#by the name of god? its insanely horrible but i like it

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch7. if u wanna get groceries

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. 7/x

ᰔ words. 10.3k

a/n. hiii my ihm darlings!! i don't have much to say in this beginning author's note haha but i have some author's notes at the end if you want to read them. but anywho hope you enjoy this chapterrr :)

nav. masterlist

Ovulation is a very scary thing.

You can imagine many great women have had their lives greatly affected by this phenomenon. 

This biological release of an egg into the fallopian tubes, simply desiring to be fertilized.

Women who have had their hearts set on their dreams, aspirations, full speed ahead towards the finish line on the other end,

Only to be dragged back by–

You shudder to even mention.

Attraction to a man. 

So horrible.

So insane.

So humiliating.

And yet so–...

So natural.

Unfortunately.

You’re pretty sure Sabrina Carpenter has a song about it.

This is what you think of as you lean over the kitchen island, perched up on your elbows as you eat a peach, staring straight ahead at a certain fake husband who is seated on the couch. 

He’s looking at the TV, watching some SNL skit he didn’t get to finish last weekend, tilting his head side to side with his grey sweatpant clad legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’s got a can of Celsius he’s swirling around with a loose grip, his elbow up on the cushion for a more lax resting state (which unfortunately also flexes his bicep very sexily from the positioning), and he doesn’t really seem particularly amused by what he was watching. And for some reason, it was hot.

You tilt your head to the right, watching him like a predator from across the hall, chewing down on a particularly juicy piece of peach that bursts its juice in your mouth, and you curse the fact that all you can think about right now is sex.

Sex.

When was the last time you had sex?

You postulated a little over a month ago when you and Choso were still together.

Granted, you’ve been too busy and overwhelmed and overstimulated with all the recent happenings of late to provide your own self with any sort of relief.

And God, it was showing.

Showing in the way that, no matter what, you can’t seem to shake the idea of wanting to sit in Gojo’s lap and be the second reason he never gets to finish watching that SNL skit. 

Maybe it will help.

Maybe sitting in a man’s lap right now would heal you.

You set the now naked seed of peach down on the counter before straightening yourself up and walking around the kitchen island towards the living room. Gojo’s eyes don’t flicker to you until you’re well in his periphery, and when he looks up at you, he straightens himself up on the couch with curious wide eyes and drags his feet off the coffee table to plant his feet on the rug.

You pull your grandma nightgown up to your knees so that you can sit in his lap, surprise evident on his face as he watches your every movement before you’re comfortably seated on him with your hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck me,” you tell him.

“Wh–” he stutters, “I’m sorry, I could’ve sworn you just told me to fuck you.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” The heels of your hands press into his chest further to the point where it has to hurt. 

“Is this a prank,” he asks as his hands fall to hold your hips on reflex.

You sigh, shifting around on his thighs. “Can you just do it already before I change my mind?”

“Wow. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ve changed my mind.”

You push off of his shoulders and stand up on one leg, ready to get up and away from him to find some other way to satisfy your desperate desire for a penis, but he reaches out to grab your wrist.

“Heyyy wait wait wait,” he says, pulling you back into a seat on his lap. “Why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?”

You exhale slowly, twiddling with your thumbs as you look at him. “You said it yourself the other day,” you say, “good way to relieve stress.”

“And you’re not gonna kill me afterwards?”

“Umm no promises?”

“Look, as much as I’d like to take you up on the offer, a part of me thinks you’re making a…rash decision here.”

“Oh my fucking god who cares if I am?? Maybe I just wanna fuck for the sake of fucking?? What’s the big fucking deal??”

“The big deal is that, knowing you, you’re not going to speak to me or look me in the eye for three weeks if I let you go through with something you’re not a hundred percent on.”

Your shoulders sulk a little. You thought this would be an easy yes, where he tears your nightgown off and then ravishes you whole on this couch with every primal caveman instinct that’s encoded in his XY chromosome DNA. This was supposed to be spontaneous and sexy…not a candid conversation.

The thought flashes through your head that maybe he thinks that you’re just trying to use him.

“I want to have sex with you,” you clarify. And then a pause. “I think.” You pause for a moment again. “I’m, like, pretty sure.”

He slides you back to where you’re sitting closer to his knees than to his groin, and then fully leans back onto the couch before tucking his hands behind his head like he was physically putting himself in cuffs to prevent himself from touching you any further. “Tell you what. Let’s circle back in an hour, and if you still want to, then sure.”

“I cannot believe how diplomatic you’re being about this.”

“Well isn’t this whole thing between us a diplomatic agreement? That’s what you said to me when we got fake engaged.”

“That–” you blink at him, not expecting those words to eventually be used against you, “...whatever.”

“Also, what happened to the no sex rule?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grins and leans forward, both of his elbows settling onto the top of the cushion behind him, and you’re proud of yourself for only staring at his biceps for 0.000034 seconds before meeting his line of sight again. 

“Are those rules just suggestions?” he asks with a stupidly teasing look on his face. 

You purse your lips together, skin feeling warm suddenly as you try to push him away by a palm to his sternum. But then you realized something. A fundamental rule of biology. The woman never chases. 

You smile at him, cheeky in a deceptive way that’s meant to scare him, and it does seem to alarm him when you push him back onto the couch rather forcefully. His hands fall to hold your hips again as he looks at you with round eyes, and you scoot forward on his lap, to where you’re almost sitting right above his groin. 

“Hey–” he says, like a warning. 

Like some awful romantic comedy, you’re drawing the tip of your nail down the front of his chest seductively, leaning forward so he catches the faint scent of the perfume you spritzed onto your skin in the morning, and you can tell it’s working from the way he tips his chin up in interest. You innocently “shift” in his lap to get comfortable, and see his throat bob when he swallows hard from the feeling. The finger that’s been running down the soft linen of his shirt trails up until it runs through the hair at the back of his neck, and he’s pulling you closer to him now by a rough grip on your hips. His breathing picks up, eyes somehow wild yet calm as he looks at you with a set jaw, and you try your best to maintain a sultry expression as you tilt your head down at him while strongly fisting at the longer strands of his hair that fall short at the nape of his neck. He shifts underneath you, sinking further into the couch, his breathing fast enough to where you can see the rise and fall of his chest, his gaze finally dropping to your lips as he parts his own, and he briefly runs his tongue over his bottom lip before–

Before the doorbell rings. 

You both blink at each other.

You don’t even realize how close you two were to making out until you realize you can’t even see the tip of his nose anymore. 

“My, uh,” he starts, voice sounding gruff so he has to clear his throat, “my wood just came.”

“Y–” you glance down at his lap, “your wood just what?!”

He leans away from you, sinking his back into the cushion and pointing over his shoulder with a thumb towards the door. “The cedar planks I ordered to finish my woodworking project. Pretty sure they just got dropped off.”

You blink at him, releasing the grip you still had on the hair at the back of his head, your arms moving to weakly rest on his shoulders instead. “Oh.”

“I’ve gotta go sign the delivery.

“Okay.”

“Sometime today, preferably.”

“Alright.”

“Can…can I head to the door? Is that allowed?”

“...I suppose.”

His fingers that were still resting under your butt in a strong grip push up gently on the flesh to prod you off of him, and you (reluctantly) swing your legs off of his lap then slump down onto the couch indignantly beside him, twiddling with your thumbs as you watch him get up off the cushions with a small grunt from the push of his palms on his knees. And then he heads to the door.

Continuing to assess your cuticles with the tuck of your chin towards your collarbone, you hear Gojo talk to whoever was at the door. Another masculine voice. Sounds younger, probably younger than you. Delivery boy. Gojo makes easy conversation with him, some buddy-buddy diction that’s entirely lost on you, and you hear the other man laugh. And the fact that you feel equally as possessed to want to fuck the delivery man makes you realize you need to put yourself in a cage the next time you feel like this.

You hear the door close along with the metallic click of the lock, and you peak your head up over the top of the couch to look at Gojo, who is leaning a giant cardboard box that looks really heavy against the wall. He then exhales, dusting his hands off and he’s stretching his neck from side to side again.

He glances over his shoulder to find you still looking at him.

“You woodwork?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Is that the noisy thing you do at six in the morning while I’m trying to sleep after a night shift?!?!”

“It’s not that noisy,” he says, leaning back onto the wall and crossing his arms. Then he grins. “Want to see what I’m working on?”

“No.”

“Oh come on.” He jerks his head towards the kitchen leading out to the screen door of the backyard. And then he’s shuffling his feet off into that direction. “Humor me for once.”

You slide off the couch onto the floor, grumbling something to yourself before you stand up onto your feet and shuffle your feet across the hardwood floor to follow him, the hem of your nightgown sliding across the surface.

Gojo pulls the screen door back and you step out into the pleasant afternoon. It’s sunny, with crisp air that settles on your senses, the casted shadows of clouds that slowly pass over the grass reminding you of your childhood, or perhaps of simpler times.

You step into the flip flops you see near the shoe mat, and they are nearly twice the size of your feet. Gojo opts for the dustier pair located behind the grill and then he walks across the grass of his backyard towards the shed tucked away near the side of the house. You’ve always been able to briefly see this shed from one of the windows in your house, but you could never see what went on inside. 

He unclasps the metal lock on the wooden door of the shed and pulls it open with a creak. You peer inside, the smell of wood shavings and some other rather comforting chemicals hitting you almost instantly. You also sneeze. And then sneeze again.

“Bless you,” he says, and when you glance at him, he’s smiling at you before he takes a step inside. You cross your arms and rub your elbows, feeling feeble in your ditsy nightgown as you step into a space that looks far too industrial for you. 

“See?” Gojo says once you’re fully inside the shed with him, drawing your gaze from the dusty ceilings towards the covered structure in the center of the workspace. He pulls the blue tarp back, revealing something square-looking. “It’s a coffee table.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you tilt your head to assess it. “Oh. It’s–...it’s actually quite nice.”

“Yeah.” He knocks on the surface with his knuckles. “It’s pretty sturdy. I’ve been looking to replace what I’ve got in the house for a while now. And–” he straightens himself up again, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “That wood I just got delivered is black walnut. Stunning stuff. I’m going to use it to finish the corners and the cabinets.”

“Ahhh,” you say, expressing interest. I mean, you were intrigued by his many strange hobbies. How can you explain this…you suppose after many years of working, sleeping, eating, and taking care of your mom, it's somewhat pleasantly disorienting to find yourself in the middle of a normal person’s life. Someone who has time to woodwork in his free time. Endearing. It was kind of endearing. 

“I’ve gotta flip it over though,” he says with a sigh, “I fucked up and forgot to build the base first.”

You lean back on one of the cabinets behind you that was level with your hip, and you watch Gojo for a moment as he bends down to assess all angles of the table before he grips the underside of it with his hands, the strength of his grip evident in the strain of the veins running up his arms and disappearing into the short sleeve cotton of his shirt. 

But he glances up at you before moving it. “Can you stand over there?”

“Huh?” You blink at him.

“Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize you were standing in quite literally the exact zone of potential danger. You make a mental note to work on your survival instincts. 

You lean off of the cabinet and step off to the side. 

You watch as he begins to lift up on the table, his biceps flexing with the movement, oh and that grunt that leaves his lips once he’s got it at the angle he wants hits you somewhere you wish it didn’t. The sight of him leaning over, letting out a slow exhale as he slowly sets the table down on its side over the cushioning mat had you in a trance. 

Once he’s satisfied with wherever it’s at, he steps away from it and dusts his hands off. “Alright.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Got an hour to work on this.”

You nod at him.

He glances over at you. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

“Did–...did you wanna watch?”

“Nope,” you say, shuffling your slippers to the other side of the door. Because you fear that catching the sight of him all sweaty and disheveled from woodworking would get you into serious trouble today. At least you know when to call it quits.

In the hour that Gojo spends doing god knows what sort of manly sorcery in that shed, you get dressed into something that wasn’t a cozy nightgown much to your dismay, and head over to your house next door. You figure you could use this time to clean up the place a little so that you can take pictures for the house on Zillow. 

When you step inside the house, the nauseating smell of medication hits you. It’s a smell that you can only know if you’ve lived with it for years. Something artificial, something that smells–...well, sick. It’s a scent you associate with sickness. It hits you randomly sometimes with the patients that you treat at the hospital. Patients that smell just like your mom does. Something akin to a pill closet. You’ve always cursed the human tendency to assort semantics to certain senses, because then it only takes away all the healing you thought you had gotten through.

You walk down the hall towards your mother’s bedroom. You figured you’d start here first, since it would be the most difficult to clean for you. Her bed is set up neatly, exactly as you left it before she left for hospice three weeks ago. 

Her well-worn rocking chair sits near the window with the old knit blanket she made over twenty years ago draped over it. It faces the window instead of the inside of the house, which was a habit she always had throughout her life. Maybe as an art teacher, she always felt that whatever was outside was more intriguing than within. 

You run a hand by the sturdy wooden dresser covered in dust and scattered medications, along with all of your mother’s draped headscarves. She liked to change them every day, the pattern of each of them aggressively absurd and somewhat hypnotizing, but it fits for her age–that sort of clothing. Your mother used to have beautiful hair. It was something all her friends had always been jealous of. She made the decision to shave it all off rather than watch as it slowly detangled from her hair from chemo, and she claims to have stashed it away somewhere, but you know that she likely donated it instead.

When you make it to her desk, you see paint splattered over it with a rusted easel holding up a blank canvas. But there were swipes of paint across the palette, as though she were trying to find the perfect blend of colors, but failed before she could put brush to canvas. Beside her little art setup, you see a little sticky note with scribblings on it.

Morning tea

Medications- Gabapentin 600 300

Today is Thursday. Oct 16th

800 432 5555 call Dr Johnson 

Turn off the stove

At the very bottom:

- daughter. Nurse. She loves you

You suck a deep breath in, releasing it slowly.

This was an impossible task.

To stuff all of this away into boxes. 

All of this life.

You slowly peel the sticky note off the desk, folding it neatly before placing it into your pocket. Then you start with the canvas, the easel, the paint. Exactly as is, without cleaning anything at all, you stache them away into boxes. You wanted to preserve what you could, even if it was all for show.

By the time you finish cleaning out her desk, you feel winded from emotions. You decide to take a break and try to clean whatever was upstairs instead. Before you leave the room, you see another sticky note written behind the door.

remember ! wear your sweater, it’s cold today

And that’s when you start crying. 

.

.

.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

”Hey,” you say as you walk back into Gojo’s house in the early afternoon, holding up a digital camera that you found in the attic in your hand. “The upstairs of my house is cleaned out now, and I’m almost done with the downstairs part…just waiting on finishing one room. Can we start taking photos to put the listing up online?”

Gojo glances up at you from where he’s stood in the kitchen, tugging at his sleeves, and you just now notice he’s dressed up in a dark navy suit with a white shirt underneath. No tie. “Uhh yeah I can help you with it, I’ve just gotta go run a few errands and then we can do it when I get back?” He ruffles his hair a bit and you see that it’s slightly damp like he just took a shower.

“What errands?”

“Gas, amazon return, Costco. Maybe get a donut if I’m feeling like being a bad boy.”

“Ew. Also, why don’t you get gas at Costco?”

“It’s a little cheaper at Sam’s Club.”

You gasp. “You have a Sam’s Club membership??”

“Yes.”

“You’re a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes as he pushes his shoulders back to get better settled into his suit jacket. “I have a Costco membership too.” 

“Can I come?”

“What? For–...for the errands?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at you from the other side of the island, brow furrowing slightly. “Uh. Sure?”

You know it sounds silly to say, but not having to take care of someone twenty-four-seven has left you with little to no sense of purpose, and an even more intense feeling of loneliness. And as much as Gojo gets on your nerves from time to time, you’ve noticed that you’ve been…craving his presence lately. Or maybe a presence might be more accurate than any one specific person, but you can comfortably admit it to yourself that you’re a somewhat codependent person that enjoys being largely implemented into someone’s life. You’ve even started borderline nesting in his home. You bought two new fluffy throw blankets for his couch, set up a bowl of fruits at the center of the kitchen island, and stocked up on laundry detergent, even though he already had two backup boxes. It was driving you crazy. This feeling of having too much free time and personal space than what you knew what to do with.

And it had been a while since you went to Costco. The holy land for all adults. 

