#they are each other's comfort person. to me.

[keylimepie]

You know, I've thought about this a lot over the years. I started participating in fandom 25 years ago, and I do remember during the LiveJournal (LJ) and forums eras that I rarely if ever heard a fanfic writer complaining about engagement and each chapter was full of comments. Then around 2010 tumblr happened and everyone migrated from LJ to tumblr. Suddenly fanfiction writers were complaining about a lack of engagement. I think this is largely because we became so centralized and lost all sense of community. It used to be you had to sign up for a website with a forum dedicated to a very specific pairing, or you had to join a livejournal community that was very specific to your interest. And the membership might reach a little under 2k. Most of these communities were locked too, so you didn't have to worry about what you said being publicly visible to folks outside your community. You knew who you were speaking to and who could see what you were saying.

Tumblr, tiktok, and twitter are more like shouting into the void and hoping someone in the crowds of 100k people take notice of you, and that task is way easier with a pretty photo or a video than with a fic. You don't know who is going to see what you're saying, and I think most of us have either experienced or witnessed someone receiving dog-piled backlash because one person misconstrued what the OP said. So basically, not only are you struggling to get attention in a massive crowd from people with incredibly short attention spans who have no idea who you are, but if you do manage to get someone's attention they may be too scared to say anything publicly. Hell they may be too scared to DM the author because they don't know the author either and I have seen authors tear apart DMs publicly because they misconstrued something that was said and now the author's fanbase is dog-piling that person. You ever notice how so many asks to authors are anon? People are scared, and it is so much safer to just like or kudo something than put yourself out there in front of a potential firing squad.

Also just want to point out, that a lot of asks people send to creators never get addressed, either because tumblr ate it, or the creator decided to ignore it, or the creator's inbox was overflowing. And after awhile people stop sending asks to not only that creator, but other creators as well because they've been receiving negative reinforcement that their engagement is undesired.

I think I saw another one of these posts floating around where it turned out people were gushing about fics in discords but not commenting on AO3 or the author's tumblr. And this kind of makes sense to me. Discords are a lot like the forums and LJ communities of old, where it is a much smaller group and you tend to know most of the people there and you feel more comfortable speaking up.

I just don't think huge centralized hubs are of the benefit to creators. It is fine to post stuff to tumblr or AO3 or wherever, but that isn't enough. If you want engagement you need to build up or join a community and cross-post there. If you're just flinging your work into the void and expecting engagement, then it just isn't going to work. Sure people will find it, but they wont feel comfortable enough to say anything where they have no control over who sees it. 20 years ago, we didn't have tumblr or twitter or even AO3, you had to find or start a community if you wanted to share your work. We had to make our own spaces not rely on corporate spaces, and I think that is what the difference is. You need to create a space where people feel safe to engage, and tumblr has NEVER been that. Tumblr has been terrible from day 1 for engagement, just toxic and mindless so often.

TLDR: No one is engaging because the sense of community is completely gone and been stripped away over the last 15 years. I cannot stress enough for the younger folk how much fandom these days is just not what fandom was. It has been 13 years since I last felt a sense of community in any of my fandoms, and it sucks. I can't help but think we need to decentralize again and create little pocket communities in order to return fandom to what it is meant to be.

You know what’s really disturbing to me? The culture that seems to have sprung up around fanfiction. Writers spend weeks and months working on a story – I think my record is six months on A Place For Us To Dream. And so many times readers expect to just be given a chapter even if they don’t give anything to the writer in return.

I’m going to date myself a bit here, but I’ve been reading/writing fanfiction for ten years. And when I first started it was a wonderful community. There was an unspoken rule – if you read/enjoyed it, you review it. You take thirty seconds to tell an author who probably spent anywhere from three days to a week writing that chapter you just enjoyed to tell them you enjoyed it. Even if it was as simple as “Great chapter, can’t wait to see what happens next!”

Writers spend so much time on stories, and then they post it because they have this thing that they’ve invested so many hours into and they want to share it with the world. They know how they feel about the story, and they want to know how other people feel, what other people think.

And when you read it and don’t review, you know what message you’re sending that author? That they’re not worth your time, or you didn’t enjoy their story. So why should they keep posting it? Yeah they might continue working on it in their own time, for their own enjoyment, but you might never see another chapter again because you couldn’t be bothered to take thirty seconds out of your day to tell them how you feel.

I’ve written stories in eight different fandoms, ranging from very small to very big (I’ll openly admit I wrote Twilight fanfiction once. Once. It was an Alice/Jasper story and haters can hate all they want but I’m still proud of it). I took a break for a few years because I fell out of fandoms during college, and when I came back apparently it’d become the norm to just greedily consume writing without telling writers how you feel. And that is one of the saddest things in the world to me because fanfiction is where I really started getting serious about writing. It’s how I’ve honed by skills and become the writer I am today. And that was largely in part because of all the support I got when I was an itty-bitty thirteen-year-old writing crappy W.I.T.C.H. fanfiction.

Everyone keeps saying “reviews don’t matter, you should just write for yourself.” Well, you’re wrong. Reviews make or break fanfiction. Reviews tell writers whether it’s worth their time to continue posting that story online or whether they should keep it on their hard drives and never share it with the world.

Kill the attitude that reviews don’t matter. Start telling writers you like their stories. And if you don’t, if you all just continue to be invisible readers? Don’t be surprised when that writer disappears.

[corroded-hellfire]

Forever Young - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: It’s Eddie’s 40th birthday and when everything else is making him feel old, you aim to show him that he’s still young.

Note: in honor of our birthday boy

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m! receiving, older!eddie, Eddie still has his breeding kink of course

Words: 2.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

To say Eddie wasn’t excited about his 40th birthday would be an understatement. The closer it came to the day, the grumpier your husband became. He’d grumble under his breath, the words obviously not meant to be heard by you or the kids; but the sentiment was still conveyed.

Months before his birthday, Eddie made it clear to you that he did not want a party. Although he loved spending time with his friends and loved ones, he had decided that he only wanted to spend this particular day with his family. But just because he would be getting through the day unscathed by in-person jokes and ribbing from the likes of Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson didn’t mean his own family wasn’t going to tease the patriarch.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Luke holds a card out to his father. His grin isn’t necessarily mischievous, but it’s smart to always be on guard when it comes to the teenager.

“Thank you.” Eddie takes the indigo envelope from his son and slips the card out. Before his eyes can even take in the bold bubble letters on the front, a pamphlet slips out. Eddie catches it before it can fall to the floor and holds it up to take a proper look.

Hawkins Comfort: The Exceptional Home for Senior Living

The clenching of Eddie’s jaw causes Luke to snicker. Your husband tosses the pamphlet at your son’s face before reading the card itself. Luckily for Luke, the card itself was sweet and didn’t add further insult to injury.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie nods his head and closes the card.

“Thanks,” he reiterates.

“Aw come on, Dad,” Luke says, stepping forward and patting his father on the back. “I’m just messing with you.”

Freshly dressed for the evening out, Eliza zooms into the room, the three-year-old already tickled pink at the thought of having some cake after dinner. She runs into her dad’s legs and wraps her little arms around them.

“Happy birthday!” It’s the fourth time she’s told him this today and he knows it won’t be the last.

“Thank you, baby girl.”

“See?” Luke says, nudging his dad. “You have a baby. You’re not old.”

Eliza’s face goes from gleeful to rueful.

“‘M not a baby!”

“Excuse me, miss.” Luke bows to her before snatching the toddler up into his arms. “I meant to say that Daddy has a young lady for a daughter.”

Placated by that explanation, Eliza nods her head once. “Better.”

As you walk into the living room, a minute later than Eliza due to her rapid speed, Luke gestures to you with one hand while the other one supports his little sister.

“And look! You have a wife who is in her twenties.”

Eddie’s tongue pokes out of the side of his lips, internally trying to decide if that fact makes him feel better or worse. He does have a young, hot wife. But does that make him feel young as well or does he just feel each and every day of those eleven years between the two of you?

“See! Mama is young!” Eliza says.

“Are they ganging up on you, honey?” You playfully pout as you approach your husband’s side.

“Luke’s ready to check me into a nursing home,” he gripes.

“Why you need a nurse?” Eliza asks.

“He doesn’t,” you say before Luke gets a chance to be a wiseass. “Daddy takes care of himself and all of us. Right, Lize?”

“Yeah!”

“Are we ready to go?” Ryan asks, waltzing into the room as he pats his flat stomach. “I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you have a bowl of cereal an hour ago?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “An hour ago.”

Eddie sighs, remembering the days when he too was a teenager and could inhale food all day and keep that small waist of his. As if able to read his mind, you slip your arm around your husband’s middle and give it a small squeeze.

“Alright gang,” Eddie says, “let’s head out.”

After you all return home, Eliza isn’t nearly as excited about cake as she was before. Her head rests on your shoulder, soft whines coming out of her mouth as you carry her into the house.

“We told you not to eat too much ice cream,” you say.

“Daddy said I could,” she groans.

The restaurant gave Eddie a free ice cream sundae for his birthday and he invited all of you to share it with him. The boys, of course, had room even after finishing off their dinner plates completely. But Eliza’s tiny tummy was already decently full of her noodles before she picked up a giant spoon and started scooping the vanilla dessert into her mouth.

“But you had too much.” You press a kiss to her curls before setting her down on the couch.

Eddie hangs his keys on the hook by the door before coming over and wrapping his arms around you.

“Thank you for a nice dinner, princess.”

You smile up at him and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Daddy?” Eliza asks.

“What’s up?”

She pushes herself to sit up straighter and tucks her legs beneath her.

“How old you now?”

He gives her a small smile as he drapes his arm across your shoulders.

“40.”

“Whoa.” Eliza’s eyes widen comically. It’s hard for you to keep your laugh in. “That’s big number. I don’t think we got enough candles for the cake me and Ryan made.”

This time you have to turn your head to the side and hide your smile in Eddie’s armpit.

Thankfully, Ryan is able to assure Eliza that they don’t need to put the whole 40 candles on the cake. With a gaggle of offbeat singing surrounding him, Eddie smiles and closes his eyes to think of a wish. Apparently, he takes too long for his daughter’s liking. She sighs, naturally dramatic as always, and everyone else laughs.

Eddie is able to blow out all the candles in one go and you cut the cake, giving pieces to your two sons who are eyeing the confection with glee. You’re unable to keep from snorting in amusement at their never-ending hunger and you take a seat next to Eddie to eat your own piece. Deciding to power through it, Eliza manages to eat half off a slice before she lays across her dad’s lap, hands holding her once again full belly.

The perk to her being so full is that it’s easier to wrangle her into her pajamas and under her covers. With one last wish of a happy birthday to Eddie, he presses a kiss to her forehead and her eyes begin to flutter closed.

The boys aren’t far behind. Whether or not they’re going to sleep, you’re not sure. But as long as they’re in their rooms you’re happy. Because you have one last surprise for Eddie today.

You come up behind him as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it out of the denim loops on his black jeans. His shirt raises up slightly and you take advantage, slipping your hands beneath the fabric, letting your nails gently scratch over his pale skin. Eddie starts to unzip his pants and you press trailing kisses across his shoulder blade.

“Baby?” Eddie steps forward out of your grasp and turns around to face you. “I’m pretty tired.”

A frown creases your brow. Eddie has every right in the world to be too exhausted to fool around and just want to climb into bed, but you’re not buying that’s really the case right now.

“Okay,” you say softly, stepping forward and gently cupping his face in your hands. “We can just lay down and cuddle if you want. But something tells me you’ve got something on your mind.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, Eddie sighs and steps backward out of your hands, and takes a seat on the foot of your bed. You move to stand in front of him and gently card your fingers through his bangs resting against his forehead. He rests one hand on your hip and appears deep in thought for a few minutes.

“I just…” he finally says. “I just feel like the older I get the more pronounced our age difference is.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting that to be what’s on his mind.

“Hey.” Gently, you take his chin between your thumb and forefinger and lift his head so he’s looking you in the eye. “So what?”

Eddie’s brow furrows and he looks at you, skepticism dancing across his face.

“What do you mean ‘so what?’”

“That exactly. So what if you look like you’re forty and I look like I’m twenty-eight? Those are our ages. Just like you looked thirty-two when we got together and I looked twenty. And how in thirty years you’ll look seventy and I’ll look fifty-eight. What does it matter? Do you really think I give a shit what anyone else thinks? The only two people in this marriage are you and me, buddy.” You grab his shoulder and gently shake him back and forth. “I knew how many years apart we were when we got together. When I married you. When I had a baby with you. You think I would’ve stuck around all this time if I had doubts about our age difference? No way, baby. You’re stuck with me. Even when I get gray hair and all.”

A finger absentmindedly brushes against Eddie’s temple as you speak. Your husband stiffens, connecting the dots between your words and where you touched him.

“I have gray hair?” He jumps up and scurries to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room.

“What?” A heavy sigh deflates your body as you realize the conclusion he jumped to. “No, Eddie. You don’t have any gray hair.” His inspection in the mirror bothers you, so you walk forward and manage to squeeze between him and the mirror. “But even if you did, you’d still be the sexiest man I’ve ever met.”

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t feel forty,” he whispers to you. “I feel like a kid still.”

“Well, you are a big kid,” you tease, managing to pull a small smile out of him. Relieved to see him feeling a bit lighter, you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck. “And besides, I think I’m the last person in the world you have to convince that you’re still young.”

“And why’s that?” he asks.

Giving him a suggestive smirk, you lean in until your lips ghost against his.

“Because,” you whisper, “of how nice and good you fuck me.”

A low groan reverberates from your husband’s chest and he pulls you flush up against his body.

“Yeah?” His voice is dripping in lust. “You like how I make you feel, princess? How hard I pound that tight little pussy of yours?”

“Uh huh,” you whimper before pressing your lips against his.

Eddie’s fingers dig into your hips as you walk him backward towards the bed. When the back of his knees hit the mattress, all it takes is a small push from you to have him falling onto his back. His eyes are dark with need as he watches you tug his open jeans down his legs. The two of you work together as he yanks his shirt off over his head and you tear his boxers off.

As you fall to your knees between Eddie’s thighs, he sits up enough to pull your top off as well. Once you’re free of the offending fabric, you take Eddie’s cock in your hand. You move it up and down slowly, feeling him harden in your grip.

“Fuck,” Eddie growls.

On a swipe down you lean in and press a kiss to the tip. The resulting moan from your husband sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. You pump his cock a few more times before you can’t hold off any longer and have to take him into your mouth.

