#that’s it i was just tired of it and it was big enough so i ended it here

[teaboot]

Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?

My earliest memory of what I would call self-awareness occurred spontaneously in the middle of my fourth birthday party, where I suddenly became alert to my existence as a separate entity surrounded by other conscious beings.

This presented to me as not dissimilar to simply being brushed along the flow of a river- experiencing life as a serious of flashbang moments and instants and sensations, like meditating to music until the individual notes break into sounds that follow no rhythm and are only noise- no past or future, only now- and then suddenly finding yourself holding a paddle in the belly of a boat with no idea what to do next.

I remember running to the body that felt safest, who I did not recognize as anything else, and asking it who all the strangers around us were. The person that I learned was my mother told me they were my aunties and uncles, and I was being silly because I KNEW them, and why was I so shy all of a sudden?

Learning to articulate myself after that instant, I remember, was immensely frustrating. Learning your first language, as I remember it, is wuite a bit like how Ive been told recovering from brain damage feels like.

YOU know what you mean. YOU know what you're saying. But there are holes where you reach for something you know MUST be there and find nothing, and must find a way to communicate using only what you have at hand. Except there are always faces looking at you, talking down to you, asking you to do tricks for them to prove you really are a real human person.

I loved art, and I'm very good at it, but GETTING good at it was the worst. I'm told I started with scribbles at six months or so, before I could walk, and at three and four I remember being immensely frustrated that I could see in my head exactly what I wanted to produce, and I didn't know how to PRODUCE it.

And simple shit, like drawing shapes and circles, developing fine motor skills. You FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT, but your hands are soft and wobbly and don't cooperate. Getting your mouth and body to obey your directions is hellish, especially when all the appliances and furniture and installations around you are built for someone easily triple your size.

Chairs are hard to sit in when you're small and cant touch the ground. Your legs dangle and you cant scoot closer to the table, and the backrest is so far back you cant use it for support, and the table comes up past your chest so your chin is amost in your plate and your dumb clumsy hands cant hold a big spoon or fork in a way that feels natural or elegant so you end up smearing shit EVERYWHERE and getting yapped at for having your elbows on the counter.

Reading people was interesting. Most people are condescending and plastic when you're small, and you can tell when they're being saccharine and fake, but you're told the polite thing is to believe what they say and be polite back. I used to try using big sentences on purpose just to het them to leave me alone. "What a pretty girl! Can you say Hello?" was the most common ask I can recall. Id answer with the floweriest thing I could think of, usually, "I'm very well, thank you for asking, how are you?", because people only ask you interesting questions after you do well enough on their tests to prove you're people.

Being small was very tiring, and very frustrating, and becoming aware of myself in my own head probably made everything a lot worse overall.

No regrets, though. From what I can recall, life is far more enjoyable when you're aware of it occurring. Time can't slow down until you know it's there, I think

Being a baby full of instincts felt like living as a live grenade. Being a child was far harder, but more Full. More Human. A LOT more like adulthood than infancy, and I was very determined to remember that.

If any of that makes sense

[melminli]

Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-choel as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that since I don't even have anything against working a bit of overtime when it comes to this.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

[saltyowlets]

I am the type to analyze and comb details in games, read on the dialogue, and make inferences on what characters are like as i play a game. I did that constantly playing Inquisition and that helped playing such a huge game seem so fun. There are multitude of themes in that game that are so fun to gnaw at and your game play can differ depending on your race, if you let yourself immerse in it.

Then there's Veilguard. See, I initially did the same thing. Comb every area, read into the dialogue and quests, hoping that I would get something substantial to bite like I did with DAI. By the end of Act 1, I realized that there was nothing to chew on.

Everything became predictable, the characters acted as I imagined. There was no nuance to any of the factions. It made me so tired to play through the game and not be rewarded for my diligence. I even nearly 100% the game because there wasn't anything rewarding so I had to find some other way to do so. I didn't even enjoy it, it felt so slow and inefficient. I enjoyed DAI's quests as it doesn't force you to complete them but let's you explore and discover at your pace. I didn't 100% it, not because I didn't want to but because I wanted to discover more when I replay it.

I do not feel like replaying DAV. I can try to convince myself to play a different Rook for the romances and maybe explore different factions, but I know my gameplay will be the same, the outcome won't be any different. None of my choices make a big impact in the game, besides the Minrathus vs Treviso one.

It's crazy cause a common critique of DAI is that choices don't matter but that's not entirely true. Your choices in DAI affect the world state. Who would choose in the War Table missions impact other missions and rewards. Your trials can change public sentiment. The order of the missions you can complete make minor differences in how NPCs interact with you.

DAV just doesn't not have that. I do not feel like what I do matters in the short or long run. I felt like I was pushing myself to finish the game. Im also big on character and game narrative, it was the biggest motivator to finish the game. But in the end, I did not feel satisfactory.

Battle mechanics were fun and the fights were straightforward but that's not enough for me in a game. I can deal with bad gameplay as long as I am given a story I can invest in, a world I can explore.

And sadly, that is far from what DAV is.

it’s interesting how many people, including myself, share the similar sentiment that veilguard is actually incredibly fun while playing, and its the process of thinking back on it after finishing where it begins to fall apart and the holes begin to show… i think it’s especially interesting because at least for me, the other dragon age games are the opposite. i hate playing inquisition, but when i sit and look back on it i cannot help but admire how brilliant the writing and characters are. dragon age 2 can be a slog by act 3 but when i finish and think back on how the story unfolded i know in my heart that it was a masterpiece. i got bored or frustrated while playing them but these games stuck around in my head after finishing them for the first time not just for days or weeks but for years.

veilguard lacks this. i had A LOT of fun playing the game. i love the gameplay loop. i like the puzzles. i love the environments. it was probably the easiest dragon age game to blast through 60 hours of. but then the credits roll and instead of analyzing character arcs and deconstructing banter, im stuck on all the plot holes and missed opportunities.

veilguard gets worse the longer i let it marinate in my brain, rather than better. each rotisserie turn of the story over in my head reveals more and more nothingness - or just clumsy attempts at misdirection so i don’t think too hard about what’s missing. the dragon age games have always been an olympic sized swimming pool that you can dive headfirst into if you want, and you will be rewarded with a corresponding amount of depth. veilguard is one of those kiddie pools at a water park with slides and fountains and a water-based jungle gym on top - it’s fun on the surface and packed with things to do. but if you attempt to dive? you’ll crack your head open.

[pastryfication]

Could you write a Lando or Oscar fic where the reader is on her period and accidentally bleeds through onto his sheets (cuz it’s his apartment) and only finds out when she wakes up w bad cramps in the middle of the night and then proceeds to try and fix it without them knowing but the driver wakes up in the middle of their struggle?

i’m always looking out, oscar piastri

warnings: mentions of menstruation

note: writing this to manifest my period coming soon 🙏 (it’s a week late and i’m kinda panicking…)

your mind was instantly in panic mode the moment you awoke to a sticky feeling between your legs. this was your worst nightmare. it could not be happening. it just couldn’t be happening.

lifting the sheets a bit, you almost cried when you spotted to big red splotch on your boyfriend’s sheets. as carefully as possible, you pried away the duvet completely and swung your legs over the side. the movement was surprisingly smooth, but the moment you stilled, a painful cramp moved through your body and you had to bite you lip harshly to prevent yourself from whimpering out loud.

taking a moment to collect yourself, you took a deep breath before standing. your whole body was screaming for you to lay down again and curl into a ball until the pain subsided, but you couldn’t. you needed to fix this first.

you took tentative steps towards the bathroom, taking a pair of clean pants with you so you could clean up yourself first. every step felt like a thousand shapes knives stabbing your uterus, and as you lowered yourself to sit on the toilet, you almost sighed out loud from the relief.

you had no idea how you were gonna get the sheets clean without waking oscar, but you were determined to try. he had been so tired since the season ended, and you wanted nothing more than to give him the peaceful sleep he deserved without interrupting him with your problems.

quietly slipping from the bathroom, through the bedroom where your boyfriend was still sleeping peacefully, completely obvious to your current panic, you made your way to the kitchen. you knew he kept his detergent under the kitchen sink, so you tiptoed over there, very careful as you opened the cupboard.

you dropped to your knees, your stomach aching painfully as you did so, to look for the right one, but the dark made it hard to see what you were doing, and in your quiet haste, you accidentally knocked one over, causing all the hidden away soap to clash together.

immediately stilling, your eyes flew up to carefully observe the doorway. your heart was beating out of your chest, your cheeks blooming red from the thought of being caught alone. for ten seconds you waited, but when no sounds were heard from the bedroom, you let out a breath of relief and got to your feet with the white cloth detergent clutched tightly in your hands. you couldn’t put the sheets in the washer, not when oscar was laying on them, but you could try to remove the spot as good as possible before he woke up, and then wash them properly in the morning when he was out for his daily run.

it was a fool proof plan, one that could hardly go wrong, but as you opened the door to his bedroom once again and was met with the light on and your boyfriend tiredly—but with obvious concern—missing with his eyes up at you, you almost broke down. his gaze held so much tenderness and when he said your name, his voice was filled with so much love that your knees almost gave out.

“what are you doing up, baby?” his voice was scratchy from sleep as he tried to survey the situation.

