#i need more hours in the day or more of ME

[mintmatcha]

Anyway i can't sleep so it's time to tell you that shinso truly falls in love with being a father figure to your son the night both of you are incredibly sick.

he comes over to your apartment unexpectedly; you hadn't contacted him all day, which was strange, but not alarming. when he arrives, he can hear the coughing for the hall.

the two of you are sick-- very sick. your son's lungs rattle with cough, burn with fever. your adult body handles it better, but shinso can tell by that look on your face that you have a migraine and probably the same damn sickness.

"hi, shinso," the baby creaks out, more docile than he's ever been.

"i should have texted you," you rub away tears with your palm. "it's been-"

"it's fine." He doesn't let you finish. "let me get you your pill for your headache."

"s'out."

your son coughs again and the sound hurts Shinso's teeth. he doesn't know what to do about that. children need special medications, right? he isn't sure.

and you don't seem very sure what to do either. shinso had forgotten that parenthood isn't instinctive, but learned. you always made it look so natural.

"what do you need?"

"sleep," you croak out. "but he keeps waking himself up with his coughing and I-"

"I'll stay with him. The clinic opens in a couple hours, I'll take him."

Usually, you'd argue a bit. You're so used to parenting alone that you aren't good at accepting help.

but illness sits heavy on you. you just nod and slink away to your room, leaving him and your son. the two just look at each other, eyes wide.

"can-" he has a sniffle and a whoop of a cough. "can you w'rub my back?"

and shinso does. he sits there for hours, with his wide hand against too hot skin, rubbing little circles over and over until the boy falls into more coughing fits.

in the morning, he wrestles the boy into his winter coat and bundles him in his arms before carrying him down the city streets. little arms circle his neck and cling on tight and ahinso feels this pang in his chest, this echoing feeling.

hes always cared for your son, but it's never struck him before that he loved him. he squeezes him tighter and adjusts his hood against the winter air.

[wileys-russo]

don't look back II l.williamson

don't look back II l.williamson

your body clock putting in a shift lately you weren't surprised to see it was hours later than you thought you'd be up, leah of course still very much dead asleep beside you, back turned and you could see her shoulders rising and falling a little the only sign of life.

you turned and attached your body to the defenders, slotting your leg in between hers and placing a tender kiss to her bare shoulder blade, the blonde not even stirring as you called her name softly a few times.

when a gentle approach didn't work, leah's eyes still shut and not even a grunt sounding, you sat up and shook her a few times, a tired exhale and some mumbled gibberish in response.

"lee, baby come on, wakey wakey." you cooed, poking at her cheek as the older girl scrunched her nose and grumbled something, pushing your hand away and scooting across the bed right to the very edge, clearly trying to move away from you making you scoff.

"leah how often do we both have the whole day off? it's like midday, we're running out of sun. please get up!" you groaned, shoving your girlfriends limp body as she sighed heavily, once again pushing your hands away.

"cmon don't be a pest babe, just let me sleep for a couple more minutes." the blonde mumbled tiredly, arms snaking around her pillow as she pulled it closer, eyes not even flickering open.

"you can sleep when you're dead leah. come on lets go for breakfast, coffee on me?" you scooted over from your side of the bed and ducked down to kiss her cheek a few times, getting nothing but silence in return.

"leah catherine!" with a huff you grabbed the extra pillow from the floor, sitting up and repeatedly whacking the older girl in an attempt to get her to stir.

you knew she'd been out late with the team last night after a big win, but mid season it was rare she'd drink enough to have this bad of a hangover, though you also couldn't quite remember what time it was she even joined you in bed.

"you're so annoying man. just fuck off and let me sleep if you can't lay here with me!" the defender snapped harshly, finally opening her eyes and snatching the pillow off you, hauling it to the other side of the room and turning onto her stomach with a grun.

"seriously? you're in this much of a mood? what did you do drink the bar dry last night?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes down at her, rolling them at the singular middle finger which popped out in response to your question.

"m'not hungover, m'tired."

"leah you haven't even let me sleep in the same bed as you without a pillow wall for the last couple of weeks. i'm gone of a morning when you get up and you're gone of an afternoon when i get home. we both have the day off, and isn't the point of a relationship that you want to actually spend quality time together occasionally?" you accused, glaring down at her where her eyes remained firmly shut.

"need i remind you love the pillow fort is because we made a pact no more sex till the end of the season because it tires me out. and cause you've been on a weird sleep schedule with switching out from working nights. if you get in here with me and even so much as touch my thigh, one of us will crack and then it's no stopping from there, its a few more weeks babe you'll live." leah sighed, arm extending out and smacking around blindly until she found your leg, giving it a little squeeze in what she likely assumed was supportive, but really you were more than a little hurt by her blunt honesty.

"right. so I'm basically only here to fulfill your needs when you're horny, run to and from collecting your shit when you leave it laying around and can't find what you need, cook your meals, do your laundry and clean the place up when you trash it because you can't keep it tidy enough to find anything?" you started in disbelief.

"so basically i'm a glorified maid? yeah perfect enjoy your sleep in leah, maybe i can find someone else to give me a kiss every now and then, wish me good morning and grab a coffee with me like i'm not some chore." you spat, swinging out of bed and making a beeline for the door as your girlfriend hurried to sit up.

"no no hey babe wait you know that's not what i meant-" the girl started with a sigh, running a hand through her hair and pausing for a moment, blinking with a wince as her eyes adjusted making yours roll.

"actually no you know what? i don't need to explain myself you know i love you and just because i want a lie in on my day off doesn't mean i don't. stop being so sensitive!" the defender blew it off, flopping back down and turning her back to you.

even further in disbelief at how little this seemed to bother her and that she'd seem to only hear half of what you were saying your mouth was open and ready to really let her have it, all the two of you seemed to be doing together lately was to argue anyway.

but not bothered for the sharp tongued comeback which leah wouldn't mean but would no doubt hurt your feelings even more you decided to leave it.

pulling on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, grabbing the first shoes in reach you left, making sure to slam the door behind you to really send a message.

the winter chill settling in you looked back at the front door, contemplating going back for a jacket or a vest of some kind but with a sigh you decided against it and ran a hand through your rather disheveled hair.

really the only person first and foremost you wanted to talk to right now was leah, and when you'd first started seeing one another it seemed that all the pair of you did was talk.

for hours and hours you covered every topic big and small, you'd often even fall asleep on the phone together, playful teasing following the next day about whose fault it was you were both so exhausted after staying up much later than needed.

you were a paramedic so you were much more well adjusted to a lack of sleep than leah, in fact you weren't sure if leah actually could survive without eight hours a day, well warned by the blonde herself that she was not a morning person and incredibly grumpy.

though you seemed to be the exception to that, leah waking up purposefully early to meet you after your night shift for breakfast, bringing you flowers and showering you with compliments that had your ears turning red and her face painted with a victorious grin at the sight.

you'd always heard of the 'spark' of a relationship dimming, especially from older married coworkers who complained about a lack of romance and spontaneity, feeding this back to leah who would always reassure you with a soft kiss that only happened to 'boring old people'.

yet here you were drowning in the same reality your girlfriend had always gone above and beyond to assure you would never be so, quelling your fears and anxieties with her undivided attention and unconditional love as much as she could spare it.

sometimes you'd think back toward the first year of dating leah and your chest would hurt, all of the romance and the dates and the late nights and the flowers, and you found yourself wanting to scream for taking it all for granted.

nowadays it seemed you and leah were no longer dating, merely...co-existing perhaps? you couldn't quite pinpoint when the 'spark' had begun to dim but what was once a fully lit bonfire was now barely a smoldering ember and the worst part of it was how blind leah was to that even happening.

so though you craved your girlfriend, there was really only one person you felt like going to talk to now.

~

"so you're hanging out with me on a day off." your best friend commented as she sipped at her coffee seemingly amused.

"meaning?" you raised an eyebrow curiously, the blonde smiling with a small shrug. "i love you, but i am not normally your first call for a friday coffee anymore." alessia chuckled as you flushed pink with embarrassment.

"hey i'm just joking, unclench." the striker teased, kicking you under the table seeing the apology about to be hurled her way and the obvious worry in your eyes that she was actually upset.

"i've had years of coffee's with you, you know i've quite enjoyed the break really." the blonde hummed as you now kicked her and rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

"so not that i don't like seeing you, but i'm guessing there's a reason you called? you don't seem yourself." alessia guessed, tone softening and laced with concern as you sighed heavily. "oh its that bad? right come on then." the girl stood, nodding for you to follow her into the living room.

you wasted no time leaving your coffee on the side table and flopping down on the couch you'd slept on a few times now after other arguments with leah, though back then they'd usually blow over by the morning where she'd pick you up with flowers in the front seat and a hundred texts apologising.

but lately your arguments had been different, more personal, more hurtful, you knew one another like the back of your hand and as beautiful a connection that could be, it also meant that leah knew every little insecurity and doubt to pick at in order to hit you where it really mattered.