“Can I get this? Ohhhh what about this? Can we get this too? Wait. Wait. Brown sugar boba mochi?!” You hold the packet up into the air as if it were baby Simba in the Lion King, and then you turn to Gojo, clutching the bag to your chest. “Please?”

He exhales, leaning over the handle of the shopping cart and levels his gaze with you. “...no.”

You sulk your shoulders and sigh as you put it back.

He begins to push the cart down the aisle again. “You do realize that you have disposable income too, right?”

You trail after him. “No. I don’t. I’m in six figures of debt.”

He nods. “Fair.” And then he grabs a stray bag of brown sugar boba abandoned on top of the instant rice boxes then places it into the cart. 

You watch as Gojo makes his rounds around Costco, very diligently aligning all the items in his shopping cart and assessing the quality of each thing he crosses off his list before deeming it worthy of purchase. Much different than your usual Costco run, which involves a lot of chaos and sweat. And he feels very husband material like this. Breaking no sweat to put the garden fertilizer in the cart shelf meanwhile you would’ve pulled your back out trying to do the same if you were on your own.

As you two make your way through the store, you get stopped by the post-office man, and then the local judge, and then the elderly couple that runs the church's weekly Bingo nights. All greeting you politely with a quick exchange of words and usually a sweet regard for your mother’s health before passing on by. You keep having to introduce Gojo as your husband, and many of them already know who he is, despite the fact that he’s only lived here for a year, which royally pisses you off to great extents, but he’s a social whore so it makes sense. And then all of them coo sweet things like wow, what a beautiful couple and you’re so lucky to have each other and my oh my he’s very handsome and at this point you would pay someone twenty bucks to say something like well she’s a looker! good for you! to Gojo because you’re sick of him always getting the ego boosts. When asked where you guys went for your honeymoon, you both say “Greece–” “Maldives–” at the same time in typical unrehearsed fashion. One of the town locals even asks when the two of you are going to have a baby, and you almost snort your free sample of San Pellegrino out your nose.

Perhaps the only thing that keeps a little pep in your step is the fact that everyone greets you first before they catch the familiar sight of Gojo too. It’s a small thing to celebrate, but when you’ve lived in the same town your whole life, it becomes somewhat of a prideful and wholesome thing when the town librarian, local mechanic, and farmer’s market lady all stop you in your lovely little Costco stroll. It was all in a day’s work.

“Jeez, you’re hella famous, y/n,” Gojo says as he continues to push the cart down the aisle after you just got done catching up with the volunteer Fire Chief.

You toss your hair over your shoulder at him. “Yes. I am somewhat of a princess in this town.”

“Does that make me your prince?”

“No. You’re my filthy peasant.”

“Alright…I like where this is going…”

“Get your nasty degradation kink away from me, you perv. This is Costco. It’s the holy house of God.”

Once you two make it to the wine section, you stare at bottles of dessert wines and hear Gojo talking on the phone off to the side.

“Hey, Sana. I’m at Costco right now. Do you guys need anything? I already got Juno’s muffins,” he says into his phone as he places two containers of blueberry muffins into the cart. You eye the raspberry cream cheese strudels. “Huh? Cornstarch?....If I tried to look for cornstarch at Costco, I’d be here for three hours.”

“Satoru,” you say to him once he gets off the call, tugging at his sleeve, “could we get those Haagen Daz ice cream bars? They’re so good.”

“No,” he says, pushing the cart down the chip aisle before he grabs a bag of tortilla chips. “We can’t get anything that needs to be frozen or refrigerated. I’ve gotta go prep a house that’s in the area since we’re out this far. I’ve got an evening showing.”

“What?!” you exasperate, “I thought we were just going home after this!”

“I never said that.”

“I can’t believe this. I had been dreaming of grabbing those ice cream bars since you mentioned the word Costco back at home. You could’ve brought your little cooler thing that you keep in the garage.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted to come with me,” he says. “My original grocery list had seven non-perishable items on it.” You both glance at the cart, which was almost entirely full of things that you put in there. Things that nobody ever needs. Like a bladeless desk fan and an electric wine opener.

“Ah,” you say.

He smiles, leaning over the cart handle again and pushing it forward again away from the chilly air of the cooler section. “Retail therapy?”

You pout a little. “I haven’t had the chance in years.” You glance at the cart as he pushes it. “I should probably take it all out now.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll get you your bladeless fan. And whatever the fuck those other things are.”

You stop walking, blinking blankly at his back as he continues to wordlessly push the cart forward. There’s about a five second delay before you finally start trailing after him.

By the time Gojo finishes loading everything into the trunk of his car as you merely stand by for emotional support, and then he comes back from the long trek of returning the cart, you’re absolutely winded. You’re not sure why, because again, you haven’t really done much all day. But God damn, you forgot how exhausting it is to be a regular functioning member of society that contributes to the economy on the weekends (you didn’t pay for anything).

Gojo wordlessly takes off from the Costco parking lot and just when you think he’s going to get back onto the freeway to get to this house of his that he needs to prep, he jumps into the parking lot of a small shopping area before he parks his car in front of a smaller grocery store. 

You give him a puzzled look.

“Hold on,” he says before clicking his seatbelt off, “gotta go get that cornstarch.”

“Wait—” you say, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve of his suit jacket as the most intense sensation of FOMO you’ve ever felt in your life overtakes all of your senses. “I’ll come with.”

He quirks a brow at you. You’re not surprised at his confusion. After all, you’ve been acting like some drug addict in withdrawal of social proximity to him all day long. But you’re at least glad he doesn’t express any further bewilderment and allows you to follow him inside the store like a duckling.

As Gojo veers off in the direction of likely corn starchiness, in a confident manner that would suggest he’s been to this store many times before, you meander about the aisles at your leisure. You get lost in the bustling colors of produce stacked neatly on top of one another, such that they could rival the great pyramids of Egypt. Not to mention, processed foods lining the wall right next to it. This was what suburban life is all about. Matter of fact, this is what dreams are made of. 

“y/n?”

Oh, fuck. That voice is definitely not what dreams are made of.

The opposite, actually.

Nightmares.

You hear that voice in your nightmares.

You turn on your heel to find none other than your ex boyfriend, he who shall not be named (Choso Kamo), standing right behind you as he holds a grapefruit in his hand, blinking at you dumbly with surprise apparent on his face. 

“Wh—” you briefly stutter before the automatic scowl settles onto your face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m buying fruit.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? To eat, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I’m not convinced you wouldn’t try to fuck that grapefruit. Given you have low standards for what you stick your dick inside of.”

“Uh?…I’ve stuck my dick inside of you plenty of t—”

“Shut it!!!” you yell at him, then turn away with a wince on your face. “I didn’t think it through before I said it.”

“As usual?”

“You’re being a jerk. You know who I meant when I said that.”

“Okay. So, you don’t think things through before you say them. And I continue to deflect said things. Let me know when anything’s changed between us, y/n.”

You cross your arms at him menacingly and unwaveringly glare at him as a meek mother pushes her young son by the shoulders away from the two simmering adults having their savory conversation within the produce aisle. You’re about the snark out another comment but then the automatic water sprayers interrupt your flow. And also a scrawny employee drops a giant box of eggplant onto the ground before placing them onto the produce shelf.

“What are you doing on this side of town? You’re never out here,” Choso says as he sets the grapefruit back onto the stack.

“I don’t know. What are you doing here?”

“This is my new go-to grocery store.”

“Why not go to the Trader Joe’s that we always used to go to? It’s way closer to you.”

His shoulders sulk slightly at that.

Oh.

Oh.

So, he’s been driving an extra thirty minutes each weekend to go grocery shopping on the other end of town,

Just so he doesn’t have to run into you anymore.

“Look…y/n,” he starts, “it’s not that I don’t want to see you—”

“Choso—”

“It’s just that you accuse me of fucking inanimate objects everytime I do see you.”

“I literally do not care if you do or don’t want to see me.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his gaze flitting downwards to your crossed arms, something catching his eye.

You glance down at yourself, and you catch the glimmer of diamond underneath bright fluorescent light.

“Oh come on,” Choso grumbles, “don’t tell me you actually wear that thing twenty-four-seven.”

“I’m a married woman, Choso. It’s what married women do.”

He clenches his jaw at that, tense enough to cause a vein strain in his neck, his brows narrowing into contempt, but just before he can say anything else, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re being pulled back into a broad chest.

“She’s pretty, huh?” you hear Gojo say and you blink up at him with your chin tilted towards the ceiling, and you yelp as he possessively pulls you in closer to him as he establishes jarring eye contact with Choso with that same old easy grin on his face. “Thank god I’m the one married to her.”

Choso almost blows a fuse at that. “I know she’s pretty,” he says through gritted teeth, “for six years, I was the one that got to f—”

“Ahh!!! Sale on tomatoes!!!” you interrupt the crass and ridiculously toxic masculine energy in the air as you wiggle out of Gojo’s grip then run over to the pristinely stacked romano tomatoes, picking some of them up and holding them like precious commodities. “Maybe we can make some tomato soup with grilled cheese tonight, honey???” you say with a forced smile towards Gojo as you now hold fifteen tomatoes in your arms, a couple of them falling to the floor with a bounce as they roll away.

“HEY!! LADY!!” the scrawny eggplant stacking employee from earlier yells out at you. Some late teens kid with acne speckled across his face and shaggy brown hair scattered over his forehead, somewhat slick with either gel or grease. “I just set those up!!! YOU SQUASH ‘EM, YOU BUY ‘EM.”

“Sorry,” you squeak out, putting the tomatoes back onto the display somewhat haphazardly before grabbing Gojo’s arm and tugging him towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here, please.”

“Huh? I’ve still gotta pay for the cornstarch though,” Gojo says, hardly budging despite your best efforts to womanhandle him.

“No time for that, we leave now. They don’t have cameras here, anyway. I already checked.” You continue to tug on his arm, your body leaning at an almost forty-five degree angle towards the exit as you struggle to get some drag to his feet, but again, he doesn’t budge.

You don’t know exactly why you so adamantly want to restrict Gojo from interacting with Choso, but maybe a part of it was embarrassment. You didn’t want Gojo to find out what Choso did to you and what an absolute fool he had made out of you. It would hurt your pride.

“Isn’t this guy a cop?” Gojo asks as he points his thumb towards Choso. “And you’re telling me to shoplift in front of him?”

“Can you just be on my fucking side for one second?” you grit at him, yanking on his sleeve so hard you almost tear the cuffs out of the holes, and he finally sighs before relenting into a gait towards your general direction.

As you hug Gojo’s arm tightly to keep his momentum towards you, you walk backwards and send Choso a nasty glare. His eyes are wide, studying you and Gojo together as you get further and further away from him. And for a brief, brief, brief, ever-so-slight fleeting moment of love and familiarity and the sight of his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck and the memory of warmth when he used to hold you in his arms in bed on cold winter mornings, you find that you miss him a little. But only a little. You swear that it’s only a little.

Gojo still makes a pit stop at the register much to your pleading dismay, but as always he has zero regard or interest for your melodramatic outbursts, but at least he shoves the extra change from the purchase into his pocket in a somewhat timely fashion so that you two can head out the door in your artificial haste.

In the car, you quickly click your seatbelt on and then have to watch Gojo as he takes his time clicking his back into place and enter some address into his car. You see the ETA on the GPS, and how it shows that this address is roughly thirty-four minutes away.

Once he gets onto the freeway, your mind begins to wander back to seeing Choso at the grocery store and how the sight of him rattled you. You twiddle with your thumbs in your lap nervously, shift around in your seat, chew at the edge of your nail, and Gojo seems to notice this.

“You know, having lived in this town your whole life, I would think you’d be used to the discomfort of running into people you don’t want to see,” he says.

You sigh. “Yes. In theory. But with Choso, it’s–…it’s different.” You hesitate.  “It’s just that—” you try again before worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, “it’s just that, sometimes I don’t get him.”

Gojo is silent for a few seconds as he stares straight towards the road before he responds with, “What do you mean?”

“Like, he avoids me like the plague, and then begs me to go back to him, and then he pretends like I’m just a nuisance to him, and then when he sees me with you, he acts all—…I don’t know…all—”

“Jealous?”

You sink into your seat. “Something like that.”

“Hm. Yeah, to be honest, I don’t know. But you’re not wrong to find it strange.”

Feeling strangely validated in your feelings, you sit there twiddling with your thumbs and then glance out the window. There’s a silence that lasts maybe ten seconds before you say,

“Thanks for interrupting back there. Although, you don’t have to try to deliberately make him jealous anymore. Even though I know I literally asked you to do that. Which makes me a woman of severe psychiatric ailment. Of which I am slightly embarrassed about at the moment.”

“Nah,” he says as he turns the right onto the freeway entrance. When you look over at him, he has a smile on his face. “I like it. It’s never boring with you.”

Unsure if that’s a compliment or some shade of insult, you say, “and that’s a good thing?”

He shrugs, releasing one hand from the wheel and curling the other in a tight knuckled grip at the top of it as the car drives steady down the freeway. He rests his right elbow on the storage console. “Well, it’s different from what I’m used to.”

What are you used to? You so badly want to ask him.

But a flashback to his childhood bedroom at his parent’s house comes back to you.

Yearbook signatures, trophies, and photos abandoned underneath a bed.

You almost don’t even want to acknowledge that he has lived a life before you.

Was that self centered? Or perhaps childish? Or perhaps all in human nature?

You decide not to respond, instead directing your attention to the world outside the car window. The blades of grass dance across the shoulder of the road, all greenery following suit in the same swift motion. You watch as the land slowly turns from developed to more and more remote, yet still cozy and charming. Fields of green, vineyard arrangements, a wooden sign for a winery, a picturesque red barn house, a small cattle farm, an old town church with a bronze bell, hills of empty acres that are just begging to be touched by some great idea or civilization.

You’re privy to change in texture underneath the wheels as Gojo makes a turn onto gravel road about two miles after getting off the freeway. He drives up a hill, maybe a forty-five degree angle, with the crunch of rocks rubbing against the tread of the tires and you see a more distinct, purposeful arrangement of short decorative trees that line the properties of this narrow gravel road. They were large houses, sitting on slightly slanted hills that were all a part of a bumpy landscape that extends for miles. Some had formal fences, some had chain links, but all had expansive yards with no clear distinction of boundary, where the backyard could be the front yard too if only you had the imagination for it.

One house in particular catches your eye. It’s a pretty two story house with a detached garage or perhaps shed, painted in a dusky auburn with dark wooden paneling and structure. It sat near the top of this hill, the front yard being a steep upwards slope of grassy terrain that stretched for the full length of the property, about a hundred yards. The backyard dips behind the back of the hill, downwards into some territory you cannot set eyes on. But it’s stunning. It was gorgeous. Serene. With views of lush green surrounding its every corner. Intimately located, yet open enough to fresh air in which you almost feel one with the world. And in the early evening light, it looked like heaven.

You let out a slow exhale as you take in the sight that looks like a painting to you. There was something so romantic about a home. For as long as time, humans have enjoyed personifying objects, such as boats or planes or cars or  trains. But what could feel more of a living thing than a home?

You hear Gojo click his seatbelt off beside you and you glance over at him. You click off your own seat belt and open your door, stepping out onto the gravel road.

Gojo comes around the car and approaches you, holding a folder in his hand with papers you can only assume have information on the property listing. You also hear the jingle of keys in his pocket as he pushes his hand into it. 

“Got about,” he glances at his watch, “twenty minutes to prep. Oh, and if my clients ask, I’ll just introduce you as my assistant. And we’ll pretend that we have some sort of inappropriate workplace relationship. Just to intrigue them. It’ll make the house more memorable. Sound like a plan?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever gets food on your table.”

You watch as he pushes a copper key into the rusted lock that was clipped onto the chains holding the fence together, guarding the property. He yanks it down once he’s unlocked it and then pulls the fence apart, opening the way to head up the house. It borders on a feeling of trespassing, but you trail closely behind Gojo as he makes his way up the grassy hill, reminding yourself that he has the clearance as a realtor.

You glance around the property a bit more. There’s a small pond in the dip of one of the smaller hills, fuzzy with moss and some small fish you can see snapping at the surface of the water. Off to the right of it, there are similarly moss covered stone benches, small and antique. Perfect to sit there and watch the sun set behind the house. And towards the left, a small gondola with arranged stained glass stepping stones. 

