#getting to know me whether you like it or not...

[muli-wam]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro did not do relationships.

"Can I stay the night? I-" the brunette he was 8 inches deep in just a few moments ago would say.

Toji didn't even know her name. He just let out a mocking chuckle and told her to get out as he did pushups on the floor next to the bed.

"I'll call you an uber," he would say.

She would look at him in disbelief before scoffing and storming out with disheveled hair and clothes.

This was clockwork.

His routine consisted of boxing, flirting, fucking, and then more boxing.

He wasn't going to change that for some girl.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro didn't go on dates, he didn't even look the woman in the eyes while fucking.

He has 3 strict rules for him and his hookups: No talking, no eye contact, and no kissing on the lips. (And always use condoms because the last thing Toji wanted was a child).

Toji doesn't think his rules are extreme, but others around him like to think so.

He's not a dick kinda, he just didn't like relationships. Whether that was romantic, or platonic.

They made him too vulnerable, and Toji didn't like let people get too close in fear of them taking advantage of him.

That's why he loved boxing. He didn't have to play on a team, which meant he didn't have to get along with anyone. People feared him, they kissed the floor he walked on—and he got to punch people so it was a win-win.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro was content with living life in solitude.

But his desire for peace and eternal loneliness didn't make him some kind of humble, down to earth man.

No, Toji thrived off praise. He got off on people telling him how much they loved him, how much they worshipped him.

He loved going out in public in broad daylight where everyone could see the amazing Toji Fushiguro, even though Shiu, his manager, told him not to.

He loved the way people would crowd him, asking for pictures and autographs. He loved when girls would pull down the collar of their shirts so he could sign their upper boob and later get it tattooed.

"I'm not a perv," Toji would say defensively.

"But you are..." Shiu would reply, giving him an accusatory look.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro loved attention.

So, you could imagine his surprise when he sees a cute girl at the grocery store, taking time out of his day to come up to you, willfully giving you the God-given opportunity to meet THE Toji Fushiguro, just for you to give him a look of annoyance and walk away.

Come again???

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro was pissed the fuck off.

But, since he's such a good person, he let that one slide and decided to give you a second chance.

"C'mon doll, you really gonna do me like that?" He purrs.

"Do you like what, exactly?" You sigh, not even looking at him, instead continuing to inspect which peaches to buy, afraid they would instantly go bad the moment you walk out the store.

"Playing hard to get?" He takes the peach out of your hand and brings it up to his lips, taking a large bite—making it wayyy more sexual than it needed to be—letting the juice drip down his wrist before bringing his head down and licking it all up.

"Gross, you know how many people touched that?" You say with a look of disgust.

He decided to ignore your comment because 1.) You are progressively bruising his ego with every breath you take, and 2.) He just ate an unwashed peach from the grocery store that may or may not have an undiscovered bacteria on it which may or may not kill him.

"Look, you dont need to act all uninterested to 'impress me'. I'll sign your tits and leave."

Now you were the one pissed off because who does he think he is?

This hot, muscly, meat sack walks in here like he owns the place, tries to flirt with you like some creep, and then has the audacity to offer to sign your tits?

What do you do?

You slap him.

"Who do you even think you are?" You snapped.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro doesn't hit women. His mother always taught him that no matter how angry he got, no matter how much someone pushed him, to never lay his hands on a girl. Because that's the gentlemanly thing to do.

Sure, his mom taught him dozens of other 'gentlemanly' acts. Most of which he threw out the window, stomped on, and set on fire. But that one always stuck.

Except for right now.

Right now, Toji wanted to strangle you because you just slapped him.

Do you even know who he is?

Obviously fucking not because you just asked him, and that pissed Toji off even more.

Also the fact that you just publicly humiliated him, in front of at least 20 people recording, which would then end up on the entire internet for everyone to see 'The Girl Who Slapped Toji Fushiguro, The Most Feared Boxer in All of Japan.'

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say because he's never been in such a situation.

People always shriveled up and hid out of fear when he entered a room. Toji's presence alone makes children scream and hide behind their parents.

But you didn't do that.

You slapped him.

And it kinda turned him on.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro studied your angry expression. The way your eyebrows furrowed, how your nostrils flaired with every heavy breath you took, your anger radiating off of you, making those around you—even Toji—nervous.

His cheek tingled, not because the slap hurt, it was pretty weak in his opinion, but because your hands were so soft and Toji wondered how they would feel caressing his face as he made you fall apart under him.

This feeling you gave him was foreign, and he craved for more.

He craved you.

"Are you single?" He suddenly asks.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro flinches, preparing for another slap from you when he sees your expression go blank. Unreadable.

Getting killed by a pretty girl wouldn't be such a bad way to go out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

A/n: Idk what beef I have with Toji rn but hes kinda an asshole in this AU. I SWEAR THERE WILL BE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT reader is gna change Toji for the better ☺️👍🏼

Series Masterlist

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[2cupids]

riding bf!toji’s thigh in the store’s dressing room.

contains. f!reader, thigh riding, semi public, reader is called pretty/pretty girl, written with a chubby!reader in mind <3 .. mdni (17+).

toji did not plan on spending his thursday like this, and neither does he enjoy it.

you insisted on him coming along to help you buy an outfit for a fourth of july party your friend had invited you to. so he agreed—albeit reluctantly—to let you drag him around. he can never tell your cute ass “no,” even when he desperately wants to.

this unwelcomed little mall trip didn’t come without him still letting his feelings be known though. his usual scowl is deeper, more pronounced, and his eyes narrow whenever you take too long browsing around in different stores.

despite all that, the trip hasn’t been a complete waste in his eyes. he gets to watch you twirl around and show him every piece of clothing you try on, from little denim shorts to tiny skirts as you ask him his opinion on each, to which he gives a dry, one word response.

you could say toji’s been well behaved today for a guy who’s usually handsy with you. that comes to an end when he finally snaps the moment you emerge in a tight, low cut top that shows plenty of cleavage, asking him whether or not the top “makes your boobs look big.”

a lazy grin pulls at the corners of his mouth and he scoffs, slowly rising to his feet, large hands immediately on your waist as he walks you back into the dressing room. a poor girl working in the store folding clothes nearby witnesses the scene and looks horrified. out of the corner of his eye he sees the employee, but he could care less who sees. or whoever hears what he’s got planned for you for that matter.

“makes your tits look fuckin’ great if that’s what you’re askin’.” toji drawls, closing the door behind him and moving to take a seat on the bench, which looks comically small under his large, muscular figure.

you huff out a laugh and cross your arms. “you’re so annoying, that’s not what i asked. i mean.. don’t you think they make my boobs look even bigger?”

toji rolls his eyes, spreading his legs slightly as he continues eyeing you. “i really don’t give a fuck if it does… not like it’s a bad thing anyways.” he says, tilting his head slightly and his smirk returns. “all i know is you still look damn sexy.”

trying to deflect his comment, you end up giving him a playful glare before muttering a quiet, “whatever.” your fingers hook underneath the hem of the shirt to take it off when toji’s calloused hand suddenly reaches for your wrist, stopping you.

“don’t cha think i deserve something, doll? ya know, it’s been torture watching you try on all those different outfits for me.” toji says quiet enough that it's almost a whisper as he tugs you forward to stand in between his legs.

you squint, already knowing he was going to pull some shit like this the moment he got that look in his eye and pushed you back into the changing room. you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your fingers play with the dark strands at the nape of his neck. “mm, not right now. keep it in your pants ‘til we get back home. or least back to the car, toj.”

that earns you a low chuckle, and before you even have time to react, you’re being manhandled as if you weigh nothing and you find yourself straddling one of toji’s thick thighs, his hands move up from your hips, over the softness of your belly, and up to squeeze your breasts, thumbs finding your nipples through the material of the top. “don’t act like you don’t want this too, pretty.” he whispers, lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

you shiver, biting your lower lip, careful not to let a sound slip out. “shut up. there are people around, and–”

toji quickly shuts you up, flexing his thigh underneath you, fingers tweaking your hardening nipples. “didn’t hear ya, baby. say it again?” he smiles.

and like a dummy, you open your mouth again to protest. a silly mistake. his hands snake down to grip your hips to move your body, making you grind down on him. he keeps moving you against him until you finally give in and start moving your hips on your own, whimpers and gasps tumbling from your lips as you ride his thigh.

toji smirks, satisfaction crossing his sharp features. soft locks of hair tickle your skin when he drops his head down to your neck, breath fanning across your skin. “just realized the people outside are getting a free show. a pretty girl making even prettier sounds… next time i’ll charge the bastards.” he laughs and begins pressing hot kisses along your throat.

one hand flies up to cover your mouth, mortified at the thought of strangers hearing you, but toji is a menace. so when he hears your noises get quieter as you attempt to muffle them, he brings his hand down against your backside. the sound of his palm coming down hard against your ass echos throughout the entirety of the dressing room area and a moan accidentally slips out.

toji loves it.

loves seeing you in ways like this and knowing he can always manipulate the situation in his favor. he pulls back, letting his eyes trail over your body and to the growing wet stain on his jeans. his eyes darken every time your breath hitches slightly when your clit rubs against the rough material of his pants through your thin panties and shorts just right.

and he just drinks it all in, his dick twitching and straining in his pants from the sights and sounds. “look at you..”, he mumbles. “look what you do to me.”

the hand covering your mouth is pulled from your face as he guides it over his chest, then down lower until it rests over his dick. you gasp softly and rub him over his jeans, making him swallow down a groan. “shit. keep doing that and i’ll fuck you right here, right now.”

a shaky laugh escapes you and you take your hand off, placing it on his other shoulder for more stability. soon, your hips start to move more frantically against his thigh as you feel yourself starting to get close. toji assists by flexing his thigh more and continuing to run his hands over your soft, full curves. you rest your head in the crook of his neck, breathy sounds spilling from your mouth. your fingers tighten around his shoulders as he whispers filthy things in your ear until a sweet, strangled sound of pleasure slips past your lips.

you slouch against toji’s body, dazed, embarrassed, but most importantly, satisfied. he gives you after a moment to catch your breath and then he helps you out of the top, leaving you alone to go pay for it. he proudly steps out of the room with his head held high, large wet spot on his jeans and all. when you finally muster up the courage to leave, you’re the complete opposite of your boyfriend, your head is hung low to avoid any eyes.

toji’s waiting outside the store for you and it’s only then that you see just how big a mess you made. you freeze, body heating up with embarrassment all over again before you bring your eyes up to meet his in disbelief. “you have to be kidding. don’t tell me you’re keeping those on? walking around like that?!”

toji just raises a brow and grins. “why wouldn’t i? there’s nothing to be ashamed of. this is a trophy, baby.” he says, almost cockily.

he pulls out a pair of sweatpants from the bag and hands them to you. “bought those for you though, figured you’d want some more pants to wear.” then he leans down to whisper, voice sickly sweet. “didn’t buy you any more panties, so just give those ruined ones to me. i’ll keep ‘em safe. promise.”

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Dialogue Tags Aren’t the Problem, Your Dialogue Rhythm Is

friendly reminder that the word “said” did not kill your scene.

you don’t need to replace every line of dialogue with “he rasped” or “she intoned” or “they gasped breathlessly” (please no). your dialogue is not dying because of your tags. it’s dying because the rhythm is off.

👀 let me explain:

✨ what is dialogue rhythm?

it’s the flow of speech between characters. the beats. the pacing. the way words bounce, interrupt, cut off, trail, clash. it’s less about the words themselves and more about the energy they carry.

dialogue rhythm is what makes two people arguing feel like a boxing match, or a confession feel like a car crash. it’s how you keep tension in the room. if your rhythm sucks, no amount of fancy tags is gonna save you.

🔪 signs your dialogue rhythm is off:

every character is speaking in full, polished sentences like it’s a staged play

nobody ever interrupts, stammers, hesitates, or doubles back

the emotional pace stays flat, even in high-stakes scenes

all the action beats are “he nodded” “she smiled” “they looked at her” over and over

you read it out loud and it feels like a middle school skit

👂 here’s how to fix it:

Read your dialogue out loud. Like, actually out loud. if it sounds robotic, it is robotic. listen for places where people would realistically pause, ramble, get cut off, or trail off. insert those beats. add the mess.

Use white space and formatting to control speed. short lines = fast pace. long blocks = slow burn. a line break right before someone says something unhinged? elite move. example: “You really think I’d betray you?” Pause. “You already did.”

Cut 30% of your dialogue. if you can remove the line and nothing breaks, it was filler. chop chop. more silence = more tension. not every reply needs a full answer.

Let action interrupt speech. don’t wait for the character to finish talking before you show what they’re doing. intercut body language or physical actions mid-line. it mimics how people actually talk. like this: “Don’t touch that—” she lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. “—you don’t know what it is.”

Stop overexplaining with tags. you don’t need to say “she shouted angrily” if the line is literally “GET OUT.” trust the line. if the dialogue’s strong, “said” works just fine. if the dialogue’s weak, “murmured” won’t save it.

🛑 but what about dialogue tags?

use them! but treat them like punctuation, not prose. the goal is clarity, not ✨flair✨. you want the reader to know who’s speaking without noticing the machinery.

“Said” is invisible. “Snarled” is a spice. Use spices sparingly.

better yet: mix tags with beats to keep rhythm tight. example:

BAD: “I hate you,” he said angrily. “I hate you,” she snapped back.

BETTER: “I hate you,” he said, jaw clenched. She didn’t even blink. “Good. Then we’re even.”

💡 TL;DR: your scene doesn’t need fancy tags. it needs movement. conflict. silence. interruptions. character-specific tone. you fix that by fixing the rhythm, not the verbs.

go back to your WIP, open your messiest conversation scene, and test it. read it aloud. break it up. cut what drags. add one beat of silence. give someone a half-finished sentence and a reason to storm out.

watch how fast it starts to breathe.

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

🕯️ download the pack & write something cursed:

[danmguido]

On Lovecraftian Horror

Happy Friday!

There you are sitting at your desk, maybe you're working longhand or your fingertips are tapping atop unpressed keys, and BAM! You have an idea that involves a monster that could've oozed its way right out of the Cthulhu Mythos.

Before you begin, pause a moment.

I get it. I like stories of the vast unknowable myself. I grew up playing Mass Effect and I'm particularly fond of the way Jason Pargin was able to nail it in his John Dies At The End series, and in such a way that I cared about the characters and their humors in spite of the overwhelming, multidimensional terrors that hunt them, but that's because I prefer heavily character driven stories and that's a diatribe for another day.

I've read a lot of aspiring fiction in this genre, and my main critique, the most common pitfall I see within cosmic horror, has nothing to do with character, setting, worldbuilding, or language. It has everything to do with writing that which is inherently unknowable, assuming you're trying to follow convention.

In other words: The monster has to be as alien to you as it is to the reader and characters. Forty page character sheets won't work here because at this point your "monster" isn't really a character. Remember, it isn't a being you can intelligently understand, and that's where the horror lives. It's a reckoning force defying nature, physics, and our fundamental understandings of science. Novels like The Three Body Problem by Cixin Lu illustrate this sense of scale and terror through sheer confusion and technological advancement.

Recall that Lovecraft's most popular story, The Call of Cthulhu, is epistolary. It's told through loose fragments, rumors, journal entries, it's never directly handled. Your job isn't to portray a gigantic, globular mass of eyes descending over New York City to deliver it's final judgement on humanity out of a thin blue Thursday afternoon. It should instead be the effect it has on the characters, or maybe second person to the reader itself, a virus in which just speaking or reading the name of your creature puts you at risk of harm.

