#trying to decide if I should make this a thing or not

[rmview]

accidentally sending a nude, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — what happens when the stray kids boys accidentally send you an inappropriate picture!

contents — crack, flirting, suggestive.

bang ⁺ chan

bang chan was known for being responsible and composed, but even the most reliable people had their moments. he had been working late, distractedly multitasking between responding to texts from the members, fans, and — most nerve-wracking of all — you.

you two had been flirting back and forth for weeks, and tonight was no different. your witty banter put him in a good mood, and before he knew it, he was sending a selfie from the gym, shirt drenched in sweat.

but in his rush, he didn’t notice that the picture he sent wasn’t the one he intended. instead of the gym selfie, it was an older picture—one of him just out of the shower, shirtless, with a towel slung dangerously low on his hips.

seconds later, he realized his mistake.

his heart stopped.

“oh my god,” he muttered, staring at his phone in horror as the “read” indicator popped up. his mind raced. should he delete the message? send a follow-up explanation? throw his phone into the nearest body of water?

before he could do anything, your reply came through.

...well, that’s not what i expected, but i’m not complaining.

his face turned a deep shade of red as he ran a hand through his hair, groaning in embarrassment.

“i am so sorry,” he quickly typed, his thumbs trembling as he sent the message. “that was not meant for you. i was trying to send a gym selfie. please ignore that. oh my god, i’m mortified.”

you replied almost immediately.

relax, chan. it’s not like i haven’t imagined you looking like that anyway. 😉

his jaw dropped. was this flirting? were you actually flirting back after he’d just humiliated himself?

“wait… really?” he replied, cautious yet intrigued.

really. but next time, make sure you send the right picture.

chan exhaled a laugh, shaking his head as he smiled at the screen. “noted,” he typed back, still mortified but secretly thrilled. maybe his mistake wasn’t such a disaster after all.

felix ⁺

felix was a bit of a perfectionist, especially when it came to interactions with you. he’d spent weeks carefully navigating the line between friendly and flirty, hoping to gauge your interest without coming on too strong.

so when he accidentally sent that picture, he nearly dropped his phone in panic.

he’d just finished a workout and taken a picture to check his progress — a mirror selfie of him shirtless, muscles taut, and a playful smirk on his face. he’d meant to send it to chan, but somehow, it ended up in your chat.

“no, no, no, no!” felix exclaimed, his freckles standing out against the sudden flush of his cheeks.

he stared at the screen in horror, the little “delivered” icon taunting him.

your reply came faster than he expected.

wow… nice progress, felix. 👀

he froze. were you teasing him? he wasn’t sure if he should laugh, apologize, or crawl under a rock. finally, he decided to address it head-on.

“i am so sorry!” he typed furiously. “that was not meant for you. please ignore it. i’m mortified.”

you replied with a laughing emoji.

it’s fine. honestly, i didn’t know you were this fit. guess i’ve been missing out.

felix’s heart skipped a beat. was that… interest?

“well… thanks, i guess?” he replied, still unsure how to handle the situation. “but seriously, i didn’t mean to send that. i’m usually more careful.”

well, i’m glad you weren’t this time.

felix smiled at your cheeky response despite himself. maybe his mistake wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

lee ⁺ know

lee know had always been careful about boundaries. he enjoyed teasing you and keeping things light, but he never pushed too far. that’s why, when he realized he’d sent the wrong picture, he felt a wave of panic unlike anything he’d experienced before.

the picture wasn’t obscene, but it was suggestive — a shirtless shot of him lounging in bed, his sweatpants hanging low, with a hint of his toned stomach on full display. he’d taken it to mess around with hyunjin but somehow sent it to you instead.

his phone buzzed immediately.

...well, this is a surprise.

lee know stared at your message, his ears turning red as he groaned, tossing his phone onto the couch. “i’m such an idiot,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

after a minute of debating whether to respond, he finally picked up his phone.

“that was not for you,” he typed, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “sorry about that. just… forget you saw it.”

your reply came swiftly.

forget it? why would i? you look good, minho. 😏

his heart skipped a beat. “are you teasing me right now?” he replied, his confidence creeping back in.

maybe... or maybe i’m just being honest.

lee know smirked at the screen, his embarrassment fading. “well, if honesty is what we’re doing, then maybe i should admit that i don’t mind you seeing it.”

“good,” you replied. “because i didn’t mind seeing it either.”

for the first time that evening, lee know relaxed, realizing that his mistake might just have opened a door he hadn’t been brave enough to walk through himself.

hyun ⁺ jin

hyunjin had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his interactions with you reflected that. he adored teasing you with his flirtatious comments and playful winks, but he never imagined crossing a line — until tonight.

he was sitting in his art room, surrounded by scattered sketches, when he decided to take a break. swept up in a moment of self-appreciation, he snapped a quick mirror selfie to show off his post-dance practice glow — shirtless, slightly tousled hair, and his sweatpants riding dangerously low. he sent it off to his group chat with the caption, “behold: the main character.”

or so he thought.

when he saw your name at the top of the chat instead, his heart plummeted.

“no, no, no…” he whispered, fumbling with his phone. his fingers hovered over the “unsend” button, but it was too late — your message popped up almost instantly.

well, that’s something i wasn’t expecting tonight. 👀

hyunjin’s face turned crimson, and he buried his head in his hands. his mind raced with what to say, every option feeling inadequate. finally, he mustered a response.

“its not what it looks like,” he typed, his embarrassment palpable even through the screen. “i meant to send it to the group chat. i’m so sorry, seriously.”

your reply came faster than he anticipated.

aw, don’t be embarrassed, hyunjin. you look… good. really good.

he froze, rereading your message. was this real? were you flirting back?

“wait… are you being serious right now?” he asked hesitantly.

completely serious. but if you’re this shy over a picture, i can’t imagine how you’d react if i saw you in person like this.

hyunjin let out a breathy laugh, his embarrassment melting into nervous excitement. “you’re not making this easier, you know,” he replied.

who said i’m trying to make it easier?

he leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips at your teasing response. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

don’t pretend you don’t love it.

hyunjin shook his head, his heart pounding. what started as a mortifying mistake was quickly turning into the most exhilarating conversation he’d ever had with you.

i.n ⁺

jeongin prided himself on being composed despite his age, but tonight, all that confidence vanished in an instant. he’d been lounging on his bed after practice, casually snapping a picture to capture the golden glow of the setting sun through his window.

the photo was innocent enough, or so he thought — a relaxed pose, shirtless, with the blanket barely covering his hips. it was meant for seungmin, who’d jokingly challenged him to “prove” he was resting properly.

but in his sleepy haze, jeongin accidentally sent it to you instead.

he realized his mistake almost immediately when your name popped up with a notification. his stomach dropped, and panic set in.

your message arrived seconds later:

uh… is this the kind of ‘resting’ you meant to show me? 😳

jeongin groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “oh my god, i’m an idiot,” he muttered. he typed back as quickly as his trembling hands allowed.

“i am so sorry. that was not meant for you. please, just delete it and pretend this never happened.”

you replied almost immediately, and his heart raced as he opened your message.

delete it? why would i do that when it’s such a nice view?

his mouth fell open, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief coursing through him. he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or crawl under his blanket and never come out.

“are you seriously teasing me right now?” he finally typed, his cheeks burning.

maybe... but can you blame me? you’re not exactly making it easy to ignore.

jeongin let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head. “you’re impossible.”

i know.

jeongin sighed, a reluctant smile spreading across his face. while the initial shock of his mistake lingered, he couldn’t deny that your reaction made it worth the embarrassment.

han ⁺

han had always been impulsive, and that trait extended to his texting habits. he’d just finished a late-night studio session and decided to take a mirror selfie to show off his new haircut. the picture wasn’t inappropriate, but it was suggestive — he was shirtless, his hair slightly damp from a shower, with a cheeky grin on his face.

he meant to send it to chan, but in his half-asleep state, he sent it to you instead.

it wasn’t until your message came through that he realized his mistake.

right in front of my salad? 🤨

han’s eyes widened, and he sat up so fast he nearly knocked over his coffee mug. “oh no,” he muttered, his hands shaking as he typed back.

“omg, i’m so sorry! that was not meant for you! i was trying to send it to chan. please just forget you saw it.”

your reply came a moment later:

why? it was a nice picture. you should send me more.

han’s jaw dropped, his mind racing. was this really happening? were you actually flirting with him?

“wait, are you serious right now?” he replied cautiously.

very serious. you look good, han. don’t be so shy about it.

his face turned red, but a smile crept onto his lips. “i’m not shy!” he typed back defensively.

sure, you’re not...

han let out a laugh, shaking his head. “you’re dangerous, you know that?”

says the guy with his tiddies out for the world to see. wait, i wonder how much i can sell this for on ebay...

he flushed and sighed, leaning back in his chair. what started as a mortifying mistake was quickly becoming the most crack-filled interaction he’d ever had with you. maybe his impulsiveness wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

seung ⁺ min

seungmin was always known for his sharp wit and calm demeanor, rarely letting things rattle him. but tonight, that composure was nowhere to be found.

after a long day, he decided to respond to a group chat message with a selfie he’d taken earlier — a casual, post-workout shot that showed him in a tank top, his hair slightly messy, and his usual confident smirk. the picture wasn’t provocative, but it was undeniably attractive.

except he didn’t send it to the group chat. he sent it to you.

seungmin froze as he realized what he had done. his usual sharp mind went blank, replaced by a surge of panic. before he could even think of a way to delete it, your reply came through.

well, i wasn’t expecting this, but i’m not complaining. 😏

he stared at your message, his ears turning red as he tried to come up with a response. this wasn’t like him at all — how could he make such a mistake?

“uh, that wasn’t meant for you,” he finally typed, his thumbs trembling slightly. “i was trying to send it to the group chat. my bad.”

your reply came almost instantly.

no need to apologize, bbg. honestly, it’s nice to see this side of you. you look good, seungmin.

his jaw clenched as he reread your words. you were complimenting him?

“i didn’t mean for you to see it,” he replied quickly. “but… thanks, i guess?”

why so shy all of a sudden? i didn’t think you’d get flustered this easily.

“i’m not flustered,” he replied, though your teasing and his red face told a different story.

sure you’re not. but for what it’s worth, you’ve definitely made my night.

seungmin let out a small, awkward laugh, his confidence slowly returning. “well, i’m glad my mistake could entertain you,” he replied.

it’s more… eye-opening, than entertaining. although my rose toy would disagree.

seungmin choked, rereading your words. maybe this wasn’t the disaster he thought it was.

chang ⁺ bin

changbin was naturally confident, his playful energy making him the life of any room. but even he wasn’t immune to moments of pure, unfiltered embarrassment — like the one he was having now.

it started innocently enough: he’d taken a mirror selfie at the gym to show off his progress, flexing his biceps with a grin that screamed, “look at me, i’m unstoppable.” it was meant for chan, who’d been teasing him about skipping arm day.

but in his haste, changbin accidentally sent the picture to you.

the moment he realized his mistake, his stomach dropped. “oh no,” he muttered, staring at the screen in horror.

your reply came faster than he could process.

wow, changbin… showing off for me now? 👀

he groaned, his confidence taking a nosedive. he quickly typed back, “that was not meant for you. i was trying to send it to chan. please ignore it!”

you didn’t ignore it. instead, you replied,

why would you send it to him? and why should i ignore it? you look amazing honestly, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.

changbin blinked, your words catching him off guard. were you… complimenting him?

“wait… are you kidding me?” he replied cautiously.

of course not, i mean, if you’re gonna send me pictures like this, don’t blame me for appreciating them.

changbin let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “well, i wasn’t exactly trying to impress you, but… thanks, i guess?”

who said you didn’t impress me?

his heart skipped a beat at your tease, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “i guess if you’re not mad, i shouldn’t be so worried,” he typed, his confidence returning.

not mad at all. in fact, feel free to send more anytime.

changbin laughed out loud, shaking his head. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

and you love it.

“maybe i do,” he replied, surprising even himself with his boldness.

what started as an embarrassing mistake had suddenly become one of the most fun conversations he’d ever had with you.

notes: hoez in the house ( my smut fic is taking forever to finish :( )

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 31st. tom riddle — breeding kink, raw sex.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom has a dream about fucking you raw, and decides it’s time he ditches the self-restraint.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, needy tom riddle, fingering, slight begging, desperate sex, PIV, creampie, incoherent babbling/dirty talk, breeding kink, literally the most feralized and needy and pathetic tom i have ever written .

You wake up to the feeling of Tom at your back, sometime within the early hours of the morning. 

Not an unusual occurrence, per say, but you're vaguely aware of the fact that the desperate way he's gripping your waist and pressing against you isn't just par for the course—something's off—and you don't get to wonder or question what exactly it is because within a second he's pressing his lips to your neck, murmuring your name, and stealing your cognitive function before you even get the chance to wake. 

"What—" you manage to get out, just as his hand slides up the front of your shirt and his lips continue mouthing against your neck. 

"Hm?" He murmurs, as if he's doing nothing unusual, as if you aren't completely aware he's pressed up against you like an animal in heat.

"Are you," you're struggling to get the words out as his lips graze the spot on the nape of your neck that makes your breath catch. "Okay?" 

He stills for a moment at that, before he makes an amused sound in the back of his throat, as if the question is almost funny somehow. "Should I not be?"

"I just...mmf—" a whole body shudder goes through you as his hand reaches the underside of your breasts; palming, squeezing. "You seem—different." 

"Different," he echos against your neck with a smile. "In what way?"

"Uh, needier—oh," his hand slips from your chest to the front of your pyjama pants, grinding his erection against your ass. "What's—gotten into you—"

"You, of course," he husks, and the fact that he can be cocky while he's practically pinning you to his chest is the perfect bloody summary of him. "Who else?"

"Well—I mean—" the words leave your lips in a hissing moan as his hand, that beautiful, steady hand—slips under your waistband and wastes no time in finding your clit, long fingers swirling tight little circles against it. "What—ohhh—" 

"You do know that you're asking way too many questions," he whispers, teeth nipping at your ear lobe as he runs his index and middle fingers down your slit. "I'd rather you be moaning my name as opposed to doing a million cross-examinations on my behaviour."

Well, that certainly shuts you up, at least on the verbal side of things—because the gasp that leaves your lips is not entirely something you can control, considering the fact that you're suddenly very aware of just how badly he seems to need you right now.

"I think that was progress," he croons between open-mouthed kisses, absentmindedly making you shiver and jerk as his fingers resume rubbing and massaging your clit. "Good girl." 

You whimper faintly at that, and you wish you could hate the way you react to the praise on principle only—but that's kind of hard to do when it's him, and he's doing the praising in the first place. So instead, you just try to keep any kind of higher brain function intact, regardless of it being a losing battle at this point.

"I just need you," he practically groans, and it's the strangest thing to hear him say when he's usually just fine being all smug and self-composed. "I need to feel you, now."

It's the closest thing to him pleading that you think you've ever heard, and the guttural moan you let out as he slips one of those long slender fingers inside your embarrassingly slick cunt is the closest thing to feral as you're sure you've ever been. 

"Need," you whimper as your hips jerk, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time to realize that it's a sound you've made and not some kind of vocal fry of his. "Need me, why?" 

He doesn't answer right away, not in words—just sucks your earlobe into his mouth in a way that makes you want to scream. "You're not usually this difficult." 

"M'tired." The argument is weak, at best, but you're not exactly in any kind of frame of mind to try and make sense of the situation. "And you're—intense—"

"Yes," he murmurs, that smug tone still needling your eternal irritation. "And if you must know, it really is because of you. I had a dream about you." He punctuates the sentence by slipping a second finger into your slick heat, and you barely manage to keep a whimpering moan inside that you just know he would love to hear. "Fuck. It was a beautiful dream." 

He bites at your ear again, and it occurs to you that the desperate edge to his voice might have something to do with just how good the dream of you felt—or how badly he'd clearly wanted it to be real. 

You suddenly need to hear every goddamn detail. 

"Felt you for once, without protection," he tells you, as if reading your mind, and you whimper at what you're pretty sure is a pretty profound confession. "Even better than I thought you'd feel—fuck—"

"You're not the only one who's thought about that," you manage to get out, and you're not even being coy about it—at this point you're simply trying to deal with the realization that Tom Riddle having a wet dream about you is apparently enough to turn you into a pathetic, drooling mess. "But you are the one who's always been insistent on using condoms."

Oh, the low growl he lets out at that is a dangerous sound—it's low and guttural and it makes you realize that there's a very real chance this is going to go somewhere you might have trouble walking away from. 

"Yes, well," he pauses, and you can practically feel the fire in his eyes. "I'm just realizing I might have been a bit of a fool."

"You, admitting you're a fool?" You somehow give a half-assed scoff at the idea as you try to hold onto your sanity. "I think hell just froze over."

He laughs at that—actually laughs, and it does strange things to your insides to have it directed at you. 

"Maybe I'm just in a very specific sort of mood." 

"Oh?" You manage to raise an eyebrow. "And what kind of mood is that?"

"The kind of mood," he says, in an almost growl that you're trying to interpret through the haze of trying not to moan, "where I throw all reason out the window. The kind of mood where I forget all self-restraint."

"That's a dangerous thing, coming from you," you choke out, because that is true, but you're only half-thinking through your words before you say them, half your brain stolen by the curling of his fingers inside you, massaging your slick walls. "You don't usually—"

"Never," he cuts you off, like he's fully aware of just how different this is and trying not to admit it. "Until you."

Well, you don't know what to say to that—because you know him, and you know he doesn't usually lose himself in things like this, not like he's apparently doing now. 

"Oh?" You gasp, as his thumb sweeps over your clit, making your eyes roll. "So I've made you reckless." 

His answer comes in the form of a low, grunting sound of agreement, his grip on your body shifting a bit as he pulls you back tighter to his chest, rutting his erection against your ass. 

"You've done more than that," he murmurs with a sigh right in your ear as his slick fingers slip out to draw wet little circles against your clit. "Fuck it. I need to feel you—please, let me fuck you right. No protection."

Oh sweet Mother of Merlin.

There were a lot of words in that sentence that you were fucking sure, just a minute ago, were entirely out of the question for him. Not a soul on god’s green earth could have prepared you for the feeling that utterance just invoked—and you can't help but let out a helpless, wanton groan in response—his fingers driving you directly to the very edge of climax—

"I need a word out of you," he grits, and you realize then that you're both at the mercy of something he can only half control as he ruts against you again, his fingers slowing as if he's edging you— "please." 

You wish you could give him something teasing, snarky, maybe even witty. Something to needle him for just how beside himself he is, something to call him out for the feralized broken thing he's seemingly been reduced to. 

But you can't, because your climax is right there, and he's moving his fingers too slow, denying you of it on purpose—

"Yes," you whimper, the word like an answer to a prayer you hadn't even known you were praying for, and you realize somewhere behind your consciousness that you're desperate and aching inside for so many reasons, all of them because of him. "Please, fuck. Please, do it—I need—to cum—"

And at those words—that plea—the need in them, there's no stopping the sound that tears itself out of his throat, and before you can even think he's jerking your pyjama pants off your thighs—

"Wanna feel it—" he hisses as he frees himself next, tugging you against him and lifting your thigh toward your head. "Need to feel you cum when I'm inside you."

Oh, and at this point you're begging that you'll survive this. 

You're at his mercy, as you've been before, but in a completely different way—one that seems to be fueled by whatever animalistic thing is driving him today, and you're left with no defense besides the knowledge that he's doing this because if he didn't, he may just lose his goddamn mind. 

And for as much trouble you generally get into by enjoying him being cocky and in control of the narrative, this—this is something you've never once experienced. Tom on the edge of falling completely apart in his need for you, desperation and need taking a front seat to his usual restraint and control.

He's between your thighs before you can blink, and then he's pushing in. "Oh, fuck."

