled. his shoulders sagged, his head dropping as the tears he had been holding back finally spilled over.

you crouched down to his level, wrapping your arms around him as much as his wiry frame would allow. “it’s okay, sweetheart,” you murmured, brushing a hand through his unruly hair. “you’re okay now.”

and just like that, this tough, guarded nine-year-old melted into your embrace, his small sobs muffled against your shoulder.

you stayed there, holding him as the evening light faded, your heart breaking and swelling all at once. you weren’t his mom, but in that moment, you might as well have been.

toji wasn’t the type to lose his composure, not even when megumi brought home bruised knees or a bad grade. he was a man of steady hands and a guarded heart, but tonight? tonight was different.

he was sitting on the couch, beer in hand, when megumi hesitated in front of him, nervously fiddling with his sleeve. “dad, something happened today,” he mumbled, voice low.

toji raised an eyebrow, setting his drink on the table. “what kind of something?”

and then megumi started talking — about the bullies, about their cruel words, and then about you stepping in. how you stood there, firm and unyielding, pretending to be his mom without hesitation. megumi’s voice cracked when he got to the part where he cried in your arms, and toji swore he felt something shatter in him.

he didn’t know if it was anger, gratitude, or guilt — maybe all three twisting together into a storm that made his chest ache.

"you didn’t say anything stupid to her, did you?" toji asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

megumi shook his head quickly. "no, but... she was really nice. it felt... it felt okay."

toji sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back into the couch. he should’ve been mad. should’ve been upset at megumi for dragging you into their lives like that, but instead, all he could think about was the way his chest tightened at the thought of you.

he needed to see you. not because he owed you, not because of some sense of duty, but because the idea of you stepping up for his kid like that made him feel something he hadn’t let himself feel in years.

he stood abruptly, grabbing his coat. megumi looked up at him, startled. “where are you going?”

toji paused for a moment. “i’ll be back. don’t stay up too late.”

megumi didn’t ask questions, just nodded and watched his dad leave the apartment.

when toji knocked on your door, he didn’t even know what he was going to say. a simple “thank you” didn’t feel like enough, but what else could he offer? the way his hands flexed at his sides and the way his heart pounded in his chest betrayed the calm exterior he was trying to maintain.

when you opened the door, he saw the surprise flash in your eyes. “toji?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish — a sight you never thought you’d see. “can i come in?”

and that’s when you felt it too — something bubbling between you both, something that had been building for a while, but neither of you had been ready to face. until now.

toji stood there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his eyes flicking between you and the floor like the words he was searching for might be scrawled on the ground. he wasn’t the kind of man who talked about his feelings, let alone spilled them out like this.

but he had to say something.

“look,” he started, voice low and gruff, “i’m not great with... this kind of thing.”

you tilted your head, waiting patiently, and that just made it harder for him.

he huffed out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “megumi told me what happened today. how you... stepped in. and, uh —” he paused, almost wincing at how clumsy his words sounded, “ — just... thanks. for being there. for him.”

you smiled softly, opening your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, cutting you off. “no, wait. i’m not done.”

he shifted, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through it anyway. “it’s not just today. it’s all of it. you’ve done more for that kid than most people ever have. hell, more than i probably have, and i’m his dad.” his laugh was bitter, self-deprecating. “you didn’t have to, but you did. and i —” he faltered, swallowing hard.

you could see it then, all of it — the gratitude, the guilt, the admiration, the something more he was too scared to name. it was all there, plain as day in the way he looked at you.

he sighed, shoulders slumping as if the weight of his words had exhausted him. “just... thanks. for him. for me. for... everything.”

and maybe you didn’t need to say anything. because as clumsy and awkward as his words were, you understood. you really did.

so you stepped forward, just close enough that he couldn’t avoid meeting your eyes anymore, and gave him a small, understanding smile. “you don’t need to thank me, toji. i care about him. about you both.”

something flickered in his expression — relief, maybe, or something even deeper. he nodded, just once, and it felt like enough. no confessions, no big speeches.

just this.

something had changed, though neither of you dared to put it into words. it was in the little things, the quiet moments that made your lives blur together in ways that felt natural, almost inevitable.

like how megumi, who usually kept his friends at arm’s length, started demanding your baby girl's presence at every outing, loudly justifying it as “she’ll get bored otherwise,” when really, he just liked having her around. and during those movie nights, when the kids were too engrossed in the screen, you and toji sat closer than necessary, your fingers brushing as you both reached for the popcorn. neither of you pulled away.

it was in how you became megumi’s loudest cheerleader at his little league matches, rivaling even toji’s booming encouragement. and the way he’d grin at you like you were the reason he hit that home run, his awkwardly mumbled, “did you see that?” enough to warm your heart.

toji wasn’t any different. no matter how busy he was, he showed up to every single one of your baby girl's ballet recitals, clapping so obnoxiously loud at the end that even the other parents gave him side-eyes. and after each recital, he’d crouch down, looking absurdly out of place with his towering frame, to tell her exactly how amazing she was — always with a teasing grin and a “guess megumi’ll have to step it up to keep up with you, huh?”

and then there were the practices. toji, of all people, trying to mimic ballet moves while your daughter giggled at how his long legs never quite landed in the right positions. megumi tried to feign disinterest but ended up joining too, his face as serious as ever as he attempted a plié.

you’d think the makeup thing would’ve been too much for him, but no. those butterfly-drawn cheeks and glittery nails stayed with toji for hours after your daughter left, and he never wiped them off — not until bedtime. megumi pretended not to notice, but you’d catch him smirking when toji forgot to scrub off a particularly bright streak of pink before heading out.

it all felt so... domestic. so easy. yet, neither of you dared to name it.

because neighbors helped neighbors, right? neighbors went to movies together. neighbors cheered for each other’s kids. neighbors shared popcorn and let their walls crumble, piece by piece.

this was okay. just neighbors looking out for each other. nothing more.

...right?

until it wasn’t.

you barely managed to get out of the cab, your heels clicking against the pavement, your dress clinging uncomfortably after hours of fake smiles and firm handshakes. all you could think about was peeling everything off, crashing into bed, and hoping the world would let you sleep in for once.

but then you saw him — toji, leaning against your apartment door, his broad frame tense, his head snapping up the moment he heard your footsteps.

"where the hell were you?" his voice was rough, low, but not angry. it was something else.

you froze, your bag slipping off your shoulder. “what are you doing here?”

his eyes, bloodshot and desperate, locked onto yours, scanning every inch of you like he was checking for injuries. “it’s one a.m., on a thursday,” he said, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. “your lights were off. you weren’t answering your phone.”

it hit you then — he’d been worried. toji fushiguro, the man who grumbled more than he talked, who deflected every feeling with a snarky comment, was pacing the hallway outside your apartment because he thought something had happened to you.

“i had a business meeting,” you said, the exhaustion seeping into your voice. “it ran late.”

but your explanation didn’t seem to matter. he took a step closer, his shoulders sagging in relief but still stiff with whatever storm had been brewing inside him.

“you could’ve told me,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “what if something happened? what if —”

“toji.” your voice was soft, cutting through his spiraling thoughts.

he stopped, his hand dropping to his side as he looked at you, his expression raw and unguarded. he wasn’t just worried. he was terrified. terrified that whatever this strange, fragile thing between you might be, it could slip away in an instant.

and before either of you could think better of it, you closed the distance. your arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him into a hug that felt as natural as breathing.

he stiffened at first, his body caught off guard, but then his arms came up around you, pulling you closer with a quiet exhale that sounded like he’d been holding it in all night.

neither of you said a word. you didn’t need to. whatever this was — this thing that had been building between you — it was no longer just neighbors helping neighbors.

it was so much more.

sure, the hug wasn’t something life-changing, but it definitely shifted something, like a tiny crack in the wall that neither of you were ready to knock down completely. there was this... tension now. not bad, not awkward, just there. like some invisible thread pulling you two closer, though never quite crossing a line — both of you too cautious, too unsure, to see what might happen if you did.

and damn those kids. they picked up on it almost immediately, their sharp little eyes catching every glance that lingered too long or every time toji grumbled just a little less around you.

megumi, of course, was the worst of the two, his quiet observations turning into pointed stares and a knowing smirk that made you want to sink into the floor.

“so,” he started one evening as he watched you and toji navigate an unspoken argument over whether you’d be the one to drive the kids to practice. “are you gonna be my dad’s special lady friend now or what?”

you nearly choked on air, and toji’s head snapped around so fast you were sure he’d pull a muscle.

“megumi,” toji growled, the warning clear in his voice.

megumi just shrugged, completely unbothered. “what? i like her. she’s nice. and you’re less grumpy when she’s around. that’s what matters, right?”

toji pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about smartass kids. but there was a faint flush on his face, one that made you glance away quickly before your own cheeks betrayed you.

megumi’s logic was simple, blunt, and so very megumi. but it stuck with you more than you wanted to admit. if he was okay with whatever this was between you and his dad, maybe... just maybe, that was enough.

you sat cross-legged on the couch, sorting through some old receipts and papers, while your babygirl sprawled on the floor with her coloring book. the soft scratch of her crayons filled the room, a soothing sound that made the evening feel warm and easy.

“mom?” she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.

you glanced up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “yeah, baby?”

she didn’t look up from her coloring, her little fingers gripping the green crayon a bit too tightly as she focused on staying inside the lines. “i like him.”

you blinked, confused at first. “like who, sweetie?”

she paused, tilting her head as if the answer was obvious. “uncle jiji.”

the crayon stilled in her hand, and she finally looked up at you, her eyes wide and sincere. your breath hitched, a small wave of surprise washing over you.

“oh?” you tried to keep your tone light, your fingers fiddling with the papers in your lap. “why’s that?”

“he’s funny,” she said matter-of-factly, returning to her coloring. “and he’s nice. he always listens to megumi, even when megumi’s being bossy. and he told me i’m the best ballerina ever — even better than on tv!”

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. of course, toji had said that.

