#I'm still new here lolol

[fallstaticexit]

Pretty sure Sister Agnes works for Tumblr because I got flagged for two girls kissing?? Good thing I made a Pillowfort because umm...they are not going to like Part III of The Art of Being Seen.

[thingswhatareawesome]

¨

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch4. in a mother’s eyes

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, and have been taking care of your sick mother 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 to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan 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, 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, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 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. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue. 

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders. 

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them. 

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied. 

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you. 

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come. 

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed. 

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too. 

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that. 

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes. 

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict. 

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day. 

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly. 

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.” 

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them. 

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute. 

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together. 

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path. 

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy. 

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side. 

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds. 

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place. 

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add. 

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one. 

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight. 

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too. 

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his. 

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too. 

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it. 

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around. 

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight. 

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason. 

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion. 

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now. 

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt. 

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm. 

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face. 

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.” 

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat. 

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you. 

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days. 

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world. 

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore. 

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet. 

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry. 

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

.

.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐘!𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐗 𝐏𝐎𝐂!𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐀/𝐍: let me know if anyone wants to be on the tag list for any of my other stories! 💖

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: yes i did go back and update this lolol 👍

you had seen the ad's for it, you had seen it all over social media, you had seen it everywhere and you had become completely infatuated with it. the "pheromone perfume" had become so viral, that it was almost every video you saw. so you had to buy it.

see chris had no idea what was happening. when you told him you were buying something special, his mind went immediately to some lingerie you were going to surprise him with later.

when the package did finally arrive, you were grinning from ear to ear. unboxing it from its fragile packaging, you finally held it in your hands, thinking it's the best seven dollars you had ever spent

when date night finally came, it was a friday. chris had just gotten back from filming with his brothers and they all wanted to go out to dinner. he obviously told you, i mean cmon, your his girlfriend. chris almost bursted through the door and sprawled out all over the bed.

"hi to you too, chris." you giggled, surprised by his actions. he leans his head up and gives you a wave.

"hard day?" you decide you need more of an answer out of him.

"mhm." he mumbles through the comforter, but you could still her him bluntly. he finally picks his head up. "nick and matt were arguing and getting on my ass the entire fucking video," chris huffs, as he gets up to pace the room. "and now they wanna go to dinner to apologize."

your lifted a brow. "are you gonna go?"

"duh, i can never turn down some food." he makes his way over to you. "also hi my gorgeous, beautiful girlfriend. you look so pretty right now." he kisses your forehead.

"hi baby, so am i invited to this dinner?" you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

"of course, ma, be ready in like 20, i'm hungry as fuck." he breathes out, taking off his shirt and finding a better one to put on.

you smile to yourself and go to put on a better outfit.

after what felt like 20 hours of getting ready, you finish and you decide to top it off with your newest purchase. the pheromone perfume.

you lather the roll of perfume on your neck, wrists, hands, arms, and down your thighs. you giggle to yourself, knowing how chris is gonna react. speaking of chris, here he is bursting through the door.

"hey, you ready?" he looks up from his phone and walks over to you.

"mhm." you slide a ring on your finger and clasp on your necklace. "lets go."

you get up from his gaming chair, heels tapping on the hardwood floor, and walk past him. he's looking down when you walk past him but as soon as he catches your scent, he's all over you.

"is that a new perfume your wearing?" he questions, you grin and tilt your head to the side. "no? the same one i've been wearing."

he walks over to you and shifts your hair so your neck is fully exposed to him. he takes one big wiff. "hey, i feel violated!" you laugh.

"definitely not the one i've smelled on you." he puts your hair back and hugs you.

"mm you smell so good, ma." he breathes on your neck and you try and push him off.

"thank you, now cmon can we eat now?"

you are currently sitting next to chris in the car. he has his head on your shoulder, basically in the crook of your neck, still breathing in your scent. "you smell so good, ma," he waves his hands at you so he can get more of the scent.

"what is that?" he questions. you shrug your shoulders in sarcasm.

"move to my lap." he demands. you look at him like he has said the most disrespectful shit in his life. he clears his throat. "can you please sit on my lap my precious beautiful girlfriend?"

you laugh, "cause you know fucking better." you move onto his lap and his arms go to your waist and his puts his head on your shoulder again.

at the resturant, he doesn't even bother to sit on the opposite side of you at first.

"chris go to that side, you know how i feel about couples sitting on the same side of the booth as others."he complains, but reluctantly agrees.

"you just smell so good, it's actually hurting my head a little." he chuckles.

after dinner, you guys both drove home and got ready for bed. washing your face and listening to music, you feel a pair of hands go to your hips. you look in the mirror and see the familiar face of your boyfriend.

"hi chris." you say flatly, being over to wash your face in the sink.

chris smirks and presses up against you. "hi ma,"

you look up from washing your face and put a towel on it to dry it. "i'll come cuddle in a bit  just need to finish-"

your cut off by chris turning you to face him and kissing you. the kiss didn't last very long. it was needy from chris and relaxed from your prespective. after you were done kissing, he breathes out. "come to bed now, you just smelt so good today, all for me, i gotta repay you somehow."

you laugh, "chris your insane."

"insane for you." and with that, and a slap on your ass, he's out the room, waiting for you so he can repay you.

[infamous-if]

✮ CH. 2 PART I ✮ 92k (+86k) -> 178k ✮

PLAY CHAPTER 2: PART I

It's here! First, sorry for the long wait. Chapter 2 has proven to be a behemoth, and I'd gotten sick this past week, my computer broke, my documents went kaput and I had to do some Frankensteining for the last few pages of this part. I'm not too worried, as Part II update can help smooth out all the kinks. I will definitely be looking for beta testers once chapter 2 is complete ha

Anywho! Enough about my problems. This demo update adds 86k words (86, 818 to be exact) and is the first part of a two part chapter. Which means the narrative in this chapter is not complete, but I kind of closed it off at a pretty satisfying place. As with every Infamous chapter, this is very character driven. So have fun!

What to expect in Chapter Two PART I:

get on the bus & deal with the consequences of your actions lol

arrive to your first tour stop and do your first gig...which might get messy (both literally and figuratively)

hang with a familiar father and daughter duo

have some heart to hearts/ some cheeky little POV passages

meet more BOTB crew and learn exactly what's in store for you this season

get roped in some ValenReign mess !

Maintenance:

this chapter has a lot of flavor text, or at least, more than the demo did, so if there are any errors or if there are lines that don't correspond with your choices, please let me know so i can fix that!

you will no longer be forced to write your own lyrics and the update will offer you pre-written lyrics by yours truly. im not t swift so i would advise you not to expect professional level songwriting, but they work well enough lolol

lyrics page is up as well as stats, but i don't really like the system i used to balance it, mostly because new...stat things will be added as the story goes on, so that's still getting reworked. still, good enough for now, as there are some personality stat checks!

Prologue and Chapter 1 errors/typos/grammatical bits fixed. (Wouldn't be surprised if I missed some though...) + variables updated.

Scenes not showing up fixed. hopefully, that huge error in which it throws you back to the fight after returning to the house is fixed (It was a bit wonky for me, hopefully it works for everyone else)

Stat and relationship pages updated ( + lyric page to look back at all your lyrics).

Can choose to be asexual and any sexual scenes will be skipped or replaced with romantic scenes. Flavor text in which MC displays any sort of sexual desire will be skipped. (This option comes up during Dakota's party scene. If not, it will show up when it presents itself again.) (Nothing sexual has come up yet, but if there are any scenes or even lines/ internal thoughts that should be skipped or changed for Asexual MCs, please let me know!)

If there are errors or anything, im always open. I've play tested but you girl is always prone to errors. As always, thank you for your love and enthusiasm! It makes me really happy and motivates me to keep writing ! <3

(Also, if you're thinking "omg amy how did you go from 65k to 86k?!" i don't want to talk about it /j)

See you on tour!

[rayroseu]

(short post) i wonder what theyre going to do at the shaftlands lol, are they going to be acting in a film??? in a musical??? perhaps modelling???

it makes me crack up that its highly likely that the event will be revolved around entertainment industry and the character line-up makes sense so far like:

Vil, the renowned actor and model from Shaftlands

Jamil, has skills suitable for the entainment industry; singing, dancing, and keeping a face

Azul, a businessman who knows how to make himself look good and recognize the power of influence

like all of them exudes an air of refinement yk what i mean...

and theres our bestie, Ace Trappola 🤣🤣🤣

Gonna crack up if theres going to be a scene from Shaftlands broadcasted live and Deuce will just see his roommate is kickstarting his acting career on television XDDD Its like seeing your goofy friend who likes to play pranks and only knows how to pose with heart hands on fashion magazine JDJAJSJ

I'm so excited for the cards 🥺💕💞💖 especially Ace lmaoo i wonder how he'll pull off a theme like Vil's new SSR?? It looks elegantly dark and sultry lol i could never imagine Ace with those traits,,,, i wonder if he'll still pull off his heart hands pose MJDKAJS

also good bye to ace trappola and yuu (bcs this is a hometown event so theres probably yuu content here ehehe), thoughts and prayers to these 1st years lolol imagine a roadtrip with jamil azul and vil... super ultra surveillance over the inexperienced babies here... 😭😭💔 no time to goof around... 💥💥

[tojisbbg]

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚

❝and i know that i've been the worst, but i love you better.❞  

♡ toji fushiguro ♡

a/n: need him to fill all of my holes asap! 🥰 also, two posts in one day?!

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: ex!toji fushiguro x fem!reader, age gap!! (reader is 23 and toji is 31), smutty smut (lolol), not edited.

---

it's the middle of december, the air was crispy cold outside and despite begging your landlord to put the heater on blast in your apartment; your king-sized bed always felt like an ice plate.

of course, the size of the bed was intended to be shared with another human being. your boyfriend— well, now ex-boyfriend; toji. however, the breakup between you both was sudden, ending a little bit before thanksgiving.

this was the first time in three years that you've gone back to your parent's house for the holidays without toji. it was dreadful, having to distance yourself from nosy relatives who were bombarding you with questions about where your boyfriend was.

not having the energy or heart within you to explain the whole story, you gave them the excuse that he was working on thanksgiving. it was the most believable excuse you could come up with, as your boyfriend was quite much older than you, by eight years to be precise.

of course, your parents were strictly against your relationship at first, but, just as how toji was able to charm himself into your heart, it didn't take much longer until your parents would give in and melt. toji was mature, charming and he knew how to handle you.

you both loved to spend the holidays together, not to mention that his birthday overlapped during new years. now, you're only looking forward to forgetting the vast memories of him, which continue to haunt you this rough winter season.

you were trying to find the perfect position to fall asleep in, but, your room was so cold that it made it hard for you to concentrate on sleep. it was snowing outside, and the landlord clearly didn't give a single flying fuck about your comfort.

after a few minutes of fighting with yourself, you finally could feel your eyes grow heavy with sleep. it wouldn't be long until you could hear your bedroom door crack open, eyebrows pinching in confusion.

you couldn't tell if you were hallucinating or almost about to get kidnapped or murdered in the comforts of your own house.

your heart began to thump in your chest, feeling scared minute by minute as you could hear the heavy footsteps of the figure approach your bed. you regretted everything, you wanted toji by your side to protect you from whatever monster stood in front of your body, to hold you tight in his arms to keep you warm like every year because he knew that you get cold easily.

you missed toji.

suddenly, the blanket tucked under your back and butt got lifted before there was a dip in the bed behind you. a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist, followed by the familiar scent of the cologne and body wash that is engraved into your brain.

"toji?" you mustered up the courage to call out the name you prayed to god for. he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, and just by feeling the rough skin of his lip scar on your flesh, you knew that it was him.

"it's just me, i'm here." he mumbled into your skin before pressing a tender kiss on your shoulder.

"why are you here?" you sighed, not even bothering to tell him to stop his ministrations of kissing your nape and rubbing his hands on your hips.

"had a feeling that you were cold." toji answered in a gruff voice before yawning.

"you know we can't-"

"go to sleep, y/n. we'll talk about it tomorrow." he cut you off before scooping your body closer to his. if it weren't for the fact that this was by far the warmest you've felt in your own bed within these past two weeks, maybe you would've screamed at him before kicking him out.

---

you were grateful to whoever proposed the idea that college student should get long breaks for christmas. it was still pretty early in the morning, maybe around six in the morning? you were warm and tucked away into toji's chest the entire night as you both peacefully slumbered.

you stirred awake when you felt disconnected from his touch, forcing an eye open to see that toji turned to face the other way; leaving you could and abandoned. you whined in annoyance, scooting over to him as you tugged on his shirt. toji, who was snoring in deep sleep, groaned from the gentle shakes.

"hm?" he hummed, eyes still closed, but he was half-awake now.

"cold." you briefly said, making him let out a deep sigh.

"come here." toji replied with a groggy voice as he opened his arms to invite you into his embrace once again. you snuggled closer to him as he hugged you tight.

yet, it seemed like that wasn't enough.

you kept fidgeting in his arms, continuing to either tighten your hold on his large and beefy figure and rolling more into him until you finally rolled on top of him. you were literally holding onto him like a koala.

"jesus, i'm not going anywhere, you brat." toji groaned, feeling your weight on his body. you sat up, now straddling his waist, letting out an annoyed huff. toji decided to watch you pout through his half-lidded eyes.

suddenly, you began to take off your shirt and the hello kitty printed pajama pants you wore, roughly throwing them on them floor. toji's eyes widened as you were now sitting on top of him, half-naked.

you gave him a small glare before pointing at his t-shirt and sweats.

