#like.. if everyone is then where are they going with this.. but if they’re not then why bother to hint at it…

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's younger sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[moonstruckme]

I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?

If not don’t worry about it<3

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: alcohol

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words

“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 

“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 

“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 

Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 

You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”

“You mean my palm lines?” 

“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 

Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you’re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 

“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 

“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 

“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 

You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.

Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 

Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 

I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.

Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.

You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 

On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 

“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 

“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 

As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 

“Time to go,” he tells you. 

You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 

Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 

“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 

Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 

“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 

Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 

“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”

[shiranuieditorial]

Japanese → English translation of an excerpt from an interview with MUCC lead vocalist Tatsurou (逹瑯):

A: Efforts to maintain relationships can feel somewhat negative, don’t you think? Essentially, it means that someone has to push themselves beyond their limits. I believe that in any relationship, there are moments when we must endure something for the sake of the other person; however, that endurance shouldn’t have to be an unbearable sacrifice. At most, it’s about saying, “I’ll hold back on this part of myself to support this aspect of you,” which is a more positive form of patience.

Q: I think it’s impossible to maintain a balance where everyone endures equally. But why do you think we manage to get so close to that ideal? It doesn’t seem like we’re diligently directing traffic, after all.

A: Indeed, it doesn’t appear that we’re directing traffic. Just… I don’t really understand it well myself, but surprisingly, even when I have to endure or feel stressed about something, I tend to forget it after a night’s sleep (laughs). It doesn’t completely vanish, but I find that I stop caring about it. My anger and frustration don’t last very long. So, I just think, “Well, whatever.” (laughs)

Q: The fact that you possess such a character is what makes you who you are, Tatsurou-san. I feel that this is one of the reasons for MUCC’s natural continuity.

A: I’m not entirely sure about myself; however, if I were the type who bottled things up and accumulated stress, I might have exploded at one of the other members at some point. If there had been even one member like that, things might have been different; but in reality, I see up close how everyone else is also struggling silently and doing their best without saying anything. For instance—Miya has an immense workload in terms of music, so, I imagine he must be going through a lot as well. Thus, even if there are moments when I think, “Wow!” I also think, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Because of this understanding, I don’t feel the need to complain.

Q: All four of you share a positive sense of “It can’t be helped” towards each other. Moreover, the parts where you play “MUCC’s Tatsurou” or “MUCC’s Miya” are quite minimal.

A: Yes. Also, for example, in the case of vocalists from other bands, they might have many invisible tasks to handle; however, in my case, I don’t often think “It’s unfair that I’m doing all the work while everyone else is slacking off.” Since I chose this position, I think it can’t be helped. Ultimately, despite everything, I believe we maintain a balance. When watching the rhythm section during individual practice before recording sessions, they seem to be under considerable pressure; they start recording much earlier than me and need to prepare quickly. Seeing everyone creating backing tracks in the studio looks incredibly demanding; plus, since our leader can be quite strict, they’re probably feeling overwhelmed (laughs). Of course, my own lyric writing can also become quite demanding later on; however, in that sense, everyone experiences similar levels of hardship. It feels like everything balances out in some way.

Image alt text for the original Japanese article:

係を保つための努力って、なんかネガティブじゃないですか。 それはつまり誰かが無理をするってことだし。 お互い、人間関係のためになにかしらの我慢をする部分というのはあると思うけど、それは我慢しきれない我慢ではないというか。 せいぜいそれは「相手のこういうところを立ててあげるために、自分のここは我慢よう」みたいなポジティブな我慢じゃないかと思うから。

———全員が公平に我慢する、というバランスを保つことも不可能だと思うんです。 だけどそれにすごく近いことができているのはなぜだと思います？ 一生懸命に交通整理しているようにも見えないし。

たしかに交通整理はしてないですね。 ただ。 。 。 。 。 。 よくわかんないけど、俺ね、意外と、我慢したりとか、ストレスたまるようなことがあっても、ひと晚経つと忘れちゃうんですよ（笑）。 ホントにきれいに消えちゃうわけじゃないんだけど、どうでも良くなってしまう。 怒りとかモヤモヤとかが、そんなに持続しないんで。 だから、ま、いいやって（笑）。

———その性格の持ち主が達瑯さんである、ということ。 それがムックの自然な継続の一因でもあるような気がします。

自分ではよくわかんないけど。 ただ、俺が結構我慢しちゃってストレスをため込むようなタイプだったりしたら、それが爆発したときにメンバーの誰かにあたってたかもしれないとは思う。 俺にかぎらず、1人でもそういうメンバーがいたら違ってたかもしれない。 だけど実際には「こいつも大变なのに、なにも言わずにがんばってるしなあ」というのを間近で見てるから。 それこそミヤも音楽的な意味での仕事量がすごく多いから、大变だろうなと思うし。 だからなんか「うわっ！」う思うことがあったとしても「ま、しょうがねえか」う思うし。 そこで文句を言おうとも思わないから、別に。

———4人全員がお互いに対してポジティブな意味での「しようがない」という感情を持っている。 しかも「ムックの達瑯」とか「ムックのミヤ」というものを演じている部分がきわめて小さいというか。

うん。 あと、たとえばほかのバンドのボーカルの場合、目に見えない仕事が多いんじゃないかと思うんですよ。 だけど俺の場合「俺ばっか仕事で、みんなズルいよ」と思うこともそんなにないし。 このポジションを選んだ��上、しょうがないと思うし。 やっぱ、なんだかんだでバランスがとれてると思うんですよね。 リズム隊とかを見てても、レコーディング前の個人練習とかで詰めてるのを見てると、やっぱり大变そうだなあとか思うし。やっぱ俺なんかよりもみんな、ずっと早くからレコーディングがはじまるわけで、準備にも早く取りかからないといけないわけで。みんながスタジオでオケ作ったりしてるのを見てると、いかにも大变そうだし、しかもリーダーがスパルタだから、ヒーヒー言ってる部分もあるし（笑）。ま、俺も俺で作詞とかがあとから大变だったりはするんだけど、そういう意味では、ある種みんな同程度にしんどいというか、帳尻が合ってるというか。そういうところも確実にあるんで。

[straylightdream]

understand | coming soon

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: yoon joenghan x f.reader

↳ Watching your “best friend” marry your ex is heart breaking. At least Jeonghan is by your side. He’s the only one who could make you feel less heartbroken.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: friends to lovers, non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ??

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, mutual pining, they’re both head over heels for each other. Unprotected sex (the mc is on birth control), body worship, oral

an: this was inspired by the song understand by keshi

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

-PREVIEW-

“I didn’t bring a date,” he simply stated.

You pushed your eyebrows together and gave him a confused look, it was rare Jeonghan ever went to an event without a date. “That’s odd,” you said with a little laugh as you swayed to the beat of the music.

He didn’t say anything, Jeonghan just gave you a smile and pulled you slightly closer to his body. You swayed to the beat of the slow song the band was playing.

“I should have asked you to dance long before now,” he said softly.

“I was hiding in a corner not many people knew where I was,” you let out a soft little laugh.

He shook his head and said, “I’m saying I should have taken you out on a proper date.” His words caught you off guard. “I shouldn’t have waited until the night of your asshole ex’s wedding.” You blankly stared at him just confused by what he was saying to you. You have always had a crush on Jeonghan for most of your life, but you didn’t think in a million years he would ever return your feelings. He’s the talked around town with all the girls. He’s charming and oh so handsome. He could have any girl he could possibly ever want. You’re confused as to why he would want you.

“Why would you ask me out?” You asked speaking up for the first time.

“Because you’re pretty and funny and why wouldn’t I?” He stopped dancing and reached down and grabbed your hand. Lacing your fingers together he led you out of the ballroom where everyone was still dancing and you headed out to the balcony.

You stood outside in the crisp night air. You silently stared at him, not even sure what was going on. You weren't sure if this was all a nightmare for the fact you were at your best friend's wedding where the man she was marrying was your ex boyfriend or if it was a dream based on the fact Jeonghan just admitted he wished he’d taken you out on a proper date.

“Honey I like you, I have for a while,” he stated. Your eyes grew wide, shocked by his words. “You were so torn up by that asshole in there I didn’t know what to do.”

“You literally leave tomorrow for a month-long business trip,” you sighed. You weren't even going to get a chance with him before he was gone for a whole month, maybe even more.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered.

[ruewrote]

𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader WARNINGS: josh breaks down to you, no use of y/n GENRE: angst but more fluff SONG INSPIRATION: lay it all on me by rudimental WORD COUNT: 2k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

it was well past midnight when your phone rang, disturbing the silence of your apartment. you groggily fumbled for it on your nightstand, squinting at the screen. josh. your heart dropped into your stomach.

he never called this late unless something was wrong. the sound of his name, even in the dead of night, was enough to pull you out of sleep.