“Yes,” Eddie hisses.

You run your tongue along the underside of his length, making sure to keep eye contact with him the entire time. The way he watches you with lust-blown eyes and his chest rises and falls in rapid succession with his shallow breaths has you squeezing your thighs together.

You start to bob your head up and down, taking him a little deeper each time. He becomes impossibly harder in your mouth. A large hand gently cups the side of your head and pulls you off of him. The way you whine in protest makes Eddie chuckle darkly.

“Sorry, baby,” he says. “Feels too damn good, though. Need you up here.”

He helps you to your feet and shed the rest of your clothes. Eddie shuffles back towards the pillows, eyes taking in your every movement as you crawl up towards him. When he moves to sit up, you put your hand on his shoulder and push him back down.

“You just lay there,” you coo, lifting one leg to straddle across his thighs. “Rest those old bones and let me take care of you.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, playfully glaring at you and the shit-eating grin on your face.

“Fine,” he challenges. Eddie raises his arms and laces his fingers together behind his head. “Get going.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You line him up with your entrance and slowly lower yourself onto him. The two of you moan in tandem, the feeling of being united insanely pleasurable.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you start to rock your hips back and forth. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and bites at his bottom lip. His fingers dig at the back of his head, digging into his scalp to keep from caving and grabbing ahold of your body.

Sensing his resolve breaking, you rest your hands on his chest and lean in to speak softly.

“What do you think, Eddie?” you croon. “Want to get me nice and knocked up on your birthday?”

“Shit.”

Your words snap the last bit of restraint he was holding onto and his hands fly to your hips, helping your body move against his.

“Come on, handsome,” you continue through labored breaths, “fill me up with your cum.”

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie huffs a laugh and tilts his head up, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fucking forty now, I should be able to last longer than this.”

“You forget I know how to push your buttons.”

“Mm?” Eddie looks back down at you, raising an eyebrow as you bounce on his cock. “You mean like this?”

A ringed hand slides between your body and rubs quick circles over your clit.

“Fuck!” You bite down on your lip, attempting to keep your voice low.

“Let’s go, princess. Want you to come with me.”

Unable to respond in any articulate way, you nod your head and hum incoherently. With one hard flick against your clit, the coil in you snaps. Your head falls forward, your jaw hanging open as your high washes over you. The way you clench around Eddie has him following right behind you, the two of you rutting against one another as you ride out your orgasms.

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans as both of your bodies begin to come down.

Suddenly boneless, you flop down against Eddie’s chest and he instinctively wraps an arm around you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and lets his heavy eyes close.

“I love you so fucking much,” you mumble against his chest, slightly sticky with sweat.

Eddie breathes a chuckle and rubs his hand up and down your back.

“How are you so perfect?” he asks.

Now it’s your turn to laugh.

“I’m going to remind you that you said that next time you get all grumpy over me making fun of your age.”

Before you have time to process his movements, Eddie grips your waist and flips the two of you, smirking down at you as he settles his weight against your body.

“I’ll just have to keep proving how well I can fuck you then,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Is that supposed to discourage me?”

[arcadia-smith]

You were curled up on the couch, Bucky’s metal arm wrapped around your shoulders as the TV played some old movie neither of you were really paying attention to. It had been a long day, filled with missions and training, and this—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other—was the best way to unwind.

Your fingers idly traced patterns over the back of his hand, and after a few moments of comfortable silence, you spoke.

"What's your favorite thing about me?"

Bucky hummed, tilting his head slightly as if deep in thought. He turned to face you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Probably your smile."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. "Seriously?"

His grin widened. "Okay, fine." He shifted closer, voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "I love how you can kill a man in only two seconds."

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s what you love about me?"

He shrugged, a teasing glint in his steel-blue eyes. "It's impressive."

Rolling your eyes, you nudged him. "So, not my intelligence? My stunning good looks? My charming personality?"

Bucky smirked. "Oh, those are great too. But watching you take down a guy twice your size? Kind of hot, doll."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You’re impossible."

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And you’re lethal. Perfect match, don’t you think?"

With a grin, you pulled him closer. "Yeah, I think so too."

[adoresia]

꣑ৎ contains ★ Fluff ft Satoru Gojo :: dad gojo , domestic fluff , comfort moments , gojo is acting like a man child , light humour . W/C ★ 0.4k

˙🧷 ̟ Sia here ! :: Based off of this request from @alixezae !! Sorry for the long wait 😣 Had to put these in queued order because tumblr hates me apparently but I could never forget thank you very much for the request 😋😋😋 also not really a part two of morning monologue but still.

˙🏷️ ̟ Satoru’s masterlist | JJK masterlist | Main masterlist

Satoru was sat on the couch, his baby nestled against his chest, small fists clinging to his shirt. His normally smug grin was nowhere to be found — replaced instead with a dramatic pout as he watched you move around the room, effortlessly drawing the baby’s attention without even trying. You must be wondering how we got here.

It had been weeks since he’d noticed the shift. At first he thought of it as a silly coincidence. Babies went through phases right? But this definitely was not a phase. Your baby loved you in a way that made him feel like he wasn’t even there, you could say. It left THE Gojo satoru — the most charismatic person in existence — relegated to the sidelines.

He tried everything. From silly faces to floating toys. Peekaboo could only go so far — nothing seemed to work. His precious baby would giggle politely and act humoured for a few seconds, but then immediately looked out for you again.

It was funny at first but now it’s humiliating, Satoru would say its not fair how much his baby gave you so much attention so much that eventually it made you wonder if you gave birth to two big babies instead of just one.

“You’ve bewitched him,” he muttered, his voice low and accusatory. You glanced over your shoulder, brow raised. “Satoru- What are you talking about?”

“Satoru junior,” he gestured dramatically to the tiny bundle on his chest “We were supposed to be each others number one fan. But he treats me like some guy at the park trying to lure little kids into the back of his van with dorritos.”

“Firstly, I dont remember agreeing on such a name. Secondly, You kinda do” you teased, leaning down to press a kiss to your baby’s head. “But I guess he just loves me more.”

Your baby babbled in agreement.

Satoru groaned flopping back onto the couch like the weight of the world had just crushed him. “This is betrayal on the highest level.”

Before you could respond your baby stirred, letting out a soft — sleepy whimper. And without missing a beat, Gojo shifted them against his shoulder while his hand instinctively pat his back in gentle, rhythmic motions.

You watched as the tension melted from his face, replaced by something softer and more genuine. Your little baby’s tiny hand clung to his shirt, his breathing evened out as he drifted back to sleep.

Satoru looked up at you, his expression smug once more. “See? I’ve still got it.”

“That was a pity nap,” you said grinning.

“Stop trying to steal my credit,” he huffed.

And as your baby nestled closer to him, Gojo decided that maybe being second place wasn’t so bad — especially when it came with moments like these.

[followtheechoes]

earplugs are important!

this chart is from the rcgp website. it looks very similar to the one my instructor gave us in a course I took in college on bioacoustics and hearing aid technology. the risk of hearing loss with normal everyday sounds goes up with the amount of time you spend listening with no protection.

if you need a less scientific explanation and a more personal one instead, consider this:

my dad has had tinnitus longer than I've been alive and he has difficulty in crowded restaurants because the ambient noise of the radio and people talking is at just the right frequency to cause him pain. his hearing loss was from standing right next to a speaker at a concert when the mic started giving feedback. my mum has bad hearing for unrelated reasons but she told me she was sure all the concerts didn't exactly help. I have spent my entire life translating conversations between my parents because they keep having conversations while they're in seperate rooms and mishearing everything the other says. if my mum is sick there's basically no point in talking to her without shouting. my dad has a hard time being around small kids because the sound of them screaming or laughing is at just the right pitch to hurt, and I deliberately made my voice lower as I grew up because I knew high pitched sounds were painful, especially close to him. I learned early to communicate face to face, because if I have a conversation with either of my parents without them being able to read my lips (say, if we're in the kitchen fixing ourselves lunch), they'll assume it isn't important or mishear. I love my parents, and this has it's benefits (I'm better at talking to seniors, I'm more confident saying things directly to people in as few words as possible, I'm good at mediating between people who aren't understanding each other). I'm just saying that if you don't want this to be your/your children's life, and you go to a lot of concerts, please do look into hearing protection.

my mum got hearing aids at 55 and needed them for years before that (see: my entire childhood), and she was amazed at how much better things were for her. hearing aid technology has improved to an insane degree. she has a streamer which connects to her phone via bluetooth, so she can listen to music whenever she wants and no one will know. she told me she turns up the volume when her office is quiet and people are gossiping so she doesn't have to get involved but she still knows what's going on. she has a tiny, subtle microphone that can attach to her clothes or be placed nearer to the person she needs to hear, and when covid hit and her office started getting glass dividers, she was able to place her microphone on the other side of the divider and hear her clients. she's has told me what a relief it is not to have to nod along and hope she's laughing at the right moments. it's been ridiculously cool watching her step out of her comfort zone and get back into music as well.

my point being, hearing loss is not the end of your life, but it will make things different and more difficult, so please protect your hearing while you can!

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Twelve

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

warnings: biting, injury, blood

Series masterlist

In a shirt too big for your body, you sat up in bed. There was a man on either side of you, keeping you safe and warm. You had never been so happy. 

Max laid down first, arms behind his head as he waited for you and Charles to join him. Charles scooted down the bed, laying his head on his pillow. "Come on, Birdy girl," he said and patted the space beside him. 

You laid down, wiggling around until you were comfortable. Even then, something wasn't right. You continued to wiggle, continued to be unhappy. 

Max released a huff. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, halting your movements. 

At your happy chirp, a grin grew on Charles's face.  "You like that?" He asked as he brushed his fingers over your cheek and held you chin. "Can I kiss you, Birdy?" 

Desperately, you shuffled closer to him. You pressed you lips to his, ass still pressed against Max as he held you. There was nothing sexual about it, laying against both of them at once. 

It was easy to find sleep, nestled in the warmth and safety they provided. Your mouth was open, releasing tiny snores and a little bit of drool. 

"Max," Charles whispered, watching to see if you wake up. You didn't, eyes firmly shut. God, you were adorable. 

Max stared at him across the bed. His thumb brushed over your stomach absentmindedly. It must have been tickling but you didn't react. 

Fast asleep between them, where you were supposed to be. 

"She's perfect," Max mumbled as he stared at you. He was right, you were. 

Max reached over and kissed Charles. It was only quick, neither of them wanting to wake you up. 

They laid down on either side of you, holding you and each other. 

***

Arms around you, closing you in. Too hot. Too hot. Too hot. You had to get away. You had to free yourself from whatever was holding you back. 

Growls left your lips. You tried to open your eyes but they were clamped shut. You struggled and struggled and struggled. 

Your throat vibrated with each growl. You had no control as your claws came out, scratching at whatever held you back, digging into someones skin. 

Your teeth, long and sharp, sank down into flesh, drawing blood. 

The thing before you cried out, but those cries fell on death ears. You shook and withdrew your teeth, ready to bite again. 

Pain in your neck. Your eyes flew open as your body went rigid. "Birdy!" The person holding your neck shouted. 

You went limp in their hold, unable to do anything but stare. Blood against flesh. It was a horrible sight, an even more horrible taste in your mouth. 

Tears filled your eyes, hot and uncontrollable. This wasn't the first time you had been scruffed, not by a long shot. But you always had this same reaction. It always pulled tears from your eyes as you laid there, helpless. 

Only, this time, someone held you. 

"Hey, hey, hey," Max whispered as he released your neck. "You're okay, Birdy. You're safe." 

You whimpered as you tried to regain control of your limbs. 'You were safe. You didn't need to lash out.' 

Lips touched your shoulder. "You're okay, Birdy. Sweet, sweet Birdy." 

You knew that voice. It brought you back to yourself. Max. It was Max. As soon as you released it was him, you withdrew your claws from his arm and released a whimper. 

You didn't mean it. You needed them them to know that you didn't mean it. 

The light switched on and you shut your eyes. Too harsh, too bright. "Shit, Charles," you heard Max whisper, but you couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes and investigate. 

"It's okay," Charles said quickly. When his hands touched your face, you flinched away. "Oh, Birdy," he whispered. 

Suddenly, Max sat up behind you. You curled in on yourself, as if you were trying to hide from them. But there was no hiding once the blankets were pulled back. 

Max climbed out of the bed. "First aid kit," he said, voice hurried as he waited for Charles's response. 

"Bathroom," he said and Max ran in the direction of the bathroom. 

You dared to open one eye. 

Blood. Blood everywhere. It ran down Charles's arm and dripped from his fingers. The taste on your teeth when you ran your tongue over them. Charles's blood. 

Shuffling back, you fell from the bed. You has no control as your body changed, tearing your clothes as you because a wolf. 

"Birdy!" Charles cried you were gone, disappearing into the living room. You ran into the kitchen and curled up beneath the table. Your face was hidden in the fluff of your tail as you whimpered. 

A few moments later, the light overhead turned on. You stayed hidden, stayed quiet, hoped they would leave you alone. You did something bad and you needed to be punished. 

"Birdy?" 

Why did you agree to this? Why did you agree to put Max and Charles in so much danger. 

"Birdy girl, where are you?" 

A chair was moved out of the way as Max joined you beneath the table. His fur was just as soft as your own, no doubt brushed out by Charles. 

You lifted your tail just enough to look at him. Sitting tall and proud, looming over you. You whimpered in submission and resisted the urge to role over and show your belly.

"Birdy," Charles called again. "Can you come out here so we can talk?" 

Still, you didn't move. From under your tail you saw the beginnings of a bandage on his arm, red seeping through. All because of you. Your tail fell back over your eyes. 

Max released something between a whine and a growl. It wasn't harsh, didn't send fear through you. He grabbed your tail between his teeth, not enough to cause you any harm, and moved it from over your eyes. 

You looked up at him and attempted to move away. But Max moved his tongue over your head, smoothing down your fur. He curled himself around you as he continued to groom you, to soothe you. 

"I know you didn't mean to do it, Birdy," Charles whispered as he moved a chair out of the way. "You're not used to sleeping in a bed with other people, are you?" 

You shook your head and Max nudged you, pushing you closer to Charles. You went willingly. 

"I never should have pushed you so far, Birdy," he whispered and reached out to smooth out your fur. Wet from where Max had been grooming you. "This is all my fault."

'No!' You wanted to cry, stepping towards him. 'No it's not your fault, Charles!' You sat yourself in his lap and settled your head on his chest, hoping that told him everything you wanted to say. 