It's a sensation that's completely different when there's no barrier between you, and you're pretty sure that if it wasn't for the fact that the animal in his chest has risen to the surface, taking you by the throat, you would have gasped out in a moan so loud it woke the entire fucking country—but somehow, someway, you manage to tame it. 

His face buries in the crook of your shoulder, and it's a sound of guttural relief as his breath goes shaky and unsteady right in your ear.

"Feels so good," he whispers as he sinks in—as his thick, throbbing dick disappears into your greedy cunt. "Too good."

'Too good' feels like the exact wrong thing to say right now, at least in your mind, because you're pretty sure you'll take the fact that this feels so good you're scared it might kill you to your grave. 

"Oh my god." You manage to get out the words through the haze, and you're barely even sure what you're saying, your head thrown back against his shoulder, his arm coming up to wrap around your throat. "Oh my god, Tom." 

He responds with a shaky curse of your name, and you’re absolutely certain somewhere in you is exploding, something in your gut is coiled so tight it's like holding in the biggest possible secret of the world that you're desperate to scream to someone—

"So wet. So tight. I'm never starving myself of this again." It's a confession that steals your breath, and you struggle to keep breathing, struggling with trying to keep your world from spinning away as he starts to make shallow, languid thrusts into you, free hand slipping down to your clit. "Let me feel it. Let me feel it all."

You keen. "Fuck! Please."

It's the only word you can manage in a half-hysterical moan, your hand grabbing onto the one he's wrapped around your throat as if he's saving you from certain destruction, as if he's the only lifeline you'll ever find—and maybe, you think that's okay, because you're so used by him in so many ways that right now you don't even want another.

"T-tom—" his fingers swirl your clit in perfect time with his thrusts and you're clenching so tight your entire body is almost stiff. "Tommmm—I'm fucking—"

His teeth bite down on your shoulder with such ferocity you'd think he wanted it to bleed, and you're not even sure it's intentional as his body tenses against yours, tugging you back like he's trying to crush you into his chest. 

"Yes. Yes," he hisses again, and it's broken. "Please give it to me."

'Please give it to me' are the best five words you've ever heard from his mouth, you think with the quarter of your brain that’s still functioning—and it's like you've been waiting for permission without realizing it, because you feel fireworks going off behind your eyes a moment later. 

"Oh fuckk! Yes, yes, oh!" 

You cry out, so loud you'd be nervous about someone hearing you if the pleasure wracking your body wasn't so powerful you're pretty sure you're going to feel it all the way into next week—and there's a sound like something coming undone against your skin as his teeth dig deeper into your shoulder, a sound that's like a low, guttural moan of your name before he shutters something in half-broken words you're not even sure he's meant to.

"Oh yes—god, you're tight—fuck—"

You can't answer him, but it doesn't matter, because a moment later it's all painfully forgotten with the way he lets out another moan against your shoulder—

"That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. Just like that."

It's the pet name that does something to your insides, twisting them up in a way you can't quite parse through the haze, but it's enough in the moment to make tears prick unbidden at the corner of your eyes as he jerks against you, his breaths coming in shaky, heavy pants against your skin as his own climax draw closer, and there's no way this wasn't something you both needed that neither knew how to ask for. 

"Tom," you manage to whimper, and it sounds like a prayer of your own creation. "Tom—"

It's like he needed to hear you moan his name like that in a way that's primal—because in that moment his hand moves from your neck to your hair, and he clenches his fist into it, pulling, and it's enough to make a shattered moan force its way out of your chest and up to your throat. 

"M'close. Mmm. So fucking close," he hisses against your skin. "M'gonna—fill this tight cunt."

And god, it should be alarming, because you've always been careful, careful, careful—because you've always known the risks, the consequences, but right now you're having a hard time remembering why you ever thought it was a terrible, terrible idea to let him do this. 

"You're—Tom—you—"

"I know,” he groans, and it's like a plea, as if you're saying something out loud that he doesn't want to admit he knows— "just take it. Let me—fucking breed you."

There's a moment where your chest seems to constrict violently at that, where you're almost sure you must have a heart condition because it feels like skipping a beat is the under-explanation of the century, but it's gone as quickly as it came, and god if it wasn't as profoundly hot as you know it shouldn't be. 

“Jesus—Tom—“ there're a lot of things you know you should be saying, things you'd planned to say—or not do, as the case may be—but the only thing that leaves your lips at this moment is, “please."

And he doesn't know if it's a plea or a prayer, but either way it’s all the same because there’s no stopping the sound that leaves his lips as your answer sinks into his brain, as the meaning sinks into his bones: the low, guttural, primal sound of a man losing pieces of himself in something that he doesn't care to stop. 

"Oh—" he chokes out. "Oh god—"

It's like it's taking him like he wants it to, stealing him up in a way that both makes him feel both more whole than he's ever been and like he's lost more of himself than he can possibly cope with at every other moment all at once, and you're pretty damn sure you'll be the only thing that survives it, in the end— 

And then, he explodes. "Fuck—"

It's a choked-off sound that tears violently into the room without his permission, one that claws its way out of his chest and up his throat in a way that feels simultaneously like falling into and being pushed off of a cliff straight into oblivion—

"Mmm yes. Yes. Take it—" he's twitching inside you, hips trembling as he pumps his release deep within your walls. "Fuck. Fuck yes." 

There's a million and one responses to everything he's done and said in the last few minutes that dance on the tip of your tongue, but you're not entirely sure you have the mental capacity to do more than manage a shaky whimper at this point, and all you're even remotely sure you can do is respond to his own moans and gasps with ones of your own. 

"Tom," you whimper as he finally slows. As you both work to catch your breath. "I wish you had dreams like that more often."

He just laughs, a breathless, unsteady thing.

"That's my fucking girl." He mutters. "All mine."

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: In this episode none!

In futures episodes: Violence, Strong language, female main character is considered heterosexual but she have feelings for a female (Cho Hyun-ju) and it is reciprocated, abuse for male characters.

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You were stupid, very stupid and naive, that was what you repeated to yourself every day since your ex-boyfriend scammed you and abandoned you in a country where you didn't know anyone, you couldn't even understand the language well and now you were locked up in a place full of strangers in a green uniform and with a headache you could barely bear.

Why were you doing such stupid things? You should have said no when that man approached you and offered you money, it was all for the damn money, otherwise how would you find another way to get home?

Barely a day had passed, you understood little of the first game where you saw one person after another die around you, what you had gotten yourself into, this wasn't a game, it was a massacre, as you sat cross-legged on the cold bed that had been assigned to you you could feel your hands shaking and you felt warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

Hey - a kind voice rumbled slowly but enough to wake you from your trance to look up and see a boy with long, slicked-back hair holding a small metal tray - I noticed you didn't come over for your food, I brought you some

His equally shaky hand moved a little closer to you, leaving the tray on the bed, staring at you, afraid you'd react

It's okay if you don't want to eat it, it's just that if we're going to keep playing you need strength for tomorrow - his kind but shy smile and his clear disinterest in leaving made you wipe your tears with the sleeves of your sweater, nodding taking a deep breath - Thanks - you told him, trying not to sound upset, because you really weren't and if you were it was only with yourself

My name is Dae-Ho, yours is… 144 - he looked at you curiously taking a bite of his food

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you sighed, hugging your legs uncomfortably and nervous

Hey, leave her alone - a loud and somewhat curious voice sounded behind Dae-Ho making the two look towards the sound - don't you see that you're making her uncomfortable? go away

I… I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just that… - Dae-Ho looked at you embarrassed, walking away just a few steps

You don't have to give explanations, go away - the girl, a little taller than Dae-Ho, looked at him firmly, almost annoyed, following the man with her gaze as he walked away quickly and embarrassed, joining a group of men on the other shelf of beds

you can eat in peace - the girl looked at you kindly while you only responded with a slight nod and she walked away returning to her place two beds down on the shelf next to you

It was difficult for you not to go unnoticed and it was obvious that everyone wanted to get away from you, you weren't like them, you didn't share their nationality, their traditions, or their topics of conversation, you didn't even understand many of them what they were talking about, they all looked at you like a weirdo, like why a foreigner could come and want to steal their prize, it was unfair.

That's how you spent the first night, alone, trembling from the cold and fear, looking into the darkness while you cried silently and the gunshots echoed in your ears, it was a nightmare and that's how you were until sleep overcame you

The second day wasn't any better, you could barely carry yourself, you were tired, hungry and much more scared than yesterday, surrounded by hundreds of people in a courtyard with drawings of children and rainbows on the floor.

''Now, it's time to form teams of 5, you have 10 minutes'' the voice of the speaker sounded repeatedly before an alarm sounded and you saw how everyone ran looking for members for their team, but everyone seemed to avoid you like a plague.

They ran and pushed you but no one looked at you to join and if they looked at you it was to laugh and murmur

There she was again, standing in front of you with a sad look that barely met your eyes she looked at the floor and walked by your side.

Hey… - you murmured barely, only to her with fear and shame - if you still don't have a team… I can join you if you don't mind - she looked at you over her shoulder giving a sigh of relief nodding offering you her hand so she could walk by your side and not get lost in the crowd

Between your fingers you could notice the difference in size between your small and fragile hand and hers, it was big with a different strength and somewhat rough but still made you feel protected and confident

So you both walked almost in circles finding the fragile old woman and her son and then the little girl with bangs forming a team of 5

Again the games were confusing for you, you could identify some that resembled what you had once played in your country but fear consumed you making your hands tremble again

Calm down - her voice again fragile but somewhat thick made you look at her holding the air - everything will be fine, don't push yourself too much okay? Do you think you can take charge of throwing the rocks? It's just a matter of taking a rock, throwing it and making the second one fall, that's all you have to do - her voice was like a murmur trying not to interrupt the game of the first two teams that were participating

Should I just throw it? - you looked at her nervously, looking at her dark eyes behind her bangs

You just have to throw it, it's easy - she smiled at you giving you hope making you smile barely as you looked at the floor again nervously trying not to think about everything that was tormenting your head, in the background you could hear the screams and cheers that the other players made while the teams participated until a round of gunshots made you jump scared covering your ears and closing your eyes tightly - calm down, calm down nothing is happening - her arms surrounded you quickly, adjusting you against her chest, you could feel the strands of her hair on your face and a slight aroma of herbs coming from it - it's over, don't open your eyes until I tell you okay?

Your head barely nodded as you took a deep breath, the aroma of her hair made you remember the gardens where you walked when you first arrived in South Korea and her arms for some reason made you feel protected, nothing could happen to you

A couple of minutes (that seemed like an eternity) passed slowly, people were talking, some were crying and in the background you could hear the sound of the sirens of the forklifts that had come to pick up the bodies, one second after another it was a damn nightmare.

''Next team, you can take your position'' the voice from the speaker again

It's our turn - the old woman sighed getting up while you opened your eyes and stood up slowly with fear

The guards tied your ankles and after a shot the game for you began.

You walked counting the steps, being constant and fast in your tasks, first Ddjaki, the little girl with the bangs did well, then the flying rock, your trembling hands held it strong and letting out a deep sigh you threw it against the rock in the distance failing in the attempt

Girl concentrate, what's wrong with you! - the old woman shouted making your friend look at her annoyed and after her firm indication and walking as a team to pick it up the 5 of them returned to their position - don't fail, please girl!

We trust you… calm down, take a breath and throw it, you'll do well - Your new best friend looked at you smiling lightly giving you courage.

A sigh again, a fixed look at the rock and after throwing it it fell with a blow.

Everyone screamed, applauded and so on again until reaching the final task ''Team 2, you have completed your tasks'' you had never been so happy to hear that spooky voice on the speaker and once the guards untied your ankles they all ran screaming and laughing to the fence that separated you from the rest of the players, you could finally return to the dormitory and finally had survived another day.

Everyone was happy, so much so that all of you were jumping and screaming with excitement, your friend, the tall girl ran to you without wasting a second surrounding you with her strong arms making you spin in the air while both of you laughed

We did it, I told you, we did it right - she laughed jumping with you still in her arms making you scream when you felt the air on your face and your legs hanging in the air

Now, stop it, you're going to make her dizzy - the old woman laughed patting her back as a sign that it was enough until you heard gunshots in the distance again making the team erase their smile and remember the horrible place where they were

Come on let's sit down - her hand slowly and carefully took yours walking towards the bed shelves climbing up and sitting on the steps - are you okay?

Yes… I'm pretty well, thanks for helping me - you smiled rubbing your hands on your legs nervously

By the way, my name is Cho Hyun-Ju… are you? - she looked at you curiously

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you smiled shyly at her

You have a very pretty name - she smiled back shyly with her cheeks slightly tinted - thanks for letting me join you in the game you were the only person who approached me

You don't have to thank me, I think we are both rejected for certain reasons and that makes us unique in the crowd right? it's better to be united and be stronger than alone - your cheeks felt hot, the sign that they were red like cherries

You're right..

Part 2 ✨

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Thanks for reading, this is the first episode I've written about Squid Game and it was short since I have little time to update but I didn't want to go to sleep without writing the beginning of the story, I have ideas but I'd like to hear yours and write them down, just to reinforce the theme of this story the reader and Cho Hyun-ju will possibly have a romance so if these themes aren't to you please don't read it, I know you'll find something that suits your tastes. 🫶🏻

Again, Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

BTW: Happy New Year everyone 🥂✨

[steddiealltheway]

1984 is not Steve Harrington’s year.

Not only does he find out that his girlfriend doesn’t actually love him, but somehow the creepy monster thing that united his now ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend, came back in the form of some type of monster dog.

The highlight of his year might actually be befriending a nerdy middle schooler who introduced him to said monster dog - which he named Dart of all things... something to do with a candy bar.

He groans at the thought as the music from downstairs carries into his room. For some reason, Tommy Hagan decided to temporarily ignore the fact that he ditched Steve for the new keg king, Billy Hargrove, who managed to give Steve something else to worry about while literal Hell crawled its way into Hawkins, in favor of throwing a New Year's Eve party in the Harrington residence.

Typical for the year Steve's having. Why not end it horribly too?

He glances at the clock, relieved that it's already somewhat close to midnight. If it weren't for the noise, he would consider trying to sleep through this one. Instead, he lays back on his bed and hopes that no one tries to disturb him.

As if the universe can hear his thoughts, and then curse them, the door to his bedroom swings open.

Steve sits up with a huff and frowns at the person.

A guy with medium length curly hair and doe eyes stares back at him with a big smile that screams chaos.

"Sorry, dude," Steve says, "Bedroom is off limits. Go hookup, smoke, or whatever somewhere else."

Instead of leaving, the guy closes the door behind him and locks it.

Steve scoots back on the bed, hand reaching back to wrap around the nail bat he leaves behind his nightstand.

The dude raises his hands in mock surrender, silver rings glinting in the light streaming in from Steve's window - blinds open enough so he can make sure no one does anything weird in his pool. "Listen, man, I'm not here to hurt you or anything. Although you might hurt me when you hear why I'm here."

There's something about his voice that sounds familiar to Steve when it suddenly hits him - all the yelling and stomping around on tabletops. "You're Eddie Munson."

Eddie smiles and bows dramatically. "Guilty as charged."

Steve's frown deepens, and for a fleeting moment he thinks Dustin would really like the guy. "So, why would I hurt you if I hear you out?"

"Because, Steve," Eddie draws out his name as if it has a deeper meaning, "I was downstairs thinking about what a wonderful year I've had, and I decided that I might as well start the year with a little chaos."

Steve's grip tightens around the bat in case he's some sort of satanic serial killer or something, although his gut tells him that he shouldn't be scared of the man. "What do you mean by chaos?"

There's a strange glint in Eddie's eye when he shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on the feet as if he wants to move closer to Steve but has decided to plant himself by his door. "I mean... I came to this party to sell my supply and after my whole lunchbox was cleaned out, I started thinking about who I should kiss at midnight. Or more precisely, who would be the worse option, or rather, the option that would bring the most-"

"Chaos. Yeah, I got that part," Steve cuts him off.

Eddie's smile changes to something genuine for a moment as he comments, "Wow, Steve Harrington is actually listening to me."

Steve rolls his eyes, grip loosening on the bat. "I'd rather you not stand on my desk to get my attention." To Steve's surprise, Eddie actually laughs in response and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to hide his smile. And to Steve's much greater surprise, his heart starts beating a little faster and he finds it harder to not smile back at him. "So, chaos?" Steve prompts.

"Right," Eddie says, rocking on his feet again, "Chaos." He ducks his head for a moment as if hyping himself up for the next thing he's going to say, which is when Steve entirely releases his grip on the bat, realizing that Eddie is more scared of him. "So, I thought, to start the year off with the most chaos, I would choose someone to kiss that would bring the most chaos. And I thought, why not the host of this party?"

Steve frowns. "Tommy's downstairs."

Eddie mirrors his frown. "You're not hosting?"

"Why would I be in my room if I'm hosting?"

"Why would the party be in your house if you're not hosting?"

It suddenly hits Steve. "Wait, you want to kiss me?"

Eddie takes a step back, hovering even closer to the door than he was before. "Consensually, of course."

It takes a moment for Steve to fully process what is being asked. "You think I'm the worst option to kiss?"

"That's what you're asking?" Eddie asks, trailing off to mutter something like, "The fragile ego of athletes, I swear."

"I got dumped this year. Of course my ego is low."

Eddie smiles bashfully. "Sorry, my uncle always tells me I'm not as quiet as I think I am." And there's something about Eddie's cheeks that are slightly flushed, the strand of hair he starts tugging at again, and the way he can't stop bouncing as if he's buzzing with energy and nerves that makes him so...

"Yes," Steve blurts out suddenly. For a moment, he wonders if the mindf- mind fly? mind... whatever evil thing from a few weeks ago has possessed him.

"Yes what?" Eddie asks sounding genuinely confused. As Steve stands up to look out his blinds and shut them, Eddie rambles, "Yes, I'm not as quiet as I think I am? Or yes, you're about to punch me, and I'm going to finally figure out how it felt when you got your face bashed in a few weeks ago?"

Steve rolls his eyes before holding up both of his hands, mimicking Eddie's pose when he first came into the room. "Yes, I'll kiss you."

It's as if Eddie has forgotten he's asked the question the way his jaw drops, and he stares at Steve like he's said the most confusing thing he's ever heard. Which... to be fair... is highly likely.

"You want to kiss me?"

Steve takes a small step closer to Eddie. "I want to give you your chaos."' When Eddie doesn't look convinced, Steve takes a step closer to him, hand running through his hair as he continues, "Who knows, maybe it'll give me good luck or something for next year by cancelling out the chaos from this year."

Eddie nods. "Okay. You're giving me your chaos. Yeah. That makes sense."

"And you're taking my chaos away," Steve agrees, trying to tell himself that this is a rational decision. "This makes sense."

"You're not going to beat me up?" Eddie asks, risking a small step away from the door.

Steve shakes his head. "Seems like a bad way to start the year, don't you think?"

Eddie nods as Steve steps closer to him, slowly, as if not to startle him away. "You know, I thought just asking you would be chaotic enough as is and then I could run away and pretend you hallucinated or something when you tried to beat me up."

"Should've asked Hargrove then," Steve says, cocking his head to the side. "Does that mean you don't actually want to kiss me?"

Eddie swallows and shakes his head. "I didn't say that."

Just as Steve gets in front of Eddie, he hears people downstairs counting down from ten. "Good," Steve says, "Because there isn't enough time to find someone else."

Eddie scoffs, the countdown now at eight, "That's not true for you."

"Maybe, but I'm not really looking to find anyone else right now. Are you?" Five.

Eddie smiles and takes a step forward. "No." Three.

Steve reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear. "Good." One.