One other issue I've come across in reading from a litany of fledgling unpublished fictioneers who take a stab at this genre is that it doesn't seem to be understood. The genre strongly echoes condemnation, damnation, the price of obsession, the price of knowledge, the price of ignorance, yes, but also the warning in bland optimism.

"Yeah, I'll just pledge my eternal soul to this unknowable deity 40,000 eons older than me, and then I will wield all the power."

That sounds dumb out of context, doesn't it?

It's not just about feeling earned or not, either. At this point, whether our earthly brother understands this or not, he's simply a vessel unbolting the latches of an old door sealed an unknowable amount of time before he existed. If we haven't been following him, haven't seen his transformation from upstanding citizen with a healthy few indelible and mortal sins to a hunched over, hooded lunatic who hides his deeds away from the very sun he orbits, this often lands flat and assumes stupidity on the part of your audience.

That's what makes this particular brand of horror so difficult, in my opinion. The balance from describing an unknowable, unfathomable monster that shifts through dimensions so as not to be physically described vs. making sure the audience knows that said impossible, indescribable force is destroying your character's mental state. Anyone can write, "I looked at the monster and it's very essence shattered my mind, scrambling it into a dark and forbidden wind, and even now trying to recall it sends shivers down my spine and vomit up my throat". It works. But it's flat without knowing who this character was beforehand. A slick talking lawyer bursting with personality? Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

So:

Before you start make sure

Your main character isn't your deity

Your main character is fleshed out well

Writing/reading is about the only time cosmic horror can work because it blends on disengaged senses. You're not really seeing, smelling, tasting, hearing, touching, but you are feeling. It's why hardly any games work in the genre without over explaining themselves or coming off cheesy, same with certain films in my opinion.

Leverage that.

Leverage Plato's allegory of the cave, your readers have only known shadows.

Make us see more than shapes. If you’re into horror, cosmic dread, or writing craft talk like this, feel free to follow... I post often.

[strawberrynightmere]

Fearless Manager [KPDH x Female Reader]

TW⚠️: canon divergence, reader isn't afraid of Gwi-ma, reader isn't aware of much, chaotic saja boys, etc.

A/n: For some reason, some of you asked me to tag you in this. Also, this is gonna be in parts

🌸Tags: @gremlinartstudio @chaos-inperson @alys-oli @rory1939

You stood still, processing your surroundings. You aren't by the vending machine anymore, yet that bill in your hand gets folded as you put it back in your pocket. Multiple eyes on your back, but you only concentrate on the dark part where no one was.

A frustrated deep sigh leaves you before you turn to the purple-magenta flames. "This could've been a phone call, I gave you a phone for a reason." And there it is again, multiple eyes on you, whether it was out of fear or amusement with how you address their master.

The bunch of flames coughs and tries to change the subject. "I have summoned you here to take on that favor." But tired little ol' you didn't let go. "And this couldn't be a phone call because?" And the ancient lord still avoided your question.

"I need you to take on the job as a manager."

"If you're having trouble Jelly can help, he knows how to use a phone."

"Enough about the phone! I need you to manage a demon boy band."

That's when you look to your left and see five demons dressed the same, you look at them individually and then turn back to Gwi-ma.

"I'm not saying that I won't, but what's the plan," You stop to motion to the demons on your left, "here."

"They play as a K-pop group in the human realm and I get souls fed to me."

"That checks it. Alright, why not." Unbeknownst to you, those demons were staring at you in bewilderment over how casually you were speaking to Gwi-ma. Any other human would be trembling in fear before having their soul taken away, and any demon would be destroyed by him in an instant, and yet here you are, alive and well.

Jinu studies you intently. You are just a regular human, however, Gwi-ma lets you talk to him like you were on equal ground. His starting didn't go unnoticed as you glanced at him before continuing your conversation.

Interesting.

He found you interesting.

You got transported back to your apartment with the five demons. A moment of awkward silence passes before you decide to speak. "You guys can make yourselves comfortable. I just need to go do something quickly." You say walking out the door, but you stop. "And if you break something, you have to pay for it."

Cut to Mystery, holding a fragile object before setting it down.

And then you run back to the vending machine you were at earlier.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Yes! It's still here." You exclaimed, taking the folded bill from your pocket and inserting it in the vending machine, pressed some buttons and watched the machine threw down the last candy bar.

"Yes."

As you are about to take out the candy bar, an invisible force shakes the air and evening in it's reach.

"The heck?" The force had pushed you onto your back and turned off the light from the machine. From what you could tell, it came from... up there. You're not sure what up there is, it's dark. You grab the candy bar and climb up whatever there is.

When you get on top you see a girl around your age with a thick long braid that reminds you of a scorpion, she was clutching her arms that were littered with familiar marks.

"Excuse me! Miss demon?" That seems to get her attention. You continued. "Whatever you're going through just caused a small outage."

The girl was now freaking out, trying to think of something to say.

"Is everything okay?" You ask.

"How do... how do you..." She tries to ask a question you already figured out.

"Well... I tend to know things... and more things."

A moment of silence passed between you and then you spoke again. "Whatever it is, it's most likely not from the marks."

"What?"

"Well at the top of my head... something you bottled up?" She didn't confirm nor deny it but from the looks of it, you might've hit the hammer on the head.

You sit down and with a flat hand tap on a spot next to you and the girl cautiously sits next to you. The city lights at night were always a sight to see.

You handed her the candy bar. "Sweet to calm your nerves." You might regret it, but then again you can always go to a store and buy this candy.

"Uhh..."

"It's gonna melt." You say in a sing-a-song way, you decided to be generous, and you probably won't see her ever again. In the end she did take it.

"Anyway, talk to your loved ones, don't bottle things up, be kind to yourself... and... enjoy life? I dunno... let's get down. I need to go and you need to go home too."

You two ended up parting ways with you saying "Bye whatever your name is." Which left her confused. You wonder why.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once you came back, you saw those five demons poking at your TV. You cough to get their attention, and you got it. You gestured to them to take a seat, which they did. You stood in front of them.

"I guess introductions are up for grabs. Alright!" You clapped your hands together. How you hated doing introductions. "I don't know if the old man said anything about me, but... hi, I'm [Name], and I'm gonna be your manager." You try to sound enthusiastic.

'Old man?!' The demons though in unison.

One of them decided to speak up. "Uh, I'm Abby." Abby? Were his parents expecting a girl before he was born? "And I work in choreography." That's neat.

A demon with good hair then spoke overconfidently. "I'm Romance, and I'm the group's heartthrob." Wait, that's not an actual name. Whatever, the less that you know about them the better.

A demon with mop hair introduced himself. "Mystery." Short and descriptive enough, you might like this guy.

A baby-faced demon spoke, rather uninterested. "I'm Baby, and I'm the rapper." Wow, his voice didn't match his face, also you just realized that their names correlate with the stereotypes they will be playing.

"What's with that face?" Baby asked, eyeing you with some judgment. Shoot, you were unintentionally cringing. "Nothing! Sorry!" You apologized wanting to quickly move on. You're almost afraid of what the last guy is gonna say.

"I'm Jinu and I'm the leader of the group." You sighed in relief. Finally, someone normal.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

You try to change the subject. "Anyway, you guys probably planned this before pitching it. So what's the group's name?" There was no answer, but a flyer appeared in you hands.

SAJA BOYS

That seems fitting for them.

"And I can assume that everything was set up a while ago?"

"You assume correctly." Jinu answered. Grate! You're not sure why the old man wanted you to manage them, they seem capable to do things themselves.

Right then, Baby shoved Abby off the couch and a fight broke out with Mystery jumping in, barking for some reason.

That must be why.

"Not again." Jinu sounded exhausted. The fight rolled behind the couch. You went to the kitchen. "You just scared our new manager on her first day." Romance provoked them which ended up with three of them dragging him behind the couch. Jinu just rubbed his temples.

You come back and set a glass of water in front of him and offer him a pill. "Ibuprofen, for headaches." You're not sure if make things better, but it was worth a shot. Jinu takes it from your hand and downs it with the water.

"Good, now cover your ears." He reluctantly did what you said. You pull out a plastic container containing some rocks and go behind the couch. Soon enough, an unholy rattling noise separates the four demons.

This might be way more work than you initially thought.

"It's late for whatever this is. I'll pull out the sleeping bags... and talk to you tomorrow."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day arrives and the guys get their human forms ready and you examine them.

"Y'all look like an ice cream store exploded, which is fitting for what you are going for." You stated.

They didn't know if that was a compliment.

"Alright, Jelly came by earlier and helped set the flyers and all that jazz. All you have to do is show up on time and do your jig and then announce you'll be participating in that show... whatever its name is. Are you guys listening?

It didn't seem like it, since aside from Jinu, they all were occupied with something; Baby was using a tablet, Romance was fixing his hair, Mystery was growling at the mirror, and Abby was flexing.

As you were about to continue, the buttons from Abby's shirt flew off. Luckily, you ducked in time, but they ended up braking your window.

"I want that fixed when I'm back." You say before walking out the door.

Yep. These boys are gonna be a workload.

A/n: that's it for part one!

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ NO BEDTIME TONIGHT ! yan! octavinelle / gn! reader

ramshackle's finally turned into a heap of rubble. you saw that one coming a long time ago. what you didn't see is the harem of unsavory magicians trying to keep you confined within their dorms. (<- prev )

TW ! choking, bruising, biting, violence, strangling (YES ITS THE EELS) suggestive themes, implied drugging, subtle n*nconsensual somnophilia

You’ve nearly had it. Savanaclaw isn’t a place where you can feel safe— Grim, your only solace of familiarity, won’t sleep with you because of the beastmen and said beastmen keep getting pummeled because they thought it was a good idea to comment on how fuckable you are in front of Jack. Ruggie and Leona don’t even seem to care about keeping their junior in check, maybe even approving of it. 

How can anyone blame you for being normal and wanting not to be the cause of a dozen students’ broken noses? You need to escape, fast. 

You’ve long told Headmaster Crowley about your broken-down Ramshackle, but in headmaster fashion, he seems to be taking his sweet time fixing it. No doubt he’s forgotten about it as he’s frolicking about somewhere. Maybe you can ask the staff to let you sleep in a janitor's closet or the infirmary. Sevens, is this gonna be your life from now on?

“Hmm~? Shrimpie, I heard you’re gettin’ desperate these days~” The last person you want to see regarding your living accommodations is towering over you, mismatched eyes glinting with sick glee as he leers at you. Floyd’s sharp teeth straighten into a mischievous smile, lanky hands grabbing your shoulders. “Why don’t you come to Octavinelle? We ain’t nothin’ but hospitable~”

In Heartslabyul, you were lulled into a sense of comfort because they were your close friends. In Savanaclaw, you were happy at first because Jack is one of the most decent people you know. As soon as you step foot on Octavinelle territory, you know that you were fucked right from the get-go. Scheming businessmen, sadistic twins… You couldn’t get out of this no matter how hard you tried.

FLOYD LEECH seems amused at your darting eyes and frightened look… but also equally displeased at your seemingly resigned state. Clearly, he wanted something more alive to play with. You juggled over whether or not to amuse him by fighting back or to potentially earn a tantrum by staying still and waiting for the right opportunity. Knowing that both types of Floyd were equally as bad, you decided to opt for the one that required less energy.

“C’mon, shrimpy, do something~” He’s poking your cheek as you lay blankly on his bed. He doesn’t share a room with anyone, which checks out because you doubt anyone would want to share a room with this crazy. “You’re boring me here!”

You hold up two fingers in his face. “If I do anything, you’ll either: one, amuse yourself by forcing me to do more through violent means and force.” You put down one finger. “Or two, you’ll squeeze the shit out of me till I lay here dead.” You put down your hand entirely. “Well, tough luck. I don’t like any outcome, so I’m gonna stay still until you get fed and either leave me alone or maul me.”

The lanky eel, kneeling at the side of his bed, pouts as he lays his cheek beside your face. “That’s no fun~ Am I that predictable?”

Predictable in the way that Floyd will always do something disastrous, no matter what happens. Unpredictable in the way that you never know what he’ll end up doing. You flip your head to the side, sulky mismatched eyes and a handsome face just inches away from you… And you sigh. God, these evil suckers just had to be handsome. You pinch his cheek and sit up. “Don’t worry,” you say, drily. “I never know what’s going on in that head of yours. Never did, never will.”

Floyd’s face brightens up, moods as ever-changing as the ocean waters. “Aww, ya flatter me, shrimpy!” He grins as he tackles you to his bed. Ack. You feel like he dug something into your ribs. “Me, I liiike always knowing what’s on your mind. Your face is so cute and expressive! Like when your eyes keep shaking whenever you’re scared, or that stupid-looking smile when you try to lie, or the way your mouth gapes whenever you’re tired! I could stare at you for hours!”

What the… Oh, whatever. “No commentary on the way I smile when happy or something?” You don’t even know why you care anymore.

Floyd stares at you as if you just asked something foreign. “Well, I think your smile’s stupid. Stupid and cute. But—” His mouth slits into a smile of razor-sharp teeth. “I think you’re squishiest when you’re shakin’ in your boots, yeah?”

Staring into a mouth full of teeth that could chomp your flesh off, you gulp down a whimper. Floyd’s grin stretches even more. “Yeah, yeah, like that! I like the way ya try to be a~ll strong and brave when everyone knows how scared ya are. Like how your throat bobs cuz ya got a scream stuck there or something.” His cold, cold hands— gentle at first, then an inescapable pressure as his thumb digs into your throat— clamp themselves around you. His eyes widen as he watches you scramble to pull his hands off you and laughs maniacally. “Yes, like that! Ah~ I don’t get it! How’s someone so pathetic this adorable to look at!”

His expression drops into downright threatening. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Shit, his choke has you seeing stars already. “F–Floyd,” you gasp out, scratching at his arms futilely. “Stop this— I— Kkgh— It isn’t funn—!”

“I’ll tell ya what isn’t funny!” His voice is screeching, eyes looking down at you in… hatred? Glee? Annoyance? Obsession? Fuck, you just want his hands off you. “Who the hell do you think you are, running around in my head like that? Little magicless shrimpy who’s got nothing but a cute face on ‘em! Smilin’ at me like that… makin’ friends with Azul and Jade like it’s sooo easy! You’re makin’ em boring!” He bares his teeth at you. “You’re controlling me!”

How the fuck was that your problem?! You feel your strength failing you. You can’t breathe. Darkness was clouding your vision. You were really gonna fucking die here. You want to go home. You want to go home. You want to go—

He lets go, and you take in a frantic breath as he sits back with an amused expression. “Haha, you’re cute when you’re all gasping like that.”

You glare at him, but you feel that it comes off weakly. Your mind is dazed after being deprived of oxygen, and you feel faint. He laughs even more, a cross between amusement and being… genuine.

“Seven,” he whispers, staring at you like a treasure found on the sea floor. “I really do like starin’ at ya.”

If JADE LEECH had anything to say about the purpling bruises on your neck, he didn’t say it. Rather, he opted to smile at you with his usual slimy grin and poured you a cup of morning coffee, playing the part of the attentive gentleman. His brute of a brother walked right behind you, yawning and sporting a grumpy frown and disheveled hair. 