“i— uhm— i was just—“ you tried to find the words, but you were too tired, too groggy and in too much pain to come up with a lie.

“and why are you carrying laundry detergent? what’s happened, honey?” he was on his feet surprisingly quick, considering how tired he looked, but the look of fatigue on your face was enough to alarm him.

“i— i was just—“ you looked helplessly at your abandoned spot in his bed and he followed your eyes.

“did you drop something on the sheets? you know i don’t care, right?” he moved to your side to check the sheets, and the moment he spotted the red splotch, his face fell. you stood nailed to the ground, a feeling of horror filling your body as you watched him.

“oh, baby,” his voice dropped with sweetness and he was by your side in two long strides. “why didn’t you wake me?”

his hands went to your shoulders, holding you so carefully that you couldn’t keep yourself together anymore. “i don’t know.” your voice cracked and tears gathered in your eyes, the last 20 minutes finally catching up to you. “i guess i just— i mean it’s your bed! and i’m so embarrassed… but it just hurts so bad! i’m sorry, osc. i’m so sorry, i ruined your sheets, and your sleep, and—“

“woah, baby, calm down.” he stopped your nervous rambling with a gentle hand to your cheek. “we’ll figure this out, okay?”

you nodded as he led you out of the bedroom and into the guest room next door, where a clean bed was waiting. “have you put on clean pants? or should i find you some? and a pad?” he was so eager to help that you couldn’t help but smile.

“no, i already changed,” you mumbled, looking down your hands as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“alright, perfect.” he smiled softly as he stood himself directly in front of you. “now, let’s get you back in bed and i’ll get you some painkillers and a heating pad, yeah? and then i’ll figure out the sheets.”

your head shot up, meeting his tender gaze as you tried to protest. “no, osc, you don’t have to do that. it’s my mess, you shouldn’t have to—“

“stop.” he cut you off. “i don’t care that you woke me. i want you to wake me every time you need help, okay, love? because i love you. i love you so much, and i hate seeing you in distress, so i want to help you all that i can. i don’t care if it’s 2 in the morning or in the middle of the day. i want to help, okay?”

tears gathered in your eyes at his words and you couldn’t do anything but nod in reply. “i love you so much. you’re too good to me.”

“no. you deserve the world, baby. nothing is too good for you.” he leaned down to press a warm kiss to your lips, and you smiled as he pulled back and helped you get comfortable in his guest bed.

“i’ll come join you in just a minute,” he promised as he softly padded out the room, and you sighed contentedly and snuggled into the soft duvet. oscar’s words echoed in your mind, and as you fell asleep, a soft smile was gracing your lips.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

snowflakes, sweaters, and soft whispers

james potter x reader who's insecure about her post pregnancy fat

↬ word count : 803 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : mentions of post-pregnancy body image struggles, mild angst, lots of fluff ♡

↬ author's note : hi starshines 🤎i wanted to start 2025 on a comforting note, so here it is. remember, you are so loved and enough just as you are. take care of yourselves, okay?

navigation┆james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

The fireplace crackled softly in the Potter living room, its warm light casting a golden glow across the cozy space. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, your knees pulled to your chest. The sound of Harry’s baby gurgles came faintly from upstairs, where he had finally drifted off to sleep after a long day of teething woes.

But despite the peace of the moment, your heart was anything but calm.

You glanced down at yourself, your oversized sweater bunching awkwardly around your middle. You tugged at the fabric, trying to make it lie flat, but it only seemed to emphasize what you had been avoiding all day. The baby weight you’d gained during pregnancy still clung to your frame, and no matter how many reassurances you received, it was hard not to feel... different.

Less you. Less attractive.

The sound of the front door opening and closing made you straighten slightly. James’s cheerful whistle carried through the hallway before he stepped into the room, shaking snow off his jacket. His unruly hair was dusted with flakes, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He grinned the moment he saw you.

“Love, you’ll never believe the snow outside! It’s like someone let Santa loose with a charm.”

You offered him a small smile but didn’t say much. James paused, his sharp hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your hunched posture and the distant look in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently, setting his things down and coming to sit beside you. His hand found yours immediately, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin.

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, looking away. But James Potter wasn’t one to be fooled so easily.

“Liar,” he said softly, his tone teasing but warm. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. James waited patiently, his gaze unwavering. Finally, the words spilled out before you could stop them.

“I just...” You exhaled shakily. “I don’t feel like myself anymore, James. I feel... big, and tired, and not at all like the person you fell in love with. It’s like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore. I mean, look at me.”

Your voice broke on the last word, and you tried to pull your hand away, but James held on, his grip firm but gentle. His expression softened, his eyes filling with something that made your chest ache—love, pure and unshakable.

“Look at you?” he repeated, his voice low. “Alright, let’s look at you.”

He shifted so he was kneeling in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. He gazed up at you with such intensity that it made your breath hitch.

“I see the woman who carried our son for nine months,” he began, his voice steady and full of conviction. “The woman who endured sleepless nights, backaches, and cravings that sent me halfway across the country for treacle tart at three in the morning.”

You couldn’t help but let out a watery laugh at that, and James smiled, his thumbs stroking your skin.

“I see the woman who gave birth to the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “The woman who loves him so fiercely, who stays up with him when he’s fussy, who sings to him even when she’s exhausted. And I see the woman I’ve loved every single day since I first laid eyes on her.”

Tears blurred your vision, and James reached up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the drops that spilled onto your cheeks.

“You are beautiful, angel,” he whispered. “Every curve, every mark, every single part of you. And if you can’t see it right now, that’s okay. I’ll remind you every day until you do.”

A sob escaped your lips, and James pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. His hand cradled the back of your head as you buried your face in his shoulder, his scent grounding you.

“You’re more than enough, love,” he murmured into your hair. “Always.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, his steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm against your ear. Slowly, the knot of insecurity in your chest began to loosen, replaced by the steady assurance of James’s love.

When you finally pulled back, James pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before tilting his head with a mischievous grin.

“Besides,” he said, his tone light and teasing, “you know I’m utterly weak for you in oversized sweaters. It’s a wonder I survive every winter.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest. “Prat.”

“Your prat,” he said smugly, leaning in to kiss you, and for the first time in days, you let yourself believe it.

You were enough. And you were loved.

[ivyues]

First-Night-Nerves and Quite Moments: Stray Kids' reactions to first sleepovers

Bang Chan

Chris arrived at your place after a tiring recording session but smiled when he greeted you. "You look dead on your feet," you teased, pulling him inside.

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. "I didn’t want to miss seeing you."

As the night went on, you could see his exhaustion growing. "Why don’t you just stay over? You can't drive home like this." He hesitated for a moment before responding, "Only if you're okay with it."

He offered to sleep on the couch, but you insisted that you share the bed. After a few more moments of uncertainty, he finally agreed, lying down beside you but keeping a respectful distance. He stayed rigid, his heart raced every time he heard you shift.

Finally, you whispered, "Channie, are you uncomfortable?"

He sighed softly. "I don’t want to overstep or make you uncomfortable." Smiling, you gently nudged his arm. "You’re not. Relax."

After a long pause, he put an arm around you, his voice barely a whisper. "Is this okay?" You nodded, leaning into him. "Much better."

Lee Know

Lee Know had suggested the sleepover a few days earlier, jokingly adding, "Bring snacks, though. And make sure they're the good kind."

The evening was full of both of your playful banter, but when it came time to settle in, he was oddly quiet. He flopped onto the bed first, leaving ample space for you. He mumbled a quick, "Goodnight," avoiding eye contact.

After a few moments, you shifted in bed, pulling the blanked tighter around yourself. 

"You cold?" he asked quietly.

When you nodded, he threw an arm over you, mumbling, "Don't hog the blanket though." His tone was playful, but you could tell he was still a bit nervous, as if trying to seem nonchalant.

You smiled to yourself in the dark, knowing he was more anxious than he let on.

Changbin

When Changbin invited you over, his casual attitude almost masked the amount of thought he’d put into it. His place was spotless, a soft playlist playing in the background, and the bed piled high with pillows.

"You didn't have to go all out," you teased, settling on his freshly fluffed couch.

He laughed nervously. "It's nothing. Just wanted it to be nice."

As the night wore on, he seemed to become more fidgety, checking everything multiple times. "Pillow good? Too much blanket? Too little blanket?"

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Everything’s perfect, Binnie. Let's just sleep."

When you settled in bed, Changbin stayed awake for a while, marveling at how surreal it felt to have you there beside him. It was a quiet, content moment, and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin suggested the sleepover during a late-night call, his voice laced with excitement. "We could paint, watch a movie, just hang out."

When you arrived, the room was already set up – soft fairy lights glowing and paints neatly arranged. The evening felt like something out of a dream, filled with laughter and gentle kisses as you painted side by side.

When it was time to sleep, Hyunjin grew quiet, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I... uh... set up the bed for us," he said, his voice soft.

You smiled and took his hand, guiding him to lie down beside you. He laid awake for a while, stealing nervous glances at you, overwhelmed by how lucky he felt to have you there. It felt like something so special and intimate, yet so natural.

Han

Han had come over for an anime night, and after binging a whole series, it was well past midnight. You casually suggested him to stay.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah, it’s late. I don’t want you going back."