Steve's not really sure who moves first or if they move together, but the yells of, "Happy New Year" are drowned out as Eddie's lips meet his in a kiss that feels more desperate than Steve expected. He's not sure why they're kissing as if the countdown was for the end of the world, but he really doesn't care.

It's only when Steve's gets a little carried away, Eddie's back slams against Steve's door with a thud that's loud enough to alert anyone that something's happening in Steve's room, that Steve breaks away with a gasp, seeking the air Eddie's stolen from him. He wonders if - hopes - it's the chaos he's taken.

"Happy New Year," Steve whispers, hands cupping Eddie's face while Eddie's are tangled in the mess he's made of Steve's hair. He's not sure when either of those things happened.

"Happy fucking New Year, Steve," Eddie mutters, hands slowly dropping from his hair.

Steve's hands hold onto Eddie's face a little tighter for a moment, and he sees the moment a bit of fear sparks in Eddie's eyes. Steve quickly shakes his head. "No, I'm not about to beat you up. It's just... I kind of slammed you against the door a little hard there, and if someone else is up here and they see you..."

"Chaos," Eddie fills in with a nod, "And not the good kind."

"Yeah," Steve sighs, "Not the good kind." He glances to his window where the blinds are firmly shut - thank you Jonathan for teaching him that lesson - and down at the locked doorknob before looking back at Eddie. He glances at his lips momentarily before blurting out, "Stay with me."

Eddie's jaw drops, mouth opening slightly in shock.

Steve steps back, hands reluctantly leaving Eddie's face. "Stay until everyone clears out at least. No ulterior motive."

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets and moves back into Steve's space. "What if I want there to be an ulterior motive?" He tilts his head down and gives Steve a case of lethal puppy dog eyes. "Fully take your chaos away, remember?"

Steve is absolutely sure that this in no way will take away the chaos of his previous year and will likely only invite questions, confusion, and further chaos into 1985.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, pulling Eddie into another desperate kiss.

Maybe Eddie was onto something about starting the year with a little chaos. And maybe 1985 will be his year.

(i accidentally wrote a tiny epilogue later in the tags that i really like)

[softness-and-shattering]

It can genuinely be really scary, to find yourself wondering "hey if there was a fire right now, could I get up, or would I just lie here?" Because youve been in overdrive and overdrive is broken. Id like to believe that the will to live would prevail but I wouldnt know until I was in that situation. Is real danger processed differrently to psychological danger?

I did have a situation the other night struggling to get food together for dinner, my partner was also exhausted, we planned badly (not at all) for shops being closed and I had a few moments of "guess we're starving tonight then". And then I was just up and moving toward the kitchen to see what could be scrounged. Im not sure I made a conscious decision to do so. Theres a tiny bit of, its not quite learned helplessness, its like theres levels of Cant Do A Thing. And sometimes when Thing Needs Doing and you Cant, but no one else can, its like it increases in urgency and then you reavaluate your spoons. Like a lot of the time my partner helps me with things I could technically do, but if I did Id be in more pain, Id have less energy to do things I enjoy that makes life worthwhile, and to her its not such a big deal to do. And sometimes we pingpong a task back and forth trying to measure how deep we would each have to dig to get it done and who will have the very relatively easier time. And sometimes the push does come with more pain, or meltdown, or panic, or tears. Some tasks just arent negotiable.

One of the worst things about being disabled, the most draining, and I sort of forgot it was unusual till Hank Green mentioned it in one of his videos about his cancer, that it was a new amd exhausting ezperience for him. Youre having to make countless decisions day in and day out. Constantly measuring energy against task against urgency or need, against survival vs fun and enjoyment, against what else is planned for the day and the week and the month, am I choosing between tasks, am I even calculating correctly. On top of that, constant monitoring of the self. How am I feeling, are these known symptoms, do they need treatment right now, ok which treatment? Is this abnormal, is it worrying, should I mention it to my dr? How long since I last had painkillers? This symptom has three conditions in common, if its a migraine I need meds immediately but if its just dehydration I dont want to be taking meds I dont need -

And on top of that is actual appointments. I had to take a months long break from most medical care because I burnt out of being able to convey relevant information and understand relevant information and parse it all and make decisions about treatment and tests. and then scheduling and scheduling and scheduling, theres only so many appointments one can attend in a week in a month so everything takes time and if you overbook you end up crashed and panicked and unable to function to even show up and its endless. Its hundreds of important health related decisions day in and day out and then we still have to decide what to eat for lunch like everyone else. On less capacity than everyone else.

Sometimes you just need to step back and rest for an hour a day a week a month. A couple years. Pacing is difficult. Resting is absurdly difficult. Im definitely out of spoons for more of this rn. Its. A lot. Burnout is so so real and the only way through is maximum rest.

One thing I don't think the Spoon metaphor has helped able-bodied people understand is that you can overdraw.

Generally, for most conditions, running out of spoons doesn't mean you collapse, doesn't produce an effect they can actually see. What it means is that you run on life support, quite possibly unsafely, until you get to a safe place and can stop. But you'll owe those spoons back, with interest. You'll have hurt yourself to do it.

Sometimes I hang out with a friend and they'll be like, wow, I'm really glad you had a good day. And I have to decide whether to make them feel bad by explaining that in fact they did not catch me on a good day, and tomorrow will probably be bad. I just made choices.

[sidneywasfound]

FORCED TO COUPLE THERAPY | Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Pairing; Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary; The relationship between Charles and you these last few days has been complicated... especially in an intimate part of your relationship. Causing Charles to be in a bad mood all day, so his new teammate forces him to do couples therapy with you and a sexologist.

Warnings; Smut & Fluff,Hair grabbing,unprotected sex,Bad English writing,Talks about sex,Sex therapy,Not being able to have an orgasm,Sex problems,Charles being a jerk at first.

AUTHORS NOTE;It's not my best work, but I'll improve it in the future.

Charles was pounding You from the back,You clinged to the bed,Thinking that maybe that would make You feel something. Charles let out a whine,It really seemed like he was trying."hey...Do you want me to ride you? This happens sometimes and maybe if we change position..." You said turning your head to look at him,He looked upset and exhausted."i'm fine just- shut that precious little mouth,ok?" He said in a passive aggressive manner, making you doubt his tone."i'm sorry...just wanted to help. It's not something that can be hidden you know, I thought maybe... changing position your-" Charles let out a grunt to your statement,suddendly,he stopped and pulled out."Ok, ugh fine let's do the fucking positon." He said with annoyance sitting up,Leaning his back against the headboard of the bed."Don't be mean charles..." You said, grabbing the edge of the headboard and putting your legs on either side of Charles.

You rode him in the best way possible, a very sexy image,Your tits bouncing with every sit,You leaned back and moved your hips back and forth,Charles with his hands on your hips. "And?, You like it?" You said with a labored breath, he hums,his eyes are closed,he looks like he's trying to concentrate to feel any pleasure...and you were surprised when he managed to get an erection...But to be honest, you didn't feel anything either. "we should stop." You said leaving Charles and lying down next to him."What?!,Nono why mon chéri?." You turned around,facing your back to him."We're just tired, let's try again tomorrow." You said sharply,He just sighed and turned over to sleep.

//

Ferrari had a kind of virtual call to talk about some things about Hamilton and his adaptation to the team. His anger and bad mood were very noticeable.

//

"Good morning, My name is Sarah and I will be your therapist today".Both were sitting on two armchairs,There was a coffee table and in front of them Sarah was there,siting with a notebook and a pen."Could you two please tell me your names?" You smiled softly,while Charles was upset of being there."My name is Y/n and he's Charles,but i know you already know him" she scoffed."well i do haha,I was surprised a f1 driver like Charles actually have problems in his intimate life." The two of them opened their eyes wide and blushed."W-what? Hehe I thought this was couples therapy"You said smiling nervously "Yes... I help couples in the sexual field, I am a sexologist."She mentally hit her head and Charles gave a small gasp "FRED SENT US TO A SEXOLOGIST?!" Sarah laughed lightly."Yes, I am a support contact at Ferrari, he told me about your problems and I decided to accept."She grabbed the notebook and looked at them."should we start the session?" You nodded but Charles decides to interrumpt,Speaking proudly with his thick accent."In my defense I think they are wrong, we are fine! Our sex life is perfect." Charles said crossing his legs."Well, her face says other thing..." Sarah said, noting your overwhelmed face. Charles just growled angrily and sat up properly.

"Let's start with something simple, tell me, What is the reason You needed my help".You decided to speak when you saw that Charles was pretending that nothing was happening."I can't finish, and Charles can barely get an erection."You said sharply, Charles almost spit out the water from the glass that was on the table." I admire your confidence to Say it." Sarah said writing that down."Now that we have the problem let's start,How often do you have sexual activity?"They both felt the heat on their faces at her explicit questions."How long this will lassst?..."He said, dragging out his words in an annoyed tone.

—"Are you comfortable talking about sex and can you communicate your desires and preferences?"

—"What kind of sexual activities do you engage in?"

—"is some problem in your relationship getting in the way?"

—"do you use birth control? Does it bother you that only you use birth control?"

—"Do you feel emotionally connected during sex?..."

Shit that's it... that resonated on both of them making them raise their heads in surprise.Sarah noticed this and stopped writing down."Ok this is what we will do, some exercises to be able to connect in bed, okay?" Charles and you looked at each other in embarrassment, completely disconnected from each other.

///

"Go out to see a movie and enjoy it, and if it happens, it happens, we don't want to force the date into a 'let's do this quickly so we can have sex'

They tried and failed, now they were both lying in bed staring at the ceiling."i liked the movie" You said trying to break the awkward silence."What will happen to our relationship?" Charles said."i don't know..."You said,Putting your head on his chest."i love You"Charles said leaving you surprised."i love You too Charles" You said looking at him and giving him a kiss. It was slow and soft, he had a hand cupping your cheek. Suddenly the kiss turned passionate and wild, the two were now sitting on their knees face to face."i love You i love You" Charles said desperately between kisses."i love You too,fuck i love you" You said grabbing his hair and pulling him closer to you.

Are You guys joking? That was all that they needed? Saying i love You after a freaking date...? and also express their feelings,And go on a date after almost 1 year without going on one,And realize that they actually cared about each other. I guess it worked, because now they were riding Charles, he was immersed in your breasts,You grabbed his hair while he kissed your body."ah..Charles...fuck" You moaned as he kissed your neck while you moved your hips on his lap."

///

"Well! The problem is solve! You can now leave with these discharge papers." Sarah said giving them papers to sign."Papers?" You said confused."Yes, I must notify the Ferrari guidance team about this." Sarah said smiling kindly.Charles and you blushed knowing that probably all the Ferrari workers knows about your sex life."haha...Now everyone knows we couldn't have sex."You scoffed nervously."oh don't be naive!,everyone have problems once in their life with sex! Last week Lewis had a session." Charles eyes went wide."oh god...This paper will look bad on Fred's desktop but now I can make fun of Lewis!" He said joking.

[troyo-boyo]

Grounded in Chaos (Paige Bueckers x Reader)

Summary:When Paige and her friend KK turn a quiet evening into chaos, you end up grounding Paige to get some peace for studying. But Paige's playful attempts at "responsibility" and her quirky distractions make for a funny and frustrating night, reminding you that even a grounding can't tame her energy.

Wordcount:2.9k

The sun had barely begun to set, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sky, but inside your shared apartment, chaos reigned supreme. It was supposed to be a quiet evening, a time for you to focus on studying for your upcoming finals. Books, highlighters, and scattered notes covered every inch of the dining table, a testament to the academic war you were waging.

But peace and focus? Those had left the building the moment Paige Bueckers, your girlfriend, and KK Arnold, her partner in crime, decided to turn the living room into their personal playground. The sound of laughter, basketballs bouncing, and sneakers squeaking on hardwood echoed through the apartment, threatening to shred your last nerve.

You had tried to get used to this, tried to embrace it, even. Paige and KK had a dynamic that was infectious, their energy contagious in the worst and best ways. They'd been best friends for years, so their connection was like a magnetic force that never seemed to let up. Paige, with her easy confidence and her larger-than-life persona, was a force of nature in herself. KK, on the other hand, with her quick wit and an attitude that could melt anyone, made it impossible not to get swept up in whatever wild thing she decided to do next. It wasn't always easy to keep up with them, but you loved them—crazy as they were.

Still, tonight, you needed peace. You had an exam the next day and couldn't afford another round of procrastination. The hours you'd already put in should have been enough to make you feel confident, but the pressure to excel in every aspect of your life weighed heavily. That pressure was only made worse by the constant interruptions from the duo in the next room.

"Okay, okay, watch this," KK's voice rang out, filled with excitement.

You glanced up from your notes just in time to see KK toss a basketball in Paige's direction. Paige caught it effortlessly, grinning like the confident star she was, and immediately attempted a trick shot aimed at the laundry basket across the room.

The ball ricocheted off the rim of the basket, bounced off the wall, and narrowly missed your stack of notes. You froze, your pen hovering mid-air, as the ball rolled under the table.

"Oops," Paige said, biting her lip to stifle a laugh.

"Oops?" you repeated, your voice dripping with disbelief. "Paige, KK, I'm trying to study here!"

"Babe, you've been at it all day," Paige said, grabbing the ball and tossing it back to KK. "You need a break."

"Yeah," KK chimed in, dribbling the ball. "Come on, live a little! Finals will still be there tomorrow."

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your cool. "If I fail because I didn't study, finals won't be the only thing I'm dealing with tomorrow. So please, can you two just... not?"

For a moment, they seemed to take your words seriously. Paige nodded solemnly, and KK mimicked the gesture, both of them wearing exaggerated expressions of mock remorse. You sighed, relieved that they were finally going to leave you in peace.

But, of course, it didn't last.

"Bet you can't bank it off the fridge," KK challenged Paige, holding up the basketball like a trophy.

"Oh, you're on," Paige shot back, her competitive spirit ignited.

"You have got to be kidding me," you muttered, dropping your pen and burying your face in your hands. The sound of the ball bouncing against the fridge and then the floor was the final straw.

"That's it!" you exclaimed, pushing back your chair and standing up. Both Paige and KK froze mid-laugh, the basketball caught awkwardly between them. You rarely got angry, but when you did, the temperature in the room seemed to drop, and both of them instinctively knew they had crossed the line.

"Uh-oh," KK whispered dramatically, her usual bravado noticeably shaken.

"Paige Madison Bueckers," you began, your tone firm and low, a sure sign you meant business. KK and Paige exchanged wide-eyed glances, their expressions a mix of fear and regret.

"I'm grounding you. You're grounded."

Paige blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

"You heard me. You're grounded," you repeated, crossing your arms.

"Wait, can you even ground me?" Paige asked, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a grin.

"I can, and I just did," you shot back. Your tone left no room for argument, and Paige's grin faltered slightly as she realized you were not messing around.

"What about basketball?" Paige asked, her tone suddenly serious.

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Fine. Other than basketball, you're grounded."

Paige exchanged a glance with KK, who looked like she was enjoying every second of this despite the palpable tension.

"Okay, so no TV," you continued.

Paige raised an eyebrow. "The TV's already broken."

You frowned. "Then no computer."

"I need the computer for school," Paige pointed out, her tone oh-so-reasonable.

You glared at her, searching for something—anything—to ban. "Then no, uh... no KK."

KK's eyes widened in mock horror. "What? No KK?"

"NO KK!" you repeated, pointing a finger at her for emphasis.

The room fell silent for a beat before Paige burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching her sides. KK looked between the two of you, her expression a mix of indignation and amusement, but she clearly understood you weren't in the mood for further antics.

"You can't just ban me," KK protested, albeit more cautiously than usual.

"I just did," you replied, your voice steady despite the ridiculousness of the situation. "No KK until I've finished studying."

Paige wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing, but her laughter was tinged with a nervous edge. "Oh my god, babe, you're the best."

"I'm serious," you said, glaring at both of them.

"Alright, alright," Paige said, holding up her hands in surrender. "We'll leave you alone. No more basketball, no more chaos. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you muttered, sitting back down and picking up your pen.

For the next few minutes, the apartment was blessedly quiet. You managed to get through an entire page of notes without interruption, a feat that felt like a minor miracle. But just as you started to feel hopeful, you heard a faint whisper.

"Psst, KK," Paige whispered loudly.

"What?" KK whispered back, equally loud.

You looked up, narrowing your eyes. "What are you two doing?"

"Nothing!" they chorused, their faces the picture of innocence.

Moments later, a small paper airplane landed on your notes. You unfolded it to find a crude drawing of yourself, complete with steam coming out of your ears. Beneath it, Paige had written, We're sorry... kind of.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. "You two are impossible," you said, shaking your head.

"But you love us," Paige said, her grin wide and unrepentant.

"Unfortunately," you teased, rolling your eyes.

Despite the chaos, you couldn't deny that life with Paige and KK was never boring. Frustrating? Sure. Exhausting? Absolutely. But in the end, their laughter and love made every moment worthwhile even if it meant grounding your girlfriend and her partner in crime from time to time.

Just as you settled back into your study groove, the sound of KK whispering something mischievous to Paige snapped your concentration yet again. You slammed your notebook shut and stood up, your patience officially at zero.

"That's it. KK, out. Now," you declared, pointing toward the door.

"What? Me?" KK said, her voice a mix of shock and amusement. But there was a hint of hesitation, a flicker of genuine concern that showed she wasn't keen on pushing you any further.

"Yes, you," you said firmly. "You're officially evicted for the night. Go home. Do whatever you do when you're not here. Just let me study in peace!"

Paige burst out laughing again, but KK put on her best pout. "This is unfair. I thought we were friends."

"We are. And as your friend, I need you to leave before I lose my mind," you said, walking over to grab her jacket from the hook by the door.

KK reluctantly stood, taking her jacket with exaggerated slowness. "Fine, but just so you know, this is a betrayal I'll never forget."

"Oh, I'll sleep just fine," you said dryly, opening the door.

KK walked out, but not before turning back dramatically. "Paige, remember me. Tell my story."

"Get out!" you said, laughing despite yourself as you shut the door behind her.

The apartment fell into blissful silence. Paige leaned against the couch, still chuckling. "You're kind of scary when you're mad, you know that?"

"You should keep that in mind the next time you decide to turn the apartment into a gym," you replied, sitting back down. "Now, are you going to behave, or should I ground you again?"

Paige held up her hands. "I swear, I'll be good."

"Good," you said, picking up your pen again. "Because if I have to get up one more time, I'm grounding everyone in this building."

Paige laughed, but this time, she kept her promise, letting you study in peace at last.

Minutes later, the sound of soft footsteps caught your attention. You glanced up to see Paige slipping toward the door, clearly attempting to follow after KK.

"Don't even think about it," you warned.

Paige froze, her hand inches from the doorknob. "What? I was just—"

"If you leave out that door," you said, your voice dropping to an ominous calm, "I'll be talking to Coach about giving you extra suicides."

Paige's eyes widened, and she stepped back from the door immediately. "Okay, okay. Point taken. I'm staying."

"Good choice," you replied, turning back to your notes.

Paige flopped onto the couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. "You're terrifying sometimes, you know that?"

"And you're exhausting," you retorted, smirking. "Now sit down, be quiet, and let me study."

"Yes, ma'am," Paige muttered, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. For the first time all evening, silence finally reigned in the apartment.

A few moments passed before Paige broke the silence, her voice soft but filled with mischief. "Hey, babe..."

"Don't," you warned, but your smile betrayed your attempt at sternness. "Don't even think about it."

Paige laughed quietly, but complied, sinking deeper into the couch as she finally let you study in peace.

As you bent over your notes, the silence in the apartment stretched out longer than it ever had before. For a few minutes, you were able to concentrate, the weight of your looming finals feeling just a bit lighter. But then you felt it—the weight of Paige's gaze, pressing on you from across the room.

