#ahh mutuals i need friends

[girlscoutbrownies]

introduction post ii.

okay this is the second introduction post i've made

hi! i'm isen, or aiden. feel free to call me whichever you'd prefer. i am a fictionkin of aiden clark from school bus graveyard and isen from unordinary. of course i have more kins but those are my main two. please do not interact if you are anti fictionkin or anti irl!!!! also interact mediamates :3

i go by xe spark she it pronouns, but feel free to stick to just one! i use any gendered terms.

i mostly post school bus graveyard, marionetta, or project sekai stuff on this blog, or just random things i think about. it'll probably be really rare if i say anything else, but i sometimes reblog other fandoms! feel free to talk to me about anything you think i'd like. i also draw and write! my ao3 is girlscoutbrownies, although at the time of writing this i haven't updated it in a while.

before you follow or interact : i'm a minor. seriously, it's in the bio. don't follow if you're a nsfw account or something. i may be awkward and nervous around people i don't know well or have just met. i'll warm up quickly, though! i block accounts that have nothing on them (no banner name or reblogs.) just show signs of life!

don't interact : basic dni criteria, anti irl / anti fictionkin, [anything]phobic, nsfw accounts. also, if you interact with the intention to hate on my interests for whatever reason, then i'll just block you.

by the way, i'm not omniscient! i can't see everything, so please tell me if i reblog something from a problematic user or if i do something wrong !!

tagging system under read more! ^_^

#aiden rambles - my main talking tag! most of my posts will be under here, unless theyre reblogs or something.

#sbg - tag for all my sbg posts. if it's an image dump or analysis, then i'll also tag #school bus graveyard

#pjsk - pjsk posts. usually reblogs.

#marionetta - my marionetta posts! usually analysis posts or commentary on the latest episode. (for some reason, these always get more likes than my sbg posts...)

#ask - for my very, very few asks...

i don't really tag my reblogs (although i definitely should,,,) and there are more tags that i use that i forgot about but these are my main ones. if you ever have an inquiry, feel free to talk to me on discord! dm me for tag ^_^

[pixielusts]

NEED someone i can send my nudes/lewds to before i post then anywhere

[thedeadthree]

— TAG GAME.

TAGGED BY the dear @marivenah and @leviiackrman to answer a few questions! ty ty so much love!

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @jendoe, @kingsroad, @chuckhansen, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @denerims, @phillipsgraves, @jillvlntine, @morvaris, @aartyom, @minaharkers, @unholymilf, @leviiackrman, @jacobseed, @arklay, @corvosattano, @jackiesarch, @malefiicarum, @pearlcscent, @shellibisshe, @weisshaupts, @shadowglens, @leondaltons, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @belorage, @confidentandgood, @girlbosselrond, @thee-morrigan, @rosebarsoap, @fragilestorm, @lacunafiction, @noonfaerie and you!

THREE SHIPS: inspired by mari <3!

THREE CANON SHIPS: geralt x yennefer, corlys velaryon x rhaenys targaryen, and arianne martell x daemon sand!

THREE OC SHIPS: iovanna dayne x daemon targaryen, edelgard vanderweyden x reese verner, maekar targaryen x aeryal arvel (carolines dear!)

THREE MUTUALS SHIPS: mo @kingsroad's alyse x aegon (they mean the world to me!), ash @unholymilf's iconic varya x roman (forever the moment!), airika @chuckhansen's nina x adam (the loveliest! they're dear to me!)

FIRST SHIP: oo ok ok i want to say my first ship was I think? rajaion and ena from fire emblem path of radiance? that or? selina kyle/catwoman and bruce wayne!

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: an iced coffee ajanjnsk bc i am a responsible adult <3.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: my 3829838th rewatch of house of the dragon <3 am i surprised? nay nay! its not at all for oc lore! (leg says like a liar jnjanj <3)

LAST MOVIE: the batman! <3 and one i recently adored seeing was bullet train as well! (ty ty orion and ash for introducing me bc of ur ocs u dears u!)

LAST SONG: its been stuck in my head all week! the fruits by paris paloma <3

CURRENTLY READING: rereading fernweh saga by the dear aelsa! and fire and blood by george rr martin <3 (leg once again says its bc they want know more of what’s in store for the characters and not for oc lore at all like a liar <3)

CURRENTLY CRAVING: my mom is making sauce so i have pasta on the brain <3

[sir-dickington-s-blog-yippee]

we should have a genre of posts for ppl who need mutuals

[etherealyoungk]

im sorry i literally cried in the tags and ended up writing a whole scenario down there ajfkfkgk i got carried away 😔

how seventeen deal with your period cramps

requested by anon: "Would it be ok for you to write : How would Seventeen react and help with bad period cramps ? (I am currently on my period and its killing me... I can barely stay up, cramps are hurting as hell, I have nausea, hell I feel the worst...)"

notes: tw for menstruation pain, reader therefore has a uterus

masterlist

seungcheol:

tbh he's kinda a little bit Clueless, but he tries his best. cannot fathom the amount of pain you're in, but he does his research and immediately jumps up to boil water for a hot water bottle the second you tell him you're on your period. is confused by the idea of pre-menstrual syndrome n thinks that it's very unfair: bc you can be in pain???? even before the actual menstruation itself???? that sounds terrible :((( always has his arms open for a hug

jeonghan:

spots its arrival better than you. can tell when your period is coming like some sort of seer. has a cupboard full of chocolates and snacks which he stocks up constantly and allows you to take your pick of whatever you feel like having when you're on your period. insists that you don't have to do anything while you're going through the worst of your cramps, tells you to just lie down w the hot water bottle he made for you n he'll do whatever you need okay? 

joshua:

you Need to tell this man whenever your period starts bc otherwise he'll get upset that his calendar is all messed up :(( i firmly believe shua is the typa guy to keep track of your schedules for you, even if your cycle isn't regular. does Everything you want. you wanna eat a whole tub of Celebrations? he's rooting for you. need to cry bc the world is just too frustrating? tell him what movie you wanna cry to, he'll stream it illegally if that's what it takes. will probably also end up crying w you, but hey, we love a supportive guy <3

junhui:

curses the menstruation gods every time you tell him you're having cramps again. is essentially trying to stuff you full of painkillers the entire day bc he hates the idea of you being in pain </3 wanted to buy one of those period cramp simulator machines to see how bad it was for you, ended up chickening out when you told him vv seriously that it was like being thrown into the pits of hell. isn't allowed near the kettle to boil water for you (due to previous Mishaps), so he'll give you a pillow to put over your stomach and hug you in his arms for warmth

hoshi:

is confused for all of two seconds every time you tell him you're having rlly bad cramps (again?? didn't you have them last month??) before it clicks in his head. coos and baby-talks to you, offering his shoulder for you to sleep on if the physical contact will help. builds you a pillow fort to get comfortable in practically every single time. you had a really bad headache one month, and so now he's constantly talking in a hoarse whisper when your cramps are bad

wonwoo:

he's not Entirely sure what to do, but he does know that period pain can often manifest itself in mood swings, so he's always extra caring and considerate around your time of the month. will Let himself be yelled at if you do end up getting frustrated, then will hug you and pat your hair to help you calm down after. makes hot water for all the hot water bottles that you're ever gonna need. 

woozi:

makes sure you take your painkillers on time, and also makes sure you eat. he's heard from his mom that loss of appetite can happen often during periods, especially when cramps are bad, and so he encourages you to eat foods with lots of magnesium and nitrates in it. will hug you if the cramps are really bad and you're practically crawling to him in tears. will probably hug you even if you're only pouting and talking in a sad voice tho, tbh. 

minghao:

he researched that milk chocolate and white chocolate increase cramps pain, and so now he only ever gives you dark chocolate that's 60% cacao and above. has encouraged you to take up meditation when you're not on your period, saying it'll help strengthen you. you're still not entirely sure it's working, but then again, it's better to try than not. swaddles you in fluffy blankets and cushions bc seungcheol stole the hot water bottle to help with his indigestion or something

mingyu:

he's a lil confused, but he means well. carries you bridal-style everywhere you wanna go. searched up the types of foods best to eat to help with period cramps, and cooks food with lots and lots of spinach in it. regardless of whether you like it or not, because it's good for you and makes you feel better. spoon-feeds you the soup he makes, asks if it's making you feel warm inside with his adorable bright eyes

dokyeom:

has a little corner in the bottom of his wardrobe full of sanitary pad packages, bc one time he panicked when you asked him to buy you some and practically cleared the whole shelf of them. also has like 3 boxes of chocolates stacked on top of them bc of that same time where he panicked and ended up buying too many. as a result, always has supplies whenever you need them. is a little clueless too, but he's willing to help w lots of hugs and warmth!! 

seungkwan:

Knows your menstruation cycle for you. frets if you're a few of days early or a few of days late. if you have an irregular cycle, then oh god he's analysing everything to see if there's any sort of pattern. ngl he's a little nervous of you when you're on your period, but he's always ready to open his arms for you to draw you in for a hug if you need. starts crying if you end up crying bc of the pain/ mood swings, bc he's an empath okay n he feels your pain so bad

vernon:

i get the feeling he's like. the hidden pro at dealing with cramps. you tell him that you're hurting, and he's already boiled the kettle to make you a hot water bottle, arms laden with snacks and blankets and do you wanna come into his room to relax and watch the new movie he's fixated on or do you wanna just go to your room by yourself and sleep? big encourager of sleeping through cramps, bc he swears it helps so much and actually. he is so right it really does

chan:

went through like five different brands of paracetamol with you during your previous cramps to see which one was the best n lasted the longest. steals the expensive chocolates from mingyu's stash bc really, the guy has far too much and it's more deserving to go to you when you're in pain and also pls share w him as a thankyou for getting them for you. offers to run you a bubble bath to help you relax, often forgets about the bath while he's doing other stuff and almost makes it overflow

request guidelines

[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. masterlist

“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

➸ take me to chapter five!