He agreed, but the nervous energy practically radiated off him. "So, uh... where do you want me to sleep?" he asked, glancing between the couch and your bedroom door.

"The bed’s big enough for both of us. It’s no big deal." You said softly.

His eyes widened, and he nodded. "Right. Totally normal."

Once in bed, he lay stiffly, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes, he whispered, "Thanks for letting me stay. I feared it might be... weird."

You smiled, turning to face him. "You’re overthinking it, Hannie. Just relax."

His nervous laugh was soft, and eventually, his body relaxed. By the time you fell asleep, he was already snoring lightly, a peaceful smile on his lips.

Felix

Felix had shyly suggested the sleepover after you both talked about wanting to spend more time together. "Only if you’re comfortable, of course," he’d said, his voice soft. "I’ll make pancakes in the morning."

When the night arrived, he welcomed you with a warm hug and a beaming smile. The evening was filled with cookie baking and watching your favorite movies.

Later, as you cautiously laid in bed next to each other, he hesitated before asking, "Is it okay if I...?" His hand hovered near yours, waiting for you to take it.

You smiled and nodded, and he gently wrapped his fingers around yours. As you drifted off to sleep, he stayed awake for a while, his heart full and his cheeks glowing with happiness.

Seungmin

The evening you agreed on staying over, Seungmin’s room was immaculate, every detail carefully thought out. He handed you an extra pillow with a smile. "Just let me know if you need anything."

As the night went on, his calm demeanor started to falter. When it came time to lie down, he placed a noticeable gap between you.

"You don’t have to stay all the way over there," you teased.

His ears turned bright red, but he slowly moved closer. Over time, the initial awkwardness faded, and he found himself relaxing in your presence.

By morning, you woke to find his hand resting just inches from yours, a quiet but undeniable sign of his affection.

I.N

Jeongin had been thrilled about the sleepover, texting you excitedly about movies, snacks, and possibly even a pillow fight.

When you arrived, he greeted you with an eager grin, his energy infectious. The night was filled with laughter as you watched old comedies and built a blanket fort together.

During a snack pause, Jeongin suddenly stood up and headed toward his closet.

"Here," he said, pulling out one of his favorite hoodies. He tossed it over to you, a little shy but still smiling. "You can wear it while we watch the next movie."

When it was time to sleep, Jeongin grew quieter, his confidence replaced by a shy smile. "I hope the bed’s okay," he said softly, glancing at you.

masterlist

[skiagraphe0]

The fact that Tiana knows Facilier as 'the Shadowman' and says it like a title when Naveen first tells her about having met him tells me that Facilier has a reputation. I think, at some point, he was successful, and probably had a decent level of income. You have to be pretty prominent as a criminal for people who don't follow crime to know your name, and you have to be a very prominent psychic/fortune teller for people who don't mess with that to know you. The only IRL psychic I can name off the top of my head is one who scammed thousands of people.

Facilier is black. (Mixed race, probably; purple eyes and a French surname hint at that.) The world was not kind to him given the era. I think at some point he, like Tiana, had doors slammed in his face due to his race. He may have tried honest work, but that honest work didn't get him anywhere. The game of life was rigged against him. And so the thought occurred to him: it's not wrong to cheat if your opponent is cheating, too.

That he managed to bungle his profits badly enough to end up this deep in debt makes him more human than most Disney villains. Facilier has a spending problem. It's the only way for him to simultaneously be this well known and also this broke.

He responded to the world kicking him while he was down by going, "Hard work hardly works. Fine. Let's see what other options there are." It's not that he never tried. You don't get that bitter without trying and failing, and you don't get at big as he is without some talent and charisma. Whatever he tried, it didn't fail on its' own merits, or he wouldn't ask Lawrence, "Aren't you tired of living on the margins while all those fat cats in their fancy suits don't give you so much as a sideways glance?" That screams 'wealthy white people screwed me over/didn't give me a chance'. As does the seething look he gives Big Daddy when he sees him initially.

When he briefly traps Tiana in an illusion, he does two things that make me think he did actually try hard in the past. He compliments her work ethic, and it doesn't sound like sarcasm. Then he points out to her that her father's work ethic, which he also compliments, didn't work.

The closest he ever comes to victory isn't done with deceit. It's just done with the blunt, awful truth: for a lot of people, hard work hardly works. He didn't have long to pick an illusion to construct or go with. He went with this because it resonated with him, personally. It seemed like the best option because it made sense to him on a personal level as an argument. He didn't put her or her father down as foolish for working hard or argue with her that it was dumb. If anything, he sounds like he admires Tiana's dad for being both hardworking and a good family man.

His argument was simply that it wouldn't be successful to keep working hard in a world that has never rewarded that as a virtue.

He's speaking from experience.

You know what’s great about Dr. Facilier?

He’s the perfect villain opposite both Tiana and Naveen.

He’s not exactly like Jafar or Ursula, who know they’re evil and delight in it as like, a lifestyle. He’s more like Scar. He’s introduced getting money on the street through cons and feeling satisfied…until Big Daddy LeBouf drives by with all his money and makes him feel insignificant.

You get the idea that something in life made him this way—there was a beginning to his villainy. You don’t get that sense from like, Clayton or Gaston.

So he’s a relatable character with flaws, to an extent.

But those flaws specifically play off of Tiana and Naveen’s characterizations.

Tiana has no real respect from her peers—she is in a position to be jealous of Lottie the same way Facilier is jealous of the Cotton King. But where Tiana simply works hard and refuses to let others make her bitter, Facilier has clearly taken shortcuts. Or…”the easy way.”

Then there’s Naveen.

Naveen has no thought beyond the present; he thinks they’re “on this earth to have some fun,” and frequently jumps without looking at the consequences. Leaps without looking! Doesn’t stop to find out if the girl he’s kissing is a real princess even though he knew his original invitation was to a costume party, forgets that he’s supposed to be getting married and plans on continuing his playboy lifestyle, wanders into a shadow-man’s shop. But eventually he learns to open his eyes to what’s important, and what will last, in Tiana. And he takes that seriously; if he marries her instead of Charlotte, he has to get three jobs.

Facilier, on the other hand? He not only does the opposite of Tiana and has taken shortcuts to get where he is—but he also suffers from Naveen’s flaw; he keeps making what are basically get-rich-quick schemes with his “friends on the other side.” When we meet him, he’s stressed and certainly on edge about failing—but that doesn’t stop him from asking for more and more debt from the demons, and he basically goes to his grave still making promises he can’t keep…like Naveen’s promise he couldn’t keep to pay Tiana for kissing him.

He’s got Tiana’s focus and Naveen’s charisma. He’s got Tiana’s lofty goals and Naveen’s dependence on others to do his dirty work.

He’s exactly like Tiana and Naveen put together, aged about twenty years, but with none of their good qualities. Perfect villain for those two main characters.

But he’s also the opposite of Mama Odie.

He entices innocents with what they want while she lights their way by explaining what they need.

He wants total control, while she’s satisfied with simply giving advice and sending people on their way.

He directly transforms his victims, while Mama Odie shows Tiana and Naveen how to work toward their transformation on their own. I mean, you guys noticed that she could have done it for them, right?

But she doesn’t, because she’s the symbol of that Disney Faith-Based morals: you act on what you know is true instead of taking the easy way to what you want. Facilier does the opposite: he promises to give you the easy way to what you want, and tries to tell you why you should accept his deals—but his reasons are all lies.

That’s how you write a villain, ladies and gentlemen.

[palmerzy]

hi! i've never done an ask before so i hope this is alright!!! i've been loving reading all of your posts so far, you're such an amazing writer :) i was hoping/wondering if you could write something about spencer reid crying during sex, always, either cause hes so desperate or so horny or so everything,, thanks :)!

hi anon!! hope this is okay :)

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes including dacryphilia.

spencer is a notorious crier when it comes to his intimate moments with you, and it’s a known fact by now. you were more than concerned the first time it happened, when he sheathed himself within you and let a few trickles slip down his cheeks from how intensely good it felt to have his needs satisfied.

he assured you that he was okay, that he was more than okay, that he’d never felt such an intense connection to something in his life. “just feels so good,” “been needing this all day,” “so warm, so good, so good,” he’d whimpered over and over that day, burying his face into your neck, dampening your skin with his tears.

eventually you got used to it, and now it’s a pretty common occurrence. the first time you ever denied him an orgasm, spencer was a crying mess, big brown eyes glossy with tears of desperation as he shook his head rapidly, questioning why you’d do that to him (yet, of course, he soon realised he loved it).

there have been times where he’s come to your apartment, wanting to spend time with you, but you’re busy emailing hotch about cases or going over some evidence. he’d been sat on your couch, looking over at you, bouncing his leg impatiently until eventually he had to speak up, tears in his eyes, letting you know that he was feeling a little ignored and needy.

one thing lead to another, and you were riding him on the couch, wiping away his tears with your thumbs as the both of you forgot where his sobs ended and his moans began. his gaze was strictly on the space between you, whining and biting his lip at the sight of his cock disappearing into your depths.

sometimes, significantly late at night when he’s tired after a long day at work, the feeling of being inside of you is enough to have his puppy dog eyes swarming with tears, comforted by the clench of your body around his.

he always feels like he just needs to come in you or with you, and if he doesn’t, he’s upset. occasionally, if he’s come before you, he’s a mess; tears streaming down his face as he profusely apologises, continuing to fuck you through the overstimulation purely because he needs you to come too, he’s so desperate to feel it, no matter what.

overall, spencer reid isn’t immune to crying, and definitely not when he’s having sex. he feels vulnerable and comfortable enough with you to let it happen, knowing he’ll never be judged or ostracised, if anything - encouraged.

