#not sure if that’s too muscle car for him tho

[wildemaven]

I think I’m going to order it!

It’s on sale on Amazon right now!

I NEEEEEEEED 😍

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch3. domestic encounters

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 10)

ᰔ word count. 14.1k (i like this number)

a/n. hello hellooo my ihm bb's :'') so good to see you all again. so this is actually the first half of an original 26k word chapter 3 that i had written lmfaooo i genuinely entertained the idea of posting a 26k word chapter but like gat damn. idk i thought it would be too much. so there is this first part which is 14k and then the next chapter will be 12k! anywho, this chapter was fun to write, there's still a lot of set-up tho hahah. ihm has been really fun to write for me cuz it's kinda chaotic but chill at the same time lol :0 i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

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

“Soooo…..ready to consummate the marriage?”

You turn fast on your heel, so fast that Gojo almost trips over his own Welcome mat at his doorstep in an attempt to not accidentally topple over you, which you’re sure by the sheer size he has on you would’ve killed you or at the very least paralyzed you from the neck down, so it’s a good thing his hands fly out of his pockets then brace himself on the wood paneling above the door. 

“Wha–” you stutter, “what?!”

He stands up straight before leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, the sleeve fabric of his suit stretching across thick muscle but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking. “The marriage technically isn’t valid unless we consummate it.”

You roll your eyes and dig your finger into your heel to take it off and then do the same with your other, relishing in the freedom of your feet from the shackles of constrictive feminine clothing articles, although you’re a solid two and a half inches shorter again. “I would rather make love to one of those inflatable balloon salesmen at car dealerships that flail and flap around in the wind than let you touch me for the purpose of sex.”

“Fuck that’s harsh,” he laughs, like he’s genuinely impressed by the comeback this time, “so a dead bedroom then, huh?”

“Can’t be dead if it was never alive in the first place,” you mumble as you tread into his house and toss the documents envelope you had been holding onto the coffee table. You hear Gojo make his way across the hardwood floor behind you paired with the metal clanking of keys as he throws them into the paper mache bowl on the foyer table. 

“By the way,” you hear him say, and you turn your torso slightly to side eye him only to see that he’s casually taking his suit jacket off with a flip of it backwards, “who was that guy in the courtroom that was glaring daggers into my soul?”

Your eyes widen briefly. And then you sigh. “My ex.”

He pulls the jacket off behind him by the sleeves and tosses it onto the loveseat. “Huhhh. You used to date a cop? You don’t seem like the type.”

“What?” you say as you face him fully. He’s loosening his tie now with a tug. “Why not?”

“You’re kinda…delinquent. Figured a cop would like a more ‘docile’ woman,” he says.

“You sound creepy as fuck,” you say, grimacing a little as you narrow your eyes at him.

He sighs before tossing his tie off to the side as well. “I don’t agree with it. I’m just getting into their headspace. Everyone knows how cops are. Y’know, controlling.”

“Choso is different,” you immediately spat back at him, before your head can even run the words through a filter, and you realize it came off as defensive. Your cheeks warm, because now it looks like you’re not over your ex. And you want to be. Why were you still protecting Choso’s dignity?

Gojo blinks at you, a little surprised before he swallows slowly and he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Alright. I believe you.”

You turn away from him and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling awkward before you scratch your elbow and then turn back to face him again. “Well. If you run into him around town,” you say, “can you try to make him feel emasculated and jealous? He did me dirty.”

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “Uhhh. How?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, “brag about how great our sex life is or something.”

“But we have a sexless marriage.”

“Oh, yes, speaking of this sexless marriage,” you start, jutting your hip out to the side as you cross your arms sternly, “there are some ground rules that need to be set between you and I.” You point between the two of you.

“Ground rules?” he mimics after you as he undoes the top couple buttons of his white dress shirt, “like what?”

You hold a finger up. “Like no touching.” You hold another finger up. “Obviously, no sex.” You hold another finger up. “No sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.” You hold another finger up. “No peeping in on me while I’m showering.” You hold another finger up. “No ogling me around the hou–”

“These rules sound incredibly one-sided,” he snorts. 

“Yeah, well, don’t break them, you creep.”

“And if I catch you ogling me around the house?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Such a thing will not happen.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he sarcastically affirms, and he approaches you which makes you flinch a little but you realize he’s just walking past you towards the living room.

“Y–” you stutter, “you heard me, right? Once I start living here, you have to adhere to these rules.”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with his back facing you. “Yes ma’am.”

Your eye twitches slightly, and you storm towards him only to watch him slump down onto his couch, knees spread wide as he leans forward with a small grunt to grab the remote off the coffee table before settling back again. He lays an arm up and stretched across the backrest of the couch before he turns the TV on and scrolls through news channels. 

You make your way in front of him, obstructing the view of the TV, and he leans off to the side to try to catch a glimpse at the screen but you reposition your body so that he still can’t see it. His eyes slowly move to you and he has an irritated look on his face. 

“I’m tryna watch CNN,” he says. 

“Punishment,” you say, “for breaking any of these rules will be severe.”

He raises an eyebrow, interested all of a sudden as he tosses the remote back onto the coffee table and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Oh? What’s the punishment?”

Honestly, you don’t know. You just want to threaten him to keep him in line. Forget the fact that he’s the one doing you the favor here with this marital arrangement, and yet you’re threatening him. But it has to be done. “You don’t want to find out,” you say, trying to sound as eerie as possible.

“Not knowing what it is makes me want to find out,” he tells you, his knee swaying side to side like a dog wagging its tail. 

You briefly glance down, and for fucks sake why is all of his clothing so perfectly fit and stretched taut whenever he does anything? You try not to eye the shape of his thighs as the black fabric stretches while he’s seated.

You clench your fists at your side, worry your bottom lip under your front teeth, furrow your brow and blink rapidly from not being able to come up with something to say, and Gojo seems to read this as worry before he laughs a little.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna break any of your silly rules, despite how tempting it might sound to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” you mutter as you walk around the couch towards the kitchen, feeling thirsty all of a sudden. 

“Seriously. I won’t. You’re not my type,” he says from behind you on the couch, with a tone that tells you he’s trying to sound reassuring but it really just pisses you off even more, “I don’t really go after women with daddy issues.”

“Wha–” you gasp, offended, and you spin on your heel to glare at the back of his head. “Who the fuck said I have daddy issues?!?!”

“No one has to say it, I can feel it,” he says as he continues to clicks through channels.

You pick an avocado up out of the pile of fruits from the bowl at the center of the island, holding it over your shoulder to charge up as much kinetic energy as possible so you can chuck it at him hard enough to knock him unconscious, and it’s like he senses the malice radiating off of your body because he looks over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asks.

“A grenade,” you say, “that I’m gonna launch at you.”

“Oh, thank god,” he exhales in relief, “I almost thought it was an avocado for a second.”

You deadpan stare at him. “I don't find you funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” he says mindlessly, like he’s just arguing with you for the sake of arguing.

“No. I have never once laughed at a single thing you’ve ever said. Only grimaced with disgust,” you say.

He sighs. “Look at us. We’ve barely been married for an hour and we’re already fighting.”

You abandon your empty glass on the counter, shuffling around the corner towards the front entrance of the house because you can feel the headache from your pure annoyance starting to creep up on you. You sense Gojo’s eyes on you from the couch as you shove your feet back into the uncomfortableness of your heels. 

“Where are you going?” he asks. 

“Back to my house,” you grumble, wobbling a little when you take a step towards the door and place your hand on the handle.

“When are you gonna move in?” he asks suddenly.

You freeze in your tracks at his question. You’ve never heard the question before, because you’ve never had the chance to live anywhere that wasn’t your childhood home next door. So the question is jarring at best, and threatens to make you cry a little at worst. 

“Once I get my mom into hospice,” you say, quiet enough to where it’s possible he might not have even been able to hear it over the sound of presidential election updates. And then you make your way out of his house. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a beautiful sunny spring morning, clouds trailing by across the sky offering momentary relief from the heat reaching the pavement, and you’ve got a good marching band walk going on as you stroll down the sidewalk of your neighborhood for your morning walk. Well, that phrase implies that you go on morning walks often. You really don’t, you very rarely have the time or energy. But today you decided it was time to turn your life around (your running shoes will see you same time next month). 

You hear some commotion off at the right side of the street, and when you lift your head up a little to clear the obstructed view of your sun visor, you see a couple of cops standing on a lawn, chatting up your elderly women neighbors with their laughter bolstering in the air. One of the cops turns around, making eye contact with you, and—  of fucking course, it’s Choso.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mutter under your breath and try to walk faster down the sidewalk in Korean ahjumma style. 

“Hey! y/n! Wait!” you hear him call out and he jogs across the street to catch up with you.

You continue to military march down pavement. “What do you want, Choso? Why are you stalking me?”

He runs up in front of you to stop you in your tracks. You frown at him and cross your arms across your chest. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “I got a call about a stray dog out here.”

“Oh. Wonderful. So glad to know our officers are keeping us safe from cute street dogs,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“The dog had rabies. It bit an old man. Had to put it down,” he deadpans.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, “well, then, leave? Your job here is done.”

“I just—” he starts, “I want to—” He sighs, looking flustered like he’s trying to gain some sort of courage. And you’re almost entirely certain he didn’t need to garner this much courage to face a rabid dog than he seems to be needing for you. “I, uh, I want to meet your husband.”

“W-What??” you exasperate.

“To say congrats,” he says, but through gritted teeth.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah fucking right. You just wanna abuse your po-po powers to arrest him then throw him into jail then kill him to leave me widowed so that I’ll get back together with you and make a fool out of myself all over again.”

“Your capacity for catastrophization never fails to amaze me,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your therapist said something similar to you last week, too. 

“Ahhh!! y/n!!” you hear a familiar feminine voice call from down the street, and both you and Choso turn your heads toward the source of the sound.

Amaya, your neighbor, who is roughly thirty-weeks pregnant at the moment and therefore waddling down the street to get to you, is waving her arms in the air as her husband as well as another one of your neighbors follows after her. She finally reaches you and takes your hands into hers. “I haven’t seen you in forever!! How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing well…just getting by,” you say awkwardly, as Choso’s cop partner also approaches this little group that’s forming here, along with the elderly neighbors that he had been talking to. 

“Doctors taking good care of her?” Amaya’s husband, Ren, asks you with a twisted expression on his face and arms tightly crossed over his chest like he was gonna beat the doctors up if they weren’t. 

“Yes…” you say, “although, I think I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser.” Oh. Fuck. You should’ve kept that to yourself. Big mouth.

You can feel Choso’s eyes on you as he watches this interaction between you and your neighbors. 

“Oh! That’s interesting,” Amaya says, and as her hands soothe over yours, she feels the bump of the ring on your left hand. She glances down. “H-Huh??? Is this a wedding ring?!”