"off. now." you demanded, getting off of toji as you watched him sit up with his bed messy hair. he obliged to your command, not finding the energy to argue back with you or ask any questions this early in the morning.

the man just wanted to go back to sleep.

so, toji did as you said, taking off all his clothes until he was left only in his boxers. you took a minute to soak in the sight of his godly sculpted body as he slipped back into the covers.

without any hesitation, you threw yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. it took everything in you to not moan out in bliss as the skin to skin touch between you two immediately transmitted his body warmth to you.

toji's body was perfect for hugging during any season, especially winter time. he was like a giant and beefy teddy bear to cuddle with, his body being a natural furnace.

without thinking, you rubbed your body onto his, unknowingly grinding on his crotch. toji's breath hitched, feeling his cock harden even more than before when he saw your half-naked glory after two weeks.

"feels so warm, toji." you mumbled, pressing yourself into him as your face was buried into the crook of his neck. toji ran his fingers on the back of your thighs, while his other hand rested on top of your ass.

"yeah? i could make you feel even warmer." he smirked, bucking his hips a little up to make you feel his erection. you gasped, feeling his cock throb below your pussy, the thin fabric of your panties and his boxers not providing much of a barrier.

"t-toji.." you stammered, cheeks growing warmer against the flesh of his chest. his skin smelled like bare vanilla with a mix of cologne, it was almost intoxicating.

"shh... let me please you, sweetheart." toji softly whispered, a strong arm curling against your waist while he turned to his side, gently laying you on the bed. you were now facing the wall with toji behind you, his hands sneaking up back before unclasping your bra.

with one swift motion, your bra joined the rest of the heap of clothes scattered on the floor. toji's hand found its way to your tits, groping them as you let out a whimper.

"haven't seen these pretty tits in so long. can i give them a little kiss, darling?" he sweetly asked, your mind fogged up with nothing but the thought of toji. nonetheless, you nodded your head as you leaned a little back.

toji lifted his head before leaning forwards to give each of your nipples a kiss. the contact of his soft lips and your sensitive hard buds was enough to drive you off the edge. but, knowing toji, he's one playful man.

without a warning, he latched his mouth onto your tits. his warm tongue swirled around your swollen bud as he suckled on your nipple.

"mhmm... toji." you moaned, your hands stroking his hair as he sucked and kissed the flesh of your tits until it left purplish hickeys on your skin.

with one final kiss on the valley between your tits, he went back to his original position. toji relaxed behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. he noticed how you were trying to discretely rub your thighs together to create some kind of friction that would grant you the relief your aching pussy needed.

"need something, y/n?" toji teased, but you were too stubborn to give in. toji's fingers were freely roaming all over your body, from dancing on your spine to rubbing your hips and ass.

"n-no." you stammered, desperately wishing for him to plunge his fingers or cock inside your cunt right now. toji's fingers played with the waistband of your panties.

"hm? you sure? seems like you need something... or rather, this sweet little pussy of yours need something from me, no?" he spoke in a husky voice, the tips of his fingers gently rubbing your pussy on top of your panties. your breath hitched, feeling him press on your clothed clit before tracing the outline of your slit. there was a visible wet patch created from your slick, making toji smirk.

"so wet for me. you missed me, didn't you?" toji asked, but you were too focused on his movements. the lack of response made him a little upset, so he gently pinched the plush flesh of your thigh to get your attention.

"oww!" you winced in pain, looking over your shoulder to throw him a glare.

"i asked you a question, baby. don't ya know it's rude to not answer your boyfriend?" he snickered, making you roll your eyes at his justification.

"ex-boyfriend." you corrected him, making him scoff.

"oh, is that so? so you'd let your ex-boyfriend play with this pretty pussy of yours, hm? slut yourself out for him? talk to me, sweetheart." toji's hand slipped inside your panties, his middle finger sinking into your wet folds. your eyes rolled back as he rubbed your sopping wet pussy at a pleasurable pace, the words in your throat getting stuck.

"f-fuck." you moaned out, feeling toji draw circles on your throbbing clit. you swallowed harshly, as toji began to rub your clit at a pretty fast pace before slowing down and sliding his fingers down to your pulsating hole.

toji shoved two of his fingers inside without a warning, making a whimper escape your lips. he was unforgiving, scissoring his long and thick digits in and out of your hole at a cruel rhythm; stretching your hole.

"nghh~ feels so good!" you panted like a bitch in heat, feeling the familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. toji felt your walls clamping on his fingers, a small smirk etching on his lips as he added onto your pleasure by rubbing your clit with his thumb.

your eyes rolled back, shutting your thighs around his wrists as a shaky hand came down to halt his movements.

"t-too much." you squealed, vision becoming blurry as you couldn't even form coherent sentences.

"you could take it, baby." toji encouraged, prying your legs open with his free hand as he gave you the most jaw dropping orgasm just from simple foreplay.

you saw white, creaming on his fingers as you let out a guttural moan.

"that's it, there you go, pretty." he cooed, helping your calm down from your orgasm as you tried to snap back into reality.

"holy shit." you breathed out, now laying on your back as you turned your head to face toji and look at him through half-lidded eyes.

you took note of the details that were already carved inside your brain of the man who owned your heart and soul. his beautiful ebony locks that always seemed dishevealed yet so soft to your touch; smelling like your shampoo because he's too lazy to get his own. his sharp grey eyes that always tease you. the supple fat of his cheek that he swore he'd get rid off but always rethinks his decision every time you pinch or bite them. his plump lips that kiss you stupid even if they're a little chapped sometimes because he's a little forgetful.

and of course, your favorite feature, the scar on the corner of his lip that you love to kiss because it's unique to him.

this was the man that you were so madly in love with, toji fushiguro. you fought wars to be with him, to get approval from your strict family, because he was an older man. but, not once have you ever regretted your decision.

to which, you were now thinking, was the reason that caused you both to break up even worth it?

"missed you." a shy glimmer graced your eyes as you mumbled those two words, catching toji's attention. he gave you a boyish smile, grazing his thumb along your bottom lip.

"yeah?" toji huskily chuckled, making you nod as you lifted yourself up before climbing on top of him. your disheaveled hair curtained his face as you leaned down to finally press your lips on him. the kiss was needy and messy, feeling toji push your head further towards him, his tongue sucking and biting your bottom lip.

you let out a whimper, opening your mouth to grant the wet muscle permission to explore the caverns of your mouth. you unintentionally began to grind your hips on his hard bulge, the wet patch on your cotton panties now dampening the front of his boxers.

toji let out a gruff groan, his hand going down to caress the supple fatty flesh of your ass before giving it a small spank, making you jolt.

you gave a tender kiss on the side of his mouth where his scar was before kissing along the outline of his sharp jaw. your wet kisses moved down to his neck as you sucked purplish bruises on his skin, all while he was groping your ass and thighs.

your mouth was practically drooling at the thought of having your boyfri— ex-boyfriend's cock inside your mouth again. you eagerly tugged down his boxers, his hard dick springing out and slapping his lower stomach.

toji was so incredibly manly, his body was gorgeous; as if the greek gods themselves scultped him. it was no use of denying the fact that you loved beefy men who could crush you in seconds with their body weight. toji was fit, his pecs were defined yet so soft; his toned abs and muscular biceps— don't forget those killer thighs and back muscles as well.

the cute happy trail leading down to the monsterous rod in his pants, which you clearly missed so dearly. you watched how his cock throbbed, the two twin veins that ran on the side of his shaft were a little swollen and his tip was red and angry from neglect; drooling with his sticky precum.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock, stroking it slowly before thumbing his tip, spreading the bead of his precum as toji groaned.

his thumb came down to brush against your lips before intruding to part them. he bit his lips, the pads of his finger feeling the wet muscle in your mouth. you licked a stripe up his shaft, starting from the base until the tip.

"fuck you're so pretty, sweetheart." a grunt left his lips, and before you knew it, the mushroom head of his cock was right in front of your lips. he rubbed the tip on your lips, the wet feeling of his precum smearing on them. you slightly opening your mouth, slowly licking the tip as you got a taste of him.

you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking on it like candy before deepthroating as much of his cock as your mouth could take. it was almost impossible to suck and fuck the entire length of toji's dick because he was a good eight inches at least.

but, nonetheless, you tried your best to take as much in and let your hands do what was left out.

not giving you much time, toji grabbed the sides of your head before slamming his hips up into your mouth as his patience was running thin, making you gag. it seemed that all the self-control that he maintained so well all this time has completely vanished by now.

his moves were animalistic, starved and desparate.

toji began to thrust into your mouth, feeling the flesh of your cheek welcome his cock. your tongue dragged up and down his shaft, sucking in the shear length of his cock whenever he was forcing it down your throat. the twin veins grazing against the walls of your throat and against the surface of your tongue.

"you're gonna feel me exactly here." he commented with a smirk, his hand coming to your neck to slightly squeeze the area he was speaking about. he grabbed your hand before placing it on that place, then he took a hold of both sides of your cheeks.

with one long and deep thrust, he kept his word and you felt the bulge on your throat where his cock was lodged in. tears welled in your eyes, your throat burned both from the friction of his dick and the lack of oxygen.

but toji just wanted to see how long you'd last before tapping out. of course, he has no intention in killing you, but he wants to test your limits.

he continued to rut his hips, drool trickling down his cock as you choked and gagged, trying so hard to control those reflexes. but to toji, it felt like heaven because every time the muscles in your mouth and throat contracted, it hugged his cock in such a welcoming way.

"so close." he moaned out, eyes rolling back as his dick twitched inside the wet hole of your mouth that he ruthlessly fucked. you tried to breath through your nose, but it was getting a little difficult.

you felt the rush of warm liquid fill your mouth before sliding down your throat, opening your screwed shut eyes to glance up at toji. on the other hand, his eyes were closed tightly, breathing becoming erratic as he groaned in pleasure.

you tapped his thighs aggresively, wanting him to pull out before you lose your senses. he listened, taking his cock out of your mouth as you sat on your knees completely breathless. you coughed a couple of times, holding your throat as you rubbed it from the aching pain you felt.

your eyes were red and cheeks were stained with the tears that stained your rosy cheeks, eyelashes wet from it as well. you lifted your head to face him, seeing how flushed his face was as sweat coated his forehead. your eyes trailed south, seeing his cock dripping with your saliva and his cum.

"fucking asshole, you almost killed me." you said in between your breaths, glaring at him and he chuckled. leaning closer to your trembling body as he sat up, toji gently kissed your earlobe, making you shudder.

"had to make sure my little princess wasn't going around sucking other people's dick. i trained your throat pretty well, huh? but now i gotta check if this little cunt of yours has been loyal too." toji snickered, turning your body around in the position of reverse cowgirl.

you yelped once you felt him hook his forearms on the back of your knees, before pushing it up until it was besides your chest. your legs were now spread wide open as toji put you in a full nelson, his cock rubbing between your wet folds, nudging your clit as some points.

"put it in, baby." toji encouraged, pressing soft kisses to your temple. your hand went down to grab the shaft of his cock, giving it a few pumps before rubbing it on your sopping wet pussy to lubricate it. as his tip got caught in your hole, you gently and slowly began to enter the inches of his monster cock.

"ngh~ fuck, it's so big." you winced in pain, forgetting how painful the stretch of toji's cock was. it didn't matter how many times he fucked you dumb on his dick, your pussy would always be too tight for his thick meat.

"but you took it like a good girl, didn't you?" he praised, planting his feet on the bed before thrusting up into you. you moaned loudly, feeling his cock rubbing your wet walls so deliciously. the squealching sound of your pussy was pornographic.

"this pussy is mine— fuck, none of those stupid college boys could ever fuck you like i could. you're mine and only mine." toji moaned, his thrusts getting faster as his balls smacked against your ass, your hand coming down to rub your clit.

"hnghh, only yours. please! ahh~ feels so good." you were delirious, eyes rolling back from pleasure as you began to see white. your thighs were shaking as toji's thrusts began to get sloppy.

his cock twitched inside your hole, a ring of white cream already forming at the base of his dick from how much your pussy leaked on him, coating his balls in a shear white gloss.

the sticky shlick shlick sound echoed through the four walls of your shared room. tears pricked your eyes as you could feel the huge wave of your orgasm coming at you as your stomach began to tighten.

toji could sense that you're getting close, your walls clamping down on him as the tip of his dick kissed your cervix with each thrust. you turned your head to side, catching his lips in a messy and saliva filled kiss.

you both moaned into each other's mouth, cries of pleasure leaving your lips as you gushed on his cock.

"f-fuck, it's too much!" you mewled, feeling overstimulated as toji fucked you thrugh your orgasm.

"you could take it, gonna breed this pussy. maybe i'll fuck a baby into you, yeah?" toji panted and you were so cock drunk that you mindlessly nodded your head.

"yes, yes, please— fuck, give me a baby." you whimpered, and your voice was so sultry that toji came so hard inside your cunt. the thick and sticky ropes of his cum coated your walls as you shuddered from the warm feeling of being filled up with his cum.

his cock slid out, your hole being creampied to the brim as both of your cum began to gush out of your cunt. you rolled off of him, now laying besides toji as you both tried to catch your breath.

"i love you, y/n." toji confessed, turning his head to the side to look at you. that soft and lovesick expression painted on his flushed face made your heart jump.

you gave him a gentle smile, scooting closer to him before wrapping your arms and legs around him, pressing a tender kiss on his lips.

"i love you too, toji. i'm sorry for everything, i was just so angry and frustrated because it felt like forever that we've spent time together. i-i.... i got insecure and thought that you found someone better than me." your face dropped in sadness, a lump forming in your throat as you tried your best to not break into tears. toji frowned upon hearing your words before stroking your cheek.