“he’s just really cool,” she added, as if that sealed the deal.

you set the papers down, your chest tightening in a way that felt both overwhelming and oddly comforting. her words felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

“you really like him, huh?” you asked softly.

she nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing with the motion. “yeah. and megumi’s cool too. he always shares his toys, even his superheroes. i think he’s my best friend.”

the corners of your mouth tugged upward as you leaned back against the couch. “well, i’m glad you think so, baby.”

“do you like him?” she asked suddenly, her eyes locking onto yours, filled with that unnerving, sharp perception only kids seemed to have.

your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down at the papers in your lap, pretending to shuffle them aimlessly. “well… yeah, i think he’s nice too.”

she studied you for a moment before shrugging and returning to her coloring. “good. because you’re happy when you talk to him. and he looks at you like daddy never does.”

your breath caught. her words were simple, innocent even, but they struck something deep. you reached out, smoothing a hand over her hair.

“you’re pretty wise for someone not even ten yet, you know that?” you murmured.

she giggled, leaning into your touch. “i know.”

as she went back to her coloring, you leaned back into the couch, letting the relief settle in. maybe she was right. maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. maybe… it was something good. something you both deserved.

toji sat on the worn couch in his living room, staring blankly at the muted television. the house was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle from megumi’s room. it should’ve been peaceful, but instead, it felt like the silence was screaming at him, pressing all those thoughts he’d been trying to ignore right to the surface.

what the hell was this?

he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand down his face as he let out a low sigh. you were in his house so often now that it was hard to tell where the line was anymore. your girl's kid-sized ballet slippers were right by the door next to megumi’s sneakers. a casserole dish you’d returned sat drying on the counter. you had this way of slotting into his life that felt so natural it scared him.

did he want to address it? maybe. 

maybe not.

you were busy as hell — a working mom with your own kid to think about. toji wasn’t stupid. he knew what he came with. a nine-year-old son, a messy history, and enough emotional baggage to sink a ship. did he really want to drag you into all that?

but then there were moments, like tonight, when the kids had dragged you into some elaborate roleplay involving superheroes and ballerinas. you’d sat cross-legged on the floor, a makeshift cape tied around your shoulders, pretending to be "supermom," and he hadn’t been able to look away.

when you’d caught him staring, you’d just laughed, “what? do i have pizza sauce on my face or something?”

he’d grunted something noncommittal, shaking his head, but his chest had felt tight in a way he couldn’t explain.

and now, here he was, thinking about it again.

his thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of the front door opening. you peeked your head in, a sheepish smile on your face. “hey. sorry, megs forgot his backpack at my place. figured i’d drop it off before i forgot, too.”

he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as you walked in, setting the backpack down by the door. you were still in your work clothes, your shoulders looking a little more tired than usual.

“you could’ve waited till tomorrow,” he muttered, his voice low but not unkind.

“it’s no big deal,” you replied, brushing him off.

he watched as you straightened, lingering in the doorway, and something about the way you hesitated made him speak. “you eaten yet?”

you blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “uh, no, actually.”

he motioned toward the kitchen. “there’s leftovers. you want some?”

your smile softened as you stepped closer. “sure. thanks, toji.”

as you walked past him, his hand twitched at his side, like it wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

in the kitchen, you moved around like you belonged there, grabbing a plate and heating up the food. he leaned against the counter, watching you in silence, and for the first time, he let himself think about what it would mean to let this thing between you be more than unspoken.

“hey,” he said after a moment, his voice rougher than he intended.

you glanced at him over your shoulder. “yeah?”

he opened his mouth, then closed it, the words catching in his throat. instead, he just muttered, “nothing. never mind.”

you tilted your head, studying him for a second, before giving a small nod. “okay.”

but there was something in your eyes, like you knew what he wasn’t saying, and it made his chest ache.

he wasn’t sure if addressing whatever the hell this was would change anything, but seeing the way you fit into his life — into megumi’s life — made the idea of trying feel a little less terrifying.

it wasn’t like you and toji had made any grand declarations. it was all small things, gestures that felt normal but carried an undercurrent of something deeper. grocery runs were the easiest excuse. you’d bump into him on your way home, still in your blazer and heels, and he’d grumble about needing to pick up some snacks for megumi. before you knew it, you’d both be walking side by side, bickering over the best brand of chips.

“you’re seriously buying that brand?” you teased, holding up a bag of chips that toji had tossed into the cart.

“megumi likes ‘em,” he retorted, leaning on the cart with that stupidly casual confidence that annoyed you just enough to make your heart flutter. “and besides, it’s not like your kid’s picky when she raids our pantry.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled all the same, because he wasn’t wrong.

then there were the little fixes around your apartment that seemed to magically get done whenever toji was around. your leaky faucet, the busted door hinge, your temperamental car — he waved off every attempt you made to pay him. “mechanic perks,” he’d say with a shrug, wiping his hands on a rag and giving you a smirk that made you want to both thank him and punch him.

and those car rides? the ones where the kids didn’t even need to be there? yeah, those were starting to feel more like a habit. you’d offer to drop toji off after picking megumi up from practice, and somehow, the drive would extend into picking up your girl from ballet class.

“they gotta meet anyway,” toji would say, his tone so nonchalant it was almost believable. but the way his eyes softened when your babygirl came running out, arms wide open for both of you? that was something he couldn’t fake.

then there was the day your ex finally had enough of whatever this was. the two of you had shown up together, a united front, to pick up your daughter from his place. she’d lit up like a firework when she saw you and toji standing side by side, and you couldn’t help but revel in the sight of her running straight into toji’s waiting arms before hugging you just as tightly.

“this is the guy you’ve been parading around with?” your ex sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he leaned against the doorframe. “what, you think a deadbeat like him is an upgrade?”

toji’s posture stiffened, his grip on your daughter tightening just slightly as she clung to his neck. you opened your mouth to retort, but toji beat you to it, his voice calm but laced with steel.

“funny coming from you,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he stared your ex down. “least i actually show up for her.”

your ex faltered, his face contorting in anger, but he didn’t have a comeback. you didn’t stick around long enough for him to try.

as you buckled your daughter into the car, her voice piped up, innocent and bright. “jiji, are you coming over for dinner?”

toji glanced at you, and for a moment, something passed between you. a silent understanding, an acknowledgment of whatever the hell this was.

“yeah, kid,” he said, ruffling her hair with a small grin. “i’m coming over.”

and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were walking this road alone.

the house was warm with the kind of peace that only came after a long, chaotic day. your babygirl and megumi were a tangled heap on the couch, her tiny head resting on his shoulder while he leaned back with his mouth slightly open, fast asleep. the tv played muted scenes of superheroes saving the world, but the real action was in the kitchen, where you and toji stood shoulder to shoulder by the sink.

"you sure you’re not just washing that same plate for the third time?” you teased softly, nudging him with your elbow as he scrubbed with more focus than seemed necessary.

toji smirked but didn’t look up, his voice low and gravelly. “just making sure it’s clean. you don’t want megumi whining about leftover crumbs, trust me.”

you chuckled, rinsing another dish under the warm water, and for a moment, it was just the soft clink of plates, the jazz playing quietly from your speaker, and the faint sound of your daughter’s steady breathing in the living room.

but something was different tonight. the air felt heavier, charged, like it was holding its breath. you could feel it in the way toji’s arm brushed against yours as he passed a dish to you, in the way his fingers lingered a second too long when he handed you the towel.

“you really didn’t have to stay and help with this,” you said, glancing at him.

he shrugged, still not meeting your gaze. “figured i owed you. besides, you cooked. least i can do is clean up.”

his voice was quieter than usual, almost shy, and that wasn’t a word you’d ever thought you’d associate with toji fushiguro. it made something in your chest tighten.

you turned off the faucet, drying your hands as you looked over at him. he was still focused on the plate in his hands, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set like he was bracing himself.

“toji?”

he finally looked at you, and there it was — that softness in his eyes that he didn’t let show often. it made your breath catch, made the world feel like it had shrunk down to just the two of you standing in this little kitchen.

he set the plate down slowly, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to face you fully. for a moment, neither of you said anything. the jazz filled the silence, but the air between you was louder than words.

his hand came up hesitantly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his calloused fingers grazing your cheek. “you’ve been good to him, y’know,” he murmured, his voice rough but soft in the way he said it. “to us.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. all you could do was nod, your throat tight as you looked up at him. his face was closer now, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips like he was searching for something — permission, maybe, or courage.

you didn’t even realize you’d moved until your hand rested lightly on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

and then it happened.

he leaned in, slowly, almost cautiously, and your eyes fluttered shut just as his lips brushed against yours. it was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away — when you leaned into him instead — it deepened.

toji kissed like he did everything else: fully, unapologetically, with an intensity that left you breathless. his hands found your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and you slid yours up to rest on his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the way he held you like you were something fragile and precious all at once.

the kiss wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was slow, deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every second of it. it was the kind of kiss that left your knees weak, your head spinning, and your heart pounding in your chest.

when you finally pulled back, both of you a little breathless, his forehead rested against yours.

“damn,” he muttered, his voice low and a little shaky.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt. “yeah,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper.

the moment stretched between you, warm and heavy and perfect. and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

megumi stirred awake first, his sharp eyes blinking groggily as he took in the scene. your baby girl was still curled up against him, her face smushed against his shoulder, and he wrinkled his nose, trying to shake her off gently without waking her. it was only when he looked over to the kitchen that he paused, his brain catching up with what he was seeing.

his dad. toji. standing ridiculously close to you by the sink, both of you talking in low voices like the world outside didn’t exist. toji’s hand brushed your arm lightly as he reached for a towel, and you laughed softly, a sound that felt too intimate for megumi to process this early in his half-asleep state.

“ugh, gross,” he mumbled under his breath, sitting up straighter and inadvertently jostling your babygirl awake.

she yawned, rubbing her eyes and giving him a confused look. “what’s gross?”

“nothing,” megumi said quickly, his face heating up as he avoided looking at her — or at the scene in the kitchen that was playing out like the ending of one of those superhero movies he loved but would never admit made him feel things.

by the time you and toji noticed the kids were awake, megumi had already schooled his expression into something neutral, though his sharp eyes flicked between the two of you as you made your way over.