"okay. let it out!" alessia made herself comfortable in the armchair she'd dragged to sit across from you, legs crossed and somewhat resembling a therapist as you laid down on the couch and exhaled, taking a pause before word vomiting what you'd been holding in for weeks now.

"-and now its like she doesn't even care if i'm there or not, so why am i even there?" you finished, throwing your hands up as the room fell silent and alessia seemed to take a moment to process everything.

"oh my god she's your captain and your team mate and your friend less shit this wasn't appropriate!" you had a sudden realization as you sat up panicked and the blonde hurried to sit down next to you.

"hey hey no, it's fine, breathe." alessia inhaled and exhaled deeply as you copied her, nodding once you'd managed to slow your heart rate a little.

"yes leah is all of those things, but you've been my best friend since you cried at the school gate on the first day of school and my mum made me come over and ask if you were okay." alessia teased as you groaned and covered your face with a pillow.

"less that is not how it happened!" "that is absolutely how it happened."

"but meaning, leah is also my best friends girlfriend, and besides who was it that introduced the two of you anyway?" alessia reminded as you exhaled and she yanked the throw pillow from your grip, tossing it to the floor.

"i love leah yes, but the way she's treating you isn't okay. you're way more than just something warm she comes home to or someone who pairs up her socks and does her laundry." alessia squeezed your knee as you puffed out air in an attempt at a chuckle.

"she really is terrible at keeping her socks in pairs."

"you're also the girl in the stands she looks at every time we do the post game lap, and who makes her smile at her phone like an idiot, who she is always proudly boasting about and why she lies about needing to leave training ten minutes early so she can pick you up food before you get home from work." alessia smiled sadly which you returned, sighing when you realized you couldn't actually remember the last time those things had happened.

"but, i really think you need to tell her all of this though. i love you but you do sometimes think people can read your mind and know how you're feeling without you expressing it in the slightest." alessia poked your forehead as you huffed.

"thats not to excuse how she's been acting, but i think she needs the wake up call of hearing from you how she's been acting is actually making you feel." alessia promised as you nodded, the blonde pulling you in for a hug as you sighed and rested your head on her shoulder.

"i love you less." "i love you too, even if my mum forced me to be your friend." "that is not how it happened!"

~

pulling into the driveway you cut your car off and took a moment to collect your thoughts, having been driving around rehearsing what you wanted to say for awhile now until you'd charged up the courage to go through with it.

letting yourself inside you were surprised to see leah had actually moved from the bed, head turning to look at you from where she was sat on the lounge watching something, draped in a vintage arsenal tracksuit.

"you're back! babe where'd you go? i texted you, no reply." the blonde shook her phone at you, clearly having paid no mind to the argument you'd had this morning or else her first words may have been an apology, but you on the other hand weren't letting it go that easily.

"oh sorry i went to go and learn how not to be so sensitive." you pouted sarcastically as her once happy expression dropped, but you ignored it and walked off to the bathroom.

"christ i look a mess." you mumbled, wincing at the bags under your eyes and looking around for your brush to pull through your semi knotted hair.

"hey love come on don't be like this, i didn't mean what i said." leah rasped, arms encircling your waist from behind and resting her forehead against your back with a hum. "you know how i am in the mornings. how about we go for lunch yeah?" leah suggested as you rummaged through the vanity cupboard.

"fuck off leah." you muttered, pulling her arms off of you and finally grabbing your hairbrush, trying to walk off but her hand grabbed your wrist tugging you back toward her.

"babe i'm really sorry, you know i love you more than anything." the defender husked quietly, grabbing your other hand and interlacing your fingers, bringing your palm to her mouth with a kiss and a soft smile that normally would melt you like butter.

but today, all it did was make you angry.

"of course you do. i do whatever you want, whenever you want it. we fuck when it suits you, i go to your games, go out with your friends, come home from working a twelve hour shift and do your washing so you have a clean uniform for training." you wrenched your hands from hers and poked at her chest with every accusation.

"but when i want to actually spend a night sleeping with my girlfriend and have her touch me in a way thats filled with love and not just lust. thats not okay because you're like some horny teenage cretin who gets a metaphorical boner when i touch your thigh? we're both in our twenties and sleeping with a pillow wall between us, do you know how ridiculous that sounds leah?" you laughed but it was one of desperation and panic, not a drop of humor to be found.

"so i'm here for what? moral support? to look at? to play with when you're bored?" you questioned rhetorically, shaking your head and throwing your brush to the floor, making a beeline for the bedroom as you heard her scoff behind you.

"i am trying to make up for this morning and trying to show you that you're so much more to me and you won't even look me in the eye. if you don't want an apology then what the fuck do you want?" leah called out, tugging at her hair in frustration as you paused.

"what do i want? how about my girlfriend back i'd fucking love that leah, because whoever this is-" you spun around and paused to gesture at her. "-sure as shit isn't my girlfriend, or at least the one i remember falling head over heels in love with." your tone dropped in those last few words, pausing to squeeze your eyes shut and take a breath.

"baby i'm still here. i'm still me. i'm still your girlfriend and last time I checked you were still mine." leah replied with an air of confidence that made your stomach drop, really solidifying for you that she may have been listening to you but she wasn't hearing you.

"really? because last time i checked when you have a girlfriend you go on dates with them, you make time for them and you actually enjoy that time with them." you shook your head and threw your hands up.

"and you hold their hand, and you talk to them about anything and everything because you want to. you kiss them out of love and not obligation, you say good morning and goodnight and when you lay in bed with them you can hold one another without it turning into sex. and when it does turn into sex it's supposed to be filled with intimacy not just a quick fuck with no feelings attached and where you ignore the person afterwards and put up a pathetic pillow wall leah!" you spat, wiping a single angry tear that escaped.

"and if you can't see that lately you haven't been acting like my friend let alone my girlfriend, then maybe I should go stay with my parents and wait for whenever my girlfriend comes back, because I miss her leah." you finished as your voice cracked and your chest heaved with shallow breaths, waiting for her to say something, anything.

but when the silence became suffocating you shook your head and made your way to the front door. throwing it open you gave one last look back and could see the blonde begging you to stay with her eyes.

but you didn't want a look, you wanted words. words you knew she'd say after you were gone, words she thought you wanted to hear and that would get you to return to her but wouldn't contain any actual substance.

words that would come through voicemails and text messages and that would kill you to ignore, but if she wasn't hearing you through words, maybe silence was the only way to get through to her.

"i'll come back for some of my stuff later, goodbye leah." you muttered dejectedly, forcing your eyes away and stepping outside.

you paused to take a breath before wrapping your arms around yourself, giving the comfort and hug you'd been after from the blonde behind you for far too long now.

maybe your girlfriend would come back to you, or maybe she wouldn't.

[luveline]

Ok I love your post about sleep talking to Aaron, but can you imagine if reader is pregnant but hasn’t told Aaron yet and completely spills the beans in her sleepy ramblings 💙💙

thanks for requesting! <3 fem, 1.4k

“Can you take my socks off for me?”  

Aaron decides against asking why. Finds he doesn’t really care why you don’t want to do it yourself, happy to do it for you and spend a little time touching you. He sits on the end of the bed, pulling the comforter off of your feet. He slides a finger under the band of a sock and pulls it off, then the other. Pleased to hear your content sigh, he tucks you back under the blankets. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

He hears it then, the tiredness creeping into your voice. 

“Not gonna last long tonight?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

Aaron doesn’t mind. With Jack in bed already and everything that needed to be done put away, there’s nothing to do tonight but sleep. He would’ve liked to have had a few more hours with you, but you’re often tired lately. He keeps meaning to pay closer attention to your diet. Perhaps you’re eating too little or missing a necessary vitamin. 

He strips out of his sweatpants and climbs into bed. 

“Ooh, how forward, Mr. Hotchner,” you tease, your cheek to your pillow, curled and waiting for him to lay down. 

He turns out the light. “Can’t a man take off his pyjamas without such accusations?” he asks back, soft so as not to disturb his sleeping son nor his failing partner. 

Aaron shakes the sheets out over his legs, slipping onto his side in your direction. You hike your leg over his thigh. He pulls you in. 

“Why are you so tired?” he asks. 

You don’t pretend you’re not, eyes closing and forehead drifting forward. He’s content to talk to you like this. He might not be able to sleep for a while, but he won’t mind it. It’s an opportunity to see you as you are without inhibitions or distractions.

“I think it’s something in the air.” You slink your arm behind him where he’s hugged you, hand bent at an awkward angle to press into his hair. “So soft.” 

He leans down for a kiss. “If you need to sleep,” he says, pulling away only to stroke under your eye, “you can sleep, honey.” 

“No… miss you too much…” 

“I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Don’t promise if you can’t.” 

He kisses your frown. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning. Just like we talked about. Regularly scheduled days off, definite weekends, consult only if necessary. I promise, honey.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know. I love you more.” 

You’re delighted to hear it. Even with your eyes closed, he can sense the pleasure you’re feeling. You squeeze closer to his chest and begin pulling your fingers through his hair, a sensation that sends shivers down his spine with each pass. Your face falls on your pillow just under his chin and for a while you struggle, your hand trembling with the effort of stroking his hair. Soon, you’re scratching light circles into the same spot, and not long after that you’ve given in to simply having your hand there, buried without hurting. 