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[iloveboysinred]

cw; spanking, fingering, implied satosugu x fem reader, consensual filming (not explicitly stated), reader has female gentials, minimal editing, MDNI

“tape 3, discipline."

Suguru's large palms roughly grabbed your hips, positioning you right over his thigh, your ass facing the camera with nothing but a flimsy black thong just barely concealing your drooling pussy.

Suguru reached over, adjusting the camera's focus. "Listen closely Saturo," his hand came to roughly knead the flesh of your ass, making you tuck your face into the crook of your elbow, concealing your breathy moans.

"If and when she starts to act up, you're going to do what I do. Bend her over your knee, ass up and--" thwack! you gasped, flinching as he delivered a stinging smack to your ass, warmth blooming over the hand mark slowly developing on your smooth skin.

Suguru was leaving on a two-week mission in the country side starting next week. You had been nagging him all week about taking you with him, about how you’ll miss him and how only he could make you cum.

Suguru, ever the problem solver, decided to entrust your mutual good friend Saturo Gojo with your needs until he returned. In the past week he’s made 2 different video tapes detailing a step by step on how to bring you to your peak the same way he does, saving the valuable footage for Saturo to take notes on and use for when he wasn’t around.

He was going to leave it at 2, he really was. But two days before his mission you decided to push the right buttons, leading Suguru to film an extra tape documenting how exactly he gets you to act right should you give Saturo the same trouble.

"e-eighteen!" smack! "nineteen-" smack! "twenty!" Suguru hummed in approval, tenderly rubbing the sore flesh of your ass, a blooming red handprint appearing over the soft skin.

"Very good." Suguru hummed. He looked up at the camera, a small smile on his face. "See how good she can be when she listens?” And you almost wanted to kick him, and you would’ve— if he didnt have three fingers stuffed into your pussy knuckle deep.

He thrusted his thick fingers in and out of your sodden pussy at a steady pace. His finger tips prodded at the spongy surface of your g-spot, curling up and stroking your walls with sweet precision. Torturously, he dragged every obscene squelch out of your quivering pussy, purposely ghosting over your clit with the rough palm of his hand—giving you just enough to string you high, but never once giving you the satisfaction you needed.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Suguru praised, taking a quick glance at the camera. “Open so nicely for the camera to see.” You shut your eyes tight, warmth creeping up your spine at the idea of being filmed for your own best friend to see you fall apart in Suguru’s hands. You clenched your thighs together, clamped tight around his wrist at the thought.

“Ahh, you’re enjoying this,” he hummed, landing another swat to your ass, making you jolt. “Pussy getting so tight at the idea of Saturo watching us, hm?” And you shook your head, choking back a moan as his fingers sped up inside of you, his other hand coming down to rub and tease at your clit. “Tch, don’t lie to me, baby.” He sat you up, pulling his hands away from you to ease you onto your hands and knees.

“Since you like it so much, let’s give him a show.”

Masterlist

[etherealyoungk]

<3

[4:09]

pairing. k. mingyu x reader genre. fluff, gn reader, request w/c. 480+

"babe," your boyfriend's whiny voice reverberates in your ears as you blink awake. in your post-nap haze, it takes you a few moments to remember where you are and how you got here, but slowly, the memories of you snuggling up into mingyu's lap while you sat down to watch an anime with him return to you.

"gyu?" you ask randomly, lifting yourself off his chest to glance down, realize that you're still in between his legs on the sofa with one of his arms circled around your waist. turning to him groggily, you're met with mingyu's face with a pout right smack in the middle. "what?"

"you fell asleep on me!" he complains loudly and you wince at the noise, turning back to lay your head on his chest.

"'m sorry, i've just been tired," you mumble, curling up into his hold, and while he'd usually be endeared, mingyu isn't having any of it right now.

"that's what you said last time," he huffs, nudging you off of him. you gasp at the gesture, whipping around and pressing your hands on his chest. "don't give me that look," he warns, "i'm mad at you."

you frown, bringing a hand up to pinch his cheek. "i didn't fall asleep on you, i fell asleep on—" you glance at the tv to remind yourself what you were watching again, "—boruto. i fell asleep on boruto, not you."

mingyu rolls his eyes and as he crosses his arms over his chest he speaks "why do you even bother coming over to watch it with me if you're just going to fall sleep!? you might as well do that at your place. alone," he adds.

eyebrows knit together, you reply, "are you really upset just because i fell asleep watching boruto? c'mon gyu, this has nothing to do with you, i just find the show boring."

this time mingyu gasps. "first of all, i don't even know how you could say such a thing about boruto—"

"'m sorry, naruto is better—"

"not the point babe, not the point. and anyways, second of all, if you find it boring, why wouldn't you tell me?" he asks with a pout, the second sentence being much quieter and meek than the first.

your heart does a little pang when you see the softened expression on his face, and you turn your body fully to face him, straddling his torso as you cup his cheeks.

"because i don't care about the show, i care about being with you. when i fall asleep, it's because you make me feel cozy."

mingyu's bottom lip is still jutted out in a pout, but this time he grumbles something under his breath, and you laugh when you make out the words. "i guess that's okay then," is what you hear as he wraps his arms around, pulling you into his chest lovingly.

[pha55ed]

Everything I Know Abt Love || JMM21

type :: fluff tw/cw :: dumbass painfully oblivious!reader (their so me-coded) summary :: reader has been crushing on pepe since they were children, but is trying to get over their crush with a different driver. but that's impossible because it's fucking josep maria marti.

request :: can you write smth with pepe marti :D was thinkin something along the lines of the song “everything i know about love” by laufey. heavy mutual pining with an eventual confession and pure fluff <3 ur page is so nice and ur writing is so so so good 🫶 (AHH thank you so much! <3 you're so sweet!)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

liked by jakcrawford, christianmansell, sebastianmontoya, and 82,000 others

yourusername : Alexa, play So American by Olivia Rodrigo

yourbestfriend : YOU GOT ICECREAM WITHOUT ME???

yourbestfriend : wait a minute... 🤨

yourbestfriend : IS THAT A MAN....???

yourbestfriend : IS THAT P...?

yourusername : Noooo girl i need to update you so bad

jakcrawford : Your flavor looks like charcoal dust LMAO

yourusername : it looked purple under the store's lighting 😭😭

christianmansell : where's my thank you???

sebastianmontoya : what... 😀

pepemarti : same... 😀 sebastianmontoya : im coming over christianmansell : wait why??? sebastianmontoya : YOU CAUSED THIS YOU IDIOT

The date with Jak was sweet, almost perfect. He picked you up and called you beautiful, gifting you flowers. The entire time he was respectful, listening to you, and making you laugh. He was cute too, curly brown hair and an adorable smile. Everything should led to you liking him. Yet you couldn't.

The entire time you were still stuck on Pepe. Thinking about how Pepe would have gotten you flowers, but in your favorite color. How Pepe's hair was much softer despite being shorter. Not to mention that Pepe's smile is your favorite thing ever. It's not Jak's fault, he was lovely in every way possible. But you just couldn't imagine loving anyone else beside Pepe.

You grew up with Pepe, meeting at 11 year olds from watching your brother in karting. The rest is history. You met his friends and quickly formed a quad, with Pepe, you, Sebastian, and Christian. Throughout your entire childhood, you had a fat crush on him. But you could never tell if he liked you back or not.

But to Chris and Sebastian, it was painful to watch you both. They could tell that you both liked each other, maybe even loved each other. But you both were so awkward with each other that it seemed like you were friend-zoning each other.

Like for example, Chris and Sebastian tried to set you up both up by making a fake hangout. They planned a whole day of going to the beach and eating dinner, only for them both to get "sick" last minute. So it was just you and Pepe alone for the whole day, going to the beach and a fancy dinner.

Yet you guys still managed to turn one of the most romantic scenes into the most goofy and awkward. Collecting seashells, seeing who can hold their breathe longer underwater, and making a mess at dinner like you two were just clumsy and awkward best friends. When in reality, both of you were on the verge of a heart attack every time you accidentally touched.