You glanced up from your textbook and found Paige sitting on the couch, her chin resting on her hand. Her eyes were wide and focused on you, but there was a distinct lack of interest. She was watching you study, not in an admiring way, but more in the way someone might stare at a TV show they don't really like but can't look away from.

"Are you... seriously just watching me study?" you asked, your voice laced with amusement.

Paige didn't respond immediately. Instead, she let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically falling back onto the couch with her arms spread wide. "I don't know how you do it, babe. How can you just sit there for hours reading and writing and... whatever it is you do? It's like torture."

You couldn't help but laugh at her exaggeration. "I don't have a choice. Finals wait for no one."

"Yeah, I get that," Paige said with a half-hearted wave, "but this is boring. It's just... you're just sitting there, doing the same thing over and over. And I can't even bother you! You said I was grounded!"

You turned your attention back to your notes, fighting the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Exactly. You're grounded. You need to learn some discipline."

Paige groaned dramatically and rolled onto her side, her face buried in the couch cushion. "Ugh, this is like prison." She peeked up at you, her eyes twinkling. "Well, if I can't distract you, maybe I can just entertain myself in other ways."

You shot her a sideways glance. "What are you thinking?"

A mischievous grin spread across her face as she sat up. "Well, since I'm grounded, I guess I'll be productive too." She stood up, stretching dramatically. "I'll organize my life!"

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going. "Organize your life?"

Paige nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! Grounded or not, I've got to get things done." She grabbed a few items off the coffee table—a random assortment of books, clothes, and a couple of things you hadn't even noticed and started stacking them in strange, random piles around the apartment.

"Isn't that your pile of clothes that need to be folded?" you asked, squinting in confusion as she carefully placed it on the couch with a very serious look on her face.

"Exactly! I'm organizing," Paige declared. "And look, this pile of notebooks? This can be a bookshelf now." She stacked your textbooks one on top of the other, like a wobbly tower.

You could feel the corners of your mouth twitching as you watched her carefully make piles of the mess she had just created. It was almost like a game to her, one where she took the grounding seriously, but in a very "Paige" way.

"Well, I can't argue with your dedication," you said dryly, shaking your head.

Paige gave a mock salute. "Thank you, thank you. I do my best." Then she went over to the window, pulling the curtains closed before turning back with a puzzled expression. "Why is it that when you want to study, the world decides to have fun without you? Like, this should be a communal thing! We should all be focused and studying together, but no—here I am, stuck organizing random piles of stuff."

You stifled a laugh. "It's called 'discipline,' babe. Something you could learn a little more about."

"Ugh, I have plenty of discipline!" she replied, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "I'm grounded. I'm not complaining. You're the one who grounded me! I'm just making the best of a bad situation."

You shook your head, finally giving in to the amusement bubbling inside. "I never thought you'd take grounding so seriously."

"I'm a responsible adult," Paige declared with exaggerated seriousness, though her eyes were full of mischief. "I take my responsibilities seriously."

You chuckled, feeling the tension of your studies easing just a little. As ridiculous as it was, Paige's attempt at being responsible and her newfound "organization skills" was distracting enough to break the monotony. It wasn't quite what you had imagined your study session would look like, but the amusement she brought was a welcome interruption.

Paige, growing bored of her self-imposed "organization," flopped back onto the couch again, but this time she kept a respectful distance. "Okay, okay. I can't do this anymore. Watching you study is like watching paint dry. I don't care how much of a genius you are, this is painful."

"Well, you're the one who's grounded. I'm studying. It's what responsible people do," you teased.

Paige poked her tongue out at you before snatching a cushion and tossing it at your head. "I know, I know. But you're so serious about it! This is your life now? Books, notes, and highlighters?"

"Unfortunately, yeah," you said, only half-kidding. "But once I finish studying, maybe we can actually do something fun."

Paige looked at you thoughtfully. "Yeah, yeah. I guess I can survive a few more hours of silence. As long as we get to go out and do something fun afterward, I'll suffer through this."

You gave her a pointed look. "No more distractions?"

She held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, fine! I'll behave. But only because I love you."

"And because you're grounded," you added with a smile, sitting back down and picking up your pen again.

Paige laughed softly, curling into the couch, still playing the part of the obedient, grounded girlfriend—at least for now. "Yeah, yeah, grounded. I'll be good."

For the next little while, the silence wasn't quite as peaceful as you'd imagined. It was a strange mixture of quiet focus and Paige's playful energy, still radiating in the background. But it worked. You managed to finish a few more pages of notes, and Paige seemed to settle into her self-imposed confinement, her boredom shifting from dramatic antics to occasional mutterings as she tried to occupy herself with her own brand of "responsibility."

As you closed your notebook, finished with your study session, you looked over at her. Paige had somehow turned the "grounding" into her own personal challenge and in a way, she had kept her word. Even if she hadn't exactly been a model citizen in the conventional sense, you couldn't deny that her presence, however unconventional, made the long study session feel a lot less grueling.

"All right, I'm done," you said, stretching. "We can finally take a break."

Paige jumped up from the couch, a wide grin on her face. "Yes! I've earned my freedom!"

"Just remember," you said with a smirk, "If I have to study again tonight, you're back to being grounded."

Paige held her hands up in mock surrender. "I've learned my lesson. I'll behave... mostly."

As you two left the apartment to enjoy the evening, you couldn't help but think that, as exhausting as it was, life with Paige and her colorful brand of "responsibility" was never boring.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 7.4k (shorter chap woop) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Year: Early 2018

He hasn’t been answering your phone calls. Or your texts. A growing sense of anxiety and worry forms in your gut. You've trained yourself to push down the more insidious thoughts that threaten your already deteriorating relationship. It’s been a long day for you. From work, to your annoying mother, and now to your M.I.A boyfriend. You wanted to relax at home with a movie and soothing music, maybe even food. However, it’s been hard to eat for the past few weeks. 

The last place you wanted to be was at some house party with snobby people who probably never have realized the true meaning of a dollar. The music is loud and the blue lights do nothing but further annoy you, reminding you of just how much you hate parties. Pushing through the throngs of people, either too drunk to high to give your rudeness a huff. 

It’s not hard to spot him, but the sight makes you dig your nails into your palms. Feeling bile rise in your throat when a girl—one you’ve never seen before—is getting too close and personal with your man. And worst of all? He’s not even pushing her away. He’s obviously drunk. Still, you assumed he would have that much decency to push back flirting advances from random girls. He always did.  

But things have been changing recently, slowly but surely. Ever since that happened. 

Your feet work quickly, forcing yourself to stay determined and not break down and cry right now. You’ve been doing too much of that. “Satoru.” You call out, voice loud and firm enough that he swivels his head to meet your eyes on just the first try. The girl does so also, head tilting in a scrutinizing way that you hate. “Are you drunk?”

The tint on his cheeks is proof enough. But so is his lazy grin. “What do you think?”

The girl giggles, leaning into your boyfriend’s arm. Watching her do so sends a wave of fury down your spine. You would have stepped in if it weren’t for Satoru finally being a decent man and pulling away from her. “Sorry, you gotta go.”

“Excuse me?” The girl huffs, scowling in disgust. “For what? I thought we were having a good time.”

So, they were together the whole night, huh? They probably would have stayed together if you didn’t make an appearance. What if they would have taken things further? What if Satoru imitated something? You can already feel the familiar tingle at the back of your throat, turning around and heading back for the door. He follows, grabbing your arm in an attempt to stop you. “Y/N—“

“Don’t.” You grit, yanking your arm away and pushing your way back out to the front of the large house, ignoring some of a drunken couple’s protests as you ruin their make-out session. When you make your way onto the sidewalk, you feel a more insistent tug at your wrist that causes you to face him fully. Meeting his glazed-over eyes with your own teary pair, biting down on your quivering lip. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why are you ignoring me?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face when he lets go of you. “I’m not ignoring you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I should have told you I’d be out. But it was last minute.”

A scoff falls from your lips. “Last minute, huh? Is that what you call it? Hanging around some random girl and acting like you don’t have a worried girlfriend waiting for you?”

“Y/N—“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your tears now flow freely down your face, eyes red. The expression you adorn does nothing but break his heart. He hates seeing you cry, he always has. And the small, sober part of him is cursing at himself for being such a jackass tonight. But the dominant, drunk side wants no part of an argument tonight. 

“No, I didn’t. I’d never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“I want you to be a good boyfriend for once!” You croak out, pushing him back by his shoulders. “Y-you know what I’m going through, you know how hard it’s been. And what do you do? You go out and party, you don’t tell me, and I find some random girl all up on you. And then you smiled like it was funny. D-do you know how much you’re hurting me even more, Satoru?” The trembling of your voice pokes at his heartstrings. 

Satoru stares at you, his expression faltering. For a moment, you think you see guilt flicker across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder—defensiveness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, alright? I was just...blowing off steam.”

“Blowing off steam?” you repeat, your voice rising as fresh anger bubbles in your chest. “You call this blowing off steam? Ignoring me? Letting some girl throw herself all over you? You’re unbelievable.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Stay at home and sulk all the time? I can’t—” He stops himself, biting his lip, but you know what he was going to say. 

“You can’t what, Satoru?” Your voice cracks again, but this time it’s laced with more rage than sorrow. “You can’t deal with me? With everything I’m going through? You promised you’d be there for me. You said we’d get through this together.”

“I am here for you!” he snaps, but the slight slur in his voice takes the edge off his words. “But you’re acting like I can’t breathe without you questioning every little thing I do. I’ve been going through shit too, Y/N.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, your fists clenching at your sides. “You know it’s not. If I didn’t care—if I didn’t love you—I wouldn’t be here, trying to fix this.”

He exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N. I swear I didn’t. But I—” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know how to handle all of this, okay? It’s a lot.”

Your breath hitches, his words cut deeper than he probably intended. “You think this isn’t a lot for me too?” you ask, your voice trembling. “I’ve been trying so hard, Satoru. To hold on. To be strong. For both of us. But you’re slipping away, and I don’t know how to bring you back. I know how to handle things just as much as you do.”

He looks up then, his blue eyes clearer now, filled with something that looks almost like regret. For a brief second, you think he might apologize—might say the words you so desperately need to hear. But instead, he shakes his head and says, “Maybe we just need some space.”

The world tilts beneath you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the music still blaring from the house behind you. “Space?” you repeat, barely able to say the word. “You want to take a break?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “I just...I think we’re both hurting each other more than we’re helping.”

You laugh bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. “No, Satoru. You’re hurting me. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who’s giving up.” He flinches at your words, but he doesn’t argue. And somehow, that hurts even more. You shake your head, stepping back from him. “If space is what you want, then fine. But don’t expect me to be here waiting when you figure yourself out.”

You turn and walk away, your heart shattering with every step. This isn’t how you imagined the night would go. It isn’t how you imagined your relationship would go. But as you leave him standing there on the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder if this was inevitable all along.

The same song begins to play. Because soon,  his arms are wrapping around you before you even know it, shoving his face into the side of your neck. “No, no, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, okay? Please don’t leave, please. L-let’s just go home, my parents aren’t there. Please, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

And like a broken record, you give in. Because the broken part of you still craves him. His touch, his comforting hugs, his words. His everything. You feel like a puzzle with pieces too big or small to fit, some pieces lost. But with Satoru, he makes them fit. He finds those pieces of you; the ones you can’t find yourself. In a way, you know things are failing and falling apart. 

But you’re laying back in his bed, feeling the constant vibration of your phone. Texts from your mother and you have no doubt she’s blowing up your phone about the way you snuck out and demanding to know where you are. It’s interesting, you’re twenty-one but she treats you like a kid. All because you still live with her. 

Your heart feels heavy, your stomach twisting with nausea and you’re not even the drunk one. His hands hold your teary cheeks, meeting your gaze with watery ones of his own. Combined tears wet his pillow until there’s no more to give out. He’s been crying with you, but sometimes it feels fake. 

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask again, whispering in a shaky tone. 

His lips purse and he shakes his head. “…no, I didn’t. I told you, I’d never.”

You search his face, looking for cracks in the foundation of his words. His sorrowful eyes, flushed cheeks, and trembling hands—all of it feels sincere, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not so much anymore. “You’re sure?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. 

“I’m sure,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I swear to you, Y/N. I’d never do that to you. Never.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear on your cheek, and for a moment, the warmth of his touch almost convinces you.

Almost.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily as his hands cradle your face. You want to believe him. You need to believe him. But the doubt lingers like a shadow, clawing at the edges of your mind. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” you ask, your voice breaking.

Satoru flinches, his hands momentarily faltering before steadying again. “You’re not losing me,” he says quickly, almost desperately. “I know I’ve been...different lately, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just—” He pauses, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to handle this, Y/N. I don’t know how to be what you need right now. There’s so much and I…” his voice trails off, fearing he’s saying too much and it’ll only make you feel worse. Make himself feel worse. 

Your chest tightens, his confession cutting deeper than you expected. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Satoru. I just need you to try. To be honest with me. To stop shutting me out. You…you’re the only one—you’re all I have right now.”

“I’m trying,” he insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I swear I’m trying. But it feels like...like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. And I hate it. I hate that I’m hurting you.”

The rawness in his voice pulls at something in you, making it harder to keep the walls around your heart intact. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression mirrors your own. “I don’t want to lose you, Satoru,” you say softly. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, his hands tightening slightly on your face as if afraid you’ll slip away. “You’re not, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do better. I promise. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

The plea in his voice, the tears in his eyes—they’re enough to make the broken pieces of your heart shift, trying to fit back together even if they don’t quite align. Against your better judgment, you nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whisper. “But this is your last chance, Satoru. I mean it.”

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.” But Satoru isn’t the best at promises. He’s only good at making them for others, not keeping them for himself. 

As he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you might vanish, you can’t help but wonder how many more promises you’ll let him break before there’s nothing left of you to give. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, hoping—maybe foolishly—that this time will be different. Because he’s all you have. All you know. He knows you inside and out—the way your voice wavers when you’re holding back tears, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the way you laugh like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. And you know him just as deeply. Every freckle on his skin, every scar that tells a story, every mole you’ve discovered in moments of intimacy. You’ve memorized him like a favorite book, reading him over and over until the lines blur but still feel familiar.

You two are like each other’s canvases—painted with touches, kisses, and shared memories, even the messy ones. Every fight, every tear-streaked night, every whispered “I’m sorry” adds another layer to the masterpiece that is you and him. But lately, it feels like the colors are running, bleeding into one another until the picture is unrecognizable. And you don’t know if you can fix it, or if you even should. Never did you think that things would change so much, and all because of one failed situation. 

What a weak body you have, what a weak person you are. 

He holds you tighter, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence. “You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I know I’ve been a mess, but I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

But his promises feel like paint on a waterlogged canvas—fading, smudged, and far too fragile. Still, you nod, letting the comfort of his warmth lull you into silence. Because no matter how fractured you feel, no matter how much the doubt weighs on your chest, he’s all you have. You can’t handle the thought of facing everything alone now, can’t handle the thought of not having someone to hug you when you burst down in tears. 

You hate the way things are now, but you’ve sunk too deep into him. And him the same. Over time, you feel like he will retract his hold from you before you do so yourself. You can almost feel it coming, one way or another. It’s why you’re holding him tighter, pressing your body deeper into his. Because you know you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. Awaiting the inevitable hurts so bad. Knowing that no matter what, your end is visible. You can see the finish line just a few yards away. It’s like a race, and you’re letting Satoru win. Envisioning him running his long legs to the checkered line with a smile on his face like he’s happy—relieved. You don’t want to hold him, that’s the last thing you want to do. However, you’re being as selfish as you can be right now. Before every privilege is stripped from you in a cold manner that will leave you shivering for warmth. But his presence is something. And for now, that’s enough to keep you here and sane. 

Little did you know, you'd win that race before he did. You just needed that little push. He's the hare, and you're the tortoise.

You stay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a constant reminder of the closeness you’ve always shared. It feels almost like an illusion, the peace between you both. But underneath, there’s a tension that hasn’t quite loosened, a thread pulled tight between the two of you, holding you close but threatening to snap at the slightest tug. His grip tightens, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your two worlds together. The quiet hum of the room feels almost suffocating now. Your phone continues to buzz with your mother’s increasingly frantic texts, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that right now. Not with Satoru’s breath warm on your neck and his hands gently caressing your skin. Not when it’s easier to let him hold you in this fragile moment of peace. 

You close your eyes, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. The quietness stays for a long moment, But when he speaks, it’s almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth that might spill out.

“I’ll try. I’ll be here for you, Y/N. I swear it.”

You wonder if you can truly believe him this time. If you can let yourself hope that things might really change. But the doubt is a familiar companion, lingering in the shadows, waiting to remind you of the cracks in his promises. Still, for tonight, you let it go. You let yourself sink into him, giving into the small piece of comfort he offers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

You wake up in a cold sweat, dried tears staining your cheeks. Your stomach feels sensitive, nails already digging into your palms so hard that the skin is growing red and prickly. Every emotion you felt from that dream—nightmare—whatever it was feels ten times more real. You don’t know why you’re having these weird dreams about something from years ago. 

But it still hurts all the same, nonetheless. 

You still feel hollow, drowned, and ready to pour your heart out into your pillow. But it’s morning and time to get up for bed. Christmas Eve is in three days and you’re just counting down until when you won’t have to go into work.  Going through your routine, getting Koji ready for the day, opening the door for Sana. Leaving your place of solitude, it feels like you barely even lived through this morning. 

The chill of the morning air hits your skin as you step outside, tugging your coat tighter around you. The weight of your dream lingers, like a fog that refuses to lift. You keep telling yourself it was just a dream, just a memory from a time you’ve tried so hard to bury. But it clings to you like a ghost, whispering doubts into your ear, even as you force yourself to move through the motions. you can’t help but glance up at the sky, the gray clouds reflecting the heaviness in your chest. Christmas Eve is in three days, and you can’t wait to take a break from not just work—from everything.

If only escaping your past was as easy as flipping the calendar to a new year.

Satoru texts you around the 2-hour mark that he’ll be going over to your place soon to see Koji and bring the gifts he got. You let Sana know of the change, she replies back with a simple ‘okay!’

You sigh, willing yourself to forget about the drama your life entails, and focus on your work. 

However, another thought is creeping in through the door, and this time—it’s not such a bad one. You feel a fluttering sensation in your gut, holding back a peal of stifled laughter as the memory of last night makes its presence known. After the whole shirt incident, Suguru stayed. He kept his word about not making anything weird, and you two ended with a simple chat and a movie. It felt nice.

Of course, there were hints of lingering peeks, that strange tension tossed up in the air that neither of you fully addressed. But it’s fine, it didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. Although, when it was time for him to leave, you did have a second of hesitation about whether you should hug him or simply say goodbye. He decided for you when he carefully opened his arms up, you followed suit. 

Inhaling his scent felt heavenly. Manly, but also feminine at the same time. An earthly scent that felt like hints of incense. The memory of his embrace lingers like the faintest trace of his cologne, warm and comforting. It wasn’t just the way he held you—it was the way he made you feel. Secure. Understood. Like you weren’t just surviving, but living, even if just for that moment.  

You haven't hugged a man in so long. You forgot how good they hug. 

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. It wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t be anything. Suguru’s always been like that—gentle, kind, and just a little too perceptive for his own good. He knew exactly when to stay and exactly what you needed without you even having to say it. Still, you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picked up when his arms wrapped around you, the way your cheek brushed against his shoulder, and how your fingers had almost lingered a little too long against his back. It felt natural, but also entirely new. 

Suguru’s presence was so easy, so effortless. It felt like slipping into an old favorite sweater, soft and familiar but with a spark of something you couldn’t quite place. You’d been so wrapped up in keeping everything together, in pushing through every day for Koji’s sake, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen.  

You wonder if Satoru holds the same longing you do. 