“Did you have a good night’s rest?” Jade asks, sitting across from you on one of Octavinelle’s dining tables. He’s already dressed in his school uniform despite it being too early in the morning. Ugh. You return his smile, passive-aggressive and barely holding back ire. You’re wearing one of Floyd’s tanks, so you know he can see it. He chuckles, sharp teeth glinting as he lifts his cup of coffee. “Well, apologies for my brother. You know how he is sometimes.”

This isn’t something to just apologize for, you think, but rather a lawsuit and a restraining order. But you doubt any lawyer would be willing to represent you, the magicless alien with not even a single official document on them. You decide to grace his remark with a scoff into your coffee cup. 

“Now, now, let’s not be like this,” Jade pouts. He feigns sadness as he regards your surly demeanor. “We are friends, aren’t we? You know it hurts me to see you be so cold to me.” You level him with an unimpressed stare, and he raises both hands as if to show innocence. “It’s true! Please look back on the times we had together. Saving Azul… breaking you out of Scarabia… defeating Jamil… Why, I thought we were best friends!”

You have to admit, it’s a bit humorous to see Jade act so pitifully, even though you weren’t falling for it. You crack an amused smile, leaning back on your chair as you take another sip. “Mm, yes. Making a deal to release 300 students from slavery… kicking me out of Ramshackle… nearly drowning me on multiple occasions…”

Jade gives up the act, returning to his intimidating smile when he knows you’re not falling for the act. “Why, they say you’re not truly friends if you don’t tease each other.” You snort again.

The two of you fall into a… not-so-comfortable silence. Not-so-comfortable in the way that he’s been staring intensely at the welt around your neck. After a few uneasy minutes, he stands up and walks away. He returns with a salve pot in his hands. “May I?” He asks, fingers already flitting across your neck. His touch is as ice-cold as his brother’s— probably thanks to their cold-blooded biology— and makes you shudder all the same. You offer a meek nod and bare your neck to him.

Jade’s smile stretches as you place yourself in the most vulnerable position possible.

He rubs the salve on your bruises, gentle and tender, all while thinking how you’re still the naive fool you were from the start of the year. By now, you should know not to show too much weakness to them, to him. Yet here you are, offering up your neck like he wasn’t capable of digging into that warm flesh and watching the light leave your eyes without remorse. Two fingers press against the pulse on your neck— one, two, one, two. A sign that you were alive and warm. You crane your neck to frown at him. He chuckles and backs down from the knowing glint in your glare.

“If Floyd bothers you that much, you can always sleep over mine tonight,” he coos. “I imagine it’d be a more comfortable rest. Perhaps more comfortable than that… Heartslabyul vice-leader.” “Trey?” Jade hears the self-mocking in your voice. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Why, didn’t you know? Your sleepovers are the hottest scandals of Night Raven College right now!” He pleasures in the way your ears burn. If he’d nibble on that soft shell, would it be weak enough to break and bleed? “That man… couldn’t stop smiling when I chanced upon him in the greenhouse and pressed him for details. Irritating smile, that one, but I confess it had made me a tad curious as to what exactly transpired.”

He bends his face to grin down at you. “Would you care to reenact the details of that night?”

“W– We did nothing!” You yelp, pushing away that mischievous face. “Just slept in the same bed, that’s all!”

“Hmm, are you sure that’s everything?” Jade hums, circling you to face him. He tidies your hair, untangling the morning knots here and there while observing your face. “He did slip something about your soft, warm tongue… pressed against his fingers… opening up prettily for him…”

Jade’s glee heightens when your blush deepens even further. There was no need for him to use his unique magic to deduce that this was the truth. “He told you that?!”

“Nope!” He laughs a bit when he hears your frustrated groan, tricked and betrayed. “I was merely guessing what that pervert might have done to you. No need to fear, dear. Should you sleep with me tonight, you would not suffer like that?”

You stare at him incredulously. “Really?” Sevens, you really know him, don’t you?

“Of course not.” He twirls a strand of your hair around a finger, kissing it gently and peering down at you. You swear that his one golden eye shines under the fluorescent lighting. “Unlike him, my perversions lie somewhere… bloodier.”

Like hell you were gonna sleep with Jade after that! … Is what you told yourself. Unfortunately, being the target of a Leech sibling’s affection means there is no way to squeeze yourself out of that situation. AZUL ASHENGROTTO seems to know that much, because even with the huge scowl on his face as he observes your bruised neck and the bite marks on your collar, he can’t seem to blame you. He’s cooking up a healing potion that could at least lessen the severity of these ugly marks. You had joked about never being able to pay back that potion, and he sighed and said it would be on the house… after all, it was his members’ fault.

“What a surprise,” you laugh as he offers the potion to you. Azul looks absolutely distraught by your mangled neck. “Didn’t think I’d get something for free from you.”

The octo merman huffs at you. “I’ve given you lots of things over the months, haven’t I?!”

It’s been a while since the two of you were alone together, but you remember how fun it is to tease him. Outside, Azul could be pompous and condescending— he has an image to retain. But now alone in his bedroom, it seems that Azul has decided to forgo the facade and be his normal, pouty self. “Honestly,” he sighs, willing the used cauldron and other supplies to fly out of the room. “I do a lot of things for you that I wouldn’t do for anyone else, don’t I? And for free too!” You squint at him. “Most of the time.” You squint harder, and he throws his hands in the air. “Sometimes! Sometimes is already too much— I’m enterprising here!”

You smirk and chug the potion down. Slightly sweet and bubbly, not unlike a soda. “Thanks so much, dorm leader,” you coo. “To be on the receiving end of the Octavinelle head’s generosity, you truly embody the illustrious Sea Witch’s benevolence.” He takes the bottle away from you, miffed, but you smile at the red coloring on his ear tips. What a cutie.

He sighs. “Jade and Floyd… They’ve always been violent, but something about you makes it worse. Floyd’s strangled a few people here and there, yes… But Jade’s always managed to hold himself back.” He brushes a careful finger over your wounds and sighs when you wince. “Sevens, they outright mangled you. The potion will take effect in a few minutes, don’t worry.”

“I get that it’s in their biology to be violent, but really! Making trouble for me…” He continues to rant. A scheming smile spreads across his face. “Why, if you insist on pressing charges, I’d be happy to write up a contract for you. Nothing too charging, of course! Though the same can’t be said for them once we present our — ahem, your clauses.”

“No one’s pressing anything, Azul,” you laugh, resting your cheek on your hand while Azul paces his room. “It’s, well, it’s not nothing… but I’d rather not get myself into any more trouble. If the rumors are true, then I’d rather not have any conflict with the Leech family.”

“Hmph, too kind!” He turns around and wags a finger in your face. “This is why it’s so easy to take advantage of you. Even things like this, you’re willing to let go! Have you not learned a single thing during your time here in NRC? You’re lucky that you have me to cover up for you!”

“Yes, yes,” you hum. “Ve~ry lucky.”

Azul smiles— less pompous and more satisfied— and straightens his back. Heh. “Exactly! After all, I am benevolent. Worry not, your rest with me will be the most peaceful you’ve had in days!”

He can hardly believe his luck. Wait, no, this isn’t luck. Everything good that has happened to Azul’s life is because he worked hard for it, and Sevens, did he work for this. You, vulnerable in your state of sleep, sprawled across his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. From the state of your eyebags, he guessed that you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep with either Floyd or Jade, but with him… Heh, the twins might not view it that way, but this was a win for Azul.

Gently as not to stir you, Azul reaches out and brushes his hand against your cheek. It’s warm, like rays of sun on his cold skin. As soon as he saw you in that fateful entrance ceremony, he thought you really weren’t NRC material. When you sidled up to him in the underwater museum and had a conversation about his past, like he didn’t try to kill you and your friends, he knew you weren’t made for this school. Not when you were too good for him. Not when you stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, gazing at that horrid field trip picture and granting an unjudging ear to his monologue.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Aaah… No one deserves you. Not me, not anyone. But aaah…” He cozies up in the crook of your neck, relishing in that soft warmth. “The things I would do to keep you down in the waters with me. I’d do anything for you, buy anything for you… just to be mine and mine alone.”

“Mine, be mine…” His begging comes off in short whines, pleading to your unconscious body. “I couldn’t bear it… to see you frolicking around with some idiot that isn’t me…”

Something slithers around your leg, sticking to it like a parasite on an easy prey. It suckles softly, while its owner cradles you with his many legs as he relishes in his most prized treasure’s body. You shift a bit, eyes furrowing as if your unconscious mind was telling you that something was off. Sleep wasn’t supposed to carry the weight of another person, and rest should not be disturbed by tentacles gently suckling on your skin.

Azul wonders what would happen if you’d wake— not that you would, he made sure of that. He wonders if your eyes would widen, heart stuck in your throat, face frozen in that fearful expression that the twins love to praise. His heart drops. No, he’d rather see you gently smile at him. He’d rather you return his myriad of desperate kisses and stroke his hair, call him pretty despite all the insecurities.

He brushes his lips against yours— not quite a kiss, but enough to make him crave more. You truly make him pathetic.

Floyd Leech changed Azul Ashengrotto’s nickname to ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Heh. Now what could have possibly caused this tantrum now?

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Now, now, Azul. As your closest friends, it’s not nice to play dumb around us. 

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Ugh. It’s weird when you say that. And I don’t like your tone.

You (Floyd Leech): WHAT DID U DO TO MY BRUISES ON SHRIMPY. WHERE ARE THEY.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): It has also occurred to me that my bite marks are gone. What a shame… The mementos of our beautiful night together gone because of a scheming octopus.

You (Floyd Leech): IM GONNA FGUCKING STUFF YOU IN UR OCTO POT U STUPID OCTO AND ILL STUFF U FULL OF UR STUPID POTIONS TILL U TURN BACK ROUND AND NICE TO EAT THEN TURN U INTO TAKOYAKI AND FEED U TO SHRIMPY

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Floyd, please. Let us not feed this stupid octopus to our pitiful prefect.

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): … I don’t appreciate the comments on my body.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Mm. Pity. Floyd and I are looking over octopus recipes. Personally, I’d prefer to place you on a sushi platter.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Perhaps we will start off by cutting those insipid tentacles of yours. For erasing our marks and placing your own.

You (Floyd Leech): it was kinda hot tho

You (Floyd Leech): back of the thigh. erotic doncha think

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Why, then you’ll be pleased to see the marks on their back, Floyd.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Oh my. I don’t think mother and father would be pleased to know that Floyd has broken yet another phone.

[angrythingstarlight]

Has Bee called Steve to wish him a happy birthday?

She was going to call him but before she could, Steve showed up.

"Of course I had to see my favorite goddaughter on my birthday," he explains when he steps into her office.

Bee is ecstatic.

"Happy birfday!" She runs across the room, he crouches down, arms open. She slams into his chest with a small oof.

Steve's birthday celebrations usually revolve around partying at one of his clubs with his boys, getting drunk and hooking up with some woman he's not going to call in the morning.

If you had told Steve that in a few years, the best part of his birthday would be spent sitting in a tiny pink chair across from a toddler and her stuffed dino while she tells him all about her day, he never would've believed you.

But now, he can admit he's envious of the life his best friend has created.

Makes him yearn for something he's never had.

"I mades you a 'pecial gift," she says, pointing at the box on her desk.

As Steve opens the present, he thinks about all the luxury gifts he has waiting for him at his club. Somewhere along the line his birthday turned into a networking event with people trying to buy a few minutes of his time when they think his guard is down.

There's not a lot of genuine people in his world so he cherishes the ones he trusts.

And at the end of the days he's still that kid from Brooklyn who appreciates the little things in life.

"What did you make me?" Steve asks, holding up the box, testing its weight in his hands. Light. Quiet.

Bee shakes her head. "I can tells you Uncle Steve. You gotta opens it."

"Is it broccoli?" Steve teases.

Bee gasps, her eyes widening. She would never. "Is not bucki. It's a picture I mades for you."

A smile pulls at his lips. It's not a birthday unless you get Bee to spill a secret or two.

Steve opens the box, his smile growing when he sees the picture she made him. "I love it, Bee. Thank you."

"You welcomes." She beams, bouncing on her heels. "We gots you more 'prises too Uncle Steve. Papa says I not 'posed to tells you." She shrugs, staring up at him. Her face slowly dropping under the weight of her secrets

There's a beat of silence.

"You want to tell me, don't you?"

She nods. She really does. Bee can only keep so many secrets at one time.

Steve lifts her up, hoisting her on his shoulder. "You can tell me. You know why? Because your papa doesn't tell us what to do Bumblebee."

"Excuse me?" Bucky says, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the open door. "Since when?"

Steve grabs his picture and strolls out of the room with Bee. "Since she was born. You and I both know it's Bee world and we're just living in it."

"And Mr. Tato's."

"He owes me a watch."

"I sorry but he says no."

Bucky follows behind his best friend and baby, shaking his head as he listens to them argue over whether or not Steve is getting his watch back. He's not. Not unless he wants to fight a dino enforcer.

He tricked Bee into telling him what every gift was before he opened it. It was hard to say who had more fun.

Steve doesn't leave until late. He won't say he was reluctant to go. But it was apparent in the way he lingered at the door.

And as he headed to his club to finish his birthday celebrations, he wondered would his life would be like if he had his own wife and child to celebrate with.

[jimtheviking]

Listen to me.

Listen to me.

You cannot do this. You absolutely, positively, cannot do this and not be miserable.

If you are working full-time, you are spending at least half of your waking life with these people. You have to get to know them, and you cannot be anti-social towards them. They do not have to be your best friends, they do not have to be your friends outside of work or even people who you spend time with outside of work, but you have to interact with your co-workers. They may not have identical interests to you, but that is fine. They may not have Perfect Politics or be particularly aware of world events or history, but they are your community, whether you like it or not.

You have common ground with them - hating your job and hating your boss and hating that dipshit manager on the other team are universal experiences which you can build a relationship from - and just being polite and chatting with them while you are at work will make your life much less miserable while you are at work.

Because then you will only hate your job (which is Good and Right) and not hate your job and your co-workers (which is a pathway to utter misery.)

You have to make an effort. You do. It may suck, but if you do not, it will be so much worse for you, and isolating yourself is not the way.

[sereia4skz]

Hey hey can you make something hurt to comfort with chan plss?? Like yn and chan get into a tiny argument maybe just a misunderstanding going on not a big fight but some broken hearts but at the happy ending🥹🤝🏻😭🫰🙏🏻

oneshot | don't walk away

pairing: chan x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: mild argument? chan being busy

word count: 1.1k

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

It starts with a quiet kind of disappointment. The kind that builds slowly, unnoticed at first, like a draft slipping under the door. You don’t even realize how tightly your chest’s been wound until the key turns in the lock.

He’s home. You’re still on the couch, dinner long cold on the table, your phone lying silent beside you. You’d checked it too many times. The battery’s nearly dead from all the hope you kept feeding into it.

Chan steps in, looking exhausted, hoodie pulled up, eyes slightly red. His studio bag sags off one shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly.

You look up. “Hey.”

It’s all you say.

He toes off his shoes, glancing at the couch. “You didn’t eat?”

You shake your head. “Didn’t feel like it.”

A beat passes. He blinks, takes in the untouched meal, the candle you’d lit two hours ago, now a pool of hardened wax. Realization creeps across his features, slow and unwelcome.

“Shit,” he breathes. “Baby, I’m sorry. I lost track of-”

“Of time,” you finish. “Yeah. I figured.”