So now you were stuck, alone in your room. Torn between either moving on or sticking with Pepe.

You barely had any time to think to yourself, because the very next day you were forced to attend the boys' Racing Sponsor party. Although you never liked going, it was fun with your friends and the food was always amazing. The only major cons was that the party was filled with business people trying to network and get new sponsors, but they usually left you alone once you just said you were a friend of the drivers.

So now instead of being alone in your room, with your thoughts eating away at your brain - you were alone at the large dining table. Seb promised to stay by your side, but he was pulled away by his engineers to try and talk to a fancy gasoline company so they could sponsor him. Chris also promised to stay besides you, but he was also forced away to go to a special engineering company. Pepe and Jak were also busy doing a ton of interviews and connections, they were very sought after.

You sighed, unable to help but just sit in your boredom as you picked at your food. Now you were wishing that those annoying business men would try to talk to you again just so you have something to do. Using your phone wasn't an option either, 1. because it's rude to do and 2. because your dress didn't have pockets so you stupidly gave it to Seb to hold onto.

But just as you were about to count the petals dead floral centerpiece in front of you, Jak sat next to you. Fuck, you thought.

"Hey!" He said, wearing a black tux just like everyone else in the room. "You look so bored haha"

His small chuckle was charming and cute, he was so "boy-next-door" coded. Jak's curls were a bit more defined and his suit had almost no imperfections on it. He obviously paid deep attention to his suit. You watched as he started to fiddle with his tie slightly as he sat next to you. It was clear he was a bit nervous around you, trying to put up a good first impression still.

"I can't lie, I am a bit bored." You say with a smile at his attentive nature. "I'm just waiting for it to be over so we can all go out and play games at Chris's house."

"We?" He asks, quoting you before connecting the dots as to who 'we' was. "Oh! You, Pepe, Chris, and Seb, right?" Jak tilts his head slightly, like a dog.

You simply nod, taking a mental note of how much of Jak resembles a golden doodle. One of the cute golden doodles, not the ones' with ugly human eyes. You wanted so badly to like him. It wasn't like you weren't aware of how cute and sweet he was. Yet your brain just wouldn't allow yourself to feel a spark between you two.

"Well uh, would it be okay if I joined?" Jak asked nervously, looking in your eyes.

Before you could answer, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Although you hated how embarrassing it was to admit, you could already tell who was touching you just by the fingertips and vein on the back of the hand: Pepe Marti.

"NnnnooOOO!" Pepe said, making you want to laugh but you knew it would hurt Jak's feelings. It was clear he had quite a few drinks, most likely due to the businessmen always pressuring the drivers to have a few shots. Mainly so they could take advantage of their drunken state and get them to sign any deal they wanted.

"Oh uh..." Jak sat their awkwardly, looking at how close Pepe's body was to yours despite him hovering above your chair. "Hi Pepe,,,"

"Hi JAK!!!" Pepe said, quite loudly, "Or should I say JAK - ASS!!! Hahaha,,, ha..."

Pepe's entire fucking head and neck turned to you, trying to see if you laughed at his awful joke. When he sees that you didn't laugh, his smile instantly died. You could tell that he was cringing at himself.

You knew you needed to get Pepe out of the room, before he does anything stupid. So you quietly excused yourself from Jak, apologizing for Pepe's lame joke. Although Pepe was perfectly able to walk over to you and Jak, all of the sudden he began to act as if he's never walked in his life. So he clung onto your waist, using that as support while you both exited the party.

It didn't make much sense for him to hold your waist for support. Holding onto your shoulders or even your head would make much more sense - but he insisted on holding your waist. But you weren't going to complain when he hand perfectly fitted there. And you definitely weren't going to complain when he was pulling you closer to his body on instinct, as if he was a magnet attracted to you.

You struggled to get his tall body into your small car. But you did it. Now you had to struggle with getting the buckle on him. Not that he's fat, far from it, he's quite lanky and lean. The struggle came from the fact that Pepe was insisting that he should drive. That the man should always drive the woman home. He even drunkenly giggled and said, "If I driveee, then we couldd kiss at red lightssss!"

He said that while looking up at you with a shit eating grin. As if he was trying to see if you would blush at his joke, which you did. And as if his cute giggle and smile weren't enough, he did a stupid little fist bump in the air after making you giggle, as if it was an accomplishment. He has never ever been this flirty with you, making you unsure of how to handle him.

You can't help but laugh even more at his stupid acts. And from your laughter, Pepe finally sat still for once. He was stuck in his seat, staring at you, completely star struck. His big dark eyes starring up at you while you giggled, he looked as if he's seen the Northern lights. His lips were slightly parted, mainly because he was tired from fighting you away from buckling him, but also because his breathe was genuinely taken away from his lungs.

And that's when you felt something click in you.

At that exact moment, when Pepe was looking up at you with big puppy eyes and kissable kips - you realized that you would never ever be able to replace Pepe. You would never be able to settle and date Jak just to move on from Pepe. Because in one single moment of Pepe barely saying anything, he made you feel more cherished than Jak did within your entire day. Because in one single moment of Pepe's eyes staring in yours, you felt your heart pound faster than it ever did when Jak gently held your hand at night.

You knew you needed to tell Jak soon. Although you knew that you and Pepe weren't an item yet, you were determined to get him to be yours. And for the first time within almost a decade - you felt as if you had a chance with him.

As you dragged Pepe behind you, you safely managed to get him up the stairs and into his apartment. It was a cozy place, with tan and beige furniture decorating the place. There were photos hung up of his friends and family, shelves filled with comic books and gifts from fans. It felt warm, homey despite it not being your home.

Due to Pepe's strong grip on you, as if he was glued to you, you were forced to throw him roughly onto his couch. You sighed out of relief from finally getting him to settle down. You were beat, ready to go sleep asap. Meanwhile Pepe was the exact opposite. He was still giggling and giddy despite there being nothing funny happening.

His smile was permanently on his face, but you weren't complaining. As you slumped down next to him, you could still smell the alcohol in his breathe. He lazily threw his hand on your thigh, looking at you before saying "You're so farrr".

The lazy grip he had on your thigh quickly turned into an overpowering grip, as he easily pulled you all the way close to him. Even though he got what he wanted, you being right beside him, his hand didn't leave your thigh. You were left in shock, never ever seeing this side of him. He's been drunk around you before, but never this drunk. You're lost on why he felt the need to get so drunk today, especially when he knew being drunk was a huge no-no at sponsor parties.

When Pepe saw your eyes widen, he instantly copied your expression. His hand left your thigh in a flash and he scooted away from you by a foot. "I'm sorry, did you not like that???" He asked, his words not slurring as much.

"No no, it's okay." You said as you looked at him, his shoulders relaxing at your words. You wish you could say the same, your shoulders were killing you now from having to bring Pepe up a whole flight of stairs.

Rolling your shoulders didn't help the ache, making you slightly wince at the soreness. Pepe, despite still being drunk, could tell it was because of him. He looked guilty, scooting a bit closer to you.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, the most gentle you've heard him all night. "I shou' have gone home on my own."

You shook your head, "Definitelyyy not, you would have crashed your car into a family of five or something."

"Better than hurting you," He said almost in a whisper. You watched his face scrunch up. He let out a light burp and threw his head back onto the couch. "God I feel awful already."

On instinct, you were about to get off the couch and get him some pain medication. But Pepe's arm shot out, blocking you from getting up.

"Not physically." He says, "But,,, mentally."

You tilt your head slightly, confused at what he meant. He looked into your eyes, able to tell that you had zero clue at all what he meant. A sigh left his lips, as if he was tired despite him being the one that got dragged up a flight of stairs and a ride home.

"I'm sure you'll feel awful physically soon." You say, "But why do you feel hurt, mentally?"

"I just," Pepe's voice was stuck, unsure of how to word himself. He let out a few murmurs but it wasn't actual words. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making him unable to speak or if Pepe just didn't know how to word what he was thinking. You were assume it was both.

He knew he wouldn't be able to outright state what he was feeling, so instead he opted for questions. "(Y/N), be honest with me." You nodded, shifting in your seat to face him. His tone sounded serious. "How do you feel about Jak?"

You assume he must have felt awful mentally for his rude jokes to Jak. "Oh, Jak is cool. If you're worried about your joke to him, I'm sure he'll just brush it off."

"Are you close now?" Pepe asks, completely ignoring your answer to his question. "After that date you guys had, seemed like fun." He says, his eyes not looking at yours. As if he was too scared to make eye contact with you.

"Um, it was fun. But I mean, I didn't feel a spark or anything-"

"Don't lie."

You were frozen, unsure of what to say. "I'm not lying...?"

"I see how you laugh at his jokes, how he looks at you, how you smile at him." Pepe says slowly, "Do you think you like him?"

His tone was so serious that you were caught off guard. But you knew the answer to his question now, thankfully you realized it this night. "No, I think we're just gonna be friends. He seems super sweet and nice, but not for me-"

"Then who is for you?" Pepe asks, this time looking at you. There was no smile on his face, instead a look of investigation. A look that seemed as if he was trying to put a mask on, to protect his feelings from getting hurt.

