#as if any of that is right or ok to say or helpful or like idk

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch2. you may now kiss the bride!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his early 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 2/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 16.8k (i be yappin)

a/n. AHHH thanks very much for 2k followers!! yippeee :”) i had a lot of fun writing this chapter of ihm i feel like there’s a lot of silly but a lot of angsty too and i got to set up a lot of secondary plot lines in this chapter which was fun. i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 (pending)

“Can you chop down that stupid avocado tree of yours already? It keeps dropping its devilish spawn all over my herb garden.”

“Wow. Good afternoon to you too.”

Gojo scratches the back of his head from where he’s opened the front door of his house, standing in his pajamas and you briefly glance down at his bunny slippers before looking back up at him with a ridiculing face before pushing past him into his house.

Gojo’s house is almost the exact mirror of yours, as are most houses in the neighborhood, but it’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it and so you take an indulgent look. A cozy family room to the side, which you see he’s decorated with a coffee table and a loveseat, and the staircase is visible from the entrance. A modest dining table sits where the carpet turns into wood, and you’ve noticed he’s made the effort to place real hardwood on his floors contrary to the laminate in yours. Ok, show off. Your eyes take in the paintings on the wall, and you remember how his house almost looks fake, like in the way he sets up props in open houses he’s showing for clients, as if someone lives here and yet somehow there’s no real living proof of it.

And because it’s pretty much the exact same layout as your house, you know exactly where the pantry room is, and you grab a bunch of Doritos and Pocky from his secret snack drawer.

“Oh yes, go right ahead. Please,” he says sarcastically as he leans against a support pillar near the dining room and watches you stuff your face with his snacks.

“So,” you say, muffled, “did you grab the paperwork?”

“No, I didn’t.” He glances at his watch. “My friend’s a family law lawyer, and he’s gonna be here soon to help us out with the prenup.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’re being serious about the prenup? You really think I’m trying to gold dig at the cobwebs of your bank account? How little self respect do you think I have?”

“...do you really want me to answer that questi–”

The doorbell ringing startles you, and you quickly wipe at your face to clear any crumbs before setting the wrappers in your hands onto a bookshelf as you watch Gojo head to the door and open it.

You hear another distinct masculine voice ring in the air as Gojo exchanges pleasantries with him in the form of a handshake and a familiar hug with a few pats on the back, and then the angle Gojo twists his body reveals the man standing outside the door. He’s a bit shorter than Gojo with a lean build, clad in a fiercely formal black suit and tie with polished shoes. His hair is well-kept, short and raven black, and his eyes are sunken with what you can only imagine is fatigue. And it’s kinda hot to you, unfortunately, after years of working the night shift, you’re starting to find dark circles under people’s eyes to be extremely attractive.

“Uh, y/n, this is my friend, Higurama. Hiromi Higurama,” Gojo says, gesturing between the two of you,  “and Hiromi, this is y/n. My obnoxious neighbor. Careful though, if you get too close she’ll bite off your fingers.”

“I’ll bite off a different appendage of yours if you don’t shut the fuck up,” you snarl at him, and Higurama takes a step inside the house to greet you with an outstretched hand. 

“Hi, it’s lovely to meet you,” he says, and you’re a little startled by the politeness, but aptly shake his hand and nod before squawking out a likewise!!

You look past Higurama at Gojo who’s got an eyebrow raised at you, and then your eyes are on Higurama again as you watch him set his briefcase down on the dining table. “Are we ready to discuss?” he asks, brown eyes darting between the two of you. You nod and take a seat across from him, and Gojo first grabs everyone some glasses of water before he takes a seat at the head.

“So,” Higurama starts, “I take it you two are madly in love and would like to enter a marital agreement to declare your affections for one another in the court of law under just circumstances?”

You blink at him. “Y-Yes. Very just circumstances. Nothing shady going on here, we are indeed very madly in love and would like to get married.”

“Why the fuck would you say it like that?” Gojo chirps in but not before sighing. 

“T-The way he asked was really nerve wracking!!” you counter. And then your eyes widen when you look at Higurama again, who has a slightly amused tug to his lips. “...oh, you already know this marriage is a fraud.”

“I was just testing you,” he casually says, “in case they mention any suspicions in court. Seems you should just let Satoru do the talking.”

You pout a little and sink further into your seat, then bring the glass of water up to your lips. 

“Well, in any case,” Higurama says, and then he goes on into the details of what to expect in the courtroom. He pulls out paperwork for the marriage license application and starts to walk the two of you through the prenuptial agreement. 

“It’s my understanding you’re both desiring a prenup for this marriage?” Hugurama asks, brow furrowed slightly as he rustles through the endless papers in front of him that he was drowning in.

You briefly glance at Gojo, who’s also looking through all the papers with a concentrated look on his face, his features tense and he’s slightly worrying his bottom lip through his teeth. He’s thinking way harder about this whole prenup thing than you would, and you realize he’s genuinely taking this very seriously. 

“Um, yes,” you acquiesce, suddenly feeling a little guilty. And you remember who’s the one in need of the favor here. “I’m okay with the prenup.”

Higurama tells you two about the implications of the prenup, what can and cannot be included under state laws, and stresses the importance of full financial disclosure and fairness in the agreement to ensure its enforceability in the event of a divorce. Basically, don’t fucking lie about anything or else you two could sue each other to hell for it should divorce occur. You both agree, and you’re feeling sick to your stomach with anticipation. 

“Alright,” Higurama interjects your thoughts, “I will begin to draft the document then. Let’s start with assets.”

Gojo drones on about his tangibles, intangibles, cash equivalents, stocks, yada yada and you open up with yours too, but you can barely hear anything you’re saying and you can hardly hear what anyone else is saying either because you’re just dreadfully awaiting for Higurama to finally bring up—

“How about debts?” he asks, mindlessly as he types away on his laptop, as if the question doesn’t make you want to throw up. 

Your breathing picks up in speed, and you’re nervously fidgeting your hands over the surface of the table. You glance over at Gojo again, this time startled to find his eyes are on you too. His gaze briefly flickers to the shuffling of your fingers, then it meets yours again as he tilts his head slightly in a silent ask of you good?

“Uh–” you start, when you feel Higurama’s eyes on you too now that the silence has stretched on for too long, “I’m…well, I’m in a bit of…debt. From nursing school, a little bit from undergrad still, actually…”

“Okay,” Higurama says, “how much would you approximate? I’ll need the official loan statements soon, though.”

“Well, I’m paying off slowly…but last month I have around seventy-thousand still to pay off.”

“Alright,” Higurama accepts, “and you, Satoru? Student loans?”

“Oh, I don’t have any,” he says, “I paid them off a while ago.”

You feel like you’re being opened apart at the seams, and suddenly feel ashamed.

“Alright, what about other debts? Credit card debts? Any loans to know about?”

You figured you just needed to rip the bandaid off.

“Um,” you say, “I’m about three hundred thousand dollars in medical debt from my mother’s treatment loans.”

The room goes quiet, there’s no more rustling of papers or the mechanical jumping of keys on a keyboard, hell, even the birds outside stopped chirping to display their disbelief. 

“Wha–” Gojo starts, like he can’t help it, before he catches himself out of politeness, but he’s still looking at you with concern and shock. “y/n…what happened?”

You look over at Higurama too, and he’s completely turned away from the document he was drafting on his laptop, full attention on you, and his brow is creased with the same amount of concern. And you feel like you’re in therapy. You also feel like you’re about to cry.

“Well…it’s just,” you start, throat feeling raw, “my mom couldn’t qualify for medical loans because of years of poor credit, and insufficient income, and her cancer treatments became really costly, and so–” you suck a breath in, because your voice cracks slightly at the end. You were not about to cry in front of them right now. “And so I decided to cosign on her loans so she could receive treatment, and stuff kept coming up, and I had to work reduced hours for a couple of years when she was first diagnosed, and…some payments got away from me, and so then…there was interest, and…it’s…I guess over five years, things just…accumulated.”

They both sit there in stunned silence, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, like they understand your situation is so fucked in its entirety that they can barely even bear to put themselves through the trouble of even imagining themselves in your shoes, let alone fathom that you’re living in them.

Higurama clears his throat and redirects his attention to the computer. “That’s… no problem for the prenup. Thank you for being honest.”

“Hey,” Gojo interjects, and his hand reaches out to lay over your fidgeting hands over the table. His eyes are serious. “Why didn’t you–” he starts, and his face softens slightly when you can’t help the small sheen of tears that reaches your eyes, “...why didn’t you say anything about this? I mean, anytime we’ve talked.”

It’s your turn to look at him with a tense expression, and you slowly withdraw your hands from the hold of his palm to place them in your lap under the table. “Uh, why would I share about my financial woes to my neighbor? Don’t most people just act like shit’s normal with their neighbors?”

“I guess, but I didn’t know it was that ba–”

Higurama’s phone starts to ring, and he glances at the Caller ID before sighing slightly. “Sorry, I have another client I need to see soon. We’ll have to wrap this up, but I’ll continue drafting this document. Please send me your relevant statements for any loans and–” he glances at you, “...associated debts.” He starts to gather his things at the table, then neatly tucks his papers into his briefcase before placing his laptop in there too. He reaches to shake Gojo’s hand first, then shakes yours, and holds onto your hand a second longer to gather your attention. His eyes are almost solemn.

“I truly hope your mother gets better soon,” he says to you, tone contrite. 

You slowly nod and thank him, and then Gojo goes to see him out the door.

The house feels quiet when Gojo closes the front entrance, and he stays facing the door for a few seconds before slowly turning around to face you, back leaning against it as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off.

“I really–” you say, “...I really don’t want to talk about it.”

His face contorts into confusion, and it looks like he’s about to protest, but you allow yourself to show the slightest amount of the hurt and the worry on your face, and he realizes that means he shouldn’t try to push it.

“Okay,” he says, and quietly. 

Things are awkward in the air for a second, so you waltz over to the window and watch through it as Higurama gets into his car, some type of sleek old black Mercedes Benz but it’s polished to perfection, and you let out a content sigh.

“What?” Gojo asks you, tone a little short. 

“Ohhh, nothing,” you say, bringing your hands up to cup your cheeks to feel their warmth as you take in the image of Higurama’s slender legs in his business attire, “I just…” you sigh again, “I just loooove men in suits. I wish I knew more men that wore them often.”

A beat of silence. “Um. I wear them often?”

You turn on your heel to face him. “Yeah, but you wear them in, like, a slutty way. Higurama,” you say, pointing with your thumb facing the window, “wears them in the actually respectable workplace way. Hence why it’s hotter on him.”

He scoffs. “And yet you’re always staring at my ass from afar when I’m wearing my tailored trousers.” 

“I seriously wonder what it’s like to be so fucking delusional all the time,” you shake your head at him and he looks like he’s got a comeback on his tongue but you sshhhhhhhh him and walk back into the heart of the house. You look over your shoulder briefly, and see Gojo’s standing where you were standing at the window a few seconds ago, looking out onto the street, and he’s grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite hear. And then you hear the sound of Higurama’s car driving away. 

You circle around the dining table, and take a seat to look through the marriage paperwork Higurama left behind for the two of you to fill out.

“Bring the paperwork over to the kitchen island,” you hear Gojo say as he makes his way to the kitchen, “I’ll fix us some coffee.”

The island has a seated side to it with bar stools that raise high and turn in fully 360 degree fashion, so you swirl around in your seat to make yourself dizzy while Gojo brews some coffee with his espresso machine. 

“Mm…smells nice,” you comment, still swirling.

“Milk? Sugar?” he asks you, and you stop swirling to answer him.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to Gojo’s house. When he first moved in next door, you brought him a plate of cookies as a welcome to the neighborhood! gift and he had invited you inside and fixed you a cup of coffee then too. The house was mostly empty back then, he’s made a lot of good work in filling it with furniture in that sort of IKEA catalog fashion, and you can clown on him for it all you want, but it still looks nicer than most homes you’ve been in. Anyways, you only visited him in his house a couple times after that before you realized you hated him. Because he blasts loud music at the most random times, which you’re convinced he’s just trying to show off the sound system he probably spent an unnecessary amount of money on, not to mention an unnecessary amount of time installing. He also always forgets to mow his fucking lawn, and it drives you nuts because then the weeds spread over into your lawn, but it’s not like it matters because you hardly mow yours either, but still. And that fucking boat. That fucking boat he keeps right at the edge of your driveway that taunts you and your ability to pull into garages after every single one of your dreadful night shifts. One of these days, you might just steal it and drive it into the ocean so it drowns. Wait, boats don’t drown. That’s the point of boats. They’re buoyant. It’s okay, you’ll find another way to get rid of it. The boat, you mean. 

“Here you go,” he says, sliding a cup of coffee to you across the island. You peer inside at the brown liquid, and the scent alone awakens your senses.

“So, logistics,” you say.

“Logistics,” he repeats after you as he stirs a spoon in his mug. 

“We need to make this believable,” you say to him, “otherwise the marriage could be invalidated, and we could face criminal charges, and I could lose the insurance benefits for my mom, and potentially get sued by said insurance companies, and get thrown into jail for life, and—”

“And how much sleep have you lost thinking about this?” he asks you with a sigh as he brings his mug up to take a sip. 

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you say to him, “I…would just rather err on the side of caution. It’s a small town, people talk. And sometimes those people know the law.” You shudder.

“Who the fuck is out there that would be so pissed about us getting married just so you can help out your sick mom?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker downwards slightly in consideration. You can think of one person, at least. And when you look up at him, you’re surprised to see there’s a similar look on his face, as if he could think of a particular one person too. But before you can dwell more on the expression on his face, he grabs the paperwork in front of you and looks through some of it. “You should get started on your paperwork. Higurama filled most of mine out for me already, so you’re the one he’s waiting on.”

You groan and stretch your arm out across the island counter, then lay your head on your upper arm. “Sigh, why couldn’t he have done that for meee tooooo.”

“Probably because he doesn’t know you?” Gojo snorts. He’s silent for a moment as he takes another sip. You can’t see his face. “So,” he starts, “I mean. If we’re going to make this believable, which, to be honest, I don’t think a single person in this neighborhood would find us getting married believable, but still, if we were to try making it believable, wouldn’t it make sense for us to, uh, I don’t know, live together? Like what regular married couples do.”

“I am appalled you would even suggest that.”

“It’s going to look like we’re just faking it if we don’t at least cohabitate together,” he tells you.

“We can’t do that,” you sigh, “I bet you’d try to touch me inappropriately.”

“What???” 

“Yeahhh, I don’t know, you just—...you just seem like a guy with very little self control.”

“...y’know what? This is over. I’m calling off this engagement,” he says, and he walks over to the dining table with his coffee cup in hand and you lift your head up off your arm in a panic.

“Wha–...no!! Wait!!” you say, grabbing all the paperwork off the island and bringing it to the dining table where he’s taken a seat. “Please marry me. I need it so bad.”

“Woah,” he says, looking up at you, and there’s a darker glint to his eyes. “You need it so bad? Can you say that again?”

You curl up the papers in your hands into a makeshift hollow pole and whack him across the head with it. “This is exactly why I think you would touch me inappropriately.”

He grumbles slightly as he nurses the spot you whacked him with two of his fingers rubbing the area, and then he fixes his hair with a comb of his hand through it. The sleeve of his shirt drops a little from the movement, and you can see the muscles of his arm flex, then your eyes are quickly darting away so he doesn’t catch the line of your gaze on him. What the fuck. That was weird. You blame ovulation. 

“Alright, fine,” he says, and he grabs the papers out of your hand, “also don’t bend these. It bothers me.” 

You circle back to the kitchen to grab your abandoned coffee cup, and then bring it to the dining table to sit down with him at it. He places your half of the papers in front of you. You glance down at the first few boxes to fill out, and you already feel like giving up.

You glance up at him for a distraction. “Aren’t you going to ask me how long I want you to be married to me for?” you ask him.

“Uh, how long do you want me to be married to you for?”

“Forever,” you say. To scare him.

“Yeah, right.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. 

You sulk because it didn’t scare him. “Six months.”

“More plausible.”

“Really,” you say earnestly, “six months.”

He looks up at you now, a curious expression on his face. “Why specifically six months?”

Your eyes find the color of your coffee fascinating once again. “I don’t want to put my mother in hospice for too long. I’ll miss her,” you say, “it’s just…something I’m trying out for now. And to just get a bit of a caretaking break, and also so I can pick up more shifts at the hospital to work on paying off my debt. It’s just…temporary.”

His shoulders roll back once and he sits up a little straighter, holding up one of the pieces of paper to study it better while he clicks his pen. “Alright. Whatever works for you.”

You twiddle with your hands again, blinking a little in consideration as a few moments pass by. “Uh…about living together. That’s fine. I suppose.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. But no touching,” you point at him with a strict finger.

He tilts his head back up to the ceiling in annoyance. There’s a roll in the muscles of his throat as his jaw goes slack. You squirm in your chair a little. Ovulation, you think. 

“I’m not going to touch you, y/n,” he assures you when his chin tips back down. You just stare at him for a few seconds as he seems to be in thought about something, and then his eyes meet yours. “Whose house are we going to live in?”

“Mine,” you say, “yours looks like a shitty catalog. It’s lame.”

“True,” he says, “yours feels homey. I like that.”

You’re a little taken aback by his words, and then purse your lips together. Your sort of go-to thanks expression reserved for him. “So, are you gonna sell your house then?”

“Huh? No way,” he shakes his head, “I’ll just see if I can rent it out for now.” He shakes his head even more. “I mean, god no, I wouldn’t be caught dead selling a house. Not with these market conditions. You know how much it’s already risen in equity within just the past few months alone? In five years from now—”

While Gojo continues to drone on about the lunacy of not holding onto property in this housing market, your eyes widen slightly at his words, like your body realizes a truth to what he’s saying before your mind does.

And then that’s when it hits you.

How you can help pull yourself out of debt.

You slam your coffee mug down on the table with a little more fierceness than you probably should’ve.

“Hey,” he scolds you, “can you be careful with that?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you say, ignoring him, “we’re gonna live in yours.”

“Huh?” he responds, “...but I thought you said mine looks like a catalog.”

“A shitty catalog.”

“Did you need to specify?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you tell him, with resolve, “because I’m gonna sell my house.”

He sits up a little straighter at your words. “Like, the house next door?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He sighs. “Were you even listening to me? It’s so much more worth it to–”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, “I need the money now. Not five years from now.” Your eyes glance down at your hands, and your tone becomes quiet. “I…I don’t even know if my mom has five years left to live.”

A silence settles in the room, and you see in your periphery that Gojo’s stiff and still, like he’s barely allowing himself to breathe as if you’d find it abrasive, and when you look over at him, his expression is soft.

“I know,” he says. “It sounds like a plan.”

“Will you help me sell it?” you ask him. “I’d…need a realtor.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees.

“Okay…” you say, and take a sip of lukewarm coffee, as if you haven’t just decided on an extremely major life decision. “Um. I’ll go get the paperwork then. From my house.”

“Oh. Right now?” he asks you, and he leans forward in his seat a little to get a closer look at your face. “I mean, don’t you want some time to think about it before putting it on the market? We can wait for a little bit.”

“No. That’s okay,” you say, standing up from your chair, “I’ll…go get the paperwork.”

He nods at you slowly, but his eyes are observant, and you ignore it to keep up the momentum of this decision that was definitely the right decision by all means and one that you should not be hesitating on at all as it is such an epiphany that can help clear your debilitating financial burdens. 

“Drive safe,” he says to you when you grab your purse off the coffee table in the family room.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

The outside air is breezy, it’s a nice day with the sun shining down and sparkling off of sprinkler dew drops on overgrown grass, and you hop across with a pep in your step as you make it to your house next door. You’re always quiet when opening the door, because you never know when your mom is sleeping or not, and since her bedroom is downstairs, she’s privy to noises. Once you’re inside, you check to make sure she’s sleeping with a small creak open of her door, only to find that she’s sitting on her rocking chair and looking through a box of paintings.

Your heart twists at the sight, and you gently knock the door with your knuckles.

She glances up at you, and you can always tell from just the look in her eyes if she recognizes you or not. Because they’re warm and gentle when she does, but they see right past you to the wall when she doesn’t.

“Hello,” she says, “can I help you?”