He turns onto his back to relieve a hip ache. He doesn’t bother pretending it isn’t a plus when you end up half atop him. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yeah?” he asks, surprised you're capable of opening your mouth. 

“Are you happy?” 

“Never so much in my life.” 

“You love me?” 

He curls an arm behind the back of your head. “You know that I do, sweetheart.” Aaron is at a crossroads of disposition; he’s always been and always will be a sensitive man, but he’s more of a shower than a teller when he can help it. He’d hope you know every inch of love he has for you, in everything he tries to do, but if you’re asking him about it he should’ve said it more. “I love you. I’m so grateful for you.” 

“I love you and Jack, and… I love our life.” 

“Me too,” he says. “Is this a precursor for something?” 

“No,” you say decidedly. Last bit of inflection, and then your tone’s lost to fatigue. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” he says, pressing his lips to your head, kissing you once, then twice. “Goodnight.” 

You curl up into him. He can feel the moment you fall into sleep, the laxness of unconsciousness and your deepening breath. You don’t usually snore for the first hour or so. He should try to fall asleep with you, but he gets distracted by the line of your upper lip. 

He really does love you. It isn’t an underestimation to say this is the happiest he’s ever been. He’ll always wonder if he deserves it, but he wants to believe now that he can earn it. You love him, so he’ll spend the rest of your lives together making sure you’re happy. He’s had some cruel wake up calls, made agonising mistakes, and maybe there are some things that can’t be forgiven. But you deserve to be loved to the fullest extent. Jack deserves to grow up feeling the same way, in a home where his dad, while staying true to who he is, actually lives there too.

You and Jack both gave him a second chance at a good life. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

Stirring, you mumble nothing. 

He shouldn’t have done that. “Shh,” he says, rubbing your back. “Shh, shh.” 

“Aaron?” 

You turn his name into a shapeless doting. 

“What, my girl?” he asks under his breath. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sleeping.” 

“You were.” He whispers to you in the dark, struggling to resist temptation. “I was just telling you I love you, that’s all.” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“You’re more than tired lately. It’s a little concerning.”

Your sigh kisses his neck. “Well, it’s probably ‘cos of the baby, you know, they’re so… complicated to make…” 

He opens his eyes. Frowns at you, forcing some space between your two bodies. “The baby.” 

“‘Pparently the first twelve weeks are the tiredest.” You whine softly and curl into him. “Don’t move away, please...” 

He feels like he’s been shocked. The conversation about babies as a long term couple went as follows: we’ll use protection, and if the protection fails we’ll do as you like. 

Aaron, you’d said, shaking your head, We can’t just do what I want.

Genuinely and wholeheartedly, Aaron would be happy with just his Jack, and, at the same time, would adore a baby with you. So it really was up to you, knowing protection isn’t ever one hundred percent. He’d hoped he’d be more looped into that conversation when it happened, though, especially with how much has to be done, the preparations to be made, and the extra support you’re going to need. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking about everything carefully. He loves you. He wants you to have a baby if you want one, and it sounds like you do. You’re tired beyond belief trying to carry one, so this conversation can wait until tomorrow. 

“I’ve heard that too,” he says finally, kissing your forehead more forcefully than he means to. “You should rest as much as you can, honey.”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” you tease, tired, somehow missing the entire point. 

“I love you very much, that’s all. You and Jack and… and whatever else that comes.” 

—

In the morning, you wake slowly and then suddenly, your hand against his arm. He’s exhausted from a night too excited to sleep and doesn’t budge.

“Aaron…?” you ask. 

“What, honey?” he asked. 

“I… did I…” 

He deigns to remove his face from his pillow. He finds you looking down at him nervously, so beautiful then that looking at you makes him excited all over again. 

He rubs your arm. Takes your hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss your wrist. “Congratulations, honey.” 

It’s your turn to be shocked, it seems. “Oh, thank you. So I did tell you?” 

“You might’ve mentioned it.” 

“And you’re… okay with it?” 

He puts your hand to his heart, holding it gently. “I couldn’t be more in love,” he confesses. 

That helps your hesitant smile on leaps and bounds. You go smiley like you’ve eaten something sugary and laughed, summoning the sweet, inescapable ache in your jaw. “You’re sure?” you ask. 

He pulls you down by the cheek for a kiss. 

[dissapointu]

Thinking about Arcane with a partner who is terminally ill and has to stay in bed hooked up to a bunch of needles and tubes

Thank you for all your work you are amazing <3

Thank you so much for your kind words!

I swear we are allergic to happiness-

Jinx

Jinx hides her pain behind manic energy, trying to make you smile even when it feels like her heart is shattering. She brings you handmade gadgets, some of which are purely for fun—tiny robots that dance or explode into colorful sparks, filling the room with chaos and laughter. But when the exhaustion hits, she curls up beside your bed, her fingers tracing the tubes and needles with a quiet reverence. In those moments, her vulnerability surfaces, and she whispers about her fears of losing you.

Vi

Vi hates feeling powerless, and seeing you like this is her worst nightmare. She refuses to leave your side, bringing you books and stories of her past to keep your mind off the pain. Her hands are always gentle when adjusting your blanket or holding yours, but her emotions often spill over. When no one else is around, she breaks down, pressing her forehead against your arm, her tears soaking into the fabric as she begs you to hold on just a little longer.

Sevika

Sevika is practical, channeling her pain into action. She spends hours ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible, fixing equipment when it malfunctions and running errands for anything you need. At night, when she thinks you’re asleep, she sits by your bed, nursing a drink and talking to you like everything’s normal—about work, about Zaun, about how much she admires your strength. If you catch her in a rare moment of vulnerability, she’ll brush it off, saying, “You’re the tough one here, not me.”

Silco

Silco is a man of control, and your condition reminds him of his helplessness. He spares no expense in seeking the best care for you, but he’s always haunted by the sight of you so frail. His visits are quiet but full of unspoken devotion—he reads reports aloud, his voice calm and steady, though his eyes flicker to your face more often than the papers. Late at night, when no one else is around, he gently brushes your hair back and murmurs promises he knows he might not be able to keep.

Vander

Vander is a steady presence, his warmth grounding you even in your worst moments. He sits by your bed, holding your hand as he tells you stories from his youth or hums a soothing tune. He often brings the children by to cheer you up, their laughter filling the room. Vander tries to stay strong for you, but his hands tremble when he thinks you’re not looking. His love is unwavering, and he’ll remind you every day how much you mean to him.

Ekko

Ekko struggles with the weight of seeing you like this, but he refuses to let despair take over. He spends his time crafting small inventions to make your life easier or bring a smile to your face. When the silence becomes too much, he talks about his dreams for the future, painting vivid pictures of what could be. He clings to hope, even when it feels fragile, and does everything in his power to make sure you know you’re not alone.

Jayce

Jayce throws himself into researching treatments, convinced he can find a way to help you. When he’s not in the lab, he’s by your side, his hand resting over yours as he explains his latest breakthroughs or reminisces about the moments you’ve shared. He hides his fear behind his optimism, but when you tell him it’s okay to let go of the facade, he breaks down, resting his head on your shoulder and letting his tears fall freely.

Viktor

Viktor is no stranger to pain and illness, and he understands your struggles on a deeply personal level. He spends hours at your bedside, quietly tinkering with gadgets or reading aloud from books he thinks you’ll enjoy. His touch is gentle, his words soft, and his presence unwavering. He hates that he can’t fix this, but he makes sure you never feel alone, offering comfort in the form of quiet companionship and shared understanding.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is your pillar of strength, calm and composed even when her heart is breaking. She works tirelessly to ensure you have the best care, pulling strings and calling in favors to get you what you need. She’s a constant presence, her hand often resting on yours as she talks about the world outside. When she’s overwhelmed, she steps outside for a moment to compose herself, returning with a renewed determination to make the time you have left as meaningful as possible.

Mel Medarda

Mel is a force of grace and composure, but your condition shakes her to her core. She fills your room with beauty—art, flowers, and soft fabrics—to make your space a sanctuary. She sits with you for hours, her voice soothing as she shares stories from her childhood or discusses philosophy and politics. Her mask only slips in the quiet moments, her hand lingering on yours as she murmurs about how much she loves you, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is not one to show weakness, but your illness makes her feel a vulnerability she hasn’t known in years. She takes charge of your care, ensuring you’re surrounded by the best physicians and resources. Though her visits are often brief, they’re filled with quiet intensity. She sits by your bed, her large hand covering yours as she promises to protect you, her voice steady even as her heart aches.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is practical and nurturing, spending her days by your side to ensure you’re comfortable and cared for. She’s always quick with a joke or a story to lift your spirits, her warmth a balm against the cold reality of your condition. But when the laughter fades and the room grows quiet, she leans her head against your shoulder, her voice soft as she tells you how much you mean to her, her heart aching with every word.