You knew the answer to this question to. But you weren't able to say. All you were able to do was stare into Pepe's eyes, watching them soften as he looked at you. You swallowed and broke the eye contact, feeling too intimate to keep staring into his dark eyes.

While you were looking away, Pepe scooted back close to you. Your knees touching. Although your head was still turned away, too flustered to look at him and unwilling to give him an answer. Pepe was staring right at you, his entire torso turned towards you to examine your whole body and features.

You didn't want to turn your head around and face him. You could tell that if you did, your faces would be only a few inches away from each other. Close enough to make your breathes touch each other faces. Although you were trying to look away from him, his hand gently reached for your face. There was no pressure in his grip, instead it was lightly guiding your head to face him.

Now your faces were close, eyes locked in, and bodies only a few inches apart. You looked at him, holding your breathe in fear that it stank from eating. His eyes and face were no longer tense, it was soft and looked as if he was pleaded. It looked as if he about to beg you for something, which he did:

"Please, please say it's me." He said in a whisper.

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

[satoruhour]

the racer toji smut won’t leave me alone so here is my additional brainrot bc my sister in christ we must suffer together <3

what about fem!reader who’s bf is a total ass bc he dragged her to the races but ignores her for the whole night bc he’s too busy showing off to the other guys and makes fun of her for not knowing shit about cars. she went to support him but he’s being so shitty and she goes to sulk alone near some quiet part.

a little boy comes to join her and he introduces himself as megumi, he hates crowds and loud noises so he sits with reader for a while, until his daddy comes along and his daddy is hot. toji introduces himself, asking what a pretty girl is doing alone in these parts and offers to show her his car but out from nowhere comes slimy bf who just embarrases himself trying to kiss toji’s ass and reader is like i need to break up with him

but ofc toji puts him in his place and tells him his gf is way out his league, and a real man would never leave his girl alone the entire night. it shuts him up fr and toji, megumi and reader leave to go check out some cars bc it’s nice to actually have someone tell you all about the cars instead of being made fun of for not knowing

the rest is obvs history bc megumi loves hanging out with reader and toji can’t keep his eyes off her. and vice versa hehe

a/n: jelly ur mind >>>>> also how did i write a whole FIC about this omfg im sick. i claim i dont like toji then write like this 💀💀 + can u tell how much i love making fun of incompetent men by the way i talk about reader’s shitty boyfriend cause youd be right. i hate men. ✶ / 2.2k

the stuffy parking lot had been a routine place for you at this point, taking the familiar route past shibuya 109 and into miyamasu-zaka avenue. you’re not entirely pumped to be in the car beside your boyfriend right now, who’s talking loudly and obnoxiously into his phone, but that isn’t what is irking you right now. you’re more worried when you reach there, sure to come face to face with his equally obnoxious friends who just can’t shut up about their cars.

it would be fine if they were being cocky and could back up their modifications and NOS with proper results from racing, but they were all losers, both figuratively and literally. you sigh for the umpteenth time when daisuke asks if you cancelled the dinner with your friends because he was going to celebrate his ‘sure’ win and you stifle the urge to laugh. sometimes you wonder why you’re still here.

“we’re here babe, c’mon, get out. i’ll go park the car and come back to get you,” as daisuke tells you this, he’s patting your thigh like you’re a dog, smiling his stupid smile and your brows knit together.

“can’t you just drive to wherever you’re parking?”

“ahh… no can do, baby — my parking’s somehow better when you’re not stressin’ me out in the passenger seat.” what were you doing dating a man who couldn’t even park? you groan into your hands, picking up your bag and exiting the vehicle, making sure to slam the door extra hard even if you’ll be getting a lecture later about harming his ‘baby’.

he’s perfectly fine watching your tantrum and doesn’t say anything except for continuing to smile, driving off without a care as he looks for a parking spot. thankfully you could save your face a little, since you were still early to the meet, a minimal amount of people lingering around the abandoned parking lot in their miniskirts and tights and tramp stamps — a look you definitely would’ve loved to try out if not for your boyfriend telling you you can’t show off your legs.

it’s like he has some personal vendetta against you, but really you think it’s just because he saved you from an unfavourable situation before and while at the time you expressed mutual feelings for him, he just might be holding you hostage with that favour he did for you, unconsciously feeling terrible if you were to leave him.

a few minutes pass, and then ten, and you’re waiting for a full fifteen minutes against a wall, all the while the classic crowd of tokyo is trickling into the car park, cars driving in slowly and you’re dreading every time someone enters, sure that you’re being judged for being daisuke’s significant other. and when the waiting time finally hits twenty, you’re taking matters into your own hands and turning the corner where he drove.

just to see him conversing with his loser friends who were already somehow there, showing off their own cars which they spent money on for nothing and laughing up a storm. you lug your body over, because while you were still somehow okay with daisuke, you couldn’t stand his friends.

“babe! ah, my bad, should’ve texted you that the boys were already here and that i was with ’em,” his affection was limited to just a hand on your waist, not wanting to look like a softie in front of them, “we were just talking about our updated NOS, or ‘nitrous oxide system’ for my cute baby who couldn’t remember it the first time.”

all you can do is burn in embarrassment as they laughed, ridiculing you for the mistake you made ages ago about the terminology of street racing that sometimes you couldn’t exactly grasp. you did your best each time, sometimes googling things about racing that you wouldn’t know otherwise, but because it was still pretty illegal in japan, it was difficult to find the specific terms they used. but with how much your boyfriend teaches you (as condescending as it was), you probably could’ve written an essay.

and it wasn’t a one-time thing either, from smacking your hand off the stick shift to pestering you about closing the car door more gently, you’re soon to reach your limit.

“yeah, i know what a NOS is, bitch.” you mumble under your breath, turning away from him as he continued joking with his boys before one of them shouted out someone else’s name, hiroshi, you heard and they all pile over each other like excited dogs, seeing his new and improved Mitsubishi Eclipse, a bright, striking green and your boyfriend follows them easily.

throughout the different races of the evening and the excitement, you’re left chasing after your boyfriend who can’t help but sidle up to different racers and their cars, and the dreaded situation you hoped wouldn’t arise, did. daisuke loved asking you questions with confusing numbers and letters, and then laughed in your face when you picked the wrong option.

so when he asked you whether a L72 or a 327 small-block was better for his sorry excuse of a Camaro from 1981, you answered that you knew they had used 327s for Yenko Camaros, but without the knowledge they had discontinued it since it wasn’t optimal performance for the car. “yeah, no, darlin’, they already stopped it and switched to big-blocks after ’69… i thought i taught you this!”

with lips pressed tightly together, you find that you hardly want to be here any longer, body turning hot with shame and tears prickling at your eyes. you don’t chase after daisuke when he walks off and nudges hiroshi about your limited knowledge about cars, hands clenching and unclenching into fists before you’re tugged gently on your jacket sleeve.

in front of you is a young boy, playing with his fingers shyly with a head full of messy black hair and strong features that scrunch up into an anxious expression and you’re squatting and wondering what business a young boy like him had in scenes like this before he’s explaining how he hates the loud music and noises of metal against metal and the sound of tires.

you frown, understanding him immediately as you ask if you can hold his hand to which he nods, “what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“fushiguro… megumi,” he mumbles, flinching when there’s an erupt of cheers from the concluding race.

“oh, honey, let’s go,” you squeeze his hand in solidarity, “let’s sit far away from the action, okay? you like music?”

megumi sniffles a little and nods again, calming down the further he is from all the cars, sitting down on the curb in an area where there’s fewer racers, it being a deadend for the route. soon, you’re fishing out your earphones to insert into his ears, playing a few favourites of yours at a softer volume to drown out the noise of the cars. you’re content to find someone as clueless as you in this whole thing, even if the other was a child, and you almost want to chastise his parents for leaving him so vulnerable in a place like this when said parent is looking left and right, jogging while looking for his son.

“that’s my dad…” megumi mumbles with hope in his voice as the man starts to call out for him, expression morphed into worry from the moment he looked down from his car to find megumi gone. the boy’s hands you back your earphones with a slight smile and a ‘thank you’ before running off, and you’re lunging forward just to make sure he’s safe, running a little behind him while he navigates his father’s voice. it seems like he doesn’t have much care for the loud noises when his dad is finally in view because he speeds immediately into his arms before a tall man comes into view, and you’re blessed with seeing this hot-ass dad in a baggy long-sleeved top.

“hey… thank you for lookin’ out for the kid. i’m fushiguro toji,” toji nods towards you in acknowledgement, looking past your face after appreciating it before glancing down to your figure. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

megumi who was propped up against his shoulder opts to cling to his father’s neck, hiding from the rest of the world while you walk slowly alongside the man, fingers thumbing the strap of your bag to keep your grounded. you were quick to explain that you were here because of your boyfriend, and you swear a glint of disappointment flashed in his eyes, but you don’t give it much thought because soon the man himself is running up to you with a renewed sense of confidence.

it was probably because toji was here; and sure, you knew about fushiguro toji and how much your boyfriend loved him, but you didn’t know how popular he could get, drawing countless pairs of eyes to your interaction. 