You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. Don’t think about him. There’s no point in overthinking any of this.  

“Hello, you must be Koji’s father.” Sana greets Satoru who stands in the doorway. With him, two armfuls of gifts. Even more on the floor next to his feet. 

Simply nodding and looking over her shoulder to see Koji eating his lunch. “And you’re the babysitter.” Without much else, he carefully pushes past her, bringing in the gifts. “Mind getting the rest? Thanks.”

She nods, grabbing what was left on the floor before bringing it in, closing and locking the door. When she turns back around, Koji is in his father’s embrace. She smiles at the scene. “Ms. Y/N told me you’d be coming. He’s been good so far, he’s just eating his lunch now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Satoru replies, pulling away from his son. Doing a quick scan of the place before his eyes land back on the young woman. “How long have you been watching my son again?”

“A couple of years.”

He hums, walking closer to her. “And you’re how old?”

Sana blinks, surprised by the question. "I'm twenty," she says cautiously, her polite smile wavering slightly under his scrutiny.  

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Twenty, huh? Pretty young to be taking care of kids."  

“I’ve been babysitting since I was sixteen,” she replies, straightening her posture. “I’m studying early childhood education, so it’s not just a job to me. I care about Koji.”  

His expression softens a fraction, and he glances back at his son, who’s happily munching away at his sandwich. “He does seem to like you,” Satoru admits, his tone less probing now.  

“He’s a great kid,” Sana says warmly. “Very smart, just like his mother.”  

That earns her a faint smile. “Yeah, just like his mother.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the counter. “So, Y/N told you I’d be stopping by today?”  

“Yes, she mentioned it when I got here this morning.” 

Satoru nods, tapping his fingers against his forearm thoughtfully. “Good. Thanks for helping out today. I know it’s probably not easy juggling school and babysitting.”  

“It’s manageable,” Sana replies, sensing a subtle change in his demeanor. “Koji makes it worth it.”  

Satoru’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before he straightens up. “I’ll take over from here. You can go ahead and clock out early if you want.”  

“Oh, are you sure?”  

“Yeah,” he says, waving her off. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ve got this.”  

Sana hesitates briefly, glancing at Koji, who’s still blissfully unaware of the conversation. “Alright then. Have a good evening, Mr. Gojo.”  

As she gathers her things and heads for the door, she feels his eyes on her. It’s not hostile, but it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to gauge something about her. She doesn’t dwell on it, though—whatever it is, it’s not her place to question. “Oh!” She turns around as if she just remembered something. “Ms. Y/N leaves a list. It’s taped to the—”

“I don’t need a list to take care of my son.” He cuts her off smoothly, his one eyebrow raising. “Thanks again, have a good day.”

She falters, once again caught a little off guard. This is her first time meeting him, and while she’s of course seen the articles and comments about the drama surrounding the small family, she has no bias. In fact, she sympathizes greatly with you for going through all this alone. As she’s leaving the apartment, she can’t help the small opinion of Satoru that he’s already given her. 

He’s so intimidating!

After she leaves, Satoru focuses back on his son—this shitty apartment. He hasn’t explicitly voiced his opinions out to you—of course you already know what they are. And as you said before, it’s all you could afford, and Koji’s happy. However, he can’t stop himself from grimacing at the so-called ‘decorations’. This place needs some serious revamping. 

“Hey, buddy?”

Koji looks over, wiping his mouth. “Yes, Papa?”

“When you’re done eating, want to help me with something?” And Koji doesn’t need to be told anymore. He loves helping—especially his mother and father. So he nods excitedly, practically scarfing down the rest of his sandwich. Bubbling with giddiness only a child could have. 

Satoru chuckles at his son’s behavior, heart warming. This is the first time he’s doing something festive with Koji. The bitter part of him tells him that he could’ve had more chances to do so if it weren’t for your cowardness. But he shoves that away, focusing on the jolly joy the holidays can bring. 

Today was more tiring than usual, with the cafe gaining more attention, there’s been rush after rush after rush. You can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wear you down by the time you clock out. And your day isn’t even done yet. Slugging your way to your front door, lazily opening it with your key. Tossing your coat on the nearby rack, your bag with it. 

“I’m ba—”

You sniffle. One. Twice. 

A pinecone-y scent fills your nostrils. Which is strange because you know you have no candles that house that aroma. Confusion, but wariness takes over your senses. Following the sound of laughter down the hall until you’re standing in the living room. 

The sight you see is more than startling. 

Your eyes dart around in a frenzy, landing on one new thing after the next. The small, simple Christmas tree you’d put up last week? Replaced by a towering, impeccably decorated monstrosity with shimmering lights and a star that looks like it came straight out of a luxury catalog. It barely even fits in the room. Luckily, the small picture ornament of you and Koji is still there. But it looks so out of place.

The garlands you’d strung across the walls? Gone, swapped for lush, sparkling ones adorned with oversized ornaments. Even your modest stockings have been replaced with personalized velvet ones embroidered with gold thread, hanging perfectly above a faux fireplace setup that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

It’s like a winter wonderland exploded in your living room, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or scream.

Koji is sitting on the couch, giggling as Satoru playfully pretends to tangle himself in a string of fairy lights. Your son’s laughter is contagious, but you can’t shake the growing irritation bubbling inside you. When Koji notices you, his eyes brighten even more. Gaping and rushing over to your leg, hugging it. “Mama! Mama! Look what Papa and I did! It’s so pretty and there are so many presents!”

There is. There’s a lot of presents. Practically stacking on top of one another under your refurbished tree. Hidden somewhere in the splurge are the gifts Suguru got for you and Koji. 

Gulping, you feel your throat tighten. You feel nothing but overwhelmed. But in the face of your son, you can’t exactly show that. You force a smile as you ruffle Koji’s hair, trying to push down the irritation clawing its way to the surface. “Wow, it’s… definitely something,” you say, your voice strained but managing to sound somewhat amused for Koji’s sake.

Satoru, now untangled from the lights, looks up from the couch with that boyish grin of his. “Do you love it or do you love it?” he asks, gesturing to the extravagant decor like he’s unveiling a masterpiece. 

You blink at him, incredulous—but still attempting to keep yourself calm.  “What… what happened to the decorations we already had?”

“Oh, those?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say they weren’t really up to par. I mean, come on, Y/N. That tree you had? It was like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas special. I couldn’t let Koji’s holiday spirit suffer like that.”

Your jaw tightens, the forced smile threatening to slip. “So, you just… decided to replace everything? Without asking me?”

He stands, brushing off invisible dust from his jeans as if the weight of his decision is nothing. “You were busy, and I figured you’d appreciate coming home to something nice for once. Besides, look at Koji—he’s thrilled!”

Koji tugs at your sleeve, his wide-eyed excitement piercing through your annoyance. “It’s so cool, Mama! Look at all the shiny ornaments! And Papa let me pick out the star!” Your son runs over to show off a few of the many, many presents he has. Showing extra excitement for the heavier and larger ones. “Papa says it’s magical. I want to have a magical Christmas every time, Mama.”

The words, innocent but heavy, almost make you physically kneel down. You feel your chest tighten, your throat closing up even more. The lump that forms is difficult to swallow down. The implication of Satoru’s and your son's words feels a bit degrading. And you don’t blame it on Koji, he means nothing malicious. But for some reason, being faced with the physical line of difference between you and Satoru, watching your son’s face light up in a way that you’ve never seen before…

It reminds you that your enough has never been enough. Each Christmas, it’s dull. Your Christmases aren’t magical.  Your life isn’t. 

You feel the weight of it all crashing down like the oversized star on the new tree is pressing on your chest. Satoru's extravagance, Koji's innocent excitement, and your own feelings of inadequacy swirl together into a storm you’re barely holding back.  

Your forced smile falters, but you quickly kneel to Koji's level, brushing his hair away from his glowing face. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you say softly, voice trembling but steady enough to reassure him. “I’m glad you had fun with Papa.”  

Koji beams, and for a moment, his joy is a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Mama?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So pretty.” Standing slowly, your hand lingers on Koji’s shoulder. “Really pretty,” you repeat quietly, not committing to anything. You can feel Satoru watching you, his casual demeanor only adding to your irritation. The worst part of it all is that it seems like he genuinely has no idea what he did wrong. 

In hindsight, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like a shitty mother, but Satoru is good at pointing out the differences in his own ways. 

When Koji bounds back to the pile of gifts, you finally let yourself meet Satoru’s gaze. “You really didn’t think to talk to me about this?”  

His grin fades just a fraction, replaced by a look of confusion. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to do something special for Koji. And let’s be honest, Y/N—this is special.”  

“It’s not about the decorations, Satoru,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “It’s about you making decisions without considering how I might feel about it. Again.”  

He tilts his head, the glower returning, though it feels sharper now. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just Christmas decorations, Y/N. Look at Koji—he’s happy. Isn’t that what matters?”  

You clench your fists, the tightness in your chest threatening to spill over into something you can’t control. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the decorations. It’s about you coming in here and acting like everything I do is subpar. Like I’m not enough.”  

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Satoru’s expression falters. But he recovers quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the arm of the couch. “Y/N, no one’s saying that. You’re reading too much into this. I just wanted to make things nice for Koji, that’s all.”  

Your laugh is bitter, and it catches even you off guard. “Right. Because your version of nice is always the right one. I’m just the placeholder until you decide to step in and fix everything, aren’t I?”  

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the playful spark he had with Kojidimming. “That’s not fair.”  

“Isn’t it?” you counter, your voice breaking despite your effort to stay calm. “You swoop in with all your money and your grand gestures, and I’m supposed to just smile and be grateful. But do you even realize how hard I’ve worked to give Koji a Christmas he’ll enjoy? How much I’ve sacrificed just to keep things normal?”  

His silence stings more than any retort could.  

Koji’s laughter in the background feels distant now, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s too distracted with the tree, his presents, everything. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before forcing a calmness you don’t feel.  You won’t fight in front of him. 

“I’m going to get changed,” you mutter, not waiting for a response.  

As you leave the room, Satoru calls after you, his voice softer but no less exasperated. “Y/N, come on. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”  

But to you, it already feels like a chasm. One that grows wider with every passing second.

You shut your door, leaning against it with your forehead. Breaths coming in short, hands trembling slightly. Biting your quivering lip, you maneuver your body to change into your uniform. All the while, tears are getting on your hands and clothes. Accidentally, you let out a small, broken whimper. 

 Quickly, you place a palm to your mouth, stifling and quieting your soft cries. Once you’re done changing, you fall back onto the bed. Curled up with knees drawn to your chest, as the burden of your own self-consciousness rains down on you. The room feels suffocatingly small, your emotions clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out.

The tears come harder now, soaking into the fabric of your uniform as you press your hands to your face, muffling the quiet sobs. You hate this—how easily Satoru gets under your skin, how he makes you feel insignificant without even trying. You thought you were past this. Past him. But somehow, he always finds a way to remind you of all the ways you’ve fallen short. Or at least, all the ways he makes you feel like you have.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N?” His voice is muffled through the wood, quieter than usual as if he’s trying not to disturb you. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer, biting down on your lip to keep from making another sound.

“Look,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “I know I upset you. I didn’t mean to. Can we just… talk?”

For a moment, you consider staying silent, letting him stew in his own discomfort. But the tension is too thick, and you know Koji is just down the hall. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet, wiping at your face in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears. Wiping your face and straightening your clothes, you open the door. “I have work.” You mutter, expertly enforcing a placid emotion. “Will you watch him?”

Without waiting for a response, you walk past him. But he grabs at your wrist, instinctively you pull away. “Stop, just stop, okay? Let’s not fight. We’re adults, we can talk this out. I don’t mean to make you feel less than, I just wanted to make Koji happy.”

“And do you think he’s not happy with me?” You snap back, looking up at him. Feeling your vision already beginning to blur. “Do you? Do you think he’ll be happy with you? I-Is that it?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The air between you feels like it could snap under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hand hovers near his side, as if he wants to reach out again but knows better now. “No,” he says softly, his voice steady but lined with regret. “That’s not what I meant. Koji is happy with you. He loves you more than anything.”

“Then why do you keep acting like what I do isn’t enough?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve been doing this alone, Satoru. Every scraped knee, every fever, every night when he cries because he’s scared of the dark—I’m there. Not you. Me. So don’t you dare come in here, throw your money around, and act like you can just fix everything with some… Christmas wonderland.”

“But you didn’t let me come in sooner, Y/N.” He replies, exasperation in his voice. 

“I know that, and I’m sorry. I know I fucked up…”

“Then stop getting mad at little things.”

Your fists ball up, your expression growing firmer by the second. But so is the need to cry again. He’s right, everything he says is right. It’s your own fault that you’ve been forced to handle everything alone. But, don’t your feelings matter just a little bit in this situation? Is he allowed to just come in and fix up everything you have? What he thinks is a mess, it’s something that holds significance to you. What he thinks is a little thing, it’s a big one in your eyes. 

So while this scenario is blowing up into something bigger, your decorations are something you have control of. You only have control over so many things in your life. 

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Y/N. I swear. I just… I wanted to give him something special. Something I never had growing up.”

It makes you feel even more guilty. You can’t find it in you to say anything else, turning back around and walking to the living room. “Goodbye, Koji. Mama will see you later.” Giving him a brief hug and kiss, you hurriedly grab your coat and purse, exiting your apartment just as fast as you came. 

Unbeknownst to you, Koji is left staring at the closed door. His head tilting in curiosity, while a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks up at his father when he enters the living room again, the two owning matching guises. “Why’d Mama leave so fast? I wanted to show her the drawing we did.” The white paper in his hands pictures three figures. Each one smiling, the smaller boy in the middle holding hands with his two parents on either side of him. He even drew blue snowflakes. 

There’s a red heart around them with the words My family! at the top. 

Satoru stands there, staring at the door you just closed, feeling the weight of Koji’s innocent question settle on his shoulders. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances down at his son, whose big, curious eyes are filled with disappointment.

“She’s just tired, buddy,” Satoru replies, crouching down to Koji’s level. His tone is softer now, more measured, as he tries to mask the turmoil bubbling under his calm façade. “She’s been working really hard, you know? Grown-up stuff.”

Koji’s frown deepens, his little brows furrowing. “But we worked hard too! We did the tree and the presents and everything!” His tiny hands gesture to the decorated room, his frustration clear. “Mama’s s’posed to be happy.”

Satoru feels his chest tighten at the words. He places a hand on Koji’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is happy, Koji. She just… needs some time, that’s all. Grown-ups can be funny like that.”

Koji looks down, fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up. “Is it my fault?”

Satoru’s heart aches at the question, and he immediately shakes his head, pulling Koji into a firm hug. “No, not even a little bit. You didn’t do anything wrong, Koji. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

Koji nods slowly against his father’s shoulder but remains quiet. Satoru pulls back, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Mama loves you so much, Koji. More than anything in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay…” Koji mumbles, still not entirely convinced. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again. “Do…does Mama love you too?”

The question catches him off guard, putting an even bigger weight on Satoru’s shoulders. He should’ve expected it, Koji is a curious kid who still doesn’t completely grasp the complexities of his parents’ relationship. Satoru smiles faintly, kissing Koji’s cheek. “Mama has a lot of love.”

The answer satisfies Koji. For now. 

Satoru ruffles his son’s hair. “How about we finish that drawing? We’ll save it for her when she gets back.”

Koji perks up slightly, nodding. “Okay! But you gotta color inside the lines this time, Papa.”

Satoru chuckles, relieved to see even a small smile return to Koji’s face. “Deal. But only if you promise not to make fun of me if I mess up. I’m sensitive.”

Koji giggles, taking his father’s hand to lead him back to the small table. As they sit down to continue their drawing, Satoru steals a glance at the door again, his smile faltering for just a second.

He’s trying—he really is. But he wonders if it’ll ever be enough. It’s like no matter what he does, you don’t like it; and vice versa. He’s being as understanding and nice as someone in his situation can be. At times, he feels he’s being even too nice to you. He knew things wouldn’t be easy, but he wants to spend time with his son. Make up for all the lost time, and even the littlest moments. It’s almost a little bit unfair of you to throw the fact that he has money and you don’t in his face like that. He didn’t ask to be born rich. Just like you didn’t ask to be born…like that. You’re the adults in this situation, there’s a kid involved. So truly, he wishes he could just have a single conversation with you that doesn’t feel anger-surged or bitter. Of course, it’s hard because of what has happened before, but there’s a time and a place, is there not? 

Whatever. He’s more than happy to color with Koji and do whatever the little boy asks while you have your own moment. Satoru knows best of everyone else you like having space. And while many years have passed and his feelings for you have grown less than savory, he stills wants to respect your wishes after an argument with him.

He can’t help but think the obvious, though. Is it even worth attempting to mend whatever little shards of semblance there is left with you?

Probably not. Because after all, he’s here only for Koji. 

Right?

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[nevershootamockingbird]

[ Image One: A photo of a paragraph that reads "In telling me this she also mentions she's thirty-one, which, whoa, older woman. When I was a freshman in college, she would have just graduated. At this point, both our brains' risk centers have solidified, so I feel four years is an okay zone. What a sexy thought, Nar. Though I might be toning my thoughts down on purpose so I don't make a fool of my libidinous self."

Image Two from Alt Text: comment from tumblr user princedrewwrites: "juuuuust looked up this book on goodreads and momst of the top reviews are mentioning the author subtweeting them, so that's also there"

Image Three from Alt Text: Partial screencap of a 2 star goodreads review that reads:

"EDIT: Because the author found my review and decided to subtweet it and misrepresent what I was trying to say, I want to take the time to clear some things up. And also to reiterate that reviews are for readers, not authors, and this is a sure way to make sure I never pick up a book from them again. When I say I thought the book felt heavyhanded, I did NOT mean that it shouldn't have discussed the Armenian genocide. Of course there should" The screencap ends at the linebreak following "should." / End ID ]

reading a romance novel where the protagonist feels the need to stop and inform that audience that it's okay for her, a 27 year old, to hook up with a 31 year old because despite the age difference both of their brains are fully developed. the Discourse really has done incalculable damage.

[waayoutofline]

4 times you surprised Abby + Bonus

Pairing: Abby Anderson x F!Reader

Prompts: Fluff with a sprinkle of hurt/comfort, past toxic relationships, Cook! Reader, vulnerable Abby.

Summary: Four times you surprise Abby in your relationship.

WC: 2,8K

Warnings: None.

Abby hasn’t had a long dating history, which isn’t surprising in a world as broken as theirs. Survival didn’t leave much room for things like love. She’s had her flings, moments of stolen intimacy, but they never lasted. People came and went, and she’d learned to accept it. Relationships, if they even could be called that, weren’t always kind or healthy—but they were what they were. What she was used to.

So when you and Abby finally started dating—after months of stolen glances, shy smiles, and a tension that buzzed between you like an incoming storm—she couldn’t help but be surprised. What was it about you that made her hope for something more?

1. Talking About Her to Your Friends

Abby didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. She was on her way to the gym when she remembered she’d left her bag in your room. She knew you were with your friends, so she decided to sneak in quietly.

But as she approached the door, she heard her name.

“So, how’s life with your lover girl?” one of your friends teased, and Abby froze.

Her pulse quickened, a mixture of curiosity and anxiety rooting her in place. She shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t stop herself. She braced for your answer, her heart sinking as she prepared to hear the usual: She’s strong. She’s built. She’s hot. A bit stubborn. Overwhelming at times.

And sure, she was those things. Her body was a testament to her survival, her strength, and her discipline . She worked for it and was proud of it. But deep down, she longed to be seen as more than that. And her character was strong and she has been told about how troublesome it could be alongside her dry humor and sarcasm.

“Well…” Your voice was hesitant, shy. She could almost picture the way your cheeks would flush. “Gosh, she’s amazing. She’s so intelligent and kind—she talks about literature in a way that astonishes me every time.”