Lest

Lest hates seeing you like this, but she channels her emotions into quiet devotion. She watches over you like a guardian, her sharp eyes scanning every tube and needle to ensure everything is in order. She often sits beside your bed, her tail curling around her legs as she talks about the world outside, filling the silence with her soothing voice. When you catch her staring at you with a mix of love and sorrow, she quickly looks away, her ears twitching, but her hand remains firmly in yours.

[rafedarling]

We need drew when rustyns born, like labor/delivery, I think he’s the most supportive partner 😭😭

here are more rustyn for ya.

𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲

request: OPEN

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: your due day has finally come for you and drew to meet your little one. as labor unfolds, drew proves to be the most supportive partner, balancing his nerves with humor, tenderness, and unwavering love.

warning(s): english is not my native language. mentions of childbirth, medical procedures, mild pain, fluff, humour, use of y/n.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @rubixgsworld @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxoblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @percysley @littlelamy

“Drew,” you whispered, reaching over to nudge your husband’s shoulder.

He remained motionless, his breathing slow and even. Another contraction gripped you, and you couldn’t stifle a soft groan. With more urgency this time, you called his name again.

“Drew… babe”

This time, he stirred. His brow furrowed before his blue eyes slowly blinked open.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

“I think my water just broke,” you said softly, offering a small, nervous smile.

The words took a moment to register, but when they did, Drew bolted upright.

“What?!” His voice was shock and excitement.

“Oh my god, it’s happening! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Is it bad? What do I do?” He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the duvet in his rush.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his frantic reaction, though it was cut short by another contraction.

“I’m okay, but we should probably get to the hospital soon. Can you calm down, though? I don’t need two emergencies tonight.”

“Right, right,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair.

He grabbed the hospital bag you’d packed weeks ago, holding it like it was the most precious cargo.

“Let’s go!”

“Wait,” you said, stopping him. “I need to change my pants first.”

“Oh. Right.” He was back at your side in an instant, helping you up with his hands steady on your arms.

His gaze was full of concern as he scanned your face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

“The contractions are getting closer, but they’re manageable,” you replied, leaning into him as he helped you change.

“But yeah, we really need to go now.”

At the hospital, Drew took charge, answering questions from the nurse about how far you are, are you on any special medication and filling out the paperwork as you were wheeled into your room.

Once you were settled, Drew pulled a chair next to your bed, gripping your hand tightly.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice soft yet anxious.

“I’m okay for now,” you said, though the contractions were growing stronger and more frequent.

“I didn’t realize how many needles they’d stick in me during all this.”

Drew gave a small laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re handling it like a champ. I don’t think I’d survive five minutes of this.”

Another contraction hit, and you gripped his hand tightly, your breathing uneven. Drew immediately shifted closer, his voice calm and steady.

“Breathe, Y/N. In and out, baby. You’ve got this.”

Hours and hours has passed, and Drew never left your side. He held your hand through every contraction, rubbed your back when the pain became overwhelming, and even tried to make you laugh to keep your spirits up. When you hit the ten-hour mark, Drew suddenly pulled out the camcorder from his sister Brooke, who had brought it to document the big day.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow despite your exhaustion.

“Making a video for Rustyn,” he said, grinning. “Something for him to watch when he’s older.”

He turned the camera to himself first, his smile lighting up the room.

“Hey, Rustyn. It’s your dad. It’s 6 a.m., and you’re really taking your time, buddy. But that’s okay, we’re waiting patiently. Well, your mom’s doing all the work.”

Turning the camera toward you, he continued,

“And here’s your mom. Look at her, look how incredible she is. The strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You better treat her like a queen when you grow up, okay?”

Despite the pain, you laughed softly. “Drew, stop making me laugh, it hurts!”

He chuckled, then turned the camera toward Brooke, who was pacing in the corner.

“And here’s your Aunt Brooke, who’s been on the edge of her seat all night.”

“Rustyn, ignore your dad,” Brooke said, rolling her eyes. “I’m much cooler than he is, and I can’t wait to spoil you.”

When the doctor finally announced it was time to push, Drew’s nerves hit an all-time high. He squeezed your hand tightly, his other hand brushing the sweat-dampened hair from your face.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking slightly but full of love. “I’m so proud of you.”

The first push was overwhelming, and you let out a cry of frustration.

“I can’t do this,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “Drew, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his eyes locking with yours.

“You’re the strongest person I know. Just one push at a time, baby. I’m right here.”

With each push, he offered constant encouragement.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re doing amazing. Our boy’s almost here. I love you so much.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a loud cry filled the room. Tears immediately welled up in Drew’s eyes as the doctor placed your baby boy on your chest.

Drew was trembling as he leaned over, his eyes fixed on the tiny baby in your arms.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, he’s perfect.”

You stared down at Rustyn, overwhelmed by love and relief. His tiny fingers curled against your chest, his cries subsiding as he felt your warmth.

“We did it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks, happy tears.

“No,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You did it. You’re amazing.”

The nurses congratulated you both, while Brooke captured every moment on the camcorder. Drew leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Thank you for giving me him.”

“What should we name him?” you asked softly, your voice shaky with emotion.

Drew didn’t hesitate. “Rustyn. Rustyn Starkey.”

You nodded, smiling down at your son. “Rustyn. It’s perfect.”

Drew reached out, brushing a finger over Rustyn’s tiny hand.

“Hey, buddy. Welcome to the world. We’ve been waiting for you.”

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 COULD’VE BEEN aeri uchinaga x reader

❚ ❚ 𓍢 JIHYORURI 106 FM | jihyoruri 106 FM catalog for today brought to you by your very own jihyoruri! new music by aeri uchinaga will follow up next ; idol!au, oc group, fluff, angst, yearning

❝I ain’t just just your friend, no, what’s the point of lying? tryna sell a story ain’t nobody buyin’ look me in my eyes don’t feel nice?❞

❝I could’ve been him, more than your friend❞

now playing : could’ve been by aeri uchinaga 1:35 ━━○───── 3:47 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

when aeri first met yn during her trainee days, she was just the annoying younger girl who always stuck by yizhuo's side.

aeri had only exchanged a few words with her here and there, but honestly, she tried her best to avoid yn altogether. she was immature, and had complete unfiltered qualities. aeri couldn’t wrap her head around, especially in someone aspiring to become an idol.

but aeri couldn’t deny it, yn had this strange way of standing out. even if she annoyed her, aeri often caught herself watching yn interact with others, finding a surprising amount of entertainment in the chaos she brought with her everywhere she went.

she kind of missed the chaos yn used to bring, the way she managed to turn everyone's day upside down with that relentless energy.

that was until about two years after aespa’s debut.

aeri was lounging on the couch, half-watching a movie on the tv, when she heard the front door open. she didn’t even need to glance up to know it was yizhuo, her footsteps were unmistakable. but what stopped her cold was the voice that followed.

her head snapped up, the tv forgotten. eyebrows furrowing, she stared as the person walking in beside yizhuo came into view. they looked so familiar yet so... different.

confident, polished, and undeniably good looking. it took her a second to connect the dots, but when she did, her breath hitched.

yn.

“wha…” she trailed off.

“look who I found!” yizhuo exclaimed with a wide grin as she wrapped an arm around yn’s shoulders. “our yn! she’s still a trainee at sm.”

aeri’s gaze immediately locked onto yn, who gave her that crooked smile she always used to give to her during training.

“yn…” aeri said, sitting up a little straighter. “you look…” she trailed off, her face heating up as yn raised a brow, clearly waiting for aeri to finish.

“sorry, I forgot what I was gonna say,” aeri quickly covered, waving it off. “whoa, dude, I haven’t seen you in so long! and you’re still a trainee? how’s that going?”

“it’s been good,” yn replied smoothly, her voice carrying a more confident tone than aeri remembered. “I’m supposed to debut next year, so you guys can look forward to that.”

yizhuo squealed with excitement while aeri’s eyes widened in surprise. “congratulations! that’s awesome. I remember you were really into songwriting are you working on stuff for the group?”

yn opened her mouth to answer, but yizhuo cut in enthusiastically. “she is! she was just talking about songwriting on the way here, and I told her you’ve been struggling a bit with your own songs. you guys should totally help each other!”

trainee aeri would’ve run for the hills if someone had told her she'd end up working in a studio alone with yn. the thought of spending hours with the loud, unfiltered girl who once wreaked havoc during practice sessions would have been unbearable.

but now?

“that’s a cool idea.”

aeri glanced at yn, who was leaning casually against the desk, her eyes fixed on aeri with quiet patience as she waited for her answer.

this wasn’t the same yn she remembered. there was something calmer about her now, more refined, though the spark in her eyes remained.

“that’s a cool idea,” aeri finally said, her voice steady.

and that’s how it all started.

and it only took four prominent moments for everything to shift completely.

the first session was awkward, to say the least. aeri sat stiffly in the chair, headphones on, scrolling through their tracklist. yn was unusually quiet, sitting across from her and tapping a pen against her notebook. finally , she broke the silence.

“so, uh… how do you usually start these?” yn asked, tilting her head.

aeri sighed, pulling off her headphones. “I don’t know. sometimes I just hum random stuff and see if it sticks.”