“josh?” you answered, sitting up, suddenly wide awake.

he didn’t respond immediately. you could hear his breathing, ragged and uneven, like he was struggling to catch his breath. it was enough to send a spike of worry straight through you.

“josh, hey, what’s going on? are you okay?”

“i–” his voice cracked, and the sound broke something inside of you.

“i need you. please… can you come over?”

you were already moving, tossing off your blanket and grabbing your coat from where it hung on the back of your chair. “i’m on my way,” you promised, your voice firm despite the fear creeping into your nerves. “hang tight, okay? i’m on my way right now.”

the drive to his apartment felt like it took hours instead of minutes, the city lights blurring past as you pressed harder on the gas. your mind raced, a thousand scenarios playing out, each one worse than the last. you knew josh had been struggling lately.

old memories resurfacing, the weight of the past dragging him down. but he rarely asked for help, let alone called you in the middle of the night sounding so... broken.

when you finally reached his building, you sprinted up the stairs two at a time, barely pausing to knock before pushing open the door to his apartment. it wasn’t locked, and that only made your chest tighten with worry.

“josh?” you called out into the darkened space. the only light came from the city’s glow through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. you found him in the living room, curled up on the couch, clutching his head in his hands.

he didn’t look up as you approached, but you heard the sharp intake of breath as he realised you were there.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, dropping to your knees in front of him. your hands hovered over his, not wanting to overwhelm him but aching to touch, to comfort. “i’m here now. what happened?”

josh’s head snapped up then, his eyes wild and glassy. “i saw them,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “they were right here. i swear i could hear them screaming... i can’t–” his words dissolved into a choked sob, he squeezed his eyes shut as if that could block out the images.

your heart clenched painfully at the sight of him like this, so raw and vulnerable. you’d seen josh put on his bravado before, cracking jokes and averting how he was feeling by making sure everyone else was okay. but this was different. this was the real him, laid bare and hurting, and it killed you to see the man you loved like this.

without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. he flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“they’re not here, josh,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “it’s just us. you’re safe.”

he shook his head violently, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. “no, i can still see them. it’s like they’re… they’re blaming me. i can feel it.”

“look at me,” you pleaded, moving closer until you were almost nose to nose, your other hand finding it’s way to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “it’s not real. it feels real, i know, but you’re here with me now. you made it through, josh. you survived.”

“i shouldn’t have,” he rasped, his eyes welling with fresh tears. “they didn’t, and i did. why do i get to be here when they don’t?”

“because you deserve to be,” you said sternly, letting the words hang in the space between you. you swallowed thickly, the love you held for him swelling in your chest, making your voice tremble. “i know you don’t believe that right now, but i do. and i’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”

his eyes searched yours desperately, looking for something to hold on to. “why are you here?” he asked, the question slipping out so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “why do you keep coming back?”

you exhaled shakily, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. you’d been hiding it for so long, burying your feelings under layers of friendship and concern, but now, looking at him like this, it felt right to tell him the truth.

“because i love you, josh,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “because i can’t stand to see you like this and not do anything about it. i love you, even when you’re hurting like this, especially when you’re hurting like this.”

for a moment, everything went still. you could hear the rain pounding against the windows, the distant murmur of the city outside. but between the two of you, there was only silence, a tense, fragile thing that felt like it might shatter with the next breath.

something in his expression softened, and his hands reached out, grasping your wrists like he was afraid you might slip away. “you love me?” he whispered.

“i do,” you nodded, feeling tears stinging your own eyes now. “and i’m not going anywhere. not tonight, not ever. i’m here, josh. i’ve got you.”

he let out a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. you clung to him just as tightly, feeling the way his body shook against yours, the way his breath hitched as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“you’re too good to me,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

“no,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple, lingering there as you stroked his hair. “i’m just what you need.”

for the first time that night, you felt him relax, the tension slowly draining from his body as he melted into your embrace. you held him there, rocking gently, whispering soothing words until his breathing evened out, his grip on you loosening but not letting go.

“i’m here,” you repeated, the promise sinking into the silence of the room. “i’m not letting go.”

and you meant it, more than anything you’d ever said before.

the tension in josh’s body slowly faded away in your arms, replaced by a heavy, exhausted weight as the last of his sobs quieted. he clung to you as though you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the present, to reality. 

his breathing was still ragged, but it had started to even out, the frantic edge fading into something softer.

you shifted a little, your fingers still tracing up and down his back, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “let’s get you to bed,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

josh tensed for a moment, he wasn’t ready to let go, but when you started to pull back. he released you reluctantly. he wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffling. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and raw. “i didn’t mean to–”

“hey,” you cut him off, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “you don’t have to apologise, not for this. you needed me, and i came. that’s all.”

he nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. you took his hand, squeezing it gently as you helped him to his feet. he swayed a little, unsteady, and you tightened your grip, steadying him. his fingers intertwined with yours almost as if he was afraid to let go, and it made your heart ache.

“c’mon,” you said softly, guiding him toward his bedroom. you led him to the bed, pulling back the covers before easing him down. he sank into the mattress, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made you want to wrap him up and shield him from everything that had ever hurt him.

you tucked the blanket around him, smoothing your hand over his chest as if you could soothe away the remnants of his panic. his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a shiver running through him.

you slipped off your shoes and climbed into bed beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. he rolled onto his side, facing you, and without thinking, you reached out, your fingers threading through his hair again. you combed through the soft, messy strands, gentle and rhythmic, he let out a deep sigh, finally letting himself start to relax.

you began to hum quietly, the familiar tune of a lullaby you knew he loved. a song you’d sung together on countless road trips, or played during quiet moments when the world outside didn’t matter. you felt the tension melt away from his body bit by bit, his sniffles becoming further apart, until they were just occasional, quiet sounds.

josh’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowing, you thought he might be asleep. you kept stroking his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy. the love you felt for him was a tangible thing, filling up the space between you, wrapping around him like a blanket.

you pressed one last, lingering kiss to his forehead, lingering just a moment longer than you probably should have.

“goodnight, josh,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a tenderness you could no longer hide.

you waited a beat, your heart squeezing in your chest, before slowly beginning to pull back. you slipped out from under the covers, careful not to wake him as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. you had just managed to stand up when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“don’t go,” josh mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. his grip on your wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you there, to keep you from leaving. “please stay.”

you turned back to him, your eyes meeting his. he looked up at you, his face half buried in the pillow, his eyes glassy and pleading. “i… i don’t want to be alone.”

your resolve crumbled in an instant. how could you possibly leave him when he needed you like this? 

you squeezed his hand in return, you nodded. 

the way he looked at you, the raw plea in his voice... you couldn’t say no.

“of course,” you whispered, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “i’ll stay as long as you need.”

you crawled back into bed, settling beside him, and this time when you wrapped your arms around him, he pressed closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin, a soft, steady rhythm that matched the beating of your heart.

he let out a contented sigh, his entire body relaxing against yours. “thank you,” he breathed, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers resuming their soothing pattern through his hair. “you don’t have to thank me,” you replied. “i’m right where i want to be.”

he didn’t say anything after that, just nuzzled closer, the last of his sniffles fading into silence. you felt his breathing slow, becoming deep and even, and it wasn’t long before you could tell he was asleep.

you kept combing your fingers through his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy, the sound of his steady breaths lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness.

you’d meant to stay awake, to make sure he was okay, but the warmth of his body against yours, the comfort of having him so close, made it impossible. you pressed one last kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you weren’t going anywhere, before letting your eyes flutter shut.

and for the first time in a long time, you both fell asleep easily.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @joshwashingtonmybeloved

© ruewrote 2024.

[tinfoilmagician]

THIS. I was angry at first, because anger is an easier feeling to hold than mourning, but this second Trump term will be far worse on many of the people that voted for him than it will be for me. I’m in an insulated blue area, though my state turned completely red, and I’m not living paycheck for paycheck. If something drastic happens and my state has banned abortion, I have the privilege to be able travel to a nearby state. I’m safer than many other queer people in my community because of the intersections of my privilege, and I’m angry for the sake of my friends who are not as safe and you bet your ass I’ll use my privilege to support them but by now I mourn more than I rage.

From what I’ve seen, many people who voted for Trump are desperate and living paycheck to paycheck and the Democrats completely failed to appeal to them. They were struggling and yearning for some change. They may not have had access to the quality of the education that I did, where I learned how tariffs work and the US governing process, so I learned that the guy is so full of shit it is unreal and he has no idea how to govern or fix an economy the way he promised. The economy’s getting shittier and shittier and more people are suffering because of corporate greed and Trump and other Republican politicians have sold desperate people lies in order to get them to buy into a plan that only helps the wealthy. These tariffs and this denaturalization will hurt so many poor and marginalized people, including those who Trump conned into voting for him. They deserve our support too, because growing solidarity is the main priority.