“Charming, huh?” Gojo says over his shoulder at you, and you realize he’s caught you staring at everything in awe.

Gojo makes it to the veranda after lengthy strides across the broad concrete steps that lead to the most stunning hardwood door you’ve ever seen in your life. He turns around to glance at you when he realizes you’re still stuck at the bottom of the steps, digging your heels into the ground underneath you.

“It’s–” you start, looking across the landscape while melancholy washes over you, “...I just can’t believe that someone gets to live here someday.”

He pushes his hands inside of his pant pockets, silent for a few moments. “Is everything alright?”

You look up at him, the question threatening to make the rawness in your throat burn even more. “Yes, I just–” you scoff at yourself a little before turning back to face the little pond, now further in the distance, “I just realized that I’ll probably never be able to afford a house in my life, so I’ll never really know what it’s like to have a realtor show me around a home I could potentially one day call my own. It’s something that sounds so surreal to me.”

There’s a silence that lasts for three seconds, and when you look up at him, his gaze is soft.

“Alright,” he says, jerking his head towards the direction of the door with his hands still lax in his pockets, “let’s take you on a tour of this one, then.”

You blink up at him, heart beating a little faster. “O-...Okay.” And you hop up the stairs to meet him at the top. The fragrance of wild roses and lavender brush past your senses as the leaves sway with the breeze. 

The moment you enter inside, you’re greeted by a faint trace of vanilla lingering in the air. The foyer is warm, inviting, with soft oak floors that creak ever so slightly with each step you two take forward into it, proving the life that it’s lived. To your left, there’s a spacious living room that glows with the golden light of the early evening sun that has started to gently make its descent from high up in the sky. Filtering through sheer curtains, touching your skin from afar, you glance down at your arm and the glow of heaven that’s been imprinted on it. 

Gojo walks further into the living room, pulling the curtains back a bit and then opens one of the windows by pushing up on it. A small draft reaches you as you walk towards him. Off to the right in a corner is a fireplace, the mantle adorned with wilting candles and creased old books.

“Is it wood-burning?” you ask Gojo.

He nods his head. “Can easily convert it to gas if that’s something you’d like better.”

There’s a sense of joy in your chest at the way he continues to play along, pretending as if your opinion truly matters–as if, just for now, you were a serious contender to make this place your home. 

“No,” you say, tracing a finger over the dark wood of the mantle, collecting withered dust. “I like it better like this.”

As he leads you into the kitchen, set your eyes on the marble countertops that meet soft sage cabinetry, the window behind the sink overlooking the rolling landscape of the backyard. You stand on your tiptoes to get a better view of what’s down the hill, and you see a small trickling creek that flows down the valley. Your gaze diverts towards the countertops and you see an elegant collection of mismatched china.

Spinning on your heel, you find Gojo leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you inspect every inch. “When were these appliances last updated?” you ask, running your hand across the oven handle.

“About fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, they’re a little old.”

He smiles at you. “So the tolerance for vintage charm ends with kitchen appliances?”

“Charm is cute,” you say, a little cheekily as you move on without him towards the staircase, “but not when the house burns down because of an oven gas leak.”

He hums from behind you as he follows you, and you can hear the smile on his face through the sound alone. “You’re looking out for the right things.”

The staircase, with its dark wood railing and white balusters, curves gently upwards into the second floor. Just like your own home, the third and first steps creak beneath your feet. You always loved the sound, although you know most people attempt to fix such things in a house. For you, it felt like each step had a story, and some were very vocal about never being forgotten. 

The upstairs hallway is lined with more windows, filling the space with the same golden glow that now dances across the soft, tapering wallpaper that has begun to peel around the edges slightly. Your feet wander on their own with a sense of grace that seems to have taken hold of you. 

The first bedroom you stumble across is small, but still enchanting. The bay window has a small reading nook with cushions piled up on the surface, inviting the image of lazy afternoons spent lost in books as the world beyond the glass panes flutters in the wind. The queen-sized bed in the center of the room is minimally dressed and faces an oak dresser that was leaning slightly away from the wall in a crooked fashion. 

The room across from the first bedroom appears to be a study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are bolted to the walls and a vintage writing desk sits by another window where the changing light of day turns the room into a living painting. Your mother crosses your mind. And how much she would’ve loved this window. You could picture her setting up her easel and canvas here, painting away with strokes that could threaten even the beauty of the view outside the window. You think about how much joy that would’ve brought to her. 

In that same trance, you walk down the hall to the end with Gojo following behind you. You push through the set of double doors that lead into the master bedroom. It was spacious, yet intimate, with vaulted ceilings and a four-poster bed draped in airy linen curtains. Sitting across from it is another fireplace surrounded by two picturesque little chairs. One with a square backrest colored a dark burgundy, and the other with an oval backrest colored a pinkish opal. Between the two was a small table that had a stack of a few books. 

The attached en-suite bathroom appears timeless, with a clawfoot tub resting beneath a wide, arched window that offers the view of the rolling hills in their entire glory. The marble vanity has vintage brass fixtures that reflect the soft glow of the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, one that takes the shape of the roof of the house. 

You hear tapping on the window to your right, and when you glance over there, you see a tree branch bothering the surface due to the wind. 

Your eyes also catch the faint bordering corner of wood beyond the frame of the window.

With wide eyes, you turn to Gojo and point in that general direction. “Is that…?”

“The balcony,” he says, then nods, “it’s connected to this room.”

He leads you out onto the wooden platform, the floorboards warm under your feet from the early evening sun. It stretches out about ten feet and wraps around the entire back end of the house, with easily the most breathtaking vantage point you’ve seen thus far. An entire view of the creek that disappears into the valley, the image of dancing wildflowers on distant rolling hills, the sun that continues to glow in the distance, and a gentle breeze with the faintest hint of salt, as though from a distant ocean. It felt like its own quiet little world. A place where time slows, and you can just be as you are. It was difficult to put into words, but you had never felt more at peace in your entire life.

Gojo leans over the sturdy yet worn railing as he glances down at the grass near the foundation of the house. You come up beside him, loosely curling your hands into a grip around the rusted metal.

You see him turn his face to you in your periphery, but you continue to stay staring ahead.

“So…what do you think? Can you picture yourself living here?” he asks you as a soft brush of breeze passes by. 

“Well–” you start, but then a sobering thought flashes through you, “wait, Satoru, what happened to your clients?”

“Oh, yeah,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket to glance at it, “they texted me about ten minutes ago that they weren’t going to make it.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve left.”

“Well, you seemed like you were in some sort of trance while you were looking around. I was scared to interrupt it.”

You breathe in deep and then let out a slow sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly. “Mhm. The house is beautiful. And, yes, I could picture myself living here.” 

More than just that. It was like a dream house. The one that a person would see in fleeting memories right before they pass, as it holds all of their most beloved ones. That ethereal, it was. 

He hums softly. You look over at him and find him blinking slowly. The wind brushes through his hair, ruffling it up gently, to where you could see the blueness in his eyes a little more clearly. That, too, was ethereal. 

“Satoru,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He continues to stare at the horizon. “Sure.”

“Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New york city,” he easily tells you.

But the answer surprises you. “R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Really long.”

“Mm. You don’t seem like it.”

“Like what? An asshole from the city?”

“Mhm. Just a regular asshole.”

He laughs. You feel the rumble of it from the way your shoulder was pressed up against his arm. 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask him. But the question was not one that you had thought to say. Rather, it felt as though it was placed on your tongue by someone else.

You feel his shoulders rise slightly with the deep breath he draws in as he leans over the railing a bit more. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I still own a place there in downtown Manhattan,” he says, “but I don’t really plan on moving back there ever. So I was thinking of selling it and getting something out here instead.”

“Oh?” you say, “like what? Where?”

“This,” he says, pointing to the wooden panels you two were standing on, “this house.”

You blink, caught between surprise and something deeper. “This house?” you echo, your voice quiet. 

He nods, his fingers tapping lightly against the railing. “Yeah. Although, I still show it to people if they’re interested. It’s been on the market for over three years though.”

You let your gaze drift over the balcony, the way the light softens against the weathered wood, and suddenly, the house doesn’t feel the same. Like it carries more weight somehow. Like it feels more real, more alive. And maybe that’s what makes a house a home–the intent to belong in it. 

"You see that greenery over there?" he asks, his arm stretching out as he highlights an area in the distance with his hand, "aaaaall the way down there?" Now pointing at the creak.

"Mm," you squint, "uh-huh!"

"Believe it or not, those are all avocado trees."

Your eyes widen and then you look at him. "No way."

He smiles. "Yeahhh. Three-point-four acres of 'em. And they're all a part of this lot."

Your smile matches his equally as nerdy one. "Wow I bet you loooove that.

"I do," he grins, and then gratuitously sights, "all I can eat guacamole 'til the day I die."

You snort.

"Yeah, anyways, that's why no one wants to buy this house," he says, "guess how much it costs to water them per month.”

"Mm, per month?" you look up to the golden sky, "a few thousand?"

"Try a hundred-and-fifty thousand."

"What–...I beg your finest fucking PARDON?!?!"

He laughs. "Yeah that's usually the reaction I get when I end a tour of this house on that note."

“That’s so insane…what’s the point of buying the house, then?”

"Avocados are hard to grow, they can be finicky, but all the land on this lot is extremely fertile," he says, "and if you can import the produce, it actually ends up being pretty lucrative." He points across to the dip in the hill behind the creak. "You could turn that place over there into some kind of ranch, too. Or a wedding venue, and rent it out. I don't know. The property has a lot of investment value. But the house itself is a bit dated. Would need some work."

"Like a fixer-upper on HGTV,” you offer for the conversation.

"Yeahhh. Something like that."

"Mm," you hum.

"Y’know, I was on HGTV once."

"What?! There's no way."

"Yup. House hunters."

"Bullshit. I would've known. I have seen every single episode since I graduated college."

"Oh, well, this was back when they still had Design Star on. I was like twenty-four or something. Fresh new realtor."

"Oh right. I was still in college then. I forgot that you're ancient."

He gives you an irritated side eye.

"So...will you be fixing up this house?" you ask him. His hobby of woodworking starts to make a little bit more sense.

"Maybe. I don't know if I'm too young to be thinking about retirement yet...but that's kind of what I was thinking of turning it into. A dream retirement home."

"You're definitely not young. Don't worry about that."

He gives you another irritated look.

"What happens to your other house, then?" you say. "The one next door."

“Hmm," he muses, "I'll probably stay there another year or so and then rent it out eventually."

"You don't want to settle down there? Raise your kids there?" you blurt out. You immediately wince a little at the forward question, but wasn't that something people thought about when thinking of a house? Do they not imagine filling it with their own hopes and dreams? Do they not picture their spouse sitting on the porch outside, swinging with the wind? Do they not picture their children's laughter down the hallway? 

A shiver runs down your spine. You glance over at Gojo, who continues to stare forward towards the horizon, His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he's deep in thought staring out into the landscape as the golden sun begins to turn purple in the sky, casting a dimming glow on his face.

And you wonder. You briefly wonder what a home must mean to him, after having to witness his parents perish in the flames of the one that housed his childhood. 

"It's a nice house," he finally responds to you, "but a part of me wants to live faaaaar away from everyone and everything someday." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he can already tell how contradictory you find that sentiment to be. Mr Grew Up In New York City wants to live in a quaint little cape-cod-esque agriculture farmland property miles away from major civilization? what was it about the city that changed him so much? “Just be at peace, you know. Plant a million more avocado trees out here in the middle of nowhere, and not have to worry about their devilish spawns dropping all over my cute neighbor's herb garden.”

You flutter your eyelids, the comment catching you off guard, before your entire posture softens. "Satoru...it's ok. I'll move my herb garden."

"Oh, you thought I meant you? I was talking about seventy-four year old Barbara to my right."

You sulk your shoulders and roll your eyes, turning away from him to face forward towards the landscape again.

He laughs. "I'm just teasing."

You glance over at him again, and there's that same distant stare he casts over the greenery in the distance. 

"I can't believe your dream in life is to become a farmer," you say.

"Ehhh. It's honest work." he exhales slowly. The sun is now sitting on the hilltop. "It's just a dream, anyways. Just a dream. I'm still allowed to have those, right?" It was asked with genuine curiosity. 

"Why are you asking me for permission?"

His eyes hood ever so slightly, a dip in his expression you can't quite discern. but it's evident in the way his gaze off across the horizon dampens. "Hm. I don't know."

You shiver a little as the evening wind brushes past, and Gojo catches sight of the movement. you mentally curse yourself, because you know that you've just cut this moment short.

"It's cold," he says, "let's get inside."

You try to think of ways to stay here. Ways to lengthen this moment. Ask him for his jacket and make some teasing comment about how he's not a gentleman. Or lie and say that you're not cold at all, that you run warm when you know all your life you've always had cold hands and feet. Or just tell him that you don't want this moment to end. Tell him you want to see the sun through its sunset. Tell him how you never want to step foot off of this house ever again.

"Okay," you whisper. 

And he leads you back inside, down the stairs, and as you stand out on the veranda, at the grassy hills towards his car, you implant this memory in your head, this feeling of standing on this home and dreaming as if it were yours. Before all it becomes is exactly that, 

Only a dream. 

.

.

.

.

.

[end of ch.7, ‘if u wanna get groceries’]

songs of the chapter:  groceries by mallrat  margaret by lana del rey

a/n. thanks so much for reading! this was a fun chapter to write, especially the house sequence. i think it’s mentioned in the chapter somewhere, but yeah…i just think there’s something so romantic and melancholic about a home :’’) i guess that’s a recurring theme in ihm, with reader’s childhood home holding the memories that her mother has lost of her, and then ihm gojo losing his parents to a destructive house fire, and also him being a realtor, and also reader planning to sell her house, and then the dream house in this chapter. it’s been fun breathing a bit of life into these different settings themselves. ah i also decided i want to include little “song(s) of the chapter” to the end of these! just as something kinda fun to do. i’d say these are songs that inspired me to write certain scenes within the chapter, or songs that i listened to a lot while writing the chapter, or songs i could picture playing during the ending credits if this were a tv show xd. but yeahhh!! also just a way to share music bc i love music lol.  big thank you to my beta readers mirl, leni, and ayelin for helping me out w parts of this chapter n giving me motivation to write it <33 i appreciate you guys sososo much!! i really attribute a lot of my writing motivation towards them, as i’ve been really busy but been able to write these lengthy chapters bc of their support.  i did kinda rush parts of this chapter just because i wanted to get it out on the weekend, so i apologize if there are errors or mistakes of if anything’s a little confusing or sudden. tbh i did want to spend a tiny bit more time on it but, that’s ok. fuck it we ball also! i just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my readers and those that have stuck around for so long with me or maybe newer readers who have interacted or become invested w my works recently… i know that i am so slow w updates and sometimes inconsistent w it as well, life just gets so crazy for me and it’s a struggle to find proper time to sit down and write, and i wish soooo badly to put out chapters faster, but yea easier said than done haha. but all of my readers who continue to engage with lil ol’ me even despite all of that really means a lot to me, more than i can say :”) i still face self doubts so often w my writing, i’m halfway convinced i’ll never be satisfied w my craft, but the little interactions i have w everyone really make my day and push me forward to write even when it’s hard and i realized i haven’t really said a proper thank u to u guys for that as of late. plus i know jjk manga has ended and also i took a hiatus n also tumblr has lowkey been fuckin me over on the algorithm too lol etc etc i definitely have noticed i’ve lost some readers n engagement along the way, which i understand is natural n just a part of being a long fic author however daunting that may be, but i just really wanted to say a thank you to those who continue to be here irrespective of all of that. i appreciate everyone who sees value in my works enough to read them, follow up w them, interact w them, share them, like them etc. especially w ihm bc sometimes i feel so bad for the slow burn and the yap haha i’m sure some of you may be privy to the fact by now that this story will be very long and also so much more than just the romance. but…i find confidence from you all to follow my vision and i’m really grateful for that.  very likely that the next chapter is in ihm gojo’s pov :0 very exciting and makes me a lil nervous. for some reason i find his pov somewhat intimidating to write for loool. but hopefully i’ll pull it off.

much love!! there will be a delay in getting this chapter up on ao3 and also adding it to the masterlist etc bc i'll be away from keyboard when this posts from my queue, but everything should be updated by the time i'm back home tonight :) see you all in the next one <3 -ellie

➸ you're all caught up!