“huh,” yn said, her lips curving into a smile. “sounds messy. I like it.”

aeri rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips. “what about you? got any lyrics hidden in that notebook of yours?”

yn hesitated before flipping open the notebook, revealing a page covered in scribbles. “It’s kinda rough,” she admitted, handing it over.

aeri read through it, her eyebrows raising. “by rough, do you mean really good?.”

“really?” yn’s eyes lit up, and for a moment, aeri felt a pang in her chest. It was the first time she noticed how sincere yn’s smile could be.

after a couple sessions , the awkwardness had melted away, replaced by easy banter. as they worked on a melody, yn suddenly asked, “do you think I’ll be a good idol?”

aeri paused, looking up from the keyboard. “why would you even ask that?”

yn shrugged, spinning her chair in slow circles. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I’m… too much. too loud. too all over the place.”

“that’s ridiculous,” aeri said firmly. “you’re passionate, and you care. and honestly? you’ve grown a lot since we were trainees. I think you’ll be amazing.”

yn’s spinning stopped, and she looked at aeri with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “thanks,” she said softly.

the room felt heavier during their later sessions. yn would lean in close to adjust something on the screen, and aeri could feel her breath against her skin. they worked late into the night, and the air between them felt charged.

“this is turning out pretty good,” yn said one night, sitting back and listening to their latest track.

“yeah,” aeri murmured, her eyes focused on the screen but her mind elsewhere. yn’s voice had gotten deeper, more confident, and it lingered in aeri thoughts long after their sessions ended.

yn stretched, her shirt riding up slightly, and aeri quickly averted her gaze, her face heating up.

“you okay?” yn asked, her tone teasing but her eyes curious.

“fine,” aeri said quickly, fumbling with her notes

this session was unknowingly their last one and it was filled unspoken emotions. they had just finished writing the bridge of a song , and the energy between them was undeniable.

yn leaned closer, her voice low. “you know… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this comfortable with anyone before.”

aeri’s breath caught as yn’s eyes flickered to her lips. she knew what was coming and felt her heart hammering in her chest.

but as yn moved closer, aeri panicked. “don’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

yn froze, confusion flashing in her eyes. “what’s wrong?”

“you’re still young, yn,” aeri said, standing up abruptly. “you’re yizhuo’s friend. and with your debut next year… this could never work.”

yn’s expression shifted to one of hurt, but she nodded slowly. “if that’s how you feel…”

“It is,” aeri said, though the crack in her voice betrayed her.

“okay, cool.” yn replied she look down at her phone and saw the time, it was pretty late, she gathered her things and left not without muttering a quick bye.

aeri sat back down, her hands trembling and that’s when she got the feeling that this was their last session.

she couldn’t believe how far they’d come or how much she was already starting to miss her.

but it was for the best, for both her and yn.

aeri and yn hadn’t talked since that night. yizhuo asked a few times what had happened, but aeri always brushed it off, saying yn was getting closer to her debut and was too busy.

but that wasn’t true.

yn had always made time for her.

if there was one thing aeri knew she would always regret, it was that night. months had passed almost a year and she couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that came with it. sometimes, it felt like she was forgetting yn entirely, her voice, her laugh, the way her presence could fill a room.

that was until one early summer morning.

utopia.

that was the groups name.

aeri curled up in her bed, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her face as she replayed the music video over and over again. yn looked so good.

the internet was already going wild over the group. they were a surprise debut, sm had dropped hints here and there, there was even an instagram account with the groups name that had little secret promotions but no one had pieced it together.

now, utopia was all anyone could talk about and it’s only been a couple hours since they debuted and it was clear they were destined for massive success.

aeri felt a bittersweet ache in her chest as she watched. she was proud, so proud, that yn had finally debuted with three other girls who seemed to care about her deeply. but there was also a selfish part of her that couldn’t ignore the sting of jealousy.

the whole world knew yn now. they’d see her the way aeri did, cherish her the way she always had. and aeri wasn’t sure how to handle that.

this was awkward.

aeri and jimin stood across from yn and sooyoung, utopia’s leader. aeri recognized sooyoung immediately, she was a former member of loona, someone aeri had always respected from afar.

one of utopia’s managers stepped in after the brief greetings. “okay, yn, you’ll be teaching aeri the choreography, and sooyoung, you’ll work with karina. we need to move quickly since there’s an interview right after this, so let’s keep it efficient.”

aeri shifted on her feet, stealing a glance at yn, who was already watching her with an unreadable expression. this was going to be interesting.

jimin had already walked over to sooyoung, eager to learn her small part of the dance, leaving aeri standing there, unsure of what to do next.

yn squinted at her for a moment, as if sizing her up, before she walked closer, her steps confident. “let’s start.” she said, her tone calm but direct.

aeri felt a flutter in her chest at the proximity, but she quickly shook it off. “right. let’s get to it,” she replied, trying to sound casual, though her nerves were starting to show.

yn didn’t say anything more, just motioned for aeri to stand in the center of the room. “okay, watch closely.”

as yn demonstrated the first few steps, aeri couldn’t help but notice how fluid and natural her movements were. there was no hesitation, no self doubt. just pure confidence.

aeri tried to focus, but the heat in her chest was hard to ignore, she doesn’t know how ended up learning the dance properly but she thankfully followed yn’s moves smoothly.

after the four of them finished filming the dance challenge, yn and sooyoung’s managers were already ushering the girls out of the room, leaving aeri and jimin to gather their things.

jimin glanced at aeri,“so, that’s her?”

aeri froze for a moment before looking at jimin. “huh?”

“the girl.”

“yeah, that’s her.”

“she’s cute.”

"she is," aeri sighed, the words slipping out before she could stop them. seeing yn again stirred up emotions she’d been burying for months, feelings she thought she’d finally gotten under control.

but now, with yn so close yet so out of reach, it felt impossible to keep pretending. aeri wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up.

aeri hadn’t been wrong when she said utopia was destined for success. in just a few months, the group was everywhere, on billboards, variety shows, and music charts. it felt impossible to avoid them.

impossible to avoid yn.

it was overwhelming. every time she saw yn, every time they crossed paths or exchanged even the smallest interaction, the feelings aeri had been desperately trying to bury came rushing back, stronger than ever. no matter how hard she tried to push them away, they always found their way back to her.

she kept her expression neutral as she watched the four juniors deliver their thank you speech. glancing around, she noticed the way all the other groups were looking at them, faces full of awe, especially when yn stepped up to the mic.

just seeing yn on that big stage, accepting a well earned award, made aeri’s heart ache. soon, countless idols would approach yn to congratulate her, offer their praise and admiration.

and she wouldn’t be one of them.

but she had to be.

she couldn’t keep going on like this.

the show was over before aeri even realized it, her mind racing as she slipped away from her group, ignoring their confused looks.

she wandered through the backstage hallways, her heart pounding as she searched for any sign of yn. it took a while, but eventually, she found them, utopia standing in front of their dressing room, proudly chatting as they waited for their manager to unlock the door.

aeri’s eyes landed on yn, who was wrapped in april’s arms, laughing softly as they waited. for a moment, she just stood there, unsure of what to do. finally, she cleared her throat, the sound breaking through their conversation.

all four girls turned to look at her, their expressions shifting to polite surprise as they bowed immediately.

“hi, I actually just wanted to talk to yn,” aeri said, her voice awkward as the door to the dressing room swung open.

april unwrapped her arms from around yn and stepped inside, offering aeri a small smile. aihan followed without sparing a glance, while sooyoung lingered for a moment. she gave aeri a look that sent chills down her spine before disappearing into the room.

the door closed and yn turned to fully look aeri in the eyes, “hey…”

“hi, I just wanted to say congratulations, on everything, utopia is so successful, I’m so happy for you.”

“hi,” aeri began, her voice a little shaky. “I just wanted to say congratulations on everything. utopia is so successful. I’m... I’m so happy for you.”

"thank you," yn said softly, her tone calm. "is that it?"

"no, actually," aeri replied, letting out a nervous sigh. "yn, I’m sorry about—"

"it’s okay," yn interrupted, her voice even but firm. "I can’t force you to like me. I completely misread the situation, and... you’re right."

"what?" aeri’s voice cracked, the weight of yn’s words hitting her like a punch to the chest.

"you’re right," yn continued, her gaze steady but distant. "I’m younger, I’m just starting my career, and it’s off to a good start. I shouldn’t have even thought we could’ve been something. that was my mistake."

"no, I—" aeri tried to protest, but yn wasn’t finished.

"it’s okay," yn said again, though her voice wavered at the edges, betraying a crack in her composure. "let’s just not talk about it anymore and be cool. we’re cool, right?"

the slight break in yn’s voice at the end nearly broke aeri completely, but she swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. "I... yeah. we’re cool

"good." yn offered her that classic crooked smile, one that used to make aeri’s heart race, before she turned and opened the door to the dressing room. "thanks. see you around."

the door shut softly behind her, leaving aeri alone in the hallway.

aeri stood there for a moment, the lump in her throat growing heavier by the second.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

[samah-h]

A Confession from the Heart of Suffering: An Unbearable Reality

I hope you read my confession, and thank you. This is the reality of all the people of Gaza.