You come up to her and kneel down beside her, placing a hand up on the rocking chair arm rest while she looks down at you.

“Hi, mom. It’s me. Your daughter,” you gentle reintroduce yourself. It’s what her neurologist suggested you do anytime she can’t remember you, but it rips away a piece of your soul each time.

Her eyes still see past you, abstract, empty with no feeling as she wraps her head around your words. “I am no one’s mother,” she tells you, tone sounding sharp and like she’s a moment away from terror.

“That’s okay,” you quickly remediate, feeling hollow inside from her words but you always had to be the sane one, so you direct her attention to the box in her lap. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, I just found these paintings!” she exclaims. “I thought they were wonderful. Do you know who drew them?”

You smile up at her. “You did.”

“Me?” she blinks at you. The wrinkles in her forehead crumple with surprise, “oh, no, dear, I could not paint such things with detail. Look at me!” She holds her hand up. “My hand is trembling!”

She’s getting weaker. You make a mental note to bring it up to her doctor.

“You used to hold a paint brush like it was just an extension of your hand,” you tell her, picking up one of the paintings out of the box, “you were an art teacher, mom.”

“Don’t call me mom,” she says to you, that sharp tone from earlier cutting through to your soul. “I am no one’s mother.” Her eyes shimmer with a light sheen of tears.

You stare at her, brow pinching together with hurt, but you bite back the part of you that wants to beg her to remember you, to take one close look at you, and see you with warmth and not emptiness. But she sees past you all the same.

“Can you do something for me?” you whisper to her.

“Yes?” she asks.

“Could you please lay down? You need some rest.”

“Are you my nurse?” she asks.

You breathe in deep. “Yes.”

“Am I…” she glances briefly at her reflection in the vanity mirror, her eyes flitting up to the head scarf on her head that covers the absence of hair, “am I sick?”

You exhale. “Yes. You need rest.”

“Oh…” she acknowledges, “why, yes. I do feel…a little frail.”

“I know,” you comment, and you put the box down on the floor then help her up onto her feet slowly by holding onto her arm, and you guide her to sit on the bed and take her medications. She then lays down, and you nod at her reassuringly before you head out the door and close it behind you.

Your lip trembles with the threat of a sob as you stare straight forward at the wall in the dimness of the hallway. But a harsh bite to the plush of it ceases the quiver.

You make your way up the stairs to go grab that binder you had with the mortgage and house information, plus some of your recent utility bills. Except the binder is hard to locate, and you’re rummaging through the cabinets in your closet, the drawer of your nightstand, you’re even looking underneath the bed. But when you lift your head up from under it, still kneeling on the carpet, and glance at the wall, you notice something.

48’’ eight yrs. what a big girl! 

46’’ seven yrs. big jump

41’’ six yrs.

37’’ five yrs. my little princess

…

..

–all written in graphite pencil, scribbled up the wall where you would stand tall against as a kid, your mom marking your height at every birthday. And your eyes start to well with tears. 

This was your childhood home. With magical corners tucked away where you used to play hide and seek with your dad, with your old bedroom you used to play in with dolls and have tea parties with all your stuffed animals. There’s still a stain of fruit juice on the carpet underneath the rug that you never told your mom about because you knew she would be mad at you and would scrub it out, but it was in the shape of a heart and when you were a kid, you thought that meant you would find your prince charming some day. This house holds so many memories, like birthday parties and Christmas Eve and the sunflower patch in the backyard where you laid Sniffles to rest.

And it holds the familiarity of you that seems to be slipping through your mother’s fingers with each passing day, all those memories you created with her now solely yours to keep and no longer to share. But you realize at this moment that you’re not alone. This house still holds those memories with you.

Your eyes flicker to the graphite pencil marks on the wall again, and the tears flow freely.

In the moments where she cannot remember that you are her baby, this house remembers for her.

Your sleeve wipes at the dampness on your cheeks.

But it’s never enough, is it? And it’s never that easy, either. Life was never that easy, and you don’t always have the choices you might think you do.

You find the binder, and grab all the utility bills too, and head downstairs. You pass by your mother’s room with softness and sleuth, and guilt in your heart when you realize what you’ve chosen to do. There’s no pep to your step when you make it back to Gojo’s.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sooo,” Gojo says, after about twenty minutes of looking through all the house paperwork in the binder at the dining table, “your mom transferred ownership of the house to you as a gift deed when she was diagnosed?��

“Mhm,” you say.

“She paid off quite a bit of it,” he comments as he looks through banking statements, “but still not enough to pay off your medical debt, unfortunately.”

You sigh. “I know. It was never really a house she could afford anyways. She just received it from the divorce, and I remember we were supposed to downsize, but…she didn’t want to.”

“I see,” Gojo comments, “well, it’s alright, it would still help you a lot for sure. How many years are left for your solar panel lease?” He has a pen in hand and a custom realtor notepad in front of him with his messy handwriting all over it. 

“It’s new,” you say, “still got thirty years left.”

“Jeez, okay. How much per month?”

You scavenge through the bills on your table. “Ummm um um ummm…….”

“You should really…get more organized.”

“You should really mind your fucking business.” You find the bill. “$285 per month.”

“Okay,” he scribbles it down, “does it offset your electricity bill?”

Your shoulders sulk. “A little bit.”

“Yeah, it might scare some buyers away.”

You sigh. “Oh and then the HOA too.”

“HOA?” he looks up at you with a puzzled expression on his face. “We don’t have an HOA in this neighborhood.”

“We don’t?” you blink at him. “Then who have I been sending $195 dollars to every month?”

“…….....you’ve seriously gotta be some special kind of stupid.”

After panicking for five minutes while checking your credit cards for fraudulent activity, Gojo gets done cutting up an apple for you. 

“Here,” he says, sliding the plate to you, “since you look like you’re about to faint. Knowing you, it’s probably just low blood sugar.”

You dramatically sigh and sink in your chair. “I can’t believe I spent the last three years paying an HOA that doesn’t even exist…”

“Hey, on the bright side, there’s some dude out there on an exotic vacation that’s very thrilled by your idiocracy right now.”

You shoot him a look. And then you hang your head low to drink your extremely cold coffee that you were still nursing, before downing it all in one go. Your eyes catch the marriage paperwork that Gojo was reviewing earlier, and you see Higurama’s pre-filled in information that he typed onto the papers before printing them for him. 

“Hm,” you hum, “it says here that you’ve been married before. You might want to get that fixed before we submit these.”

He stands up from the table, two of his fingers hooking onto the handle of his coffee cup, and he glances into yours to make sure it’s empty, briefly flicking his eyes to you and you shake your head for no, no more coffee, thanks before he wraps his other two fingers around the handle of your mug as well. The clink of the two porcelain mugs in his hand startles you a little as he walks past you to the kitchen sink. “There’s nothing to fix about that,” he says, his tone level and easy, “it’s true. I’ve been married before.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you quickly twist your torso in your chair to stare at him. Or at least, the back of him as he turns the faucet on and begins to rinse out coffee mugs. 

Married? Before? There are so many questions swimming through your head right now, ones that you desperately want answers to, biggest of all perhaps being now who the fuck would actually want to marry him??? for real??? you’re telling me this self obsessed dork proposed to a real life woman with a pulse and she actually said ‘yes’ to him??? who was this woman, and which psych ward did he find her from??? 

But he’s so quiet from where he stands, broad shoulders less pushed back like they usually are, and something tells you he wouldn’t entertain any of those questions from you right now. A glance at the paperwork, though, tells you the divorce was recent. Less than a year ago. Around the time he moved in next door. 

He still has his back facing you, and you try to sneakily catch a glimpse at more info under the Wife section on the prior marriages form. You can see the paper says maiden name: Inoue and you’re just about to sneak a peak at the first name when—

“You want to stay for dinner?” he asks when he turns around, leaning back against the sink counter. “I’m ordering pizza tonight.”

You’re surprised by the sudden invitation, and shuffle the papers over one another again. “Oh–that’s…that’s okay.” You glance at the clock he has hanging on the wall. “I’ve got work in a couple of hours, so…I should really get going. Have a few errands to run before then.”

“Okay, so, we’ll…talk later?”

“Yeah, later,” you stand up from your chair, and for some reason, the air feels a little heavier to you now. “Uh…” you start, awkwardly scoffing a little, “wow. Bachelor life again, then, huh? Probably just–...probably just beer and pizza every night?”

He purses his lips together, humoring you with a small laugh that comes out as a scoff through his nostrils. “No. Not really. I only order pizza when I close a sale on a house. My way of celebrating.”

“Oh,” you respond, “I see.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says.

“I live next door,” you remind him.

His eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Right.”

“H-Hope the traffic’s not too bad!” you joke.

His laugh comes more genuine now. “You’re stupid.”

You head towards the door, and when he opens it for you, there’s a chill of air outside and it’s darker now, hues of dark gray, purple and a slight orange still present on the horizon paint the sky and you step outside then turn on your heel to face him.

“Um. Congrats, by the way. On the sale,” you tell him, “enjoy your night. And I’ll see you this weekend?”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “What’s happening this weekend?”

“We–” you scoff, “we’re getting married this weekend?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, tense, “right, yes, see you this weekend. For marriage. Of us.”

You roll your eyes and make your way down the concrete pavement that leads its way to his house, and leads its way away from it too. And when you walk back to your house, it’s not with a sulk, but it’s not with a pep in your step either. You just feel…neutral.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“So, tell me about this fake husband of yours,” Hana says, leaning against your work-on-wheels as you attempt to catch up on charting notes with 4 hours and 15 minutes and 53 seconds left on your shift (it’s not like you were counting though).

“Yeah, in a sec,” you mumble as you punch in keys.

6/2/2024 0344: patient placed on 5150 hold on 5/31 at 1745, continually monitored by ED tech. all objects have been removed from pt’s room to prevent any danger to self or others. however patient accessed hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall at roughly 0320 and ingested all the hand sanitizer. notified MD of toxic ingestion, follow up plan is to coordinate care with poison control. no further orders at this time

“Okay, what were you saying?” you look up at Hana again and rub the tired out of your eye with a balled up hand, along with all the mascara. 

“Your fake husband!! Tell me about him!!” she chirps, shaking your work-on-wheels in excitement and the blur of your computer screen makes you feel dizzy.

“Shhhhh,” you hiss at her, “keep your voice down when we discuss illegal activities.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why are you always so paranoid? I’m already sick and tired of you charting incessantly every five seconds to save yourself from medical lawsuits that you haven’t even been accused of.”

“In a medical lawsuit, the chart is the law, Hana,” you say eerily with a shiver, and her words remind you to continue your detailed charting. “Never forget that.”

She sighs. Her gaze travels across to the other end of the emergency department, and you assume she’s staring at the asses of the EMT boys again, so you glance over your shoulder too. 

Except instead, you see the worst person on the planet.

Well, second worst as of right now.

The worst person title was reserved for someone else.

Approaching from down the hall is Yuna, your ex-best friend, a bounce in her step as she walks with a sort of allure as her hips rock side to side, her mile-high ponytail swaying in beat with the rhythm as well, and the ashy blond highlights in her hair hypnotize anyone she waltzes by. 

She was the kind of nurse that all the other nurses are jealous of. Always has cute little accessories and stickers on their badge, is wearing the fancy FIGS scrub sets that hug her sporty curves in all the right places, paired with those little shoes with the ankle socks, and she most definitely gets her water goal in for the day because she’s always sucking on the straw of her periwinkle Stanley cup around the ED all night just like she sucked the cum out of your boyfriend of seven years just twenty-four hours after the two of you had broken up–

“y/n,” she casually calls your name, leaning her elbow up on the cubicle divider of the nursing station. “It’s time for you to take your break. I’ll watch your patients.”

“I’m not taking my break,” you say, trying to relax the grit to your teeth which makes your eye twitch out of frustration instead. “Now get the fuck away from me before I call a Code Black.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes and smacking loudly on her gum. “Yaga said you have to take your thirty tonight. Something about how you haven’t clocked out for a break in more than two months and the hospital could get sued for that.”

“The hospital has way bigger cases they should be biting their nails about getting sued over,” Hana snorts just to butt in on conversation.

“C’mon,” Yuna says, her fingers reaching out to touch the handle of your work-on-wheels, purposefully stretched so that you can eye the perfect sparkly manicure to her nails. You curl your fingers into the skin of your palms to hide your gel polish that’s long started to scrape off. “Go clock out.”

“I’d rather die than listen to a single fucking thing you tell me to do,” you tell her, plain and simple.

“y/n!” a loud masculine voice calls from the other end of the Emergency Department, and all three of you visibly shrink a little in your stances out of fear. Head nurse Yaga. “Take your break, or I’ll be damned to let you set another foot in this hospital!!” he’s yelling at you all the way from the entrance to the CT scanner.

“But–”

“Now!!!!!”

Your eyes flicker to Yuna, who has an amused look on her face and a tilt to her head, and then you’re grumbling before logging out of your computer then stepping away from it. “Draw a CBC & chem on Beds 24 and 28 at 4 AM sharp,” you grumble to her, and she just gives you one of those tight-skinned smiles. 

The break room is empty, with shades of beige on the walls and even more depressing shades of gray on the lockers. There are all sorts of things pasted on the walls, like photos from staff Halloween and Christmas parties, drawings that pediatric patients have made in appreciation of their nurses, and employee information that Yaga’s constantly shoving in everyone’s faces. 

Okay, the backstory with Yuna. Pretty simple. You two had been best friends since high school, like inseparable best friends. Y’know, sneaking out late at night to use fake IDs at the bar, cover for the other when you’re busy losing your virginity to your high school boyfriend in the most dishonorable way possible, rooming together in college, sobbing and crying through all of nursing school together, ride or die type of friendship that you think you’d only find once in a lifetime. Except turns out your best friend, who you’d considered a sister, had eyes for your boyfriend since you started dating him in college, and the second that dickwad dumped you, you catch her sucking him off in the back of his Toyota Camry when you go to pick your stuff up from his place. Yeah, ouch. You lost the two closest people in your life, all in the matter of twenty-four hours, so pardon yourself for being a bit bitter about it. 

But being bitter is the coping mechanism. The real way you feel comes in the form of tears prickling in your eyes and the pain in your throat as you try to swallow away the knot that’s suffocating you from the inside out. A type of loneliness that leaves you stranded even in a room full of people. But at the very least, this room is empty, so no one has to see the crack in your resolve.

There’s no time on a thirty-minute lunch break to have a full mental breakdown, so you sparsely wipe at your tears and head back to your shift.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

If you want to know who actually holds the worst person on the planet title right now, well, you run into him on a Tuesday afternoon while on a grocery run after you just woke up from barely sufficient post night shift sleep. Bitter and drugged by Melatonin was not a state of being you needed to be in right now, but you’re out of orange juice and you’re having Vitamin C withdrawals which warrants a trip to the store. Unfortunately, the town only has one grocery store, which means you were bound to run into pestering ex-boyfriends at least once every full moon. 

“Get the fuck out of my way, Choso,” you snarl at the man who’s walking backwards ahead of your grocery cart, trying to stop you in your tracks so you’d just chill out and listen to him for a second.

“Can you just chill out and listen to me for a second?” he asks you, irritation evident in his voice like you’re being the difficult one here.

“I already told you that I quite literally never want to see your stupid ugly face ever again for as long as I live,” you say, and you ram your grocery cart forward with so much force the metal hits his knees and he doubles over the basket indignantly with a groan.

He seems like he’s had enough of you evading him, so he jams his foot under the wheel to keep you from moving forward, and you’re scowling at him and struggling against his foot-stop but to no avail. 

You briefly consider abandoning your cart all together and just bee-lining for the exit, but he’s a cop, so he’d easily be able to tackle you to the ground if you tried.

“What do you want?” you snarl, impatiently tapping your foot with every miserable passing second spent in his presence. 

“I just–” He sighs, “I just want to talk. And to know how you’re doing. You won’t pick up any of my calls.”

“Huh?” You blink at him. “I’ve had you blocked for the past two weeks. You shouldn’t even be able to call me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?...who have I been dialing then?” 

“Fuck if I know,” you shrug, and you use his moment of confusion to swerve your cart off to the side and make your way down the refrigerator aisle. Ohhh, dulce de leche gelato sounds nice, and it’s on sale. You grab a jar. 

Choso’s trailing behind you as you eye price tags and sale signs in the open chill of the yogurt section. “Babe–”

“Don’t–” you immediately cut him off, spinning fast on your heel and he stops himself just in time from crashing right into you. You hold your index finger up in the air between the two of you with a clench to your jaw so tight it feels sore, and through gritted teeth you say, “don’t call me babe.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s habit.”

Indeed, habit. Seven years of him calling you babe, or baby, or boobie (idk don’t ask). Your favorite though? Babydoll. He’d always call you that when he’d make sweet, sweet love to you while you were wearing his favorite flimsy little piece of lingerie–babydolls. Even now, the memories have your cheeks feeling hot. But he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore, and he doesn’t get to fuck you anymore, or talk to you anymore, or breathe in your general direction anymore, because he betrayed you. He wasted your time, and then he betrayed you.

Seven years of your sexual prime, where you could’ve been fucking hunky firefighters and bisexual Europeans, wasted on a man you weren’t even going to marry in the end anyways. Now you’re pushing thirty, and the idea of having to date again makes your skin crawl with anxiety that turns into fury because your doom is all caused by the man in front of you.

Whatever, forget about the sex and the impending loss of a woman’s novelty within society for a second. You loved him. A part of you still loves him. You wanted to marry this man. You thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with this man. Little sheriff deputy’s wife, Mrs. Kamo, the perfect number of letters to get on a bejeweled license plate. You had envisioned all the cute little quotes of adoration that would be imprinted on your wedding reception’s custom-made doily napkins with everyone that’s ever meant anything to you sitting at the table, ready to celebrate the love that you thought was real and true and brave and strong and one that would last forever.

But he abandoned you when you were at your lowest. And he fell into the arms of the one person you thought you could turn to crying when the relationship crashed and burned in the first place. And the problem with living in a small town is that everyone knows everybody’s business, so now you’re just the woman that wasted her youth on a man that played her like a broken fiddle. Utterly heartbroken, and humiliated. 

So, yeah, he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore.

“Listen here, asshole,” you say, stabbing him in the chest with your finger, so he can feel even a fraction of the pain you’ve felt in the past three weeks, “I couldn't care less if you live today, or die tomorrow. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me alone. Or I’ll file for a restraining order.”

“Really?” he says, brows pulled tight together in disbelief, like he just can’t understand what he’s done to make you act this way, and quite frankly, that only makes it sting even worse, “after everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to throw away the past seven years?”

“What the fuck are you saying?!” you all but snap at him, and an elderly couple that’s passing by flinches a little from the noise and you wince in apology before glaring at Choso again. Your voice is hushed this time. “You’re the one that broke up with me, but I’m the one that’s throwing it all away??”

He purses his lips together, and you notice how dark the circles under his eyes are. He shuts them tightly and leans back away from you, which makes you realize how much he was leaning into your space just a second ago. “I know that we…aren’t dating anymore. But, I mean, c’mon, y/n, it’s me. Just because we’re not together anymore, doesn’t mean that I don’t still…care. I want to know how your mom’s doing, and how treatment has been for her, and–” he glances up at the ceiling briefly, as if to mislead you into thinking that the next thing he says is just as nonchalantly desired as the other things he listed, “and I want to know how you’re doing, too.”

“You don’t deserve to know how I’m doing. Continue to wallow in your pathetic self righteousness, or go run with your tail between your legs to that two-faced rat I used to call a best friend. Either way, I don’t give a damn,” you say, in a way that very much sounds like you give a damn unfortunately, and spin on your heel to continue pushing your cart down to the juice section.

“Yuna and I–” you hear him say behind you, and just the mention of her name on his tongue makes your heart ache in your chest, to the point you need to place a flat palm over it just to alleviate the pain, “I–...I broke things off with her yesterday.”

Fuck. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info.

“Okay? Whatever,” you barely manage to say.

He’s silent for a moment behind you. The wheels of your cart squeak as they roll. 

“I mean, we’re not together anymore. I’m not seeing her anymore,” he clarifies, as if he didn’t believe you heard him right the first time.

“Cool,” you comment, tone colder this time, since you had the practice round. 

“You don’t–” Choso starts, a rattle of hurt and confusion in his voice, “you don’t care about that?”