Choso crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits in your periphery.

“Y…yeeeeesss…” you say awkwardly.

“You’ve finally married?” your elderly neighbors chirp out at the same time.

You shoot them a dirty look over the word finally. “Yes.” Please drop the subject, please drop the subject.

But Amaya has always been the gossipy nosy neighbor. “To who??”

Choso snaps his face to you, intently studying your body language. You take a deep breath.

“I-I didn’t tell you?? I married Satoru!!” you chirp, as if it was a normal thing.

“Ehhh?!” you hear multiple of your neighbors’ voices call out. 

“You married Satoru??? But you hate him!!” Amaya blurts out, her voice loud and echoing down the street of the neighborhood.

“I—” you stammer, ducking your head a little to hide behind your visor, “um, oh, y’know…those feelings just…snuck up on me!”

“Awwww good for youuu,” Amaya coos, and one of your elderly neighbors comes up to you with a cheeky smile to then rubs your arm approvingly, “he’s sooooo handsome, you’re so lucky!!”

Ren lets out a hmph over his wife’s flattery of another man, and you roll your eyes, wanting to put Gojo in his place even in the face of just your neighbors, but then you remember that a loving wife wouldn’t say something like his personality makes him an ugly rat. 

“But when did this happen?” Choso’s partner speaks up, his voice accusatory. Choso hits his partner’s chest vest with the back of his hand, as if to say cut it out.

You feel pissed off at that.

“Oh yeahhh, you and Choso only recently broke up!” Amaya says, pointing between the two of you.

You purse your lips together from the anxiety of this entire conversation. “Three weeks ago. Choso and I broke up three weeks ago,” you say, not even sure why you’re disclosing your personal matters to this group of congregated people, but the peer pressure was damning, and you’re pretty sure silence on this subject in front of your neighbors would only make Choso more suspicious, “and—” you had to get your story straight, “well…within those three weeks, Satoru and I just…got to know each other.”

“Eh?” Ren speaks up. “But he was out of town for two weeks. He only came back a week and a half ago.”

You blink at him.

“Ohhh yes, yes, that’s right, honey,” Amaya agrees with a slow nod in remembrance as she pats her husband's chest, “those chocolates he brought us were from London, right?”

Choso tilts his head at you, giving you a glare with the intent of having you crack under this pressure, because you’ve just been caught in a cold hard lie. More importantly, how the fuck did you not notice that Satoru had been gone for TWO WEEKS??? He was your next door neighbor. You’ve seriously been so damn out of it these days. Also, why the fuck didn’t he get you chocolates from London?!?!?! The fucking snake. 

“A marriage within three weeks is a little odd, no?” Choso’s partner speaks up, but with less of a casual conversation tone and more of a I sense something illegal going on here tone.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Choso sighs, taking a step to stand in front of you. “Let’s all get on with our days. She doesn’t have to share any information she doesn’t want to.”

You blink in surprise at Choso’s words, of which all your neighbors acknowledge albeit slightly reluctantly as they wave goodbye to you and start dispersing back to their homes. Choso’s partner gets some notice through his radio, and he pulls it from the velcro of his chest to speak into it before heading back to their cop car with a slight jog. Once everyone is gone and it’s just you and Choso again, he turns around to face you. His arms are still crossed at his chest while he wears a very skeptical and almost reprimanding look on his face.

“What are you up to, y/n?” he immediately asks you, and you feel goosebumps tickle your skin even in the heat. “I really hope it’s not something fishy. Or illegal.”

You swallow hard. You know the U.S. federal codes in the law for marital & insurance fraud like the back of your hand, since you read through them hundreds of times before deciding if your arrangement with Gojo would be worth it. 8 U.S.C. 1033 and 18 U.S.C. 371 provide for a penalty of up to ten years in prison for insurance fraud. And under that statute, you can also be fined up to $250,000. The best case scenario is that you just have to divorce Gojo, and forfeit your chances of ever recovering from your crippling debt. And while it’s hard to prove marital fraud, Choso had reason for a personal vendetta against you, and he has the resources to launch an investigation. 

“Why would I do something illegal??” you ask, as if to convince him that the possibility was absurd. 

He takes a step closer to you, and your breathing picks up. “People do illegal things all the time,” he says, “for the thrill, out of curiosity,” another step closer, “the most common reason that I’ve seen?” He’s so close to you now that you catch the familiar scent of his skin. “Desperation.”

You catch a small gasp of air from his imposition in your personal space, and finally, your weak legs manage to take you a step back. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about here,” you say with a shaky voice.

He raises an eyebrow at you. And then he sighs. “Stay out of trouble.”

Your eye twitches at him, annoyance resurging but you have to bite your tongue for self preservation. Gojo’s words about cops liking more docile women ring in your ears for a brief moment, and you have to physically shake your head to get his voice out of it. 

His partner yells for him from his car, something about a call they got for a robbery downtown, and Choso spares you a warning look before he turns on his heel and jogs back to the car. The sound of police sirens mimic the panic in your beating heart as you watch them speed off down the street and out of sight.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You pull into your neighborhood at the early hours of the morning, skin feeling dry and eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion as you yank your hospital badge clip off your scrub top to toss onto the passenger seat along with your stethoscope, releasing it from your neck like pulling a noose loose. 

Before your shift last night, you had to take your mom to the hospital because she was have shortness of breath, and her oxygen saturation was low on her pulse oximeter. She’s stable now, it was just yet another flare up of her COPD, but given her other risk factors, the hospitalist admitted her to monitor her overnight and through to the evening today if all goes well. Which meant that you could have the house to yourself for once. It might sound selfish to say, because shouldn’t the more dominant feeling be I hope my mom will be okay, but the reality was that there’s only so much of that worry you can have at a time. It doesn’t mean you’re not thinking of her literally every second of the day. It just means you’re human. 

The weirdest thing about working the night shift is seeing everyone else’s days start while yours is just ending. There’s a bit of satisfaction with it. Like imagining laughing at their faces ha ha! You have to go to work now at seven in the morning, meanwhile I get to sleep! as if working the night shift doesn’t lead to substantially higher rates of cardiovascular disease and other chronic illness, as well as an early death. So who really got the last laugh? Day shift workers. Literally.

It wasn’t something you did because you liked working the night shift. You do it because you get paid a 20% differential for it. And you need all the money you can get right now.

Your brain seems to be working more than usual if you’re able to think about all these things after a shift. Swiftly pulling into the driveway of your home, around the hull of Gojo’s obnoxious boat in the driveway, you get out of your car with your purse hanging from your shoulder and just before you shut the door, you see one of your elderly neighbors waving at you from across the street. You’re pretty sure her name is Margaret, but you’re awful with names. You do remember that she was in the posse of neighbors that were flocking you yesterday and asking you pushy questions about your marriage in the presence of Choso. And your body stiffens a little. 

She tilts her head at you as you stand in your driveway, and you awkwardly glance over at Gojo’s house.

“Oops!” you chirp from across the street, “always forget to pull into the Hubby’s driveway instead! Silly me!!”

You grab your emergency overnight stay bag from the back of your car and hurry over to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door incessantly and ringing the bell so as to not arouse any more suspicion from your neighbors about why two married people aren’t living together. “Forgot my keys!! Hahahhahaha,” you exclaim while your pounding on the door intensifies. You’re sure you're just being paranoid, because why would sweet old lady Margaret (Janice? Patricia?) snitch on you? But you’ve been paranoid all your life. It’s one of your fatal flaws. 

The door opens suddenly, right as you were about to pound harshly once again, and you stop the motion in time to not sock Gojo in the abdomen with your fist. He blinks down at you, his face a little puffy from sleep, his hair shooting out in all different directions, and he scratches at his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt, one he clearly threw on last minute before opening the door considering the fact that he put it on backwards. And inside-out. 

“Huh? y/n?” he mumbles, his voice deep and kind of raspy with sleep, “what are you doing here?”

“Just let me in,” you hiss at him, glancing over your shoulder to your elderly neighbor's lawn for a second, and then duck under his arm that was holding the door open to get inside the house.

You turn around to see him shrug his shoulders and slowly close the door, clearly too tired to deal with the bullshit this early in the AM, and he turns around to face you before leaning back onto the surface. His eyes close, like he’s trying to preserve the sleepy feeling for when he gets back into bed.

“Can I help you?” he says. His head falls back with a small thump to rest on the door.

“I’m going to sleep here for the night. Er, for the day,” you say. “I will move in starting today.”

“Okay,” he easily agrees.

You blink at him. “Um. Show me to my room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he heads for the stairs with the shuffle of his slippers across the hardwood floor. You note that he is very easily malleable and overall smooth brained when he’s sleepy. You try to ignore the fact that you find it kinda cute. 

You follow him up the stairs and he leads you across the loft into a hallway studded with a couple of doors. He opens one of them for you, his head drifting a little like he’s about to fall back asleep. “Here you go,” he says while gesturing inside the bedroom and rubbing his eye with a weakly closed fist, “guest bedroom. Uh, there’s another one near the master too that’s a bit bigger, but this one has a lock on the door. So that I don’t sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks,” you accept and head inside. You set your emergency overnight stay bag on the bed and then turn around to face the door to find Gojo still standing in the frame. He has his hands pushed into the pockets of his pajama pants as he squints at you. 

You feel…a little…nervous? Shy? Who the fuck were you to be shy in front of Gojo? You really don’t give a damn what he thinks about you, since a lion does not concern itself with the opinions of a sheep (you’ve been doing reruns of Game of Thrones this past week), but starting today, you’ll be in his territory, and this whole situation is so domestic that you feel vulnerable in front of him. Like the sheep somehow managed to splay the lion open this time, and now the real you is on display for him. You’re suddenly self conscious of the unruly state of your hair and the stains of IV fluid on your black scrubs and the fact that the allegedly flake-proof mascara you put on at the beginning of your shift has long since flaked all over your cheeks.

“Um. Can you leave?” you say in a small voice.

“Huh?” he responds, like he himself forgot that he was still standing there. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He lets out a very long exhale. “Make yourself at home.” And then, still facing you, he walks off to the side veeeeeeery slowly until he’s out of sight.

You walk up to the doorframe and peak your head around to the left to see him still standing there.

“Satoru. Stop treating me like I’m some animal at the zoo. Leave.” 

“It’s just so weird seeing you in my house like thi—”

You slam the door on him, your breathing finally slowing down again as your palms lay flat on painted white wood. You move your hand down to the handle, thumb and forefinger lingering on the lock as you look at it for a moment, but ultimately decide against locking it.

The room has a bathroom attached to it which is nice. The bed is a queen size, fitted with light blue and eggshell white sheets, tucked neatly spare for one corner of the bed where the duvet is flipped over. To the left of the bed is a nightstand and to the right is a dresser that looks very new. You take a glance at your reflection in the mirror sitting above it, and let out a small gasp at your less than flattering appearance. 