This isn’t to say that everyone who voted for Trump is a desperate victim of a corrupt politician, and it’s certainly not to say that they’re guiltless in what’s about to happen. Many Trump voters did so out of cruelty that they now feel the right to express openly and we’re seeing that at shocking rates now. I don’t think the people who did so can be helped or even trusted, and I’m glad to see those who voted for him out of bigotry face social consequences. But the people who voted for him out of desperation for change aren’t the same as that. They’re scared, just like us, and they deserve a community that will support them. Offering them support and security with open arms will always be more effective in the fight for collective liberation than alienating people who made that mistake, colossal as it may be, and leaving them to go down far right rabbit holes. We must not deny people the chance to change and grow lest that prevent them from doing so in the first place.

Trump voters on tiktok are EXTREMELY mad about the following:

They just found out what tariffs are

They just found out what denaturalization is

They (particularly black and Hispanic trump voters) just found out that other trump voters are racist

Leftists and liberals don't want to be their friends (they are furious about this)

Leftists keep telling them they hope they get what they voted for (they are really mad about this too)

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How can I make sure my glow-up STAYS REAL ?

You will be ... POPULAR

ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF)

PILE 1

To keep your glow-up authentic, focus on letting go of the need to always feel something big to feel fulfilled. When you’ve lived life on the edge, it’s easy to get used to the thrill and expect that every moment needs to be intense or exciting. But now that you've built a stable life, part of the glow-up is learning to embrace the calm and find meaning in it.

Instead of searching for that next adrenaline rush, start exploring the little things that bring peace, joy, and grounding. You’ve already proven that you can thrive in chaos, but the real challenge is letting yourself be happy in the quiet, simple moments—because that’s where your glow-up will actually stick.

EXTENTED + MOODBOARD

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 2

To keep your glow-up solid, focus on checking in with yourself and embracing rest over rushing. Think of it like taking a step back to make sure you're not forcing anything that doesn’t feel like you. It’s easy to get caught up in what everyone else says a glow-up should look like, but the real flex is making sure it’s for you and not for clout.

If you start feeling like you’re chasing a vibe that doesn’t match your energy, slow down. Give yourself space to recharge and figure out what makes you feel genuinely happy and grounded. A real glow-up shines through when you’re at peace with yourself—not when you're pushing to prove something to others.

EXTENDED + MOODBOARD

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 3

To keep your glow-up real, you’ve got to be willing to let go of the resistance. Right now, you might be holding onto this idea that things should stay the same, that if you let go of old habits, you’re somehow losing a part of yourself. But the truth is, glow-ups aren’t just about appearances—they’re about evolving.

Holding onto old routines and avoiding real change is like trying to paint over cracks without fixing them. You’re not that person who thrives in chaos anymore, and that’s okay. Embrace the fact that you’ve outgrown some things, and don’t be afraid to reset. Real growth happens when you’re open to adjusting, even if it’s uncomfortable.

EXTENDED + MOODBOARD

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

[salemoleander]

Headed back to her base after the session ended, lack of speed weighing down every step, she really shouldn’t have stopped to chat with Joel. He asks about Gem, because of course he does, and she grits her teeth and charitably changes the subject.

He asks again.

Stupidly- because he’s her friend, because he was a Mounder, because she'd love for someone to not learn the hard way- she tries to explain.

“You can’t trust her, Joel. I know you won’t listen, because I’m evil and cursed and everything everyone says and she’s your family-” She spits family like a piece of flint. “-but I’d rather be outcast and know where I stand than pair up with someone like Gem.”

“You’ve got your group, haven’t you? I don’t see why you’re so angry at her for still not trusting you, it’s not like you’re alone. Scott and everyone have welcomed you back with open arms!”

Pearl snorts. “Yeah, to be the family pet. ‘Everyone come look at our bright red monster! Don’t get too close, she bites!’”

“Well, you did immediately start to change your skin to Scarlet Pearl,” Joel points out, dismissive. “Bit weird to do, if you didn’t want everyone to think you’re dangerous.”

“If they’re going to treat me like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, I’d rather just be a wolf. At least then people know I have teeth.” She grins, canines jagged against her bottom lip.

He grimaces, and makes a shooing motion in her direction. “Okay, freaky wolf lady, time to get off my lawn. Go annoy someone else.”

She’s always impressed by how well Joel manages to project disinterest, when there’s a conversation he doesn’t want to be in. Pearl tilts her head, fixing him with a flat, yellow-eyed stare. “How’s the pretending to be family thing going, Joel? Still as much fun as you were hoping for?”

“We’re not pretending, and it’s going great,” he says, stone-faced, eyes trained on the horizon to the right of her shoulder. “Gem’s the best team- the best family I could ask for.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Pearl drawls. “I bet it feels nice right now! You’ve both got sooooo many lives- she isn’t even afraid of you, yet. No paranoia, not like crazy Pearlie and her team.”

Joel flinches - just a tiny bit, she’d never notice if she wasn’t so close to red- and then scoffs. “Well you’ve got one thing right, you are crazy.”

“I might be!” She agrees brightly. “But not about this. Gem’s too new to know how to see past the fear. She doesn’t know where you started, what you used to be.”

“What do you blumming mean, what I used to be?” He looks off-kilter, and Pearl lets that question hang for a moment as the possibilities spin around them: A king? A god? Her friend?

“She doesn’t know you were a wolf, Joel.” Pearl says in a hushed tone, gentle and honest. “Are a wolf, really, can’t change your spots! And when you start dying, when you get hungry, when she sees herself reflected in red eyes, Gem will treat you just like she treats me.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Pearl.” His voice is rough. “I’m not some lone wolf, I have friends now! I was with Grian and Jim, and- last season, even, we were in a group!”

“Some of us- a lot of us!- don’t care about wolves anymore. Especially wolves like you, pretending to be dogs, all loyal and helpful. But Gem is new, and at some point the threat is going to dawn on her.” She offers, voice smooth as glass, “If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll let you die like a dog for her, instead of putting you down herself.”

“You don’t- Get out of our base.” Joel’s knuckles are blanched, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He’s angry - good. Maybe he’ll remember this, when Gem sends him on a suicide mission or cuts him down for the win.

Maybe he’ll learn, faster than she did, there’s no use pretending to be a dog.

[russianbluewitch]

This was a yes/no question but I’m going to give you more detail than you probably wanted:

The book I keep talking about (Game of Noctis, if anyone else reads this and wants to know) does not have this problem; it has a similar adjacent problem that goes like this:

Look at this wonderful magical world where everyone has magic powers!!! But uh oh, magic powers cause societal inequality :(. Let’s ask God to take the magic powers away and then imply in the epilogue that this fixed everything.

Which is not terribly applicable to the real world (even if we read it as an analogy for, say, money, God is not going to descend and delete the concept of money and then go away again). As a child it struck me as a weird form of sour grapes and as an adult I see it as a weird version of the Perfect Solution fallacy (this made up world isn’t perfect so we should abolish it and return to reality! Where everything is famously fair and just!)

Just in case someone is reading my blog for good recommendations for children’s books, Game of Noctis is not nearly as bad as my example

A story that OP might have been describing is Yuppie Psycho, which is set in a cyberpunk dystopia and literally acts like everything is going to be better because the company got a new CEO. I would argue it is not an example of what OP is describing however because Yuppie Psycho is satirical; it’s not supposed to be a blueprint to fix problems, and it’s not the protagonist’s job to fix all of society.

I’m having a hard time thinking of a straight example of what OP is describing but I’m sure they’re somewhere.

It's always disappointing when a series makes a big deal about societal and structural problems in it's setting, making readers think it has interesting things to say about the subject, only to then resolve the problems by fighting The CEO of Racism, John Racist, so that all of society's problems would then get better because they promoted a new CEO.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

And It’s Like the Sky is New

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Warnings: None

Summary: “All at once, everything looks different.”

A/N: Just needed to get something out. I feel like I’m falling behind and letting people down. Dedicated to @shadowcitrine who always lets me know when I’m doing too much. 🩵

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Doin’ too much.”

You looked over your shoulder to find Daryl in the doorway, fingers busy fiddling with the tip of a bolt. You were so tired that you hadn’t even heard him come inside. “No. No, I’m not doing enough.” You disputed quietly, blowing your hair out of your face before turning back to your project, pulling the thread taut and pushing the needle through again. The prison community had grown tenfold and the kids outgrew clothes so fast. Hand-me-downs were necessary. The least you could do is hand them down with less holes.