“sorry for waking you up, sweetheart,” you said softly to your kid, crouching down to smooth her hair.

toji, ever the blunt one, crossed his arms and grunted, “time to get going, brats.”

megumi shot him a look, one that said you’re not fooling me, old man, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he stood up and stretched, deliberately not looking at how his dad’s gaze lingered on you for just a second too long.

at the door, the kids exchanged their goodbyes in their usual awkward but affectionate way — your baby girl giving megumi a quick hug that he tolerated with a huff.

toji ruffled megumi’s hair roughly, earning an annoyed grunt. “come on, kid. say thank you.”

megumi rolled his eyes but muttered a grudging, “thanks for dinner,” before looking up at you.

and then, because megumi was too perceptive for his own good, he added, “and for putting up with him.”

toji frowned, his brows knitting together. “watch it, smartass.”

but the way you laughed — soft and warm and filled with something megumi couldn’t quite name — made toji’s expression soften.

as you leaned down to hug your babygirl goodnight, megumi caught his dad watching you again, his face doing that weird thing it did when he was proud of a home run or secretly enjoying one of megumi’s superhero tangents.

“dad,” megumi said as they stepped into the hallway.

“what?” toji grunted, avoiding his son’s gaze.

megumi smirked, the kind that made him look way older than his nine years. “you’re doing that thing.”

toji frowned, feigning ignorance. “what thing?”

“you know. that thing my favorite superhero does when he saves his secret girlfriend,” megumi said with a dramatic air, glancing back at your door before looking at his dad again.

toji snorted, trying — and failing — not to look flustered. “quit it, kid.”

but megumi didn’t miss the way his dad’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. he knew exactly what was going on.

love? probably.

yeah, megumi was pretty sure his dad loved you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

it was funny, really, how quickly time had flown. one moment, you were corralling a tutu-clad, glitter-faced babygirl to ballet class, and the next, you were breaking up arguments between her and megumi over whose superhero knowledge was superior. 

"they’re literally fake, megumi!" she'd shriek. 

"so are ballerinas in space!" he’d yell back. 

and there you and toji would be, slumped at the dining table, each nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee as you exchanged weary, knowing looks.

“how do ten-year-olds even have this much energy?” you’d mutter, pressing your fingertips into your temples.

toji, half-laughing, half-grumbling, would reply, “they don’t. they’re siphoning it off us.”

it had been a year and a half of this — this weird, beautiful, chaotic thing you’d built. the kids, their shared antics, and the way they declared every single dinner a sleepover had woven your lives together so seamlessly that it felt like you’d never been apart in the first place.

but the truth? the sleepover excuse wasn’t just for the kids anymore. you and toji had grown so comfortable in this rhythm, this routine, that it felt like breathing. and yet, there was still this unspoken thing between you, hanging in the air like a question neither of you wanted to ask.

it was easy to ignore, easier still to pretend that this was just how things were. you’d watch as toji threw his head back in laughter at one of megumi’s sarcastic comments, his broad shoulders shaking, or when he’d lean in to help your girl tie her ballet shoes — his fingers oddly gentle for someone so rough around the edges. those moments made your heart ache in ways you didn’t want to name.

and then there was the way he looked at you when the kids weren’t paying attention. like when megumi would drag your babygirl out into the yard to “train” her in superhero moves, and you’d catch toji’s eyes lingering on you just a second too long.

“what?” you’d ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

“nothin’,” he’d say, but the way his lips twitched into a small smile betrayed him.

but you knew it wasn’t nothing. it hadn’t been nothing for a while now. and maybe it was time to stop pretending.

your ex hadn’t made it easy, of course. every time he paraded some new flavor of the month in front of your girl, you’d see the disappointment in her eyes, and it made your chest tighten. but then there’d be toji — steady, dependable, his quiet reassurances and the way he always managed to make her smile again.

“he’s better than dad,” she’d told you once, out of the blue, her voice small but firm.

and maybe that was the final nudge you needed.

the night felt heavier than usual, the quiet hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of the floorboards the only sounds accompanying you as you stood side by side in the kitchen. toji rinsed the last plate, handing it to you with a quick glance that lingered a little too long.

“they’re getting wilder,” he muttered, nodding toward the living room where your girl and megumi were sprawled on the sofa, limbs tangled as if they'd fought sleep until it finally won.

you chuckled softly, drying the plate and setting it aside. “they’re ten. this is the warm-up for what’s coming in a few years.”

he let out a low groan, running a hand through his hair. “don’t remind me. thought i’d have more time before the hormones kicked in.”

you smirked, leaning against the counter as he dried his hands on a dishtowel. it was domestic in a way that felt almost too intimate, like crossing an invisible line. and yet, neither of you had stepped back.

“toji,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

he looked up, the weight in your tone pulling his full attention. “yeah?”

you hesitated, biting your lip as you fidgeted with the edge of the dish towel. how do you even start this? you thought about the past year and a half, the shared laughter, the quiet moments, the way his presence had become a constant in your life. the way your girl lit up when he was around. the way you lit up.

“this,” you finally said, gesturing between the two of you, your words coming out softer than you intended. “whatever this is... do you think we should talk about it?”

his brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, your heart sank. but then he nodded, setting the towel down on the counter.

“i’ve been thinkin’ about it,” he admitted, his voice low.

“and?” you prompted, your heart pounding in your chest.

he sighed, leaning against the counter beside you, his gaze fixed on the floor. “look, i’m not great at this kinda thing,” he began, his fingers tapping absently against the edge of the counter. “but... you’ve been good for me. for megumi. hell, for both of us.”

your breath caught, and you turned to face him fully. “toji...”

he held up a hand, cutting you off gently. “lemme finish,” he said, his voice a little rough. he looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to figure out how to say something he’d been holding onto for too long.

“i didn’t think this was gonna happen,” he said finally. “not for me. not again.” he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “but you... you made it so easy. like it’s not somethin’ to be scared of. like it’s just... there. y’know?”

you nodded, your throat tight as you listened.

“and it’s not just about me,” he continued, his voice softening. “it’s about them. megumi... he’s happier than i’ve seen him in years. and your girl? she’s somethin’ special, and the way you’ve raised her... damn.” he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

you felt your cheeks heat, and you looked down, trying to compose yourself.

“so yeah,” he said, his voice steady now. “i don’t know what this is, but if you’re askin’ me if i want more of it... then yeah. i do.”

your breath hitched, and when you looked up, the sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten.

“toji,” you said again, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve wanted to say something for a while now, but I didn’t know how. you’ve been... everything we didn’t know we needed. me and my girl. you’ve been there in ways no one else ever has, and it’s just... it’s so easy with you. i want this too.”

his lips curved into a small, relieved smile, and for a moment, the weight of the unspoken words between you lifted.

“yeah?” he asked softly, his voice almost teasing.

you smiled back, nodding. “yeah.”

and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he reached out and pulled you into a hug. it wasn’t rushed or desperate — it was steady, grounding, the kind of hug that felt like coming home. and when he whispered, “i’m all in if you are,” into your hair, you felt the last of your hesitation melt away.

because with toji, love wasn’t just a possibility — it was a promise.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

another two years later, and the kids were twelve. twelve. a big deal, according to them. suddenly they were "basically teenagers," and with that came a whole new level of attitude and pride. and you and toji? you were more than grateful for the chaos. or, as he liked to tease, “engaged to it.” yeah, engaged. took the man long enough — three and a half, maybe four years — but who’s counting?

your kids, of course, had taken the news with the kind of casual confidence only twelve-year-olds could muster. “about time,” megumi had muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs from your girl, who’d just grinned and said, “told you he liked her.”

and publicly? they carried themselves with the kind of poise that made you and toji bite back laughter more than once. “yeah, that’s my dad,” your girl would say with a shrug as toji dropped her off at ballet, towering over all the other dads and somehow looking both intimidating and incredibly proud as she disappeared into the studio.

megumi was just as bad. “that’s my mom,” he’d say to anyone within earshot at his little league games, pointing you out as you cheered the loudest from the stands, sometimes alongside toji who couldn’t help but smirk at your enthusiasm. “and yeah, that’s my sister,” he’d add, nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t a big deal that they’d practically become inseparable siblings over the years.

of course, behind closed doors, they were just kids. kids who still watched superhero movies while pretending not to, kids who choreographed ballet routines to superhero soundtracks because cool kids don’t watch superhero movies.

and you? you were still on that hustle, balancing work, motherhood, and planning a wedding with the kind of grace that made toji shake his head in awe every time.

“how do you do it?” he’d asked one night, watching you juggle your laptop and the kids’ school schedules.

“coffee and pure spite,” you’d replied, smirking over the rim of your mug.

toji, though? he’d built something solid too. his mechanic shop was finally open, a dream he’d quietly nurtured for years. seeing him in his element, sleeves rolled up, hands covered in grease, and that signature smirk plastered across his face, was enough to make your heart skip a beat every damn time.

life wasn’t perfect — there were still late nights, homework battles, and the occasional tantrum — but it was good. no, scratch that. it was damn good.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost. banners by cafekitsune — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[chimivx]

“…i want you, bless my soul…”

Four months.

You met him on your first day in your first class, your professor the agitated type, the kind that gave you piles of homework with every lesson. He sat beside you, slipping into his chair right before the syllabus slid onto the table in front of you.

Dark hair cut short in the back lived a little more free in the front, on the top, growing into a messier, curlier mop as the weeks drew by, on and on. Tall, broad, and most definitely strong as hell, he was gorgeous. There simply wasn’t any other word for it, he walked into class every week with his golden skin aglow no matter where the sun lived in the sky. You’d be lying if you said your stomach didn’t twist in knots watching his wide eyes scan the room, standing there near the doorway in a white t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans clasped to his waist with a leather belt.

What in the fucking Calvin Klein ad just walked in here?

Don’t sit next to me, don’t sit next to me, please don’t-

He wore Dior Sauvage, just enough of it to charm your eyes in his direction, the two of your glances meeting for only a few seconds, yet long enough to know that this was going to be a long semester.