A five minute shower does you wonders, and you pat yourself dry with a towel that matches the shower curtain. You find one of your floor-length vintage nightgowns, with the long frilly sleeves, after rustling through your overnight stay bag, along with a toothbrush and some moisturizer. 

As you brush your teeth, you pace around the room. There’s a little staggered rack near the window that is lined with plants and the blinds are angled perfectly for sunlight to get through to them. You poke your finger to one of the plant’s soil and notice that it’s damp. Been watered recently. Gojo is a plant guy? He really doesn’t seem the type. Well, actually, he’s pretty vain about his avocado tree. But houseplants were a different story. A whole different trope of person.

After getting ready for bed, you slip into the sheets and lay stiff despite the comfortable mattress as you stare up at the ceiling with the duvet tucked under your arms. It’s bright in the room. Back home, you have blackout curtains, which help you sleep because it blocks out the morning light. Here, you don’t have that. You don’t have your melatonin either. But you do have the exhaustion in your veins, making you blink slowly and slowly until the water in your eyes feels as thick as oil. You’re so tired to the point that you can’t even sleep.

You force your eyes to close anyway. You’ll pretend you’re a queen in a palace, here in a foreign land she has recently conquered under her empire. A daydream that you find doesn’t really help you drift off to sleep. But counting sheep never fails you. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You awake in the afternoon with a headache that pounds at your head like the FBI is trying to infiltrate your own mind. And all you can hear now is the FBI OPEN UP!!! meme as you groan and rub at your temples with one hand while leaning over the bed to pet at the nightstand for your go-to bottle of Tylenol just to–

Pet around at nothing.

“Mm?” you mumble, opening your eyes cautiously before harsh light makes you close them again. But even behind the protection of your eyelids, you’re still very keen on the brightness that finds you in this room. Finally, you’re able to blink the sleepiness away and adjust to the light, and when the blur of your vision subsides, you realize that you’re in a bed that is most definitely not your own. And then you remember.

You spent your first night (well, technically morning and early afternoon), at Gojo’s house.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, balled up fist rubbing at your eyes ferociously as you sit groggy from the sleep that enveloped you so performatively after your shift last night. You can’t even remember coming to his house, which is concerning, since that could mean you forgot to do a lot of other things when coming home. Like changing your clothes, and scrubbing your make-up off. But it seems like habit and routine has saved you, since you glance down and see yourself in one of your nightgowns and your skin doesn’t feel dry.

A loud thud! noise from directly beneath you startles you, jolting some of the sleepiness out of you, and you finally feel inclined to head out the door.

You make it across the loft and to the top of the staircase so you can peer over the railing to the downstairs floor. But from the top, you can’t see anything except for the entry area and the family room, but you assume the sounds you hear are coming from the kitchen, because it sounds like the closing of a fridge and ceramic on marble paired with footsteps on hardwood. Lifting the hem of your nightgown up so you don’t trip over it, you creep down the stairs, diligent in avoiding the 2nd and 7th step (you’ve since learned that they creak a little), and make steady progress in getting to the bottom of the stairwell to then stealthily peak your head around the rail and peer into the kitchen. You only have a view of one side, the long counter strip with the stove and the fridge, but you freeze when you’re met with the sight of a man standing there shirtless pouring orange juice into a coffee mug.

You’re temporarily shocked, your fight of flight immediately kicking in as you clutch the imaginary pearls around your neck in fear…but then…you slowly…find yourself starting to stare. This man’s back is huge, massive really…with tense and defined muscles, expansive smooth lines with ridges that meet bone. His shoulders are broad, rounding down into strong arms that are split with veins. And your eyes trail the way his waist narrows down to his hips, of which gray sweatpants very loosely hang from. Honestly, if the door in the movie Titanic was as large as this man’s back, then maybe Rose AND Jack could have fit on it and survived. (a/n. basically picture this)

And in the middle of your drooling, you realize. That this man. Is. Gojo.

Which should be a relief to you, because if it wasn’t Gojo, and there was just some random man in the house, then you’d have to start looking for a weapon of sorts. But instead you just continue to watch him silently without coming out of your hiding. Shirtless in his own kitchen (a crime, really) as he pours OJ into a black mug (who the fuck drinks juice from a coffee mug). He suddenly turns around to face the island and a small gasp leaves your lips before you duck your head behind the rail to hide yourself from his line of sight, and when you realize you’re in the clear, you slowly peak your head back out.

The sight of his chest and torso nearly knocks you breathless, because why is his skin so smooth…and taut across the defined muscles of his abs, glistening with a sheen you can only guess is a salty layer of sweat. His fringe is damp, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, a droplet of sweat rolling down from his temple towards his chin but he uses his bare shoulder to wipe the sweat off before it can get that far. He brings the mug of OJ to his lips and tips it back with a swallow, the thick muscles of his neck rippling and rolling with the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a singular droplet of orange juice escaping from the corner of his lips, trailing down the vein on his neck and into the territory of his chest. Okay. You were being creepy as fuck right now. He can’t find out that you’re staring at him like this, you’d literally move to a different country if he ever caught you. And yet, for some reason, you just can’t stop either. 

He pulls the mug from his mouth, letting out a large exhale since he literally just gulped it all down in one go. He places his palms flat on the table, slightly distant from one another, as he takes in the sight of his counter, while you take in the sight of the way his biceps bulge and the veins on his thick forearms tense. He looks like he’s contemplating something. And then he shrugs his shoulders slightly before grabbing the carton next to him and chugging straight from it, like whatever he poured himself wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for citrus juice he seems to have after–you can only assume–the workout he just had. 

There’s a deep noise that’s muffled in his throat in the second before he pulls the carton away from his mouth and his eyes glance at something on the floor. You can’t see what it is, but you can see the marvelous shape of his ass through his sweatpants– I mean, you can see him furrow his brow a little and then he’s suddenly crouched down on the floor, ducked behind the island and out of sight, before he mutters something that you think sounds like damn fridge…

You stand on your tiptoes on the last step, trying to peer over the obstructing view of the counter, but you trip over the hem of your nightgown, losing balance and–

–fall straight onto the hardwood in front of you, on all fours. 

“Ah,” you exclaim blandly, and in your periphery, see Gojo suddenly stand up straight from his crouched position.

“y/n?” he calls out from the kitchen, his tone surprised.

“Sorry!” you chirp as you feel embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks, “just, uh, fell down the stairs!”

“What?!?” he exclaims in a panic, and you forgot that most people would panic if someone said that to them. He rushes over to you and gets down on one of his knees to peer at your face, his hand shooting out to grab your upper arm with little delicacy out of concern, and his eyes roam all across you to assess for injuries. “Are you okay??”

“Just!” you chirp as you yank your arm out of his hold, “Peachy!” You’re not able to make eye contact with him as he remains kneeled next to you, but you can’t find yourself able to move either. So you just relish in the ridiculous feeling of being on all fours in your vintage grandma nightgown in front of your shirtless and, breaking news: very hot, fake husband. God you can smell the musk and sweat from him when he’s this close, and it’s sexy. You have to be careful to not just straight up mount him on the floor right now. Much to your aroused dismay. 

“Um,” you squeak out, “can you put a shirt on.”

“Huh?” he looks down at himself, like he forgot he’s half naked. “Oh. Yeah.” He stands up. “Sorry, I’m not really used to having someone in the house anymore,” he says, and his use of the word anymore isn’t lost on you. 

He heads over to the coat closet, pulling a gray sweatshirt that’s a shade darker than his sweatpants off of a coat hanger and then pulling it on over his head. He pulls the hood off, and now his hair looks damp with sweat and sexily ruffled up. And he’s also in a comfy-looking sweatshirt. That was way hotter than being shirtless, for fucks sake. You wonder if he’d reconsider being shirtless again. He’s kneeling down beside you once more, and yes you are still on all fours just staring down at the hardwood floor like an animal paralyzed with fear. 

“Have some decency, please. Especially since I am to start living here from today onwards. I would appreciate modesty around the house,” you say as a tactic of self preservation. “Take note of my attire–appropriately covering all skin.”

“Are you gonna stand up?” he asks you.

“No. I shan't.”

“What? Why not? And why are you talking like that?” 

“It appears I am frozen.”

“Are your knees okay?”

“I believe so.”

He sighs and gets up from his knelt position, then suddenly comes up behind you, bending over to wrap his arms around your waist tightly before picking you up with the same ease in which someone would pick up a plastic lawn chair. You gasp, still retaining your four-legged creature formation, until he shakes it out of you and then sets you back down onto your feet. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says with a sigh as he heads back towards the kitchen, and he’s back to crouching down somewhere behind the counter.

You shuffle your feet over to the kitchen and peer over the kitchen island to see that he’s examining the floor in front of the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He scratches at his eyebrow. “The fridge is leaking again.”

“Oh.”

He clicks something on both sides of the fridge's feet and then grips the corners of its body, pulling it out from the wall with a small grunt leaving his lips. Even with the baggy sweatshirt, you can see the curves of the muscles in his arms as he works. 

You place your elbows on the island and hold your face in your hands as you watch him. “How are you gonna fix it?”

He’s dabbing at the wet hardwood with a very worn out rag to get it dry. “I just have to shut the water valve off for a bit.”

“How do you do that?”

He points over his shoulder with his thumb, and you trace the line of it to the cabinet under the sink. 

“Really? You’re gonna get under the sink?”

He dusts his hands off and tosses the rug off to the side. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“How long has this been an issue?”

His gaze flicks to yours briefly before he stands up. “About a week.”

“Don’t you think you should just call someone?”

“What?” He turns to face you and crosses his arms across his chest while raising an eyebrow at you, like you’ve just deeply offended him. “Why the fuck would I call someone for a job I could do myself?”

You tilt your head at him, trying to hide the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “Well you said it’s been a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’ve–...I’ve just been busy. So I haven’t had a chance to really take a look at it.”

“Ohhhh okay okay,” you say in a teasingly skeptic tone, poking your tongue to your cheek as it’s getting progressively harder to hide your grin.

“What?” he says to you, impatiently.

“Nothinggg,” you purr, and you watch him with a cheeky look on your face as he glares at you before he disappears off towards the garage.

He comes back with a tool box and you spend some time poking around in it curiously as he grabs a couple of tools before crouching down in front of the sink.

For some reason, you feel shy watching him. Maybe it’s because when he’s laying on his back, the top twenty-percent of him ducked underneath the sink, and he’s working his hands on some pipes that you can’t see, his sweatshirt rides up a little and you can see the very lower part of his torso. And then when he yanks particularly hard on something, it rides up more and you can see his abs tensing and relaxing with almost every breath he takes and every move he makes. You’re just grateful he can’t see you, and the urge to clench your thighs together is almost stronger than your brain’s disposition to convince yourself that he’s not attractive just because you think he’s annoying most of the time. 