Your tone isn’t harsh, but it’s not warm either. It lands somewhere in the middle, brittle and tired, and Chan flinches before he can catch himself.

“I should’ve texted,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to leave you waiting. Everything ran over and I just-”

“I get it,” you cut in. “Work happened. It always does.”

That hurts him. You see it. You didn’t mean it like that, not really but it’s been weeks of this: missed dinners, short calls, canceled plans. You’ve smiled through most of it, understanding as best you can, but tonight… you cracked a little.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you add, softer now. “I just- I made dinner. I was excited to see you. And then I waited. And waited. And it just… I don’t know. It felt stupid after a while.”

Chan sets down his bag and walks closer. Not too close. He’s reading you carefully, like he knows one wrong step might send the whole night spiraling.

“I never want to make you feel like you’re waiting alone,” he says. His voice is steady, but his eyes shine with something tender, or maybe guilty.

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” you murmur. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

He exhales and sits beside you slowly, his hands clasped between his knees.

“I’ve been messing up,” he says quietly. “I’ve been running around thinking I can juggle everything, the group, the deadlines, and… us. And I thought if I could just keep pushing through, eventually I’d have time for everything. For you.”

You look down at your lap. “I don’t want to be the afterthought that gets your leftover time, Chan.”

He flinches again, visibly this time. “You’re not. God, Baby, you're the part I miss most. The part I feel most guilty about when I mess this up.”

Tears sting your eyes before you can stop them.

“I was staring at my phone like some idiot,” you whisper. “Kept telling myself you’d text. That I mattered enough for you to think of me.”

“You do,” he says instantly, but there’s panic now, like your sadness is suffocating him. “You do. I just… I got so in my head tonight. I felt like I couldn’t stop working or I’d lose momentum. But I lost you instead. At least for tonight.”

“You didn’t lose me,” you whisper, even though the words burn. “I just needed to feel seen. Like I’m still a real part of your life, not a calendar event you keep pushing back.”

That’s when Chan cracks. He doesn’t sob. He doesn’t even make a sound. But his eyes fill, and his hand reaches up like he doesn’t know what to do with it, whether to wipe his face or reach for yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and now his voice is trembling. “I hate that I made you feel like that. You’re my home, Baby. I’ve been running around trying to keep everything afloat, and I forgot that none of it means anything if I don’t have you to come back to.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m not trying to make you feel worse. I just- I needed you tonight.”

“I know. And I wasn’t here. Not in the way I should’ve been.”

You both fall quiet. The air between you is thick, not with anger, but with heartbreak. Like you both want to reach for each other, but you're afraid the hurt still lingers on your skin.

But then Chan shifts forward. He reaches out, cautiously, and takes your hand in his. His thumb strokes your knuckles, soft and tentative.

“Can I… hold you?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, you nod, and then you’re in his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline. The tears come harder now, yours hot and breathy, his quiet and broken against your temple.

“I hate crying,” you whisper against his shoulder.

Chan huffs a soft, wet laugh. “Me too.”

“You’re really bad at texting.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I’ll get better. I promise. Just… don’t give up on me.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. His face is flushed, eyes red-rimmed, but even now, he’s still looking at you like you’re everything.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say. “I just want us to do better. Together.”

“We will,” he says immediately. “Starting now. I’m going to be better, not just for you, but with you.”

You nod, and for a moment, the world feels quiet again.

Then, in a much smaller voice: “I reheated the rice like three times.”

He lets out a real laugh this time, and you feel it vibrate through his chest.

“I’ll eat it cold,” he says. “I deserve cold rice.”

You swat at his chest weakly, laughing through your tears. “You’re dramatic.”

“I’m in love,” he says simply. “It comes with the territory.”

Your heart swells painfully, and you kiss his cheek, the bridge of his nose, his eyelids, all the places his tears had touched. He kisses you too, soft, slow, apologetic. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just… real.

That night, you eat together at the table. The rice is awful. The chicken’s dry. But the air between you is warm again. Softened. Mended.

Later, in bed, he tangles around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His thumb traces circles on your hip. His breath ghosts across the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna set reminders,” he mumbles sleepily. “Daily check-ins. Morning voice notes. Alarms that say ‘Text her, you idiot.’”

You laugh quietly. “You don’t have to set alarms to love me.”

“No,” he murmurs, “but I’ll do anything to make sure you feel it. Every day.”

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, still a little raw, still a little tender, but whole again.

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple @sunfk88 @sillyseob @rougegenshin @yaorzu-blog

[sevarchive]

♡ i fork, therefore i am ──

synopsis: in which itoshi rin becomes an english teacher for blue lock and immediately regrets every life decision that led him to this exact moment. starring: itoshi rin, bachira meguru, isagi yoichi, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, gagamaru gin

a/n: this was supposed to be a simple english lesson. good luck. bring snacks. and maybe a fire extinguisher ^^

LESSON 0: INTRODUCTIONS

“alright,” rin muttered, arms crossed, already ten seconds away from quitting.

then, in careful, crisp english, he asked: “let’s start simple. what english words do you already know?”

he should’ve known better. immediately, bachira threw his hand into the air like he was summoning lightning.

“boobies!”

rin didn’t blink. “sit down.”

barou grunted next. “dominate.”

“…of course you do.”

chigiri leaned back, twirling his hair. “slay.”

rin blinked. “that’s slang, not vocabulary. sit down, tiktok.”

from somewhere under a hoodie, nagi mumbled, “nap.”

“that’s not english. that’s your entire personality.”

isagi sat up straighter, eyes gleaming with misguided pride. “i know ‘devour.’”

rin turned to him slowly. “why.”

“i say it every morning in the mirror.”

“…right. so none of you know normal words. like hello. or apple.”

barou scoffed. “why would i say apple when i can say obliterate?”

“because apple won’t get you arrested.”

he dragged a hand down his face. “alright. gagamaru?”

gagamaru blinked and sat up like a soldier reporting for duty. everyone turned. for a brief, foolish moment, rin believed.

then gagamaru spoke. “alright. let’s start simple. what english words do you already know?”

rin froze.

“…did you just repeat my question?”

gagamaru nodded. “c’mon. technically it’s english.”

“you just said exactly what i said.”

“exactly,” gagamaru beamed.

“that’s not an answer—”

“still english, though.”

he gave rin a proud thumbs-up.

rin turned to stare at the corner of the room like he was considering walking into it and never turning around.

LESSON 1: VERBS

rin picked up the marker with a scowl and one visible vein pulsing in his forehead, he scrawled across the board in massive, angry letters:

verb = action word.

“a verb is something you do. like… ‘run.’ or ‘eat.’ got it?”

“for example,” rin gritted out. “i kick the ball. that’s a verb. kick. easy.”

he pointed the marker at them like a threat. “you. give me a verb.”

bachira flung his hand into the air. “i bounce!”

rin blinked. “…that’s… actually correct.”

“i bounce toward danger!”

“there it is.”

barou crossed his arms. “i dominate.”

rin sighed. “you’ve said that in response to literally everything.”

“because it’s always true.”

chigiri leaned back. “zoom.”

“that’s not a verb.”

“i zoom all the time.”

“you’re not a racecar!”

isagi raised a finger. “i overthink.”

rin groaned. “congratulations. that’s finally a real verb. and also a cry for help.”

“i overthought whether to say that, actually.”

nagi mumbled into his sleeve, “i run.”

rin perked up slightly. “hey. finally. a normal verb.”

nagi didn’t look up. “yeah. i wanna run.”

rin nodded. “good. that’s the spirit.”

then nagi added, deadpan, “run away from this boring-ass class and never come back.”

the room went completely silent.

bachira leaned forward. “wait. that actually sounds amazing.”

chigiri nodded. “if we sprint now, he can’t catch all of us.”

isagi whispered, “there’s an emergency exit behind the gym.”

barou cracked his knuckles. “i’ll punch the fire alarm.”

then gagamaru, “i’ll eat the evidence.”

rin snapped the whiteboard marker in half like it was a glowstick of rage.

“SIT. DOWN. ALL OF YOU.”

they froze. chigiri muttered, “damn, okay, drill sergeant…”

rin turned slowly to gagamaru. “please. don’t repeat what i said again.”

gagamaru sat up like he was about to be deployed. “i won’t.”

rin narrowed his eyes. “then what’s a verb?”

gagamaru paused. the entire class could see the loading wheel spinning in his head.

then, with full, unshakable confidence, he said: “fork.”

rin blinked. “…fork?”

gagamaru nodded solemnly. “i fork.”

“you—what does that even mean?”

“like, when i use a fork. i fork.”

rin just stared. “that’s not—no. that’s not how that works.”

“but it’s an action. i’m forking.”

“please stop saying forking.”

“i fork all the time.”

“stop.”

gagamaru leaned back, completely unbothered. “you asked for an action. i provided.”

“that’s not a verb, that’s a cry for educational reform.”

“fork,” gagamaru whispered again, like it meant something.

rin dropped the second marker.

“okay. moving on before i lose consciousness.”

LESSON 2: PAST TENSE

rin wrote “i run → i ran” on the board, underlining it hard enough to almost snap the marker in half.

“see?” he said, already exhausted. “easy. present becomes past. you take the verb and adjust it.”

he turned to face the class. “now you try. give me a verb in past tense.”

isagi raised his hand, cautiously hopeful. “i score…d?”

rin nodded. “okay. acceptable.”

isagi puffed up like a proud golden retriever. “i scored goals yesterday.”

“let’s not stretch the truth,” rin deadpanned.

from across the room, bachira waved his arm like he was flagging down a plane. “ooh! i... explodated!”

rin turned so slowly it looked like a horror movie shot. “that’s not a word. do you mean exploded?”

bachira grinned. “yeah, but mine sounds cooler.”

“it sounds illegal.”

chigiri crossed his arms and flipped his hair. “i sprinted.”

rin nodded. “okay. that works.”

“i sprinted so hard,” chigiri said, “my responsibilities are still trying to catch up.”

rin muttered, “wish i could outrun this class.”

barou answered next without being asked. “i dominated.”

“god not again—”

“yesterday. today. tomorrow. i will always dominate.”

rin looked like he aged three years in five seconds. from the back row, nagi, eyes still closed, muttered, “i napped.”

rin sighed. “good. accurate.”

“i also gave up,” nagi added. “past, present, and future.”

rin just groaned. “gagamaru. you?”

gagamaru sat up like a toaster had popped inside his brain. eyes wide. posture weirdly perfect. confidence through the roof.

“i chewed.”

“…okay. acceptable. chewed what?”

gagamaru paused.

then, softly, he said, “not important.”

rin squinted. “is it something a human being shouldn’t chew?”

gagamaru didn’t answer.

bachira leaned in. “was it metal?”

gagamaru shrugged. “depends on your definition of metal.”

rin dropped the marker again.

LESSON 3: FUTURE TENSE

“final exercise,” rin said, barely hanging on to the last thread of his sanity. “use ‘will’ in a sentence. future tense. one sentence. that’s it.”

he should’ve known better. bachira raised his hand first, grinning like a little gremlin.

“i will dance on barou’s grave.”

barou didn’t even blink. “i will drag you to hell with me.”

“see you there,” bachira beamed.

rin massaged his temples. from the corner, nagi mumbled, “i will nap.”

“shocking,” rin muttered. “truly groundbreaking grammar.”

“i’m consistent,” nagi yawned.

somewhere in the back, chigiri was typing something aggressively into his phone.

“i will file a complaint with the ministry of education.”

“i’ll help you draft it,” rin said, already done with life.

then isagi, too serious for someone barely passing: “i will combust.”

rin took a deep breath. “correct. anyway, i will walk into the ocean and let the tide claim me.”

rin suddenly looked around the room.

“…where’s gagamaru?”

everyone paused.

then—BOOM.

a deep, echoing bang rattled the windows. rin flinched so hard he dropped his marker.

“…what,” he asked flatly, “was that.”

the door creaked open. gagamaru walked in, completely covered in soot and mysterious flecks of tinfoil. his eyebrows were slightly singed. he looked proud.

“sorry, sensei,” he said. “i misread the english label.”

rin squinted. “what did it say?”

“‘do not microwave metal.’”

rin closed his eyes. “AND?”

“i thought it said, ‘go microwave metal.’ so i did.”

there was a beat of pure silence.

“YOU MICROWAVED A SPOON?” rin asked, praying that was the worst of it.

“and a fork,” gagamaru added cheerfully.

rin stared at him, hands slowly rising to his face. then he let out the deepest, most guttural scream a man has ever produced into his palms.

“I AM DONE. I’M DONE TEACHING. I’M DONE SPEAKING. I’M DONE EXISTING IN THE SAME ZIP CODE AS THIS CLASSROOM.”

he turned back to the board and screamed:

“I’LL SPOKE YOU ALL INTO HELL—PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE—”

gagamaru looked up.

“…you mean speak?”

rin froze mid-exorcism.

“I WILL END YOU IN ALL TENSES.”

📋 BONUS CONTENT: END-OF-SEMESTER STUDENT EVALUATIONS

class: advanced english (barely) teacher: itoshi “why am i here” rin form: anonymous (but obviously not)

BACHIRA MEGURU

q: what did you enjoy about this class?

“watching rin glitch in real time whenever i said ‘explodated.’ beautiful.”

q: any feedback for your teacher?

“he should try giggling once. just once. for his soul.”

ISAGI YOICHI

q: what did you learn in this class?

“apparently ‘overthinked’ isn’t a word. but now i overthink saying ‘overthought’ instead.”

q: suggestions for improvement?

“give us a grammar therapy dog. rin can share it.”

CHIGIRI HYOMA

q: describe your teacher in one word.

“constipated.”

q: favorite part of class?

“when rin sighed so hard the lights flickered. i felt that.”

BAROU SHOEI

q: any thoughts on mr. rin’s teaching style?

“GARBAGE. ABSOLUTE GARBAGE. HE TEACHES LIKE HE’S BEING HELD HOSTAGE. ZERO PASSION. NO POWER. WHEN I WALK INTO CLASS, I EXPECT TO BE DOMINATED BY KNOWLEDGE. INSTEAD I’M DOMINATED BY SILENCE, DISAPPOINTMENT, AND HIS WEAK-ASS POSTURE.”

q: anything the teacher could do better?

“YEAH. FOR STARTERS, SPEAK LIKE YOU HAVE A LUNGS. STOP GRADING MY PAPERS LIKE THEY PERSONALLY OFFENDED YOU. THEY DIDN’T. PROBABLY. WRITE BIGGER, I’M NOT DECODING YOUR TINY CURSIVE LIKE IT’S A SECRET MESSAGE FROM HELL. AND FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING, TELL GAGAMARU TO STOP EATING SCHOOL SUPPLIES. HE BIT MY PEN. WHILE I WAS USING IT. WHO DOES THAT. PUT HIM IN A CAGE OR ANOTHER CLASS. I’M NOT TAKING ENGLISH NEXT TO A MAN WHO CHEWS ON STAPLERS.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

q: how would you rate this class?

“would’ve been better unconscious.”

q: did the teacher support your learning?

“yeah. he left me alone. 10/10.”

GAGAMARU GIN

q: what’s one thing you took away from this class?

“you can’t put a spoon in the microwave.”

q: final thoughts?

“i blinked once and he caught me eating tape. i think he's part owl.”