After that first week, that first class, he showed up on time, sometimes even earlier than you, and sure enough he’d be in that seat and he’d offer you the tiniest smile while he pushed in his chair to let you pass behind him.

Did he own any clothes that fit?

It felt like every week he’d have on a new shirt that clung to him like seran wrap, every little chiseled sculpted by Michaelangelo notch in his body, his chest, completely and utterly visible. As if he didn’t know it, more than enough time in class he’d spend with his hands behind his head, his biceps tightening in his sleeves, bulging beneath the fabric that you waited to see rip.

Too often you’d have to tear your eyes away, too lost in wonder as to what kind of marvel sat beside you. Six foot something, perfectly built, not only did his appearance alone catch you off guard, but his ability to be so gentle. A smiley, sappy giant full of tooth rotting sweetness. Each raise of his hand, how he toyed with his pen between his firm fingers, the way he’d listen to other people speak — his eyebrows pulling up in the center, his eyes widening with wonder. He’d keep to his space, never once invading yours. Respectful, he knew to say hello, goodbye, would ask you quiet questions, like what page number you were on, and he’d give you thanks into oblivion.

It wasn’t until a month or so had passed that you realized it. One morning you stood in front of the mirror for too long, put a little too much effort into your makeup, into your hair. Spritzing a bottle of perfume to your wrist that you saved for special occasions, when the glass tapped back onto the shelf and you dabbed your wrists together, you gasped.

Damn.

Swapping the lacey sweater for something more casual, you know, for class, you pulled half of your hair up and back, letting some of it hang forward, praying to anyone who’d help that it didn’t look like you woke up before your alarm to get ready for a class you half cared about.

He noticed.

He sat down, walking in a few minutes after you, and his eyes lingered in your direction. Not that you could tell, nor were you paying attention, you were sitting backward in your chair with your nose in your phone. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t good at being nonchalant like you’d been for nearly two months now.

Besides, it didn’t work. He didn’t say a word the entire class, only his hello and his goodbye.

It didn’t upset you. That’s what you told yourself, the lies you fed your brain to pretend to feel better. It didn’t upset you, he was a boy in a class you didn’t see anywhere else on campus. He probably had a girlfriend. Look at him, listen to him, he definitely has a girlfriend.

By the next class you were back to the usual, the snoozed my alarm twice before getting up in a rush, a hoodie and baggy jeans. Hair thrown up, makeup minimal, you accepted your fate.

You weren’t expecting him to be in the room first, you’ve narrowed down his time frame of entry, typically within ten minutes of the lecture starting depending on when you’d arrive. He was five minutes too early. Giving him the tightest smile, you shimmied behind his chair and mimicked his greeting, shoving yourself into your seat, not prepared for fifteen minutes of silence with him beside you.

Nose in phone, nose in phone.

It was all you could do to keep from gawking, for some reason he was fresher than normal. Black t-shirt, denim jacket on the back of his chair, silver jewelry hanging off of him. He wore a different cologne, one you couldn’t pick out, but god it was delicious you wanted to lick it straight off his neck. He definitely sprayed it to his wrists too, typical, you could lick it off of him there too, why not. Maybe even his chest. No- anything beneath that shirt that should be squeezing the air out of his lungs was lethal, how was every muscle visible? How could he walk around like that, he had to know that-

“Did you do the homework?”

Great.

You didn’t dress yourself up to keep the giddy high school level crush on the DL, but the way you jumped at his words and your cheeks warmed definitely helped. And, yes, you were staring.

“I, uh, yeah, I did.”

If he noticed anything, he didn’t show it.

“Mind if I see it to make sure I got it right? You’re better at this than I am.”

Juvenile, all of it, from the way he checked his answers to the way he slid your notebook back over to you with a shake of his head. Nothing else was shared, the class had begun and he focused on your irritating professor who assigned similar homework for the third week in a row.

Holding onto the way he spoke to you, the soft tone, the warmth in his eyes, the subtle graveliness he forced but then got rid of when he answered questions aloud, you truly felt seventeen years old all over again.

He asked you a question.

He talked to you.

Did he spend more time on how he looked for you?

No, it’s for his girlfriend. The one he definitely has.

The girlfriend that he-

“Whatever perfume you had on last week… I liked it.”

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t wait around for you to say anything. He scooped his books into his arms, and he walked out of the classroom, leaving you in absolute shambles. Nerves lived within you for a week, so many nights spent lying awake thinking about him, what he said to you, what you were going to do. If you wear the perfume again you’re setting yourself up for exposure, you may as well just tell him you have a crush on him to his face. But, then again, if you didn’t wear it, you’d lose his interest. He wouldn’t think you had an interest in him, and what if he told you that because he does have an interest in you?

Oh god.

What if he knows?

You wore the perfume. One spritz of it over your heart before you left your room, enough that he’d just be able to tell if he paid as much attention as he suddenly seemed to be.

Early again, beating you to a class you tried to get to even earlier today, you did not miss the small smile that pulled at his lips as you slipped behind his chair. It was the only thing shared all class, a smile somewhere in between lessons when he caught your eye. He had that same cologne on, the one from last week, the one that had you envisioning what it’d be like to have your tongue dragging all over his body, it was hard to not look at him.

Oh, he definitely knew.

And so it began.

For another month, perfume and cologne alike, worn every class, you started to share more than smiles. He’d lean your way for questions and answers, would ask about the homework, the assignments, sometimes when he didn’t even need it, asking for an answer he already had scribbled on his paper. Fighting the nerves, the way your belly filled with butterflies and did cartwheels within you, you started to share more than just classroom talk. While you worked you chatted, you learned where he was from, where he came from, where you came from and why you both were here.

He was funny.

Funny in the way he didn’t know he was funny, oftentimes asking you what he did to make you laugh like that. You’d cover your mouth and pray the giggles away, unable to tell him how adorable he really was.

He filled every shoe you profiled him with. Kind, sweet, funny, gentle giant.

Chiseled chest his cologne, the one you loved, radiated from.

But you didn’t figure that out until the following month.

Month four.

Four months was all it took, and he was yours.

Class whispers turned into coffee dates. Coffee dates turned into homework dates, which turned into dinner dates.

By the end of the third you were wrapped in his sheets, wrapped in him, cologne on your tongue and lips pressed to his, whispering confessions of how long you liked each other but both felt too nervous to say anything. Reveling in pride, that you weren’t as obvious as you thought yourself to be, his sparkling grin overtook his face and he whispered two words that cradled your heart.

“I knew.”

[hiddenreamers]

Unlikely pair

SUMMARY: Where Oscar is dating a musician known for strictness and harsh comments on survival shows. To everyone's surprise, the unlikely pair is nothing short of perfect.

yntheone made a new post:

Close your eyes, take my time Let's remember this moment

Photograph (prod. Offonoff) is out on Thursday

Comments:

user1: WHATTT

user2: this is not a drill I repeat this is not a drill

user3: girl you can't just drop this on us and bail 💀

user4: is this real or is this my ambien

user5: i see the saga of blurry pictures continues

↳ user6: it's a vibe, you hater 😤

user7: omg is this the song realoffonoff played on his live the other day??

user8: who is this and why is it not me 😩

user9: she destroyed everyone on Don Mills Daebak remix just to turn around and do cute rnb songs 😭 queen shit 👑👑

oscarpiastri: can't wait ❤️ liked by yntheone

↳ yntheone: ❤️❤️ ↳ user10: the last person I expected to see here ↳ user11: 🤨🤨 well that's suspicious

user12: You need to do an entire album with realoffonoff !! Cigarette was amazing 😍

↳ user13: oh my godddd do you think cigarette was about the same guy? ↳ user14: definitely ?? i mean how can you listen to yntheone sing she wants you to be addicted to her like cigarettes and go "nah I'll pass" ?? brain damage ahh behaviour

yntheone tagged oscarpiastri in a post:

Do you really think you're that good??

(He is.)

Comments:

user15: babe wake up new roman empire just dropped

user16: not the caption 💀💀 quoting herself like the queen she is

↳ user17: giving trainees war flashbacks lmao

user18: he better know how to fight 😤😤 im throwing hands

user19: this can't be the same person who tore apart trainees on live tv 😐 since when is she all lovey dovey

↳ user20: if you had Oscar Piastri smiling at you, you'd be lovey dovey too

user21: out of all the people I suspected to be the guy from a blurry picture, this man wasn't even on the list ??? there's opposites and then there's THIS

↳ user22: ya I'm genuinely surprised someone as calm as him can keep up with her ↳ user23: yall are forgetting he's keeping up with Lando Norris

oscarpiastri: I really am liked by yntheone

landonorris: he's not as good as me but I guess he's still kind of ok

↳ danielricciardo: you might want to rethink that mate ↳ landonorris: blocked

user24: I'll just assume every love song she's done has been about him

↳ user25: Cigarette?? Moon?? Photograph?? Make the Move?? He better know the poetry that she's written about him or he gon catch these hands ↳ oscarpiastri: I do know and I appreciate every word

user25: finally Mclaren found someone who can actually pull off the papaya and not look silly

user26: yntheone is taken?? worst day of my life tbh

user27: imagine all the contestants on survival shows that will come in mclaren merch 💀💀 we're about to unlock a new level of embarrassment that shouldn't be possible

user28: this is the best golden retriever black cat couple, everyone else can go home

user29: for his own sake, I hope he knows what he's gotten himself into 😩😩

↳ user30: no better racing motivation than remembering your girlfriend is famous for roasting people in front of the entire nation

f1fans_official made a new post:

oscarpiastri and yntheone on their little New York trip 🥺🥺

Comments:

user31: yes I watch f1 for the rivalry and driving

↳ user32: these two are the main plot

user33: am I the only one bothered by the fact that she's a rude bitch??