“y/n,” he calls out to you from under the sink, and you jump a little. He tilts his head a little so he can make eye contact with you from under. “Can you hand me those slip-joint pliers?”

“I have no idea what that is or where to even begin to know what that is.”

“The pliers that have the serrated edges,” he tries.

“Huh?”

“.........shark with sharp teeth.” 

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course,” you grab them and then shuffle over to him before crouching down, balancing on your toes, “here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says in a flat tone, slowly taking them from you. 

“You’re welcome!” you chirp. You feel very useful. 

His head disappears back to deep underneath the sink again to work on stuff again. Even though this whole thing is probably just his masculine ego wanting to fix things around the house by himself rather than just call a person that is literally paid to fix these sorts of things, you have to admit that you’re not complaining for getting to watch him do something handy. 

“I’ve just– gotta–” he grunts a little and you hear the creaking of pipes, “tighten this up a bit–” he lets out another gruff noise, his voice strained with effort, and you’re ashamed to say it sounds hot. “Alright!” He pulls himself out from under the sink and stands up back onto his feet with a bounce in his step as he dusts his hands off. “Fixed. For now.”

The fridge starts making a strange whirring noise. You raise an eyebrow at him. He quickly reaches behind it and clicks some button before the eerie whirring stops.

“Okay. Now it’s fixed.”

You give him a very skeptic look. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t sure jan me. Trust. It won’t leak anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond before heading back up the stairs to freshen up. 

By the time you go back downstairs, Gojo is nowhere to be found, and you take the opportunity to sit on his couch in the living room to then peruse which streaming services he has on his TV. It isn’t until about ten minutes later that you hear someone coming down the stairs, because he makes no effort to avoid the creaky steps.

You put your elbow up on the couch backrest and twist your torso to look at him. He’s wearing pajama pants and an unmatching black short sleeve cotton T-shirt that’s loose around his torso but tight at the arms. He’s ruffling his hair up with a hand towel, attempting to get it dry from the shower he clearly just took. As he makes his way towards the living room, you catch a waft of the clean soapy aqua fragrance of shampoo lingering in his hair. He stops about four feet behind the couch.

You glance down at his feet. “Why the fuck are you, as a grown ass man, wearing bunny slippers inside the house?”

He opens one eye to glance down at his slippers as he continues to tousle his hair dry, “oh, Juno got them for me for Christmas last year. She wanted me to wear them ‘all the time or else uncle toru’s feet will burn off from the floor lava.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

Juno is Gojo’s five-year-old niece, and from the interactions you’ve seen between them, and from the way My Little Pony was the first thing that popped up when you turned the TV on, you know that Gojo absolutely adores her and vice versa. You’ve met her a couple times, even babysat her once in an emergency, and she’s a cute and bright little kid that you certainly have way more fondness for than her obnoxiously annoying uncle who is also now your fake husband. Wait, does that mean that Juno is your niece now, too?

Gojo lets out a sigh before hanging the towel over his shoulder, his hair apparently adequately dry enough for him now. He looks younger when his hair is messy and a little damp, falling over his forehead flatter than usual. It’s kinda boyish and dare-you-say charming.

He looks down at his slippers again with a pleasant reminiscent look on his face before placing his hands on his hips like he’s a baseball dad of three. “Y’know, when I was growing up–”

“Ah yes. During the Great Depression.”

He gives you an annoyed look. “Quit it. When I was a kid–”

“Back in the 1800s.”

“Aren’t you pushing thirty?” he asks you.

“Aren’t you in need of some new dentures?” you ask him.

“Fuckin’ rude,” he mumbles as he walks towards the foyer table to rip open some of the mail that was scattered across it.

“What happened when you were a kid?” you ask.

“Forget it,” he says, tucking some of his bills back into envelopes.

“What!! I wanna know,” you say.

“Yeah well I don’t want to tell you anymore,” he responds.

As you two fully grown adults continue bickering like toddlers for the better part of two minutes, your phone is ringing upstairs unbeknownst to you. 

“Wait. Shut up,” Gojo cuts off your next insult as he snaps his head up-right suddenly. 

“What?! Did you just tell me to shut u–”

“Shhhhhh,” he hushes you, turning his ear towards the stairs with a concentrated expression on his face.

You silence yourself, and then you hear the ringing coming from upstairs.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you scramble off the couch and jog to the bottom of the staircase, Gojo’s eyes on you the entire time as you run up the steps back to your room.

You hear your phone ringing on the bed somewhere but you can’t find it so you rummage through the sheets before finally spotting it, swiping on the call and bringing it to your ear without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” you say.

“Oh! y/n, hi there. It’s Dr. Johnson calling. I was prepared to leave you a voicemail,” he says.

“I’m here,” you say hastily, holding your phone to your ear with both hands as you feel your entire body tense up. 

You never knew what to expect with any sort of phone calls these days, especially when you’re at work or when your mom isn’t home, because a phone call could be something as simple as approving a refill on some of her medication, to something much worse than that. Something much more final than that. 

“It’s not an emergency,” Dr. Johnson says on the other line, like he can sense your fear and anxiety through the phone, “just wanted to reach out to let you know that I spoke with the hospitalist who admitted your mother to the hospital and she’s doing better now. They’ll likely discharge her by the end of the day.”

You slowly let out the breath you were holding. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I know she needs to come in for chemo tomorrow, so it’s perfect timing.”

“Yes, we’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Dr. Johnson, I do want to let you know…I’ll be admitting my mom for hospice in a couple of days,” you tell him. You wince a little, because you know it’s probably something that you should’ve discussed with him prior to all of this. “It’s…likely that you won’t have to continue her care anymore, since she’s been approved for Kaiser insurance, I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser physicians.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other line, the briefest moment of hesitation from a self-assured doctor who always had something to say right away. “Really? That’s–...wow. I can’t say I won’t be extremely sad to not see her anymore.”

“I know…” you say, worrying your bottom lip through your teeth, feeling a sudden wave of guilt overtake your senses, “you’ve been following her progress ever since her diagnosis, even got her into remission…it’s just a little complicated with some insurance stuff and some bills as well. If I could have things my way, I would continue care with you and your team.”

Even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s nodding on the other line. “I understand, y/n. I know that there’s more to healthcare in this country than just…receiving care. But I don’t have to explain those things to you, since you’re a nurse. Do what’s best for you and your family. Give me the details for the hospice, and I’ll have my MAs send over your mother’s chart.”

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “Really. For everything.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Oh–” you stutter, in fear he might hang up right as you remembered to ask him something.

“Yes?”

“I know I’ll see you tomorrow so we can discuss it then too, but I was just wondering if the scans were back from my mom’s brain MRI she had done? I know they usually take three weeks to come back but just wanted to check.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “I had a feeling you’d follow up about that. No, there are no scans that have come back. I’ll let you know right away when they do.”

“Okay…” you say.

“I know you’re worried about a possible glioma,” he speaks up, “but let’s just try to stay positive until we see the scans, okay?”

“Yes. Sounds good. Thank you, doctor.”

“Alright. I will see you and your mom tomorrow.”

“Yes. Bye,” you say and hear his word of farewell too before hanging up. 

You stare down at the screen of your phone, taking in slow deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You just wanted these scans to come back already so that you could feel at peace knowing that your mom’s worsening neurological condition is due to her Alzheimer’s and not a tumor in her brain. The average survival length of a person with a brain tumor is low, and even worse if it’s a glioblastoma, ranging at around 12-18 months. You can buy her a few years at least with the stage of cancer progression she’s at right now, even with the possibility of remission, but if it becomes severely advanced disease then–

You gasp softly and cover your mouth with your hand, unable to even fathom the thought without feeling a feverish chill run down your entire body. Now's not the time to spiral. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now is the time to stay positive. Just like Dr. Johnson said. 

Putting one step ahead of the other, you leave the room, cross the loft and slowly make your way down the stairs and stop at the very last step when you see Gojo rushing across the foyer with his dress shoes on, wearing a dark blue suit, save for the tie, and he looks like he’s pressed for time.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask from the last step, your hand curled around the rail still.

“Hey, uh, yeah,” he scrambles, grabbing his keys from the paper mache bowl on the foyer table and then pats at his pockets for his wallet only to notice it’s absent. “Fuck.” He disappears somewhere into the house in a hurry and then returns with his wallet in his hand before shoving it in his pocket with the jingle of his keys too. “I had to push a couple house viewings from this afternoon up, so I need to leave.” He finally turns to face you and exhales slowly to regain his breath. “Small favor?”

“What’s up,” you say.

He rubs the back of his neck a little guiltily. “Well, Sana called a few minutes ago asking if I could watch Juno since she had to pick her up early from school, and I said sure, but I have to leave now, so–”

“I can watch her,” you say.

He claps his hands together in prayer form and holds them up to his face, “I owe you one.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum, watching as he resumes his haste to leave the house. And just before he heads out the door, you say— “Collar.”

“Huh?” He turns around to face you. “Oh.” He takes a second to flatten the collar of his shirt. “Thanks.” And then he’s out the door.

You sigh, relishing in the emptiness of the house. Maybe you should raid his pantry, or play porn on the TV super loud so all the neighbors think he’s a creep. But perhaps that is not appropriate, given that his sister will be bringing his niece over very soon.

You quickly head over to your house to change into something more appropriate than your nightgown, just some blue jeans that honestly make you look like a soccer mom, and then a T-shirt. You walk back to Gojo’s house and only get about five minutes to peruse his pantry when the doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you’re met face-to-face with Gojo’s sister, Sana. How would you describe Sana? Well, first of all, she’s beautiful, with all the same features as Gojo except in female form. Striking round blue eyes, silky white hair that shimmers silver underneath sunlight (you would describe Gojo less poetically than this, though). Her hair is pin straight, falling down just past her shoulders. She’s sweet, or at least has been the couple of times that you’ve met her, but she can also be a little serious and strict. The type to not really laugh at the dinner table if you make a pointed joke about the current political state of the country, but maybe it’s because she didn’t even understand the joke to begin with. Either way, she’s very different from the annoying and irritating temperament of her older brother, and how their mother managed to give birth to such two different kids is beyond you.

“Hey,” you greet her at the door with a small smile.

“Hi, y/n,” she returns with a polite smile of her own. She’s holding onto Juno’s scrawny shoulders as the kid stands in front of her, barely to the height of her mother’s hips. Juno was toying with the light pink baseball cap on her head, her hair pulled through the opening in the back and tied up into a ponytail. “I’m so sorry to bother you with her.”

“Oh! No, not a bother at all, I love getting to see her,” you say as you crouch down to get at eye level with her. “Hi Juno!”