"and why the hell would you ever think that?" he questioned and you shrugged.

"i know i'm a little immature sometimes, but i really do love you. i just don't want you to get tired of me and find a woman your age who's more mature. you know how badly people talked about us before and still do." you sighed, making toji scoff.

"fuck those people, you're mine and i'm yours. no one could ever change that, got that princess? those few weeks i got a little busy because i was working long hours to book a flight to venice for us to spend christmas together." toji smiled, making your eyes widen in shock.

"no way." you gasped, but he grinned and nodded his head, making you squeal in excitement.

"we leave next week." he informed, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. you hummed in response and hugged him tight.

"ugh, i missed my teddy bear so much... spent so many lonely nights sleeping alone." you complained, and toji rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

"my poor baby, how could i make it up to you?" he cooed.

"let me put my hello kitty stickers on your dick." you gave him a cheeky smile, making him narrow his eyes.

"naughty girl." toji snickered, his hand going down in a sly manner to grab his cock and without warning, he entered it inside your already swollen hole once again.

your breath hitched, feeling your boyfriend latch his mouth onto your nipple.

"my pretty princess." he mumbled, giving you a small wink before licking your nipple playfully.

toji couldn't wait to give you your surprise in venice, the small box resting nicely in his coat pocket.

---

BONUS:

"tojiiiii~ toji! look!!" you ran from the hotel bathroom to the bed where your fiance laid down. his sharp grey eyes peered up at you in curiosity as you showed him your phone, the diamond on your ring finger shimmering under the hotel lighting.

"what am i looking at?" toji cocked an eyebrow, watching a girl having her face squished by a guy's bicep.

"i want you to do that to me." you gave him an innocent look, and toji smirked at your request. he laid his arm flat on the bed and ushered you to rest your face.

you did so and as toji flexed his arm, your cheeks got squished and forced your lips into a pout. toji chuckled at the adorable sight of you and leaned his head down to press a tender kiss on your pouted lips.

"gonna marry you and make you mine forever."

[archangeldyke-all]

ok hear me out. reader baked 🍃 infused brownies or whatever & forgot to tell sevika they’re infused, so one morning sev eats a few and is belligerently high for the rest of the day. like, she cant do any work because she’s so fucked up…reader comes home to sevika stoned as hell & realizes what she’s done💀 lolol

LMAOOOOOOO gonna make this ceo sev because i miss her i feel like we haven't heard from her in a while

men and minors dni

you've been out of the office all day.

about once a month, sevika and the leads of each department will assemble a list for you-- things that they need or need to get done that have no in-office solution. usually it's small things. new mouse pads, fertilizer for the plants around the office, coffee filters and snacks for the break room: stuff like that.

then, you just spend the day shopping and doing little errands.

which is what you're doing right now. you just got the wheels on jimena's office chair tightened-- she'd been rolling all over her cubicle these past few week-- and now you're on your way to grab a quick lunch before you head to the grocery store and stock up on the office's favorite snacks.

your phone rings as you pull out of the parking lot. you quickly answer, putting it on speaker.

"hello?"

"hey it's raphael." raphael says over the phone. they sound... worried. you've never heard raphael worried before.

"what's up?"

"uh..." they trail off. "how long 'til you get back to the office?" they ask.

"two or three hours, why?" you ask.

"sevika's..." they trail off. your stomach sinks, and you pull over and park your car.

"sevika's what? is she okay?" you ask, your heart hammering in your chest.

"she's fine! she's fine, don't worry." raphael assures. "she's just... i dunno."

"you don't know?" you ask. "is she sick? or...?"

"here, lemme just put her on the phone for you." raphael says.

there's some shuffling, and then sevika's voice. "baby?" she sounds fine. a little sleepy. your panic subsides, but your confusion picks back up. you check your mirrors then pull a u-turn, heading back to the office.

"hi honey, what's goin' on?" you ask.

sevika bursts into giggles, and despite your confusion and worry, a small smile breaks out on your lips at the sound. "i'm good!" she laughs. "i dunno why raph's all worried but 'm allllll good baby." she laughs.

you snort, shaking your head. "put 'em back on the phone for me, love."

"mmmm... no." she giggles. "i wanna talk to you."

you burst into laughter. "sev, i'm almost back at the office!" you giggle. "give raph their phone back baby, and then i'll call you on yours 'til i'm there."

sevika huffs, but then there's some shuffling, and raphael's voice comes back on.

"hey."

"did she go out for lunch?" you ask.

"no, she was here the whole day." they say.

"alright, just give her some water. i'll be back in five minutes."

you have a sneaking suspicion you know what's happening, but you can't be sure until you get there.

ten minutes later, you wheel jimena her fixed chair, then run toward sevika's office.

you slip in, and she snaps awake from where she's sprawled across the couch.

her eyes are pink and barely open, her smile is unfaltering, and she jumps out of the couch to scoop you up into a big hug, burying her face in your throat and inhaling deeply. you burst into laughter.

"hi, sev." you greet.

she hums. "babyyy."

"how're you feelin' love?" you ask. sevika bursts into another round of giggles.

"so fuckin' good. i dunno wha's happenin' to me, but i love it." she laughs.

you giggle, still a little concerned for your clearly out of it girlfriend, but your suspicion grows stronger by the second.

"what did you have to eat today?" you ask.

sevika's tries her very best to not look guilty, but in her current state you can read her like a book. "y'know. some chips. handful of trail mix. shared a burrito with seamus for lunch." she shrugs.

"and?" you ask.

sevika's eyes dart away from yours and she ducks her head. "one of those brownies you made last night."

"those were off limits, sev!" you cackle, all your suspicions confirmed. "how many did you have?"

"i dunno! just one!" she lies. you glare at her and she groans. "okay, like three." she mumbles.

you burst into laughter and pull your wife in for a hug. she hums happily, easily forgetting the trouble she's in now that she's wrapped in your warm arms.

"sev, baby, those were pot brownies silco's birthday party this weekend!" you inform her.

sevika bursts into laughter. "oh, shit!" she exclaims.

you laugh along with her. "they didn't taste off to you?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"i was focused on the all chocolate, babe, i wasn't really worried about much else."

well, you did doubled the chocolate chips in the brownies to cover the funky taste, you suppose this is what you get.

sevika starts pressing kisses up your neck, and you giggle, pulling her back by her half pony. "let's get you home before brownie number three kicks in, huh?" you ask.

she giggles. "will you eat a brownie and get high with me?" she asks.

you shrug, knowing that sevika will likely fall asleep in the car ride home. "sure babe." you say, dragging her out of the office.

she falls asleep the second you guys get home. you fill up a big water bottle for her, leaving it and a big bag of chips on her bedside table if she wakes up with cottonmouth and munchies.

you kiss her forehead then sneak out of the bedroom to call raphael.

"is she okay?" they ask as a greeting.

you burst into laughter. "she accidentally ate some pot brownies for breakfast." you explain.

raphael bursts into laughter. "that explains so much." they giggle. "she basically stole half of seamus' burrito at lunch today, staring at it with these big eyes, drooling and licking her lips while he ate. when he offered half to her-- she didn't even let him finish he sentence before snatching half out of his hand and running back to her office! i've never seen her so giggly before!" raph continues to cackle.

you shake your head fondly, and make a mental note to buy seamus lunch on monday.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh

[endlessthxxghts]

Routine

Frankie Morales x coffee shop worker!afab!reader || W/C: ≈7.9k

Summary: Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

Content/Warnings: POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie's Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie's mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like "your thigh" etc.). No use of "y/n". SMUT 18+ MDNI (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking). If there's anything that should be up here, please do not hesitate to let me know!

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and happy days, everyone! This Christmas season, I was apart of @pedrostories' 2023 Secret Santa event where we gift some type of creation to another fellow Pedro-related blog on here. I'm honored to have created this story for the lovely @alwaysbethewest ! I'm a huge sucker for a soft man, so in reading the prompt you gave, I just had to write for good ol' Francisco Morales—the sweetest of the bunch. This story was so cute and sexy to write, I'm so excited to see what you think. I truly hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

Frankie

You need to create a routine.

One that takes you out of your house.

Out of your comfort zone.

These words rang in Frankie’s ear as he allowed his feet to make decisions for him today. Ever since South America, Frankie has been struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy again. He rarely leaves his house unless it’s for groceries or work — or as of the last few months, unless it’s for therapy.

Frankie’s therapist noticed he was falling back into his old habits, his old mannerisms; and in being prompted about what his day-to-day looked like outside of therapy, Frankie was met with those three phrases. 

“You need to create a routine.”

“I have one,” Frankie says defensively. 

“One that takes you out of your house.”

“I do,” he says. “Work. The store.” 

“And out of your comfort zone.”

Frankie scoffs. As soon as he thinks of a quip, his therapist’s watch beeps. Saved by the bell. 

Frankie rises, getting ready to leave the room. His therapist leaves him with a new assignment. “Clear your schedule. You’re doing nothing but spontaneous decisions tomorrow.”

He takes a breath to calm his frustration. “How will you even know if I’ve done it?” Frankie asks. 

“I’ll know.”

“And if I lie?”

“I’ll know,” his therapist reassures. 

Which is why he finds himself in the early afternoon at a coffee shop, during what looks like to be its busiest hours of the day. Shit. 

He enters the line as he scans the menu on the wall, the line being long enough he’s sure he’ll make a decision by the time he gets to the register. He usually gets straight black coffee, but taking his therapist’s word a little too seriously, he opts for something else. 

Hazelnut? No. Mocha? No. Vanilla? No. Fuck, okay, this is harder than it looks.

He scans the tinier board off to the side for today’s special: an horchata latte, either iced or hot. Horchata? He can absolutely get by that. The guy at the register takes the order of the customer in front of him, and the same guy switches off and begins to make the customer’s drink. Waiting to be helped, Frankie reaches into his pocket to get his wallet ready, but still angsty from the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, his grip fumbles and he drops it. 

He bends down to go pick it up, and as he stands back up, he’s immediately met by the most heartstopping view. You, with a brown apron, a hand-drawn name tag, and powdered sugar adorning your cheek. The smile on your face as you greet him causes his brain to short circuit. 

“Hi! How can I help you today?” you beam at him, completely unaware of the cuteness radiating off of you, melting his anxieties made of wasps and transforming them into the shape of flapping butterflies all throughout his tummy. 

“I- um, hi- yeah, I’d, um-” he stumbles on his words. You smile at him, nodding your head patiently and understanding. “Shit, sorry-” he laughs nervously. 

“You’re okay,” you giggle, slightly intrigued at the flushed state of the man before you. “This your first time here? We’ve got a lot of options, it can be very nerve wracking picking from our menu,” you comfort, probably assuming it’s the first-time jitters taking away his ability to speak. 

“Oh, uh- yeah, it’s my first time here,” Frankie confirms. “But actually, I had my mind set on today’s special? The horchata latte?” 

Your face lights up like a million suns, and his heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. “Oh my gosh, really?!” you squeal. “That’s my creation we’ve highlighted today,” you say excitedly, “and you’re actually the first to order it!” You ring up his total, Frankie handing you his card to swipe in the machine. “Hot or iced?” 

“What do you think?”

You study him for a moment. “Personally, I like iced because horchata in itself is already so refreshing, so it adds to that. But you seem like you’d prefer it hot, which is also objectively just as good.”

“Wow,” Frankie says with a smile.

“Was I accurate?” 

“Right on the nail,” he confirms. 

“Your name?” you ask, reaching for a cup.

“My name?” He asks, confused.

You gesture to the cup with a smirk. “For your order?”

“Oh,” he says. You catch the blush that falls on his cheeks. “Frankie,” he tells you, his hand shooting to the back of his neck to soothe his awkwardness.

“Well, Frankie,” you say after writing his name. “I’ll need an honest review after,” you smile at him as you turn away, signaling for someone else to take register so you can be the one to make his drink. 

He can’t help the cheesy smile that forms across his face at the prospect of getting to speak with you again. He turns around and searches for an open table. 

He sat on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for his name to be called when someone clears their throat in front of him. He looks up to see you, powdered sugar still kissing your cheek and two drinks — one iced and one hot — in your hands with that smile he’s slowly becoming addicted to. 

“Didn’t know you guys do table service?” Frankie asks, in a joking manner but truly he’s curious.

“We don’t,” you smile smugly as you place his cup in front of him. “Told you I needed my review.”

He smiles at you, then reaches for a napkin and lifts his hand towards you as you sit in the seat across from him. He gestures to your cheek. “May I?”

You go pale. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I’ve had shit on my face this entire time?” 

“Okay, then I won’t,” he offers gently. You lean closer into his hand, giving him the green light. He wipes the powdered sugar from your cheek, his face in concentration mode as he makes sure to wipe it all off. He feels you staring, his face heating up the longer your eyes are on him, but he doesn’t break. 

“There,” he whispers, “the shit is gone.” Your faces are still inches from each other. 

“Thought you weren’t gonna say anything?” you whisper back. 

He breaks the proximity first, clearing his throat to steady himself. He doesn’t reply to your remark. Instead, he grabs the coffee and brings it up to his lips. “Let’s see what this is all about, yeah?” The second the hot liquid touches his tongue, he knows his days of black coffee are over. It’s creamy, the perfect amount of cinnamon, a perfectly pulled espresso shot that highlights the natural nutty undertones — it’s fucking perfect, and he tells you exactly that. 

“Guess now you’ve got an excuse to come back,” you tell him. 

“I think I had an excuse before that,” Frankie quickly lets out before taking another heady sip, referring to the beautiful human sitting past him. 