↳ user34: yes sis you're the only one who can't tell between a rude bitch and a professional realistically evaluating wanna-be artists

user35: no thoughts head empty thinking about my favourite paddock couple

user36: i can't even be mad she's taken my man 😞😞 they look cute together

user37: hope they don't break up I can't take going through my parents' divorce twice

user38: if Lando and yntheone become friends we're going to see the most iconic duo of all time

↳ user39: the Lando slander is about to get serious 💀 ↳ user40: Oscar is gonna be bald by the end of the year because of them lmao

oscarpiastri tagged yntheone in a post:

Resting and recharging before the next race weekend

Comments:

user41: it's giving he asked for no pickles

yntheone: no need to thank me, I know I'm the only thing you need 😴 liked by oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri: wouldn't have it any other way ❤️

user42: forget guard dog boyfriend, Oscar's got a guard dog girlfriend and I'm here for it

↳ user44: feminism

landonorris: guys help me she's scary

↳ yntheone: I know where you live 🥰🥰 ↳ oscarpiastri: yntheone I'll hold your bag baby ↳ user43: forget the office this is the sitcom i'd watch ↳ georgerussell63: the bigger the distance from angry yntheone the funnier it is

user45: honestly why would he go for a manly rude bitch?? there are so many better women out there, just sad

↳ user46: have you considered the fact that men are not a monolith and have, in fact, individual preferences? or is your IQ too low to comprehend that?

user47: I will tell my children this is the royal pair

user48: can't wait for her the sample Oscar and add him to a beat 🔥🔥

user49: ok now I get why she wrote absolute bangers about him 😍

user50: if she's in the stands cheering him on, FIA should give Oscar a penalty for unfair advantage 😤😤

[r0-boat]

Feral!Lighter brain rot

I'm very normal about his EP

Cw: Dubcon, consent non-con, rough sex, No beta we die like men

Thank you for coming to my TED talk...*explodes*

Even the undefeated champion can get overwhelmed whether it be from stress or simply becoming drunk off adrenaline from a fight.

All he wants to do is maul the next thing he sees, like a feral animal.

That's what pretty little things like you are for. He tells you over and over that he'd never hurt you in a soft voice that makes your heart swoon. But you know full well that he can.

He knows precisely what you want, You're not exactly the most subtle with your desires.

That thought had been driving you crazy. The What if Lighter: Your sweet, protective boyfriend wasn't so sweet with you? To see you as a toy to play with than someone that he cherishes more than anything else in the world.

Why not give you an experience to remember?

This is what you want. To have him come in just when you're about to go to bed. You're lying on the couch when your door knob clicks and turns. You know exactly who it is... There was only one other person you gave your spare key to.

It's not that you didn't want to see him. It's just that you weren't expecting him; usually, he would shoot you a maximum of three-word text when he came to crash or visit.

But this time, he practically barges in, slamming the door behind him. The look in his eye shivers down your spine as an imposing figure stocking closer toward you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, especially when he left his jacket and shirt, dropped on the floor forgotten. He took his red scarf and wrapped it around his left hand.

"On. Your. Knees."

That wasn't a request.

You looked at him, eyes wide., Whatever was showing on your television was long forgotten. Your legs shook everything, urging you to drop to your knees and let him do whatever he wanted. But something within you stirred inside, whether it be curiosity or blind courage. It made your lips move.

"Make me."

Lighter's green eyes flicker at your blatant challenge. His eyebrows raise slightly. The silence is deafening as his lips curve into a smile. His left hand grips the red fabric as the other takes off his shades, tossing them.

He comes after you in a flash, His hand roughly grabbing at your color, yanking you until he hoists you over his shoulders. His fingers dig into your back as he brings you to your bedroom, tossing you on the bed with little care of where you end up before crawling on top of you, licking his lips. He could practically smell your arousal.

And he was just as aroused as you were. Scratch that He's more aroused than you are. He feels so bad for handling you similarly to how he handles riffraff. But he can't deny how hard his cock was pressing against his jeans.

He lets out a snarl His arms flexing as he tears his pants in two. Before doing the same to your shirt and pants.

"Hey! I just got those!" You yell, hitting his rock-hard chest. It's kind of cute how you think you can hurt him.

"too bad doll, should've listened to me the first time."

There was no ounce of gentleness to how the man handles you to flip over, grabbing your wrists, and tying you with the scarf.

Coating his fingers in his saliva before plunging it inside you. His hand and thick fingers force you open. His callused palm and rough scarred fingers groping your ass spreading you whiter as wide as he could to force his fingers deeper stretching you out for the hardness you can feel grinding against the crack of your ass.

Fuck... Your muffled screams sound so good. He wanted to be at least gentle when he fucks you, but It looked like his body had other plans. Taking you like this was so thrilling. His eyes rolled back as he lost himself in his own lust, ravaging your body till there was nothing left.

"Gonna fuck you... Going to fill you up and teach that naughty little mouth not to talk back!" Lighter growls in your ear taking out his fingers before plunge again in your mouth You're empty hole soon filled with something bigger screaming against his mouth and fingers as he immediately sets his pace.

You're tasting yourself on your tongue. The thought alone was setting Lighter a blaze.

Why do you make him like this? He could feel every ounce of self-control crack and crumble.

He was making so much noise from the bed rattling and his own moans your neighbors could probably hear but to be honest he doesn't give a fuck. All he cares about is fucking all the stress he has built up from god knows how long.

From how tightly you were gripping his poor cock, to your shaking, quivering body and you're sobbing, muffled mess with your tears soaking his thumb and palm, you were close. Lighter was, too. Lighter was so close. And all he wanted to do was fill you up fill your insides tell you were leaking.

You felt him sink his teeth into your shoulder before the both of you exploded at the same time. Lighter can feel you milking him as he came harder than he ever did in his life.

For the first time since he first started training, his body felt sore as he practically collapsed on top of you before quickly rolling off so he doesn't crush you.

When he finally catches his breath, He rolls over to your side, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest, kissing your face.

"hey hey hey...shhh It's okay... It's okay we're done... I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

He'd never forgive himself if he did. But he got his answer when your arms wrapped back around him and he saw your beaming smile. He sighs in relief smiling back kissing your lips.

"I guess It's safe to say that you liked it.... Good... I did too."

[wonsroyalty]

it's okay, i'm okay : ̗̀➛이희승

i don't want him anyway, girl, take him..

✧heeseung x f!reader

genre/warnings: 3.8k, i don’t want to give too much away :0 but angst, relationship, cheating, shouting, sex, fighting, mentions of wishing death. this in no way shape or form represents heeseung, it's purely fictional! italics are flashback scenes!!!

a/n: i’m obsessed with this song omg + i listened to white ferrari (it’s my cry song 😕) at one point while writing this so theres a few references AND i was listening to the new tyler album so if it’s not sad enough it’s because i was so excited 😭😭 ooo and the favourite song choice is from those playlists that enha made at the start of the romance untold era 🔥🔥 for @sofsofenso my no.1 fan, mwah 😽 i hope you like it !!

masterlist

"I. Love. You. So. Fucking. Much." he kissed you between each word.

Your chest was heavy as you held his weight on your stomach but you managed to laugh at his actions.

"We'll be together forever right?" you held your pinky out.

"Forever and ever!" he crossed his own with yours.

Heeseung Lee wasn’t dead but you truly wished he was.

Your naive 11-year-old heart truly believed that you'd be with him forever. He was your first everything.

You were that cheesy couple in the group that everyone believed would get married and have kids and stay together till you were old and grey.

Too bad, considering your luck was always terrible and you had attracted the devil's spawn.

The fleeting moments of you sneaking him into your room, the lingering touches you shared and the overall thought of his existence skated around the interior of your brain.

You desperately wanted to get rid of them but they brought a sense of comfort that only he could fill.

flashback!-

"I think you might be my soulmate.." he trailed off.

"Hee!" you scolded him. "Wait until after we meet your parents."

You smoothed down your black skirt, checking your outfit in the mirror one last time.

He helped you into his red leather jacket before pulling you into his embrace.

"Heeseung!"

"Okay, okay baby." he pulled away. "Let me get a picture before we go,"

The flash of his polaroid camera captured your smitten expression as he kissed your cheek.

His parents loved you, they claimed that their son had a glow around him whenever he was with you.

"Oh my, sorry. I can't focus when I look into your eyes, pretty." Heeseung whispered.

You lightly hit his chest. "I was telling you to look at this."

"Wait, new lockscreen and it's still me!" he got up and did a little dance.

"Yeah, but that not what I- "

He picked you up and twirled you around before attacking you with tickles.

"Stop, stop!"

"Tell me how much you love me and I'll stop." he cackled.

"I love you, so much, Hee." you collapsed onto his bed in a fit of giggles.

He flopped down next to you and pulled you into his chest.

"You really are my soulmate."

What a bunch of crap.

"Yn.. don't look but she's.. over there." Winter glared in the direction of the girl who was partly responsible for the end of your relationship.

flashback!-

Keeho rested an arm around your shoulder as he showed you around the party.

"You're so drunk already." You laughed at him. “Again.”

It was common for Keeho to get heavily drunk at pre’s and every time he said he would stop but just didn’t follow through.

"AM not." he pouted.

The two of you walked over to your friends.

"Where's your man?" Sungchan laughed behind his cup.

"We're not always together." you grumbled.

His comment did make you curious though as you had both made your way to the party separately.

Your grandfather was sick and you wanted to visit him in the hospital before making your way to Keeho's 19th, so you had told Heeseung he could meet you whenever he got there.

Chenle told you that he'd seen him in the kitchen earlier so they all followed you there.

"Heeseung! What the fuck!" you shouted.

Yunjin was pressed up against your boyfriend who had a hand in her hair. They were about an inch away from kissing but judging by the gloss on his lips, you could tell that they already had.

He gently pushed her away with a laugh.

"Baby, hey." he waved to your friends too.

"What is your problem?!"

You pushed him away as he got closer to you.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.

"Guys.." Winter called after you.

His feet stopped once you were inside a bathroom.

"I've never seen you that mad before, pretty." he laughed.

"Let me out."

"No way... you're actually jealous."

Your jaw dropped.

"I'm not jealous, I'm breaking up with you."