“hi! hi, fushiguro toji right?” and you’re already ready for the clownery to start when he opens his mouth, “i’m wakashita daisuke, big fan! any chance you’ll get back into racing?” daisuke is spouting so much shit you can’t even bear to look up but there’s one sentence that has got toji riled up, using just one hand to threaten your boyfriend who looks scared out of his mind. “you’d look so good with a Ford Mustang too, why don’t you sell off that old Corvette you’ve got—”

and soon toji is clutching onto the collar of his shirt, easily pulling him off the ground as the people surrounding you laugh and whoop. seems like you weren’t the only one who hated him.

“that Corvette means something to me, not like that piece of junk you call your Camaro. and at least i treat my car better than how you treat your girlfriend,” he spits the word like it’s venom, “who you can’t even respect as a person.”

daisuke is plopped onto the floor, but toji easily backs him up with a finger to his chest, “laughing like an idiot when she doesn’t know about engines and then saying you taught her — that would reflect your efforts as a teacher, wouldn’t it?” the man smirks when your boyfriend stutters out his answer, the crowd oooh-ing like it’s a free show.

“and then you leave her stranded for the whole night to hang with your boys, in a place where she’s uncomfortable and vulnerable. but you couldn’t give a shit, can’t you? you’re too busy sucking your friends’ cocks to notice.” there’s howls of laughter now (you can’t help but let out a giggle too) with how ruthless toji is being, all the while having a kid on his shoulder, but you imagine megumi is used to these types of altercations by now.

toji leans down to spit in his face, “you disrespect a woman in my eyes, you’re a joke to me.”

he just rolls your eyes, heading off from your stupid boyfriend and toji fully expects you to follow, beckoning you to go with him when you stay rooted. “c’mon, don’t mind him. he didn’t deserve you.” toji mutters, pressing a kiss to megumi’s temple as he leads you away from the scene silently, and you leap at the opportunity to thank him immediately.

“to be fair… i did all the research for my boyfriend,” toji interrupts with ex-, and you laugh, “yeah, ex-. but i’m not entirely opposed to learning about cars. they seem kinda cool.”

“is this your way of telling me you want me to teach you?” what’s a little flirting with a guy, anyway? even the other said it himself, daisuke didn’t deserve you. you nod with a sheepish smile, petting megumi’s head when he rouses from his dad’s shoulder, heart warming at how the young boy shoots you a gleaming smile.

toji shrugs with a little chuckle, “sure.” he’s keen on showing you his Chevrolet Corvette at the other end of the parking lot first, telling you about the specifications and the modifications he made for it to be suitable for drifting. he explains how his Corvette had to be converted to a rear-wheel-drive car, or a RWD to support the heavy stress on the back wheels to make a successful drift turn.

toji tells you the differences between a clutch kick and a shift lock and how to sustain a drift on a sharp turn, excited at finally finding someone who didn’t have a clue about racing. he even offers to show you, but you’re a little too intimidated by being in the passenger seat with him, especially when it’s going at high speeds.

“maybe another day,” you offer and toji picks up on your insinuation, trying to stifle at grin that maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided. he liked the way you talked to megumi, he liked the way you intently listened about his love for cars, and he couldn’t wait to get you in his car with a hand to your thigh.

“i’ll hold you to your offer, darlin’.” the name sounded so much better coming from his mouth, an attractive smile lining his face before he offered his free arm for you to hang on, gasping silently when you felt how toned his arm was. oh, the late night thoughts you already knew you were gonna have…

“i’ll tell you about the other cars here, let’s go.”

thirsts and drabble requests are open!

[chrizrizz]

The New Year Countdown

MDNI !! cw. fem! reader, whiney Chris, dirty talk, semi-public sex (dorm bathroom), unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap the willy ok), not proofread wc. 750 masterlist

"We should go back..."

You are sitting on the bathroom sink in his dorm, Chris's lips dancing along your collarbone. Your dress bunched around your waist, makeup smudged, you looked like a hot mess. Neither of you mind though, only focusing on each other.

Somehow every single thing in December went wrong and both of you were working the entirety of December, only stopping for the Boxing day. Neither of you had a job that was based around ordinary work hours and it resulted in spending the days between the holidays on the couch, both of you working on your computers.

When he told you, that the boys decided, that they would celebrate New Year's Eve together and invited a bunch of people over, you were over the moon. Chris proposed spending a few days after off with no work allowed. The group had a free first week of January and since you finished everything, you could afford to stop for a bit.

The living room was buzzing with drunk excitement, which you were part of just a minute ago. You were talking to one of Jeongins friends when your boyfriend came to you hugging you from behind. You could feel that he was tipsy too, just enough to get into his usual lovey-dovey state. His warmth reminded you of how much you missed him.

And it turned out to be mutual, because that simple gesture somehow led to you ending here, exchanging messy kisses with Chris. He tasted like the whiskey he had been nursing for the majority of the night, the chips he had been eating all evening, and your cherry-flavored lip gloss, that he had kissed off of you.

"It's almost mid- midnight…"

Detaching from your neck, he looks at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes. "We have to be quick then, huh?"

He slides your hips closer to the edge of the sink and opens your legs more, his pelvis brushing against yours. The contact makes him whimper, his head slumping against your shoulder.

"Chris, please," you breathe out. Your body tingles with need, his touches so close, yet so far from where you wanted him. You paw at his trousers, trying to unbutton them. "Please, I am ready, I am. I promise. Please."

"Yeah, baby, I know." He battles with his fly for a second, before groaning and pulling his pants and boxers down as much as he can without opening it.

He is so hard, it looks painful. You slide your panties to the side, shaking with the anticipation.

The leaking tip of his cock slides in without any resistance and you moan way too loudly, completely forgetting that there are people outside the bathroom.

You hear the voices getting louder and you realize they are counting down the seconds till midnight.

Ten!

Chris slowly pushes in and throws his head back, eyes shut close with pleasure. The view is borderline pornographic, making you clench against him.

Nine!

He slowly thrusts into you, savoring the electric feeling of your connection.

Eight!

"Kiss me, ahh, please, kiss- kiss me," you whine out. He obliges. The kiss is uncoordinated, teeth clashing against each other.

Seven!

You pull him closer to you, throwing your arms around his neck. Your hands find their way into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

Six!

He starts thrusting into you with newly found vigor. "You are sucking me innn… So tight. Baby, fuck baby, you are so tight."

Five!

While he babbles against your shoulder, you can hardly breathe, toes curling with pleasure.

Four!

"Baby I am gonna cum.. Will you cum with me? I can feel, ahh, I can feel you- you clenching around me… Fuck. Please, please cum with me."

Three!

Tears spill from your eyes, taking your mascara with them. You feel so full of love, full of pleasure, full of Chris.

Two!

"I am so so close Chris…" Your legs cross behind his lower back as your muscles start tensing.

One!

"Yeah, take it," Chris growls and slams his hips into you, as he paints your insides white.

Happy New Year!

The dorm is roaring with celebratory yells and laughs. You both are panting, unable to catch a breath. You feel your hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks burning from exertion.

Chris slightly pulls away and lays his forehead against yours. He smiles softly, the complete opposite of his rough behavior just a second ago.

"Happy New Year my sweet baby."

☆LIKES AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE CREATOR☆

[witchofthemidlands]

i am going feral over this post & how you’ve worded it because it is absolute perfection, it is word for word phenomenal.

with bibi as well, may i just add, who wanted him dead from the off, who started the madness & despite everything he did & took from her trying to ultimately convince them to stop in the penultimate episode because of minna & so none of them would get hurt.

footnote for our best guy:

roger, the good man, the kind, very religious, very forgiving man who wouldn't say boo to a goose ultimately helping grace hide what she did (arguably in self defence & in general, a public service) no questions asked.

thinking about the juxtaposition of the garvey girls. eva, who raised her sisters like a mother, can’t have children of her own. ursula, the nurse- a career dedicated to helping and healing-, has an affair that could ruin her family and supplies poison to her sisters. becka, the baby of the family whose innocence they all want to protect, ends up accidentally killing an innocent woman. bibi, arguably the most aggressive and vengeful of them all, views herself and her parenting poorly and shows severe guilt and remorse when she accidentally shoots a man’s eye out. and grace. grace, the pr!ck’s defender and apologist who views him through rose-colored glasses and is frequently depicted as weak, immediately calls him out on his sins and calls him a monster and ends up killing him in a physically and emotionally challenging act.