🏷️: @samistars @pickuptruck01 @mtsyik @imasexy-buffalo @sashisuslover

@thegreatandlvable @tw0fvced @um-no-ok @fiftyfeetstrawberryparfait @gojodickbig

@tofumiao @coolwitchtree @joemama-2 @anonymity-222 @sxnkuna

@xd3pr3ss3dx @readerg77 @tvdumarvelhpsimp @thotwiththoughts @4y3sh4

@bloopsstuff @jaegersity @toffeebrat @cactisjuice @mya1112

@shasaaa15 @astrokenny @tenjikusstuff4 @anujah9 @ariasnoodles

@heiejdhdh @lvrellie @satorugirlie @ducky1232 @suguruslovedoll

@electrckchild @lavender-hvze @crematedstar @sxnkuna @celestialforce

@mrswanggae @readerg77 @sexys-archives @zelzablues @kristinering-actress

@erencvlt @blueberry19000 @angelicscribe @nappingmoon @starmapz

note. i'd recommend subscribing to the fic on my ao3 so you can get email notifs :) tumblr taglist is based on interacts; please do not ask me for updates or ask me when i am going to next update (read rules)

taglist is closed

[selamat-linting]

i should start watching soap operas again. unfortunately my house dont have tv. literally thats the reason why im not liveblogging on tumblr about how the mother in law and the gullible husband should fucking die and the female antagonist should get together with the girl protag, even if theyre adopted sisters. my family always talk about buying an antenna and one of those digital to analog signal converters but it never happened!

[miss--river]

ive always told myself that i dont have a problem with religion, people should believe in what they want to believe as long as it doesnt hurt anyone. but thing is that i do have a problem with it and i hate religion. i want people to stop talking to me about god and anything religious in the slightest, specifically christianity. just fucking stop talking to me about it.

[istillgotlove]

I am sure the Joe Goldberg reference was a joke because he is in fact a stalker first and she is indeed engage in stalker behaviours, even if in a way that is incredibly relatable.

Taylor Swift watching her ex on a location app because he forgot to turn it off I'm obsessed with you admitting that to the entire world.

[wooskirbyplushie]

Our Little Secret ~ K.HJ

✰ idol!hongjoong x fan!reader where the guys catch hongjoong not so secretly slip a paper into your hand at a fanmeet

✰ word count: 3.6k

✰ warnings: some cussing (nothing crazy), pet names (love), female!reader, glasses!hongjoong cuz that’s enough to drive me insane tbh, she/they pronouns used for reader

✰ a/n: hey so i randomly got this idea one day and decided to execute it lol. tbh im not sure if i’ll keep updating this or not just because it was only supposed to be a little drabble but im 87% sure i’ll continue it just so my friends don’t hold me at gunpoint to finish it😭😭

✰ italics are used for inner thoughts, bold italic is just to emphasize words, also don’t pay attention to the timestamps for the texts later on k that’s it

dividers are created by @cafekitsune tysm !

you were late, you were so late, and you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself.

today has been marked in your calendar for almost 2 months, the day that ateez finally had a fanmeet in your city. you had saved up for the event for so long that when they announced it you didn’t hesitate to snatch your card out of your wallet to buy tickets for you and your best friend, kaylani.

but today you completely fucked your schedule up. oversleeping was not in your plans and neither was having to iron your outfit and rush to catch the train, just for it to delay for 15 minutes. in addition to the 5 minute bus ride from the station turning into a 30 minute walk because the bus you and your friend needed to catch didn’t run that day. who knew?

by the time you finally got to the venue, security were already trying to lock up the doors. i mean, it made sense considering they started meeting fans almost two hours ago.

“hey!!” kaylani shouted to try and get the guards attention. one of them looked up, utter confusion on his face as he watched two young girls jogging at them from across the parking lot.

“please we- we have tickets. the train made us late, but we cannot miss this event” you breathed out as fast as possible, trying to catch your breath at the same time. lani shuffled around for her phone to pull up the virtual tickets before the guards shrugged and scanned both tickets to let you in. “you girls either have really incredible or really horrible timing” one of the guys commented and told you to have fun.

you both squealed the second you got inside.

following the arrows and signs, you reached the auditorium that ateez was having their fanmeet in. now usually, fanmeets had a show in the first half and the actual meet in the second. but thankfully this time around it was swapped, meaning you guys didn’t miss any of the actual show. would it possibly be delayed because you were late? ehhh you’d cross that bridge when you got to it.

“we’re really here holy shit that’s ateez 20 feet away from us-“ you started rambling before lani cut through your thoughts with another squeal. she saw her bias, that had to be the only reason

“ITS JONGHOOO AHHHH”

“wow kaylani, it’s almost like he’s in the grou- AHHH LOOK ITS HONGJOONG”

kaylani rolled her eyes and mocked you. “wow y/n it’s almost like he’s in the group.” touché.

it wasn’t long before you realized they had changed quite a bit for this fanmeet. for example, the boys weren’t sitting in age order, or what you and lani called “fanchant order”. jongho was first and hongjoong was last, which didn’t really matter, but you knew your heart would race more and more as you got closer to your bias.

joong was your ult bias and had been for 4 years. you loved all of the members (duh) but the thought of possibly holding that man’s hand sent you over the moon. sure he held other girls hands, but this was gonna be your moment.

“bro. bro we’re next” kaylani whisper shouted while gripping your shoulder.

“unhand me you fein- oh god that’s jongho like he’s real.”

“RIGHT THATS THE CHOI JONGHO. 4TH GEN VOCALIST AHHHH” if you couldn’t tell she was a jongho ult before, it was super evident now. and because of that, you let lani go first.

******

if she could’ve, kaylani would’ve talked jongho’s ear off for 40 minutes. luckily he seemed intrigued by what was being said, laughing and giggling along with your friend. and now you wish you went first instead.

eventually she moved to wooyoung and was out-yapped, while you talked to jongho, really just telling him all of your favorite runs and verses he had. then you moved down again, and again, got to san and almost forgot your morals. he had you giggling for your life and the blush on your face was impossible to hide. he was THE ateez flirt.

but you and kaylani kept moving. to be real, since you were the last people in the room, there was no real rush but you decided to be mindful of the boys time.

yunho and yeosang were adorably nerdy and a hint of shy in real life, seonghwa really knew how to catch you off guard. one second you were talking about his lego collection and the next he was spewing out compliments and grabbing your hand. you tried to turn your face to hide your blush again, but you turned right into hongjoong’s direction and almost screamed. he was staring at you, and hard. what you hadn’t realized was kaylani whispering how much you “loved him” and how he was your “ultimate bias and first choice for a husband.”

yea you were either gonna go back to jongho and tell him how she brought his photocard to prom, or you were going to murder her.

you finished with seonghwa and slowly moved to hongjoong while lani stood off to the side and snuck a few pictures. “so. i’m your ult huh?” hongjoong questioned, arms folded across his chest.

you gulped, “y-yea you’ve always stuck out to me,” your voice came out in a whisper. hongjoong chuckled and leaned forward a bit.

“i’m your ult but you have no problem flirting with san and seonghwa in front of me, yea?”

“i don’t see the difference between that and you holding a bunch of fans hands, flirting with them.”

your mouth worked faster than your brain could, and you regretted it the second you finished the sentence, slapping your hand over your mouth.

hongjoong tilted his head and raised an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. god he looked good in glasses. “quite the mouth on you…”

“y/n” you finished his sentence.

“y/n..” he trailed off like he was letting your name marinate on his tongue. “really pretty name for a really pretty person”

now you were really blushing. you didn’t care if it was fan service, he was servicing the hell out of you and you were eating it up. “thank you joong..” and he smirked in return.

******

you talked for a while (ok like 5 minutes) praising joong just like you did all the other members. he asked you what your favorite songs were, and san jumped in when he heard you mention desire. “honestly such a hater, desire is a masterpiece!!” you exclaimed as the top desire defender in tinyville. joong and san laughed before san walked off backstage and hongjoong picked up his sharpie, doodling while you talked.

you just kept going, your level of yapping surpassing kaylani while she was talking to jongho. hongjoong was eating it up though, especially when you started listing your favorite rap verse from him, even saying you could tell an ateez song by his signature giggle.

“it’s a bit embarrassing but i’ve listened to the songs so much that i just know? your music saved me, genuinely.” you trailed off before joong grabbed your hand.

“i honestly think it’s adorable.” he replied with a genuine smile. his smile was warm and bright, like lights on a christmas tree in december. you were soon brought back to reality when a guard told joong he had to wrap up with you so they could move on to the show. he nodded while messily writing something on a small piece of paper with his non dominant hand, still holding your hand with his other.

“well i guess this is goodbye, y/n. it was really nice talking to you and your friend” joong said, subtly crumbling a paper up in his hand before going to slip it into your own.

you weren’t dumb, you played like you didn’t even realize, following along with his skit. “it was really nice to meet you joongie,” you replied with a soft smile before you both got up and walked in your respective directions.

******

“you aren’t slick joong, i saw that.” san whispered while the group got dressed for the next part of the show. he was putting on a school boy uniform, adjusting the blue tie that went with it. hongjoong sat next to him, tying the shoes that he swapped into.

“doesn’t matter if you saw it, managers didn’t see it.” he responded with a shrug. joong knew him getting caught would mean having to change his number and most likely block you if you ever reached out to him, but in his head it was worth the risk.

“if i saw it, how do you know they didn’t see it captain?”

“because i waited till they turned around. and to be honest, i don’t care if they saw. i liked her.”

“liked who?” wooyoung asked as he walked over to steal san’s cologne. “because if you mean the last two people that came in, i don’t blame you! the last one was extremely pretty..”

joong just shot wooyoung a side eye before grabbing his phone, letting out a small sigh at the sight of no notification from you. he thought you guys had a little connection, right? then again-

“she probably just thought you were servicing her. ya know, your job.” san said stiffly, fixing a few stray strands of hair. joong clicked his phone off and threw it to his side with a slight head shake. maybe san was right, you probably didn’t look much into it considering it was his job to service his fans. maybe the managers did see him and they took the paper after you were out of joong’s sight. he was getting stressed over a girl he just met and even though his friends were talking to him in logic, hongjoong refused to learn that language.

he let out another small sigh before ruffling his hair and clapping his hands together to gather the group to get on stage. he had to clear his mind so he could perform. “alright guys let’s do this. hana dul set,”

“fightingggg!!” the boys yelled in unison and cheered, hyping each other up for what was to come. one by one, the boys started leaving the dressing room to take their places in the wings of the stage curtains.

seonghwa made sure everyone made it out, before looking back to see hongjoong lagging behind. “you coming bub?” joong looked at hwa, then his phone on the couch, and back to hwa before sending him a quick nod and walking out the door.

he’d be able to make it through the show.. right?

******

“soooo we’re just gonna ignore what happened back there? you know i saw that right love?” kaylani pressed you while fixing her lip gloss, making you jump out of your thoughts.

“what happened?? we just had a normal conversation!”

“normal my ass. you talked for like five minutes and then KIM HONGJOONG SLID YOU HIS-“

you slapped your hand over her mouth. you were in the empty bathroom but there was no reason to take any chances of a manager, or even worse, a fan overhearing and reporting back to one. “kay, i love you. dearly. but please lower your voice love…”

she sighed behind your hand and obliged before complaining about you smudging her lip combo. you rolled your eyes and pulled the crumbled sheet of paper from out of your jacket pocket to show your friend. the numbers were a bit wayward, but joong was writing with his left hand so it was understandable. he somehow still managed to make it legible enough for you to understand though.

“it’s his kakao talk im assuming. i still have the app from when you and i had to use it when i was in seoul.”

“do you know for sure it’s his number ?”

“of course i don’t know for sure kay, im trying not to lose my mind right n-“

“text it.”

that may have seemed like the obvious answer but you were still extremely nervous about getting caught. and the idea of getting caught by a manager was still circling around in your brain. “there’s a chance that he’s waiting for your text ya know. just text it and see.” kaylani finished with a shrug, her lips popping as she finished up her lip combo. you took a deep breath before shakily grabbing your phone and opening your kakao talk.

what were you even going to say ? hi ? that sounded basic but there really wasn’t much else to do. there was no reason to say your full name because, well, what if it wasn’t truly him ? lani must’ve gotten bored of watching you stare at your phone without typing anything because after a few seconds your phone was in her hands as she drafted up and sent a message for you.

“KAYLANI !???”

“it’s fine, i just said hey and that it was the girl from the fanmeet. unless he’s going around giving his number out to every pretty girl like a whore, he’ll know it’s you.”

she handed your phone back to you before throwing her hands on your shoulders and flashing you a slight smile. “it’ll be fine ok? now let’s go watch our boys do the utmost embarrassing shit!”

you nodded in response and stepped out of the bathroom to make your way to your seats.

now what your best friend didn’t know when you bought your tickets was that you saved enough for front row. and the surprise was pretty evident by the screech she let out once you dragged her to the seats in front of the stage.

“no way no way we’re this close HOLY- y/n forget hongjoong will you please marry me???”

you just laughed and playfully pushed lani towards her seat, “get off of me and sit down goofball.”

******

“2 minutes to showtime!!”

the lights were dimming as the members stood in the wings of the stage, mic packs being adjusted and pinned onto the boys. wooyoung was humming some vocal warmups to himself before he walked over to hongjoong. “jeez captain, lighten up. you look like yeosang told you that hwa was his favorite hyung and not you…”

hongjoong jumped, unnoticeable to wooyoung, and scoffed in response to his statement. “please, as if that would ever happen.”

“ah you’re right. you look like your mom told you that bumjoong is the favorite child.”

“is there a point to your escapades or do you just enjoy annoying me?”

a look of fake hurt flashed across wooyo’s face in response, “ouch. you must really be missing your pretty girlfriend to talk to your best friend like that joongie.”

hongjoong spun towards wooyoung and gave him, yet another, death glare. “keep your voice down are you insane ? listen, we have a job to do, get focused on that.” and with that he stormed back to his place on stage. just take a few breaths and it’ll be fine… no reason for you to snap on your members.

“places guys; 10 seconds!”

he didn’t think it was possible, but that 10 seconds was both the longest and shortest time of hongjoong’s career. he knew you were in the crowd, he knew he had to do his best just for you. but what he wasn’t expecting when he scanned the crowd was to make direct eye contact with you and your friend in the front row.

oh he was soooo fucked.

so fucked that hwa had to elongate his intro and improvise an extra end part to get joong to snap out of his daze.

“ah i’m sorry, i got caught up looking at all of our beautiful atiny! hi guys, my name is kim hongjoong, captain of ateez!!”

the crowd seemed to take it well, i mean his job was fan service. but in truth, he was lying, he was only looking at you. and to his surprise, you were looking back; in fact he could feel your eyes on him frequently, and anytime he didn’t it was just because you and your friend were laughing together.

hongjoong kept finding himself on your side of the stage, often sending you flirty glances and winks during his verses; and god you were eating it up. not to mention how obsessed he was with getting you to smile. unfortunately for him though, he had to give that same energy to everyone for his actions to not be so obvious. even more unfortunately for him, san and wooyoung were on his ass the entire time, which caused seonghwa to send suspicious glances joong’s way. fuck.

hwa approached joong halfway through the show, once they were offstage during yunho and mingi’s unit performance. “fess up, why are you clinging to one side of the stage and why do you keep zoning out?? it’s not a good look and it’s making us look unorganized on stage.“

hongjoong just toyed with the hem of his sleeve in silence. to be honest he was trying to focus but he was drunk on the thought of being able to make you smile. there wasn’t anything he could say to get hwa off of his back, so he opted for a shrug.

“are you not feeling ok? you should’ve said something beforehand joong-“

“i’m fine.” please just drop it…

“fine.” hwa started, preparing his mic to get back on stage. the irritation was evident in his actions, but his voice was still soft. “but you’re the leader, just know this shit is on your shoulders if management says something.”

hongjoong just nodded in response, following seonghwa’s actions in fixing his mic. “that’s 50,000 won for calling me leader and not captain by the way.” he retorted with a smirk before running back on stage to meet the audience’s cheers.