He scratched under your chin and your tail thumped against his leg. "You wanna stay as a wolf for a little bit?" He asked and you tried your best to nod your head. "Okay, Birdy girl." 

Charles hummed as he held you. He scratched under your chin and behind your ears, his laugh filling the kitchen when your tail started moving. You couldn’t help when you tail went around and around like a propeller on a helicopter, giving away just how happy you were. 

"Wanna move somewhere more comfortable, Birdy?" 

You climbed from Charles's lap and followed him into the living room. Max walked behind you, the vigilant wolf watching over and protecting his pack. Even with Charles still human, the pack instincts felt natural. 

As soon as Charles sat down and switched on the television, you jumped onto the sofa with him. Your instincts took over as you walked into a circle and settled down on his stomach. 

He didn't complain with your full weight on top of him, didn't complain when Max joined you. He settled behind you, curling around you. It was a tight squeeze, but you made it work. 

"Putain oui!" Charles cried as he flipped through the channels. He landed on one of the Harry Potter movies, you couldn't tell which one. "My favourite," he explained and scratched behind your ear. 

You tried to watch it, you really did. But Max was asleep beside you, snoring gently. The sound wasn't as annoying as you expected, the rise and fall of his chest comforting against your furry back. 

The three of you fell asleep with the television turned on. Still on the sofa, you slept against Charles with Max behind you. At some point in the night, both you and Max turned back, but you wouldn't know until you woke up.

a/n: sorry for the long wait! i've had this in my drafts for a week, but its been a WEEK

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[fanzou]

Here's an idea? The OP guys. Sanji, Zoro, Law, (separately, of course) with a reader who has a crush on them, and they KNOW IT. (But nobody else does) So he just messes with her and gets her to blush, as his was of saying that he likes her too.🤭

Big, Fat, Crush

✗ Pairing(s): Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader, Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader, Law Trafalgar x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: What do they do knowing you have a crush on them?

✗ CW: Reader is wearing a dress in Zoro's first half, Teasing... and it's RUTHLESS, Law makes reader cry but he makes up for it, it gets a little suggestive at the of Sanji's part [Let me know if I missed any]

✗ Total WC: Zoro’s Ver. (1.8K), Law’s Ver. (2.3K), Sanji’s Ver. (1.3K)

✗ A/N: Wow. If you couldn't tell I loved writing this. I didn't intend for it to get so long but here it is! Enjoy love.

ZORO RORONOA

“You want me to get you any more sake, Zoro?”

“Yeah sure, thanks.”

The bar is crowded, but not so much that it was unbearable. You and Zoro found yourselves at the little table across from each other in the very back of the room catching up and debriefing about today’s events. But the day wasn’t so very eventful, otherwise he’d probably be drunk by this point to alleviate and level himself. He liked to really enjoy the end of his day like this. It was a good day.

You were tipsy, but he on the other hand, always held his alcohol well.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow before we leave the island?” You ask him, he liked the silence between you two, even in a rowdy bar, but he didn’t hate when you talked to him either. You asked all the right questions, you weren’t obnoxiously dumb like the rest of the crew, even when you were under the influence.

“Not too sure yet. I didn’t get the time to check out what they had with your excessive clothes shopping.” He says so nonchalantly, taking a sip of the drink you got him.

You pout with your brows furrowed, cute, “I did not buy that many clothes!”

“It probably felt that way ‘cause I was carryin’ the bags all damn day.” He grinned at you, a mischievous one.

You roll your eyes at him, but then giggle into your own drink, “You’re insufferable.”

He doesn’t miss the way you blush at his harmless teasing.

He never does.

-

So…

You end up a little more drunk than anticipated.

And you can’t for the life of you remember what you did last night. Your head was pounding, like, real life pounding through your skull almost like it was angry for you being so reckless just a few hours ago.

But to your relief, your back on the ship, clothes from last night still on and somewhat in tact— a little wrinkled, and your dress was ridden up a bit more than you were comfortable with. You pull it down immediately in embarrassment. Hopefully Zoro didn’t see that. Anyway, you scope out the girl’s quarters to see that Nami and Robin weren’t anywhere to be seen, and there was none of the usual liveliness in the ship that you knew and loved, no running footsteps, bangs, booms, nothing. Assuming that the green-haired man probably took you back to the ship in your drunken state and took his own personal stroll into the small town at the island, you relaxed.

But you were probably gonna get an earful from the crew since Zoro had a tendency to get lost.

Your shame settles in, and you mentally curse at yourself for being so reckless when the team counted on you for being the more careful one of the two. But something about his energy was so comforting, and you felt so safe around him. The fact that he safely took you back to the ship was living proof of that and you got a little flustered at the thought.

How did he carry you back? Bridal? On top his shoulder? Were you faced forwards or back? Maybe not even carried at all, just arm slung around his shoulder— Whatever the case, the thought of the close proximity made you nervous to think about.

To your astonishment you hear a knock on the door to the shared room. “Come in!” You say, your head immediately punishing you for it.

To your surprise, Zoro opens the door, and comes in. He closes the door before he faces you. “You feelin’ alright? You kinda got a little ahead of yourself.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I have the worst head ache of all time.” Your head is in your hands and your hair looks ten times more disheveled than it did when you woke up. You fight the feeling of discomfort and look up at him through messy stands of hair, “What, you’re not going back to enjoy your time with out me? I wouldn’t be so offended.”

He thinks to himself for a moment,

“I was waiting for you to get up.” His arms are crossed onto his chest now. His words are so effortless when he makes your heart jump.

“Zoro, it’s gonna take me a long time to get ready, how ‘bout you just go on ahead?”

You push away the hair covering your face to get a good look at his; his expression is borderline unreadable. It looks foreign on him.

It was all-knowing, it was up to no good. And you can only imagine what that meant.

“I’ll wait.”

-

So, Zoro waited the hour and a half for you to get ready, even though it meant that most of the day was already wasted. He insisted on taking you with him to the town you guys went to only yesterday, stating that it was simply because the crew wouldn’t let him hear the end of it had you both separated. It’s funny though, because you could swear that he was moving a bit differently than he was just yesterday. Whether good or bad, it was off-putting nonetheless. You’ve never seen him act this way.

After dabbling in his fair share of store-visiting to try to tie with yours (Spoiler: he did not.), it was already sunset, and he wanted to go to the bar, but you insisted that you didn’t want a repeat of last night. In his surprising obedience, he listened. You did, however, both meet in the middle for a late night food-grab and settled on a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. You and Zoro quickly ordered and waited for the delicious meals that you knew you both were going to absolutely demolish.

You finally relaxed your form into the seat, taking advantage of the comfort you felt after walking around all day. You hardly exchanged a few words since you got into the restaurant, presumably because of how much time you spent together all day, so it was a surprise when Zoro opened his mouth to finally speak.

“Y’know, you talk a lot when you’re drunk.”

You halt in your comfort, God, you thought he was gonna forget about this already. Zoro teased you a lot but since you got on this island, it’s easily become relentless. And whatever your shenanigans were about last night were ground for it now.

In an effort to move away from the topic, “Hmm… yeah, don’t we all? Amirite? I’ve heard you say some crazy stuff when you were black-out drunk!” You laughed, lightly slapping the table to emphasize how “funny” it was. He seemed unfazed though, if anything, a little more confident in the words he would utter. His head was resting on his on the palm of his hand now, and that same smirk from earlier returned.

“Guessing none of them were love declarations, huh?”

Time stopped, save for your heart dropping down to your asshole.

Your eyes were wide, and you were praying to God that you misinterpreted the insinuation of what he just said.

“W-What do you mean?” He seemed so fascinated by the situation unraveling between the two of you, his grin never faltering. It was shocking, Zoro never really talked this much about nonsense, if you could call it that.

He chuckles at your shock almost sadistically, “You tried kissing my face the entire night and kept telling me how handsome I was, and how much you lo—”

“STOP!” Your hand not so subtly smacks his mouth shut, and the staff gives you both a weird look.

Great, now I’m making it everyone’s business!

You slowly remove your hand and try to avert your gaze elsewhere, while still fending for yourself. “I’m j-just a loving drunk... I-I guess…” The embarrassment is getting to be too much now, and whatever what you say at this point is just going to look like a lie, a big fat lie. And you wanna crawl into the nearest hole and die there. How can you even face the crew anymore? How can you look at him in the eye? Where’s the nearest exit so you can just run far, far away from him?! It seems like you’re plotting for the rest of how your life is gonna be from this point on, until he puts an end to your thoughts.

“C’mon woman. Get real. Why don’t you just face up to it? I see the way you look at me all the time. Drunk or not.” Zoro is leaned all the way back in his chair when you look up, his arms are crossed just how they were this morning. And you just want to melt into your chair at this point. Get away from anything and every thing that exists. Especially Zoro, if it wasn’t obvious. “God, you're naive, naive as hell.”

Embarrassment subsided for a moment, you sit there with your brows furrowed, now trying to piece together his new and probably much more embarrassing revelation. “…What? Why do you say that?”

He scoffs at you, “Y’Really gonna make me say it?”

What?

Zoro was never the articulate type and you respected that, but if there was an instance where you really hated his lack of speech; It was now.

For a split second, he looks a little conflicted on what he was going to say next. Like he was fighting the next words to come out of his mouth, his arms twitch a bit and he lets out a little sigh, shaking his head in what looks like defeat. But before you can say anymore; he gets out of his comfortable position, leans toward you and over the small table, grabs your shirt and…

Kisses you.

It was short, but Zoro thought he was going to die inside trying to build up the courage to say I love you instead. And this, this was so much better.

He would’ve mistook you for a tomato across from him when you sit back from his attack on your lips. He’s a little flustered himself, he does well to mask it, but it was worth your reaction. And since it was late at night the restaurant was almost dead at that point, with you both once again, sitting in the very back. So he wasn’t too crazy about who was watching.

“I’m… I… Um…” you’re trying so hard to get your words together. What the hell just happened. “I…”

Before you can say anything, you eat your words again. The server comes with your long anticipated dinner. He chooses to disregard the absolute mess you look, and some of your lipstick on Zoro’s mouth— and puts your food down onto the table.

“Enjoy you two lovebirds! My, what a beautiful couple you both make!”

LAW TRAFALGAR

The Polar Tang was full of energy today. In the dining hall, the crew sat down and talked the night away.

Penguin and Shachi were laughing it up and finding comfort in their drinks, you and Ikkaku talked about personal affairs over the amazing meal you shared, then Bepo joined in and you three all got a little too into some dumb gossip amongst another pair in the crew.

Safe to say everyone was having the night of their life. Something the Heart Pirates couldn’t do a lot.

All except your captain.

Always buried in his books and studies, Law claims that he wish he could have time to spend with you all, blasé blasé bla, but there was always an excuse that was thrown in your faces. Always. You respected his time and effort, it was something that not a lot of people could do.

So that’s why after your conversation with your friends was drawn to an end and they either resorted to drinking with the rest of the crew or just enjoying more talk, you decided to slip away for a moment. You didn’t know what possessed you to do this, (you did, you just wanted an excuse) but you fix up another plate and swiftly make your way towards your captains room. The food was delicious so, why not? What’s the harm?

The closer you got to his door is the more an anxiety rose in your chest, and your hands were getting a little shaky. There was nothing to be nervous about!

Just maybe seeing his handsome face focused so strongly on a certain text, the way his rough, calloused hand grips the pen so gently, or your favorite part— his parted and unbuttoned shirt, where you can see a window of his chest, not a lot but just enough to leave some imagination to how the rest of his tattooed body might look... And you stop yourself for a second, physically and mentally.

I’m being such a pervert right now.

You resume your slow and anything but steady walk to his quarters and you finally meet face to face with the door.

You pull your first up to knock after taking a very deep breath, but before your skin could touch the surface his voice is already urging you to step inside. And so you obey.

Once inside you immediately start to scan the sight before you, and it wasn’t much different from the one you had in your imagination. Of course this meant that you were a bit flustered coming to him, but you manage, “‘Just wanted to drop off some food for you, in case you couldn’t join us tonight.” You say with a little softness in your tone.

“Thank you. You can put it down on my desk.”

And you obey, again. Walking up to his desk full of papers and books/ You realize that it was a little messy and not clean enough to set the plate just anywhere, and his hands scramble through the paper to find a place for you to set the plate down until you finally do. Then, another thought emerges from your fantasy world.

“Do you need help organizing your desk, cap? I have some time and I don’t really feel like going to sleep anyways.”

He smiles softly at you and calls your name in a way that you wish you could hear over and over and over again, and he thanks you once more, “You’ve done enough for me tonight. I appreciate it.” You hide your disappointment in his words, but nod and make your way to the door anyway.

You exchanged your good night’s and make your way to your room. And when you fall back on your bed, you take your pillow and scream into it like a crazed schoolgirl in love.

-

The next morning comes, and you can guarantee that the crew has already started on breakfast. You rub your eyes and start to get cleaned up and fetch a new pair of clothes for the day.

Once you’re all freshen up, you make your way to the dining hall, surprised to hear no ruffling and noise. Maybe everyone was suffering the consequences of last nights drinking challenges, you thought. But even so, it wouldn’t be this quiet.

Your met with Law’s figure in the dining hall and he’s making tea for himself. He notices you, “You’re up really early.”

“Did you even get a wink of sleep?” You say in concern.

He’s silent for a few seconds, and he makes his way to the table to enjoy his freshly brewed drink. “I couldn’t.” Or more like he wouldn't.

You sigh, yup, that was your captain. You thought for a second, thinking about what you could do in order for him to feel better about his own consequences from a lack of sleep. But you know he would just decline most of your suggestions. Instead, you plop yourself in the seat across from him. You both sit in a comfortable silence while you waited for your coffee to be made, and you take a second to scan his tired features.

He does well to hide it in his mannerism, but his face betrays him. You can tell he's deathly tired, and if he let's his eyes close for more than a second you're sure he'd plop right onto the table.

“Take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.”

You blink, and you blink again. “O-Oh, sorry…” he’s not offended, if anything his face is smug. You’re quick to defend yourself with a little scoff, “Can’t a woman be worried for her captain? You don’t look the best anyway.” You quickly cover your mouth, seriously, how dumb did you have to be?

But he only laughs at your remark, he shakes his head and his smug expression does not leave his face. “It’s a little hard to not point out when you do it all the time.”

“I do not!”