“Nope.” 

He reaches out to grab your wrist, and the contact burns through your skin, like something so familiar yet so foreign. You turn your head to look at him. 

“I…” he starts, and you can see his chest rising and falling with more intensity. Oh god. Please. Please don’t say it. You’re not sure you can handle hearing it. “I really miss you.”

Damn it, he said it.

Your posture relaxes slightly when you take a long look at him. You finally notice his hair has gotten longer in just the three weeks you’ve been apart, layered locks curling at the end of his neck, and it’s the first time you’ve noticed such a small detail because you were so used to spending everyday with him. He spent most of the week at your house, since the two of you could never formally move in with one another after your mother was diagnosed and it was easier for him to come by to yours so you could continue to keep an eye on her. There’s no option to live on your own and start your own life when you’re taking care of someone sick. They become your priority, not yourself, but you’d still make every single sacrifice you’ve made for your mother over and over again in a heartbeat if you had to relive the past five years. 

But that meant that you never had a real and true chance to live the life that you wanted with Choso. A place just for the two of you, lived in intimate solitude and not with the cries of your mother down the hall when she feels too sick to get up out of bed or when she cannot remember her own name. But you had never been this far apart from him to where you notice his hair is an inch longer than it was the last time you saw him. He was never that far away, as he is now. And you’ve just now realized it.  

“I don’t,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat and your voice quivers ever so slightly when you speak, “I don’t care that you miss me.” You take a deep breath. “I’m getting married this weekend.”

His face entirely relaxes, like a calm before the storm, before it twists with so much confusion and incredulity and shock and–was that horror on his face?

“What?” he practically spats out, “it’s only been three weeks since we broke up!”

“Uhh,” you glance up at the ceiling of the store, just in time for an employee to make an announcement on the overhead for a manager at checkout lane 2 please, and then you glance back down at him, “I was having an affair while we were dating.” An easy lie. 

He scowls. “Yeah fucking right. There’s no way you’d cheat on me.”

His words burn bitter. The fact that he couldn’t even fathom you hurting him the same way he hurt you makes you clench your teeth. Because he knew you were better than he was, and that you were too good for him, and yet he still wasted your honor.

His friends, who used to be yours too, have probably fed him lies since the breakup. Like it’s okay, man. You broke up with her before you got involved with someone else. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But you say bullshit to all of that. Because after seven years of being together, you can’t just cold turkey a relationship like that to sleep with someone else, and then claim it’s not cheating. Technicalities like that were no vindication if the betrayal hurt all the same in the end. Because it still felt like you got cheated on regardless.

“Whatever. I don’t need to explain myself to you,” you tell him, “I’m getting married this weekend, so I really don’t give a damn about anything between us anymore. It’s over.”

“Who are you marrying?” he asks, suddenly breaking a sweat over the news like he’s starting to suspect you’re actually being serious.

“My neighbor.”

His face twists with disgust. “Old man Jenkins? He’s eighty-four years old.”

You roll your eyes. “Not the one on my left, you idiot. My neighbor to my right.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up in a ridiculing smirk, and the sight of it makes your skin crawl. He scoffs. “There’s no way. You hate that guy.”

“It’s true. I’m marrying him.”

“Seriously??” He guffaws at you, leaning in closer to you and you lean away until your back is resting on the handle of your shopping cart. “The obnoxious realtor I once heard you talking in your sleep about how much you want to murder him and then dump him in a lake?”

“What?! I talk in my sleep?!” you gasp.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You have for years.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?!”

He looks annoyed. “Because you’re such a hypochondriac. You would’ve thought you had a brain tumor or something, and I’d have to deal with the paranoia that follows suit.”

“Choso,” you say to him with a strict tone, jutting your hip out to the side in preparation to scold, “my mother has Alzheimer’s, which is genetic, and I was having an abnormal neurological symptom for years which has studies to show is an early indication of dementia and you just chose not to tell me because you didn’t want to be annoyed?!”

“See?” he gestures to you, “you’re doing it right now. How did we go from just sleep talking to ‘I might have dementia’?” 

“We,” you point between you and him, “are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever getting back together. If there’s one thing you can pull through that stupid skull of yours, make it that.”

“Excuse me,” you hear a tiny voice squeak out, and you turn to your right to see a little kid trying to push past the two of you to grab a box of GoGurt in the Yogurt section. You move your cart forward by bumping it with your butt to get out of the kid’s way, and Choso circles around to the front of your cart before you start moving forward again. Like he’s literally stopping you from moving on from him. 

“You’re lying about marrying this guy,” Choso says like it’s a fact. In typical cop gaslighting fashion. “You’re just saying that to make me jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m just that hot and gorgeous that I made a man fall in love with me in three weeks.”

“He’s in love with you?” he asks.

“Duh, he wants to marry me. When you dumped me, I found comforting solace in my next-door-neighbor, and we fell into bed with one another, and now he feels the obligation to provide for me for the rest of my life. What’s so hard to believe about that? You didn’t find abrupt matrimony odd when we binged all three seasons of Bridgerton two months ago.”

“That show is set in the fuckin’ regency era,” he hisses at you, “look around. There’s plastic bags of Hot Cheetos with Red 40 in them everywhere. Does this look like the 1800s to you?”

You have to be careful with him. He’s a cop, who could arrest you for medical insurance fraud, and would also have a personal vendetta against your marriage because boo hoo he misses you. But yes, he was right, you did want to make him jealous, and you just can’t help it.

“Well, me and him have a love that no one else can understand, so suck it. I’m marrying him, and he’s super into me, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me, and he desperately wants to put babies in me, and–”

“And where’s the ring he gave you, then?”

Fuck. You briefly flick your gaze down to your left hand and note the daunting absence of a shiny diamond on your ring finger. Note to self, Gojo needs to buy you a ring.

“I left it at home,” you mumble.

“Uh-huh, as all newly engaged women who have been waiting for a ring all their life would do.”

That pisses you off. Because you were waiting your whole life for him to put a ring on your finger, and he never did. 

“Go fuck a fleshlight,” you snarl at him, unfortunately in earshot of the GoGurt kid and his mom shoots you a nasty look, but you’re a jaded woman after everything you’ve been through and you ram your cart into Choso so hard you swear you could’ve cracked his knee caps, and he doubles over in enough pain for you to have the time to leave him stranded there as you push your cart all the way to the end of the store. 

You finally make it to the orange juice section, the one thing you needed, although your cart is filled with things you didn’t need, because that’s always how these grocery runs go. You try to take a few breaths to calm down the fast beating in your heart after that confrontation with Choso. You’re not good with confrontation, even though it might seem like you are, but you’re just putting on a face. Acting strong, when really all you want to do is curl up into a ball and cry. But there are bills to pay, and images to upkeep, and orange juice to replenish. 

Your hand reaches out for the handle on the refrigerator door, but just before you curl your fingers around it, another hand beats you to it. It’s a large and masculine hand, with veins disappearing into the cuffed felted fabric of a suit jacket, and the knuckles turn a shade lighter than the olive skin around them when the fingers flex around the handle. 

You glance up at the person standing next to you, who you register towers over you in height. He has long, sleek black hair that shimmers under fluorescent lighting, some of which is tied up and out of his face, while the rest cascades over his back. But there’s tendrils of hair falling over the left side of his face, barely distracting you through the intensity of purple in his eyes when he glances at you.

“Ah, apologies,” he says, and the way he speaks is so calm and gentle, different from the intimidating aura he holds himself with. He retreats his hand from the handle.

“Oh, that’s–” you find yourself stuttering, “...that’s okay.” You grab the handle and open it, the chill rush of the fridge hitting you as your eyes peruse the selection of orange juice cartons while his eyes remain on you. You awkwardly glance at him again. “Sorry, d-did you also need to get orange juice?”

He nods. “Yes, I did.”

Not a man of many words, you think to yourself. Or maybe just around people he’s just met.

Your eyes catch the familiar labeling of your go-to orange juice, the one with no pulp and has added Vitamins D and E (basically the one for children), but you realize there’s only one left. You grab it anyway and put it in your cart. When you glance up at the handsome stranger beside you, there’s a slight look of amusement on his face.

“Seems we both have the same taste in orange juice,” he comments. 

“Oh no,” you say with a small laugh, “I’m sorry. It’s the last one.” Your eyes widen. “You–…you can have it, if you want–”

“Oh, no, no,” he shakes his head, long hair swaying with the motion as he holds his hands up in front of himself, “please. I will just find a nearby store.”

You tilt your head. “Oh there’s no other stores nearby…unless you get on the highway for at least twenty minutes. It’s a…small town.”

His lax expression finally cracks into one of subtle surprise. “That’s interesting.”

“Are you…new to town?” you ask.

He nods with a small smile on his face. “Indeed. Well, just visiting. I’m from New York.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s a long way from here.” You briefly register that he does look like a city man. Upscale restaurants, skyline views, premium outlets. The subtle fragrance of his cologne smells expensive too. “What are you up to while visiting?” You mentally facepalm yourself for asking personal questions, but he seems mysterious and you like peeling the layers back on people like him.

His expression drops, turning almost solemn and his eye contact that was previously very direct is suddenly averted elsewhere, “Just…visiting some old friends.” There is no elaboration.

“Ahh…I see,” you say, picking up on the hint that he has no more words to give you. “Well…I’ll be taking the orange juice…maybe try one with pulp?” you suggest a little cheekily. 

His lips tug upwards in a lopsided smile, one you’d call a smirk if you weren’t so mesmerized to define it as one, “I’ll think about it.”

You hum slightly in polite acknowledgement of him, then push your cart back towards the heart of the store without a word of goodbye.

Odd stranger, who’s good at giving misleading answers. You wonder what life he’s come here to escape. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a bright, picturesque Sunday morning, with children laughing and squealing out on the streets in front of your house as they ride their scooters up hot pavement while their parents catch up on PTA drama on the lawns. You’re standing in front of your full length mirror, trying on dress #3 for your little meeting with the courthouse today. And by little meeting, you mean your wedding. You’re getting married today.

The dress you have on falls to below your knees and has buttons all the way from the hem right up to the base of your neck, where the collared neckline wraps around you like a noose. Suffocating, way too prim and proper, although it’d make your grandma very happy and adored to see you should you show up to church service in it. 

Your bed is cluttered with clothes you’ve thrown across it as you try to find a good dress. Your hands move with impatience as you skim through the rack of your closet for another dress to try on, since you’re starting to push the time a little too much. You’ve only got ten minutes before you need to leave. 

A dress tucked in the corner of your closet catches your eye and you pull it out. It’s a cream-colored milk maid dress with an underskirt to puff out the A-line silhouette, length down to your shins that would be oh-so-flattering with a cute pair of heels. There are small red flowers adorning the pattern, with tiny green leaf details as well. It was cute and sweet and feminine, something you haven’t worn in a long time unlike your usual monotonous hospital scrubs, stained sweatpants and adult onesies.

It was the dress your friend Sana convinced you to buy when you thought you were going to get engaged. In the first two years of your relationship with Choso, you two talked about marriage non-stop. You both had just graduated college when you first started dating, and it felt like your lives were finally starting. At the end of the second year you two had been together for, after Christmas dinner with your family, he pulled you into his arms and you squealed with glee as he spinned you around in your childhood bedroom upstairs and told you how much he wanted to marry you, and that he was going to propose in the new year.

Your mother was diagnosed with cancer in January, and he never brought up marriage ever again. 

He still stayed with you for five years after that though, and swiftly dodged every single question you ever asked him about his impending proposal. For five years, you were fed every excuse in the book. And in hindsight, you feel like an idiot for staying, and for still holding out hope, when what you were really holding onto was heartbreak. The feeling of not being enough, like someone was just tolerating you, and not loving you. It was easy to ignore at times, given how occupied you were with driving your mother to chemotherapy appointments and reading up on books about which diet works best to slow down the development of Alzheimer’s because your mother started showing signs of dementia just two months after the cancer diagnosis. But in those moments of freedom, where you had a moment to breathe, all you could breathe was a suffocating smoke. Because you stopped feeling wanted or loved in between all of it.

But there was a trip he planned for the two of you to Greece. It was after your mother had first successfully gotten into remission. A gasp of fresh air amongst all the pain and suffering, and you could only assume that he wanted to celebrate by taking you on a trip. Sana was convinced he was going to propose to you on this trip, and you wondered if maybe he was just waiting until your mother felt better before he proposed so that the two of you could enjoy being newly engaged without the pressure or worry. Sana took you shopping, and you bought this dress, one that clings to your form in a way that made you feel beautiful. Made you feel wanted. Made you feel worthy of being loved. Because all other parts of yourself had been overlooked and paid no attention, but you thought a dress could save you. 

He never proposed. You left Greece with an extra suitcase of souvenirs, but without a ring on your finger or even a compliment on how beautiful you should’ve looked to him standing there on that beach with this cream-colored dress on, arm wrapped around his. And it was at that point you became numb, and you existed in limbo for the remaining four years of your relationship. Until he finally did what you silently begged him to do, with every sullen look in your eyes when you glanced at him. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, what he did to you. Something you willed him into because you didn’t have the strength to leave, and so he had to.

You hold the dress up to your form in the mirror. It’d still fit you, and it’s far too pretty to have only worn once. But you’ve been numb for so long now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to feel pretty in a dress. You unbutton yourself out of dress #3 and step into failed proposal dress #4, and as you slowly zip up the back of the dress, you’re met with resistance. 

Fuck.

The last thing you need right now is a weight-related meltdown.

You tug up on the zipper even more, harshly, to the point you hear a stitch rip and you gasp and try to do it slowly so as not to completely tear the dress apart. But it’s not fitting. It should fit. You just assume the zip is stuck, or it’s too rigid after years of no wear.

You’re about to do another colossal yank upwards that could potentially dislocate your shoulder when you jump at the sound of your phone chiming with a notification. And then multiple.

“What...the hell…do you want…” you sigh to nobody, swiping your hands across the pile of dress fabric on your bed to find your phone, and when you do, you quickly tap on the screen to see the messages.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Hey, are we still getting married today?

First of all, wild fucking thing to nonchalantly ask.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Your car’s still parked out front, so I wasn’t sure if you’ve left yet. I was just about to leave, and then the thought occurred to me that we should probably carpool?

|| 11:35AM neighbor (avocado tree): But just wanted to verify, are you sure you want to go through with this? You’re not having cold feet? Won’t be a runaway bride? I’m not gonna be left at the altar, wondering where I went wrong?

You roll your eyes, breathing heavily still from the struggle of zipping up your dress.

|| 11:36AM You: yes, we are still getting married. I just can’t zip up my dress for the life of me 

It takes him a whole minute to respond.

|| 11:38AM neighbor (avocado tree): Do you need help?

You blink at your phone screen. Help? What kind of help? Helping you zip up your dress?

You look over your shoulder to the full length mirror, eyeing your back. The dress was zipped up to just above the small of your back, with the rest of it flayed open to reveal the expanse of your skin. Setting your phone down, you roll your shoulders back once and flex your fingers to try again in securing this dress, but to no avail. You curse yourself for not having the flexibility, and to be honest, you’re not even sure if you can take the dress off anymore to get into something else with the way the zipper won’t budge neither up nor down. Well. You’re just going to have to wear this dress for the rest of your life now. A scary predicament.

You pick your phone up again.

|| 11:41AM You: yes

It only takes about two minutes for him to text you that he’s at your front door, a surprisingly considerate gesture considering your mother is sleeping downstairs so it’s good he didn’t ring the doorbell, and you tiptoe your way down and over the creaky floorboards of the stairs to the front entrance. 

You slowly crack the door open only a couple inches, hiding yourself from him behind it as you peek at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, and he glances at his watch. “We’ve got to hurry.”

You nod, and take note of his appearance. He’s wearing a dark fitted navy suit over a white dress shirt, which to your surprise, doesn’t have the top two buttons sluttily undone for once. His suit pants are perfectly tailored to his ankles and you can barely see the exposed fabric of black socks before they disappear into his polished Oxfords. He looks like he’s going to a wedding. Oh wait, he is. 

He raises an eyebrow at you when you refuse to reveal yourself by stepping away from behind the door. Even his hair is particularly kept and proper, swept off to the side slightly in a way that makes him look younger and you feel nervous from the intensity of those eyes, which are usually somewhat hidden by the fringe of his snowy hair, now look at you unwaveringly with no obstruction. You feel like you’re seeing him in a completely new light, and for some reason, it makes you cower behind the door even more. 

“Uh, are you going to let me in?” he asks you, his foot tapping lightly on the welcome! mat. 

“Yes,” you say, but you make no movement to prove your word. 

“y/n,” he says, “we need to get going.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the stained glass window of your front door to release some nerves before hesitantly stepping to the side and pulling the door open all the way, then you’re standing in front of him in full view. You catch a glimpse of the black tie hanging from his neck that’s secured all the way up to the collar of his shirt, before you finally look at his face.

Those striking eyes of his round slowly until he’s looking at you wide-eyed, blinking in some sort of dazed surprise as his gaze eventually sweeps down your entire form to take in the sight of you standing barefoot on wooden floor in your cream-colored dress, and you swear you see the muscles in his jaw jump. His brow furrows like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You–” he starts, that shocked blinking still taking place on his face, and you grasp the fabric of your dress in front of you from the anticipation of what he’ll say, “...you look beautiful.”

A silence settles between the two of you as he continues to roam his eyes all down you like there’s nothing that could stop him from doing it, and you feel heat in your cheeks from his compliment. It’s just a silly little cream-colored dress. One that didn’t look pretty on a beach in Greece, so why would it look beautiful on you  here right now? While you’re standing at the dusty front entrance of a decades old house? He’s bullshitting you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me, you know that, right?” you squeak out, trying to keep your tone level and easy to fight back the raw feeling in your throat, “this isn’t a first look. There are no photographers around to capture your reaction. We’re not actually getting married.”

“But–” 

“Can you just help me with the dress?” you cut him off so he doesn’t say anything else that makes you feel pretty right now.

“...sure,” he agrees, and he steps inside your house. You start to walk upstairs, and he follows suit, and you suddenly feel his eyes on your back so you turn around and walk up the stairs backwards while facing him.

“I don’t understand the concept of first looks anyway,” he says out of nowhere to cut the silence, “isn’t it a bad omen to see your partner before getting married?”

“That’s such an outdated superstition,” you tell him as your feet finally press firmly flat at the top of the stairs. 

One of his feet is placed next to where you’re standing up straight at the top, while the other is still on the third step down. And it’s like he’s kneeling on one knee in front of you as he looks up at you. After a moment of deep breathing on your part, you finally step away from the top of the stairs so he can finish walking up them too.

“I don’t know what happened,” you say to him as you make it to the front of your full length mirror, “I was just trying to zip it up but it got stuck. And it’s not unzipping either.”

He comes up behind you, and you can see in the mirror that he’s put a decent amount of space between the two of you from the way his arms are reached out in front of him just to access the zipper. He tugs up on it.

“Hm. It…” he struggles with it, “it seems…” he yanks again, “jammed?”

“Fudge,” you mutter under your breath (more ladylike perhaps, as opposed to fuck) and you sulk your shoulders. “But will it close at all, do you think?”

He takes a step closer to you, and his cologne has the fragrance of woody oak with undertones of citrus, like something expensive and sophisticated. His hand sweeps your hair off to the side and over your shoulder to the front so he has a better view, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck from the motion and you try to fight the shiver. A glance to the mirror, and you see his eyes are set on the exposed skin. He tugs to pull your dress together, and is able to cross the fabrics. “Yeah, it should. I think just hold your breath for a second? I’m going to try to see if zipping it down helps unjam it.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, and he eyes you in the mirror at the sudden subservience. 

You try to hold your breath as he tugs down on the zipper, and you hear the metallic click when he succeeds in unjamming it before he zips it down just an inch. You can feel the small of your back exposed to cool air from the motion. 

He’s suddenly frozen entirely behind you, the knuckle of his index finger brushing against your skin as he continues to pinch the zipper between it and his thumb. You feel his slow exhale on the back of your neck. You’re too scared to look at his expression in the mirror.

“Sa–” you stutter through a gasp, “Satoru.”

“Sorry,” he says quietly, and then he’s shifting on his feet once before slowly attempting to zip the dress up. 