******

“okay atiny, you guys enjoying the show?” yeosang asked, receiving a loud roar of approval from the crowd.

“i take that as a yes! but unfortunately…” jongho started his sentence, and atiny realized that the show was coming to an end. “hey hey we don’t want to leave either, but we have one more performance for you guys! are you ready??”

the rest of the guys were set up on a prop couch for the last song, each of them holding a red or white rose, as they waited for jongho to join them. once he did, the speakers started playing the instrumental of seventeen’s “ready to love” and seonghwa started off the cover, the crowd going insane.

eventually the boys got to the ending and handed out (or really threw) their roses to people in the crowd. and to no one’s surprise, hongjoong sat on the edge of the stage and handed his white rose to you, his fingers gliding over yours during the hand off, causing a goofy smile to take over your face with a light pink blush. kaylani teased you after making sure to get the entire interaction on video, you simply rolling your eyes and covering the camera in response. joong winked before getting up to join the members for their final bow and go back to their green room.

“thank you atiny!! we’ll be back soon” san yelled as the curtains closed and yunho and mingi peaked out to wave one last time.

******

hongjoong was the first one back in the room, his mind filled with your smile and whether or not you texted him. he loosened his tie and jogged over to the couch where he left his phone, anxious but also eager. but when he heard the members following close behind, joong grabbed his phone and rushed to the bathroom; mostly to avoid being teased by wooyoung, reprimanded by seonghwa, and shamed by san.

“you ok captain?” mingi asked from the other side of the door. “you left kinda in a hurry..”

“y-yea i’m fine, drank a lot of water earlier.”

mingi just shrugged it off with a low “okay” and went back to the other members, hongjoong letting out a small breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. he clicked his phone on and surprisingly saw a kakao notification from an unsaved contact. hongjoong’s face lit up brighter than his phone screen as he opened the app to reply.

but wait. was it you or a stalker?

did someone else possibly see the paper he gave you?

was he overthinking? yes. but most of it seemed logical.

joong sighed before he reread your message.

?: hey

?: it’s the girl from the fanmeet

still he had to confirm it was you.. and he had a pretty decent idea of how to do it.

joongie: really? then say something i said to you earlier

joong figured you would take a while to write back but you actually replied right away.

?: “really pretty name for a really pretty person”

joongie: i’m glad you texted me y/n :)

he just smiled at his phone, thinking of what to text you next. should he ask to facetime you maybe? should he flirt or was it too early for that? joong’s mind had a million tabs open at once but he really wanted to live in the current moment-

until wooyoung decided to be obnoxious and bang on the bathroom door like the police.

“hey some of us actually have to pee ya know!”

open tab number one million and one, strangle jung wooyoung…

[communistkenobi]

I’ve watched the first three Mission Impossible movies now and it’s crazy how they’re all completely different films from one another lol. which probably has to do with the fact that they all had radically different directors (Brian de Palma, John Woo, JJ Abrahams), but the only real consistent through line is Tom Cruise. Because even within the ten year time-span between their releases, the series is already unrecognisable from itself

The first one is a 1990s genre-defining heist spy movie and its concerns are very much rooted in the fact that the CIA is now basically this massive institutional leftover of the Cold War with many hanging threads that need to be dealt with (one of the main McGuffins being a list of names of undercover CIA agents scattered throughout ‘Eastern Europe’). When I first watched it I thought it was pretty good but not like great, but after having watched two of its sequels and thought about it some more I’m a lot more positive on it. The imagery of that movie is unforgettable, the highlight being the completely silent scene where Tom Cruise hangs from a wire in an all-white room trying desperately not to touch the floor. It’s crazy that de Palma directed this and Carrie and Scarface, all films with scenes permanently lodged into the cultural consciousness. And like it is a distinctly ‘cool’ movie, but not in the insane rabid jarhead post-9/11 action movie cool way, like there isn’t this fascistic military masculinity grafted onto it, its way more sleek genius spy guy shit. Anyway this one is really good.

The second movie is pretty bad and often barely comprehensible, like the scene-to-scene editing is hard to follow and the pacing is horrible. The experience of watching it is like watching Face-Off (another John Woo movie), like same weird ass vibe and editing except in this case the movie is boring and bad. Some of the stunts are pretty cool but they can’t really rise above the film they take place in. It’s also not a spy movie, it’s just a bad action movie. I feel like MI2’s biggest crime is trivialising Tom Cruise, like he has no presence or command in that film at all, he’s literally just a random guy with long hair. It’s insane the immediate drop in quality. This one is about a bio-engineered virus that the villains want to use to start a pandemic, but the concern feels very far away and immaterial ? Idk I really didn’t like this one

And then the third one is also just as bizarre because it looks and sounds and is written exactly like a Michael Bay film, down to the same vibrant ugly orange-blue colour palette and quippy dialogue and saccharine ending. And it’s also not a spy movie either lmao!!!! Like god the jump in representation of US intelligence agencies from 1996 to 2006 is staggering, it’s moved from using fantastical spy gadgets to very real military hardware and technology, only keeping the spy-magic tech in MI3 (like 3D printing the villain’s face as a mask disguise) because it was already established in the first one. And the action scenes are straightforwardly action scenes, shootouts with military helicopters and dodging precision drone strikes. Tom Cruise does an insane amount of running in this movie and it looks sooooo good, like there are so many long-ass shots of him just fucking booking it at full speed and that dude’s running form was made to be captured on film. But MI3 is like so deeply entrenched in Bush era catch-the-terrorists stuff, though somewhat offset by having Philip Seymour Hoffman as the main villain instead of like Al-Qaeda (although the main anxiety has still firmly shifted from a post-Soviet ‘Eastern Europe’ to a scary generalised terrorist ‘Middle East’). But again it feels so incredibly different in tone and fixation and motivation than the first film. 9/11 really did permanently break the brains of every USAmerican. Anyway I can’t wait to watch the next one

[solarsturniolo]

wait i wanna hear about this frat boy 🫣

@zebonos GIRLLLL WHERE DO I EVEN START 😭😭

1. all of my friends say he’s ugly (he’s 6’3’’ sue me)

2. he snores SO LOUD

3. he punches and talks in his sleep

4. he has a cocaine addiction

5. he’s a bouncer at a bar that i’m a regular at

6. his head is too small and his eyes are uneven

7. he gets mad and insecure about my attraction to vinnie hacker

8. he is HORRIBLE at communicating (which was the ONE requirement i had when i agreed to let my friend set us up together. I said idc what he looks like, idc if he’s just wanting to fuck, he HAS to be good at communicating)

9. our second time together he marked me with hickies, begged me to stay the night, kissed me on my forehead, told me he wanted a future w me, etc

10. our 4th time together (we were awake for two hours mind you) he said he wanted to marry me 3 times, wanted to have kids with me 2 times, said i love you 4 times, planned what our engagement rings would look like, etc)

11. i ended up fucking his roommate and he had a talk with me about it. (“yeah…he’s a good guy, so much better than i could ever be for you…but whose bed are you in right now?”)

12. held my favorite pair of earrings hostage for a month

13. he does not like when i unadd him on snapchat and will ask ALL of my friends why im mad at him when ive told him i hate using snapchat for communicating bc its cancer.

14. he does not sleep in the dark

15. fucked a girl with an std

16. tried to get with me without telling me he fucked a girl with an std

17. tried to LIE about fucking a girl with an std

18. insane alcoholic. i watched him crush a 24 case of beer in two hours

19. doesn’t acknowledge me unless i’m actively ignoring him

20. he will STARE AT ME AND FOLLOW ME AROUND THE BAR ALL NIGHT if we are there at the same time (my friends have WITNESSED THIS HAPPENING) (( @megamett44-lover ))

21. will text me at 3:00-5:00 in the morning saying he needs to talk about stuff but i’m obviously ASLEEP

22. has not taken me on a proper date. (but he will buy my drinks and offers to buy me food if we go to cookout or mcdonald’s so i guess i can’t complain)

23. sleeps with socks on

24. hogs the blanket

25. doesn’t take out his trash and lets it pile up in his room

26. he has an awful haircut

27. left me alone immediately after sex for 23 minutes to go watch his roommate get his head shaved (no aftercare) and then was confused why i wouldn’t speak to him

28. did i mention he snores? did i also mention i get MAYBE an hour of sleep if i spend the night because its so bad??

29. tries to convince me not to make him use a condom

30. threw a fit one time bc a vinnie hacker edit came up on my phone so, in retaliation, he decided to look at thirst traps and sexual audios on tiktok for half an hour. i told him it was making me uncomfortable and told him to stop about six times and he only did when i threatened to leave.

31. would call me princess after i specifically told him NOT to do that.

32. beer pong with a bunch of his frat brothers is apparently a ‘date’ in his eyes…

33. didn’t acknowledge me at a party we were both attending until his buddy basically told him i wasn’t gonna keep pursuing him lmao

34. got so shit faced at the bar that he kept telling his frat brothers “isn’t she so pretty” “god im with the prettiest girl in (insert city name) right now” “im about to post her on my story” “should i buy her flowers” and i was so uncomfortable that i almost left the bar. (i had told him i wasn’t looking for anything serious and that pda made me uncomfortable)

35. he deadass chugged nyquil in front of me “to help him sleep”

36. has roaches in his bathroom (frat house)

37. refuses to smoke weed but will do 6 lines easy peasy???

38. not smart

39. thinks he can manipulate me (he can’t and it drives him crazy that i don’t fall for it)

40. asked me to find someone (female) to have a threesome with us (every inquiry made the same face before saying “no thanks”)

41. He hyper sexualizes my attraction to women

42. asked me if i’d block every guy in my phone for him (we had been talking for two weeks)

43. he’s an asshole to his dog and calls him mean names and hits his snout and shoves him around

44. he is persistent on trying to get me to blow him (i don’t do blowjobs. he knows this. still tries.)

45. he blew $160 gambling at the bar the night we went out 💀

46. he’s younger than me and extremely immature

47. he thinks listening to chief keef is an unheard of personality trait. (“i know all of the lyrics to Love Sosa” okay, so do 9 million other people)

Dude i could go on and on about this mf he’s WEIRD.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

HIII

Could you please make a sub felix and femdom reader kinda similar to the club one (I hope Ik which one I mean😭) but with the members reaction at the end?

Like for example if y/n and felix fucked in his dorm but the others members heard it all??🤭🤭 and write like their reactions and stuff?💙

Please🫣

Needy Baby

pairing: felix x reader

summary: he doesn't know how you do it, doesn't know how you've managed to have such an effect on him but it makes him wanna do horrible, horrible things. or better yet, let you do horrible, horrible things.

warnings: sub felix, dom reader, gn reader, fingering (felix recieving), dacryphilia (heavy in this), exhibitionism (again, heavy), wanting to be caught, lowk an orgy at the end (kind of?), masturbating (of various kinds), minsung, kinda implied seungmin and i.n., possibly more

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i'd like to preface this by saying that i'm actually so sorry about how long this took to come out-it got buried in my inbox and i only saw it when i decided to go through them all, but anyway, it's here now so i hope you enjoy!

this also isn't proofread but hopefully will be soon enough when i find the energy to do so :p

“Tell me what you want, Lixie,” he shivers, with your breath fanning over his skin, your words in his ear.

He can hardly stand it.

Hardly stay sane.

Especially since your barely alone, on the cusp of being right out in the fucking open.

“Please…” he whines again, for what feels like the tenth time in a row, over and over again, wishing for more, wishing for everything you could give him.

His friends are right outside the room. The door is cracked open and the walls paper-thin.

He's sure they can hear him. Sure that they know what's going on in here, know that their bandmate is getting his brain fucked out by his girlfriend in the next room over.

"Please,"

And he doesn't care.

They can come watch for all he cares, the thought makes him feel even hotter; the idea of them watching you ruin him, make him cry and beg and plead.

Call him pathetic and needy, a little slut who likes to get off while his friends all watch.

And he can't help but notice that the sound of the TV, that was so obviously on before has gone silent.

"Come on, tell me one more time. Just one more. I need to make sure that I really know what you want."

Touch him, claim him, devour him. Bite him, mark him, make him cry out your name until his voice is a rasp and his throat aches.

He's too far gone to care, too far gone to want anything else than the hand that's just barely ghosting over his dick.

"Do anything, anything at all~, I need you, I need it, I ne-"

You pinch his nipple, rolling it between your thumb and forefinger, licking down the side of his neck along the freckles with intent; his mouth all but falls open in a silent scream.

He can't do this, god he can't do this.

He'll go insane. He'll lose his mind.

With the warm wet feeling of your tongue gliding along his neck, nibbling on his collarbone, sucking a mark there before moving to the next patch of skin that'll be laid victim to your lust.

With the position you're in, your back against the headboard, his against your chest.

Your legs are hooked over his, pulling them apart.

His body, completely bare as your hand leaves teasing brushes all over his inner thighs and cock; the other one's having its own fun in giving him shockwaves of pleasure by tugging on his sensitive buds, relishing in the noises he makes in reply, in the way he shoves his chest toward your hand whenever you teasingly pull away

"Needy baby," you croon into his ear and he melts into your skin, into your warmth, into the solid form of your body curled around him. "Be specific," your teeth nip at his earlobe, "tell me exactly what you want."

It's like every little thing you do sets him off so easily, every touch an electric shock of sensitivity that has him gasping and reeling for a breath to calm his dizzying head.

It ruins him all the more when he remembers the door, the crack and the way you've seemed to position him, presented completely bare and open to anyone who would happen to walk in.

"Tell me."

Shit, he could cry from the way you're talking to him. He could probably cum from that alone.

"U-um,"

His hiccupy gasps bounce around the room, much too loud for anyone outside to not hear anything.

"I-I want,"

Your hand? Your mouth? Your thigh? He doesn't know, he doesn't know, he wants it all, wants everything you can give him, he can take all of it. He will take all of it, if it means you'll finally just fucking touch him.

Your fingers leave his chest, running over his collarbone and neck and jaw to lift his chin, forcing his neck sideways so that he can look back at you.

He waits expectantly, for you to do anything, for a kiss or a tease or another reminder to speak up.

"Lixie," Your tone is sharp but also soft; demanding but also suggesting; forcing but coaxing. He doesn't know how you do it, doesn't know how it has such an effect on him but it makes him wanna do horrible, horrible things. Or better yet, let you do horrible, horrible things. "You wanna hear what I want?"

He feels his head nodding, sees your smile growing, watches the desire simmer in your eyes.

Knuckles drag along his cheek with nothing but overdone faux gentleness, like he's glass and you don't want to break him.

Like you're not about to ruin him.

The calm before the storm he supposed.

Before you finally tell him what you want, "I want to make you cry." Suddenly your hand is caressing his throat. "I want to make you beg," it loosely wraps around, your thumb brushing over his pulse point. "And I want to make you plead." You can feel his heart race under your fingertips. "I want your eyes all glassy and wide, trembling as I make you go completely dumb."

"I-" His voice is shaky, panted out with that crinkle between his eyebrows that tells you he's paying more attention to the hand wrapped around his throat that he wants to admit. "W-why?" He doesn't really care for the answer. He's turned on enough knowing that you want him like that. That you want this just as much if not more than him even. He'd rather shut up and let you hurry along but he can tell you want him to play into your theatrics. You want him to play pretend.

"I can't help myself." He gasps when your other hand grabs onto his hips, blunt nails digging into his skin, leaving crescent marks in their wake as you flip him over and press him into the mattress. "When you look helpless and needy like that, just like you are now," He doesn't know how he looks now, he doesn't know if he wants to know but if the sight makes your eyes darken with lust like it does, well then hell he'll do anything to recreate it.

"I want you to depend on me. I want you to need me."

His hair fans around his head like a halo, just like the pretty little angel he is. "You're just so pretty and you look so sad, I just wanna comfort you and hold you, keep you all to myself."

Your hand squeezes ever so slightly around his neck, restricting his breathing ever so slightly that his mouth falls open with laboured pants-partially played up just for the sake of your pupils dilating. Your jaw clenches, eyes sweeping hungrily along his trembling lips before you're leaning in, nose brushing along the line of his jaw, warm breath against his skin that makes him sigh in bliss, fingers twitching with a want to touch you.

You beat him to it though. “Can I touch you, angel? Please, pretty pretty please?” Your breathing is heavy, raspy

He doesn't know why you're asking, why when you already know the answer.