You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, something akin to trouble written across your face. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I guess you did.” 

He’s experienced enough to know when someone is flirting with him. He’s experienced enough to notice a mutual attraction. Yet, there’s something so bold, so intoxicating about you that you’ve thrown him off balance. Whether you’re just a naturally friendly, bold person, or you’ve actually taken an interest in him, there’s no way he’s going away now. You’ve got him hooked. 

You need to create a routine, he was told, and creating a routine is exactly what he’s going to do. 

It’s been six months since his first visit, and in those six months, he’s had the opportunity to really get to know you. 

In the first month, he visited twice a week, once during the weekdays and once on the weekends. He made sure to time it on what he noticed to be your shift, and he also timed it for right when you were about to take your break. Catching on pretty quickly, you offer him a bit of reassurance. 

“My schedule is the most consistent out of all of my coworkers, by the way,” you say, sipping on your iced mocha. 

His ears perk up. “Yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Been here the longest, so the owners let me play around with my schedule and pick up shifts that I want to,” you tell him. “But my therapist a few years ago told me to set a routine for myself, so-”

Frankie chokes on his coffee with a laugh. 

“Oh my god,” you giggle, “you okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to pat on his back. 

Frankie’s breath falters at the contact. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pulls away from your embrace out of nervousness. If you notice, you don’t mention it. “Just threw me off a little.”

“Why? What’d I say?” you reply. 

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he sets his coffee down. “A month ago, I had a therapy session, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. They literally told me I needed to create a routine for myself,” he says. 

“Oh,” you say with a straight face. Your face goes unreadable for a second, and he feels like he fucked something up. “So is that why you’ve been harassing me for weeks on end?”

Frankie looks like he’s just seen a ghost, pale and flushed at the same time, his ability to form any kind of words rendered impossible. “I- no, I-”

In his state of panic, he’s looking everywhere except you. He feels your hands wrap around his, and you’re leaning closer to him, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Frankie, I’m joking,” you coo. You can see his jaw unclench as he searches your eyes for any signs of discomfort from him. Nothing. There’s something there as he holds your stare, but nothing tells him you don’t want him here. A shy smile forms on his face, and the bashful blush on his cheeks return. He knows you notice it, but still, you don’t mention it. 

“For what it’s worth,” you speak again. “I enjoy having you in my routine, too,” his own giddy demeanor reflecting back at him through you. There goes the butterflies again. 

Five months in, and he’s coming into the shop everyday. He doesn’t always get coffee, but mostly, he’s there to see you. Sometimes you’re way too busy to take a break any time soon, so he’ll slip in, give you a little wave hello, accept your sweet smile in return, and he’ll slip out. 

“Gonna actually get something today, Morales?” 

A few visits ago on your break, you ask him if his name is short for anything, and quickly add in that if Frankie is what he prefers, you don’t care to know anything else. His heart melts at the sentiment, at how understanding and gentle of a human you are. Not only to him, but to everyone who has the privilege to interact with you. 

Francisco Morales, he tells you. Francisco, Frankie, Frank, you can call me whatever you want. This time, he thinks he catches the heat creeping on your face, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Morales, huh? And what do you mean actually?”

“I’m not dumb, Frankie,” you smirk. “I know you don’t get anything a few of the times you stop by.” 

He swears his heart falls out of his ass. He thought you’d be too busy to even notice. As a former special op, he thought he would have been more slick about it. 

He scans the menu above you, as if he hasn’t studied it a thousand times over, just to get out of your piercing gaze. “Just tryna keep the routine, is all,” he retorts. 

“The routine, huh?” you smile at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, along with that same something he can’t quite identify — it makes his chest swell. “Your favorite is back on the menu, by the way.” 

Frankie turns to the special board: horchata latte. Smiling to himself before he responds, “I’ll have that, then,” he says, reaching for his card. “You going on your break now?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you reply, “and coffee is on me today.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Please?” you tell him with the world’s worst (more like cutest) puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. How the hell can he say no to you now?

“Fine,” he deadpans. 

You squeal in excitement. You shoo him away to go find a seat, and you’re at his side within moments, two hot cups in your hands. 

He looks quizzically at the other cup. ��I don’t know, I’m just feeling like a hot cup today,” you shrug. “What can I say, you’ve influenced me,” you giggle, not realizing just how much that statement affects Frankie’s crushing little heart. God, you’re beautiful, he can’t help but think as you curl up as best you can in your chair while you sip on your coffee. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way about you. One, you’re practically his best friend at this point, and two, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him. 

“So,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“So,” he repeats. 

“I was actually thinking of taking this weekend off,” you tell him. 

His face falls a little, but he’s quick to fix it before you notice — hopefully. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Nothing bad,” you reassure him. “I just think I need a little weekend to myself before the busy holiday season really starts.” 

“That’s understandable,” Frankie replies. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. “But…” you trail off. 

“Buuuut?” He drags the word out for dramatic effect, sensing your nervousness and wanting to help calm you. 

You giggle at his antics. “But I don’t wanna break our routine,” you say quietly. A little oh escapes his mouth. “I was wondering if you- if you wanted to hang out, maybe? On Saturday? Or even Sunday? Whatever works for you… and you can obviously say no, don’t feel obligated-” 

It’s always been you cutting him off from his overthinking and comforting him, and now it’s his turn. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours as they hug your coffee cup. He gives you a little squeeze and calls your name gently. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “Wanna do a movie night?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you.

It’s surprising he didn’t have your phone number until five months in. Though, come to think of it, he’s seen you practically everyday since he met you. And there was no need to communicate beyond that. Right? 

Shaking his head to clear him from his thoughts, he copies your address from your guys’ text thread and pastes it into his maps. It takes him five minutes to get to your place, and as soon as he gets to your front door, you’re already opening before he has a chance to knock. 

“Oh! Frankie, hi,” you gasp delightedly. “Perfect timing,” you laugh. “I was just gonna grab the groceries out of my car. Go inside, make yourself at home.”

“Hi,” he smiles, “I can help with the groceries?”

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just one bag. Give me one second,” you say walking to your car. 

He waits for you as you grab the bag, both of you walking back inside together. “So I’m terrible at picking a movie, and if I didn’t narrow down our options, I feel like we’d be here all night deciding.”

“What do ya got for me?” he smiles as he makes his way to your couch, purely just enjoying being in your presence regardless of the movie you both decide to put on. 

“Alright, since we’re nearing Christmas, I have a few holiday options, and then a few general of my favorites — Elf, The Grinch, or Home Alone; or we can do my personal favorite, but I promise I’m good with whatever you choose, Labyrinth, Paddington 1 or 2-”

Frankie’s eyes light up at the latter option, and you immediately catch on. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of the Paddington’s?” you say with a snort. 

He grimaces. “Was it that obvious?” 

“Frankie, you literally looked at me like I am your entire world,” you laugh. “Yes, it was that obvious.”

“I mean, it’s not any different than how I usually look at you,” Frankie says without thinking. Immediately his hand is on his mouth. 

He sees the shock on your face for a millisecond before you’re back to your usual cool and collected self. How the fuck do you do that? “Okay but which Paddington? There’s only one right answer, here.” 

Although his heart is still beating through his damn chest, the question puts him back on track. “Paddington 2, duh,” he says without missing a beat, he rolls his eyes as he playfully scoffs at you. 

“Good answer,” you say sternly but with a smile. You set up your TV onto Paddington 2 and then quickly run to the kitchen to grab the popcorn you made. You set the bowl on your coffee table, turning back to grab something to drink. “What’s your drink of choice? I’ve got water, tea, soda — I can whip up a coffee for you, too, if you’d like,” you yell to him. 

“Hmm, enticing, but I’m okay with water for now, though, thank you.”

You return back to your living room, scanning the table making sure you don’t need anything else. You ask Frankie if he does. 

“Just you,” Frankie says, again, not thinking before he speaks. God damn it, Francisco, get it together. 

You smirk at him, he sees your eyes tracing the red across his cheeks. Christ. “You’ve had me for a while, Morales,” you say under your breath, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. Your words genuinely cause his heart to skip a beat. You settle onto the couch beside him, ignoring his shocked face. “Ready to watch?” hints of your smugness still there. 

“Y-yeah, ready,” he stutters.

Six months. It’s been six months since he met you and his old self would never have expected his day to day to look like this. He’s got a usual stop at your work—always on his lunch since you start later—sometimes getting coffee and other times your smile is all that he needs to feel energized for the day. 

You

And on the weekends, you two share a movie night—your version of recharging for your next work week. 

Ever since the first weekend you took off, you loved the mental break it gave you, so Frankie encouraged you to take the leap and start taking off every weekend. The owners agreed, of course. He assured you it wouldn’t break into your routine together. If anything, your time together has increased significantly. You genuinely have no idea what you’d do without Frankie at your side nearly every single day, but there’s something in your heart telling you he’s feeling the same way. 

For six months, since the very first moment he fell bashful in his presence, you’ve been completely and utterly captivated by him. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him—especially not so early and not for this long—but there’s always been a magnetic pull between you. Both of you know it and neither of you can deny it, especially in the occasional flirty comment made by either of you, but there’s something holding you back from pushing for something more. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing him practically every single day, and one wrong move or one wrong boundary crossed, and suddenly everything is gone. You can’t risk it. You’d rather keep him at arm's length at all times rather than not have him at all. He’s your best friend for crying out loud. You cannot lose him to something so juvenile. 

However, with tonight being your weekend ritual paired with a particularly draining week of work, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep your entire weekend away. Though, what you wanted more was to see Frankie. He told you it was truly okay if he didn’t come tonight, knowing about how hectic your week was, but you weren’t having any of that. 

“I swear to God, Frankie, I will fight you,” you told him on the phone earlier. 

“Oh, really?” You could hear his smug face in his reply. “I’d like to see you try.”

The butterflies erupt in your belly and begin to fly lower towards your core, igniting a spark in the lower part of you that you’ve been trying to keep at bay for months. You take a deep breath before steering the conversation elsewhere. You know he both hates and loves when you do that—smoothly pulling away from the bait he gives you while saving his ego in the process. You’ve gotten so good at this after years of unwanted flirting from customers. You didn’t realize how perfect this skill would be in keeping your distance from the man you want most.

“Shut up and get your ass over here, Morales,” you tell him. “I know where you live, you should be here by the time I change into my damn pajamas.”

“Should I change into mine, too?” He teases.

You both know Frankie loses every flirty little challenge that occurs between you. Which is why he isn’t surprised at your response, but it still stirs him up nonetheless. “That depends,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “Are you a gray sweatpants or plaid pajama pants kind of guy?”

“Both,” he says. To the average ear, it’d sound like the most casual response. To your ear, though, you can hear the pain laced in his voice. 

You stifle a giggle. “In that case, yes, please, by all means. Change into your pajamas, baby.”

You don’t leave room for him to reply, ending the call before you can overthink how that was the most suggestive flirty comment you’ve made yet. 

Pulling your head back into focus mode, you go to your kitchen to start preparing the usual snacks you two indulge in during these nights. You also got a new ice cream flavor on your last grocery run that you thought was interesting and wanted to try, but you’ll pull that out when he gets here. Or maybe not. You don’t need to watch him clean off his spoon like the attentive man you’ve come to learn that he is. Your body shudders at the image. 

Goodness, what is up with you today? You are always so good at keeping your feelings down, especially the physical ones. There must be something in the air today, because all you can think about are things you shouldn’t be doing with or to your best friend. 

Before you know it, a knock is at your door, and you cannot help the way your eyes immediately sweep his body from top to bottom with a lingering stare at his center. You’re absolutely shameless with it, too, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you drink in the sight of him. Gray sweatpants. A dark green, fitted tee. You are drooling. 

Your eyes finally meet his own, and you’re met with a smug Frankie, knowing that this time, he won this round. “You alright there?” He asks you. 

Confusion takes over your face. “Huh?”

He brings his fingers up to swipe across his lip. Oh, dear God. “Got a little bit of...” he trails off with a smile. 

Your ears finally register his remark, and your hand is immediately swatting at his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get inside.”

He follows you into the kitchen, a new thing he started doing a few weekends ago to help bring all the snacks to your living room in one go rather than multiple trips. It also takes away from the amount of time he’s not with you, so you never questioned it. Walking back to the living room, you speak once more. “I cannot guarantee staying up the entire time, and I apologize now if I fall asleep on you.”

He says your name in an I told you so manner, “I already told you I didn’t have to come.” 

You’re sitting side by side on the couch now. “And I already told you I don’t care,” you respond back. He shakes his head disapprovingly at your persistence. You know he’s biting back a smile. A goofy smile you’ve caught a handful of times, and you eat up every single one. “You can choose the movie, though, seriously.” Adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the couch, a position where the sides of your bodies are closer together, your head finding solace on his shoulder, you add, “I swear, I think I wanted you here to be my pillow.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he whispers, taking control of the remote to throw on Elf. Your eyes are already beginning to close, and you mutter a small yeah at Frankie’s statement, then you are out like a light.

Frankie

Frankie spends most of the night watching and listening to you rather than the movie. Watching how your nose twitches ever so often or listening to the occasional snore that escapes you. He doesn’t even realize the movie is over until a trailer for another movie is halfway through. His wingspan allows him to reach the remote nearby, and he quickly shuts the television off. 

He debates if he should wake you and make sure you get to your bed safely, or if he should just slip out from underneath you and continue letting you sleep. You look so peaceful, he thinks. Yet exhausted. He decides on letting you sleep. Or at least, he tries to. 