Juno has curly white hair rather than the pin straight that her mother possessed, a feature that more closely resembles her father’s hair, along with her hazel eyes. You’ve only met Sana’s husband, Jun, once before. From what you know, he’s some type of businessman, and the first thing you noticed about him was that he was the same height as Sana. But his wife was blessed with supermodel height and was probably taller than most men, so it wasn’t surprising. Jun was hearty, almost suspiciously kind, laughed boisterously loud, and in the small amount of time you met him, it was easy to see that Sana very rarely humored his ill-mannered and awkwardly-placed jokes, but they seemed very in love with each other regardless. Apparently he and Gojo go golfing every other weekend. Information that you seem to know despite any desire to know it. 

Juno hugs her water bottle to her chest, shy as she makes eye contact with you. “Hi, auntie y/n.”

“I loooooove your baseball cap! It’s so cute, where did you get it?” you ask her.

She blinks off to the side timidly, her fluffy white lashes fluttering over her bright eyes. “Um. Uncle Toru.”

“Ohhh I see, I see! It suits you.”

Sana nudges her a little with her knee. “What do we say, Juno?”

“Thank you, auntie y/n,” she immediately squeaks out in reflex.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the white bandage wrapped over her tiny arm and your brow furrows before reaching out to gently hold it. Juno winces a little from the sensation. You stand up straight.

“What happened to her arm?” you ask Sana.

Sana sighs as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “She fell on the playground at school today. It’s a pretty large scrape and it’s been hurting her a lot.”

“Did you disinfect it?”

“Oh…I just–...washed it with some water. The school nurse wasn’t there today so I just had to pick her up early.” 

“Mm, I see,” you say, “I can take a look at it. I have some neosporin in my purse.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, like she was secretly hoping you would make the offer. “Thank you. Really.” She gently pushes on her daughter’s shoulder. “C’mon Juno. Go inside and set your homework up on the table.”

Juno cranes her neck up to look at her mom. “Mommy, can I have a snack first? Pop-tart!”

“If your uncle has them in the pantry, then sure,” Sana says, and immediately upon hearing those words, Juno rushes inside the house with giggles filling the air. “But only one!!” Sana yells out to her in a strict tone, and you watch with amusement as Juno skips off before returning your attention back to Sana.

“Sooo…” she starts, a small hint of hesitation playing on her usually prim face, “I suppose we’re sisters now. Sisters-in-law.”

Your eyes widen and your shoulders stiffen. It was at least a good thing that Gojo told his family already that you two are married, because it seems that most of his extended family live here in this town. At least, you know that his sister’s family and his parents live here. Better to be heard from him directly than to run into you randomly living at his house all of a sudden when they drop by. You’re sure his family has questions about this extremely sudden marriage to say the least. You’re not sure how much they’ll try to pry, but you hope it’s not much, because you’ve never really been a great actress. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Mm,” she hums pleasantly at you, nodding slowly and peering off into the house beyond your shoulder, “say…I’m, um, just a little…surprised by how sudden this all is.”

“Hmm?”

“With you and my brother,” she says straightforwardly. “Obviously, you must know he’s been married before, but it’s…a little odd, it feels like just yesterday when he told us he was…getting a divorce. And now he’s married again.” She trails off when she has some sobering thought that flashes through her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m blabbering about this. I’m just–...I’m just thinking out loud. It must be a sore topic.”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. No worries,” you say with an awkward laugh, “I’ve, um, come to terms with it?” You try your best to come up with a believable response.

“That’s good,” she says while she runs soothing circles with her thumb over the skin at her elbow, “well, some love moves faster than others.” She displays a well-meaning smile on her face. “I’m really happy for you two.”

For some reason, your heart warms. Like when the lines of reality and imagination blur, and so you’re left here with a truly comforting feeling. Only it’s fleeting and temporary, like escapism. “Thank you,” you say softly. And after a moment, “by the way, I’m really sorry for…Satoru and I not having a proper wedding. We just wanted something simple.”

She lets out a small scoff. “Oh, gosh, don’t apologize for that. I’m sick of weddings. I was so glad I didn’t have to peruse yet another wedding registry this year. There are only so many toaster ovens I can buy.”

You’re a little surprised by the humor from her, but the two of you let out small laughs in unison at the doorstep.

Sana glances at her watch. “I have to get going. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

You nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

You close the door slowly, watching her briefly through the stained glass window as she heads towards her car and gets inside before promptly driving off. 

There’s the sound of ruffling heard and then the sound of things falling off a shelf towards the kitchen. You turn on your heel and head in the direction. “Junooo,” you call out, “where are youuuu?”

“In here!” she chirps from the pantry room. You turn the light on to see her standing in the center with a couple boxes of cereal fallen around her. She’s holding an empty box in her hand. “The pop-tart box is empty,” she says with a pout and sulk of her shoulders as she makes the most :(( face you’ve ever seen a child make.

“Oh no,” you say, grabbing the box from her and inspecting the inside, “your devious uncle must’ve eaten them all in a manic episode.”

“What is a manic mean?” she asks you as she looks up, rubbing her ankle with her other foot.

“Oh, it’s like…crazy? He went crazy?”

She giggles at the thought.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you something,” you offer.

She shyly nods her head but her grin fully rounds her cheeks before she darts off towards the kitchen. 

You find her standing near the kitchen island, trying to get up onto one of the bar stools but to no avail. You come up behind her to pick her up then set her down on the seat, adjusting it so it’s a little higher. 

“What do you want me to make?” you ask her as you come around to the other side of the island and set your elbows up on the cold marble, leaning over to place your chin in your palm. 

“Um…” she brings her index finger up to her bottom lip in thought, “pancakes? Can I have blubbery pancakes?”

“Huh?” 

“Um…” she starts again, “last time, when I eated them at your house. Um, when I ated them at your house,” she tries to correct herself, “I really liked them.”

“Oh!” you perch up from your bent over position, “I remember! The blueberry pancakes. Aww, Juno, you remember that? How sweet.”

She becomes a little bashful and glances down at the her lap.

“Okayyy,” you say, placing your hands on your waist as you look around at the kitchen, “well I’ll have to see what ingredients I’m working with here, but hopefully I can make them for you.” You tilt your head at her before pointing a finger. “Have you ever seen the show Chopped?” 

She sits up straight with excitement. “Yes yes! Me and mommy love it.”

“Good. Let’s pretend I’m working with a mystery basket here,” you say, and then you turn around to open Gojo’s fridge. 

You can learn a lot about a person based on what the inside of their fridge looks like. You’re surprised to find the inside of his looks…sparkly? That was the only way you knew how to describe it. With clean shelves that reflect the bright lighting off the plastic, plastic that looks as mirror sheen as glass. As your eyes take in the contents inside, you notice he has some leftover thai food at the front, most likely leftovers from as recent as last night. One of the produce drawers is filled to the brim while the other is mostly empty, and you notice he separates them by leafy stuff vs. veggies. The leafy stuff is the drawer that’s filled to the brim, and you just know he’s stressed out over how to use all of it up before it starts wilting. Must’ve been on sale, you think to yourself. To the right of the fridge, there are an insane amount of orange juice cartons, and you notice he drinks the same one as you–pulp free with the added vitamins and calcium that’s made for kids. Although maybe he has an excuse for it, since he has a five-year-old niece. There’s a few containers of meal prep stacked up at the back of the fridge that look like some sort of arrangement of quinoa, chicken and Mediterranean vegetables. And then there’s just a bunch of assorted cans of beer throughout the fridge, which you assume are to appease the diverse preferences of his friends whenever he has them over. 

You grab a couple of eggs from the egg carton, placing them on the counter along with a stick of butter plus a half-full carton of milk, and peer deep into the fridge past the wall of condiments to eye for any fresh fruit such as berries, but you don’t see any. You try the freezer and are relieved when you see he has some frozen blueberries in there.

“Okay!” you shut the fridge. “Just need to grab a few more things from the pantry room and then I’ll make you your pancakes, okay?” 

Juno nods enthusiastically. “Um. Can I get my backpack?”

“Sure.” You pick her up off the bar stool to set her down on the ground and she runs to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab her things as you head to the pantry room. 

Flour, sugar, baking powder, all tucked in your elbows as you carry the ingredients back to the kitchen before dropping them onto the counter and picking Juno up to place her on the barstool again. She starts to lay out her glittery pens and pristinely sharpened pencils in front of her as well as a packet of papers. 

“I can’t believe they’re giving Kindergarteners homework these days…” you mutter under your breath as you grab a bowl. “Juno, wanna help me crack the eggs?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s go wash our hands then.”

As you mix all your ingredients together and Juno continues to stare at her papers with her face awfully close to them (does she need glasses?), you think to yourself what a nice little life this is. Although you haven’t been able to spend the day at your house like you were hoping you would, since you could finally have it for yourself, it was nice to spend it at Gojo’s. It was something different, something refreshing, something grounding. An escape that you needed. 

“Um. Auntie y/n?” Juno calls from behind you as you flip a pancake at the stove.

“Yes sweetheart.”

“How is mommy?”

“Hmm?” you hum. “My mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh you are just the sweetest thing. She’s doing okay. She’s just a little sick still.”

“When I’m sick,” Juno speaks up with a childlike enthusiasm in her voice, “my mommy gives me grape soor–...stir–” she struggles with the word, “shrup, ah, syrup! Grape syrup. It makes me better.”

“Ohhh honey, I know,” you coo as you try to match her enthusiasm, placing two little pancakes onto a plate for her. “When you get the sniffles, right?”

“Yes! Maybe your mommy will be better too if I give her some of my grape syoorup?”

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the food you were just plating.

The innocence of a child. It was hard to stay strong in the face of it. When you were younger, you probably would’ve thought that a magical potion would make your mom all better, too.

You turn around to face her. “Well,” you say, clearing your throat a little to fight the knot that you find is twisting it, “I think,” and now you’re blinking away the faint sheer of tears as you press your lips into a thin smile, your soft soft above a whisper, “that that is a wonderful idea.”

Juno gobbles up her blubbery pancakes with the extra maple syrup on them and you watch her take every bite. There was something satisfying about seeing a little kid eat so well. The sight made you feel well-fed on their behalf.

“Alright,” you say with a small grunt as you pick Juno up and set her down onto the ground, then take her hand to lead her over to the carpeted family room. “Let me take a look at this scrape of yours.”

Juno’s hand tugs slightly when you try to pull on it, so you turn around to see that she has stopped in her tracks halfway through the trek to the other room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

“I don’t want you to see it…”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ugly.”

“Juno,” you tug on her hand a little, “I have to see it so that I can clean it. Otherwise you might get sick. A type of sick that even grape syrup can’t fix.”

She looks up at you with curious eyes, not fearful ones. 

“There is sick like that?” she asks you.

“Yes. Now give me your arm.”