Abby’s breath caught in her throat.

“She’s gentle, in this really soft way. You should see her with dogs. It makes me want to get her one.”

Her chest tightened, warmth blooming in a place she hadn’t let anyone touch in years.

“Don’t forget attractive,” one of your friends chimed in, grinning.

You laughed, your voice flustered. “Well, of course. She’s gorgeous.”

“Look at you, all smitten,” someone teased, and your laugh grew quieter, softer, as if you didn’t mind being called out.

Abby’s heart was pounding now, but it wasn’t from nerves. She felt her legs move before she realized it, retreating back down the hall with her bag in hand, her cheeks hot, her lips curling into a smile she couldn’t fight.

Manny didn’t let her hear the end of it when he caught her grinning like a lovestruck fool all day.

2. Meeting the Family

Holiday time was around the corner. Usually, it didnt really mean much for everyone, but for the sake of trying to live in this forsaken world, some did their best to try and regain some normalcy.

Even Isaac, workaholic and not really an empathetic, allowed some of the recruits and workers to go out of their shifts earlier to spend some time with their remaining families.

It could be great. If you actually had one.

Abby usually just stayed at the gym, pushing herself. The burn of her muscles being preferable at the though of how alone she really was.

But she really wasnt anymore. No, you were with her now.

One night, out of nowhere, you asked her to have dinner with you and your mom. Abby blinked, caught off guard.

“What?” she asked, towel in hand as she dried her hair.

“My mom and I usually do something this time of year. I think she’s tired of me rambling about you and wants to officially meet you,” you said, your tone light and teasing, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal. No one had ever invited her to meet their family before. No one had ever seen her as someone worth bringing home. Too conscious of her own lack of family.

“No pressure,” you added quickly, though your eyes softened in that way that made her heart ache. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. But I think she’d really like you.”

“I… I’d like that too,” Abby said at last, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “What should I bring?”

You smiled, stepping closer and gently tugging the towel from her hands to help dry her hair. “Just you, beautiful.”

Abby let out a shaky laugh at your cheeky grin, rolling her eyes to hide the way her cheeks blushed. “Flatterer.”

Dinner was warm in a way Abby hadn’t experienced in years. Your mom fussed over her like she’d known Abby forever, asking about her favorite foods and piling extra servings onto her plate.

It was strange and wonderful—this sense of care. Abby couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel this… domestic. Cared for. Hers died at a young age after all, she didn’t remember any kind of motherly care.

And when your mom pulled out the box of polaroids, Abby couldn’t stop laughing. Even as you protested in the background, trying to snatch the photos away, she soaked in every story your mom told—every glimpse of you as a child, every memory that shaped the person she was falling for more deeply than she thought possible.

3) The little things

Abby has always been independent. She prided herself on it—her ability to handle things, resolve problems, and shoulder her burdens without leaning on anyone. It wasn’t always easy, and yes, sometimes it felt lonely. But that loneliness was a price she was willing to pay. Dependence, to her, was a weakness, and she had no room for that.

But then you came along. And somehow, without even trying, you chipped away at her walls.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t about grand gestures, no flashy declarations. It was the little things—the quiet moments and unnoticed details—that left her feeling undone.

Like the time you took her gym towels, washed them, and neatly packed them back into her bag. She’d blinked in surprise, holding them in her hands, wondering how you’d known she’d forgotten. You hadn’t even mentioned it, just smiled when she realized.

Or the way, after a grueling patrol, she’d find a sticky note on her makeshift fridge. Your familiar handwriting scrawled something simple—a heart, her name, a quiet reminder to eat. Beside it, there was always a container of her favorite dish. She’d sit there and eat it, alone but feeling more cared for than she ever had before.

Then there were her hair ties. She’d spent half a morning cursing under her breath, looking for the ones that always seemed to vanish. When you finally spoke up, you’d said, “I put them in the little box on your nightstand so you don’t keep loosing them.”

And at times, when she didn’t really have it in her to face the morning, you gently encouraged her to push forward. You’d quietly ask if you could braid her hair. Abby usually was adamant from letting anyone touch it, but there was something about the way your delicate hands moved through her hair that left her in a trance.

Your fingers worked carefully, threading through her scalp with a tenderness that eased the weight she carried. She found herself humming softly as you worked, the tension in her shoulders melting away with each gentle stroke.

It was so small, so simple, but she’d stared at you for a moment, the words catching in her throat.

It amazed her how you always seemed to notice the things she needed before she did. You didn’t make a show of it, didn’t ask for thanks or praise. Taking care of her came as naturally to you as breathing.

Afterward, life seems all that brighter. Easier to breath, knowing that she could count on you.

4) Getting her vulnerability

The anniversary of her dad’s death was closing in like a shadow. Abby felt it in the air, in her nightmares, in the way her body refused to let her rest.

Night after night, she woke up shaking, clutching at her chest, and every time, you were there—soft whispers, steady hands, holding her like she wasn’t coming apart at the seams.

But she hated herself for it. Hated waking you, hated seeing the concern in your eyes, hated the thought of you realizing just how much of a mess she really was. People had left for less.

And maybe you would, too.

Many people, both lovers and friends, had been uncomfortable with the ghosts of her past—her dad, her losses, the weight she carried. They either tiptoed around it or distanced themselves when it became too much. She didn’t exactly blame them.

But you faced it with her. You didn’t try to fix her or tell her to “move on.” You just stayed, listened, and made her feel like she wasn’t broken.

You stood by her, with no pressure, no expectation, no need to “make her better.”

“You don’t always have to be the strong one,” you told her one night, after she tried so hard to stop her body from shaking after one particularly harsh dream.

It was something no one had ever said to her before, and it stuck with her. It gave her the strength to turn around and look at you while tears started down her cheeks, the darkness not managing to conceal them entirely. But it was alright.

You were there.

“Was it about your dad?” you whispered, not pushing but encouraging. Silence filled the space the question left.

“No.” She finally answered, her voice unsteady in a way that she loathed. “We…we were on a patrol, and when I came back everything was destroyed. Burned to the ground. And you were….” Her words stuck, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. “You were gone. You were…g-god, you were—“

Almost immediately, you hugged her, cradling her head to your chest. You were soft and warm, the steady beating of your heart thumping under her ear. It was almost scary, how comfortable it was.

“I’m right here,” you murmured softly, your hand gently running through her hair. “Hear my heart. Focus on my breaths. We’re together, Abby. We’re okay.”

The words settled over her like a balm, though the ache in her chest didn’t fully ease. The images from her nightmare still lingered—haunting, visceral, unshakable. But your presence, your warmth, gave her something solid to cling to. A light in the darkness.

“I hate it,” she finally whispered, voice raw. “I hate that I can’t protect everyone. That everyone seems to just…go eventually. And that I can’t do anything about it.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, your eyes soft as you wiped away her tears. Your touch was gentle, your expression firm but kind.

“Abby, you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

She shook her head, her brow furrowing in frustration. “But what if I lose you? What if I can’t stop it?”

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, your hands cupping her face. “And even if the worst happens, it’s not because you failed. It’s because the world is cruel sometimes. But no matter what, I need you to know that you’re not alone in this.”

Her lips quivered, another tear slipping down her cheek, but she didn’t look away. For once, she let herself be seen—completely, raw and exposed.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Abs.” You patiently reminded. “It’s okay to let someone else carry the weight sometimes.”

You continued, your voice steady. “You have me.”

Abby let out a shuddering breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to truly let go. She melted into your embrace, burying her face in your neck as the last of her resistance crumbled.

You stayed like that, holding her through the quiet sobs, through the silence that followed. When she finally spoke again, her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Thank you,” she said. “For staying.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple, your hand still running soothingly through her hair. “Always,” you replied. “I’ll always stay, Abby.”

BONUS

+) Not minding her overprotective nature

Everyone knows Abby is a deeply loyal person. She wants her loved ones to be safe more than anything, and she is willing to do anything for them. That usually manifested as her being slightly overprotective at times.

With you, it happened more often than not. She would step in at the slightest sign of you having any issue. Usually, she did it through small gestures that were partly unconscious to her. Like knowing your schedule by heart and accompanying you to your room late at night with a secure hand on your lower back. Happily listening to your rambling while still keeping an eye out.

Watching over you in every room came naturally to her.

She was particularly tense when you, as the executive chef, asked for permission to assist in a supply run and gather some materials. Abby always insisted that you only go when she was available. She didn’t trust anyone else to take care of you like she did.

The most dramatic displays of her protectiveness came when you were confronted by recruits making greedy demands.

“Back off,” she practically growled, appearing behind you like a shadow. The person usually stammered, probably not conscious of who your girlfriend was until her imposing frame stood threateningly in front of them.

Afterward, she turned to you, all the aggression melting away as she gave you soft eyes. “You good?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I’m good.”

And you meant it—being with Abby made you feel safe in a way you never had before.

You weren’t exactly “on the frontlines” material. You arrived at the WLF when you were pretty young, and after going through everything, even the sight of a gun left you uneasy. So when Isaac saw your cooking abilities, he allowed you to stay at the base under the title of side-line cook. You eventually rose through the ranks, and that was that.

You preferred dealing with narcissistic soldiers over facing those vicious creatures. In a way, you grew accustomed to being pushed around, even though you knew how to defend yourself. But that all changed when you met Abby.

Standing at 5’9 and with a build that seemed crafted by the gods themselves, it was safe to say people left you alone after associating with her. So, even if you knew how to stand your ground, you enjoyed being protected by her.

You didn’t mind when she walked ahead of you during runs, her broad shoulders shielding you from any threat that could come your way. When she insisted on carrying the heavier bag or checking your gun a couple of times before leaving—just in case.

Not even when she glared at anyone who looked at you for more than five seconds in a way she deemed unacceptable.

You didn’t mind any of it because you knew it came from a strong sense of caring. That’s who she was. She cared deeply.

So, whenever she hovered near as you collected some herbs just a little outside the perimeter of the stadium (an area kept clear of infected), her eyes following your every move, you didn’t roll your eyes or brush her off. Instead, you smiled softly, glancing up at her as she leaned against a tree, arms crossed.

“You don’t have to watch me like a hawk, you know,” you teased lightly. “This is a pretty safe zone.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna keep an eye out.”

Setting the basket down, you stood and moved next to her, gently nudging her to sit. She understood your intentions—she always did—and with her back against the trunk of the tree, she made space for you to settle between her legs, resting against her.

“I know,” you said, leaning into her warmth. “And I appreciate it.”

Abby’s expression softened, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You don’t think I’m… too much?”

“Not at all,” you said, glancing back at her and managing to place a soft kiss on the side of her jaw. “You make me feel safe. That’s never too much.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at you with that quiet, steady gaze that always made you feel like you were the center of her world.

And when she reached out to embrace you, resting her head in the crook of your neck, her touch so gentle, you knew you wouldn’t trade her protectiveness for anything.

[st4rpiece]

tall girl epidemic

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, kidd x reader summary: op men who love tall women CW: jealousy (kidd) but aside from that just fluff [specified reader physical traits include: height (obviously), body scars, and multiple different body types (chubby/curvy, buff/muscular, skinny/slim)]

─────────────⋆ฺ｡*:･

Monkey D. Luffy

Since meeting you, Luffy hasn’t stopped lifting you up into the air for the silliest reasons. He wants a snack? Suddenly, you’re in his arms, tagging along to the kitchen. Running from an enemy? There you are again, scooped up like you’re part of the escape plan. It didn’t matter the situation—if Luffy decided it was easier to carry you, he’d do it without hesitation.

At first, it caught you off guard. After all, you weren’t exactly small. At 6’5, you were taller than most, and your solid frame was a testament to years of training and battle. You weren’t delicate or light, and yet Luffy carried you like it was nothing, grinning all the while like hauling you around was as easy as lifting a feather.

“Doesn’t this ever get tiring?” you’d finally asked one day, your tone half-amused, half-exasperated as he picked you up for the third time in a single afternoon.

He tilted his head, flashing you that carefree smile of his. “Nope!”

“Seriously?”

He giggled, spinning you once before setting you down gently. “I just like having you in my arms! You’re fun to carry.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not a toy, Lu. If anything, I should be carrying you. It makes way more sense.”

“I don’t think so, plus you’ve carried me before,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if the occasional over the shoulder ride after a battle evened the score. “So it’s only fair I get to carry you too!”

You didn’t have much of a rebuttal for that, so you just sighed and let him have his way. Truthfully, you didn’t mind all that much.

Being with Luffy was exciting—not just because of the adventures or the friends you’d made thanks to him, but because of how he made you feel. You’d never been the type to consider yourself “delicate” or “soft.” You were a warrior in your country, someone who had earned her place through grit and strength. Your body bore the scars of countless battles, and your imposing stature had always been enough to make others think twice before approaching you.

But none of that seemed to matter to Luffy.

He never treated you like you were intimidating or unreachable. Instead, he saw you in a way no one else ever had—as someone strong, yes, but also someone worth cherishing. He didn’t limit your freedom or strength, didn’t try to box you into a role that didn’t fit. But somehow, even with all that respect, he still managed to make you feel like a fragile princess in the best way.

And it was never in a way that undermined who you were. He’d wrap you up in his stretchy arms when you were upset, pulling you into one of his over-the-top hugs, but he’d laugh and tell you how cool you looked when you took down an opponent twice your size, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“That was amazing!“ he’d say with the same enthusiasm he gave to talking about meat or a beetle, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It was strange at first, this mix of being treated like someone soft and someone indestructible, but Luffy had a way of balancing both without ever making it feel forced.

It was early in your relationship, when both developed the habit of sitting on the deck and watching the stars after dinner. You would fiddled with the brim of his hat that rested on your head as he leaned back, resting his arms behind his head.

“You know,” you started, your voice softer than usual, “I don’t really get you sometimes.”

“Huh? What’s there to get?” he asked, turning to look at you with wide, curious eyes.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Just… the way you treat me, I guess.”

“What about it?”

“It’s just different from what i’m use to,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to the deck. “Most people either treat me like I’m too strong to need anyone or that I’m not…feminine enough to deserve proper treatment.”

Luffy frowned at that, sitting up and tilting his head. “That’s dumb.”

You looked at him, a little startled by the bluntness of his response. “What?”

“They’re dumb,” he said simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re strong and you’re pretty. Why would it be one or the other?”

His words were so straightforward, so unfiltered, that you didn’t know how to respond. You could feel your cheeks warming, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust his hat.

“Anyway,” he continued, leaning back on his hands again, “I like you and the crew likes you just the way you are. And if other people can’t see how awesome you are, that’s their problem, not yours.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his words settle over you. Then, with a small smile tugging at your lips, you reached over and gently tugged on his cheek.

“Cheesy,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind your words.

“And you love it,” he teased, grinning as he leaned into your hand.

You couldn’t argue with that. And honestly, you didn’t want to. He was right, you did love it.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro claimed he didn’t have a type. He wasn’t exactly experienced in the dating world, and honestly? He’d settle for the first person who asked him out. His standards when it comes to dating were low, maybe embarrassingly so. He figured relationships didn’t need to be complicated, and it doesn’t help that romance isn’t something he gives much thought to.

His ideologies for sure had Nami rolling her eyes so hard she nearly sprained something while she “convinced” him to go on this blind date. (Probably just mentioned sake).

“Don’t embarrass me,” she’d said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Just…try to be normal.”

Zoro wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but here he was, sitting in a dimly lit restaurant and already regretting the whole thing. He didn’t have much in the way of expectations, and if he was being honest, he’d already been planning how to politely bail when the evening inevitably turned awkward.

What he wasn’t expecting, though, was you.

When the doors opened and you walked in, Zoro thought for a second that maybe Nami had set him up as some kind of joke. You were…tall. Really tall. At least 6’7, towering over everyone else in the room like it was nothing. But it wasn’t just your height that threw him for a loop. No, it was the way you carried yourself—strong and confident, with curves that made his mouth feel suddenly dry.

And then you smiled.

It was the kind of smile that could light up a whole damn room, warm and genuine, and Zoro had no idea what to do with himself. He froze in place, staring at you like an idiot as you approached the table.

But just as you reached it, you bumped into the corner, your face twisting into an embarrassed grimace as you muttered a barely audible, “Sorry.”

You adjusted your stance quickly, smoothing out your clothes before meeting his gaze. The confident smile returned, but there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes now as you introduced yourself, “…and you must be Zoro.”

Zoro blinked, realizing he’d been sitting there silently like a moron. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “Uh…yeah. That’s me.”

For the first time in a long time, Zoro didn’t know what to say. You were stunning—intimidatingly so, but not in a bad way. More like in a way that made him feel completely unprepared.

“I, uh…didn’t expect…” He trailed off, realizing how stupid that sounded. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to find the words. “I mean…it’s nice to meet you.”

You smiled again, a little softer this time, and sat down across from him. The chair groaned slightly under your weight, but you barely seemed to notice. Zoro, however, was hyper-aware of everything about you—the way your hair framed your face, the faint scent of your perfume, and the way you fiddled with your hands nervously even though you looked like someone who could crush him without breaking a sweat.

“So,” you said, your voice breaking the silence, “should we just dive into the awkward small talk, or do you want to skip straight to figuring out if we’re compatible?”

Zoro smirked, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Depends. What kind of small talk are we talking about?”

“Well, for starters,” you said, leaning in just a little, “what’s the deal with Nami setting us up? She made it seep like you were being held at gun point when you agreed to come.”

Zoro let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s ‘cause I was. Basically told me that I needed to stop being a ‘grumpy loner’ and put myself out there.”

“Well, are you a grumpy loner?” you teased, arching a brow.

“Depends on the day,” he replied, his lips twitching into a rare smile.

The conversation began to flow more naturally after that, and Zoro found himself surprisingly at ease in your presence. You were funny, sharp-witted, and refreshingly down-to-earth. And despite your intimidating height and striking appearance, you had this endearing mix of confidence and awkwardness that made Zoro’s chest feel…weird. Warm, maybe.

He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but one thing was certain: Nami might’ve been onto something.

And as the night went on, Zoro started thinking that maybe—just maybe—he had a type after all.

God Usopp

Usopp’s ability to turn his lies into facts never failed to amaze his crew, no matter how many times it happened. Whether it was fooling enemies into thinking he had an army at his back or convincing others he’d singlehandedly taken down giants, his bluffs always seemed to find a way to come true.

But this time, it felt like he might’ve gone too far.

The night had started innocently enough. They’d walked into the bustling bar, ready to unwind after a long day, and Usopp had quickly taken center stage, boasting to anyone who’d listen about his supposed luck with women. According to him, he had a magnetic charm—women practically threw themselves at him. He spun story after story, weaving tales of effortless flirtations and grand romances, all while nursing his drink like it was the elixir fueling his confidence.

The crew had been amused, as usual, letting him have his moment. That was, until he pushed his luck.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Usopp declared suddenly, slamming his glass down on the table for dramatic effect. “The next woman who walks through that door, I’ll ask her out!”

“Yeah, right,” Zoro snorted, leaning back in his chair with a skeptical smirk.

“Bet you a thousand berries you’ll chicken out,” Sanji added, lighting a cigarette.

Even Luffy was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying the show.

Fueled by their jeers and the buzz of alcohol in his system, Usopp puffed out his chest, confidence radiating off him. “Wait and see! I’ll show you virgin’s how it’s done!”

And then the door swung open.

You walked in, tall, curvy, and striking, with an air of quiet shyness that somehow made you even more intriguing. Your height was intimidating, sure—enough to make most people hesitate—but that didn’t stop the crew’s attention from snapping right to you.

Unfortunately for Usopp, his confidence evaporated the second he saw you. His jaw dropped slightly, and he sank lower in his seat, as if trying to disappear.

Too hot. Way too hot, he thought, panic rising in his chest.