He gently attempts separating himself from you, his hand cradling your head to rest it on the couch cushion rather than his shoulder. Even in your sleepy state, you’re just as stubborn. You smack his hand away and wrap your arms tighter around his arm, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder to gain your comfort back again. You let out a final huff before settling on your position. 

“Sweet girl,” he whispers. He can’t stop the endearment leaving his lips. His heart is too full at the way you’re physically attaching yourself to him. “I need to go,” he says softly. “Gotta let you sleep.” 

Your grip tightens more so, a little whimper leaving your lips as your eyebrows furrow. “Stay,” you mumble. 

And although you’re fully overtaken by sleep, he’ll be damned if he ever argues with you, no matter the state you’re in. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Only for a little while longer,” he mumbles unconvincingly as he minutely adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, his head leaning partly atop yours. 

You

It’s not lost on you—the two words that fell from Frankie’s lips when he thought you were deep in your slumber. It took every ounce of your willpower not to shudder at the way it echoed throughout your fatigue-hollowed brain. 

You thought that maybe, with Frankie’s perception of your sleepy state, you could let part of your inhibitions go with him—reveal to him how you really feel, and pretend the next morning that you don’t remember what you said if something you don’t want to hear is revealed. Though, that’s easier said than done, only able to build the courage to mutter one little word to him as you continue laying in his warm embrace, the soothing sounds of his steady breathing blessing your ears. 

The longer you lay here, the more antsy you become. What could possibly go wrong if you two revealed how you feel to each other? You know one hundred percent that the feelings are mutual; it’s a matter of who breaks first, and quite honestly? You’re fed up. 

You lift your head up, turning to look at him. He’s out.  “Frankie,” you whisper-yell. Nothing. 

“Frankie,” you say a little louder. Still nothing.  How the hell did he doze so fast?

Finally, with a small slap to his cheek and one final call of his name, he’s up—and confused as fuck. 

“Huh-” he blinks heavily. His groggy eyes are searching for you. “Cariño, are you okay? What’s going on?” he rushes out, the sleep disorienting his ability to respond appropriately, forcing worry to the forefront of his mind. 

Too worked up to let his brain chemistry regulate, you rip the bandaid right off. “Francisco, do you have feelings for me?”

Well, fuck. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure as hell is now. 

“I-” he takes a deep breath, still trying to get his brain to catch up with the whiplash of events. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, slightly defensive from the natural accusatory inflection with a question like this. 

Your face falls. So does his heart. “Frankie, don’t be coy,” you say—you beg. “Please, just answer the question.” 

He breaks your closeness, turning his body on the couch to completely face you. You mirror his movement. His eyes are searching yours. That something he couldn’t quite identify; that something that swims your gaze every time his eyes meet yours? It’s there, and he knows damn well what it is. He was just too afraid to admit it, to mortalize it into something real, something tangible. Because deep down? He knows he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve the love you give. The loyalty. The care. He’s done too much bad in this world to even fathom a mere chance at a life with you. 

But the way you sit there, staring back at him like he’s your entire world, he can’t stop the selfish desire to spill his truth to you. 

“Yes,” he lets out. The pure admittance is like a ton of weights have been completely lifted off of his chest after carrying it for so long. He can see the relief on your face, too, all your anxieties washing away with a single-syllable, three letter word. 

“Oh, thank God,” you softly giggle as you choke back a sob. Frankie can feel his eyes tear up. 

“Frankie?” you call. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“Please kiss me.”

His hands are on your cheeks in seconds, pulling you in to slot his lips with yours, a sweetness laced with a fire that’s been begging to be ignited since he met you—powdered sugared cheeks and a smile that could take a person out faster than any punch in the gut could. 

It’s quick to grow more passionate, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, of course—your tongue falls into a perfect tango, as if it were meant to be doing this dance with him all along. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, and you eventually build enough strength to pull away. 

Frankie’s quick to apologize, his overthinking getting the best of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away-”

You pull him in for a quick kiss to shut him up, a little laugh swirling in the air. “At what point did I make it feel or sound like I wasn’t enjoying that?”

In the dim light of your living room, you see a familiar tint glow across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t—and can’t—respond to your very sound logic. “No, I-” you start, suddenly feeling yourself get all shy. “I pulled away because I- um…I was wondering if y-you-” you cut yourself off in frustration, grumbling out at the way you suddenly can’t face the man whose tongue was in your throat moments ago. 

You pick yourself up off the couch, grab his wrist, and swiftly lead you two to your bedroom. Crossing the threshold of your room, you stop at the edge of your bed. “I-is this okay?” 

Frankie stares at you in a trance, a lust-filled yet pure adoring trance. Before your eyesight can register, Frankie’s dropping to his knees, hands on your hips to urge you to settle on your bed. “This is okay,” he promises. 

He kisses your belly through your pajamas. “More than okay,” he mumbles to no one in particular. 

“Frankie,” you whimper.

“Can I taste you, baby?” He asks, his gaze finally breaking from your eyes to glance down to your core. 

“Y-you don’t have to,” your voice quivers. 

His fingers find the hem of your pants, waiting for your signal. “Oh, I don’t have to,” he tells you. “But I want to,” he inhales. “To be honest, I need to, so fucking bad, baby.”

“Fuck,” you say as you rapidly nod your head for him, his hands wasting no time in pulling your bottoms of you. The desperation laced in his voice alone has your eyes wanting to roll back. You’re settling yourself to the edge of your bed, leaning back as you spread your legs for him. “Take what you want, Morales,” you declare.

He smirks before he dives in. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” you gasp out at the sensation, pure warmth and passion behind his movements, your head struggles to maintain upright at the sight. Your bottom lip instinctively hides between your teeth in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you, your tiny little whimpers the only sounds escaping you. 

He starts with a flat stripe up your cunt, his tongue gliding through your folds and lapping up your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit a few times before dragging back down to your entrance. His fingers are curling into your bed sheet tightly, scared to cross any boundaries by moving too fast to your liking. His cock instantly jumps at his senses being consumed; your sweet, tangy taste mixed with the distinct, saccharine scent that’s uniquely you—he can’t control the groan that escapes his throat and floods through you. God, he could spend forever worshiping at your altar, completely and utterly content. 

He pulls away momentarily, the slick bottom half of his face shining back at you. “I just know you can make a lot more of those sweet sounds for me, cariño,” he says as his tongue licks his bottom lip. “It’s just you and me, baby, let me hear you,” he says with a sharp flick of his tongue to your clit. “F-fuck,” you yelp out, your body jolting at the sudden piercing pleasure of his tongue’s movement, your fingers scrambling to the curls on his head. He looks up to you with a smirk, reveling in your reaction.

And with that, his hands are gripping your thighs, his face jumping right back in, completely flush against your center, his nose squished against your mound. His eyes are rolling back at the feel of you, the way your slick just pours for him as he continues licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. “F-feel so good,” you moan, your strength finally breaking as your upper body crashes down onto the bed, your back arching in pleasure. 

His dominant hand releases your thigh, and you can feel his finger teasing your entrance as his mouth treks back up to your needy bundle of nerves. “Frankie,” you gasp, “please.” 

He moans a raspy mhm into you, his finger not wasting another second before he dips inside, utterly turned on at the warmth wrapped around his finger. He can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his aching length. 

Frankie lifts off your clit with a pop, his finger still pumping in and out, in and out. Your hips are meeting each movement, desperate moans and incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he watches your pleasure in a pure bliss.

His eyes fall back down to your cunt and the way it’s greedily swallowing his middle finger. “God damn, baby,” he mutters. “I think you can take another, sweet girl,” he breathes, leaning down again to place an open-mouthed kiss on your sensitive center. “What do ya think?” he asks breathily. 

He’s watching every inch of you—the way your thighs are twitching, the way your fingers are straining in its grip, the way your mouth is falling open into a weak o-shape as you try and force words to leave your mouth. “P-please,” you attempt, “a-another-”

Immediately, he’s straightening out his ring finger to join his middle, his smug smirk falling into a desperate one, needing to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you really his only goal for tonight. “I’ve got you, cariño,” he tells you, his mouth returning back to lavish you as his fingers curl and hit the spongy trigger button from deep inside. 

You practically yell out for him—neighbors be damned—as your orgasm overtakes every inch of your being, catapulting you into another pleasure-filled dimension. “I’ve got you,” he comforts with his lips still attached to your skin, “let go for me, mi amor.”

His fingers are still pumping inside of you, fucking you through the intense wave of your orgasm. His head rests on your thigh, pressing soft kisses  and sweet praises as you slowly gain consciousness.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Too good to me.”

“Estoy tan enamorado de ti.” 

Frankie takes your hazy disposition for granted, using this small window to whisper everything he’s been wanting to say to you forever. 

You begin to whimper at his movements, and he takes that as his queue to relieve you. His fingers finally leave, his mouth taking the responsibility of lapping up your slick—thoroughly, you note, as you watch him rise to his full height.

“You okay, cariño?” He asks as he swiftly takes his shirt off. Your eyes grow impossibly darker at his bare torso, your spit falling thicker, and you’re quick to scramble yourself up higher onto your bed. 

“More than okay,” you mirror his words from earlier. He lets out a little laugh, the butterflies in his tummy ever-present as his eyes scan you up and down. He pulls down his sweats, too, before he’s kneeling on the bed, crawling up towards where you’re situated. You can’t help the way your smirk falls when your eyes do—pure hunger consumes your features, and Frankie’s cock jumps at the sight. 

He gulps at the way you’re eating him alive, too eager to be inside you yet too nervous in the case of accidentally messing anything up. The last thing he wants to do is cross the line with you. 

As if reading his mind, you take the initiative to pull your top off, your boobs an immediate distraction from his anxieties. “Don’t get shy on me now, Morales,” you say as you let your hands caress your body and make its way down to your still-soaked pussy. “She’s feeling so empty,” you pout, your hips bucking up as your fingers rub your clit. 

You swear Frankie’s eyes flash red, and he’s caging you against your bed within seconds. One arm hooked around your waist, the other holding himself up near your head. You bracket his hips with your own as his lips hungrily crash into yours. 

You can feel the way his cock rubs against your center, his hips grinding into yours, letting his tip catch onto your clit as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hand snakes down without him realizing, a hearty gasp leaving his throat as your fingers pump him a few times before you guide him towards your entrance, easily pulling him in with your post-orgasm slick. 

He’s slow with the way he’s thrusting into you; pulling out until only the tip is inside only to push all the way in at an agonizing pace as he lets you get used to his size.“S-shit,” he whimpers, followed by your name. “So d-damn g-good,” he takes a shaky breath. “‘S like you were m-made f’me,” he forces out, pained. 

Even though it was an easy glide in, Frankie is fucking huge, his girth still providing a slight sting of a stretch, but you love it. You’re gonna feel him inside you for days at a time, and the thought makes your pussy flutter around him. His hold on your waist tightens in an attempt to steady any squirming that might come from you. “Gonna fucking cum already if you keep on like that, honey,” he groans. His eyes are shut in pained pleasure. 

Fighting against his hold, you start meeting his thrusts, the angle of your hips providing the perfect friction against your clit, you just might cum again in seconds if you both keep this up. 

“I don’t care,” you tell him, your ankles locking around his waist. “Fuck me, Frankie,” you say, grabbing onto his face to making him look at you. “Make up for loss time, and fuck me,” you snarl. 

His lips are sloppily on you, hips speeding up, pounding into you deliciously hard. Both of you are too lost in the pleasure to even properly kiss right now—a mess of spit, tongue, and teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s moans. 

Frankie breaks his lips from yours and he trails his touch lower, biting onto your chin and nipping lower and lower all over your neck. The sensation causes a fresh wave of flutters at your core, evident in the even louder wet squelch each thrust produces from between you. 

You’re feeling so good, too good, that your chest arches into him, and Frankie takes the opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipples. Licking and sucking on each, slathering them in his spit before ultimately latching onto your left breast and practically making out with it as he continues fucking you into your matress. 

“Oh my God, Frankie,” you whine, eyes clamping shut at just how good he’s making you feel. “Just like that, baby, please don’t stop,” you say, your fingers finding purchase in his curls for a second time tonight, keeping him on your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”

He lifts off your left breast, and moves on to the right, trailing wet kisses on his path over. “Let me feel you, princesa,” he mutters as he gives your other breast the same treatment. His hand leaves your waist to make its way to your clit, giving you the extra push you needed to fall off the edge once more. Your pussy clenches at the feeling—a stream of yes and please and fuck leaves your mouth—causing his stomach to tighten, dragging him to the edge along with you. “Cum with me,” you say. “Cum in me,” you quickly revise, “need to feel you,” you whimper. 

His fingers speed up on you as his hips falter in its rhythm, and then it’s pure white, hot bliss consuming both of you in a way neither of you have ever felt. “Oh, fuck,” he lets out as he lifts off of your breast, pretty red flowers blooming under his mouth’s touch. Fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, vibrating you from the inside out, as a fire roars through every nerve of his body, leaving him a heaving, trembling, jello piece of mass above you as he struggles not to crush you. 

You can feel the way his muscles are shaking, the bed vibrating with him. A giggle filled with ecstasy escapes you, relishing in the contrast of the airiness of your body compared to the solid mass he turns into post-orgasm. 

You grab onto his shoulders, and softly nudge him to slide to lay beside you before you slip off on jello legs to the bathroom and kitchen. With as much strength he can muster, he turns to you with a frown. “Where you going?” 

“Just gonna get a cloth and water for us both, baby,” you chuckle. You head to the kitchen first and bring the waters to your night stand, taking a large gulp from your glass and forcing him to do the same. You bring yourself back to the bathroom and wipe yourself with a warm cloth, throw it in the hamper, and get a new one to clean Frankie. 