“Do too.”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t what?” Shachi comes into the room completely oblivious to what you guys were bickering childishly about. He’s rubbing his eyes, “Why are you both up so early? Especially you,” he points at you, “You drank a lot.”

You roll your eyes, you hardly drank. And now you were a little embarrassed at his public revelation, (though it was a secret to nobody but Law,) and your face grows a little red.

The rest of the crew gets up one by one and soon enough breakfast is served. You barely pick up your head anymore out of shame of your earlier dispute, if you could even call it that, with your captain. Bepo is talking about something he encountered a while back while on an adventure with Law, usually you’d be invested, but you were far too in your zone.

And so you get up and make your way to your room, the gloominess practically radiating off of you. Your absence is barely noticed due to the focus everyone had on Bepo’s story.

Law notices, though.

He excuses himself and Bepo gets a little upset, but he understands and respects his captain, so he resumes his dramatic story that keeps everyone on the edge of their seat. You, on the other hand, were now face flat on your pillow mumbling self-deprecating comments to yourself after the terrible situation you were just in.

That was so embarrassing. My captain hates me. It’s so obvious. Why do I do this to myself. Why did I think that was okay. I’m going to escape. (You were under water) This is dumb. I’m du—

*Knock Knock*

You lift your head up even though you didn’t want to, “No.” is all you could manage.

“It’s your captain.”

As much as you wanted to tell him to piss off and let yourself drown in the shame you felt, you couldn’t. Because at the end of the day, it was as your captain proclaimed, though you wanted it to be much more, there was nothing you could do. Nothing, especially after today's consequences.

After a bit of hesitance and a lot of hurt in your voice, you tell him, “You can come inside.”

He cracks the door open a smidge to further observe your well-kept room and there you were, lying on your stomach with your arms crossed, face laying against them and your eyes away from his. It wasn’t the most appropriate sight for your captain to walk in on, but you two were close enough for him to get comfortable enough to let the door open and let himself all the way into your room.

He walks towards you and pulls a chair over, turns it around and manspreads against it to take his seat-- and you really wanted to take in the sight completely, but even that wasn’t enough to get your mood back up and running.

“You left.”

“Why do you care?” You turn your head the opposite way facing the wall beside you. Law doesn’t say anything for quite some time and you can almost bet on your tears slipping soon. He was making this so much more worse than it had to be.

He calls your name, and you just wanna melt into the soft fabric beneath you. “Look at me.”

You disobey.

After your reluctance to his order, he draws out a sigh. You always were the most stubborn of the crew. So with this, he thinks long and hard on his next words or actions, and finally lands on one possible outcome.

“You leave me no choice.”

“Wha— Law!” He turns you around by your waist and forces you up with just one hand. Then, before you know it, your body is slung across his broad shoulder while he finds his bicep tight around your thighs. You were facing backwards while he carried you. “Now you’re calling me by name, no captain anymore?" he laughs, "I think I’ve gone too soft on you.”

“What are you doing!?” You say, trying to get out of his grasp, but even with all of your strength, he was no match for you. “Someone will see!”

“No they won’t. I’m taking you to my room.” He opens the door in one swift motion and kicks it in another.

“And you’re not explaining why!” You hit his back in defiance. You were halfway through the corridor to meet his room already, so you just give up.

He takes no time in entering his room, finally putting you down and ordering you to sit on a spare seat in the grand environment. You were insanely nervous at this point, taken aback by his sudden action and the intimacy of it all. He’s peering down at you with a seriousness in his gaze that makes you put your head down in the worst shame you’ve felt since you’ve woken up.

You always thought that maybe, you might have had a chance with him one day. All that was thrown out the window now.

And it's time to swallow your pride. You take a deep breath, and build a whole lot of courage, and:

“I’m sorry, for saying that about you in the dining hall. And getting smart with you. And calling you by your first na—”

“You’re really stubborn, did you know that?”

And there it is, you feel the tears build up once again, and it hurts. Because the firmness in his voice is always the same. So demanding and... so difficult for you.

“And I don’t know why I’m attracted to you. I don’t understand why I tolerate the things you do.”

You start crying now, because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t know the sincerity of his words, and you hold yourself in the chair that you sat on, trying your best to look away from him.

He walks towards you and gets on his knees in front of you, It was a little bit of a blow to his own pride, and it wasn’t something he would do for anyone else at all. But you were different. You’re still crying and you weakly try pushing him away and looking to the side and the new guilt starts to form itself inside of him, but he insists that he stays where he is. He’s whispers an I’m sorry before his hands find solace on your jaw while both of his thumbs wipe your tears away. You look down at him with the most beautiful eyes he’s seen, your gaze softens at him and your crying calms down a little bit seeing that he wasn't so serious anymore, but instead his expression was a little desperate.

-- He’s still got a lot to make up for, and he knows now was not the time to press you on anything else— there was nothing to press anyways. You were perfect, in every aspect of the word. He just enjoyed the idea of teasing you, not anyone else, but he took it too far.

When he was sure that you were more comfortable in his arms, he pulled you down and pushed the chair away. He takes you in his embrace and whispers his apologies into your ear so genuinely.

“This wasn’t the way I thought this would go.” He lets the thousandth sigh out of his mouth today. You look into his eyes with a questioning expression, “I mean that, I fucked it up.”

It was your turn to feel guilty again, but you were tired of words.

You just take his face in your hands just as he did not so long ago, and you both look at each other for a moment. His eyes look to your lips for a second, and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was just as eager as you, maybe he was. His lips inch towards yours and they take no time in meeting.

It’s slow, soft, sensual. And it takes a while for your mouths to part. When they do, all you can do is stare at each other.

You finally breathe, “Okay,” you face turns to the side to escape his beautiful one.

“Maybe all of that was pretty worth it.”

SANJI VINSMOKE

You’ve been avoiding Sanji all week.

And he can’t decide if he should talk to you about it or not, he’s leaning more towards the latter, just because he’s too into the nervousness that suddenly appears on your face when you’re in close proximity. Then; you’re scrambling to the nearest door and half-assing an excuse about where you need to be or what you need to do.

He personally loves when it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner and he gets to not only cook your favorite meals and you can’t escape him, otherwise the crew would immediately worry for your absence. He also enjoys how embarrassed you get when you can feel him staring at you. Alas, he can’t stand the inability to talk to you and be in your unwanted presence anymore, he needed to make his move on you quick.

You see, earlier this week a battle occurred between you, Sanji, and an enemy that threatened the Thousand Sunny.

You and Sanji had both agreed to guard the ship while the rest of the crew had prepared their own duties on the foreign land, he insisted that there would be no good food supply and there was already enough stocked up from the last. It was a no-good devil fruit user, who wielded the ability to make its opponent confess a super big secret, to then throw them off completely, and defeat them. It was like a weak spot-- psychological warfare more so. And… he got you.

Can you guess what your secret was?

For certain, the devil fruit did its magic. And Sanji was surely taken aback, but adamant on defending the ship and more importantly, you, he did his part and tried with all his might to fight the bad guy off and made a mental note to immediately come find you afterwards.

You were close to passing out from shock after the bewildering confession, but when you came to, the blonde sat right beside you in a shit-eating grin, “So… you’re crushin’ on me, princess?” And you wanted to pass out again, but instead you just run for the ship and locking yourself in your room, ignoring his pleas to come back and talk about it.

Ever since that day, the atmosphere between you two had been a bit awkward. Conversations weren't as light and smooth, you tried finishing your food as fast as possible and managing a quick thank you before making a bee line to the girls room, and most importantly— everyone took notice of how distant you got from Sanji.

Usopp fell victim to the awkward encounters more often than the rest, and it was safe to say they were getting on his last nerve now. "Whatever you did, you should apologize, man!" He pats his back as a sign of encouragement. And for a second it almost felt like you and him were a married couple having problems, it brought a smile to his face.

Not to worry, he had a plan.

-

You joined Robin in a comfortable silence below the deck, praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear from the blonde cook while the sun set so beautifully. Your original ploy was to just act like it never happened, but anytime you saw him it was like re-imagining the entire scenario over and over again.

Your head is hanging off the chair while you doze off and Robin is reading her book— appreciating your silence, the weather was just a little windy and the sky had a nice orange and red gradient to it. The waves were crashing against the boat but it wasn’t overbearing, it was just fine.

You asked Robin to read her book out loud, even though you weren’t following the storyline, you found comfort in her melodic voice and how softly she read it and sure enough she would be lulling you to sleep soon.

But before you could finally reach sleep like you intended, there’s a presence you can sense, and Robin puts her beautiful voice to a halt. You don’t want to open your eyes but it almost seems like you have to.

And you immediately regretted it.

Above you was Sanji. “Hi.”

“Sanji!” He moves a little back from you, and you straighten your posture, wide awake. “I was just leaving actually, I have to clean the girls room! I lost a bet a while back. So… I’m gonna go do that.”

“I don’t think that bet ever happened but, I’m not entirely opposed to you doing that for us.” Robin says smugly. You loved her but the betrayal on your face spoke volumes in that moment.

You’re already defeated and you’re trying to muster up another shitty excuse, “We can’t delay this anymore than we have.” He takes your hand and you can only burn eyes at the skinship. You’re lightheaded again, just like that day you confessed.

And he drags you into the kitchen with him before you can defy him a hundred times over, he locks the door to slow down your escape, and if anyone came in on the two of you.

He finally turns around to look at you with the most frustrated expression littered all over his face.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks you in desperation, and you kinda wanted to slap him out of your own mixed emotions, because it was pretty obvious as to why. He catches on shortly after, “Okay, scratch that. Why is it necessarily a bad thing that you have feelings for me?”

“Please Sanji, let’s just forget about i—”

“How do I forget something like that? Why are we holding this off? Are we just never gonna talk about it?” You sense some repressed anger boiling up inside of him, and to tell the truth you’ve never seen him speak to any woman like this, so raw and nothing to hold back. “Listen, the cat’s out the bag, right? What’s the point in hiding it if we both feel this way about each other?”

…

…

…

“You… felt the same way… and you’re just now telling me this?” You walk towards him, he looks away in shame.

“It’s not about how you feel towards me, I’m just not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you.” You push him out of sheer frustration, and he just lets you.

Sanji assumes you’ll just use him as your personal punching bag at this point with the amount of self-deprecating thoughts he’s already throwing at himself in his head, but all of them were replaced once you took him by the shoulders and pulled him into a powerful kiss. He was in shock, but he quickly melted into it, grabbing you by both sides of your face, and you pull away.

“All you did was tease me and taunt me and put me over the edge these past few days, for what? Just to reveal that you wanted me too?” You scoff, but your lips betray you. You lean back into the kiss and it’s so much more passionate than before. His hands find comfort in your hips.

After the kiss got a little too passionate, and Sanji already making his move on your neck, you all but gave into him. So willingly.

“You locked the door, right?” You ask.

He grins into the quick kiss, excited by your insinuation, “Yeah.”

meanwhile, on the deck

Chopper quickly becomes your replacement for Robin, although not as quiet, she does equally enjoy her time with you both.

Choppers stomach gives him away, “Robin, I’m hungry. Do you know if Sanji’s making dinner soon?”

Robin smirks, and pats Chopper on the head.

“He’s busy with something right now, I think it would be best if we didn’t bother him, either.”

[hy6erion]

Uh, consider, if you will, JayVik x artists reader? Not sure if u wrote for JayVik so if not then just Viktor’s good too!!

But uh, I’ve been drawing for my whole life and I’m kinda ass at science and I just think it’d be neat to hang out in the lab with them and be,, entirely unhelpful

I’m making little doodles of characters or flowers and they’re making magic tools for the betterment of society (very cool)

Also, it seems to b common for artists characters to also paint but i mega hate painting cause it’s evil and, the worst ™️. I mostly work with markers

Also also, I think it would b very cute if the reader just doodled Jayce n Viktor n showed them after all proud of the drawing n stuff!!

Obviously u don’t have to include everything, I kinda rambled a bit here, but uh, yeah!

Hope ur doing good :))

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐢𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⍣✰..𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥��

⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐢𝐤, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐢 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟎 𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞. 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐢𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 ｡^‿^｡

𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎+ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

The lab had become something of a second home for y/n. Not because she had any business being there—Hextech and alchemical theory went straight over her head, and she was perfectly content to keep it that way—but because of them.

Jayce and Viktor were as different as fire and steel, the kind of contrast that made their arguments legendary and their rare moments of agreement dangerous. They bickered, they teased, they pushed each other to the edge, but beneath it all was something unshakable.

And Y/n had somehow found herself tangled in the middle of it.

The stool she sat on had long since become hers by default, wedged between Viktor’s usual seat and Jayce’s endless mess of blueprints. It put her right in the crossfire of their arguments, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

At the moment, Viktor was winning—at least, if the smug little curve of his mouth was any indication.

“Jayce, you must be at least somewhat familiar with the concept of precision.”

“Don’t start with me, Vik.”

Jayce was pacing again, shirt sleeves rolled up, hands running through his hair in frustration. The moment Viktor challenged him, he had to make a show of his suffering, like the world had personally wronged him. Y/n, who had been sketching the curve of Viktor’s jaw just moments before, sighed dramatically.

“Jayce, I’m begging you to sit down before you wear a hole in the floor.”

Jayce turned to her, looking personally offended. “Y/n, love of my life, have you seen what he’s making me deal with?”

Viktor barely looked up from his work. “Making you? I was under the impression you begged for my help.”

Jayce groaned, dropping into his chair with all the weight of a man carrying the world’s burdens. “I hate both of you.”

“You love both of us,” Y/n corrected, flipping to a fresh page.

“Tragically,” Viktor added dryly.

Jayce huffed. “This is abuse.”

“It is affection.” Viktor’s hand reached out absently, fingertips grazing Jayce’s wrist before returning to his work. It was a small thing, an automatic thing, but it made y/n’s heart clench just a little.

Because that was how they were. Not just words or dramatic declarations (though Jayce was particularly good at those), but the little things—familiar touches, the way they naturally fell into each other’s space, the comfort in their presence.

She sketched the moment without thinking.

Jayce, head tipped back, exasperated. Viktor, ever smug, hand still resting against him, fingers loose. The way their bodies leaned towards each other, even in irritation.

“You’re drawing us again,” Jayce accused, though there was no heat to it.

Y/n smirked, dragging her charcoal in long, confident strokes. “Can you blame me? You two make excellent muses.”

Viktor hummed, casting her a sidelong glance. “And which one of us is your favorite muse, I wonder?”

“Oh, don’t do this,” Jayce groaned.

“Oh, but I must.”