[margeoww]

Strong Enough for You

back to my masterlist

pairing: percy jackson x gf!reader

summary: being in a relationship with Percy Jackson means adventure, danger, and plenty of moments to admire his heroism. But what you love most? His quiet moments of vulnerability—and, of course, those arms that could rival the gods themselves.

a/n: okay guys, just look at him. I just wanted to write something related to this wonderful pic.

It wasn’t a secret, not really. Everyone at Camp Half-Blood had noticed Percy’s physical transformation over the years—his strength wasn’t just in his bravery or his loyalty; it was evident in the way he moved, the way he carried himself. And you? Well, you had front-row seats to it all.

Sitting on the steps of the Big House one sunny afternoon, you watched Percy from a distance as he helped the younger campers set up for capture the flag. His orange camp shirt clung to his shoulders, and his biceps flexed as he effortlessly lifted a heavy crate of shields.

—Are you even listening to me? —Annabeth’s voice broke through your daydream.

You blinked, turning to your best friend, who was smirking knowingly. —What?

Annabeth crossed her arms. —I was saying that Percy’s been showing off a little more lately. And judging by the way you’re staring, I think I know why.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. —I wasn’t staring.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. —Sure, you weren’t. Look, you’ve been together for a year now. He’s obviously just as smitten with you as you are with him. Maybe it’s time to tell him how much you appreciate his hard work.

Later that evening, you found Percy by the campfire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a stick. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

—Hey. —he said, scooting over to make room for you. —How was your day?

You sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. —Better now.

Percy chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. —You’re cute when you’re sappy, you know that?

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes trailing over his face and down to the strong line of his jaw. From there, your gaze wandered—his broad shoulders, the way his arms rested casually on his knees, the faint scars that told stories of battles won.

—Okay, what’s that look for? —Percy asked, amused.

You bit your lip, deciding to go for it. —I was just thinking… you’ve gotten really strong lately.

Percy blinked, caught off guard. —Uh, thanks? I mean, I’ve been training a lot, but..

—I like it. —you interrupted, your voice soft but teasing. —I mean, I really like it.

Percy’s face turned red, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. -Oh. Well, that’s… good to know.

You grinned, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. —Don’t get too cocky, Pers. But for the record, you’re ridiculously attractive.

A few days later, Percy seemed determined to test just how much you liked his newfound strength. During sparring practice, he pulled off a series of overly dramatic moves that had the other campers rolling their eyes—and had you trying very hard not to laugh.

Afterward, as you were both walking back to your cabins, he turned to you with a mischievous grin. —So… was that impressive enough for you?

You playfully shoved his shoulder. —You’re such a show-off.

—But you like it. —he countered, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a low murmur. —Admit it.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. —Fine. Maybe I do. Just a little.

Percy leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of affection—and a hint of smugness.

—Good. —he said softly. —Because I’d do anything to keep you looking at me like that.

That night, as you lay together on the dock by the lake, Percy’s arm draped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but trace your fingers over the muscles of his forearm.

—Do you ever get tired? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—Tired of what?

—Carrying the weight of the world. —you said, your tone teasing but your words sincere.

Percy’s smile was soft as he turned to look at you. —Not when you’re here. —he said simply.

And in that moment, as the stars reflected in the water and his hand found yours, you realized that no amount of strength could compare to the way he made you feel: safe, loved, and completely at home.

[yuikomorii]

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 1

// I present to you… MY FIRST EVER FANFIC! It’s inspired by these headcanons and these posts. As mentioned before, in this story, the Sakamakis are simply regular idols with a vampire-themed concept; they’re not actually vampires or related. Since I noticed how much you all enjoy this kind of content and have been so supportive, I thought you might like a fanfic based on it. ☺️

I’m by no means a professional writer, and my style leans more towards the visual novel/otome game format. Even so, I hope you’ll like it! 💕

Voice announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our destination.

Before you disembark, please take a moment to ensure you have all your personal belongings with you. For your safety, mind the gap between the train and the platform edge as you exit.

We sincerely thank you for choosing our services and travelling with us. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we hope to welcome you aboard again soon. Take care!

Yui: ( Eh? Is this…—! )

— eyes widen —

I’m here… I’m finally here!

Yui’s Monologue

I can’t believe my dream is actually coming true! All this time, this seemed like a childish wish but right now I truly am in Tokyo…!

Uuh… I’m getting a bit emotional, but can you blame me? It simply feels… surreal.

I never thought my father would agree to let me join a work exchange program in such a massive and dynamic city.

To be honest, I was half expecting him to say no, but it seems he believes in me more than I thought.

Knowing that he trusts me this much… it really makes me want to work even harder to prove he made the right choice.

Yes, that’s so. I will try my best to make father proud!

— takes big breath —

Yui: Nice to meet you, Tokyo. Let’s make this journey one to remember.

Place: Studio

Photographer: And~… pose! Ah yes, exactly like that! Keep on, keep on!

Ayato: ( Man, this shit is so tiring at this point. )

— smiles falsely —

Photographer: W-Wonderful…! Another one, thank you!

— keeps taking pictures —

Ayato: ( Can this woman stop blinding me with that flashlight already? It’s past 11 pm… )

Photographer: Now, a profile sho——

Manager: Hold on.

Pardon my intrusion, but I believe we already have enough pictures for today. Don't you think so?

Photographer: Eh? But we just got star— Oh my, it’s almost 12 am!?

G-Geez, my apologies. I guess the saying “time flies when you’re having fun” must really apply here.

— winks at Ayato —

Ayato: ( Gross! )

Manager: If more promotional pictures are required, we can extend the photoshoot to tomorrow. Watanabe-san, would it be possible for you to arrive earlier if that is the case?

Photographer: With such eye candy around, who could resist spending more time with him~?

Fufu, just kidding. I'll contact the director and get back to you with an answer as soon as possible.

Until then, have a good night! Bye-bye~!

— leaves —

Ayato: Haa… thanks goodness! One more photo, and I might’ve completely lost it.

Manager: I understand completely. Given your schedule, it’s clear you’re quite overworked. Nevertheless, it’s impressive how you still manage to perform so well.

Ayato: Heh… thanks.

— rubs eyes —

Manager: You look a bit tired, Ayato-san. Rest assured, the limousine should be arriving soon.

Ayato: Right, the limo is on its——

( Fuck! I can’t believe I almost forgot about it! )

Wait! Now that I think about it, I’ve got something else to take care of.

So… don’t mind me! Go ahead and take the limo; I’ll call for another one later.

Manager: Haa… Ayato-san.

You're not planning to do something that could get you into trouble, are you?

Ayato: O-Of course not! It’s just… no, it’s nothing important. Just a silly little thing I remembered I had to solve.

— tries to leave —

Manager: Ayato-san!

Ayato: Huh?

Manager: Do NOT let anyone see you, understood?

— Ayato nods and leaves —

???: You’re late.

Ayato: …!

Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!

Laito: My bad~. You came prepared at least, didn’t you?

Ayato: Yeah, yeah.

— puts cap and mask on —

Laito: Nfu, let’s go, shall we?

Place: Street

Yui: Uuh… come on! Why is no taxi in sight?

( It’s been two hours and I still couldn’t find my way to the Airbnb. )

( I knew Tokyo was huge, but I wasn’t expecting the transportation system to be this complicated… )

— looks at sky —

( It’s already late, huh? )

( I wonder if it’s safe for a girl to roam on these streets at this hour. Well, at least I hope it is, otherwise… )

Place: Private Night Club

Laito: Two Cosmopolitans. One for me, and one for that very fine lady over there, nfu.

Ayato: Another glass of Tequila.

Laito: Heh, another one? Is this the fifth by chance?

Ayato: I had a busy week, okay?

Laito: Ah, of course you did. After all, our Ayato-kun is the IT boy of this generation. Always swamped with brand deals, while the rest of us barely get a crumb~.

Ayato: …Not funny.

Laito: C’mon, don’t take it too seriously.

— pats his back —

I doubt any of us could care less about brand deals anyway. The idol job already pays well enough, and with barely any time for ourselves, why would we want to give up even more of our freedom?

Ayato: ( It’s not like it’s my choice though. )

Well, I can’t deny that the love I get is cool and all, but sometimes… hmm, how do I put it? It feels like people only like me because I’m an idol, y’know?

Laito: That’s to be expected, isn’t it? Fans often form a one-sided connection with idols simply because we’re constantly visible and accessible through the media, without really knowing who we are or what we’re capable of.

On top of that, you’re the visual, the face everyone admires. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone who's not only stunning but also famous? It’s like the perfect package for embodying every girl’s fantasy.

Ayato’s monologue

Laito… he always knows what to say.

Seriously, this guy is so aware of everything around him to the point that it’s becoming unsettling.