@witchofthemidlands

[brownskinlemon]

Honey (D.F.): PT 1

pairing: dominic fike x fem reader

warnings: 18+, angst, consumption of liquor, pt.2 WILL contain smut and course language, jealousy

synopsis: you and Dominic reunite after your almost-relationship, over a tall, hot, and overflowing cup of jealousy

word count: 1.543

authors note: ahh I'm back with another one! I love a good jealousy piece and frankly we're in a drought. part 2 comes out tomorrow

Jealousy was a beast of a thing, one that gnawed and thrashed mercilessly under the surface. You became all too familiar with its wrath in the past few months every time you interacted with him.  What started as meeting over mutual friends turned into solo hangouts, knowing glances, and a tender spot in your heart with his name etched into it. That warm languid honey that coursed your veins began to burn into a searing lava, lit ablaze by the uncertainty that seemed to never end.

To say you liked Dominic would be an understatement. To say he liked you back would be an educated guess. Everything you felt, you couldn’t put a name to. You’d like to think you had given him ample opportunity to stake a claim if your hypothesis was right, and he almost, almost did. One particularly warm night left you both with your faces inches away, and right when you felt him about to close the gap, he ran, muttering cowardly out the door about ‘shit he had to handle’ without so much as sparing you a glance.

What angered you most was not some notion that you were entitled to him, but the whiplash of it all, and how he yanked you around emotionally at his pace. After that night, you decided to get out of the car that was you two entirely, dialing it back to the cordialness he so clearly needed from you.

So here you were, at a party of a mutual friend. You were clad in an all black mini dress that clung to you, paired with black knee high boots. Your eyes scanned from the front door, taking a deep sigh as you tried your best to keep it all very cordial. 

You made your way through the house and the blaring music, relaxing your tense shoulders when you finally found your friends. The buzz of conversation between them is enough to pass the time but not nearly enough to distract you from the thought of him. You were almost sure he wouldn’t come tonight, too many engagements to name, but there was some sick part of you that hoped he would come solely for you to prove a point.

The next half-hour droned by, music humming through you, keeping you satiated enough to push down that part of you that desperately wanted to leave and wallow in your own self pity in your bed.  A shuffle of people near the front door entrance caught your eye, and you felt your feet freeze to the floor at the sight of him. A white t-shirt clung to him, black cargo pants and his scuffed boots following suit. Two men you faintly remember meeting at some point were by his side, yelling something in his ear before going off on their own path.

He soon saw you too, eyes flashing over with something you couldn’t quite place. You panicked like a deer in headlights when he began to make his way towards you, standing up and rushing past him, bumping his shoulder in the process. You didn’t look back to see his frame freeze in belief, looking towards your friends for a hail Mary, to no avail.

In the desolate kitchen, you were met with the company of seemingly endless bottles of liquor . You grabbed the first bottle you found, pouring a shot and taking solace in the way your shoulders slightly relaxed under the warmth. Your arms leaned out on the counter, as you leaned over your feet to catch some remnants of a breath. You were jolted out of your temporary solace, when a warm hand tapped your shoulder.

“Dom- oh. Sorry.” You swallowed down your words as you realized it was in fact not Dominic standing in front of you. It was a man named Caleb, someone you had met while working in LA. Short, strawberry blonde curls draped his features, notably his green eyes. While he was certainly cute to some degree, he wasn’t who you wanted, not tonight, and certainly not for the past few months. 

“You good? You look a bit out of it.” He says, the sweet genuine saccharin of his voice doing nothing to drown out your thoughts. You briefly looked past  him, catching sight of the mop of brown curls you were oh so familiar with faced away from you on a couch. 

“Um yeah. I’m fine.” You cleared your throat, turning to make yourself a drink to keep yourself occupied. “Just easing into the whole party thing.”

“I get it. Wanna come meet some friends of mine, they’ll make sure you let loose tonight.” He smiled, all of his teeth showing.

“Sure.” You threw him a tight lipped smile and it quickly dropped as he turned his back to you. Your arm hung limply as he lightly pulled you through the crowd with him, finding yourself back in the living room. Dom had made a home for himself, perched on the arm of the couch, surrounded by a small group, notably some groupie who was touching him at any given opportunity. She didn’t know how much he wasn’t a fan of being touched, aside from you for the most part. You threw him a glance, looking away just as quick to spare yourself as the boiling lava began to flood your veins. Your foot tapped absentmindedly as Caleb and his friends buzzed on endlessly about something you couldn’t care to listen to. 

You felt Dominic’s gaze on you occasionally, burning into your already heated skin like brands. Unbeknownst to you, that same beast of jealousy was ravaging beneath the surface of his calm and collected exterior. He was a man of stoicism, but as the minutes drilled on he began to question the limits of his resolve.  The brainless woman in front of him wasn’t enough to occupy him from the sight in front of him, you staring off into space with a man in front of you who could not be more obvious with how bad he wanted you, or your body rather. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do, ripping you away from the man and taking you right there in the middle of the room, he did the sensible thing, and walked away. 

You watched as he stood up from his place on the couch, letting out a deep sigh and walking to the kitchen without sparing his glance anywhere but straight ahead. You didn’t realize you were staring long past his exit until two snaps in front of your face brought you back to where you really were.

“Helloooo Y/N. Are you good? Did you hear what I was saying?” Caleb smiled dumbly at you. Oh, right. 

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry. Do you mind, I need to use the bathroom.” You turned on your heels, immediately leaving the conversation without waiting for their response. You stopped in your tracks, finding him in the kitchen. You waited in the doorway for a moment, before clearing your throat. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest from how sudden he turned his head to meet yours. He stood to his full height from leaning on the counter, a calm exterior but the undercurrent of something far more tumultuous bubbling in his irises.

“What’s your problem?” You ask, words coming out colder than you meant them to.

“What's my problem?” He chuckled humorously, shaking his head in disbelief. “Who is that guy?” His face hardened.

“Who’s she?” You retort, crossing your arms, toying with whatever game he thought he was playing. 

“No one. Why does it matter?” He scoffs.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You throw. He narrows his eyes at you before beginning to pace slightly in the small space, bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to formulate something. 

“Y/N I...I know we left off in a weird place. But c'mon. That guy is not your type.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“You don’t get to tell me what my type is. I didn’t even say I was with him. “ Your voice goes an octave higher in your frustration. “And you’re the reason we ended off weird, you ran like a scared child the moment it got serious. So don’t treat me like I’m cheating on you or something.” 

“But you know how I feel about you.” He stops his pacing.

“No Dominic, I don’t know how you feel about me.” You step closer to him, bringing you a few inches away from him in the small kitchen.

He stands there in disbelief, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he realizes he’s cornered. You both stand there in a stalemate, and you silently beg him with your gaze to not run, to not give up. 

“Can we not do this here? Can I give you a ride home, and we can..talk. Seriously this time.” His raspy voice is only slightly above a whisper. 

Your eyes dance between his own doe eyes, trying to hide that all your resolve had dissipated, melted into honey and warmed your limbs from his voice.

“Okay.” You whisper, looking away from his burning gaze, stepping aside to let him lead the way. 

-

Part 2 is out tomorrow! Stay tuned:)

[meetmymouth]

leave the door open...

The dishwasher makes a weird noise as Harry presses the button, and she lets out a sigh, wiping her hands on her joggers much to Harry's dismay. There's a few seconds where they just stare at each other, and he lets out a chuckle, turning behind so he can put the kettle on.

It'd only been six months.

Two months during him on tour that they'd been in a relationship, and four months post tour–and four weeks of living together in his London flat–. She knew him for a few years, having met in New York through mutual friends, including her short-term-girlfriend at the time, so living with him, or being with him hasn't been too different.

She loved it.

They both did, especially now that he was off tour.

They argued over silly things, like who would cook that night, or the temperature of the room, or how she forgets to unload the dishwasher– 'the light tells you when it's done, babe', 'well I don't come in the kitchen and look at the bloody dishwasher so excuse me for forgetting a couple of times, Harry'.

They've never been one of those couples who felt very shy around each other. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that they're both confident in their relationship, and the fact that they're very laid back.

After a night out with her girlfriends couple of weeks ago, she presents a new 'conflict' in their relationship: Farting.

She'd found him sitting in bed after coming in, glasses on as he typed away on his laptop. After a few kisses, cuddles, and a few more kisses, she looks up at him with determination in her eyes.

"What?"

"Why do you never fart around me?"

"What?" Harry had laughed. In fact, she had to wait for him to calm down for more than ten minutes.

Harry had continued, face confused but still chuckling. "Where is this coming from?"

"Michael farted after the third-month mark. So did Nick. And Jen."

"Baby, are you upset that I... don't fart?"

"I'm sure you do!" She'd waved her arms around. "But never around me, Harry. Are you embarassed? Are you not comfortable with me? What is it?"

"You're– baby," he'd held her hands to his chest. "I love you. I guess I just... don't really fart?"

"What?"

"I mean, I might've done it couple of times when we're asleep or rather... when you're asleep. I didn't– why have you never farted around me then, hm?"

And that was it.

They'd laugh about it, and it was over.

It was silly.

Now, though, Harry really enjoyed being 'nasty' around her.

He's such a boy when he farts in bed, under the covers, and threatens to lift up the covers since 'you wanted me to fart so bad'.