He’s met with a slight resistance just underneath your shoulder blades. “Hey. Just hold your breath.”

“I’m trying to,” you tell him, almost whining, because it’s hard to stop breathing when your heart is beating fast and it needs the oxygen supply.

“Do you want to try on a different dress?” he asks you.

“No,” you immediately answer him. You’re not sure why, but the idea of wearing this dress for the rest of your life doesn’t scare you anymore. In fact, you never want to take it off.

Your hands twiddle with the flimsy string at your collarbone that you tied to connect the fabric across your chest, and then you realize. “Oh…maybe I need to–” you tug at the end of the string, “undo this? That might make it looser?” You finally glance at the mirror to seek his approval of your suggestion.

His eyes meet yours, and when he sees what you’re referring to, his eyes widen. “But that would–”

“Just don’t look,” you say simply.

You two remain looking at one another in the mirror, and you see his chest heaving slightly through the tightening of his dress shirt against the expansion of his breathing. Like you’re asking the impossible of him.

“Or I’ll kill you,” you say.

He sighs, and his eyes flit down to your zipper again. You swear you feel his hand tremble slightly. “Alright.”

You pull on the end of the string, watching him in the mirror to make sure his eyes don’t wander, and the fabric covering your breasts falls open, but you use a hand to still sparsely cover your skin with the cloth where you can. In the reflection, you see his jaw clench but his eyes remain on the zipper, and only briefly flicker to the bed once. Then he’s zipping up your dress with ease. 

You quickly tie the string above your chest once more to cover yourself up, and then spin to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress and throwing your hair back over your shoulder. It was a snug fit, but at least it still fit. 

He’s a step behind you with his hands shoved in his suit pockets, looking at your face with a slight tilt to his head like he’s studying you in the mirror just as much as you’re studying yourself. And then he pulls his hand out of his pocket to glance at his watch again. “It’s almost noon,” he says. 

“What?!” you bark at him. “We’re fucking late!!! Why didn’t you say anything?!?!”

“Huh??” he baffles. “I’ve been trying to tell you we need to rush this entire time.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you say, pacing your room to find your things in a scurry, picking your purse up and then grabbing your Manila folder of paperwork from your desk, and you try to walk past him to the door when you trip over the five pairs of shoes that you had been trying on earlier, almost twisting your ankle, and you gasp then grab onto his suit jacket for purchase before his arm attempts to reach out to hold you upright but to no avail since you tug on him as you fall straight backwards onto your bed and bring him down with you. 

His hands sink into the soft mattress on both sides of your head, wrists tickled by your hair, as he hovers over you, and your fingers quickly curl into little balls at your chest as you shrink underneath him, looking up at his surprised expression, likely from having to suddenly brace himself from falling right on top of you.

You both look at each other, blinking as you come down from the sudden chaos, and his tie that’s hanging from his neck brushes against your knuckle and falls over your hand to graze the skin above your breasts. His eyes briefly flicker to the sight, and he catches himself only to stare at your lips instead.

Even through thick layers of fabric, you can see the thick curves of the muscles in his arms, pulled taut from how he’s holding himself up over you. And for once, you wish the buttons of his shirt were undone, so you can see what he’s hiding underneath. The hair he had swept up above his eyes now falls freely with gravity, soft tufts that dangle above you and shadow over the blue of his eyes as he looks at you with a furrowed brow that–...that makes him look handsome. 

You must be ovulating.

No, wait, you finished ovulating a couple days ago.

Oh god.

Was your next door neighbor hot this entire time?

There was simply no way. 

You refuse to believe it.

You’re laying still like a deer in highlights, motionless underneath him, before he curls his arm around your waist to bring you up with him as he stands up straight, and you only spend a moment pressed up against him before you get yourself out of his grasp by pushing flat palms against his chest, and then the two of you are in proper distance from one another once again.

“D-Don’t ever do something like that ever again,” you stutter, shimmying your hips slightly to pull the snug fabric down your waist from where it had risen up.

“I didn’t do anything,” he grumbles, and he runs a hand through his hair. Now it looks like it always does, no longer prim in style.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” You slip your feet into one of the pairs of heels sprawled across on the floor, and then you head straight for the door. “You drive.”

You hear him sigh behind you. “Yes ma’am.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

The courthouse is bustling with people when you two arrive but Gojo’s pleasantly able to pull into an open curbside parking spot right in front of the entrance. You’re surprised when he comes around to the passenger side to open the door for you, and you swat his hand away when he offers it to you too, but you probably should’ve taken it, since you almost twist your ankle for the second time today as you step out onto the curb and get used to walking in heels again like a newborn fawn.

“Should’ve taken my hand,” he says to you, smile turned upwards into a smirk as he watches you struggle while he’s a few steps ahead of you.

“Give it to me then,” you grit through your teeth as you wobble, giving up your pride to avoid adding yet another medical bill to the list of debts in your name.

“Nah,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, “too late. Lost your chance.” You curse his entire lineage in your head.

You two make it inside the courtroom, and the first person you look for is Hana, whose head you catch at the front row much to your pleasant surprise since she is your sole witness to sign on the marriage certificate today. But in your study of the room to find her, you notice that there are a lot of other people in here as well.

“Don’t tell me…Did you invite people??” you ask Gojo, grabbing onto his sleeve to get his attention and also for balance, but he doesn’t need to know that latter part.

He glances down at you. “No? Why would I invite people to my fake wedding?”

Your eyes peruse the room once again, and you realize that most of them are just old retired people with nothing better to do on a Sunday than visit the courtroom. Some are elderly couples, eyeing you and Gojo as you two make your way down the aisle with sweetness in their eyes like awwwwwww to be a young couple in love once more <3 while they wait for the judge to call on their hundreds of unpaid parking tickets because they don’t know how to access an internet portal.

“D-Do you have the marriage license?” you squeak out to Gojo, who has now adjusted his walking speed to match yours.

“No, I left it at home,” he tells you in a flat tone. “Of course I brought the marriage license.”

“I was just checking, jeez…” you grumble.

Gojo hands the clerk the folder he was holding in his hand, and you hand in yours too.

Oh god. Your peripheral vision already recognizes him before your brain can, but you see an extremely familiar silhouette standing guard off to the side of the Judge’s bench, and your gaze immediately snaps in that direction.

Choso stands there, in his Sheriff Deputy’s uniform, his thumbs tucked into his vest as he puffs his chest out in assertion of his oh so important duty securing the courthouse on a Summer Sunday from any devastating danger, such as an elderly man not wanting to pay a parking ticket and then proceeding to charge towards the judge at 2 MPH, and you can’t help but roll your eyes from his attitude and scowl at him. Of course he pulled some strings and saw when you were getting allegedly married and decided to show up on that exact day. Whatever. You’ll pay him no mind. As long as he doesn’t speak now.

You and Gojo walk back to the lower desk in front of the Judge’s Bench.

“Ah! y/n, hello my dear, how are you?” the judge calls out to you.

“Hi Judge Jun,” you say meekly with a small wave, your voice echoing in the room, “good, and yourself?”

6/4/2024 1232: Judge Jun is a 72 y/o man with a past medical history of hypertension, hypercholesterolemia, hyperglycemia, GERD, liver cirrhosis and COPD, who endorses a social history of frequent tobacco usage and occasional alcohol consumption. Patient presents to the ED with chief complaint of chest pain, onset two hours ago after he drank three bottles of beer, and—

“Much better since you took care of me last week!” he humphs, patting his stomach.

You snap out of your automatic charting that was droning on in your head on reflex from how many times Judge Jun has shown up to the ED for acute chest pain which almost always ends up just being beer-induced GERD.

“At the hospital!” you clarify, “for taking care of you at the hospital!”

The man laughs heartily from where he sits up at the raised platform bench. “Yes! And Mr. Gojo! Nice to see you as well.”

You flit your eyes to Gojo, like you know him too? He only briefly spares you a sidewards glance before looking back at Judge Jun. “Likewise, sir.”

You postulate he scammed the fuck out of the man into signing a forty-year lease on a condo in the shady part of town, and you’ll leave it at that.

“I have to say, I am a little shocked by this matrimonial partnership!” Judge Jun chimes in. “But do you both swear to enter this marriage under just circumstances? I will need verbal affirmation from you both.”

Gojo raises his hand up in the air to swear on it, and you remember that he’s possibly done this before. Y’know how people have a courtroom wedding before a real wedding, something like that. And maybe that’s why he knows to raise his hand, because you didn’t even know you were supposed to raise your hand until now.

A real wedding. Something you’ve pictured a lot in your head, and so much more different than the arrangement you find yourself in right now. And because the pain of imagining yourself tying the knot with someone is too much right now, especially when the man you thought you were going to marry stands in uniform five feet away from you and probably doesn’t even recognize the dress you’re wearing right now, you glance over to Gojo and you try to imagine what a real wedding would’ve been like for him. Since he’s done it before.

He probably had a tacky wedding, like in a barn with barrels of beer used as tables with barely flickering string lights hung across wooden planks high on a triangular ceiling. The reception and the ceremony likely happened under the same roof, because he seems like the minimalist type, more focused on the feelings behind it and all, and not the grandeur.

Or maybe he was into the grandeur. Maybe he had a wedding on a skyline penthouse in the city, wearing expensive cologne like the one he’s wearing now, and a Dior suit he got custom made because it was a once in a lifetime occasion so why not? The image becomes a little too vivid in your head now, where you can picture this woman he’s marrying too. Pretty, tall just like him, wearing a ball gown white dress. He would’ve told her she looked beautiful, too. He would’ve told her he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. Vows uttered shakingly into the microphone at an altar while the sun is setting far into the sky, shimmering off of high building windows until the air is golden and it reflects off of his and his soon-to-be wife’s face. And when they’ve professed their love for one another, he grabs her by the waist and dips her in a kiss, for the perfect picture against the perfect backdrop in front of all the perfect little people because there probably was a photographer at that event, wanting to capture the moment.

You snap out of the dazed moment when a loud voice calls out your name, and in a shock, you glance back up at Judge Jun who’s looking at you with slight irritation.

“Huh?” you squeak out, and then turn to look at Gojo, who’s got a look of mild concern on his face as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Please swear that this marriage is under just circumstances,” Judge Jun states with a cadence that indicates he’s commanded this of you multiple times already.

“Oh!” you stand up straight, “I—��I’m sorry.” You hold your hand up. “Yes, I swear this marriage is under just circumstances.” Just like Higurama had you practice. He’d be proud. Phew, the hard part was over.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a rather fast blur, and it’s a little awkward when you both have to tell Judge Jun that you don’t have any vows to exchange at the moment when he offers the time for them, but Gojo comes up with some lie about how the real vows will be at our formal ceremony, and Judge Jun seems entirely satisfied and a little too ecstatic by the answer before allowing you two and Hana to sign the marriage certificate.

“And rings?” Judge Jun asks as he peers down through his glasses to the paper he was holding at his desk. “We can now make time for the exchange of rings.”

You’re prepared for Gojo to come up with another lie about how the real rings will be at our formal ceremony, but you see him shuffling with something in his pocket in your periphery. Hm? You glance down at his hip, and you see him pull something shiny out.

He turns to face you, and he holds his hand out to you with an up-facing palm. You blink at him and then glance down at his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then glance down his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then gl—

“Give me your hand,” he says to you, a little hushed and rushed.

“Why???” you ask, baffled.

“So I can put a ring on your finger?” he says, like it’s the most casual thing. Like getting a ring slipped onto your fourth finger is the most casual Sunday for you, when it’s something you’ve dreamt of your whole entire life.

You finally take a long hard look at the ring he’s holding in his right hand. It shimmers with every glint of light in the courtroom off of every angle, no doubtedly precisely cut diamond from a jeweler who really cares about their craft, and you swear you’ve saved a similar looking ring to one of your Pinterest wedding boards before.

You hesitantly bring your hand up and hover it over his.

“Your left hand, silly,” he tells you.

“Oh, right,” you say, and hand him your left one instead.

He holds it in his hand that is much warmer than yours, and it’s so tender, the way he gently slips the ring onto your finger. It fits with ease, perfection actually, and you can’t help raising your hand up in the air, spreading your fingers weakly as you admire the stone now sitting above your knuckle. It’s pretty.

You feel Gojo’s eyes on you, as he’s halted in frame, and you glance past your hand to look at his face. You dislike him. You do. You should. He’s your annoying as fuck next-door-neighbor. So then why does your heart feel like it could burst right now?

A glimmer of silver catches your eye, and you look down at his hands as he slips a silver ring onto his left hand while facing you before he turns to face the front again, signaling the end of the ring exchange, except you didn’t get to put it on his hand. He didn’t give you the chance.

“Alright! Wonderful!” Judge Jun exclaims, whose eyesight is probably too poor to have seen that it wasn’t even a proper ring exchange. “With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

There is scattered applause across the courtroom, a few cheers as well, as you two stand in front of the court of law in holy matrimony.

Judge Jun glances at Gojo. “Well, young man, you may now kiss the bride!”

“Oh—…that—” you stutter, “that’s not necessa—”

“Okay,” Gojo says, more to affirm Judge Jun than in acknowledgement of your protest, and in a series of what feels like just one motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you two him and then he—

He kisses you.

He kisses you like it’s real, like there’s history, like it’s a pure thing meant to last and not something you quite literally put a time stamp on. The kiss muffles the small sound that comes from your throat, your hands held up in the air in some slight surrender before they slowly settle on his shoulders as he bends you backwards over his forearm to deepen the kiss and the cheers surrounding you grow with a fervor that has your cheeks burning red but for some reason you don’t want it to end—

And then he pulls away from you, eyes darting across the features of your face in close proximity as he exhales slowly, like a release, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in this room before he glances at your lips one last time and then he releases his hold on you. You stand shocked, and briefly glance at Choso, who looks like he’s about to burst a fuse off the top of his head.

What.

What.

What?

And just like that, you were married to your insufferable next-door neighbor.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 2]

a/n. thank youuu soooo so much for reading this chapter of ihm!! i’m kinda liking the writing style i’ve adopted for this series, it’s kinda lax n lenient sort of like a stream of consciousness and i hope it doesn’t come of too crass of informal lol i’m just playing around w some writing styles rn. ANYWHO i hope you enjoyed!! btw i picture choso as long-hair choso in any modern au (and not pigtails choso) so if you see me describing his hair in the way that i do, that’s why lol. love you all so much, hope to see you in the next one <3

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@jujutsubaby @secretmoneybearvoid @bunny-lily @httpxxg @v4mpieres

@nanamis-baker @therealestpussyeater @air3922 @13-09-01 @marija4674

@whereflowerswenttodie @geniejunn @bakuhoethotski @77uchiha77 @hellowoolf

@tobaccosunbxrst @possumwho @kittygrimm88 @billiondollarworth @mmeerraa

@reinam00n @semra4 @coltsgf @strawnanamilk @ironhottubstranger

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meme of the chapter:

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #smut #fluff #angst #gojo satoru fanfiction #suguru x reader #choso x reader #long fic #jjk fanfiction #jjk series #romance #fake dating #fake marriage #neighbors au #ongoing series #humor #slow burn #mutual pining #enemies to lovers #gojo x reader series

[juanarc-thethird]

I think Emerald could work for a "I promise we are just going to cuddle" story

We're just going to cuddle, I promise. (Emerald)

Jaune: *Sleeping*

Emerald: Hey Jaune...

Jaune: *Still sleeping*

Emerald: Jaaaaaune...

Jaune: *Still in dreamland*

Emerald: Jaune!

Jaune: *Jumps in place* What?! What happen?!

Emerald: Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up like that.

Jaune wanted to get angry but notices that Emerald looks trouble.

Jaune: It's ok, but why did you wake me up?

Emerald: I had a bad dream.

Jaune: A bad dream? About what?

Emerald: I'd rather not talk about it. But I want to ask you a favor.

Jaune: Oh, what is it?

Emerald: Could I sleep with you? Just for today! If you do not mind. I don't want to sleep alone.

Jaune: Um… I'd like to help you but I don't think it's a good idea. Why don't you ask Nora or Ruby? I think they would be willing to share their bed with you. I mean, a guy and a girl sharing a bed is... well.

Emerald: I understand you, and believe me, I would ask one of them if I could. But the only person I can trust right now is you.

Jaune thinks for a moment.

Jaune: *Sighs* Ok, fine, you can sleep in my bed.

He lifts the covers and Emerald enters. After she covers herself, Jaune turns around. Turning his back on her.

Jaune: Goodnight.

Emerald: Um… Jaune?

Jaune: Hm?

Emerald: Is it possible that you can hug me while we sleep?

Jaune: I'm sorry?

Emerald: We're just going to cuddle, I promise! But it would help me a lot.

Jaune:...

Emerald: Please...

Jaune turns around and hugs Emerald. She is surprised for a few seconds, but then she returns the hug.

Jaune: Don't tell anyone we did this.

Emerald: I will.

Jaune: Good.

Emerald: And Jaune...

Jaune: Yes?

Emerald: Would it be okay if I ask you one more thing?

Jaune: Just say it, at this point I don't think it's any more embarrassing than this.

Emerald: Well...

10 minutes later...

*PLAT!💕PLAT!💕PLAT!💕PLAT!💕PLAT!💕PLAT!💕*

Emerald is lying face down biting the pillow hard. Jaune is on top of her, fucking her while he bounces on her big ass.

Emerald: Fuck~!💕 God, you're so deep~!!💕 Don't stop!!

Jaune: Oh fuck!~💕 Your pussy feels so good~

Jaune puts his hands on Emerald's back for better balance and begins to fucks her hard.

Emerald: OH FUCK!!!~💕 (I pretended to have a nightmare so I could get in his pants, but at this rate I'll become addicted to his cock!!💕) OH GOD!!~💕

Jaune: Fuck!💕 Emerald, I'm about to cum!

Emerald: (*Gasp!* I need to stop him!) Yes, cum inside me!!💕 Fill me up!!💕 (NO! That's not what I wanted to say! If he cums inside I will surely become addicted!)

Jaune: Oh God!! I'm... I'm cumming!!!

*SPLURT!~*

Emerald: YEEESSSSS!!!💕 (NOOOOO!!)

#jaune arc #jaune #rwby jaune #rwby jaune arc #rwby emerald #emerald #emerald sustrai #rwby emerald sustrai #rwby jaune x emerald #jaune x emerald #rwby #shitpost #rwby smut #rwby lemon

[nicromancytarot]

FIRST KISS WITH YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I get for the readings, but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that is just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD TAROT READING

I asked my spirit guides how your first kiss with your future spouse is going to go, pick a picture to find out what they have to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

During the time of your first kiss with your future spouse I feel like you guys will be feeling slightly insecure about the connection and situation you are in with your person, it may be that they don’t seem interested enough, or that you are having doubts about your connection. I see this coming at a time when your relationship (I’m assuming situationship or talking stage) is on the rocks and a little unstable. The kiss is cementing the seriousness of your relationship and it shows each other what you want, that you are one hundred percent ready for each other. You have both the lovers and the two of cups, so I think you two may begin dating after this kiss, as if no words needed to be spoken for you to realise how serious this is to be between you both. The moment this kiss happens, it sweeps you two off your feet, causing everything that has reached crossroad to end, and a new path emerges for you to follow.

The kiss itself will be initiated by the feminine energy, it could seem very random, and it will help either one, if not both of you with your self-love and perception. The kiss will give you answers, I’m assuming it’s quite spontaneous and random, it could happen when the masculine is talking about the future, or something to do with their leadership over something, the feminine will just swoop in with a kiss on random. Again, we have another heavy commitment card, so I don’t think much will be said between you during this kiss, however you will both know that it has elevated your connection.

I see this happening in a place someone doesn’t want to be, I don’t know if the second person was expected to be there, however they came anyways and the person who isn’t happy to be there is super excited to be able to talk and get away with the other. It could be a place of work, somewhere where a lot of people are and there’s lots of conversations. Also could be a party since I see strong energy of talking and aggressive energies.