And the worst part? He’s not just talking—he’s right, which is why it almost hurts to hear it.

At the end of the day, we idols are just puppets, carefully crafted to feed into the fans’ delusions. They don’t see us for who we truly are, but rather as a fantasy they can cling to.

And we, caught in the spotlight, are forced to live out that role.

Before becoming an idol, I was surrounded by people who kept me around because of my looks. At first, the amount of attention felt good, but as I mature, I realize just how hollow that really is.

I can’t help but wonder… if it weren’t for my appearance or status, would anyone actually treat me nicely? Would anyone be willing to accept me, flaws and all?

Heh… now I just sound stupid. As long as I’m an idol, I doubt I’ll get my answer anytime soon.

Waitress: Here we go, gentlemen. The Cosmopolitan and the Tequila.

Laito: Hello, earth to Ayato-kun, are you still in there?

— waves in front of his eyes —

Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I was just spacing out a bit.

Laito: Nfu, cheers.

Ayato: Cheers.

— they start drinking —

Ayato: Ngh…!

( My chest… it started aching! )

Laito: Hm, you good?

Ayato: Y-Yeah… I just— Ngh!

( It’s getting worse! )

I need some fresh air, that’s all.

— quickly puts on mask and cap —

I’ll be right back.

— quickly goes outside —

( Haa… Haa… what is happening…!? )

Agh… fuck!

( It hurts…! Could this be…—— )

— eyes widen —

( No… No, don’t tell me this is a real heart attack! )

Hnn… Ngh!

( What… what should I do now!? )

???: Quick! Please, drink this!!

— hands him water —

Ayato: Huh…?

— takes it and starts drinking —

???: A-Are you feeling better? I got another bottle in case you need it too.

Ayato: Haa… Haa… It’s okay now, all good.

???: Are you sure…? You really seemed in a lot of pain.

Ayato: Yeah… no worries.

( This girl… she just saved my life, didn’t she? )

By the way, uhm… thanks for that.

???: A-Ah, it’s nothing, really.

As far as I recall from my father, drinking water after alcohol can help reduce chest pain and lessen the severity of a hangover. I’m glad to see that it actually works.

Ayato: Heck yeah, I’m glad to see that it worked too, otherwise who knows how I would have ended up.

— the girl giggles —

???: You should be more careful though. Drinking too much alcohol can be very dangerous.

Ayato: ( Okay, mom. )

Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m not usually like that.

Moreover… why exactly did you help me?

???: Eh? What do you mean?

Ayato: ( Could it be that she actually recognized me? )

( My face is practically hidden behind the mask and cap, and we’re in the dark, so there’s no way she could have, right? But if she did… )

???: Uuh… I suppose it was out of pure instinct.

Ayato: Instinct, huh?

???: Yup. You see, I heard you struggling, so there was no way I could brush that off.

Ayato: Hmm… But wait a minute, what were you doing all alone at this hour?

( What if she’s a stalker then? )

???: Ah… uhm… T-That’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud.

Ayato: Oh, come on, you straight up saw me about to drop dead from drinking Tequila. There’s no way this could be more embarrassing than that.

???: Actually… today’s my first day in Tokyo, and I’ve been struggling for almost 3 hours just trying to get to my Airbnb.

I tried taking the subway, but there were way too many lines, and I got lost at some point.

As for taxis, every time I tried to flag one down, the driver just ignored me.

Ayato: ( Nevermind, I’m taking it back. This might truly be more embarrassing. )

Pfft, why didn’t you call for a cab then?

???: I couldn’t find any reliable number…

Ayato: Hmm… Alright then.

I just arranged one for you. You’ll just have to tell them your location and wait for them to get you there. There’s also no need for you to pay.

— lends her money —

???: E-Eh!? Thank you… thank you so much! But I’m sorry, I just can’t accept the money!

Ayato: Nah, it’s fine, seriously. After all, you’re the one who helped me first.

Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened today. Understood?

— the girl nods —

Ayato: Heh, great. Well, I guess it was nice to meet you. Now it’s time for me to return.

???: W-Wait! I forgot to catch your name!

Ayato: …!

( So she really doesn’t know me? )

It’s——

( No… it’s too risky. )

Oh look, the cab arrived! You should hurry up!

???: But—

( He left…? )

Yui’s monologue

As the taxi started moving, I found myself looking back, almost subconsciously, hoping to catch one last glimpse of that boy.

Today had been exhausting, but despite the strange circumstances in which we met, those brief minutes spent with him were oddly comforting.

I wonder who he is and what his life is like. It feels a bit silly, I know, to be thinking so much about someone whose name I don’t even know.

But there was something in his presence that made me feel in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

Whatever it was, it stuck with me, lingering in my thoughts even after we parted ways.

My journey has only just begun, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that meeting him was no coincidence.

I really hope I get the chance to cross paths with him again.

[4linos]

when the walls crumble

lee felix x gn!reader

synopsis/request: felix’s stubbornness leads to a fallout with the person who cares about him most. in the aftermath of their argument, he must confront the consequences of his actions and decide what truly matters.

wc: 1341

For weeks, Felix has been pushing himself harder than usual. He has been working 24/7 with the group, practicing, recording, attending meetings, and putting in long hours of physical activity despite his back pain. The strain was becoming clear to you, despite Felix's attempts to hide it.

His usual happy personality became more subdued, his smile less frequent, and he began holding himself in an uncomfortable way, wincing while standing up or sitting down. You, as someone who loves him, observed the little details: the way he'd touch his lower back after long practices, or how he'd neglect breaks, pushing through the discomfort because he didn't want to slow anyone down. But what hurt you the most was the way he ignored any concerns you had.

He was always the one who looked out for everyone else, so seeing him suffer and refusing to listen to his own body seemed like a betrayal of his own well-being. You worried that if he kept going this way, it might lead to something far worse. But Felix, ever determined, refused to admit it. He had this hidden pride, a desire to prove his own worth even if it meant concealing his sorrow. The night of the argument was just like any other in recent weeks. Felix had gotten home from a late practice, dragging his tired body into the living room, exhausted but unwilling to stop. You had dinner ready, but Felix looked distant and deep in his thoughts. You tried to engage him by asking how his day went, but he just gave tired comments. You tried to ignore it, but something inside you snapped. The worry that had been building up inside of you for so long could no longer be suppressed. "Felix, we need to talk," you said, your voice faltering slightly. Felix looked up, slightly confused but not yet really understanding the gravity of the situation. "About what?" he asked, seemingly distracted rather than concerned.

You took a deep breath and, for the first time, let your concerns out. "I'm really worried about you," you added, speaking faster than you planned. "Your back has been bothering you lately but you keep pushing yourself like it's nothing. It isn't nothing, Felix. You're hurting yourself, and I can't keep watching you do it." Felix quickly reacted. His natural instinct was to shut down and conceal his sensitivity. "I'm okay alright? There is no need to worry. You're overreacting," he said, his voice defensive.

But it wasn’t enough. The words you had been holding in for days burst out. “No, it’s not nothing! Felix, you're in pain, and you keep pretending like it doesn’t matter. You think it’s not a big deal because you’re trying to push yourself to the limit what for? So you can impress someone? Or are you doing this for your fans?”

You shook your head, stepping closer, trying to make him understand. “You’re not invincible, Felix. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I’m scared you're going to hurt yourself in ways that can’t be undone. I can’t just sit here and let you destroy yourself because you won’t listen to me."

But Felix wasn’t hearing it. Instead, frustration poured out of him. “I know my body better than anyone else, okay? Stop treating me like I’m fragile. I can handle this! You don’t get it. I can’t slow down, I can’t—” He broke off, his voice rising. “I don’t want to slow down! This is my dream, my life! I can’t just sit back and stop because you’re worried about me.”

The words hit you like a slap. His persistence, his desire to keep pushing himself, felt like a personal rejection of your concern for him. He was dismissing whatever you said, as if your concern was just an irritation to him. The pain welled up inside you, and before you could stop yourself, the words poured out. "Do you know what, Felix? Fine. Maybe I'm the one who doesn't get it. Maybe I'm too worried. Maybe you're right. You don't need anyone to watch out for you. Maybe you truly do know best, even if it is hurting you!" You took a sharp breath, the anger now fully bleeding into your words.

Felix froze, his body tense as he absorbed the sting of your words. For a long moment, the room was filled with silence, thick and suffocating. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. And with that, you took a step back, your voice quieter but bitter. "So, who am I to say anything? I'm just too worried, right? Someone who has no idea what is best for you. Fine. Do what you want. It's not like it matters anyway."

You stormed out of the room before Felix was able to react, leaving him taken aback and speechless.

The next morning, Felix woke up to the weight of the argument hanging over him. He tried to shake it off, tried to focus on work and rehearsals, but everything felt like a blur. His body ached more than usual, and his mind kept replaying your words. He knew he had hurt you. Deeply. But he didn’t know how to fix it.

At work, he tried to focus on the task at hand, but your face kept flashing through his head, your words becoming louder with each passing instant. You were only trying to help, to make him see that he was worn out, but he had pushed you away. He had been so headstrong, so determined to prove something, that he had neglected to care for the one thing that truly mattered: his relationship with you.