Whenever I think of the life we used to have before the genocide, I have to struggle to hold my tears so I don't cause my children more pain than what they already feel. Our life, then, was neither easy nor perfect but it was full of warmth and the simple joy of being together under one roof .

We have never felt completely free because we have always been under a siege that has only gotten worse during this war but at least we felt somewhat safe and we had quite a decent life with the means that we were allowed.What kept us going was our belief that the future might be brighter one day.

Unfortunately, there seems to be no better tomorrow for us anymore. Nothing remains of our previous lives but rubble and memories, and the future is so bleak and full of uncertainties.It's not just the walls of our house that were turned into ruins, it's our hopes and dreams that were reduced to ashes. Now, we only dream of things that might seem so trivial to other people around the world like being able to sleep in and wake up in a comfortable bed or having a meal without standing for it in line for hours.

We dream of having enough clean drinking water so we don't have to worry about dying of thirst. We dream of the days we had a home with a regular kitchen and stove, the days we could celebrate special occasions with family in peace. Above all, we dream of not losing the people we love in a split second and of living safely and with dignity.

Instead, we have been wrongfully sentenced to a life of fear, displacement, and humiliation beyond belief. It is a living nightmare here now. Everything needed to ensure the bare minimum of decency and normalcy is denied to us. As you well know, there is no safe place in Gaza anymore and We are deprived of simple rights like having having a roof over our heads or enjoying some peace of mind for even one single day. The airstrikes and the buzzing of drones almost never stop. We live with a very real sense of impending doom day and night.

The water and food scarcity are only getting worse with time. Even regular chores like cooking or doing the laundry have become true challenges. I cannot propely bathe my children because the little water we get is polluted and their sensitive baby skin keeps getting irritated.

Before the war, my nine- year-old daughter was so picky about which outfits to wear; it made me laugh that she acted that way at her age but now we don't even have enough warm clothes for the winter. It kills me each time she says she doesn't need fancy clothes anymore and only wants to feel warm and go back to school. What makes it worse is our tent has recently been flooded by rain.

The whole camp turned into a swamp overnight. The children woke up soaked, shivering and terrified. It was almost impossible to calm them down as the rain kept pouring. We are doing our best but even if we succeed in finding the treatment, it's going to cost almost a fortune. This is why we need your support even more now.

All we do now is fight for survival every day. I never imagined,even in my darkest nightmares, that I would be searching high and low to put food in my children's mouths and keep them warm or that I would be begging the world to literally save their lives but I have no other choice now.

Despite the unbearable suffering we're daily going through, I still believe in humanity. please keep us in your prayers and help us anyway you can. Donate if you're able to,reblog and share our story as widely as you can.We are grateful to each and every one of you

Vetted by @bilal-salah0

7,464$ / 10,000$

[linwelinloves]

I keep reblogging this stuff because there are people out there that worry that their comments aren't "clever enough" or "deep enough" or just "good enough" and I want them to know that a single heart or fire emoji or a keysmash and a scream will have me giggling for five hours and give me energy to write that day so if you worry about leaving "good" comments, DON'T.

All comments are good comments.

They all make us writers happy!

You can just say

Loved this!

❤❤❤ or 🔥🔥🔥 or 👏👏👏 or literally whatever

keysmashing

"THIS" or "OMG YES" or any kind of thing like that

I loved/I laughed at/I cried when [insert a sentence]

"+1 kudos" [when reading a multichapter you wish you could leave kudos in every chapter]

"rereading this fic, still love it" [you might be responsible for some tears for this one, I'd cry tears of joy if I got a comment like this]

literally anything positive you can think of

And I promise the author will be kicking their feet in glee. It doesn't have to be a literary analysis; just a positive reaction is all we need.

You don't have to leave a comment, but it literally is like recharging the writing battery so you might get more of that fic you liked—aside from, you know, making another human being happy. Which is neat!

Just keep it positive (unless author encourages concrit) and don't demand updates (pressure isn't a good incentive) and you're golden.

AO3 Comments are SO SO SOOOOOOO important because you can only leave Kudos ONCE. You add to the hit count ONCE (every 24 hours).

So whenever someone updates their fic, the ONLY way an author knows who their regular readers are is if they comment on each chapter. And we WANT to know who's still reading.

Believe it or not, some of us think about the name that pops up constantly in the comments and go "omg I can't wait to see what they think of THIS SPECIFIC SCENE cuz I KNOW they'll say something about it!!!"

[p0orbaby]

Blurb idea - reader being really busy with work & leah feeling a bit neglected. Reader feeling terrible when she finds out & spoiling leah

-

You’re typing furiously, barely looking at the screen, your mind racing ahead to the next three deadlines. The dining table is no longer for dining; it’s a graveyard of coffee mugs, half-eaten biscuits, and Post-it notes that say things like “URGENT!!” and “Revisit before Friday.”

Leah walks past, deliberately slow, like she’s waiting for you to notice her. She’s wearing your favourite hoodie and a pout that could rival a Labrador that’s just been denied a treat.

You don’t notice.

“Busy, are we?” she says, voice laced with enough passive-aggression to fuel a reality show reunion.

“Mhm,” you hum, barely registering her presence. “Just a few more things to finish up”

Leah doesn’t respond. She stands there for a moment longer, then sighs dramatically before retreating to the sofa.

It’s only later, when you shut your laptop and stretch, that you notice the tension in the air. Leah is curled up, scrolling on her phone with the energy of someone purposefully ignoring you.

You approach cautiously. “Hey. Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Fine”

That’s a lie, and you know it. The fine that means absolutely not fine but I’ll let you figure it out.

“Leah,” you say, sitting down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says again, but the pointed way she keeps her eyes on her phone gives her away.

“Liar”

She sighs again, setting her phone down with exaggerated care. “You’ve been glued to your laptop for two weeks. I feel like I’m married to an Excel spreadsheet”

Your heart sinks. “Oh, babe. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise…”

“It’s fine,” she says, but it’s not. “I get it, you’re busy. You’ve got work. It’s important”

“No, it’s not just that. I should’ve made more time for you”

She shrugs, clearly milking this moment of guilt for all it’s worth.

And that’s when you know you need to fix it. Properly.

The next day, Leah wakes up to breakfast in bed. Not just any breakfast—her favourite. Pancakes, syrup, fruit arranged in a smiley face that looks like you tried too hard. There’s coffee too, in her favourite mug that you normally avoid using because it’s “aesthetic” and not dishwasher-safe.

“What’s all this?” she asks, sitting up and eyeing the tray with suspicion.

“An apology,” you say, setting the tray down carefully. “And a promise. No work today. Just you and me”

Her face softens immediately. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. “I’ve cleared my schedule. And booked us a massage. And we’re going to that tapas place you love for dinner”

She grins, looking far too smug for someone who was dramatically sulking less than 24 hours ago. “I knew guilt-tripping you would work”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable. I’m trying to be romantic, and you’re gloating”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” she teases, taking a bite of the pancake. “But if you really want to make it up to me, you can clean the kitchen after this”

You groan, but you know she’s joking. Mostly.

[whoreforsexymen]

Vander 🫗 | SMUT Headcanons

Pairings: Vander x Reader, Dom!Vander x Reader

Rating: NSFW!! 18+, MDNI ! You WILL be blocked.

Pronouns: She/Her + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Word Count: 898

Tags: DaddyDom!Vander, Spit play, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Crawling, Thigh Riding, Rough Sex, Dacryphilia, Size Difference, Etc.

Notes: Just some spicy Headcanons for our big, old, husky, bearded barman 🤍 as well as some for a darker version of our big teddy bear dad 🤍

- Vander is completely enchanted by your lips. Every chance he gets, especially when he cradles your face in his hands, he can’t resist the urge to brush his thumb over them, savoring their softness. It’s also no wonder how primal it makes him feel considering how your own natural instinct is to suck the skin of his thumb gently. Every. Single. Time.

- He can’t help but prod at them until you let him breach the surface. You’re always so hungry for a taste of him, no matter if it’s his cock or his fingers. Always so insatiable, and deeply unsatisfied until moments like these when you’re greedily swirling your tongue around his finger.

- He never wastes time in hooking his thumb into your mouth, toying with making you and your tongue slave to find it. The slickness of your saliva and the sounds that follow are nothing short of immaculate, a perfect blend of neediness and yearning that leave him desperately smitten.

- The way you whimper, and the way your thighs grind together to ease the tension and aching in your clit drives him to the brink—the sounds unraveling him, each one igniting the flames of his own aches.

- He wants nothing more than to switch his fingers out for his cock— but unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to hear you as well. His fingers are slim enough to let the noise pass over them, but his cock would be a different story.

- Vander is a gentle lover by nature, but— like any part of nature, he has his more unpredictable moments. His ‘natural disasters’ or sorts. Though—you wouldn’t necessarily call them ‘disasters’.

- Just as easily as it is for him to spend hours tenderly ramming his cock into you, during more ferocious, needy moments, he’ll waste no time in fucking you senseless. Despite it mainly happening every blue moon, he knew when you needed it like this, and he knew that you’d be willing to take it on the days he needed it like this.