Y/n, to her credit, considered it. “Hmm. That depends.”

Viktor quirked an eyebrow.

“On?”

“On which of you is willing to pose shirtless for my next series.”

Jayce’s head snapped up immediately. “Oh, I volunteer.”

Viktor scoffed. “Of course you do.”

“Come on, Vik, don’t pretend you don’t like showing off,” Jayce said, leaning against him now, all broad weight and smug warmth. “I like when you show off.”

Y/n watched with barely concealed amusement as Viktor shot him a long, unimpressed look—but there was a flicker of something softer in his expression, something that told her Jayce’s words weren’t entirely unwelcome.

Jayce grinned, and before Viktor could protest, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his jaw, barely above his collar. It was quick, casual—something that had once been rare but had now become theirs. Viktor didn’t react, not visibly, but y/n caught the way his fingers stilled over his work for just a second.

It was moments like this that made her work impossible to put down.

“You two are ridiculous,” she said, though she was smiling.

“You love us,” Jayce echoed back at her, smug.

“Tragically,” Viktor deadpanned.

She laughed, shaking her head as she finally turned the sketchbook around. “Speaking of love—look.”

They did.

The pages were filled with them.

Viktor, hunched over his work, a lazy smirk on his lips. Jayce, mid-laugh, all wild joy. The way they moved around each other, the way they fit together, even when they were arguing. The way they looked at her.

And at the end—

All three of them.

Jayce, sprawled back, arms draped lazily over both of them, his usual warmth pulling them in. Viktor, against his side, head tipped slightly toward y/n, something softer there. And her, caught between them, exactly where she belonged.

There was silence.

Then Jayce exhaled. “Shit, that’s—”

“Perfect,” Viktor finished, voice quieter.

Y/n bit her lip. “Yeah?”

Jayce was already pulling her in, lifting her straight off the stool, laughing into her shoulder. “You’re insane, you know that? How did we end up with you?”

“You charmed me,” Y/n teased. “Or maybe Viktor did, I don’t know. He’s hard to resist.”

“I am,” Viktor agreed, flipping through the pages with something bordering on reverence. “And yet, it is you who captured us.”

Jayce pressed a kiss to her temple, grinning against her skin. “What do we have to do to get you to paint these?”

Y/n hummed. “Well… I do take payment in the form of physical affection.”

Jayce didn’t even hesitate before kissing her properly, pulling her into his chest with the ease of someone who knew she was his. Warmth, security, the unmistakable feel of home.

And then—before she could blink—Viktor’s hand curled against her jaw, tilting her just slightly. His kiss was softer, more controlled, but no less possessive. A silent claim, spoken through the press of lips and the steady grounding of his palm against her cheek.

When he pulled away, Jayce whistled low. “Damn.”

“Payment,” Viktor said simply.

Y/n was breathless. “That might be worth a series.”

Jayce groaned, flopping dramatically against the table. “Oh, great, now she’s inspired. We’ll never get her back.”

Viktor smirked, tugging y/n back onto his lap as she flipped through her sketchbook again.

“That,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “is a problem I am willing to have.”

[penn-dragon]

You’ve activated my trap card: infodumping my thoughts about Sanji’s fucked up relationship with vulnerability and intimacy.

I remember reading something once that talked about how many men struggle with discerning the difference between the desire for intimacy and the desire for sexual satisfaction because the two are so often considered synonymous for men in society. One person talked about how her partner thought he had ED issues until they started exploring different ways to fulfill his emotional needs and he learned the difference between being horny and wanting emotional closeness. That’s always kind of stuck with me, the way men are expected to fulfill all of their emotional needs through sex with romantic partners, because wanting non-sexual intimacy is something seen as “girly” or “weak.” And I’ve thought about it a lot in regards to Sanji and his relationship to masculinity and vulnerability.

Sanji has a very hard time expressing his kind and vulnerable side because of the abuse he suffered as a kid. After he ran away from Germa, he learned to act like a tough little asshole as a defense mechanism, because there was no one to protect him anymore. Even after Zeff took him in as someone who genuinely loves him, Zeff basically acts the same way, being rough and tumble ex-pirate who communicates his love to Sanji in more subtle ways. So being raised by him pretty much reinforced that switch in his personality to only showing his kindness in ways that are considered acceptable for a man (cooking, flirting with women, ect.)

Sanji is most comfortable putting on a tough guy persona and acting like an asshole, even if his actions directly contradict it (e.g. saying he only saves women only to risk his life throwing Usopp out of danger three seconds later). Which is something a lot of people in One Piece do, but Sanji takes it to another level, because even now he has his family’s voices in the back of his head telling him he’s weak, a failure, subhuman. Rather than just a front to act tough, I think Sanji genuinely feels unsafe showing the parts of himself he was told make him weak. He trusts his friends with his life, but childhood trauma dies hard and the traumatized child inside him still thinks showing kindness and vulnerability leads to pain, and as such he still struggles to be truly emotionally vulnerable with people, ESPECIALLY other men, who he sees as the bigger threat.

However, fearing your emotional needs doesn’t make them go away. Sanji LOVES people. Despite his incurable asshole disease, he’s extremely personable. He has a big bleeding heart and cares so deeply for the people around him. He craves connection, and I think that goes doubly so for a romantic relationship, because Sanji loves so intensely. I think in a relationship with Zoro they would have a hard time getting into sync at first. Falling in love with Zoro came out of LEFT FIELD for Sanji, it was in NO WAY something he was prepared for and is nothing like he ever imagined, therefore it’s completely uncharted territory. They suck at communicating because Zoro doesn't always realize things need to be said out loud and Sanji’s afraid to ask. He’s especially not comfortable with the idea of wanting intimacy from Zoro. Despite the inherent trust and respect they have for each other, their relationship has always been volatile, electric, violent. There’s no room for softness. Men aren’t supposed to want tenderness from other men. He’s not supposed to want closeness from Zoro. That’s not how they are, that’s not what he pretends he is.

Sex on the other hand, sex is safe. Men are supposed to want sex—expected to—and while sex and emotional intimacy often go hand in hand it’s not scoffed at the way non-sexual intimacy is. He’s able to fulfill some of the desire for closeness through sex without completely opening himself up to vulnerability. But wanting sex and wanting intimacy aren’t the same thing, and Sanji’s not actually allowing himself what he needs. Enter Zoro figuring out what Sanji’s doing after he reaches a breaking point (starts sobbing half-way through sex which PANICS THE HELL out of Zoro) and being like “yeah I’m not letting him do that anymore” and starts opening up the option for different kinds of intimacy in their relationship in a way that doesn’t make Sanji feel exposed or demeaned.

I have a headcanon that Sanji struggles with wanting/asking for non-sexual intimacy from Zoro. So if he's having a rough day or just wants to be held by the man he loves he'll initiate sex in order to feel that connection, regardless of whether he's actually in the mood. But Zoro's gotten unnervingly good at telling when he's doing this and redirecting to give him what he actually needs in that moment.

[esotericbluntbaby]

intoxicated conversations

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: after finding out you've decided to move back to the states following your break up, hamzah indulges even more in the satisfaction of weed. surrounding the comfort within all the pain it gives him, he decides he needs more than what the drug can give him.

mentions: angst, weed/drug use, angsty love confession, slight argument, dialogue-heavy, hurt/comfort, happy ending, she/her pronouns, kinda toxic and possessive hamzah, kinda toxic reader, sfw!

supermodel by sza

--

the break-up was as painful as jumproping on broken shards of glass.

the relationship was short-lived, as if it died within the first moments it was bloomed. words were left unsaid as if your relationship was a letter that was never sent; a letter that got lost in the mail and lost in translation between the two of you. the exchange of "i love you" simply never happened, which kept you both dwelling on the possibility of a future. calendars were marked with red ink on dates you were supposed to go out, half of them being crossed off and rescheduled throughout the span of the year you dated.

you wanted to say the three words that could have fixed the relationship; in fact, you craved it as much as a cannibal craves the flesh of a fresh human. in a way, hamzah was your flesh and you desired to taste as much of him as you could. however, humans aren't meant to know how another human tastes, not like that; at least, that's what you thought. fear drove you apart, however, resentment accompanied the panic that rose in your heart each time you felt like telling him how you truly felt about him. arguments began to arise after every conversation; it soon became tiring to talk to each other.

eventually, the fire grew cold, the ice decided to melt, and the relationship felt more like a dead plant that the both of you decided to water at different, separate times. you ended things with him, leaving a painful gap in your heart where he once resided in. with his absence came the presence of a lonelier, melancholy emotion that you always seemed to feel. though you tried blaming it on the fact that it was always raining and cold and that you were probably deficient in vitamin d, you knew in your heart that it was because you regretted ending things with him instead of talking yourselves through it. running away from your problems, you decided to run away from the specific problem at hand; you decided to move back to the states.

--

hamzah was currently on a facetime call with martin and mandy, bewildered at the information that just came out of mandy's mouth so nonchalantly.

"she's what?" hamzah's eyes widened, picking up his phone from leaning on his pc.

mandy sighed, "i tried talking her out of it, but she's so set on going."

"well, where's she moving to?"

"back to california. she said something about 'needing vitamin d'" or some bullshit excuse," mandy began to type on her macbook.

martin decided to interrupt the tense air with his usual personality shining through, "should we go get pizza tonight, gang?"

"wait, mandy," hamzah interrupted as he ignored martin, "are you upset over her moving?"

"i'm upset at both of you, right now."

hamzah threw his hands up in defense, "what'd i do?"

"you guys decided to just break up as if it's as simple as that- as if it would get rid of all the memories and feelings and-"

"i'm gonna stop you right there- what do you mean 'you guys?' she broke up with me."

martin interrupted, once again, "well, did you fight for her?"

hamzah was genuinely puzzled, as if the concept of fighting for someone was foreign to him, "what?"

"like," martin continued, "when she brought up breaking up with you, did you even try to convince her not to?"

"well, no-"

mandy egged on, "that's what i mean by 'you guys.' you guys decided to just end things when it got hard."

"i'll be fine," hamzah lied, "we never ever said 'i love you.'"

martin shrugged, "just because you never said it, doesn't mean it wasn't there."

--

hamzah's lie caught up with him in the middle of the night in the way that grief catches up to a mourner as the light shines on their tears. though he's slightly ashamed of it, he kept a bottle of your perfume after you both went your separate ways. spraying it onto his pillow, he inhaled the familiar scent and began to feel his body relax. the mere remembrance of you also reminded him of your forthcoming absence.

still inhaling your scent of his pillow, guiltily, he took out the cart hidden in his drawers. he told himself he'd try to quit, yet, it felt like a good time to bring it out once more. smoke filled the air in front of him as he took a long drag out of the mouthpiece and allowed himself to feel everything around him: the relapsing, the smoke in the air, the presence of your perfume, and the absence of your body.

one hit turned into two, as two somehow multiplied into four, and hamzah was absolutely blasted. he didn't even realize that, somehow, his legs were picking himself off of his chair and was now leading him out of the door. eventually, he felt his hands put his car keys in the ignition and start. he didn't know where he was going; he simply let the intoxication take control of his body as his mind floated elsewhere.

--

it was 9:00 at night as you heard a knock on the wooden door. getting up from taping boxes closed, you looked through the peephole to make sure there wasn't a maniac only being separated from you by the door in front of you. you weren't sure if your eyes were fooling you, or if it was your desires deceiving you once again and taking you away in a drunken state, but you were 99% sure that it was hamzah. taking the risk, you decided to open the door, revealing his half-lidded and ruby eyes, accompanying his swaying body.

your eyebrows furrowed, "hamzah?"

"hey," he sounded slightly drunken off of substance, "can i sleep here for the night? i don't want to be alone."

"what-"

"just on the couch. please."

you noticed the state he was in and didn't want to leave him to drive home, "okay."

helping him into your house, you helped him lay on the couch. you helped put a blanket, which you got from underneath your couch, over his shivering body. though you were about to leave to go to your room after mumbling a goodnight, he grabbed your hand.

"stay."

you blinked, not knowing if you heard him right, "what?"

he pulled you slightly closer, "just stay. talk to me a little. how've you been?"

"maybe we should wait until you're sober, hamzah, i don't-"

"no, it has to be now. if i'm sober, i won't be able to talk."

"what do you mean?" you questioned, getting comfortable on the couch

he lightly scoffed, "don't worry about it- just stay here and talk to me. answer my question."

"what question?"

he began to play with your fingers, "how've you been?"

"i've been okay."

his eyes opened as wide as they could, "are you lying to me?"

"uh, no- no, i'm not-"

"y'know," he rested his head on your thigh and gazed up at you, "you've always been a horrible liar."

"hamzah."

"are you mad at me? i'm sorry."

a pang of guilt entered your chest, "no, hamzah- i'm not mad at you. i just think you should go to bed. it's late and you're not in the right state to be talking to me or, honestly, even being here."

"you opened the door for me."

"what?"

"you opened the door. you looked through the peephole and saw me and you still opened the door. why?"

"because i didn't want you to be driving in the middle of the night in this state."

he crossed his arms, "well, i drove here. i can drive back if you want," he says as he began to get up.

"no," you laid him back down on the couch, "it's okay. you can stay. we can talk tomorrow."

"but-"

you got up from the couch, "goodnight, hamzah."

--

the next morning came shortly after you fell asleep. expecting a familiar face on your couch, you were surprised when your apartment seemed empty. looking throughout each room, decorated with boxes, you couldn't find hamzah anywhere. you, then, felt a vibration in your pocket.

hamzah

10:07 am | hey, thanks for letting me stay with you. i'm sorry that i crashed your apartment. i didn't mean to and it won't happen again.

you

10:08 am | oh its np. ur good.

--

except, it did happen again a couple of days later. once again, as you were packing boxes with miscellaneous decorations found in the space around you, you heard another knock on your door. mimicking your actions from the first time he knocked, you looked through the peephole and opened the door once you realized how red and glossy his eyes were.

"i'm horrible."

confused, you simply allowed him to come in and helped him sit down on your couch again, "what's the matter?"

"i said i wouldn't do this again and here i am. i'm sorry."

in all honestly, you pitied how hurt he seemed; you didn't know why and you didn't want to take advantage of his drunkenness. yet, you were also somewhat selfish in the situation. you wanted to know why he kept on showing up at your apartment high. is he manipulating you? is he aware that you would always open your door to him if he was intoxicated? you needed to know.

"hamzah," you held his hand and softly asked, "why do you keep coming here like this?"