He saw you as he was leaving for a meeting and walking past your desk. You were staring at your screen, eyes red-rimmed and visibly upset, when it hit him like a ton of bricks. You were still hurting, and it was his fault.

Felix approached you gently, his chest tense with regret. "Hey," he whispered quietly, just above a whisper. You didn't look up at first, too proud or hurt to recognize him, but Felix stretched out and gently touched your arm. You looked up, and for just a moment, the vulnerability in your eyes cut through him. "I'm really sorry," he murmured, his voice shaking. "I shouldn't have said those words. "I was just... I was being an idiot. I know you were just trying to help, and I should have listened. I shouldn't have shut you out."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Felix… I just want you to be okay. I don't want to keep watching you hurt yourself when I know you're struggling. I care about you, and I can't just sit there and pretend it's not happening." Felix's stare softened, and he took a step closer, putting his hand on yours. "I care about you, too. I was stupid to push you away. I will take better care of myself, I promise. I don't know what I'd do without you. Please never believe that I don't appreciate you looking out for me."

You sighed, the weight on your chest starting to ease. “I’m just scared, Felix. I’m scared that one day, I’ll watch you do something irreversible, and I won’t be able to stop it.” Felix’s grip tightened, a vow in his voice. “You’ll never have to. I’ll listen from now on. I’ll let you help me. I just… I just need you with me.”

The air between you both seemed to calm. You let out a shaky breath and squeezed his hand back. “We’ll get through this together. But you have to promise me you’ll take care of yourself too.”

Felix nodded, his eyes locked onto yours with sincerity. “I promise.”

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. Felix hugged you just as tightly, his heart lightening with relief. Despite the hurt and the argument, you both had a quiet understanding that would help you navigate the future together.

//

masterlist

[prlssprfctn]

I awfully need a fic, where Jason gets drugged by a big dose of fear toxin and starts seeing Joker's hallucination around — kind of like Bruce in Arkham Knight game, you know — and everyone is just... confused what to do with all of it?

They can't really produce antidote because it would fuck up his mind more, so he is stuck in the cave for the next 24 hours, and no one is leaving, because they can't allow Jason to go through this alone. Again.

Jason tries to put a brave face of course (god, he is THE Red Hood, one of the most influential people in the Gotham, he can't be afraid of a stupid clown–) but the more hours pass, the less he can control his fear or anxiety. Instead of pacing around like a ghost — he did that in the first four hours — he sits down on the couch, hugs himself, and starts answering to Joker?

Yeah, he knows he is not real. He understands that feeding hallucination with conversations will not help — and Dick, the ultimate expert in handling hallucinations, really, gave him some tips on what to do — but he can't just ignore it now.

He is too scared.

He remembers what comes if he flips off Joker or stops playing by his rules, alright?

"Knock, knock!"

Joker's face is as pale and terrifying as Jason remembers it to be. And maybe it is hallucination, but he still can feel his panted, hot breath on his ear.

He is alone, of course. Or not entirely alone, but others would notice if Joker was really here, right?

"Who is this?" He whispers, sensing his family tensing a little, not being sure what to expect.

Jason either argues with his hallucination or asks to stop. Or maybe just wordlessly scraps on his temples or cheek, in the place the J scar used to be, before the Lazarus Pit erased it from his body completely, leaving no traces.

"The stray dog that can't bark! Do you know why it can not bark, Jayjay?"

"I don't fucking know," he murmurs, but the fiericness with which he screamed at this man for hours now is gone; he sounds tired even to his own ears, and it is embarrassing. "Tell me."

"Because I broke its bones with a crowbar, silly!~" Joker shakes his shoulders, and Jason can practically feel the familiar ache of shattered bones. "It– Ahahah, it is too hurt to bark! It can only whine!"

Jason laughs.

His facial expression doesn't really change — he is still frowning a little — but he laughs with a painful wheeze. Joker is pleased enough to sigh dreamily in his ear.

Good job, Jason.

"What so funny?" Dick asks carefully, a patient smile on his face — he has been trying to distract him with conversations the most; Bruce prefers to keep his silence, and Tim thinks accidental physical touches help more than talking.

"He just said a joke," Jason shrugs weakily.

"Tell it to them," Joker orders. "Let us all laugh."

He doesn't really want to. But he can't disobey. He can't allow himself to die again, and–

"Knock, knock," he clears up his throat.

"Who is this?" Tim echoes, turning his chair to him, smart eyes scanning him up and down.

"The stray dog that can't bark," Jason tugs the tips of his own hair. "Do you know why it can not bark?"

Bruce tenses in his chair. He tenses in a way, Jason thinks, he already knows this joke; he has already heard it before. He almost looks as if he wants to stop him, cut mid-sentence.

But for some reason, he doesn't.

"Uh, why?" Dick tilts his head.

"Because my– its bones are broken," Jason stutters. "You know, dogs can't really bark when they are hurt? Just whine."

He can't bring himself to laugh again, even though Joker keeps giggling over and over.

"That's not funny, Jay," Tim murmurs.

"Yeah. I guess it isn't. But if I don't laugh, he'll get the crowbar again, and I really, really want to keep barking," Jason smiles.

He tries to ignore pitful glances of his family members, and the torture continues. No one breaks his bones this time, but Jason still whines when Bruce hugs him by the end of the night, pressing to his chest.

Joker is not here anymore, but Jason still can hear his taunting whisper, somewhere in the back of his head.

You will die his son.

[yumeka-sxf]

Relatively short new chapter today, but still a lot to unpack! While we didn't get a ton of Melinda lore yet, as the majority of the chapter was Loid saying things to try and win her over, I found it interesting to see insight into one of his "fake" therapy sessions.

As usual with all the conversations he has with people in his "Loid Forger" persona, if the topic gets heavy, he'll end up saying things that are, what I believe, what he truly feels. This is usually preceded by him dropping the forced smile and showing a glimpse of a more thoughtful expression, for example, in the below panel when Melinda comments on how strong and "lively" she thinks Loid and Yor are. He then goes on to tell her that there's no crime or shame in not being strong enough.

While it is debatable whether he's being genuine here or not, I can't help but be reminded of similar conversations he's had with Yor in the past...way back in chapter 14 where he told her how tiring it can be to put up a facade all the time. And then much later in chapter 86 where she tells him, in her own way, that he doesn't have to be strong and "perfect" all the time.

I'm probably reading too much into it, but it's just something that came to mind 😅 But on the topic of Melinda saying they're "lively," the word she uses in the Japanese version in 健全な ("kanzenna") which is more like "healthy, sound, stable, etc" (the first kanji is "healthy/strong," and the second is "whole/all.") So yeah, a slightly different nuance than "lively."

I also smiled when I saw that Loid still calls Yor "Yor-san" in his thoughts ❤️

It wouldn't be a SxF chapter with at least a subtle hint at something "darker" going on or has gone on...in this case, we hear a bit of Melinda's thoughts about the post-war time.

But the big shocker was obviously the final page where she claims that Donovan is an alien. I checked the Japanese version to make sure, and she does indeed use the term 宇宙人 ("uchuujin"), which is "alien" in the traditional sense.

Upcoming plot twist...this previous Endo art for short mission 10 will turn out to be canon 🤣

Joking aside, I don't think that Donovan is literally an alien, as mixing a truly sci-fi element like that into the world of SxF would be too jarring. So probably something that Donovan has done made Melinda come to that conclusion. As for what it is about him that that would make her think this is debatable - his involvement in science experiments/Project Apple? If he actually has the ability to read minds, is this the explanation she's come up? Or maybe he wants her to think this for some reason? There's also a theory that she doesn't actually believe he's an alien and is only saying it to test Loid in some way. Whatever the reason is, we'll have to wait until next time for more answers!

[tired-truffle]

Before We Lost It All

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.5k

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt @dedicated2viktor

"We make each other alive. Does it matter if it hurts?" - Ingmar Bergman

A/N: This takes place in chapter 9 of Muj Milacek during the scene where you convince Viktor to take a break from working and get some much-needed rest - in your bed, of course.

Masterlist

He’d let you sucker him into resting with those big, pleading eyes that plucked at his heartstrings. He was worrying you, he knew this, but he’d never been very good at accepting help. With his declining health and your visions of his death hanging over his head, he’d been growing increasingly desperate. And desperate times called for desperate measures - like sleeping in the same bed as the girl he’d been in love with for seven whole years.

If only you’d stop laughing at him.

"Is there something you find humorous about my attire, Milá?" He fixed you with what he hoped was a lovingly exasperated glare. At that point, he was too exhausted to tell.

"I'm sorry." You continued to giggle, undercutting your apology, though he found the sound pleasing enough to forgive you. "I'm overtired and I really wasn't expecting them to be that ill-fitting."

Viktor huffed at you, rolling his eyes with a small smile. He was well aware he looked ridiculous, the oversized shirt drowned his thin torso in fabric, but the pants barely reached past his knees. They had to be children’s pants, why you had them was beyond his understanding. To make matters worse, you were standing there in nothing but a large shirt that reached your upper thighs, your legs illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window, and he assumed underwear beneath. You were gorgeous, and he was…feeling rather silly. Though he found it difficult to care all that much when you smiled so sweetly at him, the corners of your eyes crinkled with mirth.

"You can have the bed,” you offered when you’d managed to stop giggling. “I'll take the couch."