"No, you're not." His face dropped. “Your emotions are high right now because your grandfather is sick. Don’t let that cloud your judgement.”

All you could do was look away because you believed his words.

"Come on, let's talk about this." he attempted to kiss you.

"Get off! You've clearly kissed someone else tonight and you expect me to want to stay with you despite you cheating."

This wasn't even the first time you'd caught him “cheating” on you.

He laughed in your face.

"This isn't Yunjin's lip combo." he joked.

"Well, it's someone's isn't it?" you frowned.

"So, you're gonna throw away 9 years because you don't trust me?" he calmed down.

Spolier! He'd convinced you to stay with him once again!

You remember the disappointed looks from all of your friends when you walked out with his arm around you.

They weren’t the only people who began to warn you about Heeseung.

Every new person you’d interacted with told you that he was bad news but you reassured them that he was just getting used to university.

He seemed to switch as soon as you’d gotten to uni, badmouthing you to his friends, staying out late, missing dates, ignoring you and each time you’d take him back.

You even took him back when you walked into the lunch area and caught him kissing your seat-mate from Politics.

Your best friends didn’t speak to you for a week after that one.

But you’d become desensitised to the feeling you got when you’d catch him. Taking him back immediately saved you from having to argue with him and you were tired.

Tired from the stress of your degree and having to deal with Heeseung.

Everywhere you went, you received looks of pity. No one envied you for being in a relationship with Heeseung, they all felt sorry for you.

You continued to defend him and every time he’d act out and chip off a piece of your heart, leaving you embarrassed and scared.

“Hee is my soulmate.” you reiterated.

Heeseung was all you ever wanted.

He was all you’d ever known.

Hee was your first everything.

Letting him go, would be losing a part of yourself and you weren’t quite sure if you were capable of doing that yet.

But four months later at the same house you'd been pushed to your limit.

flashback!-

“Great to see that you aren’t as drunk as last time.” Chenle poked at Keeho.

“I’m on lookout, Jiung smashed my dining room table last time.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yn!” someone turned you around.

“Hey, Yunjin.” you all sighed.

“Where’s Heeseung?” she pouted.

You really didn’t know and you were tired of people asking you that.

“I don’t know, go find him if you want.” you shrugged.

You had every reason to be mad at him.

It was your 10-year anniversary and you hadn’t done anything to celebrate together.

The party was his idea of “having a fun anniversary”.

“Yunjin, don’t come over to kill the vibe.” Sungchan groaned.

“Fine.” she grumbled.

On her way past you, she pretended to trip in order to dump her drink down your front.

“Shit.” you ran off to a bathroom in order to get the ice out of your bra, not even stopping to hear Winter scold Yunjin.

Most of them were locked so you opted for the one in Keeho’s bedroom.

On the verge of tears, you attempted to calm yourself down and get a shirt from his walk in wardrobe.

You threw on a jersey that matched with your jeans and were on your way out when someone came into the main area of the room.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you for ages.” a girl giggled.

‘What is Yunjin doing here?’

“Well, I’m a busy man.”

‘Heeseung?! What kind of a sick joke was this?’

“Ugh don’t remind me. I asked Yn where you were and she literally said she didn’t care.”

‘I didn’t say that??’

“What?” Heeseung sounded confused.

“Enough about her, I’m right here. And we have all the time in the world.”

You could hear her kiss him.

The same lips that had spent countless hours pressed against your own.

The same lips that spoke promises of fulfilment and expressed their gratitude towards you.

The same lips that whispered words of encouragement when it was just the two of you, late at night while you gave yourself to him.

You felt disgusted.

Heeseung Lee wasn’t dead, but you truly wished he was. You wanted him to suffer an unspeakable fate for hurting you but every time you thought of him, you couldn’t bear the thought of having to live without him.

The remaining fragments of your heart fell into the palm of your hand. There was nothing to fight for anymore.

You should’ve moved long before the moans reached your ear but you were frozen in shock.

‘Is this what people warned me of.’ you panicked. ‘I should’ve never let it get this far.”

Your feet didn’t wait and moved involuntarily as you gave away your hiding spot.

You needed to see it for yourself.

The tears that you’d been holding in for months fell down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this- not today.”

Pushing past them you ran downstairs and out the doors, attracting the attention of your friends.

“Yn? What, wait!” Heeseung shouted, running after you as he slipped his clothes back on.

He grabbed your arm pulling you back into his embrace.

You shoved him away violently this time.

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“You can’t keep saying you’re sorry and then acting out and embarrassing me every. single. time. I’m fed up Heeseung, I am done with you for good. The pain I feel just from loving you is a burden that I shouldn’t have to face anymore. I love you so much, Hee- Heeseung.” You cried as you pushed him away again. “I care so much, but it’s clear that my best just wasn’t enough for you. I’m sure that- that in another life we’d be happy.. but in this one I just don’t think that’s possible.”

“Yn, no. I’ll fix this.. I’ll fix us and I- I’ll change my ways. Just- please.” he trembled. “I wanted- I want to spend my life with you.. I can’t lose you. You can’t leave me. You’re all I’ve ever known.”

“Well that’s not true,” you sobbed. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Baby, why.” he grabbed your hands. “Why don’t you trust me anymore? What do I have to do to get you to trust me again.. I’ll do anything for you. I love you..”

You could see your friends in your peripheral vision watching in concern. Waiting to intervene.

“Can I ask you something?” you stared him in the eye. “I need you to answer honestly.”

“Anything!” he pleaded, tears running down his face. “Ask me anything.”

“Why did you do it time after time?” you watched him deny his acts.

“Sieun told me. You were with Yunjin, Aya, Kate. You even tried it on my Winter and she’s my best friend, Mia, Yeji, Aeri.. I can’t.” The tears fell again.

“None of them compare to you.. Baby, please don’t leave.” he tried getting closer to you. “When I look at you all I see is my soulmate. I care for you still and I will, forever.”

“Well, I look at you… and I see nothing.”

For once, he didn’t even try to fight back.

The rest of the night was a blur.

Sungchan punched him and Winter took you home as you cried for days to come.

You waited by the phone for a text or even a call with an apology but days passed then weeks which turned into months.

There was an odd sense of comfort in knowing that he knew he was in the wrong but all you wanted to do was have him hold you and tell you that everything would be alright.

Yunjin waited for her coffee to be made as she looked down at her phone.

"I.. You know what.. I don't care." you leaned back in your chair.

You didn’t know if she was still dating him, and you didn’t want to.

Chenle gasped.

"Are you being real right now?" He pressed. "This is new territory."

You nodded.

Winter suddenly began to look uncomfortable.

"Coming.. over.. here." she muttered out.

"Yn!" Yunjin screeched. “You’re going to Keeho’s party tonight right?”

“Yeah.. Surprised that you are too, you know.”

She pointed at herself confused.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Keeho.” you pointed.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m someone’s plus one.” she looked away bashfully.

“That’s not a problem.” you shrugged it off. “We’re all there to get wasted anyway.”

She mistook your lack of anger as friendship.

“Well, hope I see you later.” she waved, taking off as her order was called up.

“I don’t.” Chenle groaned.

You looked at the time on your phone.

“Cute lockscreen.” Winter giggled.

It was a picture of you, her, Chenle, Sungchan and Keeho on holiday together.

That was the summer after you and Heeseung broke up.

flashback!-

“It is so hot here.” Winter fanned herself.

“That’s because you’re stood out on the balcony.” Sungchan laughed.

Everyone else lounged around your hotel room.

You were still a mess.

They were trying to distract you from anything and everything and while you appreciated the thought, you just wanted Heeseung back.

Your phone was connected to Keeho’s speaker, blasting some songs that you weren’t paying attention to.

A familiar intro snapped you out of your trance and you immediately reached for your phone.

“No- No, Yn give me that.” Chenle snatched the phone out of your hands.

You’d pressed onto Heeseung’s contact and were in the process of typing out ‘I miss you…’

You remembered what Heeseung told you the first time. “Sincerity is scary by the 1975. Whenever I hear the song, I think of you.” he shrugged. “I guess that’s why it’s my favourite.”

All it took was one song, his favourite song, and you fell back into the rhythm that they were trying to get you out of.

“Come on.” Keeho smiled as he helped you up. “Let’s go out, it’s not every day that you get to be in Hawaii!

Now two years had passed.

You were in the final year of your Bachelor’s degree, with employment lined up for you to work under a United Nations representative as you studied for your Masters.

Winter was going off to Paris to work as a designer for a luxury brand, Chenle was already earning 6 figures as an accountant while studying, Keeho and Sungchan were both planning a gap year before going into business and engineering respectively.

Your best friends, all going their separate ways. You couldn’t bear the thought.

You loved them like no other and having to deal with life’s problems alone didn’t seem too great.

Together you’d created a calendar to show whenever someone was free and had planned several group holidays to come.

Spending winter in Paris with Winter, spring break in the Philippines with Keeho and Sungchan and several mini trips in summer with Chenle.

“Cheers!” Keeho shouted.

“What are we cheering to?” you laughed.

“Us… duh!”

You’d all settled on the conservatory sofa, away from the noise and people at the party.

“We have 5 months left, don’t get sappy.” Sungchan smiled.

“Well if you think about it, it’ll be over in no time.” Winter looked deep in thought. “We’ve been friends for 19 years now and those flew by.”

19 years..

It didn’t take long for you all to realise that you really didn’t have a lot of time left in your bubble.

Having to face the real world without your found family was difficult.

“I don’t want to leave you guys.” Chenle cried into your side as you all hugged each other.

“Please don’t be a stranger guys,” Keeho sobbed. “Weekly group facetime calls, weekend trips..”

“I want postcards.” you wailed. “From your world trip.”

“You’ll all get them.” Sungchan bawled.

“Remember in nursery when- when Chenle started that paint fight and we all got scolded by the teacher.” Winter laughed with a sniffle.

Laughter broke out across the group.

You had the picture on your childhood bedroom wall. The four-year-old versions of yourselves covered head to toe and looking guilty.

Time really does fly by.

“I love you guys.”

The moment was cut short when Jiung stumbled into the room.