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist ; like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

[sarroth]

To add to the music: I love how many people in a sports stadium will sing along tonSweet Carolina together. I love that people who barely met each other will reach out and grab each others hands because the song says to and we are all just feeling so in love with people for just a second before the game is over and half of us go back to being introverts again. I love how no matter what bar or wedding I go to, just enough people know to yell ‘Where’s the fucking salt’ during Margaritaville that I don’t stand out like a swore thumb, even if I am sometimes the loudest and probably most obnoxious one to do it. I love that so many families have their own music oddities: My mother-in-law will often play Eric Clapton’s Cocaine at wedding receptions, I don’t know why; and a bunch of friends from college at some point came up with a dance-in-a-circle routine for Piano Man where two of them Air Harmonica.

A non-wedding music memories: Playing Eye of the Tiger and the Mortal Kombat song for my friend because he was losing his energy and even falling asleep when we were supposed to be studying for psychology. Or jamming to Whoop There It Is, on cassette, in my parent’s basement with my cousin, back when it wasn’t old school and we weren’t yet old fools but clearly were so cool.

I love sharing music with younger kids, whether it’s my own son or clients. Oh to go back and relive when Whoop There it Is was my son’s favorite song for a bit; when he’d refer to Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain as ‘The one with the BASS GUITAR’ or Second Hand News as ‘The “bamp bamp” song’; when he was obsessed with James Bond music rven though I haven’t met him watch the movies yet - though now it’s The Matrix trilogy pieces, which is still pretty cool, if less sing-along-able - or how into Hamilton he got where for a time to the point where I thought we’d have to plan a trip to Philadelphia to check out the site of the Continental Congress. Speaking of Hamilton, was a teenage client who I always let borrow control of the radio / USB input that finally got me to listen to it, as I was doing my perennial ‘I’m not interested in that because it’s too popular and it’s everywhere’ contrarian bit that I can’t always help. Or introducing 90s rap, hip hop, and R&B hits (including Whoop There it Is) to a client who’d only ever want to listen to modern rap - enough throwbacks play on the radio that he knew Dre and Snoop Dog and were surprised the songs he liked of theirs were ‘so old.’ Or the client that would occasionally tell me what part in Disney songs that I could sing, like Aladdin (fair, I’m a guy and shes a girl), or Baloo (fair, I’m an adult and shes a kid), or Elsa in ‘Do You Wanna Build a Snowman’ (wait, all I get to say is ‘Go away Anna’?! But I know most of Ana’s lines!). Good times.

Lord knows that the United States has and continues to commit atrocities. I can't justify that. And the current political situation here is scary as hell. But I love this place. I love the Atlantic Ocean and New York City and the Pacific Northwest. I love my Blue Ridge Mountains with my whole entire heart. I love cardinals and mockingbirds and kudzu and possums and black rat snakes and the way the woods smell in the mornings. 

I love that Americans are known for complimenting strangers. I love that we fry everything, and that we do it well. I love 12-foot-high plastic Halloween skeletons in people’s yards and tacky Christmas lights that stay up too long. I love that we are an unabashedly goofy people.

I love bluegrass music. I love stepping. I love that there are always folklorico dancers in my town’s Mardi Gras parade. I love that my town has a Mardi Gras parade, even though most people here aren’t Catholic or French and didn’t grow up with any kind of Carnivale tradition. I love that if "Livin On A Prayer" comes on a pizzeria, at least one person at each table won't be able to stop themselves from singing along. I love that the middle school gym shakes to the rafters when families cheer for THEIR baby finishing eighth grade and that they bring balloons and bouquets and flower garlands to celebrate.

I love the 80 year old couple at our local No Kings protest. I love all the little kids there with their families, too. I love the brass band that always shows up at protests here and plays old union songs and gospel music. I cry like a damn baby every time I hear “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing.”

This country is horrible and selfish and destructive, but it’s also wonderful and kind and full of people loving and fighting and trying to make things better. And the people saying that there’s only one kind of real American, and that if you don’t look like they do or talk like they do or think like they do, then you don’t count, those people can go pound sand. I’m as real American as they come, and those people aren’t the only ones who get to love our country.

[animehideout]

JJK MEN KISSING HABITS

I'm back with another treat :D

Characters: Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Toji Fushiguro | Nanami Kento | Choso Kamo.

Any Sleep Token fans here?

------------------------------------------------

‎GOJO SATORU ♡

‎A huge tease.‎

He always leans in way too close, lips just barely brushing yours… then stops.‎

He waits to see who breaks first you or him.‎

Kissing is a game to him, a challenge that he sets.‎

He always has that smug little smirk drawn on his face.‎

He’ll whisper something like "you nervous?" just to mess with you.‎

He starts with slow, lazy kisses as if tasting dessert, two fingers under your chin tilting your head. ‎

Give it a few seconds and he's flipping it, sudden, rough, devouring kisses that catch you off guard, that you weren't prepared for.‎

He turns slow kisses into a heavy make out session in a matter of seconds. ‎

Definitely can’t keep his hands to himself, he kisses using his whole body.‎

One hand tilts your chin, guiding the kiss.‎

The other sneaks under your shirt, fingertips trailing over your skin leaving goosebumps there.

Then moves down to grip your hips tightly, squeezing just to hear your breath hitch.

He playfully slides his knee between your legs and push your buttons.

He smirks into the kiss whenever he hears your soft sounds.

Your gasps and soft moans turn him on even more and push him to kiss you senseless.

Very playful while kissing, he would bite your bottom lip, or lick it and laughs at you softly when you get flustered.

He knows the effect he has on you and he knows how to use it, in his favor.

Afterwards, he always rests his forehead against yours.

Literally breathless and a total hot mess after devouring each other.

Still teasing, "Hmm not bad, wanna try again?"

Your lips drive him insane.

‎

‎GETO SUGURU ♡

‎Suguru is not in a rush. He kisses like he’s got all the time in the world to love you.

His hands doesn't roam a lot, one hand cups your cheek softly brushing your skin with his thumb and the other hand on your waist fixing you in place and pulling you impossibly close to him.

He loves to make you ache for his lips.

So he starts with a kiss on your forehead, on the tip of your nose, on your cheeks, on your jaw line, building thay sexual tension kiss by kiss, till finally he kisses your lips.

When the kiss deepens and he starts to lose control, he squeezes your waist hard to ground himself.

It makes you jumpy since you're ticklish so he laughs into your mouth.

That sweet soft low chuckle, it makes your heart burst.

He Kisses with purpose , every second, every movement is intentional, he knows what he's doing.e

He's memorizing you.

He's memorizing the taste of tour lips

He's memorizing the sounds you make.

He's memorizing the feeling and the way you lean into him.

He notices every single thing you do, the way you hold your breath right before be kisses you.

He loves it when you grab at his bicep, and feel his muscles, he lives for that, especially that he's way bigger than you.

He loses it when you run your hand through his hair or tug on it, man starts growling.

He mumbles a lot into kisses, whispering things like "mine", "I love you", "you drive me crazy".

And the way he says these things, his voice, makes your knees weak.

Afterwards, he rest his forehead against yours, eyes still closed breathing heavily "one more kiss".

‎

‎TOJI FUSHIGURO ♡

‎This man doesn't believe in the term soft kissing.His kisses are rough, desperate, greedy and controlling.‎

Toji doesn’t initiate kisses often, but when he does he usually initiates a heavy make out session, and its whether after a fight, when adrenaline’s high or when he’s jealous as hell and needs to remind you who you belong.‎

He kisses you as if he's claiming you. ‎

Before he kisses you, he presses his whole body against yours.‎

He pins you to the wall, trapping you.‎

His hand flat beside your head as he keeps that intense eye contact. ‎

He always starts with neck kisses rough and wet, a strong start to hook you up into his kiss.‎

No gentle warm-up, just full-on lips and tongue dragging down your skin.‎

He turns you into a moaning mess before he even reaches your mouth.‎

Toji loves to mark you.‎

He bites, hard enough to bruise so he can see them later and smirk.‎

His hands roam constantly, always end up on your ass, squeezing, pulling you closer.‎

Might lift your leg up around his waist and grind his hips against you.

Grabs your neck not too tight, just enough pressure to make your heart race.‎

When he finally kisses your lips they're always sloppy, wet, and open-mouthed, he literally devours you.‎

Always uses tongue, always deep, like he’s trying to taste your soul.‎

It’s hot, messy, and makes you lose all sense of time.‎

He kisses you like it’s a battle, like he’s trying to prove something.‎

But when Toji’s emotionally vulnerable, his kisses turn shaky like he doesn’t know how to handle the feeling of wanting someone that bad or how to handle you.‎

Afterwards, he says nothing he just buries his face in your neck, breathing heavy.‎

But his grip around you never loosens.

‎

‎NANAMI KENTO ♡

‎Before he kisses you, he always rests his forehead against yours.

His eyes closed, breathing you in, like he's recharging, grounding himself in your presence.‎

His thumb gently brushes your lips.‎

And then, in that soft voice of his, he whispers, "Can I?"‎

Once you nod, it’s all the permission he needs, it's like giving him the greenlight to do whatever he wishes to you.‎

He leans in slowly.‎

He always starts with soft, feather-light, cotton candy-gentle, kisses.‎

He always begins with short, tender kisses, then trails to your cheek, your neck, his lips lingering longer each time.‎

When he finally deepens the kiss, it’s still slow but more emotional.‎

He wants to memorize it, engrave it into his brain, so he can remember it whenever he misses you at work.‎

One hand cups your cheek, his thumb caressing it softly.‎

The other rests on the small of your back, holding you protectively.‎

Nanami hates rushed kisses.‎

If you kiss him too messily or urgently, he’ll pull back just slightly and murmur against your lips "Slower. Properly"‎

And then he kisses you the way he wants to be kissed as if he owns the night, as if the time stopped. ‎

He's very intimate, very serious when it's about you.‎

He adores it when you hold onto him, clutching his shirt, wrapping your arms around his neck like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded to earth.‎

It makes something inside him melt.‎• If your hair gets in the way, he’ll gently tuck it behind your ear.‎

His kisses feel like he's making up for all the time he spends at work and not by your side. ‎

Every kiss with Nanami feels like being loved out loud, deeply, calmly, completely.‎

Afterward, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, then pulls you into his chest.‎

Hand on your back, letting you rest against him.‎

No words,  just quiet, steady comfort.

‎

‎CHOSO KAMO ♡

‎ This man worships you and his kisses are pretty much the proof.

Kissing you is sacred to him, he doesn’t take it lightly.‎

With him every kiss has a meaning, has a story of its own.‎

He always starts slow, tender kisses on your shoulders, your neck, your collarbone, your hands, even your fingertips.‎

His hands are unbelievably gentle.‎

He holds you like you’re made of glass, very careful. As if one wrong move might make you disappear.‎

He holds deep eye contact before kissing you.‎

His gaze roams every inch of your face with awe.‎

When his eyes drop to your lips, that’s when it becomes difficult to hold back.‎

While kissing he’ll follow your pace, no questions asked.‎

If you're soft, he's softer. If you're rough, he’s ready to lose control with you.‎

If you're in a soft mood then he’ll cup your face in both hands, eyes closed, breathing you in, kissing you so gently.‎

If things get heated and you'd like to be more bold then he’ll pull you onto his lap, gripping your hips tightly.‎

That soft man flips fast, he becomes wild, hungry, unhinged in the best way.‎

And he shows you how dangerous he can be.‎

He kisses you hard enough to make you forget your own name, to make you lightheaded.‎

His arms tightly wrapped around you, not letting you pull away even for a second.‎

"Stay" he whispers in his low, raspy voice , his breath hot against your lips.‎

If you're into it, he'd bite your shoulders, marking you with deep hickeys that he kisses over afterward.‎

He always tilts his head, deepening the kiss like he’s trying to merge into you.‎

He slips out soft whimpers and moans, especially when you tug his hair or scratch his back.‎

He knows how much you love his sound and he wants you to hear it, the same he loves to hear yours.‎

When you’re both playful, he just stares at you smiling, watches you laugh, and then leans in to kiss you mid-giggle.‎

It makes you laugh even harder, and he grins against your lips.‎

Wfter kissing, he like to keep you seated on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder.‎

He strokes your hair, chest still rising and falling after how hard you were kissing.‎

Then he whispers with the softest smile, "Oh, I love you so much".

‎Who would you kiss?

[mona-risms]

HEAR ME OUTTTTTT. We know Rumi spent a ton of alone time before the movie timeline, but what if she had a go to cam girl she would drop huge amounts on during that time, and then afterwards flew you out to top her after talking for so long?

Wait shut up wait shut up oh my god your BRAIN wait I have so many thoughts about a camgirl!Reader I'm gonna yap so hard rn

Rumi being left to her own devices in solitude for most of her time, not really being able to join in with other people (whether it be due to her patterns or just bc of her training) gets anyone to end up surfing through the internet for too long. And deeper than they should too, which would most likely lead to her discovery with porn......and you 🫡 a camgirl in some random streaming site she ended up perusing after sheer curiosity took over

She's most likely sexually frustrated, especially considering it's not like she can just go out and hook up or smth, even if she wasn't an idol—her patterns made sure of that—but what she realises is that with camshows, she doesn't even need to worry about showing herself. And there was something that had her drawn to you compared to the other streamers

It wasn't just bc you were pretty to her, though it did help, but it's the fact that you're so nice too, making eeveryone comfortable in chat and even talking like this was just something normal instead of. Yk. A sex stream lmfao. Like, the moment she got on mid-stream, you notice her, someone new, and greet her :(. It was the way you commanded attention, not in the way that she did onstage but in the way that had everyone in chat mesmerised and her body following your every "I want you to...", every "imagine...", every demand and illusion you talked everyone through and set out—she knew you were talking to the audience, but it felt like you were speaking to her

So she donates AUDACIOUS amounts whenever you stream, zeroes that have everyone going "????WHAT" in chat and you with wide eyes. Considering how she's loaded as hell, she knew it wasn't necesarily pocket change but at the same time compared to the money she acc had, it's barely a dent in the digits. But she does it constantly, and I think if given the option, after gathering her nerve, she pays for private shows too. Not just to get off bc holy Fuck she needed it, but also just to genuinely talk to someone without feeling like she has to hide. Repeatedly doing this ends up with the two of you getting to know each other better to the point where you might even consider e/o as friends (though Rumi can't help but wonder if it's fr or she's clowning). Eventually (aka probably post-movie bc this is the only time I can see her being comfortable of being physically intimate and seen) she lets the question slip about whether you wanna visit South Korea—her footing the costs obviously. She IMMEDIATELY backtracks like oh god oh fuck you don't need to that was COMPLETELY inappropriate ohgodohgodshe's gonna get Banned-- wait you said yes? Wh

Cue her waiting to pick you up at the airport, with Rumi being in disguise. Cue the both of you actually meeting each other, with you being extremely puzzled ab why she's completely covered up.......until you see EXACTLY who's behind the account that pays you the most, that you've somehow grown attached to. You got paid. And flied over. By a CELEBRITY. KPOP ROYALTY. But Rumi doesn't want to be treated like that, she wants to be treated exactly how the two of you interacted w e/o online—as friends.....as camgirl and donating viewer........maybe even as something more.............

She wants the feeling that only you could ever give her, even when it was just through a screen. And right now? With you right above her, touching her puffy, pink, glistening clit as your fingers curled in and out of her needy cunt as you gave her praises and talked her through every single movement you made? That feeling was INTENSIFIED. And My God, with the collection of toys she bought the day after you said yes to her (ranging from vibrators to straps that you've probably talked about/used in streams before) she's showing she really really needs more of you ☹️☹️☹️ babyyyyy

Continued to here.