- You both have happily accepted that he’s a man with a wild side to be nurtured every now and then. And you’re so good at nurturing it for him. When laying in bed, he’s started fucking you from behind, quickly losing his patience for tenderness. He’s sat upright against the headboard, and pulled you on top of him, all without ever disconnecting from you for even a moment.

- With your back pressed to his chest, he cups under your knees, almost folding you in half from the way he gripped and pulled them back- as he started slamming his hips at a merciless pace. The angle had you practically foaming at the mouth, considering—with his given strength—he uses minimal effort to bounce you up and down to meet the way he was snapping his hips up into you. The way your ass bounced on his legs is a sight that constantly makes his dick twitch when he thinks back to it.

- The screams you could never bother to try stifling almost kept him up at night sometimes. Too many times have the recollections made him overfill a pint or two behind the bar counter, earning questioning glances from bar patrons. He can’t always help the way his mind wanders when he has you to ravish every night.

- Vander often says things like:

“C’mon Angel— Look at me while you suck my cock dry. I wanna see those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“That’s it— Attagirl. Atta-fuckin’-girl.”

Dom!Vander HC’s

- Will make you kneel on the ground, mouth wide open, pussy dripping, and leave you like that. He’d tell you that you weren’t allowed to swallow your spit. He’d then pull up a chair and sit in front of you, despicably far, and just watch you. He’d wait until your shirt became transparent from how much drool had fallen on it. Then—only then, would he speak.

- “Crawl…” he commands.

- You obey. You crawl to him, almost desperately quick, until you stop at his boots. He’d be tempted to make you grind on them, but he prefers his thighs for that.

- You crawl onto him, straddling one of his massive thighs.

- Just a few minutes into him making you grind yourself down on it, his blue jeans are just as soaked as your shirt.

- “Attagirl.” He’d coo as he’d start guiding your hips for you with his hands. It’s your fault if you think he’s going to let you cum anytime soon, though.

- When he halts all movement once you’re practically falling off the edge of your orgasm, he’d tut at you when you keep trying to desperately find the friction again.

- “Don’t you fight me.” He’d snap as you greedily tried to chase your orgasm, thrashing your hips around against his grip.

- He’d pull your hair and make you look at him, his other hand holding your jaw with contempt.

- Denial was his virtue. He won’t let you cum until you’re crying and begging for mercy.

- “Cry for me, Angel.” He’d command, needing to see the tears in your eyes while you begged for release.

- When you’d get too embarrassed to do so, he’d grip your face tighter.

- “Let. Me. Hear. You.” So you do. You let it out.

- And then—only then, will he slip his thick fingers in you.

- “Excellent. Such a good girl. Now. Get yourself off on daddy’s fingers, yeah?” He’d purr.

[yourlocalcon-man]

There was a period of time I used to have to walk a mile and a half to the nearest bus stop to get to work. My job sucked and the hour long commute by bus made my 8-hour shift more like 10 hours, but I needed the money and they’d give me the hours so I stayed. I didn’t have a car so I didn’t have another option.

And that mile and a half was on a busy part of the road, passing the dump, and there was no sidewalk. There was a shoulder, but no sidewalk so I had to walk on the shoulder and hope nobody got in my way. Now there’s this part of the road that accumulates insane amounts of rain. I’m talking a puddle halfway up your calf, deep enough to almost get in your rain boots, and it took over an entire section of the shoulder about twelve feet long and spilled out into the road.

There was one particular day that it’d rained so hard the puddle was nearly one and a half times its size, and this section of the road people loved to speed on. So for six minutes I stood there hoping there’d be a pause in the traffic long enough for me to run through it. It was 9:15am, I knew it wasn’t gonna happen. I knew I was gonna get soaked.

But then this angel of a stranger was passing by in their car in the closest lane and saw me waiting, and hit their breaks hard before they got to the puddle, and they passed through it as slowly as possible to give me cover and time to get across it. In rush hour traffic in the early morning. And I’ll never forget them, because thanks to them I didn’t have to go to work in a ruined uniform and sit outside in the cold soaked to the bone waiting for the bus. That’s the most thoughtful thing I think as stranger has ever done for me because they got nothing from it. Nothing at all. And I think about it often.

[mintmatcha]

I am so soft for father figure Shinsou, thank you for giving me something I didn’t know I needed. Just doing everyday things with him and him being soft towards you child is giving me life.

Casual. That's the word you used to describe what the meeting should be. Casual.

"He's a good boy, for the most part." Your bag is already stuffed full of toys and towels and other miscellaneous things that Shinso can't imagine you'll need. "His dad spoils him, so he might be a little bratty at first- we're working on it. Well, I'm working on it. His dad is--"

You kneel down and start rummaging through your things.

"Uh, don't let him guilt you into buying him snacks, please. He's got a severe nut and seed allergy and it's just easier if I take care of it all. There's snacks in here, along with two epipens. There's two more in the red cabinet in the kitchen, just in case we ever need them. "

Somehow, you manage to wiggle out the sunscreen for your bag without collapsing the whole pile. You dollop a bit on your fingers.

"Once they get here, we'll go straight to the park and hang out there for just a little bit. The book says the first meeting should be short and we should give him other things to focus out so he doesn't stress out." Your shoulders are bunched by your ears. "It'll be super casual. Easy. No stress."

Shinso kneels down next to you and dips a finger in the sunscreen.

"No stress," Shinso repeats back, dotting the sunscreen on your nose. It's enough to urge a smile out of you.

"Sorry, I know I'm--" You toss your hands in the air, frazzled, but with a smile. "This is a big deal."

"I know it is."

"We've only been dating for eight months," you say/ "What if we're jumping the gun? I don't want to put him through this if-"

"I'm not planning on breaking up with you." Ever. Shinso wouldn't have agreed to this if he wasn't completely sure that you were the one for him. It's not that he doesn't like children, it's that he's never spent time with any. Only child, no cousins: he doesn't know anything about kids other than the fact he used to be one.

You reach other and dot Shinso's nose with sunscreen. Now, you're matching.

"You might break up with me after you see what I'm dealing with."

Shinso takes your hand. "I'm not going to leave because you have a kid."

"I was talking about his father," you heave out a sigh. "They'll probably be late, by the way."

-

They are late.

Significantly.

It's six hours past the allotted time, filled with weak excuses from you. The television has rolled into the second season of some trashy show, but neither of you are really watching.

"He always loses track of time," you repeat for the twentieth time, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. Shinso is long past disappointed, well into the area of 'pissed'. Mostly at your ex, partially at you, for letting it happen.

"He's still not calling you back?"

"No," you say, just like you've said before. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him know about you, he's just-- I dunno. Playing games with me again."

It contextualizes a lot of your behaviors, actually. The anxiety about getting home, the days you go radio silent, the dates where you suddenly have to run off and collect your child: he imagines there's a lot of bullshit games that happen between you two.

"You let him treat you like this?"

"He's my baby's father. I can't just..."

[turquoizxe]

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― arcane s2 spoilers!!, drabble/hc; fluff, some angst, Ekko is absolutely smitten for the reader, friends to lovers, suggestive *in very few areas

author's note ― there's not enough drabbles/fics for Ekko and its pissing me awf. I must intervene.

wc ― 0.974k

Ekko wasn't sure if he'd find anyone else after Jinx

He had no choice but to live without her, even after experiencing what could have been had things been different.

It ate at him, constantly, knowing what their lives could have been, but he loved his home enough to save it

After the Vigil, Ekko kept to himself for quite sometime

He remained with his Firelights, continuing to redevelop his haven after everything that occurred

Remaining occupied meant he didn't have enough time to sit and think about all that had unraveled the past few months

On the days he was left in solitude, he sketched and tried to remember the best parts, or how to move ahead

He'd reunite with Vi every now and again, but she was busy handling her own business with Caitlyn. The environment had changed, and it was hard to tell if it was for the best or the worst

He would travel to Piltover more frequently, but it was harder due to the memories it held, and he didn't see much of a point in staying outside of grabbing supplies

You met Ekko while on a supply run, stealing the last stock of bolts he needed. He was having an awful day when you ran into him, so his demeanor was one he wasn't sure he had in him

Despite this, you still offered to share your bolts, if he wasn't being an ass, and if he showed you what he was working on for him to be so frustrated with a stranger

He was careful not to yet invite you to the home that he shares with the Firelights

You were understanding of his skepticism and invited him to your workshop instead, just outside of Piltover, but not necessarily in the area of Zaun

The device he showed you felt far more valuable than what you had been working on. Despite its rickety condition, he spoke of it so passionately, and you could tell this craft was something he was passionate about

You invited him back, and you gave him the hours you would usually be here if he was ever comfortable returning

After your first encounter, you weren't sure if he'd be back, but it shockingly didn't take long for him to return

What became maybe once a week, turned to twice, and then frequent visits

You'd both would often go on runs together, and when Ekko wasn't with the Firelights, he found himself spending more time in Piltover, but mainly if you were involved in that exploration

The first night after you met, he didn't get much sleep. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him feel that way; It felt so instant, without hesitation or question

He would have called you an idiot for being so trusting to a stranger, but he felt like a fool for the emotions he was already experiencing.