Another thing he's been doing lately is, leaving the door ajar when he's in the toilet.

Now, she wouldn't mind if he was just weeing.

Or doing something else– anything else other than... number two.

It's not that she minds it, it's... she's rather confused.

So, with the kettle on, she gets their favourite mugs out, and Harry excuses himself to go to the toilet.

She knows why, because she'd figured his toilet habits out by now.

Every night around this time, he would be in the toilet for about ten minutes.

He goes, not without kissing her on the lips, and she can't help but laugh when she doesn't hear the door shut properly.

Five minutes pass, and she looks at their empty mugs, wanting to pour the water when he's back.

She's about to call for him when he beats her to it.

"Baby?"

"Yeah?" She looks in the direction of the downstairs toilet, as if she would see him.

"I need toilet paper."

"Fuck sake, Harry–" she puts her phone down on the counter, and walks upstairs, and grabs a few before making her way downstairs.

She stops in front of the door.

"Helloooooo," Harry drawls. "I need to wipe my ass."

"Why do you leave the door open like that?" She thinks out loud.

Harry lets out a groan. "Baby give me the toilet paper."

"Ahh, bet it stinks in there, H."

"Come on."

She goes inside, and hands him one.

Can't help but laugh at the sight of him just sitting there, hair messy and forehead extra-shiny.

"Okay," she pauses.

"Okay... I'll wipe my ass now if you just... y'know?" Harry looks up at her.

She realises how vulnerable he is at the moment.

"I could easily punch your dick right now," she murmurs, leaning against the door, and it closes shut with a click.

"You're so– why would you even say that– baby I fucking need to wipe my ass, just leave."

"No, I think this," she lets out a laugh when she notices him opening the toilet paper. "This is a level up in our relationship! I've never been inside the toilet while you poo."

"Farting and now pooing, you're so fucking weird. Okay, I'll–"

They just stare at each other for a moment before Harry lets out a sigh.

"I don't know how to do– please don't look."

"You've never wiped your ass?"

"Babe, what the fuck, of course I have," Harry says, through gritted teeth. "Just never in front of an audience!"

"Why do you leave the door ajar, then, you twat!"

"It makes me feel less lonely when I can properly hear you do things around the flat, for fuck's sake, just–" he moves his hand. "Just don't look."

She laughs, feeling a bit sorry for him. "Okay, I'm sorry, wait– I'll leave. I'm really sorry, I now realise this is... weird," she laughs, and turns around, hand on the door handle.

"No– don't leave."

"What?"

"Ah, fuck, we're so disgusting as a couple," he laughs.

She leans against the door, but her eyes are focused on the tiles.

She waits until she hears the flush.

"I can't believe you wanted to watch me wipe my ass," Harry finds her gaze in the mirror.

"It's not– wow, that sounds so creepy, please don't ever say that. I didn't want to watch you–" she shudders visibly. "Please don't say that, wow."

"Creepy?" He laughs, wiping his hands before he turns to her, and grabs her cheeks, smushing them. "Disgusting more like."

"Okay, please don't kiss me– you just done a huge poo and it's very stuffy in here–"

"Oh, fuck off, get out!"

[tan1shere]

Motel Whore

Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: ahh you guys after awhile its finally hereeee. Sorry for the wait life's been hectic and I'm not doing the best right now :( going through a pretty difficult breakup that's quite honestly tearing me apart but I hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: You and Ellie started a fwb. But you want more. She doesn't see that nor notice how you've been acting. You're just her. Motel Whore. (Yes this is based off of the song Motel Whore by Nessa Barrett!)

Warnings: smut, angst, just sadness. Ellies a bit of an ass. Jealousy, slightly rapey Ellie if ya squint. We won't pay attention to that cuz we all know she's a sweetheart and wouldn't do that. Suggestive language. Like always MDNI

Masterlist

Pt 2!

It was just one night. Turning into two. Turning into a week. Months. Almost a year and you still don't know how you're here. Doing this with your friend Ellie. You always thought it'd be easy, the whole friend's with benefits thing, just a simple fuck then leave. You had no feelings for eachother. Wrong. It was the complete opposite. You started getting more attached as the weeks went by. But you had agreed to her request. 'No feelings involved' and 'this isn't a forever thing' you and Ellie were both single.

And you had agreed that it was a good idea to do this until you could fill that void. On the first night you two had slept together you had told her you were sick of being lonely and having to get off by yourself. You said it mindlessly just ranting to a friend. Until she came up with the idea. You were getting in too deep and you had no idea what to do about it.

You were currently at your friends, Dinas. To be exact. A mutual friend of you and Ellie. She had no idea about your secret life with her, no one did for that matter. It was hush hush. That was another agreement that you both made at the start. But secretly. You wanted the whole world to know. Why? You honestly couldn't even answer that. Because, you had no clue yourself.

"Hello, earth to Y/n. I'm talking to you babe." She blurts out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Oh yeah, sorry." You mumble. "What's up, you seem off." You shake your head. "Nothing, I'm fine." You give her a reassuring smile. But knowing how Dina was she didn't buy it one bit. She was going to pry, but knowing you'd tell her eventually she let's it go.

"Right well, I asked if you wanted to go out for dinner on Saturday." You look straight at her. Fuck, you were suppose to be meeting Ellie. You always did on a Saturday. Or whenever one of you needed a good fuck. "Uhmm, can we make it Friday?" You try to negotiate. She furrows her brows. "I'm going out with Jesse on Friday, he has a date planned." You flop on the bed. "You guys are so cute." She laughs at the pout on your lips. "You'll find it. Trust me. It may even be close you never know." You scoff. "Doubt it." She then thinks for a moment. "Sunday could work?" You smile at her. "Sounds like a plan."

It was now Saturday you were just driving to the motel of this time. Ellie would always text you the address of some crappy motel. It was never the same one, but if it was it would've been months since you went. Where you lived there was a shit ton of em around. So you rarely ever had to visit them twice. You get out of your car and go up to the number she texted you. "Room 147." You speak, going to knock on it, guessing she's already there.

She opens it welcoming you in. You follow, immediately being kissed by her, she was desperate, and honestly so were you. You always can't wait to see her on your planned days, even when they aren't you can't wait to be by her. "God I missed you." You let out a giggle. "It was only 2 days ago since we last did this Ellie." You smile at her as she takes her hoodie off. "Yeah. 2 days too long." She continues to kiss you. Making you let out a soft sigh into her mouth. "I want to ruin you angel." She'd always call you that during these moments.

You were quite different from most of your friends, you would dress with whites, baby pinks, golds, just any baby color really. You weren't super girly and childish but you had this aura about you that was ethereal. Honestly angelic. Ellie fed on that. She was the complete opposite. She loved fucking you senseless, ripping you apart so to speak. She adored how soft you were. Although you weren't completely innocent. This was the most you've done with any body. You always would do stuff to yourself. But what Ellie didn't know. Was she was your first.

"Ruin me Els.. please." You needed it. You craved it. And she loved that. She loved having you completely under her control. She moves her incredibly soft lips against your neck, putting your hands in her hair gently tugging at her locks, making her groan against your skin. She leads you to the bed getting ontop of you, starting to move down your now naked body. You were panting, it was getting hotter in the room. Both of your bodies radiating heat, making both of you going mental for one another. "Gunna dick you down sweetheart." And she did, just that.

It was now after and like always she was getting dressed immediately. You were always left sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself. "I've been meeting up with some other girls that I've met recently for a quick fuck and I'm meeting one of them right now." She states as she puts her jeans back on. You felt something brew in your stomach. Was it jealousy, disgust? "Oh, I see, well have fun." She grabs her keys. "If you can't be bothered going home, I booked this room out for the night so you can just stay here if you'd like." You look at the bed sheets contemplating your whole life right now. "Right." She then leaves not uttering another word.

Room 147.

Just for the night.

Said I was heaven.

That's without saying goodbye.

It was now a Wednesday. You had been in your apartment just tidying up a bit you could not stop the thought of Ellie. It was intoxicating. And you couldn't quite tell if that was a bad or good thing. You tried to take your mind off of it, but this was all slowly getting to you. You knew what you signed up for. But at the same time it's like she's doing it on purpose. You needed your brain to just shut up for a quick second. Then you got a stupid. Stupid idea. Thinking itd help.

You shook your head. It shouldn't hurt the way it does. You're not even dating her. But oh how it did. The image of her tattooed hand rubbing up some other girls thigh. It made you want to physically puke. But you needed to stop that feeling. You were both single. You had no rule over her. Which meant neither did she. Maybe you should go out more find someone else. You just shake your head again, waiting to see how later pans out.

Later came round slow. You'd been feeling off all day. You don't know why this would make you feel better because honestly you always felt like shit afterwards. You felt used. Even if you wanted this it just felt worthless, were you wasting your time? Should you just call it quits before it's too late. What if it is too late. You were already at the said motel, sitting on the bed waiting. She then comes through the door, looking like she's in a rush. You furrow your brows at her. "Sorry stayed a bit longer." You just nod. Knowing it was one of the girls she's been doing it with alongside you. "You alright love?" She asks as she takes off her jeans. It felt wrong. This all felt so wrong.