"I'm not stealing your bed, Miláček, it is plenty big enough for the both of us." Viktor pulled back the covers, slipping in. "And I will not subject you to that couch for any longer than necessary. I swear they made it with knives instead of springs."

He had insisted this both out of genuine concern for your back after sleeping on such an object, and out of his selfish want to sleep beside you. Could a dying man not be granted this one wish?

You hesitated, and for a moment he worried he’d overstepped your boundaries. But he wasn’t left waiting for long. You made your way to the bedside, shy but not necessarily timid.

"If you insist," you said, turning off the bedside lamp. "But you better not warm up your frigid toes on me."

"No promises."

The mattress dipped as you climbed into bed beside him, laying down with your hands curled tight against your chest. You were facing him, your chin tilted to meet his gaze.

This felt dangerously intimate. He was in bed with the woman he secretly loved - well, secret to you, Viktor was pretty sure everyone else knew. If he asked you to come closer, would you understand then? If he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head, his hands cradling your back, would he need to say it? But he couldn’t voice his request, couldn’t find the words to ask for that which he longed for most.

He’d been a fool to think he could sleep with you so close yet not within his grasp. To lay beside you like his skin didn’t prickle with the need to be pressed completely against you was its own kind of torture.

"Does it hurt?" You broke the silence, your head turning to face him in the dark.

He was too tired to try to deny it, and you’d see through his lie anyway. "Yes," he answered plainly.

"Can I try something?" you asked, your tone even.

Curious and unable to deny such a simple request, he nodded. You reached forward, placing your hand against his chest and sending a bolt of excitement running through him. Your palm was soft and warm through his shirt, your heart beating quickly in your veins and tapping lightly against him. He lay still, his gaze fixed on you, giving you space to make the next move.

You closed your eyes, forcing your breathing to even out, your nose crinkling adorably in the low moonlight as you concentrated.

Nothing happened.

"Can I get closer?" you asked, and he appreciated your asking for permission - always polite and giving him the agency to choose. 

He opened his arms, motioning for you to snuggle in. Slowly, you scooted closer until the top of your head was just below his chin, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his as you breathed. Your ear rested against his chest, one hand pressed against his chest while you placed the other on his back, over the back brace he’d been too tired to take off. He’d regret that tomorrow when his skin itched and his spine ached, but now he could focus on little else except the feeling of you curled up in his arms. Slipping an arm under your neck, he rested the other over your waist, drawing lazy circles on the small of your back. Viktor didn’t want to think about anything that didn’t involve you, nor how difficult it was going to be to pull himself away when the time came.

This wasn’t the first time you’d insisted he take a much-needed break from his work. Years ago you'd dragged him to a street fair in Piltover when he’d become so worn down by reports that he didn’t know where he ended and the equations began. He'd grumbled at first, but your infectious enthusiasm had won him over. You'd shared sticky cotton candy, the sweetness on your lips making him ache to taste them. When fireworks exploded overhead, he'd been captivated not by the display, but by the light reflected in your eyes.

Viktor's heart swelled with a bittersweet ache. He loved you - wholly, desperately, irrevocably. You were the sun to his withering form, the spark that kept his passion for progress alive even as his body failed him. He longed to confess, to pour out seven years of pent-up devotion. But fear held him back - fear of rejection, of complicating your friendship, of leaving you heartbroken when his time inevitably ran out.

So instead, he held you close in the darkness, committing every detail to memory. The soft whisper of your breath against his neck. The delicate curve of your spine beneath his fingertips. The subtle scent of your shampoo, floral and comforting. He etched it all into his mind, a perfect moment to carry with him always, no matter what the future held.

Viktor felt a sudden warmth emanate from your palm, spreading through his chest like rays of sunlight. A faint blue glow pulsed beneath your skin, illuminating the creases of your hand.

As your magic seeped into him, Viktor was struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The sensation was wistfully familiar, like a half-remembered dream or a long-lost memory struggling to surface. It felt like coming home after years away, like slipping into a warm bath after trudging through a blizzard. He couldn't place why it felt so natural, so right, but he found himself sinking into the comfort of it nonetheless.

The magic flowed through him, a soothing current that sought out every ache and pain. It pooled in his joints, easing the constant throbbing in his hip and knee. It traced along his spine, melting away the tension that had become a constant companion. Even the persistent headache that had taken up residence behind his eyes began to recede.

As the pain ebbed away, replaced by a numbing coolness, Viktor felt his body truly relax for the first time in years. His muscles unknotted, his breathing deepened, and the ever-present furrow between his brows smoothed out. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, filled with relief and contentment.

"Miláček," he whispered hoarsely, his voice heavy with sleep, "you truly are a wonder."

You didn't respond, your eyes still closed in concentration, but he felt your magic pulse in response to his voice. The blue glow intensified, casting soft shadows across your features. Viktor found himself enthralled at the sight, overcome by your beauty, wishing he could run his fingers down your jaw before capturing your lips in a kiss.

As the pain receded further, Viktor found his mind clearing. Ideas and solutions that had been just out of reach now crystallized with startling clarity. It was as if your magic had not only soothed his body, but sharpened his intellect as well. He wanted to leap out of bed and rush to his workbench, to capture these fleeting inspirations before they could slip away.

But the warmth of your body against his and the blissful absence of pain kept him rooted in place. For once, Viktor allowed himself to simply exist in the moment, free from the constant drive to work, to improve, to race against his own mortality. He tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer as you nestled in, pressing your face against his neck.

Viktor fought against the encroaching darkness, desperate to savour every second of this closeness, but exhaustion tugged insistently at the edges of his consciousness.

Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

Viktor drifted slowly into consciousness, his mind still blissfully foggy with sleep. Without thinking, he tightened his arms around the warm body pressed against him, pulling you closer. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in your familiar scent. For a moment, everything was perfect.

Then awareness hit him like a bucket of ice water.

His eyes flew open as he realized where his hands were. One had slipped beneath your shirt during the night, splayed across the bare skin between your shoulder blades. If he moved it even slightly higher, he'd expose…Viktor's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to complete that thought.

"Yeah, I noticed that too," you said, alerting him that you were awake.

He became acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies. Your leg was slotted between his, your thigh pressed dangerously close to his groin. Your breath tickled his collarbone, your lips mere centimetres from his skin.

Viktor squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the temptation. You trusted him, had opened your home and your bed to him without hesitation. He refused to betray that trust, no matter how much his body screamed for more contact.

But oh, how he ached to explore further. To trace the curve of your spine, to map every inch of your skin with reverent touches. To wake you with gentle kisses and whispered confessions of love.

But that wasn’t for him.

"My apologies, Milá, that was not my intention," he said apologetically, reluctantly pulling his arm away and tugging your shirt down for you. It was the least he could do.

Returning his arm to your now clothed waist, his finger traced smooth patterns along your back. He swallowed his gasp of surprise when you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"It's okay,” your words vibrated against his shoulder, “I don't mind."

He hummed a soft acknowledgement and was pleased when you made no move to disentangle yourself. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the peaceful bubble. Nature's symphony of birdsong and distant traffic provided a gentle soundtrack as he let himself slowly wake up. As the fog of sleep lifted, Viktor became acutely aware of the pain creeping back into his body, the ache in his joints and the tightness of his back. Still, his head felt clearer than it had in months, the persistent headache reduced to a dull throb rather than the usual stabbing agony. He felt…rested. Truly rested, in a way he hadn't experienced in years.

Much too soon, your alarm clock shattered the serene atmosphere and worsened his headache.

You groaned as you slowly peeled yourself off of him and Viktor resisted the urge to grab your hips and pull you back into his arms. With a sigh, you slapped the top of the alarm clock aimlessly, finally hitting the off button and ending its incessant beeping.

Flopping onto your back, you turned to look at him, a soft, warm smile spreading across your face. The morning light caught in your tousled hair, creating a halo effect that made you look almost ethereal. Your eyes, still heavy-lidded with sleep, held a tenderness that made his heart stutter in his chest.

By the Gods, you were beautiful. Not in the polished, artificial way of Piltover's elite, but in a way that was uniquely, breathtakingly you. It was beyond his ability to describe, so he didn’t try.

Viktor's fingers twitched with the desire to trace the curve of your jaw, to tangle in your hair and draw you close. He imagined pressing his forehead against yours, breathing the same air, whispering all the words he'd kept locked away for so long.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't risk ruining this, whatever this was between you. So instead, he returned your smile with a small one of his own, hoping it conveyed even a fraction of the warmth he felt.

“You look like you slept well,” you teased, your smile tilting into a lopsided grin.

"You say that like it’s a good thing but it seems more like an insult to me." He patted at his hair, an attempt to flatten it that was doomed to fail from the beginning.

You giggled, a wonderous sound he would never tire of hearing, and sat up in bed. Before he had time to avert his gave, you’d stretched your arms over your head and you squeezed your eyes shut. Did you realize how your thin shirt plastered itself against your body, giving him a clear view of all your soft curves?

He cleared his throat, finding great interest in staring at the wall across the room, ignoring the blush that tinted his cheeks. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw your blush match his when you realized exactly what had just happened.