It was hard for him to process how the chemistry you exude when together was automatic.

As time went on, he let his guard down around you, when he was around you, it all felt natural. A year had gone by without either of you noticing

The night, when the anniversary of the Mass Vigil was held, he stayed longer than you both had expected, a lingering tension between the two of you.

Even without talking, the lack of conversation made him feel vulnerable― susceptible to questions he wasn't sure if he was ready to answer yet

The wounds were still so fresh, you had half the mind to not ask if he knew anyone that was lost in the war, but before you could ask, he went off into the night, leaving you to wallow in your own thoughts

Weeks had passed since you had seen him

These days, you don't hear much from Ekko. And even when you mourned his lack of presence, it hadn't taken much time before it started to anger you

Ekko had realized long ago that he had feelings for you. He often fought the urge to be defenseless around those he cared for most. He wasn't sure if that was possible with you until it was

He was so enamored with you and never missed a moment to brag to his colleagues about your brilliance

You reminded him so much of her, and you deserved to be your own person in his eyes. He feared that if this went any further, he'd try to create comparisons that weren't fair to either of you.

The more time you spent apart, he spent more time admiring the distinctions. The emotions you evoked from him felt foreign. He couldn't place a finger on it, but he wanted to explore it further

More weeks had passed before he showed up at your workshop, knocking at your door instead of climbing through the window like he used to. The change in behaviors made you pout a bit more than what was already plastered on your face

Ekko had revealed his creation, the device he had been working on for weeks. The bolts you had landed him were engraved with your initials

You sat him down, spending time to catch up. While you wanted to be mad, you weren't sure if the feelings you were experiencing were even mutual, until he made riddance of your doubts

He didn't make it back to the Firelights that night, spending the night wrapped and reveling in passion that had been festering itself. You had never been this intimate, the night filled with nervous laughs and mistakes, but it made him feel human again

The walls he had worked to build had swiftly crumbled whenever you came into the picture

There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for you, and he'd fight just as hard to save you

No matter the universe

― turquoizxe

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

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. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[paullovescomics]

The majority of the US is definitely not walkable. Cities in the northeast are probably most likely to have more walkable sections, because they were fairly developed before cars took over, but the rest of the country is purposefully built around the car. A lot of smaller towns that used to have walkable downtowns tore down most of it to make room for more "modern" uses back in the 1970s.

I grew up in a small city that had a population somewhere around 40,000 when I was in high school. It was one of the top 5, maybe top 3 biggest cities in the state. Most neighborhoods had no sidewalks. The street in front of our house doubled as a section of a major state highway, so there were lots of speeding cars on it. Even with that, as a kid I used to walk a few blocks down to the convenience store to buy comics, but there was no grocery store within walking distance. This was in the 1980s, before all the fear of predators, and my dad also worked in the neighborhood, so my parents weren't too freaked out about me doing this. I severely doubt that any parents living there now are letting their kids walk a mile to the Snak Pak.

Now I live in a city of about 300,000 people. Probably in the top six cities in the state for population. We have buses that run seven days a week, but because the city is so spread out and simply not planned for mass transit or walking, all of the bus routes have to start and end at a central hub. If you live in the Northeast of the city and want to take a bus to the Northwest, you get on the nearest bus (that can involve quite a walk), ride it to the depot downtown, then get on the bus that goes closest to your destination. A trip that is 15 minutes by car is 45 minutes to an hour by bus (and that's just the time on the bus, not walking to and from stops). Earlier this year, my car was in the shop for a while, and the nearest bus stop was two miles away, even though I am in a fairly densely populated area. I'm just a bit on the edge of the city, and there are wealthy neighborhoods around here that have no use for the bus, so the limited transit resources are more needed elsewhere. In many parts of the city, there are no sidewalks, or sidewalks only on one side of the street. The downtown is walkable, but that's only a few blocks, and it's restaurants and coffee shops, not daily needs kind of stuff. And my city is considered progressive!

A few years ago, I lived in a smaller city that borders this one. There was a Dollar Store that was within walking distance, but there were no sidewalks. There were, however, drainage ditches on both sides of the road, and people drove like maniacs, so you did not walk unless you had absolutely no other choice. This is not a uncommon situation.

And all the malls, then the big box stores, killed all the smaller shops that used to be a bit closer long ago. Even the convenience stores are less common, because they've been combined into bigger gas stations with fewer convenience items and more gas pumps, designed for people driving to work, not for people who live in the neighborhood.

A lot of homeowners do not want their neighborhoods to be walkable. Heaven forbid an "undesirable" person might walk down Willowbrook Lane and possibly threaten the resale value of somebody's house. Or a family walking down the street with arms full of groceries might suggest that they can't afford a car, and what would people think?! Public transit is for those overcrowded cities with their teeming poor and rampant crime, not for nice neighborhoods like ours with big lawns that prove we are living right.

Okay, that last paragraph got preachy, but hopefully the point still came across. Americans are rarely able to choose walking as a viable option.

“America IS walkable, you’re all just lazy” my childhood home was an hour from the nearest hospital (by car)

[bohemianblasphemy]

Okay well now I need to know what’s written on the “paperwork” Spencer drops off at work. 😳 Tell me bestie, I need to know. I NEEEEEDDD!

Secrets in Ink

Based on a headcanon from this post ✨

(Also thank you cas for your help 🥺🖤)

There were perks of working at the BAU with your partner- being around each other for the working hours, spending breaks talking about your day; a downside however is having to keep your hands to yourself.

And man, was it difficult with Spencer Reid is your partner.

The day was dragging, and it seemed that the pile of loose papers and files to be sorted wasn’t getting any smaller.

A small frustrated groan left your mouth, rubbing your dry tired eyes as you tried to keep yourself awake.

Spencer observed you from his desk, seeing your weary demeanour and he frowned a little bit- trying to think of a way to make you feel better.

And of course, with that IQ of 187 and knowing you like the back of his hand, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and acquired his pen.

He took his time to write you a note- carefully obscuring what he was composing to any wandering eyes that may be present, wanting to create something that was going to make you shiver and look forward to your… after work activities.

With a small, satisfied smile he signed off of the sweetly sensual letter- folding it neatly in half as he stood up to make his way over to you.

You were so deep in your paperwork, not noticing the tall figure walking toward you- not until he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey sweetie…” he whispered, observing you as you had broken out of your trance. You looked up at him, seeing his small smile and tousled curls, god he looked good- he always did.

“Hey Spencer… more paperwork for me?” You chuckled half heartedly, gesturing to the folder piece in his hand.

“Not work related… just a little something for you.” He smiled, placing the paper on the desk in front of you. Spencer’s hand gently reached your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb.

“Just to make you feel better…”

That gentle gesture… fuck it did things to you.

“Thank you Spencer…” you leaned into his touch, gazing up at him with a small twinkle in your eye.

He gazed back at you, as though you the centre of the universe - the centre of his.

Spencer bent over slightly to whisper in your ear.

“Read it, but make sure no one else sees it. For your eyes only.” His gentle yet firm words were followed up with a sweet kiss on the cheek, seeing the blood rush to them as he pulled away and began to walk back to his desk.

Your curiosity overwhelmed you, unfolding the piece of paper to see what he had been written…

My sweet girl,

I don’t think you realise how hard it is to keep my hands to myself as I see you across the room, wanting to take you into one of the vacant offices and absolutely enrapture you.

The mere thought of bending you over on that empty desk, hearing those sweet sounds that you make as I take you from behind- makes it hard for me to control myself.

It should be a crime that I can’t touch you while we’re on cases; the temptation to let my fingers wander under your skirt and play with you whilst we fly in the jet - the added risk of getting caught whilst doing so making it all the more thrilling.

All I crave everyday is your lips, your touch, the taste of you between your thighs.

Once we are home tonight you are mine; to take care of, to love, to make you cum…

Yours,

Spencer

The fire that burned within you created a deeper red flush to surface on your skin as you finished reading it.

His words stirred desire through you, biting your lip as you thought of them and glanced back at him- cocking your eyebrow suggestively at him.

Spencer smirked as he saw your flustered expression , knowing that his words affected you greatly - but that changed when he noticed Garcia sneaking behind her, her eyes trying to focus on what’s there.

“Whatcha got there, sunshine?” Garcia grins, pulling you from your focus on Spencer. Your eyes widened, rapidly folding the sheet in half and shoving it into your bag on your desk.

“N-nothing- nothing at all Pen.” You replied, clearing your throat to try to seem inconspicuous.

“Mhm sure honey, I know that look, and Spencer’s not exactly making your case any better.” She teased- waving at Spencer across the way in which he returned with a sheepish expression.

After giving you a wink, she turned to walk back to her office- her heels clicking on the floor as you look down at your desk in a flustered manner.

You looked back up at him, not being able to keep a straight face as you started to giggle, which in return made Spencer smile in adoration for you.

Tonight couldn’t come any faster…