[cheftsunoda]

Hi! I love reading your works. Can you do a yuki one? I rarely see yuki smau. Something like the reader is a famous popstar and she’s soft launching and people are linking her to different drivers because they cant imagine her being with yuki. Yuki becomes sad and insecure with the comments… reader sees this and decides to show the fans how they’re 1000% look good together.

Im sorry if what I said was confusing 🥹 hope you can do this! Hehehe I really loveeeee yuki

for : you— yt22

smau + blurbs

yuki tsunoda x !popstar reader!

loving yuki was easy.

loving someone in the public eye though? not so easy.

as a global popstar, soft launching your relationship felt safe—until the internet decided to ship you with every possible driver on the grid— except yuki. they insisted it could never be him.

when you saw it starting to dim his light, you knew one thing for sure— it was time to show the world exactly who you are in love with. and just how good you look together.

fc : madison beer

(a/n) : you asked the write person bc I am a YUKI STAN!!!! the amount of yuki fics out there is tragic and he is such a cute little bean it makes me sad. and i rarely ever get yuki requests. so i started this right away love youuuuuu

—

yourusername

liked by yukitsunoda0511, alexandrasaintmleux, franciscagomes and 5,705,000 others.

yourusername : recent flics 🫶🏻📸

—

view 275,000 other comments.

username00 : she’s beauty and she’s grace…she’s hiding her man’s face

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : this actually made me giggle

franciscagomes : the prettiest girl in the whole world. i am so in love with you 🤧

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : love you even more keeks💋

alexandrasaintmleux : l'amour de ma vie🤍

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : my soulmate 🥹

username000 : 5 drivers in her likes, wags in her comments, pit lane pass— who do we think we lost gals???😕

↳ username1 : mmm could be lando. he has been in her likes forever.

↳ username5 : def not Lando’s hand.

↳ username7 : carlos?? franco?? pierre??

↳ username11 : guys hear me out but it could be yuki. he is always like first in the likes

↳ username7 : yeah right, yuki could never pull that

↳ username5 : i doubt it’s him

↳ username14 : whoever it is i need to know NOWWWW

↳ username77 : def ship her and francoooo

alex_albon : soft launch has started 👀

liked by yourusername and yukitsunoda0511

↳ username15 : what do you know albon???

↳ alex_albon : i know….that she is dating…..someone😁

liked by yourusername and yukitsunoda0511

isackhadjar : maman et papa

liked by yourusername and yukitsunoda0511

↳ yourusername : mon fils🤗

liked by isackhadjar

↳ username5 : WHO IS IT IM STRESSED

kellypiquet : Beautiful 😍😍

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : all you kells💋💋

yukitsunoda0511 : 📸📸

liked by yourusername

—

He’s quieter than usual when he walks through the door. There’s always a post race tiredness that clings to him—whether he’s celebrating or shaking off a DNF—but today it’s something different. Not sadness exactly. Just that slow, lonely ache that builds after three days of hotels, media, screaming fans, and dinners eaten alone.

You hear the soft shuffle of his shoes hitting the floor, the distinct rustle of his hoodie coming off. The thud of his suitcase dropped somewhere in the hallway. And then—

“YN?” he calls out gently, like he’s not sure if he should expect an answer.

You stay still under the covers, barely able to contain the smile tugging at your lips.

He walks into the bedroom a second later, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes already half closed with exhaustion—until he sees the lump under his blankets. His brow furrows in confusion, then softens instantly when your face peeks out.

“Hi,” you whisper, grinning.

Yuki freezes.

Then blinks. Then practically dives onto the bed, burying his face into your neck like it’s the only place he ever wants to be again.

“You’re here,” he mumbles into your skin. “What the hell… how?”

“I took the earliest flight this morning,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his small, warm frame. “I couldn’t wait anymore. I missed you.”

His whole body melts against yours like he’s finally allowed to rest.

“I missed you too,” he breathes, pulling the blankets over both of you. “So much.”

There’s a long moment of comfortable silence, broken only by the way he sighs as you card your fingers through his hair. He presses a sleepy kiss to your collarbone. Then one to your cheek. Then one to your nose.

“You’re the best surprise I’ve ever had,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“You say that every time,” you tease, but your voice is soft.

“And it’s always true,” he shoots back, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet yours.

“You looked tired on TV,” you murmur, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Thought I’d come take care of you.”

“You do take care of me,” he says with a sleepy smile, nuzzling even closer. “Just by being here.”

You lie like that for a while, limbs tangled under the sheets, the faint sound of traffic humming outside the window. He’s warm and real and home in your arms, and you don’t think you’ve ever loved him more than in this exact moment.

“I love you,” you say softly.

His eyes are already drifting shut, but his voice is certain.

“I love you more,” he whispers.

And just like that, the weight of the weekend disappears.

—

You wake up before him. It’s rare. Yuki’s usually up with the sun, especially after race weekends, his body still running on adrenaline and over scheduled energy. But this morning, he’s tangled around you like a lifeline, face buried in your neck, breath slow and even. You can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest against your back, one arm thrown lazily around your waist, the other trapped beneath you — not that he minds.

You don’t dare move yet.

There’s something sacred about this moment. The way the early morning light filters through the curtains, painting soft shadows across the bed. The way his hair is messily tousled, like he’s been fighting sleep all night. The faint crease of his cheek where it was pressed against your skin.

You smile to yourself. You’re not sure when being with Yuki started to feel like breathing — but now, you don’t know how you ever went without him.

He stirs slightly, humming low in his throat. Then his voice, rough and groggy.

“…You’re real, right?”

You giggle, turning in his arms to face him. “Still very real.”

He peeks one eye open, squinting sleepily. “Good. Thought maybe I dreamed you.”

You kiss the tip of his nose. “Nope. Full popstar, right here. In your bed. Wearing your t-shirt, by the way.”

He grins, eyes still half closed as he tugs you closer. “Looks better on you.”

You press your forehead to his, letting your fingers drift along his jaw. “You looked exhausted yesterday.”

“I was,” he admits, voice soft. “But you fixed that.”

You tilt your head. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You exist,” he says simply. “That’s enough.”

You don’t have a response to that. Just a full heart and a blush you can’t hide.

Yuki tugs the blanket up over both of you again and buries himself in your chest with a sleepy groan. “Let’s stay like this forever..”

“Yuki, you’d get bored in like ten minutes.”

“I’d nap between activities,” he mumbles. “I’m very adaptable.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair until his breathing slows again. But then his stomach growls, loud and dramatic. He lifts his head slowly, face deadpan.

“…Your fault.”

“My fault?”

“You’re warm and you smell like pancakes and now I want pancakes.”

“I do not smell like pancakes.”

“You do. Sweet. Like syrup.” He kisses your collarbone again. “Delicious.”

You roll your eyes, already reaching for your phone. “Fine. I’ll make us breakfast.”

“No. You stay.” He sits up, still disheveled, hair pointing in ten different directions. “I’ll cook. You’re the surprise guest. I’m the host.”

“You’re the host who doesn’t keep syrup in the house,” you tease.

“I will go buy some,” he says, deadly serious, already sliding out of bed in nothing but his boxers and a messy hoodie. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

“Yes, chef,” you call after him as he disappears into the hallway.

Ten minutes later, you hear him cursing in the kitchen — followed by a crash, a plate clinking against tile, and the distinct hiss of something hitting the stove. You throw on one of his hoodies and go to investigate.

You find him standing in front of the stove, proudly flipping pancakes that are slightly too brown, a look of pure determination on his face.

“Babe?” you say, arms crossed, amused.

He turns dramatically. “Don’t judge. I googled a recipe.”

You bite back a smile. “You used salt instead of sugar.”

He looks at the measuring cup. Then back at you. “…No I didn’t.”

You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay. You’re still my superstar.”

“I should be saying that to you,” he chuckles, leaning into your embrace. “But I’ll take it.”

You stay like that until the pancakes are edible (barely). You eat together at the counter, toes brushing, syrup dripping, laughter bubbling. No cameras, no concerts, no paddocks—just you and Yuki, sharing a quiet morning after the chaos.

And when he leans over, sticky with syrup and smiling too big for someone who only slept five hours, you kiss him again and think—Yeah. You could do forever like this. With him. Always.

—

yukitsunoda0511

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, lando and 1,750,007 others.

yukitsunoda0511 : tough weekend but happy to be home

—

view 172,000 other comments.

lando : happy to be home with your girlfriend🥰🥰🥰🥰

↳ lando : yuki’s got a girlfriend yuki’s got a girlfriend

liked by yourusername and yukitsunoda0511

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : and i’ve got sushi

↳ lando : GROSS. stay back 🤺🤺🤺

liked by yukitsunoda0511

danielricciardo : woah woah woah. what did I miss? our little yuki?🤧

liked by yukitsunoda0511

↳ pierregasly: yuki is busy being head over heels in love so call me and I’ll explain

liked by yukitsunoda0511, yourusername and danielricciardo

lilymhe : why is MY girl in YOUR bed bffr

liked by yourusername and yukitsunoda0511

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : stay mad

username00 : didn’t not know !boyfriend yuki was something i needed this year but i do

username5 : it’s giving “i just cried in the paddock but my girlfriend kissed my forehead and ordered my favorite rolls”

liked by yukitsunoda0511

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : this is quite literally exactly what happened

liked by yourusername and username5

alex_albon : yuki is softening. never thought I’d see the day 🥹

liked by yukitsunoda0511

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : having an angel gf really makes you swear less on the radio

liked by yourusername and alex_albon

username00 : i know y’all see slide 3. tell me that’s not her EXACT hair and her exact top from her post last week.

↳ username000 : no because YN? THE YN?? she is not dating yuki tsunoda. be serious.

↳ userame77 : they literally posted from the same sushi place 20 minutes apart 😭 y’all are just refusing to accept it

↳ username55 : i love yuki but let’s be real… she’s a popstar. a superstar. why would she date him???

↳ username35 : because she has TASTE??? and he’s funny, loyal, talented, and like… hot??? (they are both soft launching at the same time HUSH)

↳ username45 : people acting like yuki’s not a literal f1 driver 💀 he’s not some random off the street

↳ username25 : she wore a red bull jacket at her last show. she’s GONE.

↳ username33 : “that can’t be yn” okay but why not

↳ username100 : y’all seriously think miss grammy nominated global icon is in YUKI TSUNODA’S bed right now???

↳ username17 : yes. and she looks comfortable.

↳ username8 : she dated a DJ who wore pants with chain wallets. yuki is a level UP.

↳ pierregasly : yall are acting like my man ain’t a prize. anyone would be lucky to have him

liked by yourusername and yukitsunoda0511

—

yourusername

liked by yukitsunoda0511, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and 5,000,700 others.

yourusername : i have a thing for stuffed animals and cute people

tagged : lilymhe, mysteryman

—

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username00 : omg wait is it yuki?? that’s the same bed and that is most def her

↳ username10 : told you bitches

↳ username150 : still don’t believe it, probably PR and she is actually dating one of the other drivers.

lilymhe : honored to be your “cute person” and included in the soft launch dump🤧🤧💋

liked by yourusername

↳ lilymhe : alsoooo bodyyyyyy TEA

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : I LOVE YOU SMMMMMM

↳ alex_albon : you never tell me that my body is tea🥴

liked by yourusername and lilymhe

↳ lilymhe : do you look like that? 🧐

↳ alex_albon : no☺️

↳ lilymhe : know your place 🗣️

liked by alex_albon and yourusername

lando : what is the penguin’s name

↳ yourusername : pierre

liked by pierregasly and yukitsunoda0511

↳ lando : ofc it fucking is

liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511 and pierregasly

yukitsunoda0511 : don’t ask me the color of anything

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, lando, lilymhe and alex_albon

↳ username00 : hm.

↳ username55 : still not believing it

—

It was supposed to be one of those nights — quiet, warm, and familiar. The kind of night that made the chaos feel far away. Yuki had chosen his favorite little sushi spot, the kind that barely fit twenty people and didn’t even have a real sign outside. Just a faded curtain and the scent of rice vinegar and grilled miso that hit you the second you stepped in.

You slid into the booth across from him, toeing off your shoes beneath the low table, the glow from the paper lantern above casting a soft light on his already tired face.

“You look like you need ten hours of sleep and a massage,” you said, reaching across the table to tuck a messy strand of hair behind his ear.

“I need,” he said seriously, “eighteen pieces of salmon nigiri and you feeding me at least five of them.”

You grinned. “I can manage that.”

He lit up then — not full energy, not after the weekend he’d had — but enough to make your heart do that familiar skip. You ordered his usual and picked out a few rolls for yourself, not that it mattered; he always ended up eating off your plate anyway.

Halfway through the meal, he reached across the table with a roll clutched in his chopsticks. “Say ah.”

“Yuki—”

“Ah,” he repeated, eyes twinkling.

You leaned forward, lips parted dramatically. He missed on purpose, smushing it against your cheek instead. He laughed so hard he almost fell sideways onto the bench.

“I hate you,” you said through your laughter, wiping soy sauce off your face.

“You love me,” he corrected, still giggling as he popped the roll into your mouth properly this time.

It was easy like that. Just you and him, the clink of ceramic, and the warmth of his knee bumping yours under the table.

But then his phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Three times in under a minute.

He tried to ignore it. Nudged it face down. Reached for his tea. But the tension in his shoulders said otherwise. His jaw had gone a little too tight.

“You sure everything’s okay?” you asked quietly, your chopsticks pausing halfway to your plate.

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “Just… stuff.”

You tilted your head. “F1 stuff?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “People stuff.”

You didn’t push. Not yet. You just reached across the table again and slipped your hand into his.

He didn’t speak for a moment, just stared at the rice bowl in front of him, thumb tracing over your fingers like it grounded him.

“They’re saying…” He exhaled, finally. “That you’re soft launching someone else. That I’m just a decoy. Or a joke.”

Your heart cracked right down the center.

You squeezed his hand. “Baby. That’s not—”

“I know it’s not true,” he said quickly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But reading it… over and over. Seeing people laugh. Like I’m some weird fluke in your life.” He shrugged, voice smaller now. “It gets to me sometimes.”

You reached across the table with your free hand and cupped his cheek gently. “You are not a joke.”

He blinked, gaze flicking between your eyes like he needed the reassurance to stick.

“You’re my favorite person in the world,” you said, voice steady. “And they don’t get to see what I see. The way you take care of everyone. The way you laugh at your own jokes. How you always remember my favorite orders and get nervous when I’m sad even though you don’t know why yet.”

Yuki looked down, trying to hide the way his lips trembled into the smallest smile.

“I love you, Yuki,” you said softly. “And when you’re ready, I’ll show them all exactly why.”

He let out a long breath, like he’d been holding it in all week. Then nodded, still clutching your hand, eyes glassy with something that looked a lot like love.

“…Can we get more mochi?” he asked suddenly, voice slightly hoarse.

You grinned. “Of course.”

And when the server brought it over — green tea, his favorite — you fed him the first bite without teasing. He deserved that much. And so much more.

—

You get home just past 10 p.m. The city feels quieter than usual. Or maybe it’s just the way you’re both moving — slow, careful, tucked into each other like the world’s gotten too loud outside and this little apartment is the only place that still feels safe.