"I'm going to get ready," you announced shakily. With a quick swivel, you got out of bed and picked your clothes out of the closet, all while keeping your back to Viktor. Not that he minded, necessarily, but there was something about your reddened cheeks that captivated him entirely. "I'll meet you in the lab with breakfast?"

"Grab me a sweet milk and carrot muffin if they have it?"

“I’ll do my best!”

As you fled to the bathroom, Viktor found his voice once more. "Thank you, Mila." You turned back around to peek at him from around the door, adorable in your embarrassment. "I feel much better, you were right after all."

You smiled softly at him. "You should come back tonight," you said before hastily adding, "but only if you want to, of course."

He wanted nothing more, but did you? He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the sunlight streaming through the window illuminating his soft brown hair. "Are you sure? I don’t wish to impose any more than I already have."

You shook your head. “I don’t like sleeping alone, you’re not the only one who benefits.”

He smiled, bright and unburdened. Why had he doubted you? It seemed silly now when you regarded him with such bashful hope. You cared for him as he cared for you, didn’t you? “Then I suppose we have a deal.”

A/N: Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed the second Viktor's POV <3 Sadly, the arcane hyperfixation has left me, but when it comes back, I'm sure you'll definitely see more of these two! For now, I must let the writing demons out in my Dragon Age fic - time to terrorize another fandom!

[fawnsflowerbed]

HELLOOOOOOOO!!!!

Carrying over from the previous puppy leon ask, I was thinking about hybrid dog vendetta leon, just finding him on your porch, just laying down behind one of the chairs. He hasn’t knocked on your door to ask for food, he never will. He’s at rock bottom, he doesn’t want to eat anymore, all he wants to do is sleep and listen to your music thats muffled outside. One day you take the trash out and you notice him and he’s too numb to be scared of any potential consequences, expecting the worst out of you, but instead he gets his cheek rubbed and scratchies behind the ears. And then hes being carried into your home, soft praises being mumbled into his ear, and he has a warm bath and a hot meal waiting for him. All the dirt and grime is cleaned off, theres a warmth in his belly again, and he’s laid in your bed. And he just looks up at you with all the adoration in the world. He’s someone’s little angel now, their sweetheart, their baby. It’s too good to be true, one day he’ll be thrown out once you realize how sad and useless he is, he can’t even do the bare minimum of being the happy, comforting dog he’s supposed to be. But it doesn’t seem to matter to you, you call him a good boy all the same and just hold him, kissing his forehead and his freshly washed hair. You’re happy with him now, oddly enough, his curious sniffing and his big eyes staring up at you makes you smile. Maybe you will get tired of him one day (no you won’t), but at least right now there’s someone who loves him. Right in this moment, he’s loved, he’s cared for. That’s more than he’s ever had in the past. And maybe instead of worrying, he should just lean into the affection. So he does. He wraps his arms around your waist and licks your cheek, a silent thank you, and he buries his face into your neck, a wetness soaking through your sweater, and eventually he falls asleep, warm and happy, and at home.

-🌷

OLD MAN DOG HYBRID LEONNNN!!!! SCRATCHES UP MY WALLPAPER!!!!! The way his exhaustion would soak through his skin, he can't even muster a growl as he sits behind your porch chairs in the pouring rain. You frown, and he's sure you're going to tell him to piss off and bug someone else. But instead you seem.. soft. Leaning down to rub his cheek, running a hand over his hair to scratch behind his ear. It's been so long since he'd been touched with such tender care, leaning his head into the scritching with an exhausted sigh. Hardly registering how you straighten him and sling him into your home.

"Poor thing.." You mumble, and he can't help but agree. He's pitiful compared to his younger self. Yet you don't say it as an insult, moreso as a worry. Gently brushing the hair from his face as you carefully shed his clothes and settle him into a hot bath. How long had it been since he'd had a proper bath? With you gently working soap over the dirt caking his skin and combing the knots from his hair. He doesn't growl, or snap, he just stares at the bottom of the tub aimlessly. Only making out the soothing tone of your voice as you wash out and off the suds. "There you go, good boy." Oh, he hasn't heard that in so long.

He's not a fan of the hair dryer, but that's okay. He doesn't bite and nip at the air with an angrily stiff tail, he's grown out of that phase. So he only grumbles mentally at the whir of the fan.

But the huffs stop when he realises the reason you left him alone in the tub for a moment (and he, as a good boy, remained sat and stayed) was because you were washing and drying his clothes. Just a quick five minute rinse and wash in the sink, a fast run through the dryer. It'd been so long since he'd relished in the smell of washing detergent, the softness of clean linen and cotton. His tail swishes, working the fabric over his now clean body before carefully treading downstairs, ears up and eyes wide and nose sniffing. Taking in the aura of your home, the comfort. But he could smell it. Food. Warm, hot food.

When he does make it downstairs there you are, setting a bowl of steaming food down on the dining table with a soft smile. "That must feel better, huh buddy?" There goes his tail again, watching as you pat the seat. "C'mon, you're probably starving."

Even as he snuffles at the food before eating it, even as he wipes his mouth haphazardly with his hand out of habit rather than using a napkin, he looks around the house with curious eyes. Even after his belly is full and his heart is whole, you stay. You don't kick him to the curb after an act of kindness like he expected. Instead you pet over his wet hair, let him sniff at your neck and hands, his tail swaying. You're patient.

And patience is what he needed.

[ninikrumbs]

fluff with boyfriend satoru. thats it.

boyfriendsatoru who's weary and exhausted from the weight of the world on his shoulders, fighting curses day in and day out.

boyfriendsatoru who's favorite part of the day is coming home to you, to the soft hum of your cozy apartment. Your warm smile and open arms a perfect remedy to melt away the exhaustion in his bones, along with the smell of a freshly made meal or takeout depending on how tired you were from your own missions.

"Welcome home, Toru!" The tender tone in your voice made his heart warm. Despite your tired eyes, you still stood up to greet him by the door. You wear wearing his shirt and nothing else with your hair up in a messy bun. And to him you looked so beautiful it almost hurt. How did he ever deserve you?

He closes the distance between you two, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, hugging you tightly like someone was gonna take you away.

Tucking his head in the crook of your neck, he breathes you in and melts into your embrace. "Im home."

boyfriendsatoru who's house is now so full of life ever since you came in the picture, apartment now filled with cute trinkets, scented candles, plants and cozy throw pillows. A stark difference from his once cold and empty house that he only uses to sleep for a few hours before carrying the mantle as the storngest once more.

boyfriendsatoru who makes up for his absence due to long missions every chance he gets. He now demands for days off like other sorcerers and spends those days trailing behind you like a little puppy.

boyfriendsatoru who doesn't know what personal space is when it comes to you. Wanna shower? he's right there with you. Reading a book in bed? his using your chest as a pillow, purring like a cat every time your laugh reverberates from your body, might even offer to reenact your favorite scenes. Need to pee in the middle of the night? You get startled when he opens the door, sleepy face yawning as he scratches his toned tummy while he waits for you to be finished. Claiming that he can't sleep without you. Doing skincare? He's right beside you, waiting for you to pat in your toner and moisturiser on his face. Honestly, he's just a baby who loves you and wants to be included in everything.

"Toru, not that I mind..."

He looks up from his place on your chest, looking so sleepy and satisfied that you almost didn't wanna disturb him.

He yawns before answering you, voice laced with sleep. "What is it, sweets?"

You thread your fingers through his fluffy hair, giving him head scratches here and there and he basically purrs like a kitty on catnip. "You know you don't t have to spend every waking moment with me. I know you feel like you have to make up for the time we're apart, but its okay to make time for yourself you know."

In typical Gojo fashion, Satoru juts his lips out as his eyes water comically. "Does that mean you don't want to spend time me?"

"What? No!" You were somehow panicked and amused at the same time.

"You should've just shot me instead, that would have hurt less!" He cries, tightening his arms around your waist.

You shake your head at his theatrics, laughing fondly, "I didn't mean that you big baby."

Sparkly blue eyes stare back at you, "But Im your baby."

You snort in response. If only the world could see him now, the stongest so soft like this. But truly you felt lucky that monly you could see this side to Satoru. A side to him that you could keep all to yourself. The world can have the strongest, you only ever wanted Satoru. "Toru, I only meant that you might get tired of me if you don't have your personal space."

He scoffs, looking so offended. "First of all, there's absolutely no chance of me getting sick of you and second Ive had enough alone time to last me a life time."

The way he said the last part made it sound like it was no big deal but the thought of him coming home to an empy house with no one to turn to made your heart ache. "Toru.."

Seeing the look on your face, he quickly gives you a smile, "Don't look at me like that, sweets. Im fine, really. Its all in the past."

You were unconvinced but you didn't want to breach deeper into such a sad subject so instead you made a promise to yourself to make sure he never feels alone ever again.

You pull him up and wrap your arms around his neck, he snuggles into you but makes sure not to crush you under his weight. His warmth seeps into your skin as you caress his back. You murmur softly into his neck, "You have me, Toru. Always."

Gojo had to blink back the tears and stop his voice from shaking when he spoke, "And you have me."

--

"Just to be clear, you don't like personal space?" You ask, teasing lightly as you looked down at Gojo on you lap.

He gazes up at you, arms circling your waist, smirking cheekily as he answers, "I like your personal space."