“Not what I mean.” You heard him push himself off the frame and then his boots as he approached. His knees protested the descent to the concrete floor, but if it bothered him, he never said. “Not all this.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hand that gestured toward the projects you had scattered about: sewing, medical journals, dirty laundry for washing, and the list went on. “If you’ve got a point, Daryl, make it.” You didn’t snap at him. You were too weary for the energy that would require.

His expression remained neutral. “Doin’ plenty out here.” When he leaned in, you nearly reeled, but found you neither had the energy nor the true desire. His hand raised, his index finger tapping the middle of your forehead. “Doin’ too much in here.”

Your eyes followed his hand as he retracted it, letting it drop onto his thigh. He was right, of course. You had been thinking of everyone else for so long that you had forgotten what it even felt like to think of yourself. “Oh? What do you suggest?” You finally replied, placing the sewing on top of the pile.

One side of Daryl’s mouth lifted. “C’mon with me.”

The weather was cool, summer shifting into fall with all of its quiet and colors. The night air felt refreshing on your skin, having been cooped up for days with your projects. Your mind needed to be constantly occupied, lest you fall into the what ifs that consistently hung in the air. You’d be consumed by them, forgetting that you could be more than alive but actually still live.

The night sky was clear, stars twinkling. An entire universe was beyond the hell on earth and you couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere out there, there were other people; another planet where lives were happily moving forward. It was odd to feel jealousy toward something that may not even exist.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” You answered a little too quickly, rolling your head toward the sound of Daryl’s voice. His gaze remained on the sky.

He inhaled deeply, folding his arms behind his head. “Where’d ya go?”

“Nowhere bad.” The stars acted as sparkling magnets and pulled your eyes back toward the sky. “Mostly.” A hum resonated beside you, so deep that you could almost feel it in your own chest. “Do you ever wonder what else is out there?” Your hand came up in a lazy gesture toward the incomplete darkness with its pinpricks of celestial light.

“Nah.” He answered immediately. It was almost insulting how little care he gave the reply. “Ain’t no need when there’s still so much—good right here.”

You laughed at this, turning your head to meet his indignant glare. “What’s so good about here? There’s the threat of—of death around every corner.” Daryl’s expression never wavered, his eyes searching your face. “What’s so good, Daryl?”

His eyes narrowed before he blinked and looked upward. “Them stars. They’re good.” You choked down another laugh. “Nights like this’un. They’re good.” He continued. “Family. That’s good.” Then there was silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable; simply unexpected.

“I guess you’re—”

“You.” His head lolled back toward you. “You’re a good thing.” You only managed the first chuckle of a laugh before realizing there was not even a single hint of humor in the way he gazed at you. The expression may have appeared stoic to anyone else but you—you could see the fondness just below the surface, the sincerity, the truth. Your heart leapt into a somersault when you felt his finger graze the side of your hand.

“You, uh—” You swallowed hard, bearing witness to the moonlight catching in his eyes, making them almost silver under its influence. “You’re a good thing too.” Daryl stared at you a little longer before returning his attention to the sky, simultaneously lacing his fingers through yours. You, however, couldn’t seem to look away.

You’re not a good thing, Daryl. You’re the best thing.

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 12

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Chapter 12

Y/n sits, bouncing her leg as she waits with the pack at the table for her brother.

“Kitten.” Minho places his hand on her bouncing leg, having chosen to sit next to her to make sure she ate during dinner and whispers. “What’s wrong?”

She looks up at him. “Just a bit anxious.”

“Did you take your meds today?” She nods a yes at his question causing him to sigh. “Everything will be okay, it’s just your brother. He wouldn’t tell the rest of your family about meeting up with you, right?”

“No, he wouldn’t.” She relaxes a little. “He doesn’t talk to them anymore but just makes me wary.” 

“Everything will be okay.” The alpha reassures her. “We’re all here with you.”

“Y/n.” A tall beta walks up and her eyes brighten.

“Hyuk.” She stands up to hug him and he holds her tight against him for a moment before she lets go.

“It’s good to see you again.” He looks her over. “You’ve been okay?”

“Perfect.” She smiles before turning towards the table. “Everyone, this is my older brother Minhyuk.” She then starts pointing around the table. “Hyuk, this is our pack alpha Chan, our head alpha Changbin, the second oldest alpha Minho, and our youngest alpha Jeongin. Then our head beta Hyunjin, youngest beta Seungmin, and our two omega like betas Jisung and Felix.”

“It’s nice to meet you Minhyuk.” Chan stands to greet him.

“You too, thank you for taking care of my little sister.” The beta bows his head.

“Of course, after we had found her, all we’ve wanted to do was help.” Felix smiles watching as Y/n takes her seat back next to Minho and her brother takes the seat next to her. “Even before we knew she was our fated mate we knew we’d do anything for her.”

“I appreciate it. Not a lot of people would do that, especially for an omega.” He smiles down at his sister. “I’m just glad she’s finally free now.”

Minhyuk watches as Y/n looks over the menu with Minho. “You’ll like this.” The alpha points to something on the menu. “It’s similar to those noodles I made the other day you liked.”

She nods her head but looking at the picture she worries as it looks like a big serving and she knows she won’t be able to eat all of it.

“Do you wanna share Y/nnie?” Felix noticed her look of uncertainty, as he doesn’t like to eat much so he knew this was the best option for both of them. “It’s a lot of food and I know I won’t eat it all.” 

She nods, grateful for his offer before she moves to stand up. “Gotta go to the restroom real quick.” 

They all watch her walk away from the table, but Changbin watches until she disappears behind the door having a clear view of the bathrooms from where he sits and continues glancing over waiting for her to come out. 

“She’s anxious.” Minhyuk points out after she was gone. 

“Has she always dealt with anxiety?” Jisung asks, wanting to find out more about their new mate. 

The beta nods sadly. “Yeah, it probably started when she was about eight. Was bullied at school which caused a lot of anxiety and insecurities. Our family didn’t help either.”

“We’re having her see a therapist and psychologist.” Changbin tells him. “They’ve already put her on medication for her anxiety and are thinking about antidepressants too.” 

Her brother sighs in relief at this. “That’s good, I’ve been saying she needed help with it for years but our family would blow it off saying she has no reason to be anxious or depressed.” 

Seungmin scoffs. “Because they didn’t want to realize they were the cause of it.” He meant for his comment to be more to himself but everyone else heard. 

“So she’s told you guys a bit about how our family treated her?” 

“Yeah.” Jeongin nods sadly. 

“Before she comes back I want to warn you guys about some of her tendencies.” Minhyuk looks around to make sure they’re all listening, which they are. “I don’t know how much you guys have experienced yet but I want to explain in case you have so you can understand why and to warn you of things she tends to do.”

“She doesn’t like to voice her feelings. Will bottle them up instead of talk until she blows and has a breakdown. Our family used to make it seem like her feelings weren’t valid. If you notice she’s bottling stuff up just push her a bit, she’ll give in and talk. And at times she can also go nonverbal. Sometimes it’s just because she’s been very social all day that by the end of it she’s worn out and just doesn’t want to communicate anymore. But other times it can be because she’s in her head about things. It could be because something was said to cause her to overthink or just her brain being cruel to her.”

“I personally think the reason for it is because she would get purposely ignored as a kid if she’s been overly talkative and as punishments. So she feels she just needs to silence herself either to punish herself or because she thinks she’s being too much. Just be patient with her. She’ll still communicate when directly spoken too either through hand motions or by writing or texting someone. She’ll usually pick someone to be the main person to communicate to, have them read what she writes. When it was her friend group she always just picked whoever she felt the closest to that day.”

The younger four just look at Minhyuk, sad to hear that their omega feels she has to do things like that. The older four are pissed that she went through that, all of them wanting to change her mindset from here on out for the better. 

Y/n walks back over, noting that Changbin watched her the entire time until she was settled back in her seat between her brother and Minho. She also notices how heavy the air is as they all look at her with different expressions between pity, sadness and protectiveness. 

She turns to her brother. “What did you tell them?” 

“Nothing they shouldn’t be aware of.” 

The omega eyes her older brother before Hyunjin speaks up. “He just wanted to help us understand some stuff, nothing bad, princess.”

“Okay.” She sighs, trusting her brother and her pack. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Do you want a brownie baby?” Jisung asks, grabbing the container of Felix’s homemade brownies he made the day before. 

“You barely even ate your dinner, Ji.” Minho remarks. “And you still need to pack for Jeju island. You don’t get dessert until after that.”

“Hyung.” Jisung pouts as the alpha takes the container from him. “It’s gonna take forever to pack, then it’ll be too late to eat one.”