He's your's. Your's to play with and touch and tease and torture to your hearts content. If you want him to squirm-he'll squirm. If you want him to beg-he'll beg. If you want him to cry...you know it all too well that he'll cry, just for you.

"Pretty, pretty please angel? Let me feel you, make you feel so, so good." Your voice is soft like silk, honeyed and candied to hide the venom sinking into his skin, infecting him until every part of his body feels like it's on fire. "I'll find that spot that makes your back arch and your eyes roll back, you want that?"

If you want him to play into your little game, he'll gladly play it. Swallowing heavily, throat bobbing against your grip. “Y-yes, please.”

So you do. You finally, finally do more than a brush of your hand.

You let go of his throat and a high needy whine escapes his lips, silenced nearly immediately by your fingers pressing against his taint, toying around his rim, "you want me here?"

He gasps, sharp and quick and the noise sounds all too loud against the silence in the room-and what if the others heard him-and what if they're sitting on the other side of the door now, watching him, wising they coul-

"Baby?" Your fingers pinch his thigh, ripping a moan from his lungs.

"Yes! Yes please!"

You smile, soothing over the spot. "Aww, such a good boy, with such good manners." Reaching over him to the nightstand, you pull out a bottle of lube before cracking it open and pouring some over your fingers.

You warm it up before you touch him, well, because you're not that mean-not yet anyway.

His gasp rings through the room when you press a finger into him. A high moan escaping his open lips, out the door and to the main area of the dorms where the rest of the boys are but you pay that no mind, dragging your fingers against his clenching walls, feeling around for that spot that'll make him gasp.

You don't care if they hear. Don't care if they watch. You know he doesn't mind either, if that desperate look in his eye has anything to say, emotions glinting as he glances at the door then back at you-hopeful and then disappointed.

As if every time he looks over he hopes that he'll see one of them, staring back at him.

And if the way the others have gotten suspiciously quiet outside, you don't think that'll take very long.

"Want the others to walk in Lix? Want them to come in and watch?" He moans wantonly, legs spreading open to invite your touch further. His body shudders with pleasure at the mere thought of the others watching him, their eyes envious. Not knowing if they'd rather be Felix, getting ruined and pulled apart by you; or you, inflicting it all. "Want them to touch?" 

You press a second finger into him, quickening the speed, lips brushing against his skin as he nods, quick and desperate as the muscles of his legs clench and unclench, nearly spasming against your hips.

"I-i want them so bad! I-i-" his mouth is dry. His head is foggy with the idea. With your touch. With the door a crack fucking open, inviting the other inhabitants of the dorm inside. "I-i!"

And then your hand is on his throat again.

His voice cracks, breaking off into a sob as you find his prostate, fingertips grazing the spot, teasing before adding a third finger and thrusting right against it.

Hard, fast, going at a pace that he can’t nearly wrap his head around as much as let out noises akin strangled animal; grasping at your shoulders, pawing down at your wrist, pleading for you to go faster and faster and faster. 

Reaching up to his throat. His gaze meeting yours in a clash of pleasure and desperation and want and need before pulling at your hand and lacing your fingers with his.

Your gaze softens, your heart melts and he blinks. Once, twice and then he can’t help but give you exactly what you want.

His eyes first grow glossy, eyelashes fluttering as if to try to hold them back. It's a futile battle. You both know that he gets so sensitive so quickly and can't hold it back. But like he said...you like a show.

You breath.

He sniffles.

Tears like liquidized crystal prick at his eyes, one, then two, then more following down the ridges and slopes of his pretty face, creating tracks of tear stains as your heart races in your chest.

His quiet cries fill the room and it drives something inside you crazy, feral, heat filling every crevice of your body.

Something inside of you sings to see him like this, and you don't even realize you've moved at all until he's letting out a watery gasp and your hand is squeezing his harder, pressing it into the sheets and your pace gets faster, and you hit his prostate head on with deadly precision each time, abusing it over and over with your fingertips and-and-

and you're leaning in and licking up his tears, the salt clinging to your tastebuds as he sobs and squirms, unable to keep still with the way that you touch him so maddeningly.

Your tongue is hot, wet, dizzying as it drags across his skin, the sensation paired with the soft press of your lips as you kiss over his freckles too and the brutal insistence of your fingers.

You lave love and affection and utter adoration with every movement and it only makes the tears come faster, makes his lighter, fuzzier.

You add a third finger and he feels everything inside of him shatter.

"-Stop! You can't, I'm-I-I'll"

"-You'll what?" You coo, and you pout like you feel bad for him, like this isn't driving you insane with lust. Like this isn't making you want to fuck his brains out even more. "You'll cum? Put on a pretty show for all your friends?"

He nods helplessly with a small whimper, head much too surrendered into the blissful haze of something far beyond him. Lube drips lewdly down your fingers and onto the sheets as you slow your pace, dragging frustrated huffs from his pretty, perfect lips.

"Words baby,"

He doesn't reply, only whines.

And you can only watch on with hungry eyes as he clumsily attempts to fuck himself to make up for the lost stimulation.

He's unused to it as many times as you've done this, used to sitting back and letting you do the work, it pulls breathless gasps from him at the new experience, at how much exertion it takes to make his hips roll and buck and his ass greedily sucks your fingers deep inside of him.

The noises pouring from his mouth are obscene and fervid, high and ringing loudly off the walls. "Yes-" he breathes, mewling "fuck, yes. Want to-...want them, want..."

He trails off and you can only continue off the barely there thought but you know him much too well to not know where he was going. "Want them rubbing their dicks to you? Your pathetic little moans and whines-gonna cum for me and cum for them too?"

His chest falls up and down, up and down. His nails dig into the flesh of your hand and with no other warnings his mouth his falling open, back bowing up into an arch as he shoots ropes of cum all over his stomach and chest.

"Fuck~"

---

It had been Han to lower down the volume on the TV when he first heard something.

A moan.

Desperate and ruined.

It was Seungmin to glare at him, eyebrows furrowing at his blatant pervertedness.

It had been Minho to raise a brow at him, snatching the remote from Han to hold it out as an offering to him-a challenge.

The words silent but a scream all it once in his eyes.

'You want to turn it down? Do it yourself.'

Seungmin stared at it as another moan came from the door-it wasn't even fucking closed the whole way.

"Fucking pervs," he'd muttered but if he'd really felt that way he would've taken the remote.

Minho looked around at the others and the others looked at him.

And he slowly set the remote down on the coffee table, open to anyone who had the willpower to turn the volume back up.

It was, surprisingly, Jeongin who grabbed the remote and turned it off completely.

And as of now the living room is dead silent as the entirety of the dorms goes quiet as well, Felix's moans ceasing to halt.

Hyunjin is the first to speak, shifting in place from where he sits on the couch, his face is red to pair with the white-knuckled grip he has on a pillow as he presses it over his lap. "We all heard that right? I'm not just hearing things?"

He only recieves blank stares in return, as if his mind could conjure such things up.

As if it isn't obvious the way that he subtly grinds up against the pillow on his lap but no one comments. Not any of the rest of them fare much better.

Han sits on Minho's lap. Desperately dryhumping against him with his face tucked into Minho's neck as his hand grips into his hair.

It's clear that he's trying to be quiet as possible despite Han's teeth dragging over his throat and quick sharp thrusts he delivers. But the quiet ragged gasps have slowly risen in volume since Hyunjin's spoken and their little show in the other room has ended. Compared to his counterpart, he sounds composed though, Han lets out ruined whines between gasps, getting higher and needier with ever second that passes by.

The two had never been shy of PDA among their friends but this was much further than the sensual but short kisses or the teasing smack on the ass.

No one was complaining though.

Changbin shamelessly palms himself over his pants. He lets his eyes slip shut as he slowly lets his hands unbutton his tight jeans, sighing when his hand dips under the waistband of his boxers.

He can feel the eyes of the others on him, feel the particular hunger for him to pull down his boxers so he can stroke himself out in the open but he doesn't. He'll leave a little something to the imagination as he groans loudly, letting his head fall back onto the cushions of the couch, the muscles in his arms flexing as he throbs.

Seungmin and Jeongin sit next to each other on the opposite couch, a shared blanket over them from earlier. Before all of this.

They glance at each other once, twice before they're silently moving, quietly leaving the room together without so much as looking at any of the others.

The sound of a door clicking shut at the end of the hall is the only thing heard.

And Chan, their leader, only stares in the direction of Felix's door, trying to ignore the raging boner he doesn't even bother to hide.

His hair still slightly wet from an earlier shower now rests in untamed curls, hanging over his forehead as he turns away from the others, hiding a raging blush on his cheeks.

Should they have left? Put earbuds in or turned the volume on the TV loud to drown out the noise of their friend?

Perhaps.

But did they?

No.

No they did not.

And did any of them regret it?

...

a/n: ngl this was kinda hard to write for the part with the other's reactions but i'm hoping that it's okay😭

lmk what you thought and my taglist is here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @missrobyn81, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteer, @hahagay, @maru-matt, @d7dream, @amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix, @gwithoutv, @abcdefgiwsmcty, hoping i got everyone rn i'm probably gonna make a more organized vers of my taglist soon

[freakenomenon]

teds genuine obsession with ellen needs to be talked about more actually. like everyone waters it down to either just him being insane or just being misogynistic and lowkey racist but there is. so much more to it than that. swear to god everytime he goes on a rant he never hops off this womans PEEEEEEEENISSS. the dick eating is insane and i need it to be discussed. there is never a moment where ellens name is not in his mouth and it drives me insane. specifically for the games iteration, this is likely because of his sexual trauma with women. its not an excuse to become the abuser, but it is an explanation. people dont just BECOME like ted overnight. never ever is mental illness an excuse to be as horrible as ted is to ellen, but its still like. essential to his character to realize that hes not all just rainbows and calling computers daddy. hes actively like. a creep. its kind of insane to me how while in the same breath of , not acknowledging her achievements , dehumanizing her to the point of only seeing her as either a sex object or someone to be saved for his own satisfaction , BASHING her for being used as a sex object when HE ( and the other 2 , i am not counting benny simply because his loss of bodily autonomy and ability to think straight is not his fault at all ) IS THE ONE PERPETUATING THAT SYSTEM , and overall just treating her like an object to be used in GENERAL. he. puts her on some kind of pedestal. like some kind of saving grace, salvation. acts as if shes choosing to be nice to him because she loves him. my nigga shes afraid of you get the phallus off your TONGUE.

[coolprettyleo]

obsessed with your ex? - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 650+

tw: toxicity? obsessive. mention of sex. stalking?

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was four in the morning and you couldn't sleep. your thoughts were running wild as the six foot three man was laying sound asleep next to you. you were staying over his place tonight and what was supposed to be an easy going night turned into a nightmare; for you at least.

you had opened your instagram to find that jurajs ex had followed you, and commented on her recent instagram post, how you slayed the photo dump you posted on your recent trip to Milan.

I mean his ex didn't mean to get in your brain. you had finally met the girl, about a couple weeks ago at a brand dinner seeing as you were both models. you had been professional with her. but since you guys had many mutual friends the ex seemed to be trying to befriend her.

oh my god I wonder if she was friends with jurajs friends? did she know arber like you know him?

was she good in bed?

does he still think about her?

was she easy going?

every controlling?

well traveled?

well read?

all these thoughts made you want to scream into your pillow and die. something you couldn't do because you were at your boy friends house, sleeping in his bed on a side that was now 'your side' but you knew it was once hers.

when you met the ex about two nights ago you had to act like you didn't know every little thing about her, when you did. you knew everything about her, from her star sign to her fucking blood type.

you felt insane. you were honestly borderline of psycho. you were so obsessed with jurajs ex and everything about her was making you so upset.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the boy next to you move.

"why are you still awake" jury asked seeing her stare up into the ceiling. he moved to wrap his arms around her and pull her in, trying to to comfort his girlfriend.

what were you supposed to say to him? I'm up thinking about your ex? that im fucking obsessed with her? he would think I was her freaking best friend with how much I would want to talk about her and ask him.

and it wasn't like there wasn't anything I could complain about too, anyways. she was an angel, who was perfect. my friends would even tell me she talked so nicely about me. she was the life of every party and had these perfect hips with the most perfect lips. god you sounded like you were in love with her.

he had once told you that she hated flying so she would take melatonin when they would go visit his family with him back home, and you've never forgotten that detail about her.

"y/n" jurajs voice rasped again.

"what did you call me?" y/n exclaimed sitting up moving away from him. she could of swear he said HER name.

"your name?" juraj said slowly, beyond confused. he loved you so much and the last thing he would of thought was wrong with his girlfriend in the middle of the night, was that you couldn't stop thinking about his ex. he doesn't even speak to her anymore and he loves you with his whole heart.

you looked at him, studying his face for any lie. he wasn't. you felt so obsessed and you knew it was crazy upon repair, but you couldn't help it for some reason.

"alright what's wrong. did I do something" he says sitting up and turning on the nightstand lamp.

you felt horrible. he looked exhausted and he needed his sleep, he had games coming up and he had practice in about five hours.

"no-" you sighed looking at his soft eyes urging you to go on.

"-its just" you stumbled upon how to word your next choice of words.

"you can tell me" he said rubbing your back and kissing your shoulder.

"im obsessed with your ex"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

omg this is my first non au right and also like no oc character. if its cringe lmk! I like feedback. also this is based of an edit I saw on tiktok!! goodnight loves!!

[weaselthing]

OKAY REMADE RAINFOREST FLOODS INTRO POST. YOU WANT TO LEARN SO BAD

rainforest floods is an ocverse made by me and @jamescarpenterhooper. its about a waterpark in new mexico and all the horrible people and circumstances it has born witness to. oooo you want to click the read more button so bad PLEASE IM BEGGING

i'll try to keep this as brief as i can so as not to waste your valuable time but just know theres so much i wont be covering here.

rainforest floods is the name of a waterpark that was established in 1971, but dont let that fool you! theres been shit going on for sooo many years beforehand. meet these freaks

^these are the founders of rainforest floods! i dont know how exactly to explain it. patrick and joanna are married. patrick and phillip have had an affair going on for over ten years. which happens to be about as long as patrick and joanna have been married. how strange. anyway

IMPORTANT: for some fucking reason patrick sets a curse on the park that makes it unable to close. KEEP THIS IN MIND FOR LATER BECAUSE IT IMPACTS A LOOOT.

patrick has a favorite little guinea pig among his employees whom he has been trying to teach how to run the park because one day he wont be able to run it anymore. and eventually when 1976 rolls around she gets the chance to do so!

SUUUUUUUUUUE you love her. she takes over the park in 1976 and manages it until 1990. shes a little bit my favorite. she actually does a much better job of managing the park!

but things cant be great forever. in the year 1986 something a little bit crazy happens. one of her employees, bruce krelborn (remember him), is a lifeguard at rff during the summer. just before closing on august 7th, a young woman (remember her too) comes to the park to go on one of the waterslides. but there arent any rafts!!!! oh no!!!! so bruce goes to ask sue about getting more rafts but sues like Um its fine.that doesnt matter.

so then the woman goes down the slide and she gets flung off and dies because she didnt have a raft. and then sues like OKAY.WELL YOU HAVE TO COVER THIS UP NOW. BURY HER RIIIGHT HERE. so he does. and the death is still covered up to this day. surely this will have no long term consequences.

(also semi important to note: sue had a weird favoritism thing with bruce in a similar way that patrick had a weird favoritism thing with her. #cycles)

in 1990 sue decides shes done with this shit and tries to burn the park down and get out of dodge. but unfortunately THE CURSE prevents the park from actually being destroyed. so it looks completely burned from the outside but on the inside its pretty much fine. awesome!

in 2004 two shitheads decide to start the park up again. THEY DONT LOOK LIKE THIS YET I JUST DONT WANT TO PUT IN THEIR 30S IMAGE

"hey bruce krelborn?? that name sounds awfully familiar" YES that is because just a few paragraphs ago he was the lifeguard that had to cover up that poor womans death! he's back now! and also hes like mean and jaded or whatever. the faggot on the right also worked at rainforest floods in the 80s but he wasnt involved in that at all and he is completely oblivious to the fact the coverup is going on despite the fact that one of his employees is the ghost of the woman that died.

also bruce and andy have horrible awful toxic yaoi together and theyre also not dating or anything. what do you get when you combine "insane need for control" (bruce) and "insane need for validation" (andy). and dont say macdennis because thats different. barely.