PILE 2

During the time of the kiss, I see the feminine getting tired of the lack of direction between the connection of the two. There seems to be a lot of untold truths in this connection, and the feminine is tired of being left in the dark. I feel this is due to the masculine’s fear of opening up to people, they may be embarrassed of their feelings, or just nervous that the feminine won’t see them as strong, heavy on the strength, that’s how the masculine wants to be seen. The kiss happens at a time where the two of you are between total commitment and becoming strangers again, where you’re trying to build something, but the masculine keeps getting spooked and pulls back. This is definitely a connection which starts off as a hot and cold one, one second they’re all in, and then the next they pull away. It’s clear this becomes frustrating for the feminine as they just want a clean message without any hidden undertones. I think this will take place right after or during an argument, not one that is incredibly heated, however I see the feminine walking away and the masculine pulling them back and in for a kiss. It’s very spontaneous and unexpected.

The kiss itself is being described as “soul sucking,” it will make you both forget about the prior issues and disagreement between you both, and will bring an end to the confusion. The masculines lips taste like those of uncovered promises and words which they wouldn’t dare let leave, they are spilling their entire, darkest memories and truths into the feminine, letting them know each other inside out. The kiss is hazy, it’s dizzying and you may need to sit down after. It marks the beginning of stability and readiness for one another, your lips on theirs prove that you are ready to become each others.

This could happen outside, somewhere near water, perhaps one or both of you live near a beach or a body of water. I think some people may hear you argue, I did see a parking lot, so it could be right after a date or if you’re friends, then after you mentioned or asked for the answer of what you two were, and the masculine got a little hesitant to answer while walking the feminine to their car, causing the feminine to react and try to call quits to a relationship which had no answers or security.

PILE 3

During the time of the kiss, I think you guys will be in a relationship or at least committed to each other without the full on commitment. If you aren’t already in a relationship with a label, then you will use this first kiss to begin the start of your official relationship. You pile 3’s have very good stability with your future spouse even at this moment, you’re both very clear with where you want this to happen. I’m assuming you’re my pile of instantaneous love. The kiss could have you both laughing afterwards, finding it entertaining rather than passionate or super intimate, one of you may even crack a joke after and then get back to talking about what they were talking about.

I don’t think there’s an initiator in this pile, you both might just lean in while talking about something on the couch, catching your lips in a swift kiss to commit a silent prayer of worship before returning to the conversation at hand, it feels very natural and calming, you may just be watching a movie. This kiss will help you nurture your connection, it may make you feel a lot more comfortable too, since it’s the next big step in the connection. One of you could have had a breakup a while back, and haven’t kissed anyone since, this kiss is almost washing away the taste and touch of the before relationship, immediately associating intimacy and romance with the future spouse, rather than the ex.

I see this happening at a place of comfort, I assume someone’s home, somewhere where you can relax and wind down, and also a place you are somewhat protective of - or maybe they are. So heavy homely energy for you guys. The room could be in a little bit of a mess, and one of you may be embarrassed over the other person seeing such a mess, but the other person really doesn’t care about it.

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile

[thir10th]

hey lovely! can I request a fic where r is feeling insecure with her body lately and emily shows how beautiful she is? fluff w some smut if you feel comfortable :)

Hi anon! your timing couldn't be better. This has been sitting on my drafts for weeks, i kinda hated it, but you just gave me an excuse to get back to it, so thank you for that and for requesting! Hope you like it <3

will you? - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: see the ask. I changed it a bit but the main idea is still there tw: insecure reader, face-sitting, oral sex, body image, tiny bit of angst (blink and you miss it) a/n: this one might be a bit messy but i still enjoyed writing it! like & reblog <3

You throw your bag far away when you enter the hotel room. This case was getting hard, nothing was making sense, and you had been working for the past 14 hours none stop.

You need to ether sleep, eat something, a shower, or an orgasm. Or maybe all of them

but that isn't an option right now, because you're mad at her.

You aren't even sure why you had gotten so upset about it, its not like she had actually done anything, but you were still annoyed.

You were actually mad at yourself, more than at your girlfriend, but her words still resonating on your head wouldn't go away.

Emily's arms wrapping around your waist make you jump, getting you out of your thoughts.

Hugging you from behind, she rests her face on your shoulder, you feel her warm breath on your neck, she kisses your cheek lovingly.

Her arms leave your waist to reach your shoulders, her hands massage your arms which makes you close your eyes in pleasure, relying on her touch. Maybe staying mad wasn't that worth it.

"You know what i think you need?" she moves a strand of hair to kiss the curve of your neck "mh- what?" you say, a smile of pleasure starting to form on your lips

"I think you know what" she answers, you can feel her smile against your skin, her teeth brushing against your shoulder, and then you realize what she has in mind

"No, no, Em, absolutely not" You refuse, pulling away from her touch, turning around to look at her, crossing your arms.

"ugh i can't believe you're still thinking about it, after this morning" there it is, you are pushing her away again.

Why is she so insistent though, why can't she just read your mind and understand?

"Ok, ok I'm sorry, I just don't understand. You're always so open to trying new stuff, and that, just... i don't know, baby, i just want to know why you don't want it, that's all" She says, her hand reaching to rest on your arm to comfort you.

You just can't tell her, you're too ashamed. That same morning your girlfriend had suggested you tried something new in bed. She had asked you, boldly, (like she always did) to sit on her face.

She had insisted so much, you had denied every time.

Really, what was there to hate? your beautiful girlfriend was literally asking you to fuck her face, to eat you out, to give you full control. But you just couldn't do it.

"c'mon, baby, i just want to understand" she is being gentle, using her persuasion skills on you, calling you by the special pet name that would only come out in moments of special intimacy or vulnerability

She knows how to get to you, and that only makes you angrier.

You take her hand off your arm, getting yourself away from her, you need to be alone.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, try to keep it in your pants while i'm gone, all right?" you spit at her, and seeing her mouth-opened expression, you regret it inmidiately.

Standing under the warm stream of water helps you get your mind off of things for a while, while you wander what's exactly got you all worked up like this.

Emily doesn't deserve any of this, she had been nothing but sweet. Yes, she has been insistent about it, but that doesn't mean she had to be hit in the face with your own insecurities.

Getting out of the shower you stare at your reflection on the bathroom mirror. God, you hate how it makes you feel, but what you hate the most is how you're paying your own frustrations with your girlfriend.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, you get out, ready to face an angry Emily, instead she lays on the bed, already on her sleep clothes, reading with her book resting on her knees

"Em?" you try, she looks at you from over her book, then gets back to reading

"You're not gonna talk to me?" you ask

"whenever you're ready to actually talk to me, then I will. I'll try to keep it in my pants in the meantime, though" she shoots back in a sarcastic tone.

She's right, you shouldn't have said that, it had been a low blow.

You sit beside her, taking the book from her hands and placing it on the nightstand. She looks at you with mixed anger and sadness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, you know i didn't, this is just hard for me" you try to explain. "Look, I just don't think it's a good idea, alright?"

"I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable, but i want you to talk to me, i've been trying to get to you, and you just shut me out" she says, sitting upright on her spot on the bed, taking your hands on hers, looking you in the eyes

"it's just... i don't want to... hurt you" her mouth falls open once again "hurt me? that's what this is all about? baby c'mon, you won't hurt me, why do you say that?" her tone switches to full concern now, the previous argument already forgotten

"yes, i will, I will choke you with this big stupid things and you won't ever want to go down on me again" you finally let out

"well... I'll die a happy woman then" she chuckles, trying to downplay it

"Ok, baby, listen to me" she holds your face with both her hands, forcing you to look at her, the tenderness of her gaze deepening into you

"i love every part of you, even the ones you don't like, thighs included" she waits for an answer but you don't say anything.

Emily lifts your your chin with her finger, and leaves a soft peck on your lips, the contact makes you relax instantly

"you are smart" she says, leaving another soft kiss on your cheek

"and beautiful" now getting your other cheek

"and sexy" she kisses your nose this time

"and so, so hot" she moves back to kiss your lips again, and you chuckle nervously at her words

"what can i do to help you believe me?" you shake your head "let me bury myself into you, please" her pleading is getting too much, her thumb caresses your face so softly, so tenderly.

How could you deny her anything when she asks so sweetly? you finally nod, the huge smile spreading along her face

"Em, are you sure?” you ask, biting at your lip as you watch your girlfriend sit on the edge of the bed and recline back, laying face-up atop the covers with an eager grin spread across her face. “I might weigh too much…”

Emily raises her head up and shoots you a look. “Honey, I’m positive,” she says, trying to keep the whine out of her voice.

She wants you on her so badly she can barely stand it, eyes flickering between your face and the bathrobe that covers your thick, delectable thighs from view. 

A moment of deliberation passes, then, without another word, you reach down and untie the soft white hotel bathrobe, letting it slide down your arms to fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you completely naked in a matter of seconds

"fuck" you hear her mutter "you're so beautiful" Emily breathes

“Not as beautiful as you” you murmur as she clambers onto the bed.

You crawl up it until you are kneeling beside Emily's head, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your combined weight.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Yes.” her decisiveness tells you she wasn't joking, she does want this more than you had thought

You take a deep breath in and then lift a leg, swinging it over Emily and settling it on the other side of her head so that you are straddling her, your cunt hovering mere inches over Emily's mouth.

"Promise me you will tell me if i'm too heavy, or if you can't breath" too excited to resist, Emily reaches up to thumb at your clit. 

“I will” she says, sliding her free hand along your thigh, rubbing comforting circles into the soft skin.

“I promise you i will tap you twice, but i won't need it" she reassures. "You’re gorgeous—fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.”

Cautiously, you lowered yourself down enough that your near-dripping pussy was just barely pressing against Emily’s face.

You were planning to keep as still as possible in order to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around Emily or put too much weight on her, but that idea flew out the window almost immediately after her tongue darted out, flattening itself against the lips of your pussy before dragging upward and settling at the soft nub of your clit. 

“Oh,” you gasp, giving a shuddery little jerk of your hips before you can stop yourself.

Emily moans in reply, the sound vibrating against your walls and causes you to whimper again. 

Her tongue flicks out, circling your clit and applying occasional pressure, whilst two fingers push inside you, crook and rubbing at your sennsitive inner walls.

You shudder and gasp, quickly losing yourself to the feeling.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” you gasp out, finally giving in to the temptation to reach down and fist her hand into her silky hair.

Your girlfriend lets out another appreciative moan when you give it a rough tug, the vibrations making every feeling intensify.

Losing yourself to the pleasure, you rock your hips against Emily, knees pressing hard into the mattress. She has always been an expert on driving you wild like this.

Her nose rubbing right at your clit and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping tighter on the headboard. God, she has the perfect nose for this.

Emily’s mouth wrap around you, tongue sinking into your pussy as far as she can while she sucks at you, eagerly lapping your juices into her mouth.

Her hands groped at your ass, encouraging you to roll your hips, effectively riding her face.

She keeps up the pace, mouthing desperately at your clit until you can feel yourself letting go.

Hips stuttering and then stalling. Your thighs shook up, inner walls spasming around Emily’s fingers as you fall over the edge and into bliss.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Em...” You breath out, your chest heaving as you very slowly open your eyes, coming down to earth as Emily leaves little kitten licks on your cunt, sucking up as much of your juices as she could.

Your body shudders when her nose brushes against you again, this time an accident and she chuckles softly, helping you swing your leg over her and drop onto the bed beside her.

Emily stays put, lying face-up as she catches her breath. Then, once she feels able to, she rolls onto her side and grins at you.

"good?" she asks, her fingers softly playing with your hair

"absolutely perfect" You reply with a dreamy smile, pulling her to you for a kiss. You can't help but moan into her mouth at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

"I'm really sorry of what i said, Em" you said, keeping you face close to hers, holding her

"It's ok, I know you were upset. I just want you to know that i love every single part of your body, no exceptions" you kiss her sweetly, her words causing a warm feeling to spread on your stomach

"you're perfect" you say, pulling her in for another kiss

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you like it! reqs are still open!

#emily prentiss #wlw #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #lesbian #emily prentiss lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fandom #emily prentiss x jj

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Enough

Zoro x reader

Hurt/comfort + gn reader

1k words, very self indulgent

Masterlist

“FUCK” you scream in annoyance tossing your weapon across the room, plomping down with your hands shielding your face as you pant from exhaustion, frustration aching at every bone

The last few week’s training had become more of a chore, scratch that, an inconvenience. Your mind seemed to be wondering elsewhere, anywhere but where your feet stand making you fail over and over again, not landing a single hit for hours on end. You had tried everything, taking it slow, harsh, even bribing yourself saying ‘If I land this hit I’ll buy me something nice’ just to end up in disappointment

Having no results at something you’ve been great at for years and years, that had gotten you the place at your captains crew was like a dagger digging into your skin, as another day passed where you couldn’t even get through the first exercise in your routine.

The sound of slow and steady footsteps met your ears making you shield yourself further, hiding your face in the corner of the room fighting the tears that threatened to flow

“You ok?” Zoros low and raspy voice calls for you, his tone monotone

You don’t even spare him a glance before you let out a heavy sigh “Clearly not”

Everyone in the ship had noticed your drastic shift in behavior. Every time you’d come down from the crows nest, your face was bright red, feet stumping as you smashed the door of your quarters shut, not talking to anyone for at least an hour

Zoro knew exactly what it was as he had witnessed your frustration while he shared the training room form time to time. You would grunt and stomp your feet like a child, telling yourself everything from words of encouragement to degrading venomous things as you tried and tried to get at least one hit.

But he never said a thing

Until you stopped coming down for dinners, sleeping in more and more often, spending your days rotting, nor a smile or a laugh leaving your mouth. That natural glow and silly sweet personality you carried slowly fading away as the days passed, and he couldn’t have that

The swordsman sat down at your side, arms crossed across his wide chest while his mind reeled. Zoro clearly was not on his element, he had searched of the right words to say, the right timing, but he quickly came to the realization that there’s no such thing, he just had to be blunt

“Stop beating yourself up” to his surprise you shake your head frantically, there goes his words of encouragement

“I am just trying to be useful for the crew, if I can’t be that might as well throw me out in the ocean” your words linger in the air, making Zoro frown and stabbing your own heart

“Is this what everything’s about?” You sit right up and stare back at him confused, he looks annoyed

“What?”

“You’re beating yourself up because you don’t feel useful?”

Zoro waches the rapid speed in which your chest rises and falls, your lungs fighting to find the air they so much need, teardrops falling in your cheeks

“I-“ you choke out, your voice betraying you but your eyes fixated on the swordsman, a quiet call for help but he waits, clinging at your every word

“I am not as strong as you Zoro, or as smart as Robin, as entertaining as Brook and Ussop, or as caring as Sanji and Chopper, as important as Franky and Nami… I always give my 200% so that I fulfill my role but sometimes, sometimes I can’t even get to 50%” your hands are quick to wash your salty tears away, embarrassed by how vulnerable you had allowed yourself to be, but if you were to keep your feelings inside any longer you were going to fall apart

“You are our crew mate”- Zoro spoke with his usual standoffish tone, yet it sounded more soft and reassuring as other times you had conversed.- “You are not some clown or some soldier, you’re here because Luffy saw something in you, he believed in you as we all do here, you don’t have to prove yourself” your head started to shake once more but Zoro was quick to shut down your insecurities, one of his hands holding your forearm giving it a light squeeze

“You’re enough” his words got stuck in your heart, warming it and finally releasing the dreadful thoughts that had been plaguing you for days

You break down crying, head falling on his sculptured chest holding onto the swordsman like your lifeline “I am so tired”- you whispered between sobs. Zoro was taken aback but didn’t tried to pull away, instead holding your frame close, hands drawing soothing circles in your back as you let go finally. And there he sat, wetting his shirt with your tears but he didn’t cared, being strong all the time could be tiring he knows this better than anyone, as well as how you had to always show up and be strong to protect yourself

But now he was here to do so

Your sobs died down as your breath aligned to the beating of his heart thrumming in your ears, you thank him, eyes glittering back at his gaze that seemed to have softened, he brushes the matter off but Zoro is more than happy to had been of service, lifting the heavy burden from your back

“Now, go rest” and for the first time in weeks, you smile

That smile he had so missed making his heart jump and skip several beats, a warm feeling spreading all over his being, and glad you’re back to yourself just as he wanted. It may sound selfish but he doesn’t care, he wants you back

“You’re far more emotionally intelligent than people give you credit for mosshead” he rolls his eyes trying to hide his swelling pride

“I am just that great” you nudge him before standing up making your way out, his eyes never leaving you as if preoccupied something would bother you again in his absence

As you slip to sleep that night, you can finally truly rest, your body letting go of the tension that had build up, worries washing away like the tides crashing against the ship, the moonlight and the sound of the ocean lulling you to have the best sleep of your life

All thanks to your swordsman

#one piece #one piece roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa #zoro roronoa x y/n #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece zoro #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece fanfiction #fanfic

[fairyblossomsav]

when would be that right time? ; K.M

¡! pairing: kate martin x fem!reader

¡! summary: the team gives kate some encouragement to talk about her feelings.

¡! warnings: none

ps: this is my first time writing here, english is not my first language so be nice on me :(

be free if you wanna request a story just send it to me and i will work on that as soon as i can ! :)

✵ :･ﾟ✧ :･ﾟ✵ *:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✵ :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

You and Kate have been friends since their third year and your first year of college, they met thanks to gabbie, since you’re classmates and one random night of drinks you and kate really connected.

Your friendship has always been beautiful, Kate is a girl who takes care of and looks after her friends at all times, and you could never say no to the blue eye. During all those years you never had any feelings for Martin, until a trip they took to the beach.

You were in the sand taking the sun, until you feel someone sitting next to you, you raise your sunglasses and see Kate in her green bathing suit, smiling at you. "I got you this” She extended her hand and opened it, showing sea shells, which she had collected just for you. You make a pout looking at it, and taking the sea shells very carefully, and storing them in your bag.

“Thank you sweetheart” You laugh and start hugging her making you fall into the sand, Kate laughs and holds you tight.

While the two of them were already in the sand, none of you intended to separate themselves from that hug and so you stayed for the rest of what was left of tanning time and finally got up to be in the sea with the girls.

Recently on your birthday, Kate waited all night until you returned to your apartment to give you her gift. She took a small box out of her pocket, and opened it, showing a necklace with Kate’s initials engraved in gold.

KM.

“You have to be joking with me right know” you say with one hand covering your mouth.

“Don’t you like it?” Her worried face quickly became noticeable.

“Of course not, Kate! This is incredible” You say jumping for joy and jump into her arms to surround her body with your arms.

The clock rung, warning that it was midnight. “Happy birthday beautiful” She put a warm kiss on your forehead while she kept hugging you.

When she separated she helped you put on the necklace, and you happily invited her to spend the night, it was late and you didn’t want Kate to be driving late, it was one of the excuses you said to yourself not to accept that you really wanted to spend a night with her.

Finally, now you find yourself getting out of your bed at ten in the morning on a Saturday, you leave your room and find Kate in the kitchen cooking a delicious breakfast for both of you. It’s been 4 months since you unconsciously live together in your house.

The first times that Kate spent a few days at your house she brought a backpack with clothes and shoes according to the days she would stay, until a day you opened your closet and half of it was full of Kate’s clothes and shoes. It didn’t bother you, on the contrary, you wanted her to be with you, not in that way, without any commitment, but you hope that one day Kate will tell you if she feels the same as you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty” she said, putting the breakfast on plates and leaving them at the table. “I made you breakfast” she gave you a smile.

You smiled back at her and took a fork to sit down and start eating the two together.

“Today is the night with the girls, it’s ok if I bring them here” Kate ask. Every end of the month, the girls of the iowa basketball team have a girls night in at the house of the person who has to be a hostess. This time it was Kate’s turn.

“Kate you don’t need to tell me, is your house too” you say.

“I feel like I should always ask you” She took her phone and started writing to invite the girls.

Kate Martin

📍*adress*

i’ll see you guys at eight 🤠

Jada Gyamfi

ok y/n’s house

caitlin clark

y/n house ???

“What time is it?” When you finished eating, you took what they had used to the dishwasher.

“I told them that at 8” She said, looking at you with her blue eyes.

“Maybe I’ll arrive at about 8:30.” You would meet with some girls from your class to finish a class project, you would leave the house around 6:30 and you would be a little late for Kate’s meeting. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, no problem, I will go to buy some snacks, do you want to come?” You said yes happily, you went to your shared room, oh yea, because the two of you sleep in the same room, in the house there is one more room, but both have no interest in sleeping separately.