“Go.” Minho shoos him off before getting two brownies out and giving them to the omegas sitting at the counter. 

“Thanks Min.” Felix beams, taking a bite of his. 

“Have you already packed, pretty girl?” Changbin leans on the counter next to Y/n.

“Yup, packed everything I thought I’d need.” 

“Did you pack your swimsuit?” Felix asks, still chewing his brownie. “We plan to spend a day at the beach.”

She frowns. “I don’t have one.” 

“You guys didn’t make sure she bought a swimsuit when you took her shopping?” Changbin looks at Hyunjin and Jeongin. 

“We didn’t really think about that.” The youngest alpha shrugs. “We were more just thinking of normal everyday clothes she needed.”

“It’s fine.” Chan steps in reassuring everyone. “We’ll just get her a few at one of the shops on the island.” 

“What time are we leaving in the morning?” Hyunjin asks while grabbing a drink from the fridge. 

“I want to be out of the house by seven.” Minho finishes cleaning up a few things that were left out in the kitchen.

“That’s so early.” Hyunjin whines, grabbing himself a brownie and looks at Y/n confused as she still hasn’t eaten hers. 

She’s playing with the paper towel it’s on as if trying to hide it from the eyes of the others and realized why. He quietly grabs a second brownie without anyone seeing before moving over to her, placing it on her first one, helping her hide it in the paper towel. 

“Go.” He whispers in her ear and helps her slide off the chair hiding the brownies. 

“I think I’m gonna call it early and head upstairs.” Y/n announces.

“Alright, goodnight baby girl.” Chan moves to her and kisses the top of her head. 

Everyone else tells her goodnight as she heads upstairs and Hyunjin takes her seat at the counter to eat his brownie next to Felix who is smirking at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” The younger one shakes his head still smiling having seen the entire interaction between him and the omega.

Y/n walks upstairs going straight for Jisungs door and knocks. 

“Yeah?” 

She opens the door and peeks her head in “I brought you something.” 

He smiles motioning for her to come in and she opens the paper towel handing him the top brownie.

“You are an Angel.” He hugs her before taking a bite of his delicious treat and drags her to sit on the floor with him as he packs his bag and she eats her dessert. 

“Do you always procrastinate packing?” She watches him figure out a good way to fit everything in the suitcase. 

“Not always.”

“Don’t lie to our girl, Ji.” Minho walks in as neither of them had shut the door. “I thought I told you no dessert until you're finished?” He then he looks at the omega. “And I thought you said you were going to bed?”

Y/n blushes at getting caught sneaking the beta dessert. “I’m sorry, I just knew he was wanting one.” 

“Relax baby, he’s not actually mad.” Jisung places a hand on her thigh. “He’s just teasing.” 

She looks up at the alpha and sure enough, he isn’t mad. But he is looking at her as if he feels guilty for making her think she was in trouble. 

“Oh.” She whispers and looks away now embarrassed. 

“I think it was very sweet of you to think of Jisung and bring him up a brownie and to eat with him.” Minho kneels in front of her. 

She just nods her head, accepting his words but doesn’t say anything causing him to sigh. 

“I came in originally to make sure Ji was finished and to drag him to sleep in my room as he doesn’t wake up on time if he’s alone.” He continues to explain as he watches the beta zip up his bag. “Why don’t you join us?” 

“Wha…” Y/n looks at them wide eyed and shocked before she quickly starts shaking her head. “No, no, I-I couldn’t…”

“Kitten.” Minho interrupts her. “Don’t you ever try to finish that sentence. You are a part of this relationship as much as the rest of us. Meaning you’re allowed to sleep in any of our rooms with us. You don’t have to stick strictly to yours.”

“Okay.” She stands up. “Let me go change real quick then.” 

“You don’t have to.” Jisung smirks. “It’s an unspoken rule that if you sleep in one of the alphas beds you sleep either naked or in their clothes.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Minho rolls his eyes. “It’s just something the betas do, you don’t have to follow it. We just want you to be comfortable.”

Y/n nods her head, biting her lip as she thinks it over causing Jisung to smirk even wider. “You wanna wear Min’s shirt, don’t you?”

She blushes not looking at either of them and whispers a maybe. 

The alpha smiles with pride, gently grabbing her hand. “Come on baby.” 

After grabbing Jisungs hand, the alpha takes both of them to his room, then let’s go to look in his closet. He first grabs one of the betas favorite shirts to sleep in, giving it to him to change into. Y/n turns away from Jisung to let him change, she’s sure he’s used to changing in front of Minho and wouldn’t care if she saw but she knew she would jump his bones like she’s been wanting to with all of them if she saw him undress. 

“Which one do you want?” Minho brings her out of her thoughts, holding three shirts up in front of him. 

She contemplates which one as she feels each, deciding on the softest and baggiest shirt of the three and he gives it to her. 

“You can change in the corner Angel, we’ll turn away.” Jisung motions as he climbs into bed now wearing the alpha’s shirt and a pair of sweatpants which she assumes also belongs to Minho. “And you can put your clothes in Min’s hamper to get washed.” 

“No peeking.” Y/n gives both of them a side eye before moving to the corner, looking back at them one last time to make sure they were turned away, which Jisung has already gotten comfortable in bed and is watching Minho in the closet who is grabbing his clothes and changing too.

She quickly changes into just Minho’s shirt and her underwear. The shirt falls about mid thigh, covering everything that needs to be. After placing her dirty clothes into the hamper she turns just as the older male is walking over to the bed in just sweatpants. The omega of course can't help but to ogle at his chiseled torso. 

“You’re staring, kitten.” But to be fair, so is he, loving how his girl looks in just his shirt.

She looks up at his face blushing. “Umm… C-can I ask about the…”

“The scar?” The alpha traces the silver line. “It’s from a medical surgery when I was a baby. It grew as I did. Nothing to worry about now.”

“Are you two just going to eye fuck each other or are you going to finally come to bed?” Jisung whines, causing the two to laugh.

Minho slides in next to his beta and lifts the covers for Y/n to slide in too so that he has both of them curled up on either side of him. She watches Jisung lay his head on their alpha’s chest making her want to as well but is unsure about pushing any boundaries. Before she can chicken out though she’s getting pulled into his side by his strong arm so she’s resting her head on the other side of his chest from Jisung. 

“You never have to worry about cuddling, kitten.”

Jisung looks at her, booping her nose. “Some of them, Min included, might not seem like the type to want to cuddle or have physical affection, but I promise you none of us will ever push you away if you initiate it.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Go to sleep you two, we have an early morning.” Minho kisses both of their heads.

“Night hyung, night angel.”

“Night, Jisungie, night Min.”

“Goodnight, babies.”

______________________________________________________________

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series

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@hwangrfrnd @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound

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[pomefioredove]

wait wait wait, your requests are open for noble bell for this weekend only? (if i got that right?!) sound perfect gimme 14 of em. anywhos if i did not getting the date wrong i have one! and if i i did please just let me shrivel up and die, thank you.

post college rollo and reader who live together as “roommates.” they’re 100% more than roommates and everyone can see it but them. rollo is probably some senator or something and insisted reader moves in with him cause he insists that since he’s making laws more just for magicless people there’s literally no where safer for them to be. just basically some domestic fluff with two people who act like they’re married and don’t even realize it. i personally think it would be way cuter to read from the perspective of a third party but if you’re willing to write this you can do it anyway anyhow and i’ll still be happy. thank you! <3

(if i got the weekend wrong i will absolutely die so please let me down gently, i am accoustic so i no no understand very basic things such as “this weekend” or “next saturday” if the day of the week is before a saturday)

oooh a bit of a future au... this is cute

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ and they were roommates

type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda written from a 3rd perspective

Rollo Flamme's favoritism had never been a secret.

He might have been quiet, reserved, repressed beyond all reason, but there were some things even he couldn't hide behind his star-spotted handkerchief.

The very moment you arrived at Noble Bell College, you were his.

Rollo Flamme beheld you with a sort of reverence that could be called sacrilegious. That is to say, one had never seen idolatry until one had seen the way he looked at you, the way he touched you as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he could break you with an unclean hand and a breath.

His coldness and cordiality towards the others never changed.

For all your kindness, your smiles, your gentle touches upon his cheek that he would never have let anyone else give, you could not change him. And you did not try.

It was a tragedy in two parts.

Not that it mattered, of course. Not to you.

As far as you were concerned, the world began and end with each other. In a room full of people, mages and scholars and royalty, Rollo Flamme would still only look at you.

Nothing was confirmed. Your affection for one another was kept to lingering touches and burning glances across the long, morose hallways of Noble Bell.

If anyone had asked, and they certainly did, Rollo's handkerchief would come to sit over his mouth and he would remind them that gossip is unbecoming.