Yuki kicks off his shoes at the door and immediately reaches for your hand again, like he needs the contact to stay grounded. You squeeze it gently and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Go lie down,” you whisper. “I’ll bring tea? I think we still have lavender.”

“I don’t want tea,” he murmurs, eyes soft and tired.

“What do you want then?”

“You. Just you.”

Your heart stumbles at that. But you nod, wordless, and tug him gently toward the bedroom.

The lights are dim, the blankets still rumpled from this morning when you surprised him in them, and the quiet hum of the city filters through the cracked window. He sits on the edge of the bed, hoodie bunching around his shoulders, head bowed slightly like he’s trying to disappear into himself again.

You move slowly. Not because you’re unsure — but because you are. You’re unsure how he could ever believe he’s not enough. How the world could be so blind to the kind of love he carries inside him.

So you kneel in front of him, gentle hands on his thighs, and look up at him like he holds your whole universe.

“Can I take this off?” you ask softly, fingers brushing the hem of his hoodie.

He nods.

You lift it over his head carefully, smoothing his hair back when it sticks up. He lets you. His hands fall to his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. You press a kiss to the space just under his ribs. Then another to his chest, just over his heart.

“You’re so good,” you whisper.

He exhales shakily. “I don’t feel it.”

“Well,” you say, lips brushing his skin, “you don’t always have to feel it. That’s why I’m here. To remind you.”

You pull him gently down to lie back, crawling up beside him. You don’t want anything from him except for this — the quiet closeness, his heartbeat under your ear, the warmth of his skin under your fingertips.

Your hands run down his arms slowly, tracing the soft curve of his shoulder, the light muscles he always pretends he doesn’t have.

“You’re brilliant,” you whisper. “And brave. You show up even when people are too blind to see the work you put in. You make everyone around you feel lighter without ever asking for credit. You make me feel safe. Every single day.”

Yuki turns his head toward you. His eyes are glassy again, but there’s something steadier in them now. He doesn’t say anything, just cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss that’s so soft it almost hurts.

When you pull back, you brush your nose against his. “You are the best thing I’ve ever known. I hope you feel that. Even if it’s just right now.”

He tucks his face into your neck and wraps his arms around you like he can’t quite speak. You hold him like that for a long time, just skin to skin, breath to breath, the city humming quietly below you like a lullaby.

And when he finally whispers, “Thank you. For not hiding me,”

you whisper back, “I never could.”

Because how do you hide someone who feels like home?

—

It’s past 2 a.m. when you finally stop editing. Your eyes sting from staring at your laptop screen for so long, the dim blue glow casting tired shadows across your face. The little USB mic you keep in your travel bag is propped up on a stack of books, and you’ve recorded every single layer in the closet — the quietest place in Yuki’s apartment, where your voice could feel small and safe and close.

You hadn’t planned to write tonight. You were just going to lay with him. Let him sleep. Let the soft rise and fall of his chest lull you to peace. But the second you saw his face soften in the dark, curled around your pillow like he needed to disappear inside it — something cracked open inside you.

Because love like this wasn’t light and glamorous. It wasn’t tabloid headlines or paparazzi moments. It was devotion. Pure, aching devotion.

So you sat in the dark with nothing but your headphones, the click of the trackpad, and your own trembling voice.

You built the entire song around one phrase.

“It’s all for you.”

Every verse poured out of you like a confession, every harmony laced with the softest ache. There were no flashy beats, no layered production — just your voice, raw and unfiltered, wrapped in warmth. You sang about him like he was your blood, your breath, your gravity.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,

For you, I’d die a thousand times…”

You remembered how he looked tonight — eyes lowered, trying to make himself small after reading strangers say he wasn’t good enough for you. How he smiled anyway. How he still pulled out your chair, held your hand, kissed the inside of your wrist like he hadn’t just been broken open by the internet an hour before.

“Love is a gun, I’ll bite the bullet,

Wasn’t that enough for you?”

Your voice cracked when you recorded that line. Because it wasn’t a metaphor to you. You’d do anything to protect him — to carry his hurt, drown in his sadness, cradle his heart like something sacred. If pain was the price of keeping him safe, you’d pay it every time.

“Don’t play with my heart, that’s like playing with an open blade…”

This wasn’t just about defending him. This was about seeing him. Loving the boy who whispered his thoughts slowly like he was still learning they mattered. The one who danced in hotel rooms when no one was watching. Who forgot how famous he was when he laughed with his head thrown back. Who cried in frustration after a bad quali and then apologized to you for being too quiet afterward.

“There’s no greater love… not anything.”

You wiped your eyes more times than you could count. But when you listened to the final take — your voice layered three times over, each harmony hugging the last like a lullaby — you smiled. Not because it was perfect. But because it was true.

And when the sky began to turn the faintest shade of blue, and birds began to chirp somewhere outside the window, you closed your laptop softly and crawled back into bed.

Yuki stirred as you slipped under the covers, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Where’d you go?”

You curled into his side, your fingers tracing the shape of his hand without thinking.

“I wrote something,” you whispered.

His eyes fluttered open just a little. “For who?”

You pressed your lips to the shell of his ear. “For you. Only ever for you.”

He didn’t speak, but you felt it in the way he exhaled — long and slow, like the weight had finally begun to lift.

And when you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his, he pulled you closer with the softest smile and mumbled, “Play it for me in the morning?”

You kissed his temple. “Always.”

Because this was what love meant to you. Not the glitz. Not the cameras. Not the guessing games. Just this. A song written in a closet. A hand held in the dark. A heart wrapped around another. All for him. Always.

—

The sunlight is gentle when it wakes him.

A sliver of warmth cutting across the sheets, dust floating lazily in the quiet air. He blinks slowly, still groggy, still tucked beneath the covers where your body had been pressed against his just a few hours ago.

It takes him a second to realize you’re not in the bed anymore.

But then he hears it.

Soft, low, like a whisper bleeding out from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner of the room.

Your voice.

He pushes himself up, squinting toward the sound. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing his hoodie, laptop in your lap. You’re chewing your lip, eyes locked on the screen, finger hovering over the pause button.

“Morning,” he croaks, voice still heavy with sleep.

You look up immediately. “Hi.”

“What’s that?” he asks, already knowing — because there’s no way you sound like that in casual conversation. There’s something sacred in your tone. Something private.

You hesitate. Then, without saying a word, you click play again and turn the laptop toward him.

The song starts soft — just your voice, layered gently like it’s unfolding in real time. And then the words hit.

Tell me what’s on your mind…

For you, I’d die a thousand times…

Find you in every life.

Yuki blinks. Once. Twice.

He doesn’t speak. Just listens. The kind of listening that makes him go still all over, like he’s afraid to move and ruin it. His fingers tighten on the duvet as the chorus hits, as your voice swells into something aching and open.

Love is a gun, I’ll bite the bullet

Wasn’t that enough for you?

I’d do it again—

Somehow, it’s good for the soul…

Your eyes flick up to meet his. He’s not crying. Not quite. But his jaw twitches like he’s trying not to.

“Yuki…” you whisper. “I didn’t want you to go another day thinking you weren’t enough. Not when you’re everything.”

He lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh — but broken, disbelieving, a little stunned.

“You made this last night?” he asks quietly, still staring at you like he doesn’t know how you’re real.

You nod. “In your closet. I had, like, one mic and my laptop. It’s rough. I still need to—”

“It’s perfect,” he says before you can finish. His voice cracks. “It’s… you sound like you mean it.”

You shift closer to the bed, reaching up to brush your fingers along the curve of his cheek.

“I do,” you say simply. “Every word. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you. To make you feel loved. To keep you safe. Even when the rest of the world is stupid.”

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing.

“I’ve never had someone… say things like that about me,” he murmurs. “Not like that. Not where it feels like… truth.”

You climb onto the bed and curl up beside him, resting your forehead against his. “Well, get used to it.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispers.

You smile, kissing the space right above his heart. “You were just yourself. That’s all it took.”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment. Just pulls you into his arms and holds you like he finally believes it might be okay to be held.

When the song ends, he presses his lips to your temple and breathes, “Don’t ever let the world tell you this isn’t love.”

And you don’t say anything — because you know he’s not just talking about the music. He’s talking about you. And him. And everything you’ve built between the silence.

—

yourusername

liked by yukitsunoda0511, pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux and 10,007,000 others.

yourusername : for the one who reminds me love is quiet, steady, and worth everything — for : you out now.

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yukitsunoda0511

liked by yourusername, lando, maxverstappen1 and 5,005,075 others.

yukitsunoda0511 : best birthday ever spent with the love of my life.

—

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maxverstappen1 : yuck. so cute i almost threw up. happy birthday little man!

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and yourusername

lando : no fair. i want someone who takes me on beach trips and writes songs about me. UNIVERSE PLEASE.

liked by yourusername and yukitsunoda0511

↳ yourusername : universe says its either an angel gf or wdc. your choice.

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and lando

↳ lando : i will wait universe. no rush on that.

yourusername : sand man

liked by yukitsunoda0511

—

He’s still rubbing sleep from his eyes when you take his hand and start pulling him across the tarmac.

“Where are we going?” he mumbles, blinking into the early morning sun. His voice is low and a little scratchy, still half-asleep in the hoodie he threw on just minutes earlier. “You woke me up at six, YN. This feels like a kidnapping.”

“It’s not kidnapping,” you hum, swinging his hand in yours. “It’s a birthday adventure.”

Yuki squints at you suspiciously. “So I am being kidnapped.”

You roll your eyes, laughing as you stop in front of the jet — a sleek, white private plane with gold accents and balloons tied to the stair rail. Pink and gold balloons. With little stickers on the door.

Yuki stares for a second, then turns to you slowly. “No.”

You smile. “Yes.”

“You decorated a jet?”

You gesture with both hands, very proud. “It’s your birthday. You only turn twenty five once.”

He groans but the way his cheeks flush with surprise and affection makes your heart skip. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” you say, tugging him up the steps, “but I’m your ridiculous.”

The second you step inside, he freezes again. There’s a little table set up with breakfast laid out — his favorite rice bowls, miso soup, cut fruit, and mochi donuts. A banner hangs above the window that reads Happy Birthday, Yuki! in gold script, and there’s a tiny cake already waiting on the counter with a single, unlit candle. The air smells like jasmine tea and vanilla frosting, and the playlist you queued up last night starts to hum through the cabin speakers — soft acoustic guitar and sleepy love songs.

Yuki turns in place, taking it all in. Then he spins back to you, eyes wide.

“Wait. We’re flying somewhere?”

You lean in, arms looping around his waist. “Surprise.”

“Where?”

“Not telling.”

His nose scrunches adorably. “Not even a hint?”

You lean close, brushing your lips against the corner of his mouth. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere where you can take naps in the sun. Somewhere I can see you in those little swim trunks I like.”

He groans dramatically. “You’re evil.”

You grin. “Say thank you.”

Yuki melts into your arms, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being absolutely insane in the most perfect way,” he murmurs. “And for making my birthday feel like something special.”

You kiss the top of his head. “You are something special.”

Once the plane takes off, you curl up together in one of the lounge seats, a blanket pulled over both of you, your legs tangled lazily. He keeps picking at the fruit tray even though he claims he’s not hungry, feeding you the ripest bites of melon and whispering things like, “You know I don’t deserve you, right?”

And every time, you just shake your head and kiss him again.

“You deserve everything,” you say simply. “And this is just the beginning.” Because what Yuki doesn’t know is that in a few hours, you’ll be walking off this jet straight into a beach villa with a private stretch of white sand. There’s a hammock waiting for him under the palm trees, a picnic packed for two, and a quiet promise to make sure that this year, Yuki Tsunoda knows just how deeply he is loved. Every hour. Every day. Every birthday to come.

—

The wheels touch down just after noon. The sun is high and golden, the breeze warm as it filters through the palm trees swaying beyond the runway. Yuki’s nose is pressed to the window like a kid. You haven’t even told him the country — just smiled every time he guessed wrong.

“Wait,” he says slowly, narrowing his eyes as the door opens. “That’s... is that ocean?”

You smirk. “Ding ding ding.”

“You brought me to a beach?”

“I brought you to our beach.”

His head whips toward you. “Our beach?”

You just take his hand and lead him down the stairs, sunglasses sliding into place as the salty air hits your cheeks. Waiting on the tarmac is a driver holding a sign that says Happy Birthday, Mr. Tsunoda, and a golf cart decorated with a mini bouquet of tropical flowers on the dashboard.

Yuki’s face goes slack. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

You giggle, tugging him forward. “Not even a little.”

The ride from the private runway to the villa is short — less than ten minutes — but the entire time, Yuki can’t stop looking around. The winding path takes you past endless palm trees, blooming hibiscus, stretches of white sand, and finally up a curved hill where the ocean comes fully into view.

When the villa appears, he breathes out a low, stunned, “Whoa.”

It’s beautiful.

The whole place is carved from pale wood and stone, sun-warmed and breezy, with big glass doors and windows that open straight out to a deck leading onto your own stretch of beach. There’s a hammock tied between two palms, a linen canopy bed facing the water, and a little private plunge pool glistening under the sun.

He turns to you, still holding your hand. “You did all this? For me?”

You shrug like it’s nothing, even though your heart is racing. “I mean... I also planned the playlist, packed the sunscreen, and brought your favorite swim trunks.”

His eyes narrow, lips twitching. “The green ones?”

You grin. “The green ones.”

He suddenly wraps his arms around you and lifts you off the ground, spinning you in one wide, giddy circle. “You’re insane.”

“Possibly.”

“Romantically insane,” he corrects, still laughing as he sets you down. “Like, unhinged in the most beautiful way.”

You guide him through the villa, pointing out little surprises along the way. A tray of fresh mangoes and sparkling lemonade waiting in the fridge. A camera pre-loaded with film. A stack of books he’s mentioned loving. And on the bed, a handwritten birthday card you’d hidden earlier, sealed with a sticker that says “open me after your first nap.”

He holds it like it’s something fragile.

“Seriously,” he says, voice suddenly softer, “why do you do all this for me?”

You look up at him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Because you give so much of yourself to everyone else. I wanted you to have a place where you don’t have to do anything but exist and be adored.”

Yuki’s eyes glisten a little.

“God, I love you,” he whispers.

You smile, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me for at least the next 72 hours.”

He kisses you then — long and warm and full of all the things he’s not always good at saying.

And when the sun starts to dip low on the horizon, casting gold across the water, you both lie in the hammock tangled together. You in his arms, him in yours, the world distant and quiet.

He’s asleep before the sky turns pink. And you hold him like he’s the most precious thing you’ve ever carried. Because he is.

—

The sky is melting into a watercolor of pink and lavender by the time you wake him. He stirs sleepily in the hammock, face smushed against your collarbone, hair rumpled from the wind.

“Dinner time,” you whisper, brushing your fingers gently down his spine.

He blinks slowly, eyes adjusting to the dimming light. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Only for, like, two hours,” you smile. “Which I take as a win.”

You coax him off the hammock and lead him barefoot across the soft sand. He stops when he sees what’s waiting for him. The dinner table is set just a few meters from the waves, under a white linen canopy strung with tiny golden fairy lights. The candles flicker in the warm breeze, and a soft playlist hums beneath the crash of the tide — familiar songs, your voices layered between them. There are two plates already waiting, covered to keep warm. A bottle of chilled something in a silver bucket. The little cake from the plane, this time with the candle lit.

Yuki stares, lips parted slightly. “You did this too?”

You squeeze his hand. “Every detail.”