You took turns to shower, first it was Kate since you would decide what to use for the day, so she took a shower first, when she left the bathroom she came out changed with her typical iowa set of nike. When you got out of the shower you also got dressed, and you went to buy the snacks they will give at the girls’ meeting for tonight.

Kate was arranging everything while you picked up the things you would take to the library, you said goodbye to Kate and left the house.

The doorbell rang, someone had arrived, Kate left the potato plates on the living room table and went to open the door.

“Hey K,” Jada and Gabbie arrived, they entered the house since the blonde stepped aside so they could do it.

“Caitlin and Kylie are on their way,” Gabbie said, sitting on the couch. “While, Kate, what the hell is going on with you two.

“Hi losers,” Caitlin opened the front door, had arrived next to Kylie while they had a pizza in their hands.

“I brought donuts,” Hannah said, opening the box of donuts.

“What are they talking about?” Sydney closed the door, indicating that no one was missing.

“Kate and Y/N,” Jada said, taking a slice of pizza.

“Oh yes, you two definitely fuck,” Hannah looked at Kate with a mocking smile.

“Girls,” the blonde’s face turned red, she laughed nervously, “Y/N and I don’t have anything, I promise.

All the girls looked at Martin believing nothing she just had said. “Kate you literally have a necklace on with her initials, what do you mean” Caitlin laughed touching the necklace.

The blue eye remained silent, and it was definitely even redder. “Well, maybe there’s a possibility that I like Y/n,” she hid her face in her hands.

“We all knew it,” Sydney slapped him on the back.

And what will you do? It’s obvious that she likes you too, because another reason would let you move in with her and sleep in her same bed—Gabbie said eating a donut.

“I don’t know, we haven’t talked about this.

“You should do it, it’s obvious that the two of you are in love with each other , it’s miserable to see,” Caitlin laughed.

“Hello girls,” you opened the door and they all greeted you, you left your backpack in your room and went back with them to the living room.

“Pretty necklace y/n/n” Kylie told you since you sat next to her.

“Ow, thank you, Kate gave it to me,” you replied blushing. All the girls on the basketball team looked at each other laughing.

They had a good time full of laughter and games while all ate from the different meals they brought, the night passed quickly until 11 arrived, all of them were already gone, and it was only Kate and you throwing garbage and storing the food in left over.

Kate’s head was spinning a lot, she didn’t know if it was the right time to talk about her feelings. But when would be that right time?

“Can we talk?” the blue eye asked.

”yea.” you gave her all the attention in the world, when she spoke to you, you stopped doing everything you were doing just to listen to her. And this was no exception.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, without sounding so strange and I’m sorry for keeping this for so long but, I like you, very, too much, in the sense that I would like to be your girlfriend.” Martin was nervous about your answer.

You were paralyzed, is this a dream? You thought, this is real, Kate is confessing her feelings to you, now, right now in the kitchen. You just couldn’t find the right words and the only move you made was to approach her and join her lips in a kiss. A dream come true for both of you, the two of you wanted that so much, to feel close, yes, you slept together but not that kind of approach, but one where they will connect all your feelings and energy.

Finally you separated, a smile drew on your face, as well in Kate’s. “I really wanted to this all this time” you said looking at the tall blonde girl that you were in love with since you met.

“Me too” Martin said, she kept her hand on your waist, she wouldn’t let you go now, you were hers now. “I don’t like the idea of asking you to be my girlfriend like this, i promise i’ll make better the official. But for now, do you wanna be my girlfriend?” She did it.

“Yes! A hundred times yes” You said happily jumping on her, she hold you and you wrap your legs in her torso. You two join your lips together in a kiss

“I love you” Kate says looking at your eyes.

“I love you too” You press your lips against hers one more time. And then she pulls you down, and walk together to your room. It wasn’t a dream, Kate and you were now a couple. Finally.

✵ :･ﾟ✧ :･ﾟ✵ *:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✵ :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

all the love

-sab <3!!

#visualization #kate martin #iowa hawkeyes #iowa women’s basketball #basketball #wnba basketball #wnba draft #martin #kate martin x reader #wlw post #lv aces

[mayajadewrites]

i said sit - levi ackerman x plus size reader

✦ synopsis: levi ackerman is not a patient man. so when you tell him that you're too scared to sit on his face, he makes sure he gets what he wants.

✦ chapter content warnings: plus size f!reader, oral (f! receiving), levi is sort of an asshole but in a sweet way

✦ characters: levi ackerman

ao3

tag list: @come-away-with-me87

"You can't be serious right now." Your boyfriend, Levi Ackerman, furrowed his eyebrows. "Say that again."

"Baby don't act like you haven't seen me." You outline your body with your hands. "I'm heavier than you. If I sit on your face I'm afraid I'll crush you."

You and Levi were standing in the doorway of his room in his apartment - a place you have been frequenting more lately. Some of your possessions are placed neatly around the space, mostly so if any woman comes over they know that there's one already here.

Toxic? Maybe. But your boyfriend is Levi fucking Ackerman, and you know there are many women who would love to sleep with him.

Not that he really has anyone over but you anyways.

"I'm not fucking blind." Levi pressed his large hand to the other side of the doorway, looking down at you. You're about an inch shorter than him, which is why everyone says you were made for each other. "You act like I haven't seen you naked."

"It's... different." Your doe eyes find his gaze. "Being on top... I've had b bad experiences."

Levi's expression turned sour as he analyzed your face. "You mean to tell me a man made you feel insecure about yourself?"

You turn your head to the side, not wanting to verbally answer him.

"Look at me." Levi forcefully grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, setting your face straight. "Answer me."

"Yes. God, Levi. Leave it alone." You try to turn around to enter his room, but he blocked you with his muscular, chiseled arm. He's wearing a short sleeve black shirt that tugs a bit at his biceps.

"You're going to do as I say. Ok?" Levi's voice was low. You stared at your boyfriend in that moment - why were you so scared to let him pleasure you? He has been nothing but amazing these past few months that you've been dating.

His mouth found yours in a hot, frenzied kiss as he pushed your back against the doorway. The kiss caught you off guard, but your pussy clenched as his lips attached to yours.

Levi dragged his hands along your curves, grabbing the meat of your hips gently with his calloused hand. He groaned against your lips as he kneaded your hips, moving his hand to your ass.

"Any man would be lucky to have your pussy on their face." He hooked his arms under your thighs, picking you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

He picked you up like you were a fucking paperclip.

Even though Levi's frame is small, the man is the strongest. He never once winced when picking you up, or when you lean your body into his.

Your tits pressed against his chest as you cradled his face, his beautiful face in your soft hands. Your kisses are needy, slipping your tongue inside his mouth frantically as the knot in your stomach tightened.

Levi lead you to his bed, his king size bed that looked like a cloud. He sat you down at the edge as he peeled his shirt off, then helping you with your clothes.

"Levi, I-"

"Shut up." He cut you off, peeling your clothes off your body. "Listen to me. I want you to ride my face. Am I making myself clear?" He pulled your jeans off swiftly.

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. You look down at your stomach, your fingers dragging along the softness and rolls.

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever met." Levi knelt down in between your legs. "Have I ever made you feel otherwise?"

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip gently. "No."

"Trust me." He kissed your lips once more before laying down on his back on the plush fabric of his comforter.

You take a deep breath, crawling to where Levi is laying.

"You look so sexy crawling to me." Levi growled. Your tits were almost falling out of your hot pink lacy bra, a lace thong to match. He loves the color pink on you, so you made sure to buy plenty of hot pink bra and panty sets. "We'll have to revisit that later."

You smirked, gaining more confidence. You straddled your legs around his waist, sliding your body up. You're sat on his chest, his hands gripping your ass.

The look in his eyes is almost feral. They look more blue than grey from up here.

He kissed your inner thigh, slapping your ass gently with his hand as he watches your expression. "What are you waiting for, baby?"

You close your eyes, moving your hips forward slowly.

"Fuck it." Levi pushed your ass roughly so your clothed, wet core was now on his face. "I said sit."

"Levi!" You gasp at he feeling of his tongue on the fabric.

"You gonna leave these on or what?"

You raised to your knees and slid your thong off, throwing it to the side of the bed.

Levi gazes up at the beautiful sight of your pussy, dripping with arousal so much that it looks like it's sparkling.

He slapped his hands on your ass, pulling you down to him.

"Oh, fuck!" You feel the contours of his face as his hands apply more pressure to your ass. He blows cold air onto your folds, causing the hair on your neck to stand up. He dragged his tongue along your folds, getting an initial taste of you.

Levi wasted no time in lapping up your juices. His tongue dove into your aching pussy as his mouth sucked on your clit. Your legs began to twitch, one hand on the headboard and the other buried in his raven hair.

His hand grazed the top of your ass, caressing the skin gently. Even when he's eating you like he's been starved for weeks, he still makes you feel comfortable.

"Mmph, Levi." He uses the other hand to slip two fingers inside of you as he continues to suck on your swollen clit.

"That's it, baby. Ride my face."

You rock your hips back and forth as you feel the coil on your stomach growing tighter. He smacks your ass roughly as your hips move and you swear you can feel his smirk.

"Levi, fuck I'm gonna come." You take a staggered breath.

"Not yet." He mumbled against your pussy. "I'm not finished with my meal." His fingers curled inside of you, his tongue lapping up every drop of arousal.

Your hips start to grind at a quicker pace as you feel yourself coming undone. Levi's hand pushed your ass down onto his face to plunge his tongue deep into you, exploring depths of your pussy that no one has.

"You taste so good, pretty girl. So wet for me." Lewd sounds filled the room as his mouth continued to devour you.

"I can't hold it much longer." You whine.

"What a needy brat. Go." He slapped your ass as a signal for you to come undone on top of him.

The coil snapped, and you swore you could see stars. Your hips continued to rock on his face as you reached euphoria. Levi's tongue, not showing any signs of being tired, assisted his lips with sucking and licking your swollen, overstimulated clit.

You pull on his hair gently with your fingers, finally descending from your high. Levi pulls you next to him on the bed, laying on your side. Before wiping his face with the back of his hand, he drags his index finger across his swollen, pinkish-red lips and dips his finger in your mouth.

"Taste yourself, princess."

You wrap your lips around his finger, tasting your own arousal. Levi wraps his arms around your soft body, bringing his face to the crook of your neck. He places soft kisses against your skin as he holds you tightly in his arms. "I'm gonna need seconds. I'm still hungry."

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman smut #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #levi smut #levi x you

[simpackerman]

Oblivious

My name is Rachel, so that's what our OC will be referred to as in my fics. I'll be working on a smut request next.

Send any requests about Leah Alexia Rachel or Alessia

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

"Here's your water bottle, Rach" Leah smiled shyly as she handed you your bottle after a grueling training session.

"Thank you darling" You replied and watched as Leah's cheeks turned red.

"Uh- Anytime" The blonde stuttered before abruptly leaving.

"You do realised she fancies you right?" Katie says to you having watched the interaction.

"she actually does, doesn't she?"

"course she does. And i know you like her too. Right?''

''how can i not? Have you seen her'' You said in a daze as you watched Leah walk over to Lia Walti.

What are you waiting for then? Ask her out" Katie exclaims excitedly.

"Nahh I should have some fun with it since i know" You say with a look of mischief"

''I have an idea hang on"

"HEY GIRLSS! TEAM BONDING AT MINE AND CAITLIN'S PLACE TONIGHT" Katie yelled being her loud self

"6pm sound good?"

You chose to wear a casual sweatshirt with a jacket over it. You were waiting for Beth to pick you up as arranged. Your phone pinged with a message from Beth stating they were outside.

"Helloo, we brought Leah along too" Beth exclaimed and you got into the back seat with next to Leah.

"Hello Williamson" You said using her last name.

"On last basis now are we?" Leah mocks hurt.

"Mhm or do you prefer darling instead?" You smirked as Leah blushed

"Tone it down lovebirds!" Beth teases making Leah blush deeper, almost the same colour as the red hoodie she wore as you looked at her in amusement.

You were in the kitchen with Katie, helping her with drinks

''i have a plan''

''This better not ruin my life McCabe''

''Hey! my ideas arent that bad'' the Irish woman defended herself

''mhm..whatever you say''

''wanna play truth or dare?''

You gave her a look. This might not be such a bad idea after all as only a handful of girls came round.

They were sitting in a circle with a bottle in the middle.

''I'll go first!'' Katie exclaimed

''viv, truth or dare?''

''truth''

''what do you see in beth?''

''HEY!''

''Im not sure to be fair'' The dutch international replied with a teasing look at Beth.

As more drinks made there way down thier thraots, the spicer the game went.

''Caitlin, who's the top in bed''

''MEEE!'' Katie yelled before the australian could answer.

''i dont know mccabe, you're giving bottom vibes to me'' You said pretending to look thoughtful. The others laughed as Katie smacked you around the head.

Caitlin spun the bottle and it landed on Lia.

''dare''

''ooooooohhh''

''shut up beth''

''call someone from our team and confess your undying love for them''

Lia called Alessia

"Less, we need to talk"

"Oh sounds serious, what's wrong?"

"This is might come as a bit of a surprise but I'm in love with you. From the moment I laid my eyes on you I wanted to jump in bed with you and show you how much I love you" Lia said trying to sound serious as the rest of us muffled our laughter behind our palms.

"O-oh umm well I mean t-thats..yeah OK thanks?"

"Chill Less she's pulling your leg it's a dare" Katie said into the phone as Alessia laughed.

"I hate you guys"

Lia spent he bottle and it landed on Leah

"Dare" Leah said hesitantly as Katie smirked at me.

"I dare you to....sit on Rachel's lap for the rest of the game" Lia smirked at her best friend. Looks like she's playing match maker as well.

The rest of the team fell silent and watched wondering how this would end as Leah got up. She walked towards you with her face as red as the hoodie she wore.

She awkwardly stands infront of you not knowing what to do. You gently took her hand and brought her down to sit on your lap wrapping your arms around her waist as she got comfortable. She looked at you with a red face, blushing even deeper when you smiled at her.

You casually moved your hand on your waist down to her ass watching as her face flush for the umpteenth time.

The girls decided to go watch a movie after the game. Katie and Lia made sure you two were next to each other. At the beginning you could feel Leah's eyes on you from time to time admiring your side profile. You put your hand on her tight and looked at her as she inhaled at her contact.

"Do I make you nervous darling?"

"N-no"

"Your face flaring up every now and then says otherwise.''

''How about we get out of here and hang out at my place?"

She nodded

As soon as you two entered your flat you closed the door and pushed her against it making her gasp in surprise.

"Tell me. How do you feel when I'm near you?" She looked down with her face red .

"When I touch you?" You said caressing her cheek with your hand tilting her chin to look at you in the eyes.

When she looked speechless you decided to get to the point.

"How would you feel if I kissed you right now?" Leah suddenly pressed her lips against yours while standing on her tippy toes.

You were taken aback on where the blushing girl got the confidence from. Her confidence didn't last long as you kissed her back harshly pressing her against the door making her gasp in to your mouth.

You took this opportunity to slip your tongue into her mouth making he rket out a small moan and your tongues made contact.

Your hands rested underneath her tight making her wrap her kegs around your waist. You walked toward the couch, as she peppered kissed onto your neck.

You laid her on the couch climbing over her to resume your make out session. You trail kisses from her jaw line to her neck, nipping and biting eliciting a moan from the blonde.

You pulled back and looked at the girl, panting with swollen red lips and a faint mark forming in her neck.

"Let me take you out on a date tomorrow"

''9?''

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #lionesses #arsenal wfc #lia walti #caitlin foord #katie mccabe #viv miedema #beth mead #alessia russo #meadema #mcfoord #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #womens football

[kinkley-are-adorkable-flirts]

I'm apparently obsessed with goofy proposal stories.

*********************

Tommy is baking in the kitchen. “Honey, can I use you for that lightning brain of yours, my slutty little human calculator? How many tablespoons is 8 teaspoons?”

Evan purrs at the thought of being used by Tommy. “2 2/3, or 2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons.”

He wraps arm around Tommy’s waste from behind, the other reaching to cup his bulge. “Speaking of 2 tablespoons…”

Tommy: “I don’t know whether to be turned on or insulted. Tablespoons? Really?” He still turns to kiss Evan

Evan blushes and tries to redirect. “Well, speak of fraction conversions, when we get married it will be a 3/4 gay marriage since you’re gay and I’m bi.”

Tommy blinks, trying to figure out which piece of information to prioritize addressing first while simultaneously trying to show his confusing without making Evan panic. “Baby, I… you...”

“OMG did I do that thing again where I thought we had a conversation but it was just me prepping or reminding myself in my head? Have I not actually proposed yet? I rehearsed it so many times in my head I must have thought…”

Tommy helps Evan pause and reset like no one else can. “No, I feel like that’s something I’d remember. Do you need a moment?”

Evan nods, grabs a spatula, holds it in front of Tommy’s face and says “bzzzt, memory of the last 5 minutes erased.”

He races to the bedroom to his hiding spot to realize… he also forgot to pickup the ring in his excitement.

Dejected, he walks back into the kitchen, staring at the ground to find Tommy on one knee, holding an open ring box... but not HIS box.

"Evan, you came to me in a hurricane, both literally and figuratively. I've been looking to settle for years, but had given up hope. Then you came into my life, bringing this chaotic, manic, menacing energy that I never thought I wanted, but you made me realize I NEED it. You made me realize that I'm not looking to settle, I want to commit, commit to loving you with all of my being. I want to be the first one you see when you wake up in the ER... because I've accepted that's a thing... and I want you to always be the first I see. I want... I want it all, though I suspect you feel the same." Tommy reaches in his pocket and pulls out a second box, Evan's box.

"How did you...?"

"You filled out the order form like it was a medical form and put "In case of emergency, contact my Tommy. They said they even questioned you and you said you were sure. When I went to pickup MY ring for YOU, they asked me if you were ok because you hadn't picked it up. I actually kinda love that it's automatic for you now to put me as an emergency contact, even with a jeweler... Look at me, going into an Evan Buckley patented tangent. Right down the rabbit hole."

Evan blushes and joins him on the floor, taking his hands. "The look on your face after we had moved in together, but you weren't the one called crushed me, so I guess it's become second nature. I'll follow you down the rabbit hole any day, and there's no one I'd rather have following me. So we're doing this then?"

"Never a doubt in my mind... Can we revisit the 3/4 gay married thing though?"

Evan's blush deepens "ugh just shut me up, you fool." and they kiss. ****************** A few days later they have an informal engagement celebration and are telling their family about the proposal, receiving multiple laughs, chuckles, head shakes, eye rolls, and "only you two"s. They are laughing with them, but look at each other mildly horrified when asked if either ever "technically" asked one another to marry them. Tommy starts to laugh though. "I guess that's the missing 1/4 of the gay marriage" and Evan groans and hides his face.

They settled on a date quickly and emailed out save the dates (save a tree too!) - March 4 (3/4) of course.

Down the Rabbit Hole - Ruby_Daiquiri - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

#911 show #the weewoo show #adorable idiots #kinkley adorkable flirts #i keep writing proposals #i keep turning two liners into full stories #buck x tommy #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #buck and tommy #bucktommy #3/4 gay married

[yae-energy]

╰┈─✩ ˚ ‧ all the ways i love you…forever and more ‧ ˚

✧˖° synopsis : sequel to my previous post with the first years !!

✧˖° cast and crew : satoru gojo , choso kamo and nanami kento x black reader

.ᐟ content warnings : YALL KNOW THE DRILL, tons of yapping and tomfoolery

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ authors note : inspired by @luvvsk2 ‘s comment (I had no plans on doing a pt 2 and didn’t wanna just have gojo since the post would be kinda short, so I’m feeding my nanami and geto lovers as well. Two birds with one stone fr. THANK YOU BTW CAUSE NO ONE REQUESTS MWAH💋)

—

satoru “i miss you :(” gojo : quality time lover + physical touch

where do i even start man…

THIS MAN IS CLINGYYYYY

and when I say clingy I mean glued to the hip, I wanna be inside your skin typa clingy. (can you blame him ???)

life as a sorcerer— the strongest sorcerer at that, doesn’t really leave much time for extracurricular activities so of course neither of you were really surprised by the distance. does it still bother you? of course.

he always tries to make up for it when he can though. movie dates, night outs on the town and the occasional luxury vacation (it’s gojo, if he’s gonna do it’s gotta be RIGHT) whatever you want, you got it.

and best believe he’s gonna be all over you too. he’s a pda freak, mf loves it !!! holding hands, kisses, hugs ALL OF IT.

what can i say? he’s a simple man.