You make your way to his bedside, and you bring the cloth to his face first. He’s quick to stop you. “Frank,” you scold. “What are you doing?”

“I…” his face goes red. “I can still smell you on me.”

You swear your knees buckle, heat overtaking your entire body. “Let me clean it,” you whisper, not really knowing how to reply to that. He just gives you puppy dog eyes. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You can taste me again later,” you offer with a smirk. 

He thinks it over for a second, a sigh escaping his lips like he just made the hardest decision ever. “Fiiiine,” he drags out, exaggerated. 

After you wipe the rest of him down and bring his cloth to your hamper, he’s quick to reach for you with grabby hands, always needing to be in your embrace—especially more so now.

You cuddle facing each other, your head tucked into his neck as your legs tangle with one another. He’s drawing shapes and lines all around your back. 

“Hey, Frankie?” you call out. 

“Yeah, cariño?” 

“You said something earlier,” you say. “Estoy enamorado something. What does that mean?”

Frankie’s ears go hot. Surely after everything you two just did together, that’s a declaration of love in itself. What more if it’s actually verbalized? “Oh. Um- yeah,” he replies a little rigidly. “Estoy tan enamorado de ti,” he repeats the phrase. 

You’re looking up at him now, eyes bright and curious. “Yeah, that!”

“It- um- it means…” he trails off. He meets your gaze, and his heart stops. He’s so in love with you. 

“Well,” he clears his throat. “It means I’m so in love with you.”

Your gaze shifts from one of curiosity to one of pure, unfiltered love. Your eyes are tearing up at his admission. He brings his finger up to catch a tear escaping your eye. 

You sniffle and take a shaky breath in. “Well, in that case. I’m so in love with you,” you state matter-of-factly, pushing your body up to catch his lips in a soft but lengthy kiss, one that hopefully translates to him just how much you love him, need him, and want him—ever since you took his order. 

He releases your lips to place a soft kiss to your nose then to your forehead before pulling you in closer to relax in each other’s hold. A few more moments pass before he calls your name. 

“Hm?” 

“Can you remind me tomorrow to reach out to my therapist?” 

“Of course, baby,” you say with a kiss to his chest. “Everything okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, baby, everything’s good,” he confirms. “Just need to send them a gift basket or something.”

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. “You and your therapist give each other gifts during Christmas?”

“No,” he tells you. “Well, I thought we didn’t. But in telling me to fix my routine, they led me to you, so.”

“Baby,” you frown, feeling yourself tear up again. 

“I know I pay ‘em to do this,” he says, “but a gift like this? A miracle like this? I feel like I’ve gotta give something a little more.”

Unable to hold in your emotions, you crash your lips against his for the millionth time tonight. Pulling away a little breathless, you say, “Sign my name on there, too.” 

End note: Again, I truly hope you, @alwaysbethewest (and everyone else) were able to enjoy the way this sweet sweet story unfolded. I didn't realize just how much their dynamic would mean to me, but here we are, an entire piece of my heart later💚. Thank you for prompting me exactly what you did. I'm endlessly grateful. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! Lastly, I just want to give a little special shoutout to my rock @javierpena-inatacvest for proofreading this story for me and making sure it did our Frankie boy justice. I love you.💚

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @yorksgirl

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether. Much love! Xx

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞, quinn hughes

♡ ─ word count | 3.2k

♡ ─ summary | you and quinn were destined to fail from the beginning.

♡ ─ warnings | unedited LOL, so much angst (are we surprised), drinking, mentions of a stupid bet (pls don't come for me ik it's a cliche but it works), asshole!quinn (so sorry for this), break-up's, lots of fighting and just overall asshole-ry, unloyalty (not exactly cheating but idk), lmk if i missed anything LMAOOO

♡ ─ taglist | tbd (check out link in navigation!)

♡ ─ ev's notes | whoo, finally i wrote something for my celly!!! i'm not very proud of it .... idk why i lowkey hate it but i hope i did this song justice, i love this song and evermore in general. this is also very out of character quinn, LOLOL because he would never (in my head, at least...). ANYWAY!!! please let me know your thoughts and i would love to hear some respectful critiques for my general writing/plotting, i would appreciate it! anyways, enjoy this angsty ass story lol

As you stared into Quinn's eyes, under the flurolenst lights of the parking lot, you knew that it was over. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights were the only sounds breaking the stillness of the night.

Quinn's expression mirrored your own; a mixture of sadness, resignation, and regret etched across his features. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but the words remained trapped, unspoken, as if even he couldn't find the right ones to mend what had been broken.

In the quiet of that desolate parking lot, you prayed, as you hadn't in a long time, for Quinn to say something, anything, that could mend the gaping rift between you. The silence between you two was deafening, heavy with the weight of unspoken words, unfulfilled promises, and a shared recognition of the inevitable.

As you stared into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, the eyes that still somehow showed admiration, you knew that this was the end. And in the depth of that painful realization, you also knew that, somehow, it was for the better. The love that had once bound you both was still there, but it had transformed into something unrecognizable, something that no longer served the happiness you both deserved.

──

ONE YEAR AGO

──

"You come here often?" were the first words that came from the unknown beautiful man's lips. The beautiful stranger's confidence and charming smile were hard to ignore, and his well-worn pick-up line had almost made you laugh.

You had experienced countless encounters with men using the same old pick-up line, wearing that familiar confident grin, and creating a typical atmosphere. Yet, there was something about this particular interaction that stood out.

You responded with a gentle smile, shaking your head in acknowledgement. "No, I just moved here." Well, that wasn't exactly true ─ you had lived here almost a year now but you were still new.

The corners of the beautiful stranger's lips curled up even further as he chuckled at your response. "Well, that explains why I haven't seen you around," he said, his voice carrying a playful undertone.

He kept turning around with a smirk and you noticed his group of friends and you suddenly understood what exactly what was happening ─ he was trying to prove something to his friends or win some kind of bet.

Sure, you first found his charming approach somewhat appealing, the growing suspicion that this might be part of a playful dare or a friendly challenge from his friends left you feeling intrigued and slightly amused. Nevertheless, you decided to go along with it, maintaining a friendly smile, eager to see where this interaction was headed.

He glanced over at his friends once more, who were now watching the two of you with amused expressions. It was becoming increasingly clear that this was more than just a chance encounter.

You decided to keep the conversation fun, playing along with his playful undertone. "I guess I've been flying under the radar," you replied with a grin. "But now that you've found me, what's your next move, mystery man?"

He laughed at the nickname before he leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, playfully. "Well, I could offer you a drink and continue this intriguing conversation, or I could simply disappear back into the crowd, leaving you with the mystery."

"I like mysteries," you replied with a flirty undertone. Now this was something new ─ he was actually engaging which made you even more interested. "I'm Y/N."

"Quinn," he responded and extended his hand with the same smirk he's had on the entire night. "Quinn Hughes," he repeated, emphasizing his name in a way that made it clear he wanted you to know it.

"Good to meet you, Quinn Hughes." You replied playfully. "Now, where's my drink?"

Quinn's grin widened as he held onto your hand for an extra second, making sure you knew he appreciated the introduction. "The pleasure's all mine, Y/N," he said with a wink before releasing your hand. "What are you like feeling tonight?"

"Bellini, please."

He looked at the bartender who was cleaning the glasses and nodded his head, "Two Bellini's, please."

The bartender soon returned with two frosty Bellinis, each garnished with a sweet slices of peach. You took a sip and savored the fruity and bubbly flavors.

"Cheers," you said, raising your glass to Quinn. "To unexpected encounters and intriguing mysteries."

Quinn clinked his glass against yours, his eyes locked onto yours. "To new beginnings and unforgettable nights," he added, his tone suggestive.

──

What started as a one-night stand quickly became something more. Nights spent together soon became a weekly thing that excited the both of you. Quinn found himself smiling at mere thought of your presence, and that was when he knew it was over for him.

Sweet words exchanged as you fell asleep together, talking about your dreams and hopes, your worst fears and nightmares, building something that could only be described as perfect. Everything that you had ever wanted was Quinn.

He was a gentlemen, he opened doors and made sure you got home safe. He gave you forehead kisses, treated you like a princess, paid for everything and respected your boundaries.

But nothing is meant to last forever.

"You told me you blocked her!" You yelled in frustration as you threw the phone on the bed.

Quinn's face flushed with anger, his eyes narrowing as he retorted, "Well, what about you, Y/N? You promised me you'd stop bringing up the past every time we argue!"

Your anger flared in response as you threw your head back in anger. "This isn't about the past, Quinn. This is about you lying to me!"

He clenched his fists, his voice rising with fury. "And what about your constant need to control everything, to question every little thing I do? It's suffocating!"

The room seemed to crackle with tension as the argument escalated. Voices raised, accusations flying, both of you venting the pent-up frustration that had been building over time. It was a clash of emotions, a heated exchange that left no room for compromise.

Quinn's face was red with anger as his usual calm demeanor broke, his voice laced with frustration. "You never trust me, Y/N! It's like you're always waiting for me to mess up, to prove that I'm not good enough for you."

Your own anger burned hotly, and you shot back, "Maybe if you didn't lie to me, I wouldn't have reason to doubt you!"

"Lie to you? Y/N, come on, I never said-"

"Don't you try and twist your words, Quinn!" you interrupted him, your voice sharp and accusing. The hurt and anger in your eyes were unmistakable as you continued, "I saw the messages, Quinn. Don't insult my intelligence by denying it."

Quinn's jaw clenched as he realized there was no way out of this argument. His own anger surged, and he retorted, "Fine, I lied about blocking her, but it's not what you think."

Your heart broke truly for the first time that night as he said those words. Your lip trembled as you continued, "Then what is it, Quinn? Why couldn't you just be honest with me?"

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't want to upset you, okay? I knew how much it bothered you, and I thought I could handle it on my own."

Your anger began to mix with a sense of betrayal. "So, you thought it was better to lie to my face instead of talking to me about it? Is that how you see our relationship?"

Quinn's shoulders slumped, realizing the gravity of his mistake. "No, Y/N, that's not what I meant. I messed up, and I'm sorry."

Silence enveloped the room, heavy and suffocating, as you sat back down on the bed. The tears you had been holding back finally began to flow, tracing a path down your cheeks. The pain and betrayal in your heart were almost too much to bear.

You felt Quinn's presence beside you on the bed, his touch warm on your shoulder. His voice was filled with regret, and you could sense the genuine concern in his words.

"Wait, baby, please don't cry," he implored, his voice soft and tender. He moved closer, his arms encircling you in a gentle embrace. You laced your arms around his waist as you let the tears freely fall.

Despite the anger and hurt that still lingered, you couldn't help but feel safe in his comforting touch. His embrace offered a sense of solace, a reminder of the love you share.

"I'll block her, okay?" He hummed softly as your cries paused and you nodded in his arms. "I'll block her," he kissed your head as he mumbled those words.

Those weren't the last lies you both would ever mutter. More lies would follow, weaving a tangled web of deceit between you both.

──

You had never been one to care, before Quinn. It was always one after the other, leaving no room to heal. No one had ever taken you like Quinn, no ever felt Quinn. He was one in a million, he was your equal.

Maybe that was the problem, he was too much like you. You should've known it was a bad idea once you realized how similar you two were. You were both fiercely independent, with strong-willed personalities and a desire for control over your lives. While these traits had drawn you together in the beginning, also fueled moments of conflict and clashes of wills.

Perhaps it was the old adage of "too much of a good thing." The intense passion and stubbornness that had drawn you together now threatened to tear you apart.

Arguments that once seemed passionate now felt exhausting, and you found yourselves butting heads more often than not. Quinn's stubbornness mirrored your own, and instead of compromising, you often clashed fiercely over minor disagreements.

Amidst the commotion, you couldn't deny the depth of your feelings for Quinn. He was, and would always be, the love of your life. You realized that love was not about finding someone without flaws, but rather finding someone whose flaws you could accept and embrace. Quinn was not perfect, and neither were you, but together, you were something good, something worth fighting for. Something good was something that was hard to find nowadays, and something you had never experienced, something that you now relished in.

So, you made a choice. You chose to ignore the problems, at least for the time being. It wasn't the healthiest decision, and deep down, you knew it. But the love you felt for Quinn was powerful, and you were willing to overlook the cracks in your relationship, hoping they would somehow heal on their own.

Now, in hindsight, you realized it wasn't the best choice.

"Jesus, Y/N! Give me some room, I just won the best game of my life and the only you wanna talk about is something you heard from someone you know is a shit-talker, Y/N." Quinn shouted as he walked away from you, into the kitchen. It was obvious he was avoiding the topic, you'd try to bring it up multiple times but now you just wanted answered.

Your frustration boiled over as you followed him, your voice sharper now. "Quinn," you snapped, "this is important, and you can't keep brushing it aside like it doesn't matter. We can't keep avoiding our issues."

"There aren't any issues, you're making them out of thin air Y/N." He replied sharply as he opened the fridge. "Fuck, I lost my appetite. Thanks, baby." The sweet pet-name sounded like an insult now as he glared at you.

His dismissive attitude only fueled your anger further. You couldn't let him brush this off any longer. "Quinn," you said firmly, "I'm not making this up, okay, this is just something that has bothered me from the beginning and I can't keep trying to ignore it. I want you to be honest with me."

Quinn let out an angry groan as he slammed the fridge making you jump as you leaned back from him. He noticed the change in atmosphere and he sighed. Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating his win and now it just felt like another night where you two fought.

He slammed the fridge door shut, his frustration boiling over. "You want honesty? Fine. I'm tired of you constantly questioning me, doubting my every move. It's suffocating, Y/N!"