Juno follows you to the family room and stands still, the front of her jutting out slightly as she pouts, a display of her remaining disapproval for you taking a look at her scrape. You get down onto your knees and slowly undo the bandages, unwrapping the layers one-by-one before the end falls off and you’re staring at a 4x2cm superficial abrasion on her arm, and when your thumb lightly swipes at the skin underneath it, Juno winces from the pain.

You also notice she has a bruise on her left upper thigh, right below where the hem of her shorts end.

“You…only fell onto your right side, right?” you ask her.

“Mhm,” she nods.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How come you have a bruise on your left thigh then?”

Her eyes widen slightly with shock and her head quickly snaps down to look at her thigh. “Um. Um. I don’t know. Um. Um.”

“Juno,” you say, trying to muster up a strict tone, but she refuses to make eye contact with you anymore as she stares at the carpet beneath her. You gently grab a hold of both of her wrists. “Sweetheart. Look at me.” Her eyes slowly lift up to meet yours. “I want to help you, but I can't help you unless you’re honest with me.”

Her big eyes blink at you slowly and her bottom lip quivers slightly.

“How did you really hurt yourself?”

She immediately starts bawling. Full on sobs that echo throughout the room and startle you slightly as the tears freely fall down her cheeks and she struggles to wipe them off with her left arm, but they only drip down her elbow.

“Oh–” you stutter, holding her by her shoulders, “Juno–”

She sniffles. “They–” she hiccups, “they pushed me…they always push me.”

“Who pushed you?? Who always pushes you??”

She sucks in a deep breath as she continues to cry and you struggle to wipe at her tears for her with the pad of your thumb. “The–hic–girls at school. They’re so–hic–...wahhh…they’re so mean.”

“They pushed you on the playground and that’s how you got this scrape and bruise?” you ask her.

She nods as she slowly begins to come down from her outburst, her remnant sniffles and short sharp inhales showing that she was struggling to breath. You run to grab some tissues and then come back, holding them to her nose before she blows into them.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry,” you say to her.

She suddenly runs into you, hugging you tightly, and you’re momentarily surprised before wrapping an arm around her too and then gently patting at her back.

“How long has this been going on?” you ask her.

“Mm…ever since I–hic–ever since I got on T-ball team…but they couldn’t get on.”

“Oh…” you coo, gently rubbing her back now. You’re not a mom, you’ve got no fucking clue how to navigate this sort of situation. But you can try your best to give some advice. “Juno, you have every right to feel happy and safe at school.” You gently pull her away from the hug so that you can look at her face. “And it’s okay to stand up for yourself and against anyone that is being mean to you. Don’t let them take that power away from you.”

She nods slowly, her lip quivering slightly again.

You sigh slowly before giving her another hug. “And we’ll work out something with your mom too, okay? She can talk to the teachers.”

“No!” Juno shrieks, pulling away from you suddenly. You blink at her. “No. Please don’t tell my mommy.”

“W-Why not??”

“Because–” she stutters, “um…I want to tell her myself. Because I lied, and mommy always says to me to not tell lies. So I have to fix it myself.”

You tilt your head at her, frowning slightly. You’re not exactly sure how much autonomy over such things you should be granting a five-year-old, but you decide to give her the choice. You hold your pinky finger out to her, “you have to promise me you’ll tell her though, okay?”

She nods and wraps her pinky around yours. 

After getting her scrape cleaned up and tended to, Juno spends the next hour or so watching My Little Pony on the TV as you clean up the mess you made in the kitchen. And as you’re staring out into the backyard while wiping down the cutting board, the sound of the doorbell ringing makes you jump with a startle and breaks you out of your trance.

You were prepared to open the door to find Sana standing at the entrance, but instead you’re met with the sight of a different woman.

Much older, and with all the same features, it doesn’t really take you long to figure out who she is.

“Ah! There she is!” the woman chirps out. “I’m—”

“Juno’s grandmother,” you finish the statement for her.

“—Satoru’s mother,” she instead says.

You both blink at one another.

“Well,” she chirps, “I’m both!”

Gojo’s mother appears to be a kind woman, and it’s evident that being gorgeous must run in the family. Although she has aged features, they’re still beautiful in a graceful way, where people would take a look at her and think of aging as a privilege and not a curse. Her eyes are somewhat feline, different from the roundness of those you’ve seen in her family, and her hair is a shimmering silver all around with a pretty silk press layered hair style that flatters her frail jaw. She was wearing a French-style button up dress with a rather gaudy belt around her waist, and you catch the scent of her lilac perfume even while she’s standing three feet away.

She puts her hands on her hips and has a forced smile on her face. “My son gets married and he doesn’t even tell me a peep about it, or introduce me to his new wife! I have to come all the way over here myself!” she exclaims, and her tone is like she’s trying to play it off with nonchalance but the stiffness of her features makes it look like she’s losing her mind. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, “he’s always had the penchant for never sharing anything he ever does with me.”

“Ah…I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gojo,” you say to her, unsure why you’re apologizing, but there was this energy to her that made you realize she had a skill for making people feel apologetic in her presence.

“No worries! Not your fault. I’ll deal with him later,” she says, her smile growing to where it almost fully crescents her eyes in a frightening way that almost sends a shiver down your spine, “anywhoooo,” she takes both of your hands into hers, “you’re very beautiful, and you have a very lucky-looking nose!”

“Lucky?”

“Yes, yes. You will bring luck to our family.”

“Thanks?” you say, trying to manage a smile.

She takes a step closer to you. “Tell me, what do your parents do for a living?”

“Oh! Um, well, my mom is retired, but she used to be an art teacher. My dad is in the food business, but uh, I haven’t spoken to him in years ever since my parents got divorced.”

“Ah,” she says curtly, her face blank as if she couldn’t think of a single thing to follow up with after that. She peers past your shoulder. “Where’s the little princess?”

“She’s just inside grabbing her things.” You gently slip your hands out of her hold and turn around to face the inside of the house. “Juno!! Do you need help?”

“No!!” she calls from the kitchen.

“Say, my dear,” Gojo’s mother speaks up, “why don’t you and Satoru come by for dinner this weekend? Jun and Sana apparently have some important news they’d like to share with the family, and I offered that we all hear it together over a meal. This way you can meet your father-in-law too!”

You take a deep breath in, realizing that this fake marriage agreement involves a lot more deceit than you ever thought it would. “Sure. Yes. I’d love that. Let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaims, just in time for when you feel Juno brush past you towards her grandma, hunching over slightly with her backpack’s weight. Gojo’s mother pulls you in for a hug which entirely startles you and you slowly wrap your arms around her as well. “It’s so lovely to have a daughter-in-law. Oh, I am just so happy to have you in our family.”

She lets go of you but still keeps you close by a delicate hold of your elbows, a gleeful smile on her face as she looks you up and down slowly.

“Bye, auntie y/n!!” Juno squeaks out, hugging your leg, and you pat at the top of her head. Her grandmother finally lets go of you and takes Juno’s tiny hand in her frail one, and you see them off to the car.

By the time you make it back inside the house, you let out a deep slow breath, one that you didn’t know you were holding in, as you lay your weight back on the front door. You feel a pressure in your head from your dwindling social battery and all these tricky encounters.

So, you’re part of a whole other family, now?

That. Is. Frightening.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 3]

a/n. ah!! hope you enjoyed this ihm chapter :’’) sorry if it seemed like a bunch of random scenes lolol i swear it’s all set up for stuff that will happen down the lineee. i just be yappin so the word count ends up kinda high. hope to see you in the next one!! <3 love u all. also it’s my frank ocean anons bday today so i dedicate this chapter to themm 🫶🏼💕 manifesting dilf gojo for u bb for anyone curious about why reader is a bit paranoid w potentially being busted for her fake marriage, i had another reader that was curious about this too so i answered them here if you'd like to check it out :)

➸ take me to chapter four!

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[froggibus]

i really love how you write the obey me characters, i feel like theyre so in character and i appreciate that a lot! If i may, can i request headcanons of the brothers on how they help Mc stay hydrated? lol Especially now that it’s summer and drinking water is more important than ever. I feel like they would all have their own way of doing so.

thank you :-)

The Hydration Situation - Obey Me! Brothers

Genre: fluff/crack

CW: dehydration + effects of dehydration, lots of water drinking, kinda protective! brothers, Beel/Satan/Asmo are the only ones who understand hydration, slightly overbearing brothers, Levi is a weeb, reader kinda = MC

that is so kind, it’s really nice to hear you enjoy it!! summer writing has me in a CHOKEHOLD right now so I’d absolutely love to do this for you! thanks for the req & hope you enjoy 💓 also the title kinda sounds like a big bang theory episode lol

Lucifer:

he has some…interesting ways to make you stay hydrated

obviously he starts with the easy ones/what works on his brothers

he will make it more easily accessible, maybe buy you a cute water bottle & some stickers to decorate it

also will remind you CONSTANTLY

but if that doesn’t work, he’s going to Pavlov you (esp if you respond well to praise)

anytime he sees you drinking water, he’ll reward you (stickers, praise, snacks)

anytime you forget, he gives you a disappointed sigh (usually reserved for Mammon) and makes it well known that he’s upset

(spoiler: he never actually is)

if you ever complain about a headache, muscle cramps etc it’s SO over

the first question he’s asking is if you’ve drank enough water, followed by him asking you why you haven’t drank enough water

he WILL make you sit in his office with him while he does paperwork and monitor your water intake

until you’ve drank enough for the time of day & staved off the incoming effects of dehydration, you’re not leaving

(Levi begrudgingly partners with Mammon to try to rescue you, which just ends up with all three of you being locked in his office and forced to drink water)

Mammon:

he himself is not the best at remembering to drink water

however Satan told him some fun (read: unfun) facts about humans and dehydration that have made him paranoid for life

he’s absolutely convinced you’re going to drop dead on the spot of you forget your water for even an hour (very funny to watch)

this leads to him always carrying water for you in his bag and car like a worried mom, and setting alarms for himself to remind you

probably keeps an entire case of water bottles in the mini fridge in his room just so he can always have one on hand

however don’t you dare question why or else you’ll get a lecture :,)

“whaddya mean overbearing? d’ya wanna die or something? is that it? you’re my—our—human & it’s my—our—job to take care of ya”

whenever you guys go out to eat he’ll always force you to order a water and won’t let you get anything else (even juice) until you’re finished

accidentally ends up drinking more water himself, too

(also probably pavlovs himself into associating it with you)

despite how cheap he is, if you run out of water when you’re out and about, he will spend an absurd 5$ on a plastic water bottle for you

Levi:

again, definitely not the best at remembering his water

he lives off of Baja Blast or something (even tho he’s literally a sea creature)

he’s playing a game like Kenshi or Raft or something and realizes that humans are so fragile they’ll die without water

even tho he could technically research this he doesn’t and just lets himself panic spiral instead

decides that it’s now his responsibility to make sure you drink enough water and that he’s your protector

honestly it’s really sweet if a little dorky

trades out all his soda for water and Gatorade and when you ask about it he just says he’s ’being healthier’

feels super awkward when you praise him for that

whenever you come for your late night movie marathons he has a glass of water waiting for you (in some cool cup, no doubt)

he’ll offer you up some Gatorade if you finish and some ‘healthy’ snacks like strawberry pocky (cause it totally has real strawberry in it)

feels super happy and proud of himself that he’s helping you get better and staving off the effects of dehydration

probably forces you to wear a dorky matching bucket hat anytime you go outside

“it’s hot out! you need water and shelter or it’s game over”

??