—

choso “let me do it” kamo : acts of service king

one thing about dating choso? he’s always gonna hit you with the “let me do it”

he does everything for you (not your choice) but he can’t help it :(

this man is dedicated to making your life as easy as possible. he treats you like some sort of royalty because you’re his no.1 priority and he’s basically your knight in shining armor.

he even ties your shoes for you because how dare you exert yourself in such a manner when he’s there? he loves being of use (as weird as it sounds) he loves servicing you in any way possible. however, there are times when it DOES get irritating.

you find yourself having to do the “it’s ok I can do it” speech more than you should, kinda serves as a cue to tone it down and more often than not he catches on.

he’s working on it he swears !

—

nanami “are you hungry?” kento : acts of service + quality time (aka husband material)

now, nanami is an acts of service man in a different way than choso is, because as much as he’d love to do everything for you and to have you sit pretty…he sees that it’s not practical to any extent for day to day life.

what i will say though, is that he makes up for that in a different way.

this man can cook, mf throws DOOWWNN in the kitchen and it’s all for you. he doesn’t even cook himself anything half the time, he just likes making sure you’re well fed and taken care of.

he knows all your favorite foods, knows what textures you like, he’s got it all down to a science. not to mention that he uses it as an excuse to spend more time with you. he knows he’s busy and feels awful about it so he takes that as an opportunity to wiggle in some MUCH needed quality time.

he loves when you guys bake together the most though. (and he cleans up afterwards every time so you can enjoy the meals or goodies you guys prepared.

he’s a good man savannah 🥲

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ tags : - @morosis-haze @jogeto @mypimpademia @ivanari @planetlunaa @cosmiles @milesmolasses @chinieh @rynfiles @stqrriichiigo

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ writer’s credits : @luvvsk2

if you wish to be tagged in any future works, here’s my tag form to fill out <33

if you wish to submit a request, here’s my ask box :)

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ closing notes : ANOTHER POST WOOP WOOP

sneakerhead hc’s for denji is still in the works so that will be out at some point 🤷🏽‍♀️ (we’ll see fr cause….)

anyhow, thank you for reading 😻‼️ love you guys !!

- XoXo, Yves

#saint laurent productions #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #gojo x black reader #satoru gojo x reader #choso x black!reader #choso x reader #nanami x black reader #nanami x reader #jjk season 2 #gojo headcanons #nanami headcanons #choso headcanons

[brucewaynehater101]

I have an au that I thought you might enjoy. It's inspired by Magernia from Pokemon if you've ever seen it's movie. If not, it's OK the plot isn't the important part. What is important is that Tim is not exactly fully flesh.

When Tim first becomes Robin, he knows that he won't be able to hide his partly robotic nature from Bruce for very long so he tells him immediately that he was in an "accident" when he was younger so both of his arms are highly advanced prosthetics. He doesn't elaborate on what the "accident" was and gets uncomfortable when it's brought up. Shockingly, Bruce does respect this and allows Tim to not tell him. He puts the information in Tim's medical file and calla it a day.

Alfred also knows about Tim's arms due to him being the one to normally patch Tim up, if anyone does. Dick however was not told because both Bruce and Tim thought the other told Dick. He gets to find out when one of Tim's hands gets crushed on patrol one night and Tim looks at the mess of wires and metal and just huffs, "this is gunna be a nightmare to fix up, but at least it was only my hand. Could have been a lot worse, right?" Nightwing's freakout is how Tim realized he had no idea Dick didn't know. It was a mess and a half to clean up.

However, Tim did lie to them about his "accident". They find out when Tim gets shot with something two years into being Robin and there is a hole nearly 2 inches across right where his intestines should be. Only there's no blood or gore, only wires, gears, and broken metal. Tim has no flesh insides, simply complex mechanics which are now causing his whole body to glitch out quite a bit. This has the added effect of making Bruce and Dick go absolutely *feral* on the Rouge who just fucked up Tim so badly so they can get him home.

On the way back to the cave, Tim pipes up with glitches and static lacing his voice, "ne-ed-ed-ed to goooo to Dra-Dra-Drake manor-or-or for relac-ace-acement partssss." And well. Bruce and Dick have absolutely no idea how Tim's body works or how to fix him so they don't really have any choice. Bruce has to carry him through the house, through a hidden door into the basement, through two more locked secret doors, and into what looks like a storage room. The walls are lined with wooden boxes and Tim points a shaking finger at one. Inside of it is another Tim??? Only this one's chest panels are open showing a small, empty space about the size of a baseball and cube shapped.

Tim opens his own chest to show that he's fully robotic and his cube space is filled with a silver box with a heart drawn on the front. Tim takes it out carefully and manages to transfer it to the new body before his goes completely limp in Bruce's arms, seeming dead. The New Tim's chest closes as his eyes light up and he says, "Systems Intilizing. Connection complete. Consciousness Transfer Successful. Rebooting... Rebooting... Rebooting. System check... system check passed. Now coming online." The New Tim sits up and says, "OK, everything's good now. Can you put it in the corner so I can fix that old one up later?"

The following interrogating leads to Tim admitting that the "accident" was his whole body and soul getting sealed in an artifact and instead of his parents dealing with the fall out of their heir dying under mysterious circumstances, they contacted a wizard who was able to make the box the artifact of stored in and they had robotic replacement bodies made for Tim so that he could continue to be a "normal kid". Tim insists this is a good thing because while the bodies can and do break, the artifact is indestructible so Bruce doesn't need to worry about him Actually Dying! This is Not Helpful.

Over the following years, Bruce works with any advanced robotics people that he can trust to make better and better bodies for Tim. He wants to let Tim be able to Feel again, rather than just be told the numbers and data. He wants his son to be able to remember what cold feels like instead of just knowing that the metal he touched is 17.6 degrees, or to be able to taste and digest food again instead of just drinking oil or plugging into the wall socet to recharge his batteries.

Also, it's always an Experience, a Rite Of Passage at this point for each new family member to be traumatized the first time Tim blocks a lethal shot for them with his own body and takes Massive damage only to be revealed that he's got a robotic body.

Also, the artifact Tim is locked in? He will never let anyone see it because it's a necklace. It's not big, or flashy, but a simple braided gold chain with an obsidian pendant that has a single ruby at the center. Tim knows at least one of these fuckers would try to wear him.

One of them absolutely would try to wear him. He is so right for that and should protect the necklace at all costs.

I absolutely loved this AU so much. The buildup was fantastic as well. Also, good dad Bruce here with him wanting Tim to be able to experience the world again. It would be so cute if the family had little celebration parties for each milestone (Steph for sure decorated the cake with a "You can taste sour foods again!" or whatever milestone they reached). They just have a really nice family dinner and spend the night playing games, watching movies, pulling pranks, etc.

I'm curious if Tim's robot body can send data to the batcomputer. Like, can he just send recordings of stuff he's seen?

This could tie into the AU where he goes around taking pictures of the Bats after or before he figures out their identities. Instead of lugging around a camera, he takes the data for that night, encrypts it, and then edits the photos for his own perusal.

Overall, super cool concept I'd love to see more of

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!! #dc au

[derangedanomaly]

hii!! hope you’re doing well today! how do you think the boys handle a reader on their period? not like stereotypical period stuff where ppl always write the reader aggressive, just like they’re in a lot of pain and are tired and want cuddles? just got mine and it is soo painful i slept till like 1 pm ;n;

Aww, here anon. Let me give ya a hug 🫂

Also, I literally felt the pain right there- I hate periods so much

THE BOYS X READER ON PERIOD

Nightmare:

Nightmare would honestly flinch the first time when you lay on him or show him affection.

He searched for a reason regarding your clinginess, so he read your emotions. You were in a lot of pain at that moment.

He asked you about your pain. The reason for it, and all that. Which you admitted to being on your period.

Nightmare (shockingly) wrapped his tentacles around you, wrapping you in a some sort of a cocoon, acting like your own comforter.

He didn't say much (remember, he's literally the embodiment of negativity), but he did give little squeezes with his tentacles to relive any stress.

He may not have a giant 'heart', but he sure as hell isn't a completely cruel and viscous man.

Chaos:

Chaos also, much like Nightmare, flinched the first time you layed on him.

He turned to you in confusion. "What's the sudden rain of affection, Y/n?" Your only response was a groan, as you tried to explain to him that you were on your period, currently experiencing a lot of pain.

Chaos felt bad..he wanted to relieve your pain, and be there for you all the time! If he could, he'd devote his whole life to you...

Of course the immediate thing he does is hug you tightly, peppering you with kisses all over you. He wants you to know just how much he cherishes you and just how much he wishes for your pain to lessen.

He's going to do everything in his power to make sure you're ok.

Ace:

Ace knew. He always knew. He had once tried to learn the human anatomy, so he has a pretty good idea of what's going on with you when you suddenly fling yourself on him.

That's not to say he's not taken off guard when you effortlessly do that though. He will jump when you throw yourself on him.

Ace would analyze you, everything you're doing, how you're acting, to come to a conclusion. He determines that you must be on your period, going through huge pain.

Ace will know what to do. He's gonna give you a heat pad, some pills to relieve it, anything! Honestly, I'd go to him if you need help with this.

He's gonna hold onto you, silently whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Blade:

Blade would immediately think that you want attention from him. (Which he thrives for, and it boosts his ego)

He's gonna get real confused by your wriggling and shallowed breaths.. after a bit of staring, he'll ask you what's wrong.

He doesn't know much about human anatomy, so he's probably gonna be confused about how to deal with this situation. How do you deal with something like this? He'd ask himself.

Doesn't even know that something like heat pads work..

He's probably only gonna cuddle you tightly, until you tell him to do anything else for you. He's gonna do it if you ask for it. How could he resist his queen?

Ted:

He's not gonna get startled like the others, he won't even question it. He's actually gonna return your hug, with an even tighter one!

He's going to do all the right things, without knowing he does them right.

He's up to anything you ask for. You want to cuddle? Sure. Need a heat pad? All you have to do is ask. Anything you want, he'll do it.

After you explain that you're this cuddly because of pain from your period, he's gonna frown sadly down at you in concern.

Now he does everything even more.

There's not much else to say about him to be honest.. you can't write perfection.

#undertale #undertale fandom #sans undertale #chaos sans #undertale au #utmv #utmv au #nightmare sans #nightmare sans x reader #chaos sans x reader #dust sans #dust sans x reader #killer sans #killer sans x reader #horror sans #horror sans x reader

[satureja13]

Ji Ho's Therapy Game It starts -> here

As Sai has suggested, Ji Ho went back to his Therapy Game and get this wedding over with before Vlad goes insane.

Well, maybe the wedding is already over and his NPC version married Caleb because after he logged in, he found himself in the middle of his wedding night!? At least it was a very hot woohoo after Prince Caleb had been showing him the cold shoulder all the time! But how could he miss his own wedding? Wasn't that what his therapy was all about? -.-

Or is this influenced by his hot hot tub encounter with Vlad yesterday and just an ingame dream?

The man Princess Jihovere was in bed with held her tight and kissed her tenderly after their climax. They were still secluded under the blanket and it was too dark to see. He whispered: "You are my bride. Come to me. I'll wait for you." And then he left her. Princess Jihovere was unable to move. She woohooed! Oh my, Vlad was upset about the marriage, what would he say if he learned about that? ö.Ö' Eventually she scrambled out of bed on shaky legs to see who it was she spent the night with. But too late. The mysterious man had already turned into a bat and flew away. So it must have been a vampire! (Or a werebat? Are vampires werebats?)

It was already dawn and Ji Ho pondered about what this could mean. And about his therapy and what he wanted to achieve while he was here. He thought he'd just quickly log in today to see what happens and then log out to let Jack go back to his therapy again so he could get rid of the last painful spot. But Ji Ho also has to think of Vlad. This ingame wedding with Caleb is driving him insane. No matter how much he pretends that he's ok with everything that helps Ji Ho to heal and find his buried feelings so he can finally love Vlad. So what if there were a possibility to avoid the wedding? Plus it would be a good goal for his therapy to not always quietly do what what others expect of him and stand up for what he wants, right?

The Princess stepped outside in the morning light. Who is this mysterious man and why did he claim she was his bride? And why did Caleb avoid the Princess ever since she was here? Time to get some answers from the Queen.

She took a last view over the beautiful land she's supposed to reign with her King. But which King? Then she took a deep breath in before she got dressed to face the Queen. (This is a very hard task for Ji Ho because he usually never speaks up. He grew up all alone on his own in the Slums of Sulani and had been shoved around until the landlord wanted him to work at the brothel, like his mother. That was one of the very rare moments he couldn't bear it anymore and made the decision to leave. During his traumatic childhood, he learned to bury his feelings deep down to survive so he doesn't feel connected much to what's going on around him. He just follows Sai's lead (and Jack's hahaha) and doesn't make any fuss because he learned it's better to be invisible. Time to change that. You can read about Ji Ho's background -> here in a few short (! ^^') episodes.)

The Princess met the Queen in the Salon.

The Queen: "What is it, my dear?" Princess Jihovere took a deep breath in: "It's about the wedding. Why is Prince Caleb avoiding me and was there maybe another heir of the throne?"

The Queen: "My poor dear. I thought your grandfather told you. You've already been promised to the heir of this throne as a child. But you are right. There was another heir. He is a bastard but no one ever questioned his rightful claim on the throne. Oh, he was so happy to marry you. He chose the ring you wear and your horse. Then someone on Social Bunny started a campaign and the subjects turned against him. And so he got banned and Caleb had to step in. Reluctantly. But he's the next in line of sucession of the throne."

(It seems the Queen gave the Castle's Salon her own touch with the statue on the right and the painting of a cock ^^')

Princess Jihovere: "Oh, I understand..." The Princess checked her phone and really, there were the posts that forced the rightful heir of the throne to leave. And she understood the power of Social Bunny. Even over Royals like them. (Maybe the Princess better shouldn't step on her balcony in her dessous then ö.Ö')

Princess Jihovere: "Is there no way to restore his reputation?" The Queen: "Ach, we tried everything! I already told you that I'm not here because I wanted it. I had to step in until Caleb is married to you to prevent further backlash on the Royal Family. We had countless councelors here and it cost a pretty penny - but of no avail. If your reputation is once tainted, there's no way out, I fear." Princess Jihovere: "I want to try. No! There is no try. I will bring him back!" (And avoid the wedding with Caleb ^^') The Princess/Ji Ho has a goal! (That hasn't happened since Ji Ho had left Sulani and the other day, when he left to help his brother step over to the other side. And when he chose to learn how to love Vlad.) It's mainly to keep Vlad sane but it will also be a great step forward for himself.

The Queen: "Come, I'll show him to you." Princess Jihovere: "The real heir?" They went out in the garden of the Princess' Tower where the statue stands. Princess Jihovere: "This is him?"

The Queen: "You felt it, didn't you?" Princess Jihovere: "He is my King?!" Yes, she had felt it. She'd been drawn towards this statue since she first saw him. And maybe she was eager now to find him for herself. He's so beautiful.

The Queen: "Good luck, my dear. Even though our marriages are arranged, we can find love, you know? We'll head to Saarburg tomorrow where we have a charity event and meet the jeweller. But we will also visit the library. There are some books that might help you on your quest." Princess Jihovere: "Thank you."

'Feeling my way through the darkness Guided by a beating heart I can't tell where the journey will end But I know where to start They tell me I'm too young to understand They say I'm caught up in a dream Well life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes Well that's fine by me'

Wake me up - Avicii

The Therapy Game Master Post with the sessions and places so far is -> here

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

#The One Game #underwater love #The Game #the one #The Castle #woo ji ho #noxeema jackson #caleb vatore #sims 4 story #windenburg #simlit #windslar #simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 vanilla #sims storytelling #the sims #sims #tell us your stories #storytelling #storytime

[ybklix]

favorite crime

♡ bang chan

⮑ intro

⋆cw: none ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⋆notes: narrated from fem character’s pov. fic based on 2004.

masterlist here

a/n: help, i’m not really sure how that store used to be like since I’m writing it to romanticize the early 2000’s ok

chapters one & two

ONE

word count: 816

Excluding the part about living in an insignificant town and still attending school… it’s not relevant. None of that matters or will matter once I manage to get out of here… and finally become someone else among the millions of people in the city, amidst the hustle and bustle, broken hopes, dreams hanging by a thread, and completely void happiness, just there, I’ll be there. Living, I guess. Breathing in the smoke from some neighbor’s cigarette and questioning if this is my path, since clearly the one I’m on now is not pleasing at all.

I managed to stop my thoughts for a few seconds; my mother was shouting from the bathroom, repeatedly asking me to check on a delivery the courier had just made. It was my last weekend before a new school year, and surprisingly, the weather had remained warm, so I was only wearing comfortable clothes. August had gone by, soon it would be September, and my favorite season would finally begin.

I opened the door to find an ostentatious box with the IKEA logo engraved on it. I had no idea if my mother had ordered some new furniture, so just as I was about to grab it and drag it, I realized the big mistake. The label didn’t bear any familiar name, and in fact, the address indicated the next-door neighbor’s number. Minho Lee, 143. I grimaced, unsure if I should be the one to report the mistake, or just not bother and move the box in front of his door, hoping he’d open it.

Considering, it was strange for this kind of confusion as deliveries like this always went to the reception where they would then call the owner just to make sure if it’s okay to bring it up or leave it right there downstairs.

Minho Lee… I knew they moved into the next-door apartment almost over a month ago, but honestly, I never cared to know who lived around me. I dragged the heavy box a few meters to his door and simply knocked on his door out of impulse, without hope of any response or desire to stay there to give any explanation. But the response was quicker than I thought because, as soon as I knocked, almost instantly, the neighbor appeared, dressed comfortably all in black, in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

He had a look of confusion on his face. I remained for 3 seconds not knowing what to do until I managed to say:

“This appeared at our door, but I think it’s yours.”

The Asian-looking guy looked even more confused for about two more seconds until he managed to read that my gaze was directed towards the ground, and it wasn’t until he noticed that, his demeanor could relax. He read the name on the label and immediately thanked me.

“Yes, it’s here, thank you.”

I gave a smile with nothing else to say and headed for the doorknob of my door as I watched him out of the corner of my eye bending down to pick up his belongings. And finally, I quickly entered, realizing the ridiculous pajamas I was wearing. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassed, as if that action could erase how uncomfortable it was for me to realize that I had a considerably attractive neighbor. His aura, his appearance… I wished to study him a little more, but really there was nothing more to say, nothing more than, here’s your box. I bit my lip wondering if I should have spoken and started a conversation with him by saying the typical nonsense like “this mistake had never happened before… the courier must be new, just like you, since when did you move…” But precisely my outfit, relaxed and messy, and my appearance… if only I had a little more luck next time, I wouldn’t think of wasting it like this.

Minho Lee looked young, like a recent college graduate, or maybe someone in their final year. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I thought about how ridiculous it was to start creating more ideas about him. Checking the clock, I smiled realizing it was my working hour and that I could leave this apartment without excuse.

After minutes, I left; grabbing my apartment keys and without saying a word to my mother, as if we didn’t have the great freedom to know or communicate our next whereabouts. Or just any kind of communication. Living with her was strange.

The building’s elevator stopped working two weeks ago and still seems to be under repair, so I hurry down the stairs until I reach the main hall, where surprisingly, I manage to recognize whose broad back was in front of me, also leaving the building, but heading in a different direction.

Part of me felt the need to follow him just out of sheer curiosity, and the fact of feeling excitement studying a new individual was… indescribable. Who is Minho Lee.

TWO

word count: 2k

My whole world sadly revolved around an idiot who never knew how to love me, care for me, and protect me the way I would have wanted. The way a sensible father would care for his only daughter. Or at least that’s what everyone reminds me every year in every damn school; always asking about my father, wondering what his next book would be about… but I can’t even speak out loud about him, sometimes I wish he were a stranger, but I have the greatest fear that… what little I know about him encompasses important concepts of who or how he really is.