"Quinn, what happened the first night we met?"

That statement made his face pale. Quinn shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape from the conversation. The air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken words, and for a moment, it seemed like he might try to evade the question.

But then, with a resigned sigh, he finally relented. "Fine, let's talk about it." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of nervousness that you had come to recognize. "It was a stupid bet, okay? My friends dared me to approach a beautiful girl like you and get your number."

Your heart sank as the truth spilled out. It confirmed your suspicions, but hearing it from him still stung. "No, but there's more. What about her?"

He knew who was "her" was, as he swallowed.

Quinn's discomfort was palpable as he reluctantly began to share more about that fateful night. "It wasn't just the bet," he admitted, his voice filled with regret. "There was this girl, one of my friends' exes. She was there that night, and she dared me to take things a step further."

Your heart sank even further, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up. "You slept with me because she told me to?"

He nodded, unable to meet your gaze. "Yeah, I did. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I should've been honest from the beginning, but I was stupid, and I wanted to impress her."

The room seemed to close in around you as Quinn's confession hung in the air. It was a heavy blow, and your emotions swirled in turmoil. The pain of betrayal and humiliation washed over you, making it hard to find words.

"You used me," you finally choked out, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. He tried to touch your hand but you moved it, "Don't touch me."

And now it all made sense, the texting, him insisting she was blocked (when you knew she wasn't), the glances back from his friends on the night you met. It all clicked, like a switch.

But as you looked back at him, it hit you like a truck. Your sweet boyfriend, the whole foundation of your relationship had been because of a bet and an ex. "You still talk to her?"

The silence answered your question and you felt your stomach turn in disgust. The room felt suffocating, and you couldn't bear to stay there any longer. Pushing past Quinn, you rushed out of the kitchen, the weight of the revelation heavy on your shoulders.

──

You and Quinn faced each other as you both laid in bed, smiles hanging on your lips as you exchanged sweet whispers of "forever."

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the curtains. It felt like a moment suspended in time, where the worries of the past and the uncertainties of the future faded away.

Quinn gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his soft eyes filled with tenderness. "I love you, Y/N."

Your heart swelled with affection, and you caressed his cheek with your fingertips. "I love you too, Quinn."

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you both knew that the path ahead wasn't easy. But for now, in that moment, you held onto the hope that love would prevail, and your story would continue, marked by its ups and downs, but bound together by a love that refused to fade.

──

Forever was the sweetest con. Promises of the best future were mere phrases, no literal meaning behind them.

As you stared into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, the eyes that still somehow showed admiration, you knew that this was the end. And in the depth of that painful realization, you also knew that, somehow, it was for the better. The love that had once bound you both was still there, but it had transformed into something unrecognizable, something that no longer served the happiness you both deserved.

In the midst of that silence, you could almost hear the echoes of all the beautiful moments you had shared with Quinn. The laughter, the whispered promises, the warmth of his embrace – they all seemed like distant memories now, fading into the abyss of what could have been.

Finally, Quinn's lips moved, and he let out a heavy sigh. "Y/N," he began, his voice tinged with sadness, "I wish things could have been different. I never wanted to hurt you like this."

Your throat tightened, and you fought to keep your composure. "I know, Quinn," you whispered, your voice trembling. "It's just too late to fix what's broken."

The words hung heavily in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the damage that had been done. You both knew that there was no turning back, no magic words that could erase the pain and mistrust that now defined your relationship.

The pain of parting was excruciating as you took a step back from each other, the unspoken love still lingered in the space between you. It was a love that would forever remain a bittersweet memory, a chapter in your lives that had come to an end.

With one final, longing look, you turned away from Quinn and walked towards your separate futures, leaving behind the shattered remnants of a love that had once felt like forever.

You would never love again, not like you did with Quinn. No would ever make you laugh like he did, or touch you like he did, or make you cry like he did. And maybe in some way, that was a good thing.

Maybe, in time, you would discover new forms of love, different from what you had known before. You didn't know if you even wanted that, you just wanted what you once had with Quinn, before any of the shit hit the fan. At the same time you knew you were destined for failure the moment he had come up to you at that shitty bar, the foundation was destined to break into a million pieces for you to pick up.

Maybe, in some other universe, it would've worked out. Quinn would've come up to you willingly and bought you a bellini and maybe, he wouldn't have been so hung up on his ex. And then, your promises would've been fulfilled; the big house in Michigan, with two dogs and a big family and an even bigger heart. Two boys and two girls, like he'd promised. So that the son had a brother, and the daughter had a sister, just like the both of you had.

It was a beautiful vision of what could have been, a dream woven with the threads of love and real commitment. And maybe, in this reality or another, there were still beautiful moments and dreams waiting to unfold and that brought you some kind of peace.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[fabuloustrash05]

So the DBZ Abridged Buu Saga clips are out, here are my thoughts:

Android 18 knowing about Maron and her and Krillin messing with people about their daughter being named Marron is genius (cause I always found it weird that Krillin named his daughter after his ex girlfriend)

It's kind of insinuated that both Vegeta AND Bulma see the Capsule Corp interns as slaves, just shows they are perfect for each other, but also shows Dr Breifs' evil side peeking through his daughter

Trunks and Goten's voices were so damn cute!! Shout out to their VAs!

Everyone making fun of Gohan's durag XD

KAISER VOICING SHARPNER!! "He knows I love him. You know I love you" Me: AND I LOVE YOU!! A character I did not like in DBZ is now one of my favs in just a minute!

I loved the detail of Trunks referring to Goku as Kakarot (makes more sense since this Trunks grew up with and spends a lot of time with his father Vegeta)

The baby shark bit XD

"Gohan, you taught him how to dodge, that's great!" "TRUNKS PULL UP!!" LMFAO

Dabura's voice! HOLY SHIT!! it was hot

Buu's voice was also good, similar to the dub but way less irritating.

Goku, Shin and Gohan's discussion on shopping carts and tipping, as someone who worked in both fields, I FELT THAT! THERES A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR THOSE PEOPLE

Goku's "oh no" and a little giggle when Shin asked if Vegeta has evil in his heart. Goku KNOWS what's gonna happen and he's gonna let it happen XD

Vegeta's "I know you're playing me..." line to Babidi being a parallel line to Perfect Cell

Lani once again NAILING THOSE SCREAMS as Vegeta!

Vegeta killing thousands of innocent people, Goku's okay with, but bringing potato salad to a BBQ, HES CROSSED A LINE!

"God I missed you..." that made me chuckle.

Vegeta going to BBQs and movie nights with Krillin, they are friends now and I love it (underrated dynamic in DBZ tbh), also Vegeta acknowledging that he's now referring to Krillin by his actual name instead of "the bald monk". I always felt that Vegeta referring to people by their names is his way of showing respect, so him calling Krillin by his name, he hates that he now respects Krillin.

"Too bad we couldn't finish our fight. I didn't get a chance to wip out my new form-" *Vegeta knocks Goku out* PFFP- HAHAHAHA if he only knew

"I'm going to hug you now" "Hug complete" *knocks Trunks out* "I'm a way better dad than Kakarot" ASDFGHJK LOLOL

Vegeta referring to Goten as KAKATOT lol <3

The "Vegeta no" "Vegeta yes" bit having a conclusion with an emotional impact tied to Vegeta's death.

Even as a joke, I still got emotional during the abridged version of Vegeta's sacrifice.

BEST BUDDY!! HE SAID IT! HE FINALLY SAID IT! WE ALL KNEW HE WOULD BUT GOD DAMN THAT FELT GOOD!!

[hanafubukki]

Hi ! Here cottage life with Lilia and the Knight of Dawn as Silver mom in the past Anon (I think I will need to find myself an smiley-)

First, thank you ! I'm happy this idea please you and other people 😊

But yes this OT3 is so so cute- My brain run free for it since then.

The relationship those three have...it's just melting my heart 🥹 The perfect trio. Lilia is a bit jalous that the first baby isn't from him -bat boi have his pride- but he just love Silver so much it doesn't matter much 🥺 Little funny fact about Lilia/Knight bromance: before Silver birth, him and the Knight (need to find a proper surname for him-) had a discussion. Like they didn't know who was the father between them, they had a unique way to deal with it: after the baby birth- when who is the father will be more clear- the guy that isn't the bio dad would name the baby. So no one would felt left away from the family.

Lilia blessed the baby at birth, and like in Chapter 5, the baby hair turned white. So Silver's name was back like that 😂

So much things about them...like, rumors runs fast thanks to the forest fairies. But the little family -except when Lilia is called to the castle- don't go often outside to not scare any fairy. So...one day, a toddler Silver ran away to the famous "Castle" were "Dada Lilia" was kept against his will by "This cruel brat of a Princess who want him to "babysit" (Something really cruel and scary from Dada Lilia word-). So Meleanor first encounter with Lilia rumored "son" was this child -monkey- pleading her to -politely- give his Dada Lilia back.

And this is only some funny story 😭 The guilt our time traveler could felt is also interresting. Silver was born and will grow up way before what he was supposed to do. Did this child is -will be- even the same Silver she knew ? And he will never met Sebek in this life. Will this child will be ressentful ? What kind of right does she have to change history -fate- like that ? What will happen if she dissapear, like she came- and go back to her time ? What will happen to her new found family, her husbands, her child ?

But a single giggle of her lovely silver haired baby is enough to make her worries dissapear in a smile. How scary it is, to be so happy at the point you fear the day it will be end.

(References: Fanfic, Ask 1, Ask 2)

Hello Cottage Life Anonie 🌻🌺💚

I’m labeling you Cottage Life Anonie until you find a emoji or nickname you prefer ☺️🌺 please feel free to choose whichever that makes you comfortable and happy.

Anonie you have no idea how happy I was when I saw you in my inbox, I was already kicking my feet in excitement ☺️🌺

Hehehe my evil plan of getting more people to like this OT3 is working 😈🙌 lolol I’m really happy that you and others like it. It makes me happy and I’m glad I can share these thoughts with others who like it too.

A knight of dawn x reader x lilia vanrouge pairing has so much potential and routes that I’m just thrilled at all the possibilities 💞💞

Lilia being jealous of the first child not being his is adorable. I can just see him make that face that says he’s pouting but denying it 😂 but he adores Silver so much and he’s also your child, so how could he no love him? Baby Silver with his glittering eyes and you just being so loving with him is perfect.

I adore that agreement Knight and Lilia had about naming the child. It’s so sweet and smart! And another way to include the mutual partner! No one is left out and everyone is loved 🥹 it’s so sweet!! (We need a name for Dawny, I hope we get one for him in twst 🙏)

Oh oh Anonie! Now that you mention the hair color change, some theorize (because of the sprite) that the upper layers of Knight’s hair is blond and the bottom layers are silver!! So if that’s the case, Lilia just turned Silver’s hair fully silver which is also what Dawny has on his lower tresses so this bromance keeps getting sweeter and the connection is still there 🥹

Absjsjshs tiny Baby Silver just toddling away to the castle to save his Dada Lilia like a true knight in shining armor!!! That’s so freaking adorable 🥹💞😭 I can imagine that the little fairies that love Silver and love mischief helped teleport him to the castle where he meets Meleanor and Lilia. You have this sweet child asking so nicely and the Queen’s heart just melts (she also adores his bravery). Meleanor then tries to smite Lilia because of the “bratty” comments 🤣🤣

Now I can imagine Meleanor require a weekly dinner with everyone, she can see Baby Silver, and if malleus is hatched, he can have a playmate. She can also meet the Knight and the Reader (not on the battlefield for once). It’s awkward at first but nothing that time and Silver’s bubbly laughter can’t fix 🥹💞

There’s so many angst potentials! Ahhhh the guilt of the time traveler wife. Silver not growing up with Sebek, not living in the same timeline ( would his friend be mama zigvolt in this case? 🤔).

Would wife tell the husbands about her situation? What happened in her timeline? I feel like if they knew they would understand, and their hearts would ache from the sacrifices she made to have them be happy. 🥹😭

I want to focus a little bit on the if she ever went back to the present, well, this new present that’s the same yet so different. I feel like if YN did go back she would at first be devastated once she realizes she’s back and what she lost. But but but, we have powerful fairies on our side. 👏🙌

I believe in this case, with the help of Meleanor and Lilia (maybe even Levan? He’s smart so he might know more about it). They would put both Silver and The Knight of Dawn to sleep until they are reunited with YN 🥹💚

So, this would solve a few problems actually! Sebek would be in the picture again, and we have Malleus and his parents, and of course, we have Lilia too.

Lilia could be waiting for YN at the spot she said she was teleported from the first time and they could have their reunion before waking the other two. 🥹💞💞 The reunion would be so sweet between the four. Lilia was waiting but at least he had his sister and baby malleus and the rest of his family and friends while he waited. He can go to that cottage and relive memories and remind himself of his loves.

The way this OT3 AU has a grip on me 😭💞💚

Anonie, Anonie, I am shaking you.

“How scary it is, to be so happy at the point you fear the day it will be end.” This line!! This line!! Oh my heart. 😭💞💞

Thank you for sending this in Anonie 💚🌺, ahhh I’m enjoying this so much and my mind is whirling with so many possibilities. You’re my partner in crime now ☺️🌺

[fraternum-momentum]

Hey! I love your art!!! Tho, I was wondering if you could tag your ocs names cause I’m new but I’m really interested in your ocs and want to learn more about them :)

It’s okay if you can’t tho! Hope you have a great day

YOOO HELLO welcome to the blog :D i hope you enjoy your stay here and thank you !! i finally finally gave some of them names so I can make tags, that's mainly why it took so long to answer this 😭

Azalea, Melanie, :o), MC, Gabriel, Nigel, Kian, Theo.