WAIT WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT THE GHOST??

THIS IS KELSEY shes so awesome oh my god. she cant leave rainforest floods its part of ghost logic. trust me when i say she would leave if she was able to. her and bruce have crazy insane dynamic. when bruce first started reopening rff kelsey didnt recognize him. but he recognized her but didnt tell her he did. so they were actually friends for a little bit before kelsey found out it was the same guy. and now shes mad at him.

THE THING IS kelsey could probably find it in her heart to forgive him. but the thing thats keeping her a ghost is the unfinished business that came from her death being covered up. and shes so scared of actually dying that she cant let go because what if thats the thing keeping her around. LOL.

-> LEARN MORE ABOUT HER HERE. PLEASE READ THSI <-

ok theres like two other employees they dont matter as much

yay jeff and vincent. jeff is normal vincent is Weird. theyre kinda like pim and charlie smiling friends if charlie thought pim was stupid and annoying and pim was a little conspiracy freak. theyre fun i like them. theyre the only ones we're not THAT worried about doing themes and motifs with and even then.

onto side characters now.

^this is kelseys love interest aww. she doesnt have a name dont call her anytihng call her [REDACTED] or unnamed girl. its spoilers. dont worry about it. shes crazyyyy love her. its fun bc she dresses 80s inspired and kelsey died in the 80s so its like wooaahh

and thats [REDACTED]'s brother kyle who is always getting tormented by the staff at rff. he is cursed so that no one outside of his family will ever remember him so its not like they have a vendetta against him theyre all just freaks.

GINGERRRRR she's jeff's girlfriend and shes awesome. her and jeff do bits together theyre funny silly. theyre also kinda high school bullies that never got the chance to bully people in high school so theyre just kind of mean. but at least they dont have septic tank yaoi unlike SOME people

IS THAT IT THAT MIGHT BE IT. IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS PLEAPLEASPELAEPLALSPELAS PLEASE GO TO @rainforestfloods ITS OUR COLLABORATIVE TUMBLR BLOG WHERE WE TALK ABOUT THEM AND WE WILL BE ABSOLUTELY JAZZED TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS YOU HAVE ABOUT THEM. PLEASE.

okay bye thats it i hope im not forgetting anything. ooooh you wanna go to waterpark soooo baaaadd

[nyxi-pixie]

Hiiiii.

Sorry to bother you, I wanted to know if you had any fic recs? Your writing is so good and your tastes are immaculate, and I am starving for any kind of good content. Please?

its not possible to bother me love dw <3

NOW. i dont actually read all that much anymore bc i am horrendously picky but this does give me an excuse to hype up the few authors that have satisfied my unreasonably specific tastes 🤩.

so. a few bsd recs for you (except theyre 99% skk because im horribly predictable forever). everyone go read all of these and tell the authors how wonderful they are in the comments please <3

anything @booksandpaperss has ever written is genius work and everyone should read it. could talk abt all of their stuff for hours (and i have🤩 they put up w so much of me bothering them godbless). also our brains do some accidental crazy mind melding shit whenever either of us write fic so if you like any of my stuff you will like theirs. thats the rules. <3

like twin stars in the dark (we collide)- dead apple skk porn as a vehicle for 22skk analysis. makes me salivate i have read it so many times. they get 22skk better than anyone🙏

my lies are for you to keep (my love for you to lose) - the only take on beastskk that matters to me ever. you can actually see me losing my mind in the comment i wrote on this fic bc of how fucking insane every single line made me. theres SO much packed into this thing its fucking crazy i NEEEEED everyone to read it. thats all <3

till death, I'll give you my breath - dazai death timeloop. this fic terrifies me so much i await every update with my teeth chattering and my heart pulsing so rapidly i should be hospitalised. the first scene of chapter 2 genuinely had me on the verge of tears im unwell about it.

(elli also has some jjk stuff thats REALLYREALLY good and if ur into jjk u should check that out too.)

NOW. aside from being a propaganda machine for my fav writer ever. Heres some other stuff i love.

the second perspective by @wildflowerteas. murder mystery/detective noir stuff w some time fuckery. the au of all time. mashes aspects of beast, canon, and some extra special niko sauce into a mixing bowl and goes crazy w it. just Such a genuinely impressive piece of writing. i could talk abt the technical brilliance of it for hours but i will stop myself. you gotta commit to this thing because it WILL make u crazy. also i loveee the sskk. its like if we had the beast first meeting sskk forever. SOSO GOOD!!!!

did fate guide the gun or did you? by @kanetheo. i read this pretty soon after chapter 109 and it genuinely fried my brain for months. the writing style is beautiful (as for everything they write AUGHH!!!) and the angst is delectable. the way it intersperses more fun silly skk moments with just. complete misery. GOD. it just hits. ive reread it quite a few times and it never fails to make me go crazy. srsly cannot rec this enough.

the decomposition of dazai osamu by @hella1975 this shot several bullets through my brain and i still havent recovered. i keep thinking 'oh i should reread that' and then i dont bc some part of my brain still concerns itself w maintaining whats left of my sanity. BUT its crazy good and everyone should read it and suffer at least once. EVERYONE LOVES YOU OSAMU!!!! EVERYONE EATS YOU!!! line of all time lets all kill ourselves.

smoke held conversations by feralrookie - i havent reread this in a while but it does cool stuff with nlh and the skkisms are really good in this too. ppl often write teen chuuya as less intelligent than he actually is. hes very observant, esp of dazai, and this fic gave me that 🙏

i called your name til the fever broke by forest_raccoon - vampire chuuya. biting is involved. i blacked out reading it. enough said.

[shoezuki]

i think silvermane guards are very very protective of gepard and they don't even try to hide this like if someone says any shit about gepard they would be like, just instantly go into defensive mode and just shut them up. They definitely dont play about him and every one of them so grateful towards the man who constantly stands tall between the endless enemy and them,even the most old/veteran ones, like he is just like a little fucked up son for them

Actually i was going insane thinking about the relationship between gepard and his comrades THEY ARE JUST A SECOND FAMILY FOR HIM UGGGGGGGHHH

oh my god yes yes absolutely i think bout the silvermane culture n gepards relationships w em So Much like.

i imagine when he first started riding up the ranks, super young and how as landau it was very much just Expected he would become the captain, that silvermanes were much more. sour with him. but hes Genuine. hes a captain that cares bout the guards and the people and he is right there at the frontlines and facing the fragmentum with them. he makes sure they are okay after it all and actually visits the wounded and checks up on them. its a mixture of bonds being forged when your life is on the line together but also just how unwavering and Present that gepard is as a captain in a way that is more than just. being tactical and resourceful. beyond maybe some old retired bastards who resented gepard rising the ranks quickly ahead of them you know the silvermanes LOVE his ass.

i imagine the decorum and concept of ranks that are rigid in the city are somewhat thrown out the window in the restricted zone or outside the city. like gepard ignores when some of the guards smuggle booze to the outposts as long as he gets a shot or two and they play boardgames and card games on rare nights that they arent dog tired (they let gepard win poker still). New guards get the memo quickly on the vibes when the older dudes are like 'yep thats gepard our captain we would all die for him (dont let him hear you say that he doesnt like when we talk like that)' and gepard is all PLEASE dont do that. theres weird superstitions around gepard like if he wakes up and gets out of his tent even a minute past 6am it's going to be a horrible day. gepard is always putting on a strong front and conscious of his guards wellbeing even when he's coked up on sleep deprivation but the guards know when hes not gotten enough sleep and try to coax him into resting. often when theres nothing too pressing theyll ask gepard to spar and try to knock him out literally because thatll work right? but nope even when Gepard has bags under his eyes and looks like shit he clobbers everyone.

its just. silvermanes have often been seen as dispensable and i mean sure they often die young and those that live to get old have their own scars but its worth it to protect the city right? but gepard Does care about the silvermanes too. a lot. he knows them all by name even when they are all wearing the same helmets and are indistinguishable and he often takes part in training new guards even though its technically not his job. the guards all feel the same way for him too yknow

[starluvsx]

★𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

proofread: yeaaa

word count:4k(lol plz send help)

WARNINGS: pt2 of jealous girl, toxic!Chris, smut but like for the plot yk, p in v, dick suckin, unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex kids😁👍), praise and degrading, crying, mentions of possible cheating, reader talks about being insecure, swearing, pet names, reader is def not standing on business.

A/N:here u gooo @urfavstromboli !this is too long holy shit.the smut part was so strange to write bc like I don't really like writing smut but I had to for like the story.also im sorry this took so long to makes started working on it right after pt1 and just forgot it was in my drafts LMAOOOO. also peep the special banner(I couldn't find any good lyrics).ok ill stop yappin and let you read.

𖦹 𖦹

✧SATURDAY

my heart beat sped up as I slammed the door in Chris' face.never being this upset with him in my life. I mean I never really thought he would choose another girl over me.Especially not one that has problems with me for no apparent reason. As I broke down into sobs I pulled out my phone and ironically called Nick, Chris' brother, knowing he would comfort me.

"Hey what's up?Did Chris apologize?" Nick asked through the phone.Once my crying was heard I think he got the hint of what had happened though.

"Can you uh..can you come over please really just... need someone right now."I stifled out as I paced around my living room.too many yet not enough thoughts running through my head.

"yea of course, do you want me to grab anything on the way?"Nick questioned sympathetically. I only responded with a small 'the usual' before we promptly said goodbye and I hung up.

✧NICKS POV

I heard the front door open as I shuffled down the stairs,Chris huffing and puffing as he stepped into my view. "How'd it go?"I asked even though I already knew how it went.I wanted to see if he would lie to me.

"horrible, its not even my fault though, shes acting like an insane bitch and is trying to make me choose between her and ash.fucking stupid.she needs to get over herself." Chris spat out.i was shock at his words about a girl who he used to love so much.the only time he talked about her behind her back was when he was saying how pretty she looked or how kind she way or how funny she could be.all of those feeling were now replaced by cold, rude, bullshit.

"don't talk about her like that, dickhead." I retorted.yes he's my brother and I'll love him no matter what but there is no way I would let him talk about her in such a way.especially when I knew that wasn't what he was like at all.

"what?! How am I the dickhead?" he yelled out as I turned my body to Matt's room in order to ask if he could drive me to y/n's.rolling my eyes and choosing to ignore the boy who had very clearly lost it.

"Can you drive me to y/n's?"I asked while poking my head into Matt's dark room. a small 'yea sure' being the answer as he got up from his desk.walking back into the kitchen area I was met with an angered Chris. God he was acting like such a child.

"don't ignore me,"he slightly shouted. "If I'm really a dick then there must be a reason!" my youngest brother said, looking at me soullessly.

"you literally were flirting with Ashley the other day, didn't  say anything when she insulted your girlfriend, when y/n confronted you about it you don't even care, and then when she asked you to make the very reasonable decision of either her or Ashley you get all pissed and start calling her an insane bitch, so yea I think that makes you a dick."I rambled on frustrated.

Chris didn't say anything before I walked toward the front door.or maybe he was going to but just didn't because of the situation.either way I don't think he really needed to say anything else.as I was getting my shoes on I could faintly hear Matt say "I know your my brother but if you hurt her anymore after today I'll kick your ass." which was followed up by my silence and footsteps towards Chris' room.

Matt huffed as he walked down the stairs and walked out the door to his car with me.Once we got in the car we both sighed deeply. "He's so stupid sometimes."Matt breathed out as he started the car and began to back out of the driveway.

"seriously, also we need to stop by the gas station."I replied.even though I was going to her house in order to comfort her and hopefully make her realize he's not treating her well and that she should just leave I know it would be to no avail.shes a hopeless romantic and there not much I can do about it.

✧YOUR POV

tears sprung out of my eyes like frogs with no hesitation. “Please please please let me get what I want” by deftones playing on my speaker. I looked into the mirror across from my bed as I laid on my side, locking eyes with my own reflection.I slowly picked my body up and now simply sat on my bed.still staring at myself intently.

I found myself simultaneously messing with different parts of my body and face.silently wishing they would morph to look like Ashley.she was perfect.the perfect weight,perfect skin,flawless makeup, model like hair.no wonder why Chris didn't mind her being on top of him.he probably wanted people to think that was his girlfriend.not me.why would anyone wanna be seen with me anyways.

The doorbell ringing for the second time this night broke me out of my thoughts.I slowly brought myself to my feet and dragged myself to the front door.as I opened It I was met with a sympathetic looking Nick holding a gray bag. "hey girl..."he slowly said.

I'm not sure if it was just my brain trying to distract me or what but I couldn't help but notice he had dyed his hair red again. "your hair...its not blonde anymore..."I quietly said.my words making Nick smile

"Yeah I know, just kinda felt like another change, i don't know.do you like it?"he questioned.

"I love it, looks really cool man.''I answered, tired eyes looking at him and realizing he was still outside. "oh shit sorry"I said while moving out of the way. as he stepped into my house I made eye contact with Matt who had most likely been waiting for Nick to go into my house.I waved to him with a small smile as he reciprocated through his car window.

I sighed heavily as I shut the door.remembering what happened earlier. "Okay so I got you red bull, skinny pop, oreos, mints and Lindt chocolate, oh and I got nerds for myself, you can have some though."Nick said once he walked over to my kitchen table, placing the items on said table as he listed them.I don't know how he remembers what I like to eat when I'm sad but this does happen a lot I guess.

I put my head in my hands and let out a deep breath.trying to unwind somehow.a ping was then heard from across the table.i knew it was Nick because my phone had been left upstairs. "Oh God, look who it is."Nick said as he turned his phone to face me. it was Ashley.she had sent him something on snap.

'half swipe it."I said as I made my way around the table, peering over his shoulder to see his screen.

"I don't know how."he responded, panicking.

"Just pull it from the left." I tried to explain.my help wasn't very useful though because he opened it instead. 'Are you mad at me?' read the message "is she fucking stupid.of course your mad at her?"

"She is stupid, that's why she looks like that.im just gonna say no to see what she says."the boy next to me said as he typed out 'no' followed up by 'why would I be mad at you?'.

she immediately opened the message and began typing "wow I'm surprised she opened that fast, probably cause she has no life."I snakily said as we both watched her bitmoji type.

''Oh bc of what happened with y/n the other day. 'she clarified. He was about to start typing again before she beat him to it. 'yk when she was a psycho bitch for no reason' was the next message. "psycho bitch?!oh I'll show her a psycho bitch!"I said as I shot up from my leaned over position on the counter. walking angrily towards my front door.

"y/n you are not going to fight her right now, especially not when you look like that.'' Nick reasoned as he set his phone down. "just forget about her.she's just an irrelevant cunt that has nothing better to do with her life but hate." the red-head said.

he was right.i don't know why I cared what she thought.but when I really think about it,I don't.i couldn't give less then a fuck about how she saw me.it was Chris' opinion I cared about.i wanted him to think I was beautiful, funny and kind.i wanted him to think i was perfect.i wanted him to be able to see me over Ashely.

"did Chris say anything about me?"I asked.switching topics to something more relevant in my head. The face he made when I said this made my stomach drop.Mainly because I knew how mean Chris could get at times and considering what had happened earlier tonight I don't think he said anything good.

"Do you want what he should've said or what he did say?"he asked as I made my way back to my previous placement.

"Tell me what he actually said."I answered.feeling like I was taking a leap of faith.but I knew if I wasn't told the truth then I would never have a chance of getting over this man.

"he was all like 'it went horrible, it’s not even my fault though, she’s being an inane bitch and is trying to make me choose between her and ash.she needs to get over herself.'"Nick said, mimicking Chris' voice to make it more light hearted.it was a little funny but the words made my eyes well up with tears nonetheless.

I was feeling so many different things.sadness, anger, stress but most of all betrayal.i mean he said it wasn't even his fault basically saying it was mine.my fault for being upset for a little bit.he would rather call me an insane bitch then just admit he was wrong and stop being friends with Ashley.that fat pig.

"what!?Ugh I hate him so much!!Why do I even like him?He treats me like shit,never listens and is always on top of other girls?!I don't even think I've heard him say he loves me in like 3 months!? do you think he's cheating?oh my God he probably is!"I rambled on.placing my head in my arms at the end of my words.i slowly began to sob into my own arms.once Nick heard my sobs he hugged my hunched over back.

