#somehow navigating my overflowing inbox

[the-kingshound]

I love the implications of MCs strength. In a normal sense it makes them VERY imposing, whether played shy, stoic, or mean (ish) the strength carries weight (haha) and it's very interesting to think how it could effect situations and characters opinions and reactions to them

NSFW implications

With all the other characters being a whole 😳 at MCs ability is absolutely understandable, short MCs with that strength 👀 TALL MCS WITH THAT STRENGTH (Yniol we're coming for you) could absolutely throw some people around in the best way

But also MCs of that strength maybe being a little extra careful with Morien, not so suddenly trying to be much gentler (like, consciously) bc they know they can accidentally be rough given their power, I'm so soft for that 🤌

MC will need to be gentle with Gwar too. They bruise very easily, like they brush against the angle of a table and for three weeks they have a deep huge bruise.

(But Gwyar also likes hickeys because they stay on their skin for a lot of time too...)

[zeroseuniverse]

Ready To Love

Word Count: 931 Summry: She glared. "And you’re annoyingly good with them." Kun smirked. "I’m annoyingly good at a lot of things." Pairing: Kun X fem Reader

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She was not built for chaos. Her life was meticulously organized—calendars color-coded, deadlines met weeks in advance, and every meal planned down to the last calorie. Disruptions were unacceptable.

So when her best friend called her in a panic, she should have known better than to pick up.

“___, please, I swear it’s just for a week,” Her friend pleaded. The desperation in her voice was evident, but she was already shaking her head, even though she couldn’t see her.

“ I have meetings, deadlines, I can’t—”

“Nari loves you! And I have no one else. My mom’s out of town, my cousin bailed, and if I cancel this work trip, my boss will actually fire me.”

She hesitated. The thought of caring for a toddler—a whole human being—for an entire week made her stomach clench. But then she heard a soft giggle in the background, followed by Nari’s tiny voice:

“Auntie ___?”

Damn it.

She sighed. “One week. That’s it.”

Her friend exhaled in relief. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you so much.”

Yeah, she did.

She learned very quickly that a two-year-old had no respect for schedules, efficiency, or the concept of personal space.

Nari was adorable, sure—pudgy cheeks, big eyes, and an alarming ability to wrap her around her tiny fingers—but she was also a menace. She refused to sit still, turned meal times into a war zone, and somehow managed to make her feel like the most incompetent adult in the world.

By the end of the first day, she was exhausted. Her apartment was covered in toys (which she definitely didn’t own before), her inbox was overflowing, and her neatly structured life had been completely derailed.

Then came the final straw.

She was struggling to get Nari into her stroller for a quick grocery run when she heard a low chuckle from behind.

"Need some help?"

She turned and found herself face-to-face with her neighbor—Kun.

Of course it had to be him.

Kun had always been... annoyingly perfect. The kind of guy who helped elderly neighbors carry their groceries, always remembered birthdays, and had a seemingly endless supply of patience. He was also ridiculously charming—the worst kind of person.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, trying to wrestle Nari’s arm through the stroller straps.

Kun raised an eyebrow, then knelt in front of Nari. “Hey, kiddo. You wanna help me out here?”

To her absolute betrayal, Nari grinned and reached for him immediately. Kun fastened her in the stroller in three seconds flat.

She scowled. “How—?”

He smirked. “Oldest of four. I’ve been through this before.”

Of course.

By the third day, she had no choice but to accept defeat.

After another sleepless night—Nari hated sleeping, apparently—she found herself standing outside Kun’s apartment, knocking hesitantly.

He opened the door, eyebrows raised. “Wow. You look—”

“Finish that sentence and die,” she muttered.

He grinned. “How can I help?”

She exhaled. “I need a break. Just an hour.”

Kun didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “I like kids.”

“You like everything.”

He laughed. “Not everything. But I do like helping you.”

She ignored the way her stomach flipped at that.

Kun took Nari to the park, giving her an hour of blissful, uninterrupted silence. When he brought her back, she was laughing—giggling—and he looked so effortlessly at ease with her that something in her chest ached.

"She’s an angel," Kun said fondly.

She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. "She’s a demon.”

He just chuckled. "You’re just bad with kids."

She glared. "And you’re annoyingly good with them."

Kun smirked. "I’m annoyingly good at a lot of things."

By now, Kun had somehow wormed his way into her daily routine. He showed up with breakfast, played with Nari when she had meetings, and made her laugh more than she had in years.

It was getting dangerous.

She wasn't looking for romance. She barely had time for herself, let alone a relationship. But Kun made it so easy.

And the worst part? She liked it.

That night, after Nari had fallen asleep, she found herself sitting beside him on her couch, both nursing cups of tea.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted. “Why are you like this?”

Kun tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Nice. Patient. Helpful. Just... good.”

He smiled softly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because life isn’t like that.”

Kun studied her for a moment. “I think you just haven’t let yourself slow down enough to see the good parts.”

She swallowed. No one had ever said something like that to her before.

And the scariest part?

She wasn't sure he was wrong.

When her friend arrived to pick up Nari, she expected to feel relieved.

Instead, her chest felt... hollow.

She handed Nari over, ruffling her hair as she clung to her one last time.

“Bye-bye, Auntie!” she giggled.

She smiled. “Bye, munchkin.”

As they left, she turned to Kun, suddenly feeling awkward. Without Nari around, there was no reason for him to keep showing up. No excuse to let him into her life.

But he lingered.

“So,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What now?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Kun’s gaze was steady. “I do.”

Her heart pounded. “Oh?”

“Dinner,” he said simply. “With me.”

Her lips parted. “With or without a toddler?”

He smirked. “Let’s start with just us.”

And for once in her life, she let the schedule go.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Kun’s smile was slow, warm, and full of something terrifyingly real.

Maybe—just maybe—this was a kind of chaos she could learn to love.