And to be decent, thank you.

Yet the rumors could never be smothered, and they lingered after Rollo's first graduation, and another, and to his seat on the Fleur City Council.

You lived with him.

You lived with him, in his family home.

And he would continue to deny anything romantic, giving the same excuse that he had since Noble Bell, that you simply had no one else to look after you, and it was his duty as a civil servant to see to your care.

Which was utter bullshit.

But, perhaps, bullshit that you both believed.

Outside of the council, it was rare to see him alone. When he went out, he went out with you. When he attended public events, you walked by his side. When he worked at home, you sat in his study, by the fireplace, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

Rollo would excuse himself from small talk and after-hour business like so:

"It's been lovely talking to you, Senator, but I'll be late for dinner,"

"Please, come by my office first thing tomorrow morning. I'm expected at home,"

"I'll have to be going, now. I have an excursion on the town tonight. With whom? Well, whom else?"

It became widely accepted, amongst his colleagues and the public, that Rollo Flamme was married. One might not have guessed, of course, from his cold demeanor, but rumors of the magicless alumni from Noble Bell that he so adored smoldered.

Rollo did not concern himself with the whispers or the knowing looks his colleagues gave each other, until a warm day in late March where a well-meaning secretary from another branch asked if he had any children.

"Children?" he had scoffed. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

The poor secretary looked like he had seen a ghost. "Well... you're married, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. What gave you such an idea?"

And he seemed reluctant to answer.

Rollo had gone home that night with much on his mind. When you asked him if anything had happened at the council, he said "Nothing eventful".

To Rollo, who had lived in Fleur City, lonely yet not alone, for so many years without a kindling of friendship and not a thought on romance, he had never once questioned your relationship. You were his companion. His first, and last. That's all that matters.

Isn't it?

He could ask for nothing more than you. Your voice, your smile, your hands and warmth mingling with his. He was happy with you. Your friendship is enough for him.

Isn't it?

Despite what he tells himself, that night, when you sit close to him in front of the fire, reading a book he recommended simply because he recommended it, Rollo finds himself looking at you twice as much as usual.

He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, and you stay there, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

I actually think everyone needs to read the full article, so here:

"Nevaeh Crain was crying in pain, too weak to walk, blood staining her thighs. Feverish and vomiting the day of her baby shower, the 18-year-old had gone to two different emergency rooms within 12 hours, returning home each time worse than before.

The first hospital diagnosed her with strep throat without investigating her sharp abdominal cramps. At the second, she screened positive for sepsis, a life-threatening and fast-moving reaction to an infection, medical records show. But doctors said her six-month fetus had a heartbeat and that Crain was fine to leave.

Now on Crain’s third hospital visit, an obstetrician insisted on two ultrasounds to “confirm fetal demise,” a nurse wrote, before moving her to intensive care.

By then, more than two hours after her arrival, Crain’s blood pressure had plummeted and a nurse had noted that her lips were “blue and dusky.” Her organs began failing.

Hours later, she was dead.

Fails, who would have seen her daughter turn 20 this Friday, still cannot understand why Crain’s emergency was not treated like an emergency.

But that is what many pregnant women are now facing in states with strict abortion bans, doctors and lawyers have told ProPublica.

“Pregnant women have become essentially untouchables,” said Sara Rosenbaum, a health law and policy professor emerita at George Washington University.

Texas’s abortion ban threatens prison time for interventions that end a fetal heartbeat, whether the pregnancy is wanted or not. It includes exceptions for life-threatening conditions, but still, doctors told ProPublica that confusion and fear about the potential legal repercussions are changing the way their colleagues treat pregnant patients with complications.

In states with abortion bans, such patients are sometimes bounced between hospitals like “hot potatoes,” with health care providers reluctant to participate in treatment that could attract a prosecutor, doctors told ProPublica. In some cases, medical teams are wasting precious time debating legalities and creating documentation, preparing for the possibility that they’ll need to explain their actions to a jury and judge.

Dr. Jodi Abbott, an associate professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Boston University School of Medicine, said patients are left wondering: “Am I being sent home because I really am OK? Or am I being sent home because they’re afraid that the solution to what’s going on with my pregnancy would be ending the pregnancy, and they’re not allowed to do that?”

There is a federal law to prevent emergency room doctors from withholding lifesaving care.

Passed nearly four decades ago, it requires emergency rooms to stabilize patients in medical crises. The Biden administration argues this mandate applies even in cases where an abortion might be necessary.

No state has done more to fight this interpretation than Texas, which has warned doctors that its abortion ban supersedes the administration’s guidance on federal law, and that they can face up to 99 years in prison for violating it.

ProPublica condensed more than 800 pages of Crain’s medical records into a four-page timeline in consultation with two maternal-fetal medicine specialists; reporters reviewed it with nine doctors, including researchers at prestigious universities, OB-GYNs who regularly handle miscarriages, and experts in emergency medicine and maternal health.

Some said the first ER missed warning signs of infection that deserved attention. All said that the doctor at the second hospital should never have sent Crain home when her signs of sepsis hadn’t improved. And when she returned for the third time, all said there was no medical reason to make her wait for two ultrasounds before taking aggressive action to save her.

“This is how these restrictions kill women,” said Dr. Dara Kass, a former regional director at the Department of Health and Human Services and an emergency room physician in New York. “It is never just one decision, it’s never just one doctor, it’s never just one nurse.”

While they were not certain from looking at the records provided that Crain’s death could have been prevented, they said it may have been possible to save both the teenager and her fetus if she had been admitted earlier for close monitoring and continuous treatment.

There was a chance Crain could have remained pregnant, they said. If she had needed an early delivery, the hospital was well-equipped to care for a baby on the edge of viability. In another scenario, if the infection had gone too far, ending the pregnancy might have been necessary to save Crain.

Doctors involved in Crain’s care did not respond to several requests for comment. The two hospitals, Baptist Hospitals of Southeast Texas and Christus Southeast Texas St. Elizabeth, declined to answer detailed lists of questions about her treatment.

Fails and Crain believed abortion was morally wrong. The teen could only support it in the context of rape or life-threatening illness, she used to tell her mother. They didn’t care whether the government banned it, just how their Christian faith guided their own actions.

When they discovered Crain was pregnant with a girl, the two talked endlessly about the little dresses they could buy, what kind of mother she would be. Crain landed on the name Lillian. Fails could not wait to meet her.

But when her daughter got sick, Fails expected that doctors had an obligation to do everything in their power to stave off a potentially deadly emergency, even if that meant losing Lillian. In her view, they were more concerned with checking the fetal heartbeat than attending to Crain.

“I know it sounds selfish, and God knows I would rather have both of them, but if I had to choose,” Fails said, “I would have chosen my daughter.”

“I’m in a Lot of Pain”

Crain had just graduated from high school in her hometown of Vidor, Texas, in May of 2023 when she learned that she was pregnant.

She and her boyfriend of two years, Randall Broussard, were always hip to hip, wrestling over vapes or snuggling on the couch watching vampire movies. Crain was drawn to how gentle he was. He admired how easily she built friendships and how quickly she could make people laugh. Though they were young, they’d already imagined starting a family. Broussard, who has eight siblings, wanted many kids; Crain wanted a daughter and the kind of relationship she had with her mom. Earlier that year, Broussard had given Crain a small diamond ring — “a promise,” he told her, “that I will always love you.”

On the morning of their baby shower, Oct. 28, 2023, Crain woke with a headache. Her mom decorated the house with pink balloons and Crain laid out Halloween-themed platters. Soon, nausea set in. Crain started vomiting and was running a fever. When guests arrived, Broussard opened gifts — onesies and diapers and bows — while Crain kept closing her eyes.

Around 3 p.m., her family told her she needed to go to the hospital.

Broussard drove Crain to Baptist Hospitals of Southeast Texas. They sat in the waiting room for four hours. When Crain started vomiting, staff brought her a plastic pan. When she wasn’t retching, she lay her head in her boyfriend’s lap.

A nurse practitioner ordered a test for strep throat, which came back positive, medical records show. But in a pregnant patient, abdominal pain and vomiting should not be quickly attributed to strep, physicians told ProPublica; a doctor should have also evaluated her pregnancy.

Instead, Baptist Hospitals discharged her with a prescription for antibiotics. She was home at 9 p.m. and quickly dozed off, but within hours, she woke her mother up. “Mom, my stomach is still hurting,” she said into the dark bedroom at 3 a.m. “I’m in a lot of pain.”

Fails drove Broussard and Crain to another hospital in town, Christus Southeast Texas St. Elizabeth. Around 4:20 a.m., OB-GYN William Hawkins saw that Crain had a temperature of 102.8 and an abnormally high pulse, according to records; a nurse noted that Crain rated her abdominal pain as a seven out of 10.