"no don't say that.he's obviously not cheating on you."he reassured.his words didn't do much though because my cries only got louder and more emotional.my best friend ushered me up so he could hug me normally.i pulled away from the hug  once I was able to actually breath.looking up at Nick with tired, sad,eyes.thankful for him being here but also embarrassed for crying over his brother. "wanna watch a movie?" the boy sympathetically asked.i nodded a small yes before I grabbed all my snacks and headed over to the couch.

watching the movie was a good distraction for some time.but nonetheless I found myself thinking of him. how much I missed him and just wishing he was here right now.im not going to apologize though.I did nothing wrong no matter what he thinks.so if that means that we never speak again then I'm fine with that.oh who am I kidding, I'm definitely not fine with that.

✧THE NEXT DAY, SUNDAY

'come over please' and 'I miss you' were the two messages I had been staring at for at least five minutes.the sender being chris made this all the more strange and confusing.i mean he was just calling me an insane bitch yesterday and now he wants me to come over.but for some reason I caved.maybe he wanted to apologize or something.

I threw a zip up over my lace tank top and tied my gray sweatpants.sliding my crocs on as I stepped outside started walking to my car.

Once I began driving I found myself more fidgety in anticipation than what felt like ever before.fingers tapping against the steering wheel rhythmically and constant glancing at the ETA were I knew this.

As I entered the house using my key I felt anxiety rush over me.Matts keys weren't here and neither was Nick's jacket which he never leaves the house without during this time of the year.meaning that it was only the two of us in this house.

My footsteps felt heavy as I walked down to his room.something I had done many times now feeling unfamiliar.I knocked on his bedroom door lightly once I approached it. though as the door was opened I wasn't even aloud a greeting before he placed his hands on my hips and smashed his lips onto mine hungrily.i wish I could say I rejected the kiss but I couldn't.it was like he had put a spell on me.

he walked backwards as we eventually crashed onto his bed.i straddled over his lap as I deepened kiss.he swiftly flipped me over onto my back and moved me so I was sat up a little.i took the hint and unzipped my hoodie, throwing it off to the side while trying my best not to break the kiss.

he then removed my tank top.now revealing my bare chest to him "no bra huh?so you are still my slut." he said as a smirk formed on his lips.

"I was actually about to go to bed but whatever you wanna believe."I retorted.

"do you want me to fuck you or not?"he questioned, looking into my eyes.i stayed silent though.letting the wetness between my legs make my decisions. "that's what I thought."he darkly said. pale arms taking his own shirt off.toned body now all in view for me.

"you know what to do.''was my signal to take my pants off.i undid the tie on my sweats and slid them off.leaving my white laced panties on. "sit up and go on the side of the bed"he demanded.i did as he said.sitting on my knees a on the side of the bed I was closer to.he then came around to the side I was facing.once he was directly in front of me he dropped his baggy jeans and boxers at once, cock springing free.all 8 inches now stood in front of me.his pink tip leaking pre-cum.

I looked up at him innocently.as if I had never done this before.i then, on instinct, began to pump him with my hand slowly.my actions making his breath hitch.i placed my lips on the tip and began to lower my head.pace increasing every time I brought my head up.eventually his hands made their way to my hair and began to push my head into his cock roughly. "fuck just like that.keep going.use that perfect little mouth for something good for once."he harshly spat out looking down at me as he said that.i ignored his words though and continued to suck him off.

This feeling being lost on me for almost a week made my throat sting pleasurably.his grip on my hair tightened which told he was close.the signal making me go faster.if even possible.small whimpers fell from his cherry lips as I continued to work. “Oh God yes,please I’m…I’m almost there”he mumbled out, the words working as encouragement for me to keep going.then without warning I felt his cum shoot itself into my mouth.the salty savory flavor touched my taste buds as I swallowed.

Once he came down from his own high he looked down at me.i kept my eyes on his.looking up like a lost puppy. "fuck your so hot" he said as he grabbed my middle area and situated me on my back and so I was on his bed longways.once he laid down with me he whispered "sit on my lap baby"

I complied and did as he said.placing myself more on his legs then his actual lap because I knew he wouldn't be that easy. "you want me to fuck you?"he asked.i nodded 'yes' in response. looking down at him with pleading eyes even though I was on top right now. "use your words.you had so much to say before, what happened to that?"he teased.

"please chris just fuck me, ive been waiting for days!"I squealed out.thankful there was nobody else home right now. 

"good girl.."he hissed out.his words being my command to lift my hips up and hover over his cock.then without warning he thrusted up into me after lining himself up with my entrance.the sudden feeling making me yelp.he continued to buck his hips up into mine as I bounced simultaneously, placing my fingertips on his chest for some sort of stabilization.

moans that were higher pitched than my actual voice spilled out of my mouth along with swears and small pleads.my body was hot as I went up and down on him.his hands were at my waist, guiding my every move harshly. The pale boy grabbed my waist hard, making me wince at the pleasure mixed with pain.the idea that the boy who I was crying over last night was ramming himself into me right now made me feel guilty.but I can't help it.his touch is intoxicating.

my jaw fell open as pornographic noises flowed from my lips.eyes screwing shut and head being now hung low.i was so caught up in myself that I didn't even register the small whimpers coming from the boy underneath me. The noises being my key to realize he really did miss me.at least a part of me. "keep going baby, don't stop, i'm gonna-"I rambled on before being cut off by my own already familiar noises

"Me too..shit.."he whispered.

"chris fuck fuck fuuuuck"I strung out as I came undone on top of him.laying my body on his as he thrusted up into me again,chasing his own high. Whiny whimpers made their way into my ear as I felt him twitch inside of me.knowing he was close I decided to tease him a little by kissing his neck and leaving a trail of hickeys.my sensitive body not mattering at all to either of us.

"fuck baby" he groaned out as I felt his load shoot into me, coating my insides.we sat there in silence.sweaty bodies catching their breath.once we calmed ourselves he pulled me off him and situated me so I was laying on my side, facing the boy who replicated my current position."lemme get you a towel."he said before promptly getting up, putting his boxers on, and doing as he said.

When he came back and cleaned me up I couldn't help but stare at him.all his features slithering into my eyes. "Can I have a shirt?"I asked softy.not wanting to put my tank top back on because of the temperature.he only hummed an ‘mhm’ before tossing me a random black shirt with a white design on it.

"Can we talk? ''he awkwardly said as we both were now sat up and at least partially clothed. I nodded my head to signify I was listening."listen y/n im...im really sorry about earlier.i was a dick and I shouldn't have acted like that.i know you don't like Ashley and i'm totally fine with dropping her.i would rather lose her then you any day and i'm so sorry if I made you feel otherwise.a-and if your ever upset again don't be afraid to say something cause I promise I won't act like a dick again."he nervously rambled on.

I wish I had it in me to stay mad at him but I couldn't.i know this apology was just so I wouldn't leave him lonely and he would pull something stupid in a few weeks.but I can't help it.i'm in love with him and there's nothing I can do about it.

✧MONDAY MORNING

my eyes screwed shut almost immediately after they fluttered open, the bright sunlight causing this.i turned my head around to the best of my abilities to see if chris was awake and it didn't seem like it. I turned my head back and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. "you're finally awake."Chris said from behind me,startling me a little.

I hummed a small 'mhm' before trying to get up but to my dismay he pulled me back down to my previous spot. "I have to pee."I giggled.

"pee later"he mumbled, pulling me closer if possible.

"yea no thank you"I said before breaking out of his limp arms grasp and standing up to go to the bathroom.taking a mental note of my sore legs from last night.

"I see you limping!"he teased once I got into the bathroom.

"oh fuck off"I lightly shouted back.once I washed my hands I began walking towards his door, the idea of food in mind.

"Where are you going?"he asked from his now sat up place.holding himself up on his elbows.

"I'm hungry"I said while throwing on my sweatpants that had been tossed here last night.

When I got up the stairs Nick turned his head to me.shock and disappointment coated his face. "Okay I thought we agreed you hated him?"he questioned.Keeping his voice low knowing Chris was still in the house.

"ugh I know but he texted me last night and told me to come over and then one thing led to another and...look he apologized."I tried to reason.nick though, was not having any of this.i made my way over to the fridge and grabbed my strawberry smoothie from Thursday that had been left here by accident.Taking a sip from it while I turned around to face my best friend again.

"yea and he apologized last time, and the time before that, and the time before that.you have to let him go y/n.he's not good for you."Nick explained to me.I know he was right but I couldn't just get over him.I wasn't the type of person to just get over stuff like that.

"Well last night seemed genuine, okay?I seriously think he meant it.''I said before footsteps were heard coming from chris' bedroom which ended me and Nick's conversation.

Chris hugged me from behind and kissed the top of my head.nick shot me a "you need help" look and I couldn't do much besides give him a "yea I know" look back.the brothers began conversing but it was more like background music to me.

I know nick is right, he’s not good for me.but I can't help it.everytime I look into his eyes I feel like i'm sinking deeper in this pit of love I dug so long a ago for him.i hated that I loved him and how I knew he was gonna do me wrong.but with his arms wrapped around me like they were right now I can't help but leave that as a problem for future me.

[rockyteriyaki]

TEAM BUILDING ACTIVITIES 👯

s/o to @powerful-owl for starting this meme and @disarmd for the insanely funny contribution, it’s such a delightful thought exercise! here’s my attempt:

MASCOTS!

american sports have hella mascots, so every team is tasked to create a marketable mascot that could represent them for u.s fans. they also have to build a little model to pitch the concept. there’s the williams whale sharks. the aston martin martinis. lando and oscar devise a walking papaya named penny who looks so much like a vulva oscar backs out almost instantly.

GUESS THE GRID based on clothing choices: drivers assemble an outfit they’d wear and then everyone else tries to guess who picked what. the catch is that the f1a girls did the same challenge and their answers are mixed in as well. everybody thinks doriane’s mercedes-themed picks are george’s and maya gets confused for charles even though there’s no ferrari branding to be seen. chloe’s picked a haas cap with a black skirt and we watch nico hulkenberg go through every emotion known to man trying to figure out why kevin would—???

(meanwhile the academy grid is absolutely ripping everybody’s style choices to shreds, accusing hamda of being the most basic bitch on the planet bc max chose to wear basketball shorts, etc)

PADDOCK SCAVENGER HUNT

5 teams are in on it and the other 5 can’t know what’s going on, otherwise they lose points. charles pretends that he’s too tired to walk when pierre catches him searching the top of a cabinet on carlos’ shoulders. oscar distracts williams while lando tries to get a picture of logan with red, white and blue objects in the background. yuki gets stranded on top of the rbr motorhome because daniel won’t stop using him for reconnaissance and the whole thing gets called off because max sees them squabbling on the roof and thinks the rapture has arrived.

GEORGE AND ALEX MAKE GRAPHICS

ib george’s natural talent for graphic design. the audience gets to see what a communications team actually does in motorsport (educational!) and george and alex get free reign of the entire library of press photos of eachother. george is hunting for a terrible picture of alex to edit onto a podium but ends up having a very verbal crisis about how none of the pap shots are appropriately bad and then spends the next half an hour digging himself into theeee deepest hole talking about how it’s just not as FUNNY if alex looks TOO GOOD on the podium! it would be UNFAIR! alex is squirming and trying to remember where tf he was planning on going with this zoomed-in great-gatsby-esque picture of george’s eyelids on his screen right now. george silently edits alex’s teeth out of his mouth and tries to erase the fact that he just called alex handsome like 47 times.

MARIO KART SIM RACING

im talking full immersion. sherbet land is ice fucking cold. every time they drive over some kind of giant clock or railroad or something the sim porpoises like a jackhammer. someone is standing behind them with a full tank of water for the splash sections. there’s a legitimate epilepsy warning at the start of the video. bowser puts the fear of god into lando norris.

MAX AND DANIEL DO TEMPORARY TATTOOS

i’m hesitant to allow them access to a bowl of water but i have an extremely clear vision of daniel slapping tats all over the blank spaces on his skin to the point where they overlap and he’s just got shiny plasticky tattoo skin everywhere. max would find this unappealing and also stupid until he realizes all the fake tattoos on his side of the table are replicas of daniel’s actual ones. cut to: daniel with a snake tattoo stuck in his eyebrow hairs hiking his shorts up so max can mirror the placement on his own inner thigh. daniel resembling a concussed post malone, watching max’s careful application of the ‘3’ tattoo. max does a horrible aussie accent and daniel looks like a chimpanzee seeing its own reflection for the first time. cinema.

[youareunbearable]

I've been thinking about Dionysus a lot, mainly as a god of madness and what that looks like, and ofc I've been taking my two favourite things and smashing them together so I come to you all with this: to mortals, the Sons of Feanor are remembered for their madness.

Feanor, of course, is remembered the most for his brilliance. And because of this, brilliance comes hand in hand with madness. A mad scientist of you will. Many mortals warn each other of not falling too far into the act of creation, to not get too lost into their work or else they might not find themselves whole and sane again.

Ambarussa are seen in duality, like expected. They embody both the panic and fear and crazed determination of: the coward that would do anything for life; the deserter who claws and screams at their chains begging for freedom at any cost ; the dying and their moans and pleads and horrible knowing laughter; but also of the slow, mindless, aching guilt of the survivor. For there is a madness there, a quiet consuming one, that comes with the knowledge of following orders of madmen, and doing nothing to free yourself. Of shaking the bars of your mind as you complete the same tasks over and over and over hoping for a new outcome when you know from the start what it will be. In both cases Ambarussa burns and they laugh

Caranthir is another one that mortals call upon often, for its the madness of rage, of speaking and acting without thinking. The kind of daily insanity of intrusive thoughts and his name would be a warning to not let them win. For its so easy to slip, to give into the mindlessness of instinct, of acting without thought or reason, to scream and rage and feel it flood over your body, ignite your cheeks. But it's always over before it starts, leaving you dizzy at the thought, the implications, the aborted actions.

Curufin is madness of loyalty. Blind loyalty, consuming filial loyalty, the desire for praise and recognition, to be the best. It strangles your heart and mind, his mindless loyalty, this overwhelming driving force. Cities and empires have fallen to this madness, for what is ambition if not its own brand of insanity. To believe you are larger than life, to be greater than your fellow man, to take whatever you want at the cost of everyone else- if that isn't madness then what is?

Celegorm would be that answer, for many mortals say he is the most blatant of the Sons, for he is the madness of the Kill, the lost of self in the Bloodlust, the driving force of the Hunt. With the third son, he is the true concept of Maenads- the frenzied rites. The losing of inhibitions, the fervent prayers to a God that is no longer listening, the thrill of tearing into your kill, feeling their life drip from your teeth as you laugh and laugh at an all seeing and uncaring sky. He would be the unruly madness, the one that follows you at the bottom of a bottle, laughing in your ear and filling your senses until you do something you regret, maybe even something you don't even remember at the end of the night

Maglor would be the most well known of the Sons, one mortals are aware of, and many aren't even afraid of. Many even sink into his embrace, as easy and willing as a hug from a longtime friend. Madness in grief is always easy to be enveloped by, for grief is something that is too easy to lose yourself in, and its something that lingers for years, decades, always ready to sink its claws into you when you least expect it. To ward him off from overstaying his welcome, mortals gift seashells to lessen the time his hysteria cloaks you, if not to ward it off completely. Its because of him, mortals say, that your tears taste of saltwater, its his unending grief at the seaside at work

And finally, the oldest of the Sons. Some mortals claim that Maitimo isn't a madness of his own, but Feanors perfect creation that was shattered into 7 fragments, never to be whole again and doomed to be imperfect forever, picking up after his broken pieces. Oh no, others cry out, Russandol is the insanity of doom relationships, of star-crossed lovers and falling into the insanity that is born of knowing you will never be happy and at peace together. Other mortals scoff at this, for they know that Nelyafinwe is the downward spiral one goes on when they have overwhelming and doomed expectations crushing their shoulders, the slip into consuming madness that no matter what you will never be able to meet them. Still others shake their head. You're almost right, they call, Maedhros is all of that and more. For the eldest of the Sons is the most madness inducing thing of all, the knowledge of failure.