I was the only daughter of a well-known artist, the acclaimed writer Henry Waldrop, whose books were such a great success that each of them —almost all of them— were adapted in Hollywood, on the big screens, with actors of the caliber of Nicole Kidman or Brad Pitt, working with promising directors like Mendes and Fincher, winners of important awards, with Henry himself writing his own scripts on a couple of occasions, nothing took him out of Los Angeles. Waldrop has been hailed as the greatest American speaking in the world of literature since Fitzgerald and Hemingway by the Times, countless interviews in the New Yorker, and among other accolades.

He has been called everything; but I will never be able to call him dad again, not since I was 7 years old.

My relationship with him is cold, distant, and almost nonexistent; I always register my name as Calliope Moore, my mother’s last name, hoping not to be recognized in this small town, however, I can’t change it at school, for the moment I can’t change it legally either; so for now, I remain hidden like this. Meanwhile, in a part-time job after school and on weekends.

I was a child who could be considered naive and sweet, at least until I was 6 years old. Then I realized many things, that my father loved fame and excess in meaningless material things more than his family, that his writing is immature and difficult to read, never matured, I never understood why I had to do it before him, unfairly, or worse, do it for him. Despite that, I became my worst enemy, I became an admirer, not of him, but of the artistic world in which he lived; my only memories with him were his huge literary collection, his love for art and cinema; he had me captive every year of my life, I spent hours sitting in his library reading instead of having a conversation with him; I chose something from his extensive collection of movies to watch on DVD. All this on his forced weekends when he legally had to see me. And worst of all, I found refuge in letters… vaguely considering myself a writer; like he is.

I know there’s the silly idea that he really cares about me just because he’s my father, that everything can be fixed if only I would talk to him… but I wish it were that simple, the reason I preferred to be locked in his office was because I saw too many things I should never have seen, situations that a loving and careful father would ensure none of his children know about, I cried seeing women enter his apartment, thinking it wasn’t the kind of love he should give to mother, I didn’t understand why my friends at school could introduce them and I just heard ‘oh, he’s something like a celebrity, he’s just busy. Maybe someday you’ll be like him.’

I sigh and look from afar at the store manager smiling at me, it’s funny to consider he has a little crush on me and I can easily manipulate him. In a matter of seconds, the loud sound of the phone interrupts my daily thoughts about complaining about life.

“Blockbus-”

“Callie, it’s Sarah, can you urgently cover for me for two hours? I have something very important at university.”

I rolled my eyes at being interrupted and at hearing my coworker’s needy voice on the other end of the line, I didn’t need details, but I was surprised by the quick passage of time, so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and I had no idea.

“All right.”

“Thank you, I owe you one, Cal.”

I slid over the counter, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, bored. Tim, the manager, who is about 8 years older than me, took care of putting on music; I really didn’t have a specific plan for this Saturday, but two more hours of time were just time.

To kill the time, I moved around here and there, sorted movies, checked boxes of new tapes, read each synopsis, sorted each genre, and finally went to tidy up a bit under the main counter; customers came in sporadically and this was the next customer I heard since an hour ago. Tim greeted them with a good evening. I assumed they had to go between the aisles of shelves to pick out their movie or movies to rent, so I didn’t pay attention to them as I continued cleaning up a bit.

Indeed, it took about 10 minutes, when I heard the plastic fall onto the cold wood of the checkout counter and a male voice say, referring to Tim, “Are you checking out over here?”

“No, um, Callie-”

Tim spoke and before he finished his sentence, I hurried to stand up, finding the guy from this morning next to me, Minho Lee. He was still dressed in black, now with jeans, he was wearing bracelets on his left hand now. For a second, I couldn’t say anything, other than meet his gaze, but I immediately regained my composure and gave him a warm smile, but I feared that this time, for him, this client, it was a genuine one.

His gaze was tender for a second as he seemed slightly surprised by the sudden way I unexpectedly ‘sprung’ from the floor; then he softened it and kept eye contact with me.

“I’m here to return these,” he spoke, dragging a stack of 3 movies “and I’ll take these” he pointed to the stack on the right.

My gaze lowered to his hands on the tapes and on the DVDs themselves. I took the products to be returned and inspected each one of them: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Kill Bill, A Tale of Two Sisters. I gave him a smile, clearly judging, at least it was the fun part of the job; seeing what kind of person you were based on your taste in movies. And for Minho… there was no relation, a romantic comedy, Kill Bill, just Kill Bill and… a foreign psychological horror movie, judging by its cover, it seemed to be from Asia. If I weren’t trying to convince myself that someone considerably attractive like him is single, I would say the romantic comedy is something he would watch with some romantic date without a doubt.

“Name?” I raised my eyebrows, feigning disinterest as if I hadn’t seen him a couple of hours ago.

Judging by his look, it was clear that in some way he also recognized me.

“Under the name of Minho Lee, with an H between the N and O” he replied.

This Charming Man by The Smiths started playing and I noticed a slight movement of his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the melody; all while I typed his name into the computer. I was impressed by his profile, apparently, he’s a frequent customer judging by the long list of movies. He even has a membership, wow, I had never seen him here.

“Would you like the standard two-week rental?”

He nodded. I registered the new movies to rent, not without looking at them in detail: a foreign horror movie, Korean-looking, The Wig, Dracula 2, god, I heard the movie was terrible and Scream 2. I guess he wanted to watch only one genre for the moment, no more romantic comedies.

“That will be 33 dollars… 23 with the membership discount.”

“Thank you… Calliope” he read the tag with my name on my blue vest.

The story of my name is a bit funny, my father, a man without emotional responsibility whose heart was always incapable of falling in love, had his philosophy around the Greek mythology of the 9 muses, which is ironic considering the number of lovers he had, and, from what I heard, how much he promised each of the women he got involved with, that they were his muse and inspiration. My name comes from the muse of music, as he met my mother in college and that was her career at the time. My mother’s dream was always to direct orchestras, play the cello at important events in New York… but then I was born.

It would be a nice and moving story if any of my parents appreciated each other, but my mother made sure to make it clear how much she detested him and remind me what she could have done if I had never been born.

During that time, my father was working as an apprentice to a professor and substitute professor at the university. A literary cliché that inspired one of his books, by the way. Each page of the encounters with my mother severely altered, as she exclaimed, that never happened… if only things had been like that… Anyway, the book turned into a movie and considered a classic romance of the nineties. It was funny when someone came to rent it, since for now, I work at the town’s Blockbuster.

Anyway, my father had this immature belief that since I was the one growing in my mother’s womb, I would be the greatest force and source of inspiration for her, a muse. Sometimes I suppose my mother ended up hating me. She had to raise me and support Henry in his dream as a writer. I grew up and live in the same place as him; a wealthy area in northern New York state; where my teachers, absorbed by his work, expected innate talent from me.

But the pressure isn’t always on me. I have an older brother, a half-brother, named Apollo —a bit strange considering that literature says he was married to Calliope or something like that—; who likes to be recognized as Henry Waldrop’s legitimate son, with his gallery in Manhattan; however, he’s nothing more than another pretentious wannabe from the Upper East Side.

After Minho left, I pretended to close his membership and register the returned movies, but I was just snooping around, his birthday, October 25th, he’s 10 years older than me, he really doesn’t seem like it; it must be his Asian genetics I guess. His address, registered in the same building as mine, his email, his phone, and… the record of his rentals.

Not even 10 minutes passed when the sound of the door caught my attention again, Sarah had arrived, I didn’t notice the time so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and had no idea.

Sarah came in with a smile, dropping her bag on the counter making noise as she arrived.

“I’m here.”

I quickly closed the computer information and let out a jokingly annoyed sigh at her presence.

“Well, there are only two hours left until closing.”

“Three, we close later on Saturdays.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and took off my blue vest, walking to the other side of the counter, ready to grab my things and leave.

“Is this…?” Sarah mentioned, catching my attention.

I turned to look at her and she was holding the returned movies from a few moments ago. I forgot to organize them.

“Oh, let me-”

“Oh no” she interrupted me “Kill Bill and A Tale of Two Sisters, Korean horror? Did the handsome guy already stopped by?”

I frowned.

“He just left” said Tim.

Sarah made a disappointed face.

“I guess he comes often” I said.

“Of course, every Saturday at seven during my shift.”

I stared at her, perplexed.

“He’s definitely coming to see you, Sarah” Tim added, amused.

Sarah just smiled. I let out a reluctant laugh.

“I’m leaving” I announced.

“Wait, Callie, aren’t you going to organize them…” I heard Sarah exclaim just before leaving through the door, but I decided to ignore her.

She can do it alone. Maybe Minho can come back to help her.

#bang chan #bang chan smut #bangchan fanfic #bangchan #bang chan stray kids #skz bang chan #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #skz fanfic #bang chan fic #christopher bang #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic

[longlivedelusion]

Hiker's Delight

Summary: Bucky takes you on a hike. That's it. That's the fic. Boyfriend! Bucky x Reader. Established Relationship.

Warnings: Just fluff and some mentions of post- Hydra trauma, but nothing too crazy. Will proper edit later!

A/N: Quick lil fic I wrote cause I've been just wanting more boyfriend! bucky, domestic life vibes. I need fluffy and comforting energy rn and this is that. Enjoy!!

I make my way up the hill, huffing as I grab onto a nearby rock to pull myself up.

Bucky's behind me, not out of breath at all, the damn super soldier and his stamina and-

"Hey, you doin' ok?" I hear from behind me, Bucky leaning against a nearby rock.

I nod, looking back ahead as I haul myself up. "This is just a bit more intense than I thought, I'll be okay though." I let out another grunt and I push another step. He's stayed behind me the whole time even though I'm going at a snail's pace, according to him I'd probably drop off and get lost if he lead the way.

"You sure you don't want-"

"No. You are not gonna carry me. I'm gonna finish *grunt* this *huff* damn hike with my own two feet." 

We pull forward, the slopes a bit more steep than I expected which had me nearly sweating by the time we reached the edge. I looked up at the towering cliff knowing my arms were like jello, but I had to, needed to-

Bucky knelt down and held his hands out, a makeshift lift as he looked up at me. He quirked his brow.

"I can-" I start.

"Stop being stubborn and take the help doll. This cliff is a bit of a bitch, if you can't tell." He said waved his arm at the cliff to make a point.

I don't say anything and just sigh, knowing he was right. No use being overly stubborn about this. I prop my foot in his hands, griping where I could on the rock in front of me before Bucky said "Ready? 1... 2..."

And then I was up, the top of the rock pressed against my stomach as I hoisted myself over the rest of the way. I crawled forward, legs starting to feel a bit like jello now that I was on the ground. 

I watched as Bucky followed right after, easily pulling himself up like it was the easiest thing in the world. He stood up with ease, clearly not dealing with jello legs as I just kind of collapsed on my back and took some deep breaths. 

"Ugh, this damn body. Why must it betray me so." My dramatic ass said.

"Because you just went on a pretty intensive hike with barely any training even though I offered to have you train with me for like 2 months."

My noodle arm managed to raise up and wave him off, "Semantics."

He chuckled, taking a seat beside me and brushing the sweaty strands of hair off my face. "Want some water?"

I nod, eyes closed as my breathing stedied, my body starting to relax and calm down from the overexertion. I heard a bottle cap untwist so I opened my eyes to see Bucky reaching for my back. 

"Come on, you can prop up against me if you want." He said, hand gently pushing my back upwards. I push myself up and shift over, my back now facing the soldier's chest as he hands me the bottle.

"Oh fuck that's good," I sigh, taking a long swig before passing it over to Bucky. It takes me a moment, but after I blink a few times I suddenly realize the view before me.

Directly in front of us is the most beautiful mountain range I'd ever seen--trees lining the edges, eagles flying overhead, and a huge, crystal blue lake smack dab in the center. Cut off from civilization, this untouched land surrounded my mountains and only Mother Nature as its mistress.

"Wow, this is-" I start, eyes wide as they tried to take in every detail. The lighting, the shades of green, the textures--all of it... "breathtaking."

"I'm glad you like it." Bucky said softly, his voice a soft tickle behind my ear. His arms wrapped around my waist, tucking me a bit closer to him as I still sat in awe.

"Even though I'm not the biggest hiking fan-"

"Huh, couldn't tell." Bucky joked.

"-oh hush. I was saying, even though I'm not the biggest hiker, I'm really glad you asked me to do this." I reached for his hands on my waist and gave it a small squeeze.

"Thanks for coming. I'd only ever been here alone before, and it was for a mission. So I'm glad I get to actually enjoy it, and with some pretty decent company while we're at it." He kissed my head after, a smirk pressed against my hair.

"Oh decent huh? Just decent?" I looked up and over my shoulder into his blue eyes already looking down at me. That same smirk still plastered on his stupidly gorgeous face. "Says the man who practically begged to take me here."

He shrugged, "I don't remember begging."

"Oh? So all that whining and bribing with takeout was just a lapse in memory then?"

"Probably." He said, the nonchalance to his voice making it even more frustrating.

I booped his nose and gave him a scrunched smile. "Cheeky," I turned back to the view before me, settling back into Bucky. I reached into my bag and pulled out the small lunch I'd packed prior, some sandwiches and fruits laid out. "Can't think of a prettier place I've ever eaten," I said, mouth half full as I took a bite of my sandwich.

He grabbed one as well, arms brushing past mine as he hummed. "I need to take you out more then. Can't let this be the peak of our relationship now can I?" He took a big bite.

"I mean, as long as I can actually physically get to these places ok I'm down. My stubbornness can't handle another hike like this, or I'll try to climb Everest of something next time."

"Eh, Everest is overrated anyways." He said, taking a sip of his water.

I turned around in shock, "Seriously? You climbed Everest?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yup. Was kidding about the overrated thing though. Impressed?"

"Um, yeah I'm impressed! But when, how, what was it like?" I rambled on. I couldn't believe this man I'd come to know and love still had stuff like this just to learn about. A whole lifetime to know. 

He put the bottle down, thinking for a bit. "About ten years ago, when I was still in..." He hesitated, before moving on. Hydra. Something we both knew, understood. It didn't need to be said. "I remember bits and pieces, but it was cold as hell and windy. For a second there though, at the top of the mountain, I looked out and was me. Bucky. I didn't remember the last time I had been myself like that, and I just didnt know what to do I took a deep breath in, looked out at the mountains and sat there for... Fuck knows how long."

I set down my food and reached for his hand, my thumb tracing over the back as he spoke. "Is that why you like hiking and climbing so much?" 

He nodded, hand turning and holding mine. He look at the metal hand below him intertwined with mine before he spoke. "It can always pull me out of whatever headspace I'm in, I don't know. When shit doesn't work and the day feels like hell, being out here just... Helps. It reminds me of who I was or could be. I don't know." He shrugged, looking away at the view.

I squeeze his hand, eyes tracing back to his face. "I think I can sort of understand. Not the hiking or climbing but... Being by the sea does the same for me. Helps me remember that I'm alive and here."

He nods, his gaze still in the horizon. "It's like, no matter how fucked up the world gets or I get, nature doesn't judge. She justs gets it and doesn't care. Doesn't care about who I am or what I've done."

"Because she just sees chaos and order and gets that both are important." I add, fingers still tracing along the side of his face slowly. "The rest of it doesn't really matter."

"Exactly."

We sit in silence for a moment before I shift Bucky's face towards me. His eyes lock onto mine in silent question. 

"Thank you for bringing me here. And sharing this with me."

He smiles as he leans down, a small kiss pressed against my lips before he let his forehead drop to mine. "Happy to."

"So where to next?" I ask, pulling back enough to look at him. "Another mountain? The desert? A tundra?"

He smirks, "I got the perfect spot already in mind."

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #fluff #avengers bucky #bucky fluff fic #marvel #domestic bucky #established relationship #boyfriend bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

[rileys-battlecats]

I really like your work! I discovered it a while ago but recently found it again and explored your tumblr finally. I'm not sure if me deciding to spend a couple hours going through your entire posting history over curiosity about Mica clan is a compliment to you or says something about me but I did it.

It was really neat seeing your Shut Eye video. Also, just to satisfy my own curiosity: it looks like of the thirteen you have Heroncall, Oriolewing, Addereye, Larksong/star, Foxjaw, Owlpounce, Buckfoot, Snaptail and her two kits, another queen and her kit, and a random cat. Are you willing to share any information about the other queen and the random cat. But it was nice to see a bit about where the clan came from, and if your ever decide to make a video about the clan's founding know I will eagerly await it.

Also, thanks so much for the family tree. Part of the reason I went through your entire tumblr was because I was curious about the details behind the clan so it's nice to have that, if a tad too late for me to save a couple hours. Also, is Heroncall mates with Buckfoot? And it looks like Robinsong may have mated with the kit in the Shut Eye video that belongs to the other queen, am I right? Also, it's really neat to sea Owlpounce and Foxjaw being siblings. It makes sense with how fluffy they are, and Embertooth is too. Also, it's really funny comparing Owlpounce and Foxjaw with their social skills and steady personality to Embertooth, who is somewhat prickly. I can also see Puddlepaw being related to the three, maybe as a cousin to Embertooth? They're very fluffy and I can see their personality as less social but just as steady as Owlpounce and Foxjaw. Is Orchidstar related to Owlpounce? When I saw her she reminded me of Owlpounce and she's also fairly fluffy.

Side not: With how depleted the clan first was after the disaster, and with how they picked up Birchspeckle just for her abilities, was there a time where the clan was friendly to outsiders just afterwards? Before the illness and attacks I can see them almost needing the extra cats. It would make it horribly ironic how they isolate Mudpaw for all that several of them would also be only half-clan, and explain all the question marks you have in the family tree. They're cats that were encountered and helped create kittens but weren't necessarily interested in joining.

Sorry for the length of this by the way.

ok first of all I love super long asks so no need to apologize HAHA

The unnamed background cats haven't really been thought through at this point, but the random cat (not the queen or kit) is Addereye's apprentice at the time of the disaster! Not sure what happens to him, but it can be assumed he lives with the clan and probably dies before the events of Mudpaw's story.

Good eye spotting Buckfoot on the family tree! I had the idea in the back of my mind of them being one of Mudpaw's ancestors ever since I designed them. I've said before on here but Micaclan doesn't really endorse the whole "healers can't have families" rule, and they especially didn't care for it after the disaster, when their numbers were so low. Plus, I like the idea of Mudpaw reminding Owlpounce of her old mentor :') I also like the idea of Puddlepaw and Orchidstar being related to Owl, Fox, and Ember! having all the fluffy cats related to each other is so funny to me ^^

Directly after the disaster, I imagine the clan sort of relied upon the help of strangers in order to survive. Maybe they even took some into the clan at first, like Birchspeckle. But I think the thing that really started their sort of isolationist-tendencies was the slow loss of their culture. I think it's entirely probable that, in taking outsiders into their group, they began losing some of the traditions and beliefs that made them Micaclan. If the outsiders they allowed to join didn't care for the idea of Starclan, or for the idea of caring for the weakest among them before themselves, or for following the warrior code... would they even be Micaclan anymore? After losing their home, their families, their ancestral territory, their very connection to Starclan... would they, the last survivors of Micaclan, maybe even the last survivors of any clan, be the ones to allow their traditions and way of life to be lost forever?

It's this fear, I think, that caused Micaclan to veer so sharply into isolation. Larkstar has many flaws, and even if it stemmed from a desire to see her and her clan's way of life preserved, she still encouraged an unhealthy distrust of outsiders in the clan. By doing what she thought best at the time, doing what she thought would keep them and their way of life safe, she ended up creating a culture of isolationism, and this very isolationism harms the clan and its members. Birchspeckle was made to feel unwanted by the clan that raised her, Possum was fully disowned for wanting to leave the clan and explore, and Mudpaw was treated badly because of the clan's subconscious dislike for anyone they consider to be other. The changes the clan underwent did preserve most of their culture, it's true, but it also meant that they lost one of the core ideals that Micaclan was built on; Micaclan was formed by non-clan cats who decided they wanted to come together and embody a code of ethics that they found admirable. Micaclan was never formed on the basis of blood!

#ask #micaclan #mudlore #FINALLY i can explain micaclan's Whole Deal with outsiders #it stemmed from a very real fear of their entire culture being wiped out #but in response they swung so far into the opposite direction that they ended up losing part of themselves anyway #Micaclan was always welcoming of outsiders #the clan itself was formed by outsiders! #the sudden shift into xenophobia is as much a distruction of their culture as anything else