Her vital signs pointed to possible sepsis, records show. It’s standard medical practice to immediately treat patients who show signs of sepsis, which can overtake and kill a person quickly, medical experts told ProPublica. These patients should be watched until their vitals improve. Through tests and scans, the goal is to find the source of the infection. If the infection was in Crain’s uterus, the fetus would likely need to be removed with a surgery.

In a room at the obstetric emergency department, a nurse wrapped a sensor belt around Crain’s belly to check the fetal heart rate. “Baby’s fine,” Broussard told Fails, who was sitting in the hallway.

After two hours of IV fluids, one dose of antibiotics, and some Tylenol, Crain’s fever didn’t go down, her pulse remained high, and the fetal heart rate was abnormally fast, medical records show. Hawkins noted that Crain had strep and a urinary tract infection, wrote up a prescription and discharged her.

Hawkins had missed infections before. Eight years earlier, the Texas Medical Board found that he had failed to diagnose appendicitis in one patient and syphilis in another. In the latter case, the board noted that his error “may have contributed to the fetal demise of one of her twins.” The board issued an order to have Hawkins’ medical practice monitored; the order was lifted two years later. (Hawkins did not respond to several attempts to reach him.)

All of the doctors who reviewed Crain’s vital signs for ProPublica said she should have been admitted. “She should have never left, never left,” said Elise Boos, an OB-GYN in Tennessee.

Kass, the New York emergency physician, put it in starker terms: When they discharged her, they were “pushing her down the path of no return.”

“It’s bullshit,” Fails said as Broussard rolled Crain out in a wheelchair; she was unable to walk on her own. Fails had expected the hospital to keep her overnight. Her daughter was breathing heavily, hunched over in pain, pale in the face. Normally talkative, the teen was quiet.

Back home, around 7 a.m., Fails tried to get her daughter comfortable as she cried and moaned. She told Fails she needed to pee, and her mother helped her into the bathroom. “Mom, come here,” she said from the toilet. Blood stained her underwear.

The blood confirmed Fails’ instinct: This was a miscarriage.

At 9 a.m, a full day after the nausea began, they were back at Christus St. Elizabeth. Crain’s lips were drained of color and she kept saying she was going to pass out. Staff started her on IV antibiotics and performed a bedside ultrasound.

Around 9:30 a.m., the OB on duty, Dr. Marcelo Totorica, couldn’t find a fetal heart rate, according to records; he told the family he was sorry for their loss.

Standard protocol when a critically ill patient experiences a miscarriage is to stabilize her and, in most cases, hurry to the operating room for delivery, medical experts said. This is especially urgent with a spreading infection. But at Christus St. Elizabeth, the OB-GYN just continued antibiotic care. A half-hour later, as nurses placed a catheter, Fails noticed her daughter’s thighs were covered in blood.

At 10 a.m., Melissa McIntosh, a labor and delivery nurse, spoke to Totorica about Crain’s condition. The teen was now having contractions. “Dr. Totorica states to not move patient,” she wrote after talking with him. “Dr. Totorica states there is a slight chance patient may need to go to ICU and he wants the bedside ultrasound to be done stat for sure before admitting to room.”

Though he had already performed an ultrasound, he was asking for a second.

The first hadn’t preserved an image of Crain’s womb in the medical record. “Bedside ultrasounds aren’t always set up to save images permanently,” said Abbott, the Boston OB-GYN.

The state’s laws banning abortion require that doctors record the absence of a fetal heartbeat before intervening with a procedure that could end a pregnancy. Exceptions for medical emergencies demand physicians document their reasoning. “Pretty consistently, people say, ‘Until we can be absolutely certain this isn’t a normal pregnancy, we can’t do anything, because it could be alleged that we were doing an abortion,’” said Dr. Tony Ogburn, an OB-GYN in San Antonio.

At 10:40 a.m, Crain’s blood pressure was dropping. Minutes later, Totorica was paging for an emergency team over the loudspeakers.

Around 11 a.m., two hours after Crain had arrived at the hospital, a second ultrasound was performed. A nurse noted: “Bedside ultrasound at this time to confirm fetal demise per Dr. Totorica’s orders.”

When doctors wheeled Crain into the ICU at 11:20 a.m., Fails stayed by her side, rubbing her head, as her daughter dipped in and out of consciousness. Crain couldn’t sign consent forms for her care because of “extreme pain,” according to the records, so Fails signed a release for “unplanned dilation and curettage” or “unplanned cesarean section.”

But the doctors quickly decided it was now too risky to operate, according to records. They suspected that she had developed a dangerous complication of sepsis known as disseminated intravascular coagulation; she was bleeding internally.

Frantic and crying, Fails locked eyes with her daughter. “You’re strong, Nevaeh,” she said. “God made us strong.”

Crain sat up in the cot. Old, black blood gushed from her nostrils and mouth.

“The Law Is on Our Side”

Crain is one of at least two pregnant Texas women who died after doctors delayed treating miscarriages, ProPublica found.

Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton has successfully made his state the only one in the country that isn’t required to follow the Biden administration’s efforts to ensure that emergency departments don’t turn away patients like Crain.

After the U.S. Supreme Court overturned the constitutional right to abortion, the administration issued guidance on how states with bans should follow the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act. The federal law requires hospitals that receive funding through Medicare — which is virtually all of them — to stabilize or transfer anyone who arrives in their emergency rooms. That goes for pregnant patients, the guidance argues, even if that means violating state law and providing an abortion.

Paxton responded by filing a lawsuit in 2022, saying the federal guidance “forces hospitals and doctors to commit crimes,” and was an “attempt to use federal law to transform every emergency room in the country into a walk-in abortion clinic.”

Part of the battle has centered on who is eligible for abortion. The federal EMTALA guidelines apply when the health of the pregnant patient is in “serious jeopardy.” That’s a wider range of circumstances than the Texas abortion restriction, which only makes exceptions for a “risk of death” or “a serious risk of substantial impairment of a major bodily function.”

The lawsuit worked its way through three layers of federal courts, and each time it was met by judges nominated by former President Donald Trump, whose court appointments were pivotal to overturning Roe v. Wade.

After U.S. District Judge James Wesley Hendrix, a Trump appointee, quickly sided with Texas, Paxton celebrated the triumph over “left-wing bureaucrats in Washington.”

“The decision last night proves what we knew all along,” Paxton added. “The law is on our side.”

This year, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit upheld the order in a ruling authored by Kurt D. Engelhardt, another judge nominated by Trump.

The Biden administration appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, urging the justices to make it clear that some emergency abortions are allowed.

Even amid news of preventable deaths related to abortion bans, the Supreme Court declined to do so last month.

Paxton called this “a major victory” for the state’s abortion ban.

He has also made clear that he will bring charges against physicians for performing abortions if he decides that the cases don’t fall within Texas’ narrow medical exceptions.

Last year, he sent a letter threatening to prosecute a doctor who had received court approval to provide an emergency abortion for a Dallas woman. He insisted that the doctor and her patient had not proven how, precisely, the patient’s condition threatened her life.

Many doctors say this kind of message has encouraged doctors to “punt” patients instead of treating them.

Since the abortion bans went into effect, an OB-GYN at a major hospital in San Antonio has seen an uptick in pregnant patients being sent to them from across Southern Texas, as they suffer from complications that could easily be treated close to home.

The well-resourced hospital is perceived to have more institutional support to provide abortions and miscarriage management, the doctor said. Other providers “are transferring those patients to our centers because, frankly, they don’t want to deal with them.”

After Crain died, Fails couldn’t stop thinking about how Christus Southeast Hospital had ignored her daughter’s condition. “She was bleeding,” she said. “Why didn’t they do anything to help it along instead of wait for another ultrasound to confirm the baby is dead?”

It was the medical examiner, not the doctors at the hospital, who removed Lillian from Crain’s womb. His autopsy didn’t resolve Fails’ lingering questions about what the hospitals missed and why. He called the death “natural” and attributed it to “complications of pregnancy.” He did note, however, that Crain was “repeatedly seeking medical care for a progressive illness” just before she died.

Last November, Fails reached out to medical malpractice lawyers to see about getting justice through the courts. A different legal barrier now stood in her way.

If Crain had experienced these same delays as an inpatient, Fails would have needed to establish that the hospital violated medical standards. That, she believed, she could do. But because the delays and discharges occurred in an area of the hospital classified as an emergency room, lawyers said that Texas law set a much higher burden of proof: “willful and wanton negligence.”

No lawyer has agreed to take the case."