Satan:

the least but also the most overbearing ever

read about it in some book about humans in the summertime and he’s been worried about it ever since

buys a notebook (that he lets you decorate) that he keeps a little water log in

he’ll colour in squares every time you meet your hourly water goal and (unbeknownst to you) he’ll give you a sticker at the end of the day if you meet it

you’re a little confused but who doesn’t love a free sticker?

super big stickler about sun protection too—if you try to leave the house without some SPF and a hat, he’s dragging you back inside until you agree to

you don’t really notice or care that much when he’s suddenly following you around with a journal everywhere—you just assume it’s one of his experiments

let’s it ‘slip’ to the other brothers so that they can watch over you whenever he’s not around (which just results in all of them panicking oops)

if the temp outside reaches above like 30c/90f, he won’t let you leave without a water bottle and some sort of sports drink

though he’ll really just find someway to coax you into the house

“there’s this new book I got in a lot online and I couldn’t help but notice it was also on your wishlist…care to take it off my hands?”

he thinks he’s slick… but also it works lol

you two end up spending most of the hot days inside, cozied up in the air conditioning of his room reading books

Asmo:

probably the only one who’s made you drink water outside of the summer months

he’s a stickler for hydration so anytime you’re hanging out, he’s always serving up some sort of new fancy water

has a little mini fridge of it like Chopped Leaf

watermelon, cucumber, charcoal, coconut—you name it

he lets you be for the most part, but if it’s a particularly hot day or he notices your skin and hair are looking a little dull, he’ll step in

does something lowkey, like a self care day

he’ll pamper you as a distraction to keep slipping you glasses of water, and by the end of the day, you’re back to your usual glowy self

he has a little app on his phone to track his water intake and probably has an extra little profile for you on it

the only one aside from Satan who also realizes you need electrolytes and vitamins in addition to the water

(meanwhile the other brothers have just been flushing all the nutrients out of you 😭)

don’t worry, he has an insane vitamin collection to make up for it

keeps those Alani Nu energy drinks around since they have collagen & stuff in them

also he’s like those people online who have like a crazy collection of different shapes/flavours of ice cubes

if you’re particularly sick or dehydrated, he’ll make a fun little game out of it by setting up a water bar or something for the two of you

it’s really sweet, honestly

Beel:

as a football player, he knows how important it is to stay hydrated

probably didn’t realize just how fragile humans are until you get woozy and delirious while playing football outside

he’s super worried but keeps it together and does a little research on his DDD

shows you where he keeps his secret stash of water, sports drinks & energy drinks

totally gives you a free pass to have any that you want too

after that, he’s watching you like a hawk

he’ll subconsciously time you and if you haven’t drank water in a while, he’ll give you a gentle reminder to

ends up getting you a water bottle (maybe one that matches his sports one ^^) just so that you’ll remember

like Mammon he keeps water on him at all times so that you can both stay hydrated

during your midnight snack runs, he won’t share with you until you drink a big cup of water (sometimes more if you’re having something salty!!)

he also has those flavoured electrolyte packets to make it a little more fun for you if you need it

or if it’s just very, very hot outside

he’ll make you a fun little glass of water and maybe even garnish it with an umbrella like a cocktail

also makes you eat lots of hydrating foods!! watermelon & cucumber are big ones for him, maybe celery and grapes too

he’ll make a little platter for you guys to share

Belphie:

I do not believe this man drinks water I’m sorry

didn’t care much at first about your water intake but when he notices you getting a little run down, he steps it up

makes sure to keep an extra glass of water on his nightstand for you whenever you come to nap or play games with him

sets alarms so he can wake up between naps and check on you

although he’ll just lazily text “water?” to you most of the time

and you just respond with a thumbs up emoji or something

probably finds those ‘sleepy mocktails’ online or something and makes you them before bed

like the magnesium cranberry juice ones

steals from Beel’s secret stash for you

probably has a secret mini fridge in one of his nightstands and stocks it up with extra water for you

on particularly hot nights (esp if you’re sweating a lot) he might wake you up so you can take a few sips of water

cause nothing is worse than waking up all achy with a dry throat and nose

making you drink more water kinda forces him to drink more water too

Asmo is absolutely seething with envy at how shiny Belphie’s skin and hair get

(this summer becomes known as the summer MC pees a million times lol)

masterlist | obey me masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[lookingoutforstarrs]

nsfw alphabet with hamzah!

cw: uh like everything very nsfw

aftercare- biiiiig aftercare man. he makes sure you’re all good and gets you water. he needs to be HELDDD loves to just lay in your arms after the deed. eventually falls asleep from you rubbing his back

body part- his favorite body part of his is probably his arms. he loves when you hold onto his biceps, it makes him feel all manly lol

he doesn’t really have a favorite for you, he loves it all lol. lives your thighs and hips and if you workout he looooooves your muscles. thinks they’re really hot.

cum- LOVES to cum in you and watch it drip out (slight breeding kink lols) but if you’re not using birth control then definitely in your mouth or on your stomach.

dirty secret- steals your panties. this man is a perv 100% and will steal your panties to jerk off to them. and he acts all surprised when you notice that some pairs have gone missing. he be all like “whaaaat thats wiiilddddd”

experience- he had never had sex before you. he had kissed one girl in high-school but nothing after that so you have to break him in a little

favorite position- looves when you ride him. like lives for it. but if you’re tired that day he doesn’t mind missionary!

goofy- tries to be to calm his own nerves but it just comes across like he’s nervous (which he most definitely is). depends on the day really. if yall are drunk/stoned he is really goofy. always giggling.

hair- he’s well groomed. very conscious about it at first but then he knows you dont rlly care. he doesnt care how shaven you are as long as he gets some ass lol

intimacy- again, he starts off goofy but then hes like “oh they fr want to fuck me” and he locks in😭😭 loves for you to look him in the eye while riding him. also loves to make out while feeling each other up.

jack off- he jerks off regularly but then he meets you and he’s horny 24/7 so he does it wayyyy more often. even before y’all start dating he’s thinking of you and touching himself :((

kink- biiiiiiiiiiig praise kink, but mostly receiving. he needs to be told he’s making you feel good, it makes him 10000% hornier.

location- preferably the bedroom but doesn’t mind car sex. he likes watching the windows fog up lolz

motivation- anything you do. like anything. but usually its when he sees you concentrating on one thing really hard, he pictures that you’re looking at him like that and it gets him all hot and bothered

NO- no gross shit. also doesn’t like tying you down or restricting you.

oral- he’s a munch and i will die on this hill. i’ve said this before but he could spend hours between your thighs. he gets off on it. when he gets head though he’s a crier 100%. constant rambling because it feels too good to keep quiet.

pace- you have to go slow with him the first couple of times so he doesn’t cum too fast :((. it all depends on how fast you want to go tho! he will hang on the edge for hours just for you.

quickie- not big on them. prefers that you take your time

risk- he will freak the freak out if someone catches him subbing. needs people to think he’s manly.

stamina- needs a lil break after but can do 4-5 rounds a night. again, he will sit between your legs for years so he only stops when you’re ready.

toy- loves when you use your vibrator on him. he never thought it would feel so good. also the pervy part of him likes to watch you use it on yourself

unfair- he’s not much of a tease, he’ll give you what you want when you want it. but he loooooves when you tease him.

volume- LOUD. constantly rambling nonsense and cant keep quiet. whimpers when you tease him and MOAAAAANNNNNSSS.

wild card- loves dry humping SO MUCH.

x-ray- a good 6-7 inches. not too much not too little, and he knows how to use it

yearning- he is always ready to fuck dude. before yall start dating he wants you so bad it physically hurts

ZZZ- like i said for the aftercare part, he makes sure you’re taken care of then falls asleep in your arms.

[nolan-chance-fortnite]

HOTTEST GUYS ON THE ISLAND - TIER LIST

I think everyone is here! Forgive me if I missed someone!! If I did... Probably you're not handsome enough (?) or you are!

TIER 1: NOLAN CHANCE TIER

Nolan Chance: The one and only! Ladies, please, contain your orga$ms, I'm here and I have something for everyone!! OH BOY! OH YEAH BABY I'M COMING (To change your life, lady!)

TIER 2: DILFS (if i were a girl)

White haired guy: Just because reminds me of me in my tactical suit. Otherwise he'd be after BL.

Montague: God he's HOT. I want him to speak french to me while he stuffs me little ol' pockets with diamonds!

King Midas/Midas: A tie. A respectful tie. You guys are good looking, I admire you King Midas, Regular Midas (but not as regular as us human beings)

Dirty Jones: Stinky, I wish i had your stubble... between my le—

Lorenzo: Very handsome young boy! Man, you and I are someone's twink dream team

TIER 3: Handsome guys please dont break my bones

Doctor: I think I'd like to hug him, I think he could fix me

Persephone: Persephone (love your eyes)

Drift: Man, give me your arms routine! You're ripped!

Captain Jones: DAMN BOY LOOK AT THAT ASS

Wrecker: Move your butt and wreck this d—

Ezio: Man, show your face a bit more! Love your beard

Rust: He's gonna hit me if i put him lower

Raz: My man needs therapy but keep doing what you're doing with that hair!

Raptor: Just he right amount of face shown!

Lord Hades: Lord Hades I love you and I adore you and I respect you but... you scare me a LOT

Chuggus: Healty! I'm not into you, but I'd like you to be into ME (as shield potion of course)

BL: Yeah boy I sure love BL!

TIER 4: Ehhhh confusing

Oscar: Scary cat, fancy pet. I wish I could take him pictures with outfits to upload it to my social network accounts

Motorcycle guy: Scary guy

Cerberus: Scary underworld dog

????: What is that thing?

Pink Guy: Your balloon face creeps me out a bit but keep spreading love! This island is missing SO MUCH LOVE!

Banana beard man: ?????? But I think Banana beard man is a Banana beard They. if so, sorry for that, they fellow!

Wasteland Dummy: I liked you better when you were regular dummy

Pea bois: The third one looks like he wants to kiss me. Sorry boys, you need two more bodies to qualify as hot. Keep up the good work with cars tho!