He doesn’t sit down right away. Instead, he turns to you and kisses you. Slow. Grateful. Like he needs you to feel it — the way his chest aches with how loved he feels.

Dinner is his favorite- grilled sea bass, pickled vegetables, steaming rice, and miso with extra tofu just the way he likes it. You talk about everything and nothing. He tells you a ridiculous story about Pierre from last race weekend, and you laugh so hard you nearly drop your chopsticks. Then, just as the stars start to show, you cut the cake. The bite you feed him is mostly frosting.

“Happy birthday, Yuki,” you whisper.

“Best one I’ve ever had,” he murmurs, cheeks pink.

And for the first time that day, he doesn’t try to downplay it.

—

Later, when the moon is high and the air has cooled just enough to raise goosebumps, you both wander down toward the water again.

He’s still in those green swim trunks you love. You’re wrapped in one of his oversized shirts and nothing else, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

“Come on,” you say, already halfway in. “It’s warm.”

Yuki hesitates for a moment, standing ankle-deep, gazing at the dark horizon. Then he runs forward and crashes into the waves with a splash that makes you squeal and laugh all at once.

He surfaces with a grin, water dripping down his face.

“I should’ve brought goggles,” he teases. “You always try to drown me.”

“Maybe I’m trying to keep you here,” you shoot back, swimming toward him. “Forever. In this exact spot.”

He meets you halfway, slipping his arms around your waist under the water, pulling you gently to him.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he whispers.

The sea is calm around you, the waves soft and rolling. Above, the stars are scattered across the sky like glitter, and the moonlight catches in his eyes.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your forehead against his.

“Do you feel it?” you ask.

“What?”

“That you’re loved.”

He nods without hesitation. “I do. Tonight, I do.”

You press a kiss to his lips — saltwater and sweetness.

“You deserve that every day, Yuki.”

His voice is soft against your mouth. “You give it to me. In ways I never even knew I needed.”

You stay there in the water for a long time, rocking gently with the tide, the whole world hushed around you.

Eventually, he kisses the corner of your mouth and whispers, “This is the best day I’ve ever had.”

—

f1gossipgirls

5,002,007 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Popstar YN spotted in the Red Bull garage this afternoon — greeted warmly by Lewis Hamilton, of all people 👀 Rumors have linked her to Yuki, Lando, and Charles… but we aren't sure who holds her heart just yet. But...Red Bull garage... we are thinking Yuki Tsunoda has won her heart.

—

The hotel room is quiet except for the hum of the city outside and the soft rustle of the sheets as Yuki shifts next to you, face buried in your neck, breathing slow and steady.

It’s the night before race day, and you should both be asleep by now. But your thoughts are restless, and so are your fingers — tracing lazy, invisible patterns along his back as he melts further into you with each gentle touch.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” you whisper into the dimness.

He shakes his head a little, voice muffled against your skin. “Not really. I feel good. Mostly just tired.”

You hum. “You’ve been so good lately. I hope the car plays nice.”

He smiles against your shoulder. “You’re my good luck charm.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart squeezes at the honesty in his voice. You press a kiss to his hairline, breathing him in. For a while, it’s quiet again. He draws little circles on your hip under the covers. You let the silence wrap around you like a soft blanket. Then, barely above a whisper, you say it.

“Yuki?”

“Mm?”

“…Do you want to just… hard launch tomorrow?”

His hand stills. You feel his breath catch, just slightly. “What?”

You shift to look at him properly, propping yourself up on your elbow so you can see his face. “I’m serious. I know we said we’d keep it just for us for a while, but…” You pause. “I’m kind of tired of no one knowing who I’m in love with.”

His eyes soften immediately. “You’re in love with me?”

You laugh under your breath, nudging his shoulder. “Obviously.”

He grins sleepily. “Okay, but say it again.”

You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m in love with you, Yuki Tsunoda. Madly. Desperately. Would get your name tattooed if I wasn’t a coward.”

He laughs, pulling you back down so you’re half on top of him now, tangled together in the sheets. “Okay, now I’m listening.”

You trace a finger down his chest, slow and thoughtful. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m hiding you. Or like we’re a rumor people pass around like it’s some wild theory. I want people to know that it’s you. That it’s always been you.”

Yuki is quiet for a moment. He reaches up, brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you too,” he whispers. “And if you want the world to know, then I want that too. I want them to see us. I want them to see how happy you make me.”

Your chest warms at his words, your fingers tightening gently in the fabric of his shirt.

“You sure?” you ask, a little softer now. “It’ll be a lot. The comments. The attention. All the guessing will finally turn into headlines.”

He nods slowly. “I don’t care what they say. I care that you want this. And if being mine out loud makes you feel more loved, then… let’s do it.”

You smile, impossibly soft, impossibly in love.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes.

Then, after a beat—

“Can I wear the hoodie you stole from my closet? The one that’s like three sizes too big?”

You grin. “If I get to love you forever.” 

Yuki lets out a sleepy laugh, pulling you closer until you’re chest to chest, noses brushing. “Deal.”

You fall asleep with your forehead resting against his, heart full, breath synced, already dreaming of tomorrow.

—

It’s hotter than expected when you step out of the car. The paddock is already buzzing — crew members moving in sync, fans cheering beyond the barriers, cameras flashing with every second step. It’s race day. There’s chaos, pressure, focus in the air. But none of it matters.

Because you’re holding his hand.

Yuki didn’t let go once the entire drive over. His thumb had been stroking your knuckles absentmindedly, as if reassuring himself this was real. That you were really doing this.

Now, as he climbs out of the car first, he turns immediately, reaching for your hand again.

“You ready?” he asks softly, eyes searching yours.

You smile and squeeze his fingers. “Only if you are.”

Yuki nods once — not the usual overconfident nod he gives during press conferences, but a quiet, firm one. A brave one. And then you both step into the paddock together. Hand in hand. No distance. No sunglasses. No dodging into opposite directions. There’s a half-second of silence before people realize. Before heads turn. Before someone from the Red Bull media team nearly chokes on their coffee. And then—

Click.

Click.

Click.

The cameras go wild. But Yuki doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t let go of you. He just walks forward like this is how it’s always been — you at his side, fingers laced with his, your expression open and soft, his full of quiet pride.

At first, it’s just a few curious glances. Then whispers. Then full-on chaos. Someone gasps. Someone says your name like they can’t believe it. You hear murmurs of “is that her?” and “wait—Yuki?”

But he keeps walking. And you keep walking with him.

You pass the garage first. Some of the crew members are so stunned they forget to wave. One of the mechanics turns to another with his mouth open like he’s about to lose a bet.

Then you spot Lando on a scooter up ahead, slowing to a stop and squinting at the two of you. His jaw drops when he realizes what’s happening.

He points. “Wait—hold on—are you serious? Is this real life?”

Yuki gives him a smug little smile. “Took you long enough.”

You wave sweetly. Lando dramatically clutches his chest like he’s been personally attacked by Cupid.

By the time you make it to the hospitality area, Lewis is there, leaning against the railing with a glass of green juice, watching the two of you with a proud, amused smile.

“Told you to make it public,” he calls to you, raising the glass. “Now you’ve broken the internet.”

You laugh as Yuki pulls you closer, tucking you gently under his arm now.

And just when you think the moment can’t get better, Max walks by, takes one look, and says with complete deadpan sincerity.

“Thank God. Maybe now the fan theories will stop dragging me into it.”

You and Yuki both start laughing. Eventually, the two of you settle in on one of the lounge sofas, tucked in the back corner of the hospitality space. It’s a little quieter here, a little more yours. Yuki turns to face you, one leg tucked under him. His hand finds your knee instinctively.

“You okay?” he asks. “That was a lot.”

You nod, eyes soft. “I’m great. You?”

He nods too. “I feel like... I don’t know. Lighter? I didn’t think I’d care this much, but... I do. I like people seeing you with me. Like, really with me.”

You smile. “You should. I’m yours.”

He grins, and it’s so full of pride and love that it makes your whole body warm.

Then, suddenly shy again, he asks, “Do you think... after the race... maybe we could post a picture?”

You lean in and kiss the tip of his nose. “Already have a whole dump ready.”

“You are my whole world,” he says, without missing a beat.

You rest your head on his shoulder, exhaling happily. And across the paddock, photos are already being uploaded. Tweets drafted. Headlines written. Whispers turning into roars. But none of it compares to the quiet way he kisses your forehead before walking to the garage. Because the launch wasn’t just public. It was personal. And it was perfect.

—

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, yukitsunoda0511 and 14,007,700 others.

yourusername : shoutout to redbullracing for helping with the hard launch and employing my super cute adorable boyfriend.

tagged : yukitsunoda0511

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yukitsunoda0511

liked by yourusername, lando, alex_albon and 7,007,007 others.

yukitsunoda0511 : very well aware that i am the luckiest man on the planet and i promise to not fumble.

tagged : yourusername

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view 343,005 other comments.

lando : you definitely fumbled a bit by waiting this long but i’ll allow it

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pierregasly : the most unexpected couple and somehow the most perfect. love you both 🤍

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isackhadjar : does this mean my parents are getting married?

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↳ yukitsunoda0511 : you can be ring bear

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hattiepiastri : YAY! FINALLY

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↳ oscarpiastri : how tf did you know and i didn't?

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↳ nicolepiastri : MY HEART IS SO WARM. MY FAVORITE COUPLE!

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↳ oscarpiastri : ouch?

—

[truth-bound]

Europeans, Brazilians, anyone else who doesn't deal with American work culture- here is a fun fact for you. We can be LUCKY to have a 1-2 week vacation.

Let me tell you about my job. It's a typical office job in GIS (engineering field type job thats sitting on a computer looking at data), has insurance included (not that the job pays for the insurance, just that it is included. It comes out of your paycheck if you sign up). Pays roughly $19 an hour for me, but I know I make the least out of all my coworkers for... reasons. Paid time off (PTO henceforth) is in hours, and it is assumed you take 8 hours of PTO a day. I have currently 21.7 hours of PTO starting from Jan 1st 2025. I have used 28 hours of PTO.

This isn't guaranteed. They don't have to give me this. I have one 'free' day of PTO as a floating holiday. I have to ask in advance to use it but I still have it. Also, PTO doesn't necessarily mean it was for a vacation or anything stress reducing. I must use my PTO on sick days or if I have a family emergency. If I don't, I could go into the negatives- yes I have been in the negatives before. I had a surgery that took longer to recover than I initially anticipated.

Do you want to know how I get more PTO? It accrues. Biweekly. At a rate of 4.62 hours per every two weeks worked. So for me to get one day off of work, I have to work a little less than four weeks. AND it gets less if I didn't work the full 40 hours a week/80 hours biweekly.

The real kicker? My company furloughs us every few months for a week or two. We are expected to use PTO or something if that happens. PTO does not contribute to accruing PTO. So whether we want to or not, we have to sit on our asses not taking a vacation because we could get called in any moment to go back to work without getting paid or using up the PTO we could be using to spend time with our families or have fun or something.

I'm not sure if this is actually allowed, but when I have a sick day I just don't take PTO and choose to not get paid because I would rather not get paid and not use up my precious vacation time. Management does not like it but I haven't been officially reprimanded by it and I think they understood it would just be salt in the wound when I had negative 12 hours of PTO at the start of this year.

AND HOW MUCH PTO DOES MY HOURS ACTUALLY EQUAL IN DAYS? AND HOW MUCH TIME HAVE I SPENT USING AS VACATION? WELL. SIX. I'VE BUILT UP 6 DAYS OF PTO SINCE JANUARY AND ITS NOW JULY. AND YA WANNA KNOW THE BEST PART? I'VE USED NONE OF IT FOR VACATION.

So, Europeans. People that live in countries that give much more time off. I hope this enlightens you to the constant stress even white collar office job Americans are under. I am so tired. I don't even like GIS.

Please give us some of ur vacation time or free us or whatever. we could become so much more cultured and enjoy life and maybe some fellow americans could be less xenophobic if they actually had the time to travel and enjoy life.

From the media that brought you "Millennials are killing [insert industry here]" articles for years and years and years, now we have....

"Hey, Gen Z, we're gonna relabel vacations into something else now and tell you how you really should be wary of taking vacation because it might impact your financial future."

This is a goddamn dystopia, we know this, right?

[ovaryacted]

yeah like he’s A Man. strong and sturdy and safe and whose number one priority is making you feel good… need dat

​​AND HE IS!! THAT’S A REAL MAN YOUR HONOR!

Like, look at him? I can't really explain this properly lmfao (I never do), but Jack Abbot to me is "big & broad" where it's needed if that makes sense? Like his arms are thick, his biceps bulge and twitch when he does literally anything. We saw him carry things around, use a knife to tear open a box of emergency gear, he has physical body strength and probably keeps himself active from both a mix of routine from years in the military & recommendations from physical therapists/doctors/his own kfnowledge. He probably goes on runs and lifts weights in the gym for muscle maintenance (don't imagine him sweating through his t-shirt in the gym and lifting the underside of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and his dog tags are on his chest WHEWW!)

I have no doubt in my mind that Jack can pick somebody up. I don't care what you tell me, I KNOW IT'S TRUE! THIS IS MY CANON! But yes, like he'd manhandle you if he wants to because he can. He'll reposition you if needed, whether that be at work when he’s trying to get by you, or when it's just you two getting frisky.

He’s the kind of man that will put you in certain positions depending on his mood, and he really doesn’t mean to shift you around so much, but he does it anyway. He’ll pin you to the mattress with his big hands on your hips and palm your stomach when he’s fucking into you in missionary. He’ll wrap a hand around your thigh, toss your legs over his shoulders, and push your knees back to your ears to keep you spread open for him as he pummels into you. He’ll flip you over on your hands and knees and has his way with you that way from behind with a hand on the back of your neck keeping your face into the mattress. He’ll have you on top and fuck you from underneath and pull you back down onto him like his personal fleshlight. He’ll pull you off of his cock and maneuver you on top of him with your thighs on either side of his head so he can make you ride his face. He’ll lift you to the bathroom so he can let you pee and then clean you up afterwards in the shower when your legs don’t work. You can trust Jack with your own body weight because he'll be able to support you off the ground or keep you pinned against the wall by holding you from the underside of your thighs. 

He's not invincible, but he's far from weak, don't get it twisted.

Jack Abbot isn’t ripped at all, but he’s firm, solid. You can see the outline of his shoulders flex under his scrubs, the lines of his back shifting underneath the material of his work clothes. His waist doesn’t taper in, but it doesn’t have to. His entire frame is like the prime example of a tree trunk but in the sexiest way possible, because he probably has a strong ass core lol, and it’s more freckled surface area to love anyway. I like to imagine he has thick thighs (he does), and his cargo/scrub pants don’t hide ANYTHING. I mean given he’s an amputee, he’d probably have to continuously workout to maintain his own strength and physical function with his prosthetic especially as he ages.

So imagine him doing a bunch of leg work, going hard on leg days at the gym until he hits his physical limit and his joints start to ache, but that work pays off because you can see every tendon in his calves and thighs. Of course, you feel it when Jack fucks you in any position, or when he’s fucking your throat and your nails are digging into the hard muscle that start to shake when he comes on your tongue.

He’s strong, he’s reliable, you can depend on him in quite literally anything. He built his body from the ground up, cause chances are he didn't look like that his entire life, but it's just something about an older man maintaining his physical strength despite not looking like a bodybuilder. Yeah...NEED DAT BAD!