[ohithankyou]

so i’ve been thinking about the firehouse scene where the 118 tell buck not to reach out to tommy and keep him from messaging back. and while, yes, i agree it would’ve been nice to see one of them support him, i don’t think the intention of the scene was to suggest they don’t want buck getting back together with tommy.

i saw that scene as friends simply keeping their friend from messaging an ex. i also interpreted it similar to the scene when buck is worried he might’ve purposely wanted to hurt gerard, and is expressing that concern to the 118, but they’re celebrating the fact that gerard is gone. that scene wasn’t meant to show malicious intention on the part of the 118 against buck. it wasn’t meant to suggest buck would become angry with them. it wasn’t meant to suggest the didn’t care about his feelings—simply, they were just happy to have gerard gone.

similarly, the scene at firehouse, in my opinion, isn’t meant to show ill-intention on the part of the 118 keeping buck from messaging tommy, or suggesting they don’t like tommy, but simply them doing the stereotypical thing your friends do when you go through a breakup: keep you from engaging with your ex.

and i think, if the show goes there/wants to bring buck and tommy back together, it would be a very nice moment if buck, despite what everyone else is saying, chooses to fight for tommy because he wants to. because he knows it’s what he needs to do. what he should do.

[luvzshy]

i love the a different kind of love fic! i was wondering if you could do something similar with their daughter coming home really upset because a kid was being mean to her at school about having two moms and billie and reader comforting her? something angsty/fluffy! thank you 🫶🏻

Home is Where We Heal

Word Count: 562

Warnings: Mild bullying, emotional distress, and mention of homophobia.

Summary: When their daughter comes home upset after being bullied at school for having two moms, Billie and her partner comfort her, reminding her of her worth and that love is always stronger than ignorance. The story balances angsty moments with heartwarming reassurance, showing the family’s unconditional love.

a/n: I’m so glad you loved A Different Kind of Love!! ❤️

The front door slammed shut with a force that made the house feel smaller. Billie and you, who were cooking in the kitchen, shared a glance. A moment later, your daughter’s voice rang out from the hallway—choked, angry, and on the verge of tears.

“I hate it here.”

Billie wiped her hands on a dish towel before quickly walking toward the source of the voice. You followed closely behind. There, standing at the edge of the living room, was your daughter, a middle schooler now, her backpack discarded at the door. Her face was flushed, not with the usual excitement of returning home, but with a frustration that cut through the air. Her eyes were red, but she hadn’t let the tears fall yet.

“Hey, baby, what happened?” Billie asked, kneeling to her level.

Your daughter crossed her arms tightly. “Nothing,” she muttered, looking away, as if she could hide behind the words. “I’m fine.”

You sighed softly, exchanging a glance with Billie. Both of you knew that tone well. It was the kind of ‘I’m-fine-but-really-I’m-not’ voice that came when something was too big to explain.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” you said gently, walking up to your daughter and resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re upset, we can tell.”

Billie’s voice was quieter, more soothing now. “We’re not going anywhere. Just talk to us, okay?”

A few seconds passed before your daughter’s lip quivered, and the dam broke. She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “Some kid at school… they called me a freak. They said I’m weird because I have two moms, and… and that I’ll never be normal.” Her voice cracked as she stumbled over the words. “I don’t want to be different anymore. Why can’t we just be like everyone else?”

Billie’s heart broke in her chest. Without thinking, she pulled your daughter into her arms, holding her tightly. You stepped in behind her, wrapping both of them in a comforting embrace.

“Hey, hey,” Billie murmured softly into your daughter’s hair. “That kid is just ignorant. You’re perfect just the way you are, you know that, right?”

Your daughter shook her head. “It’s so hard, Mom… sometimes I just wanna be like the other kids. No one at school gets it.”

You gently cupped her face in your hands, wiping away the few stray tears that had escaped. “Sweetheart, we’re different, and that’s okay. You’re special. And as for that kid—well, they’re not important. People say mean things when they don’t understand. You have us, and we’re gonna always have your back, no matter what. And Billie’s right—you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Billie let out a small sigh, squeezing your daughter a little tighter. “We’ve all had people say things about us that weren’t true, baby. But those things—they don’t define you. You’re our daughter, and you’re amazing, just the way you are. I promise you, there’s no one like you. And that’s something to be proud of.”

Your daughter nodded slowly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. The weight on her shoulders seemed a little lighter now. “I just don’t want to be alone, you know? What if people don’t want to be my friend because of who I am?”

Billie smiled softly, her hand gently stroking your daughter’s hair. “You’ll find your people, baby. And if anyone ever tries to make you feel small again, you know who you have to remind you how big you really are.” She pulled back just enough to look into her daughter’s eyes. “We love you more than anything. And nothing, no matter what anyone says, will change that.”

You stepped forward, giving Billie a soft look before turning your attention back to your daughter. “So, what do you say? Want to sit down and watch a movie? Or we can talk more, whatever you need.”

Your daughter hesitated for a moment, glancing up at both of you. “I think… I think I could use a hug right now.”

Without missing a beat, you both pulled her in again, enveloping her in a world where she was safe and loved. For now, that was all that mattered.

[emptymanuscript]

I think one of the most useful class lessons I ever had as a kid was a math lecture that I absolutely loathed because I could NOT get it.

It boiled down to learning about partial definitions and sets.

All squares fit the definition of rectangles but not all rectangles fit the definition of squares. All rectangles fit the definition of parallelograms but not all parallelograms fit the definition of rectangles. Same for squares and parallelograms. And so on.

This is one step above that.

Not all Zionists are Jews but some are. Not all Jews are Zionists but some are. There’s a large overlap but they’re not equal.

It’s a nice little venn diagram.

The problem is that most people, most of the time, like simple answers. They’re like me when I was a kid, mulelishly staring at the geometric figures on that chalkboard, with my arms crossed, just repeating, “No,” until the teacher just moved on without me.

How can something both be equal and not equal?

That’s dumb.

But, of course, reality doesn’t care about what you don’t like. It is what it is.

Sure, you may not hate us Jews, after all, just the ones who happen to also be zionists. Maybe if my brother (zionist Jew) and I (anti-zionist Jew) walked past you in broad daylight on a peaceful day when everything in your world is going great, you would stop to check and only be angry at my brother and have a heated but civil discussion with him and maybe even try to get my help with your arguments since I know him better than you. Thus proving it’s about zionism and not Judaism.

But you, on that peaceful picturesquely perfect day, are the square. Not all anti-zionists are going to be in that situation. Most of them are back at parallelograms.

It is not a peaceful picturesquely perfect day, they are not busy trying to make sure their fear and pain goes in exactly the right place for exactly the right reasons. They’re me at the chalkboard, just shouting, “no.”

They may also not be anti-semitic on a peaceful picturesquely perfect day but that’s not where they are. They’re not thinking or feeling or being their best selves. Fear and pain tend to make people their worst selves. We just lash out with no No NO!!! We not only paint others in broad strokes, we paint them in the worst light.

Jews = zionists = bad people = THE problem

Because deep down, unless you stop, take a breath, and be careful, that’s what everyone has been taught. And how nearly all the news and think-pieces are still phrased. It’s what comes to mind first. If I tell you to picture a four sided geometric figure, you’ll probably picture a square. This has nothing to do with intrinsic reality or you being bad. It’s simply where the most illustrations in your past have gone. So it comes to mind first.

The way to overcome that is to pause, take a breath, reconsider. Is square the only answer? The most likely? The right one, even if it is all those things.

That takes energy. Work. Exactly what you have the least of when you’re afraid and in pain and just want to lash out so it will all stop.

They can mean anyone they want.

That’s not the problem.

The problem is that one push comes to shove on a dark and stormy night when you feel the pulse of the mob because you are just as angry, just as hurt, as the rest of them, you aren’t going to be able to stop and ask the person next to you, “Hey, are WE the baddies?” It’s too late for that. You’re in it already and already had your worst self unleashed. It’s too late at that point.

The time to ask that question and deal with it is when you do mean zionists and think about what the possible solutions are. There’s where to pause and ask, hey, when I am my worst self, because that happens, how am I going to act on this. Maybe I am sending / endorsing the message that will do bad things when my worst self or people who are worse than me when they get it.

You have to ask, “Am I contributing to the problem,” when you misspeak. When you have time and energy. That you meant zionist but said Jew may be just a cigar but it could even more easily mean something else entirely. Something you need to work through before your worst self acts on it.

You might consciously mean zionist AND your unconscious might really mean Jew. The dark of night of your soul isn’t the time you want to find that out. Because your subconscious is exactly who is going to be flying the plane in the moment unless you already checked it. Even then, it’s probably going to be the pilot unless you have already changed course to avoid the situation.

"You don't understand, they mean Zionists, not Jews!"

They're literally saying Jews though.