There was absolutely no way he could approach you. But before he could retract his bold declaration, Luffy—ever the instigator—practically shouted across the bar:

“Hey Usopp, a girl just walked in!”

The room went quiet for a beat, every head turning toward your direction—including yours.

Usopp froze, his face turning beet red as the crew burst into laughter at his horrified expression. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

“Don’t back out now, lover boy,” Zoro teased, raising his glass.

Sanji smirked, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Yeah, come on lover boy. Show us “virgin’s” how it’s done.”

It took a solid five minutes of relentless goading, prodding, and Sanji’s smug remarks before Usopp finally caved. His legs felt like lead as he dragged himself across the bar toward your table, his nerves threatening to take him out entirely.

You, meanwhile, had been watching the whole ordeal out of the corner of your eye, trying not to laugh. It was obvious the group of men was teasing him, but when you saw him hesitantly approach your table, his cheeks flushed and his hands fidgeting at his sides, something about his awkward determination made your heart skip.

“H-Hey,” he stammered, stopping in front of you. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact as he forced himself to speak. “I, uh… I couldn’t help but notice you walked in, and, um…I just wanted to say you look—uh—really nice. Really, uh…really pretty, actually.”

Your face warmed at his words, and you offered him a small smile. “Thank you,” you said softly, finding his obvious nerves oddly endearing.

He exhaled sharply, relieved that you hadn’t immediately brushed him off. “So, uh…I was wondering if I could maybe, um, buy you a drink? If you don’t mind, that is.”

He was a stuttering mess, barely able to hold your gaze for more than a second, but his earnestness was hard to ignore.

You chuckled nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sure. I’d like that.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night talking, your initial shyness melting away as you realized just how much you had in common. Usopp, despite his earlier bluster, turned out to be easy to talk to once he got past his nerves. He told you about his adventures (embellished, of course), and you shared a few stories of your own, laughing at his exaggerated reactions.

By the end of the night, the two of you were sitting closer, your heads nearly touching as you exchanged quiet words amidst the noisy bar. When he finally asked for your number—his voice cracking slightly as he did—it was an easy “yes.”

When he returned to his crew, they were in shock.

“Huh, you actually got her number?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sanji looked like he was about to faint. “How?!”

Even Luffy was impressed, clapping Usopp on the back with a wide grin.

Usopp grinned cheekily, slipping his hands into his pockets as he tried to play it cool. “What can I say? The ladies can’t resist the great Captain Usopp.”

But the blush on his face—and the way his gaze kept darting back to you—told a different story.

Eustass Kidd

Kidd wasn’t a small guy—not in height, not in build, and definitely not in personality. He was used to being the one towering over others, the one commanding attention in every room. But then there was you.

You weren’t exactly small, either. You were tall enough to meet his gaze, tall enough that he had to actually look up when you wore certain shoes. And somehow, that fact alone drove him up the wall. It wasn’t just your height, either—it was the way you used it. The way you leaned down just enough to get in his face during arguments, a teasing smirk on your lips that made his blood boil. It wasn’t clear whether he wanted to bite you or kiss you senseless. Hell, maybe both.

Your slim, graceful frame only added to your air of superiority, and the way you carried yourself—poised and unapologetically confident, like some untouchable princess—clashed with Kidd’s brash, rough-edged demeanor in ways that sent sparks flying.

The first time you joined his crew, he’d made it very clear he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “This ship has no room for some tall, prissy princess who can’t even fight properly,” he’d snarled, his tone biting.

Yet, every time the idea of you leaving came up, he was the first to shoot it down. He always had some half-baked excuse—“We need the extra hands,” or “No one else can handle that task but her.” But the truth was glaringly obvious to everyone but him: he didn’t want you to go.

You, of course, loved to needle him about it. Whether it was teasing him about his temper, calling him “short” just to see him fume, or subtly challenging his authority just to watch him rise to the bait, you knew exactly how to get under his skin.

And right now, you were doing it without even trying.

The crew was docked on an island for the day, giving everyone a much-needed break. While Kidd had been supervising repairs to the ship, you’d wandered off, only to bump into an old friend. Kidd hadn’t paid much attention until he turned around and saw you hugging some guy—a scrawny, soft-looking guy at that.

Normally, you brushed off men as if they were flies, always quick with a sharp word or a cold glare if they got too close. But now? You were smiling. Laughing. Letting this guy get all touchy, and even worse, you didn’t seem to mind. You’d even waved off the crew, saying you’d catch up later as you wandered off with him.

It was the first time Kidd had seen you without that infuriating sass, without the sarcasm or biting wit. And he hated it. He hated the way his chest tightened when you walked away. Hated the fact that the sight of you being soft with someone else was enough to ruin his mood for the rest of the day.

When you finally came back to the ship, he was waiting for you at the gangplank, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Is that seriously your type?” he asked as soon as you got close.

You froze, your brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“Thought you would’ve had better taste,” Kidd said, scoffing. “That guy was so scrawny, it’s pathetic. There’s no way he could handle someone like you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh? And who said I wanted to be handled?”

His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re a brat,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Someone’s gotta handle that.”

You raised a brow, stepping closer, your tone dripping with mockery. “And who exactly do you think could “handle” me? You?”

Kidd let out a sharp laugh, one that had the crew glancing over in curiosity. “Damn right,” he growled, and before you could say another word, he grabbed you.

With an ease that startled you, he hoisted you over his shoulder, ignoring your yelp of surprise and the way you immediately started struggling.

“Kidd! Put me down, you overgrown idiot!” you shouted, kicking your legs as he started walking.

“Try asking nicely, princess,” he said with a cocky grin, as he continued to carry you below deck as if you weighed nothing.

By the time he dumped you onto the mattress in his quarters, you were fuming, your face hot with embarrassment. You scrambled to sit up, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but he cut you off, stepping closer and leaning down just enough to cage you in.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice though quieter now, was still rough around the edges. “Always in my face, always mouthing off, always making me question whether I hate you or…” He trailed off, his gaze flickering down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Or what?” you whispered, your voice unsteady.

“Or want you,” he finished bluntly. “And I’m sick of pretending it’s not the second one.”

Your heart skipped at his confession, and for once, you were at a loss for words. You’d always assumed he couldn’t stand you—that all the bickering and banter was just part of his general dislike for you. But now, with the way he was looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically soft, you weren’t so sure anymore.

Before you could gather your thoughts, he straightened slightly, his voice dropping. “Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you completely off guard, your cheeks heating as you stared up at him. Kidd never asked for anything—he just took. But now, with his sharp edges momentarily softened, waiting for your answer, it made your chest ache in a way you didn’t expect.

Swallowing your nerves, you nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you murmured.

The moment your words left your mouth, Kidd closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle. It wasn’t rushed or forceful—it was steady, deliberate, and filled with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a rare, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re still a brat,” he muttered, his voice laced with affection.

“And you’re still an overgrown idiot,” you shot back, though there was no venom in your words.

He chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw. “And yet you let this overgrown idiot kiss you.”

You didn’t have a clever comeback for that—not this time. Instead, you leaned up, pulling him back into another kiss, letting it speak for you instead.

─────────────⋆ฺ｡*:･

One Piece Masterlist

not proofread!!

i imagined reader to be over 6’ for those whose heights aren’t explicitly stated. also i am not tall so i hopefully i did the tall girlies justice!!

[willing to do a part two of this with any other op men or women :p]

also happy new year!!

[aspenmissing]

ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟʟɪꜱ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇʜᴏʟᴅ

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 2532 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ʟɪɢʜᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʟᴀʏꜰᴜʟ ʙᴀɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ, ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. ꜱᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ʙʀɪɴɢɪɴɢ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ

The evening air was cool, carrying a slight breeze through the open window as Viktor and Jayce returned home from their long day in the lab. The soft clinking of utensils and the delicious smell of dinner cooking greeted them as they stepped inside.

You sat in the living room, your reading glasses perched on the tip of your nose, deeply immersed in the pages of your book. The quiet hum of the house was comforting, and the flickering light from the candles on the mantel gave the room an intimate glow. As the door shut behind them, you looked up, offering them a bright, warm smile.

“Perfect timing,” you said, your voice soft but filled with affection. “Food’s almost ready.”

Jayce's face lit up, his usual energy returning as he pushed past Viktor, who was slower in his movements, his cane clicking gently against the floor. “I can smell it from here,” Jayce grinned. “I’m starved!”

Viktor gave you a soft smile, appreciating both the warmth of your greeting and the care you always put into making their evenings special. He walked over to the kitchen, his golden eyes catching yours for a moment before he looked back at the table. “It smells wonderful as always,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion but still warm.

After a quick exchange of pleasantries, the three of you sat down at the dining table. The meal, an aromatic stew accompanied by fresh bread, was rich and hearty, a perfect way to unwind after a day filled with intellectual challenges.

“So,” you began between bites, “how did the experiment go today? No explosions this time, I hope?”

Jayce chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Well, we almost set off the fire alarms, but it wasn’t quite as bad as last time.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, giving Jayce a pointed look. “You’re lucky it wasn’t as bad. Maybe next time we should consider not trying to harness hextech for things it wasn’t meant to do.”

You chuckled at their playful bickering, enjoying the calm that surrounded the evening. After finishing dinner, the three of you cleaned up the dishes together, with Jayce and Viktor bickering over the best way to scrub the pots and pans, while you effortlessly took care of the smaller details.

Once everything was in order, the three of you retreated to the living room to wind down. Viktor changed into his comfortable clothes, his long sleeves and baggy top perfect for the evening, while Jayce opted for a pair of loose shorts, his muscular frame visible as he stretched and relaxed.

They both plopped down onto the couch with you, Viktor’s leg gently draped over Jayce’s lap. You leaned back into the cushions, opening your book again and continuing to read, your fingers absently running through Viktor's hair as his head rested in your lap. He closed his eyes, sinking into the moment of peace.

Jayce began massaging Viktor's bad leg, his hands firm but gentle as he worked the muscles. Viktor let out a small, satisfied sigh, leaning further into you. "Feels better already," he murmured.

As you absentmindedly ran your fingers through Viktor’s hair, you could feel his playful gaze on you - looking at the green face mask you have put on while they got changed. His voice broke the quiet calm with his usual wit. “And here I thought I was the one needing pampering tonight, but it seems my lovely ogre has decided to get comfortable.”

You stopped mid-motion, raising an eyebrow and smacking him lightly on the back of his head. “You’re lucky I love you,” you teased.

Jayce laughed, his hand still working Viktor’s leg. "Ogre?" he grinned, eyes sparkling. “More like a beautiful queen if you ask me.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his golden eyes glinting with amusement despite the face mask he wore. "A queen, you say?" he chuckled, his voice smooth. "I suppose that makes me your humble servant, then."

Jayce snorted, clearly enjoying the banter. "I think you're more like the royal jester, Vik," he teased, giving Viktor's leg a playful squeeze. "You’re the one making all the jokes."

Viktor smirked, his lips curling despite the green mask. "Well, if I’m the jester, I’d say my queen has impeccable taste." He shot you a wink, making you roll your eyes.

You chuckled, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Still lucky I love you,” you said, shaking your head at his antics.

Jayce pouted dramatically, his playful expression making it clear he was only half-serious. “Hey, what about me?” he asked, his eyes wide with mock indignation. “I’m over here giving the royal massages, and I’m not even getting a title?”

You laughed, reaching over to hold his arm “You’re the loyal knight, of course,” you teased, “always serving your queen and making sure the jester’s leg doesn’t fall off.”

Jayce grinned, looking pleased with the title. “Loyal knight, huh? I like that. Maybe I should get a shiny new armour set to match.”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. "You might need to work on your knighthood a little more before you start asking for shiny armor, Jayce."

Jayce shot him a playful glare, still smiling. "Hey, I'm just saying—if I’m a knight, I better be getting the royal treatment too." He glanced at you. “What do you think, my queen?”

You chuckled, stroking his arm. “You get all the royal treatment, my knight,” you said with a wink, “but you’ll have to settle for not wearing the face mask. I want to see that pretty face whenever I want.”

Eventually, as the evening grew darker, you moved the two of them toward the bathroom to get ready for bed. The warm, cozy atmosphere of the night wrapped around the three of you, making the simple act of getting ready for bed feel more intimate than ever.

Jayce squeezed past you to reach the sink, playfully nudging you out of the way. "Alright, now it's my turn," he grinned, grabbing the toothbrush and applying a generous amount of paste.

You chuckled, leaning against the counter as Viktor stood beside you, quietly preparing his own toothbrush. "You might want to go a little easier on the paste, Jayce. You're not brushing an entire ship."

Jayce just winked at you as he started brushing, his eyes still glinting with mischief. Viktor glanced over at the two of you, his expression softening. He picked up his toothbrush, focusing on the task at hand. As the sound of brushing filled the room, it was almost like a quiet symphony—a little routine that felt comforting in its familiarity.

Once you were all done, Viktor rinsed and turned to face you, watching you carefully removed the green face mask. You then pat your face dry, as you apply moisturiser to your face.

Viktor’s voice cut through the air with his usual dry wit. “I didn’t realize the ogre transformation extended to skincare routines as well,” he teased, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

You shot Viktor a playful glare, rolling your eyes as you rubbed the moisturizer into your skin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous,” you teased, your fingers working in smooth circles across your face. “Maybe next time, you should join me and see how it feels.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling at his lips. “Jealous?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Hardly. I’m simply admiring my lovely ogre in her natural habitat.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you finished applying the moisturizer. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not in full ogre mode tonight. You’ll just have to make do with the softer version.”

Viktor leaned against the doorframe, eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “I’ll manage. For now.”

As you finished rubbing the moisturizer into your skin, you looked up and caught sight of Jayce standing behind Viktor, carefully applying the moisturizer to his face with a look of intense concentration. His brows furrowed as he tried to get every inch of his face covered, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

Viktor turned his head to follow your gaze, his expression turning into an amused glare as he caught Jayce in the act. Jayce, oblivious to the sudden attention, was still busy dabbing the cream onto his skin.

Viktor’s dry humor cut through the quiet air as he finally spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ah, so this is what it’s come to. My beloved scientific genius is now a skincare aficionado. Perhaps we should add ‘moisturizer expert’ to your resume, Jayce.”

Jayce froze for a moment, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he looked up to see both of you watching him. “What? A guy’s gotta take care of himself,” he said with a shrug, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction, the tension breaking in the most delightful way. “Looks like you’ve got competition for the skincare throne, Viktor.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident. “I’m not worried. Let’s see how long his interest in this ‘beauty routine’ lasts after a few more experiments go awry.”

Jayce grinned, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Hey, beauty and brains. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Viktor gave a dramatic sigh, his lips twitching as he glanced back at you. “I suppose next, we’ll be discussing which products are best for keeping our hair from looking like this,” he said, motioning vaguely at his dishevelled hair with a grin.

Jayce immediately burst out laughing, his hands dropping to his sides as he glanced over at Viktor’s messy hair. “Oh, now I see it! You’ve been avoiding the hair gel for days, haven’t you?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe that’s why you’re so grumpy—your hair’s probably holding all your frustrations hostage.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at the playful exchange between the two. “I think Viktor’s just naturally rebellious, you know?” you said, giving Viktor a teasing look. “Who needs hair gel when you can pull off the ‘mad scientist’ look?”

Viktor shot you both a mock scowl, but there was an obvious glint of amusement in his golden eyes. “I’m simply too busy for frivolous things like... maintaining my hair,” he said dryly. “Not all of us have the luxury of spending hours on our appearance.”

You grinned, stepping closer to Viktor and gently smoothing down a few of the unruly strands of his hair. “Well, I think you look fine just the way you are, mad scientist or not,” you said, offering him a small, affectionate smile.

Jayce dramatically placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. “I see how it is. No love for the man with perfectly styled hair,” he said, putting on a pout.

You shot him a playful glance, shaking your head. “You’re just jealous, Jayce. You can’t compete with Viktor’s effortless genius.”

Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in mock defeat. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll just have to settle for the title of ‘skincare expert.’”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, giving a little smirk. “Careful, Jayce. I hear they give out awards for that sort of thing. Might even get a plaque for ‘Best Moisturizer Application’.”

Jayce shot him a grin. “Hey, I’ll take the plaque if it means having softer skin.”

With the night routine done, the three of you headed to bed. Viktor, in his baggy top, lay on one side of the bed, while Jayce, shirtless, took the middle.

As the three of you settled into bed, the warmth of your shared space wrapped around you like a comforting cocoon. The soft hum of the night outside drifted through the windows, but within the bed, it was just the three of you, winding down after a long day.

Jayce let out a relaxed sigh as you snuggled closer to him, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders. “I’ve got to admit, this might be my favorite part of the day,” he murmured, his voice low and full of contentment. “After all the chaos, there’s nothing better than just lying here with you two.”

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Agreed. I think we’ve all earned a little quiet time,” you said, glancing over at Viktor, who had settled on the other side of Jayce, his arm draped over your Jayce, and intertwined with your hand.

Viktor chuckled lightly, his voice a little rough from a day full of conversation and experimentation. “Quiet time, hmm? I’m not sure Jayce knows what that is,” he teased, his golden eyes twinkling in the soft light. “I seem to recall someone talking non-stop about the latest hextech prototype.”

Jayce groaned playfully, nudging Viktor with his elbow. “Hey, I can’t help it if I get excited about new ideas! Someone has to keep things interesting around here.”

You laughed softly, the playful energy in the air making everything feel lighter. “I think we all know who the real troublemaker is around here,” you teased, directing your gaze at Viktor, whose face was already wearing an exaggerated look of innocence. Jayce chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest, causing it to bounce lightly beneath you — and with it, your head shifted ever so slightly, adding to the warmth of the moment.

“I’m simply a man of intellect,” Viktor said with a mock-serious tone. “I do what’s necessary to push the boundaries of science… and occasionally, I make the bed a bit more interesting with my genius.”

Jayce snorted, shaking his head. “Sure, Viktor. ‘Genius.’ Just admit that you like to stir things up to get a reaction from us.”

Viktor smirked. “Maybe a little. But only because it’s so easy.”

You shook your head, chuckling softly. “You two are impossible,” you said, feeling the warmth of both their bodies surrounding you. “But that’s why I love you.”

Jayce leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’re impossible together. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Viktor, not to be outdone, leaned over to kiss your cheek. “And don’t forget that your ‘mad scientist’ has a heart too,” he added, his voice soft but filled with affection.

With the two of them so close, the world outside felt a little farther away, the comfort of their presence lulling you toward sleep. The playful banter gradually faded into quiet, and the three of you lay together in peaceful silence, content and ready to face whatever the next day would bring.

"Goodnight, you two," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

"Goodnight, love," Viktor murmured, his hand gently brushing through your hair.

Jayce squeezed you a little tighter, his voice the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep. “Sweet dreams, my queen.”

And with that, the night enveloped you in its quiet embrace, the gentle rhythm of their breathing and the warmth of your shared love wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. In that peaceful, contented silence, you found the perfect way to end the day—surrounded by the people who meant everything to you.

[cybergothvox]

With all due respect, you cannot actually tell if a space is clear of kff and safe based on the language that they use. You have to actually investigate further regardless and not assume its safe or not just from those things. I do think a high instance as kin as a verb is a red flag, but you shouldnt think its the only indicator you need. And its fine to tell people the connotations, but its not fair to write people off just because they personally find it useful or to continually insist they change.

The origional post wasnt really meant to speak on if it should be done, but more on the controling behaviour i saw where people aggressively tried to force people out of it by bullying them, which is not okay.

However, let me speak on its use case for a moment.

Several people have said it is bad to use because it implies kin is a action rather than an identity. And i want to remind those people that kin can be an action.