(the actual tags are also in the tags of this post)

Here's some contextual and random facts about them lolol:

Azalea and Melanie are characters of a webcomic I'm making ! It's just a little passion project that I'm slowly working on. (emphasis on slowly)

Theo is just a nickname. His actual name is Theodore. MC's name is still TBD.

They're also gonna be in a comic thing :D but more episodic and slice of life-y instead of an overarching plot.

Kian makes pipe bombs in his basement.

Kian is based on a rock I got on a random beach. I took a picture of it and put a bunch of stickers and gave it a personality a few years ago bc I thought it would be cute 💀 I have other rocks that still needs to be gijinka-fied LMAO (my fave is this one beach glass named Kelsey)

I was debating on naming the jester clown guy JJ but i decided against it, it's cute but ehh idk.. I might change my mind on it if I can't think of anything.

Kian and friends + the jester guy + that one teeth guy that I didn't include here (whoops) are mostly just one-offs and don't really have an ongoing story. I made them mostly cause I wanted to design a cool looking character. Maybe I'll do smthn with the rock friends but I don't really have any ideas :P

Nigel and Gabriel are part of this western cowboy universe thing I'm doing on the side. A lot of wonderful people have made ocs for it :DD !!!

make of that what you will 👼

Gabriel has a twin sister named Mica, who also helps around their church.

Nigel is just an amalgamation of the kinks i like (that will not b disclosed !!!!!). Cause I thought 'hey, why don't I make a blorbo that has all my kinks that would b awesome ahaha' and look at me now.

Also BTW i know Nigel is technically a cop but he's more of a classic cowboy than an actual police officer. I added that random fact just for the cowboy³ joke. ACAB.

[strangerscallmegray]

Are we the same?

Hello guys, I hope you like this. I was out looking for Joel Miller x son!reader fics and I could find very little male reader or GN reader fics and so I impulsively decided to create this series. I hope you will like it. The first chapter is going to be exploring Joel's PoV. I'm new here so I don't understand much, hopefully I'll learn along with you.

So, the thing is I have not seen the last of us, it is just recently that I discovered the fanfics and I really liked them, I'm going to watch it soon. So, I apologize for any timeline discrepancy as well as factual errors that might be there in the story lolol.

------- x --------

Joel had a difficult relationship with his son. It was not that Joel did not love him, no, he did, he immensely loved the kid, how could he not? He was his son. You were the last remaining person from his family. The life and family he had had before everything went to shit. But there was a distance between you and Joel, one that Joel deeply lamented. It started after Sarah died. Joel felt like you blamed him for what had happened. You had always been a loving older brother to Sarah and losing her broke you too, you were never quite the same and he couldn’t say he was either.

Joel watched as you went outside the house after the latest argument you had had. Arguments were not uncommon between the two of you. It was simple, Joel still felt you were too young to be going on patrols with him. Whereas you felt you had never been more ready and to see Tess take your side had been heartbreaking for Joel. Tess would not forget the look of betrayal that had etched onto his face when she had done that. Tess had later given him a lecture saying if he wanted his son then he’d have to let him do what he wants to do even if that included danger. Joel had cried out in anger then saying that he’d rather have his son alive and hate him than dead. He and Tess had needed a lot of time to recover from that. He had already lost one child and he was not planning to lose another any time soon. Now, since Joel did not have a say in what you wanted to do, he put his everything into training you. He wanted to teach you everything he knew so that you could survive even if he is not there. He was very proud of you and how far you had come. You never complained when it came to training, even if you had arguments with your dad, sparring sessions were a must, even if it just helped in releasing pent-up frustration.

Joel was sometimes very harsh with you and he knows that. It was because maybe he got so lost when he lost Sarah that he forgot he had another person depending on him. Some days the guilt consumes him and the others he feels like you need the rigidity to make yourself better, that it is what you seek from him. Tess had told him many times that his harshness might reflect negatively on you since you were only 16. Sometimes he thought that surely Sasha must be rolling in the grave over what kind of a father he had become. A memory flashed through this head.

“This is a waste of time, they’ll have finished turning you by the time you get back up from the ground.” He said.

You were panting having fallen on the ground. “I am…..trying.” you said in between of breaths.

“Not like that you are not, the only thing you are trying to do right now is getting yourself killed, if that was your mission, congratulations, you succeeded.”

You had glared at him, still not getting up, “What the hell is your damn problem with me!?” you had shouted and stood up walking up to your dad. “You can see I’m trying, we only started practicing a week back and Tess says I’m doing good, why do you always have to be so critical of me as if I can never be any good?”

“I don’t know what Tess has been seeing, all I am seeing is that it was a mistake allowing a 14-year-old out on patrols.” Joel had said. He couldn’t understand why he was being so unnecessarily harsh.

Tears stung your eyes as you said, “I will prove you wrong Dad, I will be the best hunter you’ve ever seen.” You had said and walked away.

And you were most definitely the best that Joel had seen, he just failed to communicate it to you. He wished he had been more understanding back then.

Then, then came Ellie, the kid who reminded him too much of Sarah, the kid full of life and so opposite from both him and you. In the beginning he didn’t know how to act around her but slowly he warmed up to her. She was not replacing Sarah, nobody could replace his Sarah ever but Ellie was not Sarah, Ellie was Ellie and that was why he had grown to care for her and he knew he had grown paternal towards her. He had seen the way you interacted with Ellie too, you had never held something she didn’t even know against her. You had even taught her a couple of things and his heart swelled with happiness whenever he saw that. An emotion he was sure he would never feel again.

“Is he your son?” She had asked pointing towards you who was standing with the group explaining something to them.

“Yes.” He had said, short and crisp, he didn’t want to discuss it and he hoped she’d get the hint. She did not.

“Then why is he on patrols? He doesn’t seem that much older.” She looked curiously.

He had looked at her and glared “Why don’t you ask him the same then maybe even I will know.”

And after that, it felt the most normal than ever in Jackson, but he just wished he could mend his relationship with his son. He wished you would stop looking at everything he did for you in negative light and stop seeing him as the enemy.

Soo, I hope you liked that, let me know what you think. The next chapter will be your PoV.

[otomiyaa]

Re: Catching Up

Finally reading the reblogs and mentions of my tag game (my main reason for starting that was to read about what y'all are up to while I neglected tha dashboard lolol) and dumping some replies here to some peeps I follow^^

General note to all: so happy to see the multiple excited reactions to Inside Out 2 hehehe, I loved it so much T0T

@crazy-as-a-jaybird THE SIMS 4 LOVESTRUCK!!!!! I didn't know that was coming! I haven't played the sims in a long time, but gee that's exciting news, thnx! ..... I wonder if there will be some nice loveydovey tickle animations in there....

@italeean "You guys probably already know what I'll say" (about Jujutsu Kaisen 0 movie), actually I don't know 👀 it's been a while since I saw that movie when it was released in the cinema here, but you made me curious to your reaction. What did you think? :3

@giggly-squiggily omg Blue Lock & Haikyuu hypehype and did you also love to see these lazy gamer guys Kenma and Nagi dominate the big screens as heroes to their respective movies, so shortly after each other, what a time to be alive 🤩

@fantasizes-tickles-daily My Adventures with Superman ng;dngifdgjdhljfni;oji I still need to start the new season but omfg I'm so glad finally someone else is into this hehehe, I love that! I'm also not a big DC fan, I didn't even see most movies, but I LOVE THIS ONE. Clark is the cutest isn't he?

@eliankrios YOU PLAY THE SIMS 4????? 👀 also thank you for those banger song recs. I only knew 'save my life' from xandria but not valentine or others :3

@wertzunge Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, I saw that one on the plane a while ago, I enjoyed that too!!! I wonder if they will do more :3 I never played the game though....

@tiklart SHARK MOVIE SUFFERERS WE ARE HAHA, also good luck on your exams!🫶 sending good luck vibes~

@gladdygirl18 ❤️❤️❤️ sending good love life prayers, hope all will go well! and yay for fellow minecraft enjoyer :D

@sunstone-smiles I LOVE ESPRESSO odjs;dgjhih ih but I didn't like it at first either :') it had to grow on me too.

@kusuguricafe seeing you talk about your genshin abyss teams makes me go 💀💀💀 it's been so long since I played genshin, especially abyss. Are you managing the 3 stars each chamber f12 cuz I've only succeeded like once at it or smth. oh and I hope you'll have fun writing again soon! Don't push yourself too much for tickletober, as long as it stays fun*w*

@blobbirobbi wow I knew all 3 of those artists but not those songs, thnx for the recs :D especially the Måneskin hohoho

@sleepysheepytea feels indeed like ages since I saw your activity on my dash, wishing you the best of luck with work and stuff^^

@hypahticklish that was literally my reaction too to the movie The Fall Guy, I loved that so much and you described it so well 😍 I thought it would be a "Haha funny" movie but it really moved me and I also didn't expect the first part to be so emotional. p.s. thnx for the blank copy paste, sorry for forgetting 🥲🥲

@a-fluffer-nutter wow good luck on the move to the UK and congrats on 8 years tumblr, I still remember you being one of the first tk blogs i encountered 😌

@lovelymessybubbly wooow it feels like AGES, sorry to hear about the low mental energy but hope you're doing well ^^!

[cywscross]

Hi cywscross, I was reading your fics recently (I love them so much!!) and I saw that you're working on a lot of bingos. I was thinking about signing up for some myself but I'm not really sure where to find them. If it's not too much trouble could you recommend me some?

lmao don't call me out like this I'm glad you liked my fics! And yes, I can list some here for you. I can list a lot for you.

First of all, there's a couple on Dreamwidth that I signed up for a few years ago and are still ongoing right now:

Tic Tac Woe - This one is a 3x3 bingo with a focus on apocalypses. Multifandom. No posting deadline.

Gen Prompt Bingo - 5x5 bingo with gen-style prompts, so no specific focus on romance or sex. A new round (with renewed prompt list) begins every April and December. Multifandom. Technically you should try to finish a card in the round you signed up for, but you can keep working on it and post it to the corresponding collection even after the round is over, and you don't need to finish a previous card to sign up for a new one.

Tarot Bingo - This one isn't on Dreamwidth but I'll slip it in here anyway. Like it's name, it's basically a bingo made up of tarot cards. It's on hiatus at the moment but you can check back at a later date. Multifandom, no posting deadline.

For the ones on Tumblr, there are quite a few more:

@fandombingo - Advertising my own bingo first lolol. You can sign up for a 5x5 bingo for a specific fandom or crossover of your choice. This one has no posting deadline, you can sign up anytime and post anytime. Recently, I also added mini-bingos to the line up, with prompts drawn from a specific fandom of my choice, but you can use the prompts for any fandom you want. Mini-bingos run when I have time, but so far, I've managed to stick to a monthly schedule, so signups for each one opens on the 5th of every month. Also no posting deadline.

@badthingshappenbingo - 5x5 bingo with a focus on dark/angst/whump prompts. Multifandom. No posting deadline.

@anyfandomgoesbingo - This one has a whole bunch under its umbrella - angst, AU, dark, fluff, kink, etc. You can get a 5x5 card for any (or all) of them. Multifandom. No posting deadline.

@julybreakbingo - This one has so many prompts it's insane. JBB runs only in the month of July (signups are currently open but end July 7th this year!), but they have a Post-July Break Bingo that starts after July is over and runs until next May-ish, and Pre-July Break Bingo starts May/June-ish until the end of July. They might also host a couple other events throughout the year so you can keep an eye out for that. They have various card sizes you can choose from, and it's multifandom.

@sweetspicybingo - Sweet & Spicy Bingo has hosted several bingos so far, they tend to be a couple months long each time. At the moment, their latest Hurt/Comfort Bingo has closed, but they'll probably come back soon with something new. Multifandom. Some have posting deadlines but you can keep working on them afterwards, you just won't get a badge for it.

@hurtcomfort-bingo - As you can see, this one is a bingo for hurt/comfort prompts. Their second round is open at the moment (closes August 9th) so you can check that out. It's multifandom with no posting deadline. They've also run one mini-event so far (closed now) so they might run another in the future.

@seasonaldelightsbingo - This one has hosted several bingos with a focus on that particular month/season (winter, valentine's, spring, etc.). They're also on hiatus at the moment but they should come back in the future. It's multifandom, and the posting deadline is I think a year from when signups open. But again, I think you can keep working at it afterwards.

@lyricalescape - A 5x5 bingo with song titles/lyrics for prompts. I think they're still running? Their queue list hasn't moved in a while but they also haven't made any closing announcement so I'm assuming they're still open. Multifandom with no posting deadline.

@fandom-free-bingo - This bingo is a heavyweight too. It hosts a new bingo at the start of every month, with a different theme each time, usually based on the month. Their July bingo is Plurality so you can check that out. Signups run for the whole month. 5x5 and 3x3 cards, multifandom, they'll reblog your works for up to a year but no real posting deadline.

@multifandom-flash - This one also hosts multiple bingos, and all of them are open indefinitely. They have calendar events (bingo based on the month) but also other random ones (soulmates, fear, Marvel, etc.). Card sizes vary. No posting deadline. Most are multifandom, some are fandom-specific.

@eclipsingbingo - This bingo has prompts with a focus on angst and fluff. Their main one is always open, but they've also run one flash bingo, so they might do that again in the future. Multifandom, no posting deadline.

And that's about it! There are others, but these are the ones I've signed up for. It's a lot lol so you can take a look and see if any of them strike your fancy. Have fun!