"i dunno. you'll have to ask me another time."

you sighed, "is this just gonna keep happening?"

"i dunno. your apartment looks empty."

in the midst of him showing up, you almost forgot that you only had a couple of days to pack everything up, "oh, yeah. just- y'know, getting rid of some stuff."

"martin told me you were moving."

"he did?"

"him and mandy."

you lightly rubbed the veins on his hand with your thumb, "hamzah, i won't be here after three more days. i need you to remember that when you're sober. i'll even text you it because this place will be empty."

you waited patiently for a response, realizing after five minutes that he fell asleep with his head on top of you. trying your best to balance out your leg with a pillow, you managed to get up without waking him. taking a blanket and putting it onto him, once again, you left the room.

--

the next morning, like always, he was gone. this time, you decided to text him.

you

11:42 am | hi, hamzah. i just wanted to let ur know that i'm not mad at u for coming over when ur high, but i won't be in this apartment after thursday. if u wanna get high and come over again, u got like 2 more days lol

11:43 am | im only half joking

11:43 am | i hope everythings okay w u

11:43 am | each time u come here u seem so out of it

hamzah

12:23 pm | no yea i get it

12:23 pm | i'm sorry again

12:24 pm | i dont know why im always there

12:24 pm | it's like i get high and then i just

12:24 pm | lose control of everything im doing lol

12:25 pm | i would say that it wont happen again but i cant promise anything

you liked the message right after he said it, as another message was waiting to be sent in the text message box on his phone.

12:25 pm | i'm sure it'll happen again

12:25 pm | i miss you

yet, the messages were highlighted and deleted.

--

moving day came quickly without a visit from hamzah and you were upset. though he wasn't sober, you missed simply hearing his voice. you missed how he looked at you with glistening eyes, adoration still laced in the stares he gave you as he was laying on your lap. you felt horrible about missing him; he was only coming over as drugs poisoned his body, mindset, and sense of judgement, yet, you simply liked seeing him.

your apartment was now empty and you were sitting on the floor, taking in the fact that you were genuinely leaving. you knew you could back out of your lease at any moment if you wanted to. your stuff was in the moving van downstairs, so it wasn't like this had to be a permanent decision. for someone so adamant on leaving, the change of heart almost gave you whiplash. hamzah entered your life with a plague and, somehow, you were refusing treatment. you sat on the cold, hardwood floor, rethinking your decisions, as another knock was heard from the other end of the door.

this time, you didn't want to let him in. he wouldn't let you leave if he did. you would see the pain in his eyes that he's so desperately trying to get out with the weed he's been smoking, and you would let him in. this time there was no couch to sleep on. there was no boxes to question about. there was nothing there. you heard a muffled voice come from the door you were staring at.

"i'm sober, i swear. let me in, please."

--

you and hamzah sat on the floor together in silence. a part of you was afraid of listening to him. if anyone was able to convince you to stay, it'd be him. yet, another part of you was begging for him to convince you to stay. internally, you were a seesaw that was constantly imbalanced with different weights on each side.

"hamzah, i can't just sit here- i have to leave soon and-"

"i love you."

your eyes widened as your heart began to beat quicker, almost as if your heart was a ticking time bomb that those three words became the detonating trigger. you finally made eye contact with him, as his eyes were already on yours. this time, for the first time in the past couple of times you've seen him, his eyes were normal. there was no hint of red in them and no glossiness. he wasn't tipsy and you didn't have to help him figure out where the floor was or where your furniture went. this time, he couldn't sober up and leave.

"you decided to tell me this now, as i'm leaving? hamzah, what the fuck is wrong with you?" your voice raised slightly louder, "you waited until the final fucking day that i was here for you to tell me that?"

"i've been wanting to say it ever since we started dating. i was scared-"

"you don't think i'm scared? i'm fucking terrified. y'know, i almost moved to a whole fucking country just to get away from my problems and then i- suddenly, i just realize that you were the fucking problem this whole time! are you serious, hamzah?" you noticed a grin appear on his face, "oh, you're smiling? what the fuck are you smiling about? what could possibly make you happy in this moment. i'm literally yelling at you for being a genuine dumbass-"

"you said almost."

the anger you felt dissipated as confusion took over your emotions and facial features, "what?"

"i 'almost' moved to a whole fucking country. you said 'almost,' that means you're not going to."

"no-"

you wished you could slap that stupid smirk off his face, "no, you're going to stay. you said 'almost.' you never wanted to move- you were waiting for me to say it, weren't you?"

your jaw slightly dropped for a moment; you didn't even realize that your subconscious peeked through your anger, "no, that's not-"

"i love you."

"hamzah, stop-"

"i fucking love you."

the two of you suddenly became closer than you were, interlocking lips as if they were hands that were molded together. the nostalgia took over any sense of judgement you previously had, including the anger that you previously felt for him. for someone who wanted to run away from their problems, their problem being hamzah, you gave into what your subconscious truly wanted fairly easily. it, somehow, isn't surprising that you decided to kiss the problem. mid-kiss, it suddenly dawned on you that perhaps you were also the problem. you both decided not to speak, which was on the both of you. he pulled away, fixing your hair for you and kissing your cheek before speaking again.

"you let me in. you looked through your door and, each time i came over, you let me in. you can say whatever you want about me. you can say i'm a fucking dumbass. you can call me an asshole for coming here over and over again and fucking with your head without realizing. i even apologize for that," he kissed your forehead, "but my point is: you can say all of that, and somehow not hate me."

"i don't hate you, hamzah. i never said i did-"

"when martin said you were moving, the first thing i did was spray the perfume i stole from you onto a pillow. then, i smoked so much of my pen that the battery died both times i came over. i need you here. i thought i needed a place to crash whenever i get high and lonely-"

"really, hamzah?"

"let me finish before you get mad. no, i didn't need that. i need you here. do you know how fucking hurt i was after i found out from mandy that you were leaving before i even had the chance to fix things? you think i'd let you just leave without me trying to get you to stay first?"

you sighed, "you let me leave when i left you."

"and look at where that got me. baby, i'm a mess without you. i don't care about anything anymore. there are times where i just sit in bed all day and mope about you because letting you go was the worst mistake i've ever made in my entire life. i can't just let you leave again- not after knowing where that left me the first time. i need you back. i'll do anything. i'll beg for your forgiveness, just- please. stay."

"what do you mean by 'stay?'"

"let me fix things. let me make things better. i'll fight for you," he placed his hands on your shoulders, "i'll say the things you can't say. i'll do the things you can't do on your own. i'll do it- i'll do all of it. please. stay."

your voice got as soft as a whisper, "where would i stay?"

"with me. stay with me."

he pulled your chin towards his lips and kissed you gently, once more.

"i love you. stay."

you interlocked your hand with his, as you sat together on the floor of your old apartment.

"help me move my stuff?"

--

authors note

i kinda hate how i ended this but this came to me in a dream LOL

[mickeys-been-staying-at-ians]

So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

[nvuy]

(new to Tumblr, sorry in advance) but can we get more gentle Sunday? Like, the way he looks at us through his gentle gaze is too much man idec if it's smut or normal I want to see him ignoring reader's teasing/playful tendencies even if we are a little shit

-IA

paparazzi — sunday

summary. aeons forbid mister sunday has a secret private life outside of being the head of the oak family. it just so happens it might be a bit more promiscuous than originally let on.

notes. IA possibly sent me this six months ago. excuse my unexplained lack of content. more may be coming, not sure. come get ur slop.

warnings. gopher wood appears for five seconds.

The Head of the Oak Family almost keeled over on top of his desk the day it was brought to his attention that his name was topping the popularity charts on every site in Penacony. His face was plastered as the preview image on every article attached with his name. 

That wouldn’t have been so bad in itself if the picture wasn’t of him ‘sucking face’ — as The Penacony Tribune so eloquently put it — with a ‘dazzling stranger’ — as Inquirer so eloquently put it — on the ‘whimsical night celebrating yet another successful Charmony Festival’ — as Republicony so eloquently put– 

Sunday almost heaves as he swipes off the news article. His photo stares back at him on the millions of other sites covering the topic. 

It wasn’t any sort of assumption either; the photo was clearly of Sunday, no doubt about it there. Same coloured hair, the distinctive six feathered wings that curled around his ears that not many other Halovians possessed. 

He’d been spotted prior in photos with Robin, who was dressed just as prettily as him on that night, being special guests and important Penacony figures, and so even if his face was obscured in the image he would have been recognised by his clothing. 

The ‘dazzling stranger,’ however, not so much. 

They were dressed like all of the other staff in simple black pants and the white apron. Thankfully, their face was completely obscured by shadows, some of Sunday’s face due to the angle, and the branches hanging from where the mysterious photographer had snuck the picture. 

Sunday wasn’t sure whether this was a blessing or a curse, however. On one hand, they’re safe from the backlash. On the other hand, it only encourages the journalists to play guessing games on who the mysterious person really is. 

There is an entire article featured already on the list of potential suspects, but thankfully, none of them were correct. 

Sunday sits at his desk with his phone burning hot and running low in his hand. He doesn’t want to continue scrolling, but his fingers swipe and swipe and swipe and every article makes him feel sicker and sicker. 

His stomach churns and he opens his messages. 

Ignoring the streams of notifications from work partners, colleagues and his own father, his thumb hovers over your contact. He opens your messages and hesitates. 

You haven’t sent him anything since two hours before he saw you that night. It was a simple “see u there beautiful” that made his heart hammer that night. 

Even now, as his fingers tremble over the keyboard, his face reddens. Nerves spike heavy in his heart like needles made of lead as he thinks on it. And then he thinks, and thinks, and thinks and thinks and thinks—

He quickly turns his phone off when there is the flap of a wing and a raven perches onto his shoulder, light and soft. The feathers rustle against Sunday’s own, and perhaps once that feeling was comforting to him when he was just a boy. Now, it does nothing but make his heart stop.

The bird speaks, “you’ve made a fool of yourself.”

Sunday stammers for a moment. And then, he answers, “it won’t happen again.” It’s a phrase he’s said many times, and he hasn’t been proud each time he has uttered it. In fact, bitterness seeps at the base of his throat when he whispers, and his stomach stirs. Tears prickle behind his eyelids, but he holds his breath.

“Another empty promise,” the bird comments. “You offer a lot of them.” 

“It will not happen again,” he repeats, this time with a steady voice. 

“I would hope so,” the bird says. “You are fully aware this next Charmony Festival will be–”

There is a timid knock at the door. Three taps of the knuckle on the wood on the other side ring through loudly, and the raven’s wings bristle instinctively. It halts its speech as the door is silently pushed open.

Sunday stiffens for a moment. It’s polite to announce yourself, or to ask permission to step into his office, for colleagues or guests alike. Not many people just invite themselves in. 

“Hi.” There’s the familiar click of short heels as Robin inches through the crack in the door and shutting it securely behind her, making sure nobody had seen her wander in. She’s wearing one of Sunday’s old sweaters he grew out of, and her hands are covered in blue and red ink. 

Sunday breathes a sigh of relief.

She pauses for a moment, her eyes flitting to the bird on his shoulder. She nods once in greeting. “Father.” 

He pays her no mind. “You are grown now. You are to deal with the press yourself tonight.” 

The bird merely hums before the weight is lifted off and the raven leaves behind a purple feather as it takes flight out of the office window from whence it came. 

Robin hums worriedly, and there’s a frown on her lips as she watches the bird depart. “I came to check on you.” 

Sunday’s lips twitch upwards into a smile. “What for?” 

She sits down on one of the chairs opposite his desk and pulls it forward. “Well, you’re all over the news.” 

Ah. Sunday grins uneasily. “It will subside.” He glances down at the empty papers awaiting filling on his desk. He hasn’t touched them since the minute before he started receiving frantic messages last night.  

Since then, he hasn’t slept. 

It won’t subside. It never will. This is a permanent scar on his reputation, his image, his entire work he’s put into this position. This person he’s made of himself is tattered and ruined, and he guarantees if he steps outside of his office and trudges into Aideen Park, his photo will be broadcasted on every screen visible in the area.

Robin rests her elbows on the desk. “I was gonna tell you that.” She taps her nails against the wood. “It might be a big deal now, but everyone gets bored of the same old news eventually. In a week, everyone will forget. They’ll move onto something else.” She looks up at him. “But…” 

Sunday raises his brows. 

She raises hers in return and leans back in the chair. “You never told me you found someone. Never thought anyone would be into something as ugly as you.”

He opens his mouth but nothing rolls off his tongue like it usually does. Instead, he quickly shuts it. He swallows hard. 

“It’s not–” 

His phone rings. Again. He has ignored most of the incoming calls today, but this ringtone is different, and Robin notices that too. 

She looks down at his phone on the desk with a sparkle in her gaze. “‘S that them?” 

He does not have to look down at the contact number. “Yes.” His fists clench nervously. “It’s not a relationship. It’s–”

“–Complicated, I’m sure,” she finishes over the ringtone. She stands up nonetheless. “You should answer it. It might make it less complicated.” 

Sunday hums. His thumb hovers over the decline button. 

Only when she arrives at the door she reminds him, “I’m here if you need to talk.” 

She knows he won’t, and even he knows he won’t, but he thanks her anyway, and she closes the door behind her. 

Sundays waits for a while. So long, in fact, that he’s missed your call, and you’ve sent him a quick “hi beautiful. call me back when u can” that makes his heart lurch in his throat. 

And weakly, Sunday returns your call. 

*ೃ༄

The ceremony was but ten minutes away from starting, and it was him and his alone who would be opening with the welcoming speech, and then sticking around afterwards.

He’d much rather go home and scream into a pillow.

Even now, as he stands behind the curtains of the stage, he picks at his gloves and pinches the material around his fingers. He’s already broken a nail from scratching idly at his desk when the tics in his stomach grow too restless, and it catches against the cotton.

He’s supposed to go out there to commence the second night of the festival, and yet his palms are sweating, and his face is pink and white all over in splotches like spilled speckles of paint, and– 

“Ooh. Someone’s nervous.” 

Sunday stiffens, though it’s barely visible. He’d been wrong to assume he was alone for the time being. Backstage has been presently empty aside from a few workers who’d given him curt nods in passing. It was humiliating to even pretend that nothing was wrong, but it was all he could do. 

Sunday turns quickly. 

You pop your head out from one of the side curtains. “Did I scare you?” 

His wings flutter instinctively when your hands reach outward to rest on his shoulders, fingers running just short of the base of his lowest pair of wings. 