Take for a moment the word introject. I am a fictive, and therefore i am an introject. However, also when my brain decided to adopt vox into my mind, it introjected him. I introjected vox. As a verb. It is an event that happened. I also am an introject. Its a verb and a noun and it is my identity. I am really vox, even if i wasnt always vox and its something I did.

Not all otherkin are spiritual otherkin who beleive they always were their type. To me, as a psychological otherkin, becoming a kintype is the exact same process as introjecting something, its just we say introject when an alter is forming, and kin for kintypes that are picked after an alter is already formed. For psychological kin who are singlets, who also do not beleive that they were kin until they saw the thing they are kin of and formed a relationship, being kin can be an occurance, an action being taken voluntarily or involuntarily (remember people Can become otherkin on purpose. I know there was a whole community discourse on it but the conclusion of the community at large that i saw was as long as you seriously identify as your types at the end, it counts.)

In these cases, kin makes sense as a verb. I personally use the word the same as the word introject. I will normally introduce myself as JDkin for example, since Being it is what is important during an introduction. But when talking about new kintypes forming, i will go 'i think i might kin that' and other similar things. Its not even a choice im making really, but its what natrually comes out because to me it is the same thing as introjecting so i natrually use the word the same was as introject.

I think that its important to convey to people that being otherkin is a serious identity where we identify as the things, but policing language isnt really going to do that the way spreading correct information and sharing our experiences is. And again, by trying to force people to conform to certain language (explaining your reasons for certain language is fine, my post was about the genuine harassment new members are facing) you make the community a hostile place for new comers and makes it feel full of rules that make people uninterested in learning from us.

'I kin x' is less clunky linguistically and we need to stop assuming people are kff just because they use kin as a verb. Its a very natural way to say it and I struggle to phrase it in other ways. In general people need to stop assuming that red flags for kff (such as kin as a verb, and ranking how much they feel their kintypes, saying kinnie) and assuming they definitely are kff. Languages and practices started by kff have been picked up by genuine otherkin especially younger ones who come into the community and dont know how to tell otherkin from kff. They still identify as their kintypes even if they copy kff practices.

People dont come into the community with a community history degree.

[heartsriki]

PAW AND PREJUDICE ⌇야옹

pairing ᝰ jay x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 1.8k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, misunderstandings, next door neighbor au, cussing, kissing, lots of bickering.

synopsis — after a bad first impression on jays part, his cat, shadow, might help you change your view on your attractive next door neighbor.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊this is actually so cute, I hope someone understands the title LMAOO hope you like it!

Every day, like clockwork, a black cat hopped up onto your window sill and let out a small meow. At first, it only stayed for an hour before wandering off, but over time, it wouldn’t leave until you let it in.

“Where’s your owner, huh?” you cooed at the cat, scratching under its chin. As you examined it, you noticed it wore no collar or any sign of having an owner. “If you do have an owner, they’re pretty irresponsible for letting someone as cute as you wander off like this.”

You glanced around your apartment, trying to find a spot for the cat to sleep for the night. No cat food. No bed. You considered making a quick trip to the store, but your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell echoing through your apartment.

Sighing, you scooped the cat up in one arm and shuffled toward the door. When you opened it, Jay stood there awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with an uncertain smile.

“Hey, uh… have you—” His words trailed off as his eyes landed on the cat in your arms. “There he is. How convenient.”

“Convenient indeed, Jay,” you replied, narrowing your eyes and shifting the cat slightly out of view.

Three weeks ago, you and Jay had what could only be described as a disastrous first meeting. When you moved into the apartment next door, you’d left your door partially open to make carrying boxes easier. Jay overhearing that the new tenant was a guy, decided to stop by and offer a hand. What he didn’t expect was to find you standing in the middle of your living room, wrapped in nothing but a towel. His mortified expression said it all, and while you hadn’t forgotten, you certainly hadn’t forgiven the awkwardness either.

“Did you stop by to see more this time?” you asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Jay’s face flushed instantly. “What? No! That’s not what happened!” He sighed, trying to recover. “You’re holding my cat.”

You glanced at the black cat, tilting your head. “He doesn’t have a collar. How do I know he’s yours?”

Jay put his hands on his hips and let out a long breath. “Shadow, come here,” he said, giving a quick whistle.

Without hesitation, the cat leaped from your arms and perched on Jay’s shoulder, rubbing its head affectionately against his cheek.

“Guess he is yours,” you muttered, clicking your tongue in annoyance. “Get him a collar, you jerk. What if he gets lost?”

Jay blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by your scolding, but before he could respond, you shut the door in his face.

“This sucks,” Jay muttered to the cat. Lifting Shadow, he stared him in the eyes. “And what did I tell you about sneaking out? You little shithead.”

Later that night, you couldn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, you thought of Jay’s smug expression when Shadow leaped into his arms. The nerve of that guy. Shadow didn’t even have a collar—how was anyone supposed to know he wasn’t a stray?

Annoyed, you got up and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. As you stared out the window, a familiar silhouette caught your attention. Jay was standing outside on the small shared patio between your apartments, his phone pressed to his ear. He was pacing, one hand in his hair, visibly frustrated.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but the muffled sound of his voice drifted through your open window.

“I don’t know, man,” he muttered, his tone low but agitated. “She’s impossible. Every time I try to fix things, she just—, forget it.”

You froze, realizing he was talking about you.

There was a pause, and then he sighed. “Yeah, I know I should just leave it Jungwon, but Shadow keeps going over there. What am I supposed to do? Lock him inside forever?”

Your fingers tightened around the glass in your hand. The nerve of him, acting like this was your fault. You didn’t ask for his cat to show up on your window sill every day.

“It’s a real bummer though, Shes actually super cu—“

Before he could finish his sentence, you pushed the window open. “Hey, if you’ve got a problem with me, maybe you should say it to me personally!”

Jay startled, spinning around to face you. “What the—? Were you spying on me?”

“Spying? Please,” you shot back. “It’s not my fault you were practically yelling about me in the middle of the night.”

He took a step closer, leaning on the railing. The soft glow of the patio light highlighted the irritation in his expression—and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Maybe if you didn’t slam doors in people’s faces, I wouldn’t have anything to yell about.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so full of yourself, I wouldn’t have to,” you countered, crossing your arms.

Jay let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Right back at you,” you snapped. “And for the record, if Shadow keeps showing up here, it’s because your cat clearly has better taste than you do.”

“Or maybe he just feels sorry for you,” Jay shot back, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his attempt to sound serious.

Your cheeks flushed, though whether from anger or something else, you weren’t sure. “Whatever. Just keep your voice down this late at night you asshole.”

“Sure thing, neighbor,” he said with mock politeness, turning to head back inside. But before he stepped through his door, he glanced back at you. “Sweet dreams.”

The door shut behind him, leaving you fuming—and, much to your annoyance, slightly flustered.

Two days later, the universe decided to test your patience again. Your AC broke down in the middle of a hot day, leaving your apartment feeling like a sauna. You’d tried calling the repair office, but they were swamped with requests.

Draped lazily on the couch in thin, barely-there clothes, you tried to ignore the heat until a familiar meow caught your attention. Shadow sat on your window sill, waiting as usual.

“Hey, buddy,” you said with a weak laugh, pulling him inside. “Not sure you want to hang out here today—it’s an oven in here.”

You played with him for a while, grateful for the distraction, until another ring of the doorbell brought you back to reality.

Groaning, you made your way to the door and opened it to find Jay standing there. His eyes widened as he took in your appearance—tank top, shorts, and skin glistening with sweat.

“Woah—uh, my bad,” he stammered, quickly averting his gaze all red now. “Is Shadow here?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let him see for himself. “What do you think?”

As Jay walked in and bent down to pick up Shadow, he glanced around. “Why’s it so hot in here? What’s up with your AC?”

“It’s broken,” you replied flatly, giving him a pointed look and a slight push. “Now, go.”

“Wait! I can fix it,” he blurted out, raising his hands defensively. “If you’ve got some tools, I can help.”

You hesitated but eventually relented, the heat sapping your energy. “Fine. Don’t be weird.”

Jay got to work, tinkering with the AC unit while you tried not to stare. It was hard not to, though, with his black shirt clinging to his frame and his rolled-up sleeves showing off his forearms. You cursed the heat—not because it was uncomfortable, but because it made him look entirely too good.

Jay on the other hand could feel you staring holes into him. He smirked at the thought of it. “Look at who is being weird now..”

You turned around quickly changing your focus to the TV. “Shut up before I kick you out”

He looked back at you over his shoulder with a laugh. “And let another guy fix this for you? Sorry pretty I think that would hurt my pride.”

You remained looking at the TV with a slight cough from shock, A deep red displaying on your face.

After what felt like an eternity, the AC whirred back to life, and you let out an excited gasp. Standing directly beneath the cool air, you clapped your hands like a kid.

Jay stepped down from the stool, a proud smile on his face. “So, should I put the tools back where I found them?”

“No,” you said absentmindedly, still basking in the cool air. “Actually, can you put them in the cabinet above the washing machine in the utility room?”

“Sure,” he replied, heading off with the toolbox.

It took you a second to realize what was in that drawer. “Wait! Don’t open it!”

But it was too late. When you reached him, he was holding a shiny blue collar with Shadow’s name engraved on a gold tag. Jay’s name, your number, and his were etched on the back.

“Did you… get this for Shadow?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“Well…” You trailed off, clutching your wrist awkwardly.

In all honesty, you meant to apologize to Jay sooner. A couple of days after Shadow appeared on your doorstep for the first time, you spotted a man in front of Jay's apartment. His name was Jungwon and apparently, he was looking for Shadow to take care of him for the week since Jay was out on business. When you told him he was with you, he was confused until you took him to your apartment next door and he realized who you were.

“Ohhh… you're the girl from next door he won’t shut up about, y/n?” You looked at him cautiously.

Jungwon explained Jay's entire point of view on the situation.

“Yeah you should really give him another chance, I mean the story doesn’t even make sense, Jay would never walk up on a girl like that, if anything he's the best option out of all seven of us.”

Now, with Jay standing so close, holding that collar, you finally found the courage to speak. “I’m sorry. I should’ve let you explain. I was wrong.”

Jay’s grin widened, he looked at you lovingly which is completely new compared to the glares and cold remarks shared with one another (mostly just you) and before you could say anything more, his hands gently found your waist. He leaned in, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, kissing him softly.

The kiss deepened, slow and cautious turning into something more. The pace started increasing when he picked you up and placed you on top of the washing machine. The world seemed completely silent at that moment as you placed your hands in his hair and he snuck his hands under your tanktop to feel the warmth of your waist. That caused you to exhale into his mouth and bring him closer.

That was until a loud meow interrupted the moment. Both of you broke apart, glancing down to find Shadow sitting at Jay’s feet, staring up at you both.

“Shit— really Shadow? Right now?” he sighed keeping his hands on your waist.

You looked at how disappointed he was and laughed, he laughed with you.

“So,” he said, smirking. “Does this mean I can stop using my cat as an excuse to visit you?”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Shadow do it,” Jay said hastily staring at Shadow through the window. Shadow licked his paw ignoring him. “Seriously out of all the times now you don't want to go to her apartment?”

Shadow looked at him silently still not budging.

“I should've gotten a dog instead, asshole.”

[sailf1sh]

I am bored, so I'm posting my Zosan queer headcannons. Queer beam go 🏳️‍🌈✨✨

Zoro Gay/Asexual (He/him)

- Zoro likes what Zoro likes. There's never really been a time in his life where he's questioned his sexuality. He knows he likes men, and he knows he values a partner that's strong and capable. It's as simple as that to him.

- When he gets older and people start asking him about these things, does he finally learn there are labels for them. And again, he doesn't see it as any big thing to be worried about. He's focused on his dream, and relationships can come later.

- When he begins to like Sanji, he hesitates to do anything. He sees Sanji swoon over girls and simply makes the assumption that there would be nothing there. So he holds his tongue and moves on. Or at least tries to.

- There are times when he finds another person he likes, such as Luffy or even Ace. Ace leaves before anything could spark, and Luffy is very obviously not interested in anything romantic of the sort.

- He finds common ground with Nami, since she's in a similar boat to him. She will tell him how she misses Vivi and he will tell her about a stubborn cook. He finally finds a person to properly talk about sexuality with, something he didn't even realize was pretty nice to have.

- Eventually he settles on saying that he's gay and asexual. He doesn't exactly care about labels, nor does he know if these are the ones that perfectly fit him, but he decides that's the answer he'll give if someone asks.

- He knows he likes men, and he knows that he's not really interested in sexual activities. Not that he's revolted by them or won't participate in them at all, it's just not something he thinks about.

Sanji Bisexual/Gender Queer (He/She)

- Sanji is a mess of repression and internalized homophobia. He would never be homophobic to other queer people, but himself? There was no way he would ever be queer.

- He swoons for women and dotes on them, pushing any feelings for men so far down that he doesn't even recognize he even has them. When he meets Ace, that quickly changes.

- For the first time in his life, he properly questions his own attraction. He experiments. Only a touch though, because that voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Judge berates him for it.

- So he continues to hide any of those feelings away for a very long time. It's only when he's sent to the Kamabakka kingdom and meets Ivankov that he can really learn to express himself. It takes a lot of running, fighting, and yelling for him to realize that maybe he likes men and maybe that's okay.

- He leaves Kamabakka with the knowledge that he's bisexual. He learned plenty of things about the different labels and identities and everything under the sun--he's bisexual. Nothing else to it.

- Of course, when he sees that stupid swordsman again, he maybe realizes he's harboring some kind of attraction for the man. Fine, he can be bisexual, but liking Zoro? That boar of a man? Absolutely not.

- But after everything that happened on Whole Cake Island and Wano, he realizes that maybe he doesn't want to hide his feelings anymore. He needs to apologize first, though.

Zosan

- After Wano, Zoro and Sanji finally sit down and talk. It's tense and awkward, because neither really knows what to do when it comes to liking the other.

- Zoro tells Sanji that he was hurt when he left for Whole Cake, not because of any sort of jealousy but because Sanji wouldn't ask for help. He tells him that he admires his strength and stubbornness, and that arguments maybe became something he enjoyed.

- Sanji tells Zoro how much he struggles to believe that he's loved. He explains that he's trying to be better and ask for help, but it's hard. He tells him that he wants to do better and try to let himself be cared for. He also may or may not say he likes the way Zoro's muscles look and how his chest looks very heavy maybe he should hold it--

- They decide to try whatever it is the two of them are. Sanji still swoons for women of course, that's just how he is, but Zoro doesn't mind. He knows at the end of the day Sanji wouldn't actually pursue anyone else. Sanji dotes on Zoro a bit more, always enjoying being able to take care of someone, and who is he to deny the opportunity to wash the swordsman's back after he trains?

- They never really hide their relationship, but it still takes a while for the crew to realize. It takes Ussop stumbling upon them kissing in the galley for the rug to really get pulled. Fanky insists on giving them a proper room, and he cleans up the first mate's quarters just for the two of them (which also gives him the idea to maybe ask Robin about doing something similar with the Captain's quarters, it's not like Luffy used it, after all).

- They were partners, on the battlefield and off. They bickered and they fought, but they also went to each other after a fight to make sure the other was okay. They would do the dishes together and sleep in the same bed. Sanji had a spot in the crows nest just for him: an open window with an ashtray for him to sit and smoke with his recipe book. Zoro had a place in the galley: a corner of the couch with the supplies to clean his swords beside it.

- Over time Sanji was able to talk about his childhood more, and more than once Zoro offered to go and remove a few Vinsmoke heads.

- It takes a long time, well into Zoro and Sanji's middle years, for Sanji to actually accept that maybe his gender isn't as solid as he thought. It takes a while, but again, he manages to accept this part of himself too. Sometimes he likes to wear dresses and feminine things, and that's fine. Sometimes he likes to be called girlfriend or lady or miss, and that's okay too. Zoro loves him no matter what.

- Long after the Once Piece is found, Zoro becomes the world's greatest swordsman, and Sanji finds the All Blue, the two have a wedding. It's a simple affair, and Sanji wouldn't have wanted it any other way. They invite their friends and family; Zeff, the Straw Hats, Mihawk and Perona (though Zoro still grumbles about them not actually being his family), even Law comes--mostly at Luffy's insistence. Reiju stops by for a few moments to congratulate them, but she doesn't stay long. Luffy is the one to actually wed them, this being one of the rare times that he gets serious about something.

- Afterwards there's a feast, one Sanji prepared of course. Zeff and Sanji bicker about recipes, but Zeff has tears in his eyes as he walks his child down the aisle.

- The rings--or rather the earrings--are one of Zoro's golden earrings and a blue pearl from the All Blue. They love each other deeply, and step into the future together.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

MARCH

Megan: How did your appointment go? Asher: Good. It was just a consultation, but she walked us through the whole process and let us know what to expect and everything.

Megan: So, what’s next? Atlas: I go back next week for a physical. Blood work, sperm sample, the whole nine. Megan: Okay, great. I assume they’ll do some genetic testing, but are you aware of any medical issues that run in your family?

Atlas: [shrugs] Dawn inherited a disorder from our mom that affects fertility, but I don’t think that’s something that could affect me. Otherwise, I don’t really know. That’s the hard part about not being in touch with our family. I can’t exactly call them up and ask about their medical history.

Megan: You don’t think it’s worth trying? Atlas: [shakes his head] Megan: Okay.

Asher: Dr. Reede also said they have an agency they use for matching couples with a surrogate, and we can make like a video and a profile and all that if we want. Megan: Is that the direction you want to go? Asher: I think we’d prefer someone we know, but that has its own complications. And I’m not sure if anyone would be willing or able to do this for us. So, it’s best to keep all options open at this point.

Megan: Makes sense. Do you have anyone in mind that you’d ask? Atlas: [shrugs] Asher: We haven’t really talked about it yet.

…

Lex: Please don’t ask me. I’d feel like shit telling you no. Asher: Don’t worry, I know you well enough not to ask. Besides, you’re disqualified anyway. You have to have given birth at least once before they’ll let you be a surrogate.

Blair: Well shit, I was going to offer. Asher: You’re just saying that because you know you can’t now. Blair: That’s not true. I really would do it for you guys. Asher: Aw, well, that’s sweet, thank you.

Lex: So, who do you know that’s already had a baby? Atlas: Dawn, but she wouldn’t be able to. Lex: What about Iris? I’m sure she’s just waiting for you to ask her. Asher: [rolls his eyes] Absolutely not. I don’t need her getting in one of her moods and suddenly deciding she’s anything more than an aunt. Lex: Valid.

Atlas: Yeah, it’s going to be a lot more expensive, but I think we should contact the agency and see if they can match us with someone. Asher: It feels so weird, like some kind of bizarre dating service. Atlas: Right, like before there were apps and people would get VHS tapes and watch five-minute clips of people talking about themselves.

Lex: Was that really a thing? Atlas: It was! Blair: Would you ever submit a video clip for something like that? Atlas: Oh god no, I’d stay single.

Asher: I would! I’d do it just so I could watch everyone else’s. Lex: You’re such a shit. Asher: What? Curiosity. It’s not like I’d make fun of them or anything, I’m not a dick. And who knows, maybe I’d meet someone. You never know if you don’t try. Blair: That’s the only reason I ever sign up for apps. You never know who you might meet.

Lex: That’s true. Blair and I never would’ve met if I hadn’t decided on a whim to try speed-dating. Blair: See, Atlas, it’s all about putting yourself out there. Atlas: Luckily, I never have to deal with that shit again. I am married, in case you’ve forgotten. Blair: Oh yeah, you two really are into the whole monogamy thing, aren’t you?

Asher: A hundred percent. Blair: Fair enough. I’m getting hungry, are you staying for dinner? Asher: No, it’s Sunday. Lex: Oh yes, Dinner at Dawn’s. Atlas: Yeah, in fact we better get going.