“Hey!”

“Not me!”

Chenle dove out of the way and you ended up covered in Jiung’s drink.

“Why does everyone put ice in their drinks!” you wined. “I’m going to steal a shirt, Keeho.”

You left the group as they arranged a ride home for Jiung and looked for a change of clothes in Keeho’s wardrobe.

Slipping a shirt on, you left his room but realised you’d wanted to use the bathroom.

There was another down the hall anyway.

You were in the process of washing your hands when you noticed the song seeping through the gap under the door.

“Sincerity is scary by the 1975.”

But you didn’t have an urge to text him.

The door flung open.

‘Why!’ you groaned.

“Ba- Yn..” he tilted his head. “You look better.”

“Please leave, Heeseung.”

You hated how he looked even better.

“Why are you looking at me like that..” you whined.

You hated how your whole being shut down as soon as you were close to him. The past two years went out of the window.

“Like what?” he whispered.

“You know we can’t..” you trailed off.

He took several steps closer to you and you hesitated to breathe.

“We’re not doing anything.” his eyes were very much focused on your lips.

Winter’s voice rang out in your head.

“Don’t tell the guys.. but if you ever end up in the same place as him, I think you should get closure. It’ll help you move on.”

You let him kiss you.

When he pulled away you brought him back, kissing his lips with a hunger you’d never had before.

He pulled you up by the waist and placed you on the bathroom counter, fingers immediately making their way under your skirt.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“One last time.” you confirmed before kissing him again with even more passion.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” he pulled down your underwear and began to lap at your cunt.

Your hands grasped at his now red hair, as your head fell back against the mirror with a gasp.

He knew you like the back of his hand and you were ashamed to reach your climax so fast as he worked your insides with precision and memory.

“Fuck.. Hee- Heeseung, I’m gonna cum.” you moaned out.

“Cum for me, pretty. You did so well,” he praised as he rubbed your clit.

The nickname and intensity of your orgasm did a number on you.

You felt lightheaded as he kissed you breathlessly before reaching into his pocket to pull out a condom.

‘Thank God, he got the message. One last time.’ you thought. It felt too intimate to let him fuck you raw.

Your fingers made light work of discarding his belt and jeans so you could pull his boxers down teasingly slowly.

“Baby, please..” he whined.

You slid off the counter and onto your knees, immediately taking him into your mouth.

Your muscles moved like clockwork, memory working overtime as you pushed his buttons the way he always loved.

“Not yet..” he whimpered.

He pulled your head off his dick and helped you stand up then bent you over the counter.

You watched in the mirror as he rolled the condom on and then rubbed his length on the slick of your release.

“Heeseung,” you whined as he nudged your clit with his tip.

“All in one?” he asked you.

You nodded.

He sheathed himself into you in one go.

Feeling as though you could cum then and there, you slumped onto the surface in front of you.

Heeseung grabbed your hair and forced you to watch him in the mirror.

Once you made eye contact, you became fully aware of the situation you were in.

You cried out as he slapped your ass before slamming into you from behind.

The moans leaving your lips and whines leaving his would be heard by everyone if the music wasn’t so loud.

He knew exactly what to do and you didn’t even have to tell him what pace to go at, he remembered.

“Hee! Right there.” you cried out. “R- Right there.”

“I’m so close.” he cried. “Shit..”

“Me too.” you held your hand out.

Heeseung grabbed your outstretched hand as you came together.

Silence overcame you both as he threw the condom into the bin and helped clean you up.

He tried to kiss you again.

You looked away.

It was clear that he had just cried but so had you.

The tension and emotion you had for each other was too strong.

“I’m sorry.” he croaked out. “I’m so sorry.”

Your arms pulled him into your embrace.

“It’s okay.”

He pulled back slightly and kissed you again.

This time it was light and if you weren’t paying attention, it would’ve felt as though he was never there.

You wiped his tears away before your own.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like for us, if things were different..?” he asked.

Someone burst into the room.

“You bitch!” Yunjin shouted at you.

It wasn’t hard to assume that you’d just had sex with the smell lingering in the room and the mirror fogged up.

“Huh?” you looked at Heeseung to explain.

“Wait, Yn- ”

You laughed in pain.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You’d just helped him do what broke your heart in the first place.

Instead of sadness or anger you just felt done.

“We were just talking.” you lied.

You weren’t covering for him. You knew that he needed the closure as much as you did but ultimately you were trying to save your own skin.

Yunjin looked furious.

“You can have him.” she seethed. “I should’ve known that he’d never get over you. But I didn’t think that you’d try to get at him.”

“Girl, take him. He’s yours.” you put your hands up, signalling that you were finished with whatever was going on. “I had him in the first place, I don’t want him anymore.”

You felt bad talking about Heeseung like he was an object while he was right in front of you but you pushed that aside.

“No-!” she frowned.

“I don’t want him anyway,” you turned to leave. “Girl take him.”

Yunjin didn’t even try to fight it.

She seemed shocked that you’d given up so easily.

“Heeseung,” you started. “To answer your question, I did. But I learned not to expect much from you.”

Heeseung Lee wasn’t dead, but you no longer cared enough to wish he was.

THE END.

[reiding-writing]

Hi :)

Could I maybe get a two-for-one for your work, Deprivation? Maybe where reader takes Spencer home with them and they do some skin to skin cuddles and he just melts and sleeps for more than a plane ride?

Or if you don’t like that idea, just any continuation of Spencer being so afraid of touch but desperately needing it? I feel that in my soul.

I love your work so much, you’re beyond fantastic!

SALVATION — SPENCER REID!

after spencer gets some rest on the plane ride home, you offer for him to stay the night with you.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.0k | h/c | masterlist.

part one.

event masterlist.

a/n — thank you so much ml, i forgot how much i loved writing stuff like this, spencer needs so many hugs man

Your apartment was warm, a comforting contrast to the sterile jet and the cold night outside.

Spencer seemed out of place at first, standing awkwardly by the door as you set your keys on the table. You could see the fatigue in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the case still clung to him.

“Why don’t you get comfortable?” you suggested gently, motioning toward the couch.

He hesitates, lingering in the doorway like he’s intruding, like he’s unceremoniously encroaching on your space despite the fact that you’d insisted he spend the night at your apartment, insisted that he was going to get a good night’s rest even if it meant not getting one yourself.

It makes him feel bad. Guilty. You should be doing this for him, or feeling like you have to.

“Spencer,” You sigh, “Please,”

He reluctantly relents at the hint of desperation in your tone, toeing off his shoes and sinking into the cushions of your couch. His fingers twitched nervously, his mind still racing even in the quiet.

You brewed tea in the silence, not wanting to push him into talking if he wasn’t ready but wanting to offer him something—something to show that you cared, that you wanted him to feel safe and comfortable with you.

When you came back, you set the mugs on the coffee table, then sat next to him, close, but not impeding on his personal bubble.

The air felt thick with the unsaid, but you waited patiently, letting him come to you in his own time.

After a few minutes of silence echoed only through soft sips from your drinks, Spencer finally spoke, his voice small. “I… I can’t seem to turn my brain off. It’s like, no matter how exhausted I am, I can’t stop thinking about everything. It’s just… always there.”

Your heart ached for him. You could see how much he was carrying, how much he was trying to hold together on his own.

“You don’t have to do that tonight,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to keep holding it all together.”

He looked at you, his eyes glassy with exhaustion and something deeper. Vulnerability. “I don’t know how to… stop.”

You scooted closer, your fingers gently brushing his. “Come here,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “Skin-to-skin contact can help calm your nervous system. Let me hold you for a while,”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

You were really pulling his own moves against him.

And you weren’t even wrong. It would indeed chemically help calm down his nervous system through releasing oxytocin and serotonin, not to mention promoting activity of the oxytocinergic system.

So there was no excuse to not listen to you.

Slowly, cautiously, he allowed you to take his hand and guide him toward you. You both shed your outer layers—he pulled off his sweater, and you slipped out of your own long-sleeved shirt, leaving the soft barrier of your undershirts between you.

You pulled him into your embrace, wrapping your arms around him as he rested his head against your chest, your warmth surrounding him.

At first, Spencer was stiff, as if unsure how to allow himself to relax into you. But gradually, the tension in his body began to melt.

Your hands stroked soothing circles on his back, your heartbeat steady and grounding beneath his cheek. You could feel the way his breathing began to even out, slow and deep, as if the weight of the world was finally starting to lift.

“You’re safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing the top of his head. “It’s okay to rest.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands curling gently into your shirt as he allowed himself to surrender to the comfort you offered.

He pressed closer, his body seeking the warmth and safety that came with your touch, revelling in what he’d lost from you after the plane had landed back in D.C.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his mind began to quiet. The intrusive thoughts that normally plagued him began to fade, replaced by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, the gentle hum of your voice as you whispered reassurances into the dark.

“I’m still so tired,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly as the weight of the admission hit him. “I know I slept on the plane but…”

“I know,” you whispered back, shaking your head softly and holding him tighter. “You don’t have to fight it anymore. Just sleep.”

And for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, Spencer allowed himself to let go. His body melted into yours, his breathing deepening as the exhaustion finally caught up to him.

Within minutes, he was asleep, completely relaxed in your arms.

You held him as he slept, your fingers still running through his hair, your heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. He deserved this—this peace, this comfort—and you would give it to him for as long as he needed.

And as Spencer slept, you could almost see the tension lift from his features, his body finally at ease. He looked peaceful, truly peaceful, in a way you hadn’t seen in far too long.

You stayed there with him, letting him rest, knowing that when he woke up, you’d still be there, ready to hold him again. Ready to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

[itsfuntobeavampiree]

Slashers when their s/o is REALLY touchy.

Contains: Thomas hewitt,brahms heelshire, Billy lenz, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair & Lester sinclair

Thomas hewitt

Tommy adores it when you just wanna latch onto him and never let go but he does have things to do and so do you!

He's always in bed after you so you as soon as he sits on the bed you surprise hug him from behind and he just accepts it lol. You stay like that for a bit before you realise he's actually dosing off.