Spiders crawl up his throat and Sunday peers behind to check for anyone else that may be passing by. 

“How did you get back here?” he asks worriedly. 

You glance to the left. “I have a key. I work here, remember?” You tap at your badge, the word ‘ESCORT’ printed beneath your name. “We have to talk.” 

“Can it wait?” Sunday glances behind him again. “I’ll be–” 

“Really quickly,” you interrupt. You pop behind the curtain for a second and he hears something rustling. “I wanted to say sorry for… well, everything.” Your poke your head out and offer him a white box. 

Sunday gingerly takes it and lifts the flap. 

Inside is two giant slices of strawberry shortcake, adorned with frothy white cream and strawberry slices sitting neatly atop in rows of three. They look delicious, but also identical, and Sunday’s wings flutter once.

“Made it for you.” 

He glances up.  

“You can eat them later.” You hum in amusement. “I know you like strawberry.” 

He closes the lid and sets the box aside gently on a nearby table. “I don’t remember telling you that.” 

You follow him silently after zipping the curtain shut. “You didn’t. I just assumed from your lip balm.” 

“My lip balm?” 

“Mhm.” You lean forward and press your lips to his quickly. 

Sunday reels back.

He watches your tongue lick at your bottom lip before you smack your lips together to annoy him. “Strawberry.” 

Sunday refuses to make a show of scrubbing the fluster off of his face. If he’s to touch his face, then he has to fix his hair, and then his shirt, and then his pants, and then–

“Hey.” 

He hasn’t even realised your cold hands have moved to soothe his burning cheeks. 

“I know I kinda made your life harder with this whole… rendezvous…” Your thumb nail traces the outline of his lip, collecting smudged shine of his lip balm. “Maybe when you finally quit this suckish job I can live my dream sucking at Mister Sunday’s face out on the streets.” 

Sunday knits his brows together.

The back of your knuckles finds one of his wings and you follow the plush feathers idly. 

Nervously, his eyes search around the room again. 

“There’s nobody here,” you remind him. 

“That’s what we assumed last t–” 

You kiss him then, partly to shut him up, and it seems to do the trick just fine. 

Sunday can’t fight the way he instantly melts in your embrace. His knees almost give out as your knuckle twists into the base of his stiffened wing. His heart pounds ridiculously quickly in his chest, so much so he feels horrifically sick and dizzy, like he could die right there, and he’d be okay with it. 

He returns your affections as best he can with what strength he still has. His grips tight onto your arms and he all but pushes his face closer to your lips. The tip of his nose squishes against the side of yours and his wings flutter beneath your fingers. He feels you pluck a loose, overgrown feather from the base.

You pull away. 

When he gives chase, you tap his feather against his lips. “I’ll give you the rest of the shortcake tonight.” 

Sunday blinks once, twice. Then, he swallows whatever pride remains in his heart and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “Then I look forward to your visit.”

You reach upwards and pinch his nose. “Now go do your sucky job.” 

Since you told him to.

“I’ll wait for you, Mister Sunday,” you promise him with a grin. “I’ve got time.”

Sunday scoffs playfully. “I’ll be in this position for a long time.”

“Yep. Even if you’re all old and wrinkly, I’ll still give you kisses.” You point at him. “Promise.”

“Mhm.” He can be playful if he wants to, you notice. “Then I look forward to the day.”

Your heart stammers.

He notices your cheeks darken with blood.

You laugh and almost trip over your own feet. Then, you raise him a mock salute and disappear around the corner.

Sunday knows he won’t be seeing you for a while. Not while he’s stuck as Head, anyway.

But still, his chest fills with warmth at the idea that one day—and maybe that day will never come. Maybe he will die before he ever gets the chance to really meet you again—you will be there. And he’ll let his feet drag him towards you so he can feel your hands in his. It’s a pull, like a magnet.

He knows patience.

So, he’ll wait. He’ll wait as long as he has to until he has you again.

[deathlygristly]

The spousal person and I chose each other when we were 18. We're 44 and 43 now (I'm seven months older than him which I'm sure scandalizes antis, like I could roll over on my own while he was still a fetus so clearly I am preying on him) and we are still very happily monogamous.

Here's the thing though.

We're both autistic, neither of us grew up religious (well, the spousal person went to Catholic school K-8 but he never believed in it), we both lost a parent before we met (my father died when a month after I turned 7 and his mother died when he was 17, a few months before we met) and on our first date when we were 18 we both agreed that we did not want children and that we cared more about being happy than about outward markers of success and status.

Now 25 years later we don't have kids but we do have a lot of cats, and I often tell him that my dream is for him and the kitties to be happy and he says his is for me and the kitties to be happy. :)

We got married when we were 21, in a drive-thru chapel in Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge. No rings, no fancy outfits, no guests, nothing like that. Just paperwork and then driving around to the window for the officiant to say the official words, lol. I didn't change my last name.

I've been learning more about autism lately and listening to the Autistic Culture podcast and things, and maybe it's the autism, I don't know. Neither of us really understand conformity or social pressure. Neither of us are real good at socializing long term with other people. We like our routines and our rituals. We're comfortable with each other and very much not comfortable around strangers. Dealing with other people is A Lot for us.

The main thing though is that it was all completely our own choice, from the moment I emailed him and asked if he wanted to hang out without our other friends to now, when I am sitting here with a cat in my lap and he's in the kitchen making a dinner that we both talked about and chose, and then we'll eat it while watching two kdrama episodes that we talked about and chose.

Also I get really confused about things I see on here about marriage and relationships with dudes, because I don't recognize any of what the haters are saying. The spousal person does all the housework except vacuuming. I don't do all the emotional stuff. We take care of each other and support each other. He's really cool and fun and I love him more than the universe and when we're watching a kdrama and something funny happens and he laughs and I look back at him and I hear his laugh and I see his face....it's the most beautiful perfect experience in existence and I want to be near him for always.

But if you didn't choose it, if you felt pressured into it by society or religion or family, if you don't even like the person you're building your life with, if you don't support each other and you don't talk and you don't feel free to be yourself and you're just performing to please some weird external Other....yeah, I can see that being awful.

If what you really want is monogamy and lifelong commitment, you absolutely cannot force it on an unwilling pseudopartner. Domination is not commitment. Abuse is not commitment. Performing to please an external other is not commitment.

To me commitment isn't hard at all. It's the easiest thing in the world. It's just hanging out forever with my most best friend who is also the coolest cutest human to ever exist in all possible realities.

But based on what I've learned about other people since I got internet access...it's not going to be easy if you can't accept yourself for who you are and if you care more about conformity and social status than your own happiness and if you haven't taken responsibility for your own emotions and you aren't willing to work on healing your own trauma.

And if you do work on healing your own trauma and take responsibility for your emotions and get comfortable with who you are and with respecting other people as their own unique self and you find that what you want is polyamory or being single or whatever, go for it! That can be commitment too, to a steady set of multiple partners or to yourself and your own integrity.

I don't know. I think the point is that domination and abuse and forcing others never works and never results in long term happiness, no matter the number of people involved. You gotta respect the autonomous selves of others if you want mature committed relationships, of whatever kind.

Gotta stop here because he says dinner is ready. :)

everybody talks about men in trad marriages having affairs with their secretaries but it’s worth noting a lot of women back then had side pieces too. you can force a woman to submit to you legally but you can never force her to love you or maintain fidelity against her will. you can get rid of no fault divorce and get rid of abortion but you can’t get rid of fun.

[xobunni0]

𝒾𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 — Valentine day 1

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

౨ৎ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡… shadow reminds you that even though he struggles to show it, his feelings for you aren’t going anywhere.

short one bc im sick 💔

the apartment was quiet, you and Shadow sat across from each other on the bed, legs loosely folded, a comfortable distance between you. the dim lighting cast a soft glow over his dark fur, highlighting the sharp edges of his features

but tonight, it was different

you had noticed it before how sometimes, no matter how close you were Shadow seemed miles away. it wasn’t coldness not exactly, but something deeper like he was carrying a weight that even you couldn’t reach.

and it had been happening more often lately.

the silence stretched on between you and Shadow, heavier than before. even after his quiet promise to try, there were moments when he still slipped away moments when his thoughts pulled him somewhere you couldn’t follow.

and it hurt.

it wasn’t something you wanted to admit, even to yourself. you knew Shadow wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate, and you had never expected him to be. but when he pulled away, when his eyes drifted past you like he wasn’t really there it made you wonder if you were fooling yourself. If what you had with him was real

or if he was just holding on out of convenience

you sat on the bed knees pulled up to your chest, watching him as he stared out the window. his posture was tense, his mind clearly somewhere else. the city lights reflected in his eyes, but you could tell he wasn’t seeing any of it

Shadow had always been distant. you knew that from the start. but knowing it and feeling it were two very different things

Shadow was beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence but not close enough to feel him. not in the way you wanted.

you had always been there for him. When he became lost in his head, you stayed. when his nightmares woke him in the middle of the night, you never asked questions you just reached for him letting him know he wasn’t alone. when he disappeared for hours, sometimes days, you never demanded explanations. you simply waited.

but how long could you keep waiting for something that might never come?

“You’re thinking too much again” Shadow said his voice pulling you from your thoughts

you glanced at him. he was looking at you now but not in the way you wanted. it was observation not intimacy. he could always tell when something was on your mind but he never reached for you first. never touched you just because he wanted to

you swallowed your fingers gripping the blanket. “Do you even care about me Shadow?”

the words felt heavier the moment they left your mouth. Shadow stiffened his red eyes narrowing slightly not in ange but in confusion.

“Why would you ask that?” he said

you exhaled, shaking your head. “Because you never show it” you admitted your voice quieter now. “I’m always here for you. Always. And I don’t expect you to change who you are but… sometimes I wonder if this even means anything to you. If I mean anything to you.”

Shadow was silent. His gaze flickered slightly, as if he was processing your words but the longer the silence stretchedthe more that ache in your chest deepened.

“I know you’re not the kind of person who says things outright,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I never needed you to say the words. But I need something Shadow. I need to know that you care, that I’m not just wasting my time hoping for something you’ll never give me.”

His jaw tightened and for a second, you thought he might look away. But then finally he spoke

“I do care” he said, his voice quieter than before. “More than you know.”

Your breath caught. “Then why don’t you show it?”

Shadow exhaled sharply his hand running over his quills. “Because I don’t know how,” he admitted, and for the first time, there was a rawness in his tone that startled you. “I’ve spent my life fighting, surviving. Affection isn’t something I’ve ever had let alone something I’ve learned to give.”

Your chest ached at the quiet confession.

“You could learn” you said gently. “I don’t need big gestures of love Shadow. I don’t need words. Just… something. Anything to let me know I matter to you as much as you matter to me.”

Shadow looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable behind his eyes. slowly hesitantly he reached out.

His hand brushed against yours fingers curling over your own not tightly, but on purpose. It was such a simple touch but from him it felt like everything.

Your breath hitched slightly as you squeezed his hand in return.

Shadow’s gaze softened just a little. “I’ll try” he said but this time, you believed him.

because tonight he was already starting.

[neoraso]

bf things with boynextdoor

03z + 04z

sungho

cooks for you without a second thought. wants his baby fed and even before you started dating he always made extra when he knew you were coming around

sticks up for you always. if he sees ANYONE mistreating or teasing you too much he makes sure to end it there.

thinks you're THE funniest person alive. laughs harder and smiles more when you're around

lots of dates (shopping, cafe, eating, museums,etc.) but also loves to just stay in, cook and watch movies with you, talking and cuddling, he serenades you sometimes playfully >_<

loves to play with your hair and hold your hands- so simple but its so endearing and special to him to feel the back of your hand or your fingers curled in his own.

riwoo

was literally so shy around you before you started dating, now you are the person he feels most at home with. he doesn’t say it all the time but it shows when he’s around other people

carries your bags for you, holds your drink, etc. with no hesitance- even if someone points it out

is quite observant about your moods, habits, likes and dislikes. prides himself on knowing things about you no one else seems to care about-especially when he pulls out the most thoughtful gifts that leave you floored

feels a sense of responsibility for your care and overall wellbeing, but also feels incredibly comforted and safe with you

loves to share food and treats with you, all the time but especially when you look like you need a pick me up

jaehyun

he tries to not hang off of you like a backpack but fails within an hour and especially at night

everyone he introduces you to, coworkers, family members, friends, etc., all act like they know you from how much he talks about you. he thinks the world of you and loves to brag

every time he sees you it's like you've been gone for 6 years, even if it's only been a day; hugs so tight and gives 1 billion kisses, coos at you

an obvious mention: cute aggression that occurs so often it might be like a chronic affliction... srsly... kisses your face and head with a surprising amount of force and ur literally js sitting there, minding ur business

he elevates you. he's a great guy who you know deserves the world and it makes you want to live up to that. he feels the same about you and you guys encourage each other to be your best selves.

taesan

loves to have matching items with you (will spend hours customizing shoes or hats for you both)

loves days in where u just listen to whatever records you picked up the last time he brought you to the shop and lay there or slow dance around

lovessss meaningful gifts and gestures. will buy or make you snacks when you’re stressed or just bc would steal the moon for you if you asked

thinks everything you do is so cute and perfect and wonderful. literally so biased he will choose you to win over anyone

likes to pick you up from work or school even if its just to walk to the bus stop together and ride home (greatest protector award goes to…!!!)

leehan

your rock. soothes all your worries no matter how silly they seem. says really profound things like they're simple and- you guess they are when he’s around.

treats you oh so softly; tucks your hair behind your ears, pulls you into a hug like you're glass

nothing is embarrassing to him, he will wash your hair, shave your legs, brush your teeth for you. just ask and he’s there

likes when you sit with him while he watches his fishies,, you dont even have to be watching too but he feels so content with both of his favorite things to be around

the type where if you fall asleep on the couch instead of moving you, he'll just slip next to you to sleep too <<33

[aspenmissing]

hiii~ could you please write the arcane mains (especially jayvik) with an asexual reader? thank you~~

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙꜱᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ɴᴇᴇᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 3401 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴜᴘ?, ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜɪʏᴀ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ~ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!

ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been patient. More than patient, really. He adored Y/N, cherished every moment with her. From the way she absentmindedly played with his fingers when they held hands to the way she always found the perfect words to comfort him after a stressful day at the Council.

She was his anchor, the one person who made all the chaos bearable.

But he wasn’t oblivious. He noticed things.