You lie. "Yeah I'm good. Just really bored Els. Needed you." What are you doing. Why hurt yourself like this. She smirks, getting on the bed with you. "Yeah baby? How badly hm." She leans closer to your face inches away. Leaning down to kiss you, you relish in it. She begins taking your clothes off, leaving you in your specifically picked out lingerie. It was red, with lace, and silk. You'd hope that maybe this will get her to notice you as something more. See you in something as special. But oh boy were you. Wrong. Making you feel even more stupid as she takes it off, no comment, no nothing. You felt cold. And not because of the fact you were naked. You felt icy, inside and out. You felt that pukey feeling again.

And just like everytime you two fuck, she was up and about to leave again. "So uhm where are you going?" You ask, knowing the answer but still asking regardless. "One of the other girls." You nod. "Do any of them know about me?" She looks up at you, your figure still on the bed. "No. No one knows about this. And that's what we agreed on right?" You nod, looking at her. "Have fun." Your response was cold. Cold like your body.

Am I just a secret.

You love to hide.

Turn off your location when, you come over late at night.

You were currently out with Dina, doing your usual girly shopping, trying on all sorts of clothes and shoes. "Hey what do you think of these pumps?" She asks. You nod. "Suit you." You say bluntly. You don't particularly like the mood you've acquired over the last few months, but you had yourself to blame for that one. "Ok what is up your ass girl. And you are telling me this time." You sigh. "Nothing Dee I'm just not in a good place right now." You softens her look. "Please just talk to me. I'm worried about you babe." You hated that, you never ever wanted to worry. Or upset anyone, at all. "Promise to talk to you in future." You give her a smile. "You better." She winks at you.

"Right anyways, positive vibes. I saw this cute skirt that was definitely you. Wanna go try it on?" You nod smiling genuinely this time. You continued to do this, going around the stores when you got a text.

You absolutely hated yourself for getting into it. You should've stopped sooner but you just can't. And you still don't know why. You couldn't keep treating yourself like this it's time this ends.

You arrive at the motel that she mentioned. Knocking on the door, quickly getting tugged in. She's immediately kissing you, your lips, your neck. She slides her thumb over your bottom lip. You let out a breath. "Ellie-"

"Shhh. I need to fuck the shit out of you angel. Need it." You just nod, giving consent but not fully in the mood for this. You're so stupid. What is wrong with you, you're so blinded. She takes your clothes off, getting you to lay on the bed, but she thinks for a moment. "Uh uh, ass up." You look right at her. "Bu-" She flips you over, going to grope your ass, your face hiding in the pillow. She attached her strap, without any thought pushing into you rough. And hard. You let out a slight gasp.

"Fuck. I needed this." She mumbles, watching as it goes in and out of you. "Using you as I please." And for the first time in all of this mess, you felt tears, hot well needed tears. You're so thankful she couldn't see your face. But it truly hurt. Usually those words wouldn't get to you. But it's how you've been feeling. Used. Abused. In a mental way. It was hurting. Every little bit of it hurt. This feeling wasn't at all good, you just wanted it to be over. So. You faked your orgasm. And like always it ended with her leaving and not uttering a word. You were still faced down in the pillows pretending you were sleeping. Although you don't think it made much difference. You just couldn't look at her. Not with your makeup stained face. From the tears.

Check in check out.

One night stay, you're out the door.

You treat me, like a motel whore.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 783: Advancing ranks

Pag 1

1: “Friends”....

2: “People who trust each other and treat each other as equal”

“People who hang out and chat together”

4: Funatsu-kuun

Huh!? Me... me!? What

You and Kiriya-kun are friends?

5: Ye-yeah, we've been together for three years, so of course

And last year and this year we worked hard together and participated in the Inter High....right?

Yeah

And what about me?

Huh!?

Pag 2

1: What about me?

2: Are we friends!?

3: Uhm, well

4: We also were together for three years with this guy and we practiced and participated in the Inter High together

Uh.... well

What shoud I say? How should I answer this question

But this guy doesn't talk about anything but bikes

5: There they are, Midosuji's “cryptic questions”!!

Thank god this time his target is Funatsu

6: What's the correct answer!!

Ahh, dammit... I'm suddenly shaking

Midosuji!!

7: I'm sorry, Funatsu!! Do your best!! Funatsu!!

Pag 3

1: Of course!!

We've been running together for three years!! You're a great friend!!

How about this!!

3: Fr... iends...

Me and.... you?

6: He's satisfied!? Yes!! It was the correct answer!?

Pag 4

1: What, did you misunderstand?

Me and you are not equal in the slightest!?

Pag 5

1: Our efforts, tenacity, our attitude and readiness, and even our imagination!!

Uwaaahiiii!!

2: Didn't you think about it?

Ah.. was there even a moment when you felt like we were equal!? Surely

Dammit so this is what it was!!

3: You that in your zeal for goodness became nothing?

Puku

4: What's this!? This time

Ahh, dammit, don't spout nonsense!!

This time even my parents came to see me

5: Midosuji-san

More importantly

Pag 6

1: The course is changing

Turning west along the flat seaside road

Pag 7

1: it's entering a hill

4: The Kyoto Pass

It's a hill with a 3.5km climb with an incline of 4%, about 250m above sea level

Pag 8

1: According to my plan....!! Alright....!!

Let's move on....!!

2: Heading for the next phase!!

Yeah!!

Yes!!

Yes!!

4: Kyoto Fushimi are assembling and moving up

5: They didn't move in the first half, Kyofushi is saving their legs

Yet on this short climb they're spontaneously moving up their group's position

Pag 9

1: They're moving up!!

3: Seeing him this up close, this Midosuji really is amazing

His body's thickness is completely different from other people's, and his limbs are so long!!

4: He has such an aura that it makes me feel like there's no way I could win!!

5: I broke out into a cold sweat but at the same time I can't help but laugh a little!!

Pag 10

1: They really are amazing, Onoda, Imaizumi... and Naruko, they fought against him last year and the year before!?

3: Sugimoto-san

Sugimoto-san

4: Ah, sorry, is everything alright?

I was just thinking a little about something, just a little

5: That's right, I'm in the “selected team”!! I need to focus more on bringing these guys together!!

Pag 11

2: Huh

3: The two sprinters who went ahead

4: have turned back!!

We're back... we're back!!

5: Sugimoto-san!!

Yeah!! Kobayashi!! Uchikawa!!

Pag 12

1: We somehow managed to catch up to the lead

Is that so!!

But the remaining 3km... too fast!!

I see!!

2: That guy from Hiroshima let us know a lot of things

I see!!

They're so sweaty and their jerseys are all torn out too

3: They worked hard, I'm glad...!!

4: I couldn't last until the very end, but Kobayashi-san was there too

There were four people in front of me so I pushed as hard as I could in fifth place

5: And I placed ninth

Oh you're in the top ten, amazing, amazing!

Waaa, Sugimoto-san praised me, I'm so happy

Pag 13

1: Hahaha

Ah, that's my line....

I'm feeling so proud, somehow

2: Ninth place is amazing

Well... Ichikawa pulled me

Was the lead amazing?

It was!!

3: I'm aiming for the top ten for the mountain line too!!

Really? Do your best!

5: We're an impromptu team and we still have a long way to go in terms of skill, but with our mutual interest and cheerfulness

Pag 14

1: Maybe we could go far!!

3: It's all thanks to Sugimoto-san

No no, I only asked Doubashi

Doubashi-san also helped us a lot!!

4: That's right, next time we meet him

Pag 15

1: I'll have to thank Doubashi

3: Dammit!!

Sorry, it's my fault!!

4: With opponents like that, if I had gone myself we would have placed even lower

This just shows how hard it is to carry out your words in road racing

Pag 16

1: As I told you, you needed to be careful about that guy

3: The race goes went a low pass and passe through a tunnel

Pag 17

1: They went downhill in a line

2: Waa... this is the place for “three seconds”...!!

Kiji-saan!! Fou!!

3: Looking at the limestone quarry that is the raw material for cement

4: the passed through the coal mining factory that supported the growth of Kitakyushu

Pag 18

1: The ranks went south along the riverside in the inland areas of Kyushu

2: Ah....

Oi, Issa, how long....

3: How long are you gonna feel down!?

Pag 19

1: Naruko-san

2: Stop with the depressing sighs

You'll just have to use your frustration as a springboard to keep moving!!

3: Naruko-san, you don't know what it feels like to lose a sprint!!

5: I've matured, I've matured, I've matured.... or I should have

Naruko chanting magic words to suppress his anger

Two people who feel so sorry for him they have no words

6: What's wrong? You're shivering and peeing your pants?

I wanna kill him...!!

7: Hotshot, gimme permission to kill him!!

I don't have that license

8: Ah!!

I see it!!

Pag 20

1: It's the mountain!!

The first day's..... this Inter High's very first....

2: mountain!!