One time when it was a stressful day and the texas heat was getting to Tommy. You wanted to just smother him with hugs but when you went in for one he snapped and shrugged you off, huffing. I mean you were hurt but you let it go and went back inside , Tommy realised what he had done and went after you and for the rest of the day you were hand in hand

He likes it when at the dinner table your hand finds it way onto his thigh and you look up into his eyes with a smile full of love. He loves you so much!!!!

Brahms heelshire

Well isn't that fantastic because he's also extremely touchy!!

Your going back and fourth, your hands on his hair? Well his hands are on your waist! There is never a moment when you two arent touching

One time you yelled at him for being so childish and he sulked into the walls and didn't come out. You layed in bed hugging a pillow trying to picture it as him but you just couldn't so you gave up. You found yourself walking into the kitchen to find brahms sat at the table eating some toast. "Brahms can you come to bed with me? I can't sleep without you..." you sheepishly said. He stood abruptly and walkedover to you hugging you tightly. You both said sorry and cuddle eachother up in bed. Getting tangled in each other.

So basically what I'm saying is that you two are glued by the hip.

Billy lenz

He appreciates the physical affection. Like EXTREMELY, for example if you pat his shoulder he would cream is pants..... that's how touch starved my man is.

He's pretty aggressive and doesn't realise he's squeezing you instead of just a nice hug. You have to show him the ways and hekk soon get it.

When the sorority girls are out and your the only one left inside the house you listen carefully for the attic to open and a giggly man to appear at your door. He's like a cat,he'll curl up in your lap and lays there while you pet him.

He does unfortunately makes everything sexual, if your on your bed ontop of him he will thrust up into you trying to get some sort of relief.

Bo sinclair

He does tense when he is touched. He just doesn't know when your being genuine. You can understand why he reacts badly to physical touch.

He likes it when he's sitting on the couch and you plant yourself on his lap and start to play with his hair. He leans into you while your doing this.

He's not as touchy so when you start climbing all over him he does get frustrated. He's his own person and needs space too.

But at night he does enjoy being the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you and chuckling to himself when he feels you fidgeting with his hands. He just can't deny your cuteness.

Vincent sinclair

Similar to his brother. He needs space especially when he's working. He doesn't want hot wax to spill onto his partners soft delicate skin! But when he isn't doing anything he's busy holding your hand and letting you drag him along.

When you can't help yourself and just want to stick to him while he's working he does allow it only if your behind him. He does shrug you off when he's got to focus on something or when your getting too touchy.

I mean hes a bit brain dead, he doesn't know what's the difference between just wanting a hug and wanting to do more than that but when your hands start pressing against certain parts of his body he starts to catch on and drops everything.

He won't really admit it but he really enjoys being little spoon he likes it when you press yourself against him and sit your head on top of his. Plus it's a bonus for you! Because he can't escape your grasp at night and go over work himself.

Lester sinclair

Bros a pretty princess, he loves your hands on him. When he's luring talking to some city folks your next to him holding his hand tightly, hiding yourself into his side.

You and Jonesy shower this handsome boy with kisses and you continue doing this for the rest of day.

He doesn't like it when your near the roadkill pit. He doesn't want you slipping and going in!

At night he lovessss cuddles, he likes digging his face into your chest. Ofc jonesy is included x

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pls request! I do appreciate it and it gives me a challenge:)

[tan1shere]

Freaky Deaky

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I got this idea when this song popped up on my Spotify the other day. I hadn't listened to it in soooo long but omg this idea SPRUNG into my brain - this is inspired a bit by the music video so if you haven't seen it go watch it !!! And lastly enjoy 🥰

Summary: she wasn't use to this from you. But on valentines day, you decide to let that side of you show.

Warnings: smut ! Daddy kink yall 😋 reader is super girly, and many more kinky surprises 😈

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu

Masterlist

"I've been feeling freaky deaky."

"You're on your way to see me."

14th of February. The day of love. Some is passionate, sweet, loving. And some is freaky, which is what tonight was for the both of you. You only got the courage to do this when she asked you to be her valentine. The usual flowers, chocolates and a sign. But, there was a small bag. You look inside to be faced with some lingerie. It was pink. Your favorite color. Not just any pink, a hot pink. The sexy kind of pink. It impelled you to be a bit more confident and open with her. You've had sex, sure. Countless times. But you haven't been dating for long, so ofcourse there were kinks and fantasies neither of you knew about. That changes, tonight.

You had been laying on your bed, the pink fluffy sheets felt great on your skin. You were about to get up and get ready for your night with Billie when you get a text from her.

Bills💗

- "I'll be there in 25 baby."

- "Awesome can't wait ;)☺"

- "Me too mama.😈💋"

A smile spreads across your face, rolling over on your bed with a giggle. You adored the way she made you feel, forever giggly. You never really showed that side of yourself from past experiences but she brings a comfort, a safeness no one in your life has ever brought for you before. So, you can be your true selfaround her. You go to your vanity picking out the right makeup, moving onto your hair. You put it up in a cute messy but styled bun. "Cute." You say softly to yourself, messing with a few strands on the sides. Getting up and heading to your closet to pick out this satin pink robe, putting that over the lingerie Billie had gotten you.

The pink lace hugged your body just right, and she was very excited to see you in it. It'd be a lie if she said she wasn't dreaming of how you'd look in it. Shes finally getting to live that dream, and many more. You spray some nice smelling purfume on from Victoria secret, sealing the whole look. Feeling amazing. You hear a knock on the door going to open it, looking at her with a grin. Her eyes wander, going over your tits, sitting pretty in that bra. So perfectly. Your waist, hips. The see-through satin robe hid hardly anything. So she was looking. Loud and proud.

You invite her in, letting your hips sway as you go over to your bed. "The lingerie fits nicely, thank you for getting it for me." You say to her sweetly. So sweetly infact you hear her gulp. "It fits you very. Well." She joins you on the bed. "I got you a little something. Two little somethings." Her head shakes. "I told you I'm fine baby it's ok, I don't need anything." You move to grab it. "Too late. Open open!" You say handing her the pretty bag it comes in. She peeks inside seeing a strap and dildo both pink to match with everything. She looks at you, but you nod your head for her to look at the other thing.

It was these two chunky rings she had been after, you just had to get them for her. "Mama." She says looking at you. "Those were incredibly expensive, I would've gotten them." You just shake your head. "You've been so good to me I really wanted to return the favor." Your eyes were soft and genuine. "God I'm gunna fucking ravish you tonight." She growls, not standing anymore of the distance between the two of you. Her hands reach out, grabbing your face and kissing you with such lust. She slowly pushes you back on the bed hovering over you.

Her hands fiddle with the silky strings on your robe, getting it to come undone and take it off. You go to take the rest off but she stops you. One of her fantasies was to fuck you while you had something sexy like this on. She was adamant on fulfilling that. "Keep it on.." She trails off as if she wasn't done with her sentence. Her hand moves to the bottom of your underwear, snapping back a part near the crotch. You gasp as cool air hits you, biting your lip. You had no idea it had an opening. Your eyes look to her, she's just smirking. "I have things all planned baby, don't you worry." You blush, not that it was noticeable with the amount you dabbed on.

She reaches for the strap, the band being sparkly and pink, the dido being a lighter shade of that. She takes her shirt and pants off, grabbing the harness and then attaching it to herself. You watch Intently, deeply intrigued as she always just had it on whenever the two of you fucked. She notices this, slowing her movements. Almost as if she was giving you a little show. She lines up, observing how noticeably wet you were. Just for her, because of her. She was proud. Her fingers touch the skin of your pussy. Feeling the wetness. She gathers some, bringing it away and straight to her mouth. She moans at the taste, making your breath hitch.

The tip prods at your entrance, causing light moans to fill the room, whimpers. She soaks it up, repeats it in her own brain at how beautiful you sounded. She slowly sinks into you, nearly bottoming out but you grab her bicep. She kisses your head, letting you know she's right there. "Good girl, you got it." Her kisses move to your cheek. "Pretty girl, so good for me." The praise was going straight to your head. Causing your eyes to shut as the pleasure builds up. She begins to move slowly. But even at that pace it provoked your eyes to roll back, biting your candy pink lip once again. Her kisses move down to your neck, sucking hard. Marking you up. Her hands rest beside your head as she speeds up.

You move your head, opening your eyes and looking up in the mirror. Her back muscles flexing. Making your head spin as she hits the perfect spots.

Got the mirror on the ceiling...

You're in the mood to please me...

"Going to break your back." She snarls into your neck, far deep into her lust. Adoring how you'd arch into her thrusts. You moan into her ear. "P-please." She chuckles. "You want that? Want me to break your back?" You didn't even know this yet as she hadn't told you but it slips out past your lips. "Yes daddy, fuck!" Her eyes grow darker, needing to make sure she heard you correctly. "Say that again?" Then you panic, did she not like it? "I- uhm-" Her gentle hand makes contact with your jaw. "What'd you call me?" Her hips snap harshly, making your eyes yet again roll back. "Daddy!" You moan, loudly. "Fuck." She breathes. That was the thing she'd touch herself thinking about. And to actually hear it.

From the rightful source made her want to cum right then and there. "You drive me insane baby." Her tongue runs along your neck, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver

I get so infatuated and erotic with you.

Her thrusts become relentless making it impossible for you to hold on. "Mmm, please. I'm so close." She doesn't falter. "Yeah? Go on then, want a reminder of tonight. Never going to wash this one. Wanna keep it locked away for safe keeping." She was truly feral for you and it sent you off the rails. "Bills fuck!" You screech as you cum hard all over her, feeling your legs shake. Just from seeing that, hearing and feeling everything. It makes her close. The fact she could make you feel such pleasure makes her feel powerful. Wanting to protect you. She grunts feeling the base hit her perfectly. "Fuck you have no idea what you do to me."

She says, listening carefully to your moans. And within seconds she's now cumming, it leaking out, slightly onto you aswel. Your breaths were heavy together, calming down from such an intense round of pleasure.

Abd that was just the first of many. Many rounds that night.