They’d been together for a while now, and while Jayce was never one to rush things, a quiet curiosity had begun to settle in the back of his mind. It wasn’t just the absence of intimacy in the way most people defined it—he never minded taking things slow—but there was something unspoken between them. A line Y/N never seemed to want to cross, even when they were wrapped up in each other, bathed in soft candlelight and whispered affections.

Had he done something wrong? Was she simply not ready, or was there something deeper that she wasn’t telling him?

Jayce had tried not to dwell on it too much. He loved her, that much was certain. But the uncertainty was starting to gnaw at him, and he didn’t want to be left in the dark any longer.

So, one evening, when they were curled up together on the couch in their shared home, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, he finally gathered the courage to ask.

"Hey, Y/N?"

His voice was gentle, hesitant. He didn’t want to ruin the moment—didn’t want her to feel cornered—but the words had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for far too long.

Y/N hummed, shifting slightly so she could look at him.

Jayce hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. "I just—" He let out a soft chuckle, trying to ease the weight in his chest. "I guess I've been wondering... is there a reason we haven’t, you know, gone further?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt Y/N stiffen slightly against him. It was subtle, but enough for him to notice.

Jayce’s heart clenched. He immediately backtracked. "Not that I’m upset or anything!" he rushed to say, his grip on her hand tightening as if to reassure her. "I just—if it’s me, if I’ve done something wrong, you can tell me. I want to understand."

A silence settled between them, thick and heavy with unspoken words. The light from the fire flickered against Y/N’s face, casting shadows that danced across her features as she looked down at her hands, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

"Jayce, it’s not you," she finally said, voice quiet but firm. "It’s not anything you’ve done."

Jayce felt a strange mix of relief and confusion at the same time. "Then… what is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for something difficult. "I just... I’m asexual."

The words hung between them for a moment, and Jayce blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to curiosity.

"Asexual?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "What does that mean?"

Y/N hesitated, gathering her thoughts. "It means I don’t experience sexual attraction," she explained carefully. "It’s not that I don’t love you, because I do—so much. But I don’t feel the same kind of... need for intimacy that most people do." She swallowed, watching him closely for his reaction. "It doesn’t mean I don’t want to be close to you, or that I don’t want to share my life with you. It’s just... different for me."

Jayce was silent for a moment, processing her words. And then, he nodded slowly.

"...Oh."

It wasn’t a bad "oh." It wasn’t one of disappointment or rejection. It was an "oh" of understanding—of something clicking into place.

Y/N offered a small, somewhat sad smile, her eyes searching his face for any sign of a reaction she feared. "I get if that’s not what you expected," she murmured. "And if that’s something you need in a relationship, I understand. If—if you want to leave, I won’t hold it against you."

Jayce frowned, his brows knitting together as his chest tightened. "Leave?" He immediately reached out, taking her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Y/N, I love you. That’s not changing because of this."

She looked at him, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. "Jayce, I don’t want to hold you back from something you might need."

Jayce shook his head. "Y/N, being with you isn’t about that for me. I love you—everything about you. The way you challenge me, the way you make me laugh, the way you make all the stress fade away just by being here." He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "Being Asexual won't make me love you any less. It just means I understand you more now."

Y/N’s eyes softened, the tension in her shoulders easing. "...Really?"

Jayce let out a chuckle, pressing his forehead against hers. "Of course." His voice was warm, reassuring. "I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was confused for a bit—I thought maybe I was doing something wrong. But now that I know, it’s just... part of who you are. And I love every part of you."

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, leaning into his touch. "You’re the best, you know that?"

Jayce grinned. "I do try."

She laughed, the weight on her chest finally disappearing. And as Jayce wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, she knew—he wasn’t going anywhere.

He never would.

VIKTOR

Y/N sat at her workbench, fingers absently tracing the worn edge of a blueprint, though she wasn't really reading it. The dim candlelight flickered, casting wavering shadows along the walls of their shared workshop. The quiet hum of the city outside felt distant, drowned beneath the steady thrum of her thoughts.

She needed to tell Viktor.

It had been weighing on her for months, an invisible wall between them that she felt responsible for. Every time she tried to gather the words, shame curled in her throat, swallowing them whole before they could pass her lips. It wasn't as though Viktor had ever pressured her—far from it. He was patient, ever understanding, but that only made the guilt press down on her harder. She felt like she was keeping a secret, a fundamental piece of herself, and the longer she held it in, the more suffocating it became.

Y/N exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the workbench before pushing herself to stand. She turned, eyes landing on Viktor where he sat by his own desk, scribbling away in his journal. His brow was furrowed in thought, the soft glow of the lamp outlining his sharp features in gold. The sight of him made her heart ache in the best way.

“Viktor,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced up immediately, always attuned to her voice, to the slightest change in her tone. “Yes, Drahý?” (Dear)

Y/N swallowed hard. “There’s… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Viktor set his pen down, turning his full attention to her. “Of course.” He gestured for her to sit beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did.

She wrung her hands in her lap, staring down at them as if they held the answers she sought. “I—” Her throat tightened. She tried again. “I’m asexual.” The words felt foreign leaving her mouth, like they belonged to someone else, someone braver.

A beat of silence passed, and she dared to lift her gaze to meet his. He wasn’t surprised. There was no confusion, no rejection in his expression. If anything, there was something warm in his eyes—something soft.

“I know,” Viktor said gently.

Her breath hitched. “You… you do?”

He smiled, a little sad but mostly fond. “I suspected for some time.” He reached out, his fingers brushing over hers with care, an invitation rather than a demand. “You hesitate before touch. You flinch when people assume intimacy is something expected. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, so I waited.”

She blinked, stunned. “Waited for what?”

“For you to reach for me first.” His fingers curled around hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “For you to decide what you need, what you want.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. The weight in her chest loosened, something inside her cracking open in relief. “You’re not… disappointed?” she asked, voice unsteady.

“Why would I be?” Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. “You are the most brilliant, kind-hearted person I have ever met. My feelings for you are not dependent on physical expectations. I love you, Y/N. As you are.”

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it, and Viktor reached up, brushing it away with his thumb. She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

Viktor pulled her close, careful, always careful. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in, letting the warmth of his presence steady her. For the first time in a long time, she felt whole.

And she knew, with unwavering certainty, that she was safe in his hands.

JAYVIK

Jayce had noticed it first—how Y/N would always stop when things got too heated. It wasn’t abrupt or panicked, but there was a moment, a breath, where her body tensed, her hands stilled, and she pulled away with a nervous chuckle or a soft excuse. It had happened enough times that doubt began to creep into his mind. Had he done something wrong? Had Viktor?

He hated the thought. The last thing he ever wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

One evening, after another moment where Y/N had hesitated before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and retreating to the safety of their bed, Jayce finally voiced his concerns to Viktor. They sat together in Viktor’s study, the dim glow of the Hextech crystal casting long shadows across the walls. Viktor, ever perceptive, had noticed as well—but he had not drawn the same conclusions as Jayce.

“She is happy with us,” Viktor murmured, fingers absentmindedly tapping against the edge of his cane. “I do not believe we have done something wrong, Jayce.”

“Then why does she always stop?” Jayce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to push her, but… I need to understand.”

Viktor hummed in thought, gaze flickering toward the door leading to their shared bedroom. “Perhaps we should ask?”

Jayce blinked, then let out a short, breathy laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

Viktor gave him a wry smile. “Because it is. We trust her. And she trusts us.”

With a nod, Jayce followed Viktor into the bedroom, where Y/N lay curled beneath the blankets, a book resting open on her lap. She looked up at them as they entered, a small, sleepy smile on her lips. “You two look serious,” she teased, setting the book aside. “Did something happen?”

Jayce hesitated, but Viktor, always the one to cut straight to the heart of things, sat beside her and took her hand. “Y/N, we have noticed… a pattern.”

Her fingers twitched in his grasp, and she glanced between them, wariness creeping into her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Jayce sat on her other side, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always stop when things start to get, well… heated.” He exhaled sharply. “Did we do something? Did I do something? If we made you uncomfortable, please tell us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she sat up properly, reaching out to take Jayce’s hand in her free one. “No! No, you haven’t done anything wrong.” She glanced away, chewing on her lip before taking a steadying breath. “It’s me.”

Viktor squeezed her hand gently. “Go on, Lásko’.” (Love)

She exhaled slowly, meeting their eyes with quiet resolve. “I’m asexual.”

Jayce and Viktor remained silent, not out of shock, but to give her the space to explain in her own time. She searched their faces for any signs of discomfort or rejection, but all she found was quiet understanding and patience.

“I love you both. So much.” Her voice softened. “But I don’t feel… that kind of attraction. I like being close, I like kissing, I love being with you—but when it starts going beyond that, it’s like a wall goes up in my head, and I just… I can’t.”

Jayce’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should have told us sooner, sweetheart.”

“I was scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you to feel like I didn’t want you. Or that I wasn’t enough.”

Viktor sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “You are more than enough, Lásko.”

Jayce cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over her skin. “We love you, Y/N. You don’t have to prove anything to us.”

She swallowed thickly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You’re really okay with this?”

“Of course we are,” Viktor murmured, nudging his forehead against hers.

Jayce grinned, wrapping his arms around both of them and pulling them into a tight embrace. “You’re stuck with us, love. Whether you like it or not.”

A watery laugh escaped her as she melted into their warmth, holding onto them as tightly as they held onto her. “I think I can live with that.”

And as they lay together that night, wrapped in each other’s arms, she knew—with absolute certainty—that she was loved.

VANDER

The Last Drop was quiet that evening, a rare moment of peace in the Undercity. Most of the regulars had already turned in, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their drinks. Vander sat at the bar, his large hands wrapped around a mug of ale, watching Y/N as they moved around the tavern, straightening chairs and wiping down tables.

Vander had always admired Y/N. From the moment they’d stepped into his life, they had been a steady presence—a sharp mind, a warm heart, and a will stronger than steel. He’d never been one for grand speeches, but with Y/N, he’d never needed to be. They understood each other in ways words couldn’t quite capture.

Tonight, though, something lingered between them, an unspoken weight. Y/N had been quieter than usual, their usual lightness subdued. Vander frowned, setting his mug down with a soft clink. “You alright, love?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm.

Y/N paused, fingers tightening around the cloth in their hands before exhaling slowly. “I… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Vander straightened, nodding. “Of course.” He gestured for them to sit beside him. Y/N hesitated for a moment before slipping onto the stool, their fingers fidgeting with the hem of their sleeve.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Y/N began, their voice steady despite the nervous energy in their hands. “About us.”

Vander’s heart gave a small, uncertain lurch, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Alright.”

Y/N took a breath. “I love you, Vander. You mean the world to me. But… I need you to know that I’m asexual.”

The words hung between them for a moment, and Vander saw the way Y/N braced themselves, as if expecting something to break.

He blinked, letting the words settle, rolling them over in his mind. Then, carefully, he reached out, covering Y/N’s restless hands with his own. “Alright,” he said again, softer this time.

Y/N looked up at him, eyes searching. “You… you understand?”

Vander offered a small smile, his thumb brushing over their knuckles. “I won’t pretend I know everything about it. But I don’t need to understand every detail to know what matters.” He squeezed their hand. “You love me. And I love you. That’s enough.”

A breath of relief escaped Y/N, their shoulders easing. “It’s just… I know for some people, that’s a deal-breaker.”

Vander chuckled, shaking his head. “Love, I’m not ‘some people.’” His expression softened. “Being with you, having you beside me—that’s what I care about. Doesn’t matter what shape that takes.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before a small, genuine smile broke across their face. Vander swore the weight in the room lifted, the tension dissolving like mist under sunlight.

He reached for his ale again, taking a sip before smirking. “Though I gotta admit, I was worried for a second there. Thought you were about to tell me you were leaving me for someone else.”

Y/N laughed, shaking their head. “No chance.”

“Good,” Vander murmured, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to their forehead. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

And just like that, the night felt a little warmer, the quiet a little kinder. Vander didn’t need to understand everything to know what was important—Y/N was his, and he was theirs. Nothing else mattered.

SILCO

The dim glow of The Last Drop’s lanterns cast flickering shadows across the room, the usual hum of the bar distant in the background. Silco sat across from Y/N in his office, his sharp gaze softened, though his fingers still toyed with a cigar he had yet to light. The revelation had settled between them like a delicate thread—fragile, but not broken.

He had always prided himself on being a man who understood people, who could read between the lines and predict their motives. But this? This was uncharted waters.

“Asexual,” he repeated, more to himself than to her. The word sat foreign on his tongue, not in a distasteful way, but in a way that demanded understanding. Y/N sat calmly, her expression unreadable, though he knew her well enough to notice the slight tension in her shoulders. Not from fear—but anticipation. Waiting for his reaction.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. “And this means…?”

She let out a breath, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the wooden surface between them. “It means I don’t experience sexual attraction. Or at least, not in the way most people do.” Her voice was steady, but he saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I love you, Silco. That hasn’t changed. But… that part of relationships? It’s never been something I’ve needed.”

Silco watched her, expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he reached across the desk and took her hand in his. A rare gesture of intimacy from him. His thumb ran slow, deliberate circles over her knuckles, grounding, thoughtful.

“I see,” he murmured. He wasn’t angry. Not disappointed. No, if anything, he felt—what was the word? Protective? No, that didn’t quite fit. Devoted? That was closer. He had given up everything for power, had built himself into something to be feared, respected. And yet, here she was, someone who had demanded nothing of him but to simply be. And she was looking at him now, searching for something—acceptance, reassurance.

A smirk ghosted the corner of his lips. “You think I’d love you any less?”

Y/N blinked. “I don’t know.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re a fool, then.”

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile, and he squeezed her hand. “Tell me,” he continued, voice softer now, careful, “what can I do to make things… comfortable for you?”

Y/N swallowed, surprised by the question. She had prepared for resistance, maybe frustration. But this? This quiet, considerate patience? It nearly undid her.

“You already are,” she admitted, squeezing his hand back. “Just knowing you don’t see me differently—that’s enough.”

Silco studied her, then stood, rounding the desk with slow, deliberate steps. He cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing just beneath her eyes, tracing the warmth of her skin. His touch was always precise, never wasted, and now it spoke volumes where words might fail.

“You are mine, my dear,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. “That hasn’t changed. Nor will it.”

A weight she hadn’t realised she was carrying lifted from her chest. Y/N exhaled softly, closing her eyes, leaning into the certainty of his touch. And in that moment, with the low hum of Zaun beneath them, she knew that love—real love—had never been defined by the expectations of others.

And neither were they.