TIER 5: I wanna puke

Bucket man: Old man, ew

Robot: Cold, I don'tlike cold

Fire skull: Way too hot to handle

Skull Trooper: Fucj that guy, score a goal and we'll see if you get higher

Paxton Price: FOR REAL FUCJ THAT GUY

Mega London: Your 7 foot long thing is not enough to make you equal a fraction of my rizz

Pd: Nolan Chance is not gay, I just think we males and theymales should be allowed to say to each other "hey, nice muscles bro" in the same way girls compliment each other. Let's go bros! Yeah, football!

[hotchs-big-hands]

The Slaughterhouse

Part 1|Part 2

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size!fem reader 7k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, graphic murder description, injury, gore, blood, fatphobia, extreme angst (with a happy ending), sort-of enemies to lovers, kidnapping, torture, references to SA, derogatory nsfw comments. Oh and I use the word fat because I personally reclaimed it to not rly insult me as it is merely a descriptive word. I do not use it in an insulting way even once in the series.

Please heed the warnings, this series is going to be dark asf. No smut in this series tho.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

Hello!!! It's been a bit since part 1 but here we are! My brain is fried but it is what it is. I hope you all enjoy this second part!!

The sounds of people talking outside nearby where a bar and restaurant was, was the only noise when you shut your mouth tight, apart from the pulsing of your heartbeat in your ears. Hotch was staring at you, processing your words. He blinked slowly.

"What do you mean?" He finally asked, his brows pulling together. You shifted around uncomfortably under his dark eyed gaze.

"I mean it's not on my person."

You skittered towards your bag and all but emptied it entirely, sifting through your belongings in an attempt to find the palm sized FBI badge. But aside from embarrassingly showing your undergarments you'd packed to your boss, there was no sign of it. You swallowed and glanced at him.

"I'll check the car you arrived in. Take your shower for now." He said.

With a hesitant nod, you watched him grab the car keys from his jacket pocket and rush out of the room. Exhaling, you returned to the shower room and decided to do as he said, undressing quickly and turning the water on. Upon the temperature reaching the level you preferred, you stepped under the spray and let it cascade down your form for a moment, tilting your head back and letting out a quiet groan. You hadn't realised how tense you'd become over the duration of the day. With your bottle of your favourite scented shower gel, you lathered up and began to massage your tight muscles gently. You didn't want to take too long as you were certain your roomie would no doubt want to take a shower of his own.

When you felt sufficiently clean you switched the water off and stepped out, grabbing your towel to begin drying yourself off. You dressed quickly, strongly regretting your choice of sleep attire even more so when you finally glanced at your reflection wearing it. Entirely inappropriate for your boss to see, you thought as your eyes trailed over the faded baggy crop top and tight pajama shorts that ended just below your rump. But there was nothing else you could do now, so with a sigh you grabbed your discarded clothes and wash bag after you'd hanged your towel up to dry and exited the shower room. Hotch had returned at some point looking frazzled as he paced the length of the room. He paused when you stepped out into the main space. He was frowning, only for him to raise a brow for a split moment when he took in your appearance..

"It's not in the car."

You felt your lower lip twitch.

"Oh. I'll have a look in the station tomorrow then." You mumbled, dipping your head slightly. “I’ll uhm, message the others and ask them if they’ve seen it too.”

Hotch puffed out air from his nostrils.

"Make sure you do, (L/n), this is highly irresponsible of you to lose it." He grunted in response. You blinked rapidly, you would not cry.

"Shower's all yours." You managed to choke out and you rushed towards your side of the bed. You heard him sigh.

"Thanks."

You dared not turn around until you heard the click of the shower room lock, to which you shakily exhaled and stuffed your dirty clothes into the bottom of your go bag. You were positively feeling like the biggest idiot right now, what the hell kind of FBI agent loses their credentials?! You hadn't heard of this happening before. Would you be reprimanded? Be forced to stay working in the office? What if you were deemed unsuitable for the job now and fired?? You hated the thought, a wave of nausea hitting you as coldness sunk deep into your stomach.

No. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You'd check the police precinct tomorrow, it would be okay.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to observe the room around you in an attempt to settle your mind.

As the vast majority of hotels you stayed in, it wasn’t overly decorated. The walls were a dull, pale grey which would give you a headache if you stared at them for too long under the pathetic excuse of a ceiling light. There were only a few canvases on the wall, the art uninspiring and forgettable as they hung slightly crooked. There was a single wooden table and uncomfortable chair towards the farside of the room, already occupied by your boss’ varying paperwork he never seemed to be without, no matter what. There was a simple flatscreen attached to the wall, usually unused by yourself and evidently by your temporary roommate as well. A small closet boasted nothing of interest, but the one thing that stood out was the floor length mirror, which stood near the bed. The placement was certainly… a choice.

You huffed out a breath as you settled down on the bed, laying down on your side facing away from the shower room and your eyes drifted towards the mirror again. You didn’t know why it took your brain so long to register what reflected for you to see until a moment too late; you had a perfect view of that door- and now it was open. Your eyes widened at the view of Aaron Hotchner towelling his short, dark hair dry and leaving it sticking up in odd directions. But that wasn’t the only thing your attention was drawn to.

The white tee shirt shaped around his arm muscles and his broad body, slightly damp from his dewy skin and revealing his, admittedly delicious, physique. You desperately wanted to- no, needed to- close your eyes right now and yet they remained open, drifting down the soft swell of his stomach until they met his underwear, tightly stretched around his strong thighs from the many years of running and cycling the man had partook in. He was certainly…endowed.

“I can see you too, you know.” Hotch’s slightly gruff, tired voice startled you and you met his eye in the mirror. Something flashed in those dark eyes and you felt your cheeks warm.

“Was thinking, sorry.”

“Mhm.”

The bed dipped under the man’s weight as he crawled onto the mattress, tucking under the covers with a quiet grunt. Your heart was pounding and you could only hope he wouldn’t be able to hear or feel it. There was quiet for a moment, then you cleared your throat.

“I… good night, sir.” you mumbled. You felt Hotch shift beside you as he strained to switch the light off.

“Good night.” you heard him respond quietly, and then you were plunged into darkness. You had no idea how the fuck you were meant to get some sleep now.

However, it wasn't until the racing of your heart awoke you that you realised you most certainly had managed to finally doze off. But that wasn't the only thing you realised, with the scenes of your dream seared into your mind causing your chest to heave.

Why, of all times, did your brain have to make you dream of that? How embarrassing, you thought, and attempted to shift to a different position. Which was when you realised your blanket was heavy and your pillow far too warm. Then you heard him.

“Nngh… What is it?” he murmured, voice heavy and deep with sleep. His arm draped over your back tightened a little, pulling you closer to rest your head more on his chest. Surely, he would feel your frantic heart rate. You had to respond quickly so as not to arouse suspicion.

“Everything’s f-fine. Just go back to sleep.”

He grumbled and the grip tightened a little more when you made a second attempt to move.

“No… comfy.” his words slurred as he drifted back to sleep. Oh fuck. Trying to calm your breathing, you embraced the notion you were unmoving from his embrace now.

“Alright, tell me everything.” Emily greeted you the following morning as you made your way to the SUVs in the hotel parking lot after awkwardly navigating around your boss that morning. You scowled.

“Well good morning to you too.”

The dark haired woman grinned at you.

“You’re dodging my question.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.” you said quickly. Emily lightly shoved you in the shoulder with her hand and pulled an exaggerated pout.

“You’re still avoiding answering me.”

A defeated sigh passed your lips.

“Nothing actually happened. Well, besides sharing a bed because our room only had one in it.” you spoke quickly and quietly so as to not garner attention from the others. “It’s a big bed to be fair but still…”

Excitement sparkled in Emily’s eyes, a glint that caused the hair on your arms to raise. You were grateful when you spotted the younger men of the team; Derek and Spencer, exit the lobby and rush towards you. With one final warning glance at your devious friend, you opened your car door when you heard the lock click and ultimately, the moment was over.

“Any luck finding your credentials?” You heard JJ ask you as she approached the car. It would seem the five of you were travelling together today. You shook your head.

“No. I’m gonna have to check at the station.”

“That’s too bad, we could help you if you’d like.” Spencer offered and you smiled slightly, but declined.

“It’s okay. We have more important things to be doing anyway.”

The drive was unmemorable but allowed you some reprieve from a difficult night trying to sleep. But now came the task of trying to find that damn FBI badge. Deep down you already knew it wasn’t in the station, but there were no other options other than to check anyway. It was humiliating, what FBI agent lost their badge? Certainly none you had ever heard about before. Whilst your teammates were in the other room setting up for the day and firing off ideas, here you were frantically searching around whilst police officers leered at you. Eventually, you had to give up. But… that meant you had to inform Hotch you couldn’t find it.

You felt slightly shaky as you entered the spacious office the others were in and it was as though immediately all eyes were on you; it made your heart rate spike uncomfortably. His presence was around you then as he crossed the room to stand before you and you swallowed. You dared not look up at him, but you knew what his expression would be right now as he folded his arms across his broad chest.

“I hope you’re about to tell me you found your badge and that it isn't missing, agent.” he said abruptly, making you clench your hands into fists.

“Sir, I have tried searching. I’ve asked people and tried my best to find it but-”

“-So you’ve lost it then.” Hotch cut you off. “In all my time working in the FBI, I have never encountered an agent who was incompetent enough to lose their badge.”

You let out a quiet gasp, a cold feeling dropping into the pit of your stomach. Around you, several of the others had risen from their seats to mitigate the situation.

“Hotch…” You absently heard from behind the man towering over you, but you couldn’t pay the speaker any mind.

“Sir, I-”

“I don’t think you understand the severity of this, agent.” He cut you off as he stepped closer, dark eyes boring down into yours, “I’m not sure if I can allow you to work on the case until it is found, (L/n). This is highly irrespo-”

This time, you spoke before he could finish you spoke desperately, heart pounding in your chest.

“-Sir! You can’t kick me off the case, I didn’t intentionally lose it! We need everyone working on this one.” you said, earning a disapproving furrow of Hotch’s brow. But just as the man opened his mouth to speak, a hand pressed against his chest and lightly pushed him back, and it was then you realised Rossi had rushed over to separate the both of you.

“Aaron, back off. You know she is still capable of doing her job, badge or no badge.”

Hotch turned his head in the direction of the older agent, his chest puffing as he drew in a sharp breath.

“Dave, this was highly irresponsible of her to lose it-”

“And we can deal with the repercussions of this later but right now we have a case to work on.” The man countered, his tone firm but uncruel. The unit chief exhaled, closing his eyes for a mere moment as he slightly nodded.

“Right,” he glanced at you, the frustrated furrow of his brow dissipating. “Excuse me.”

Without so much as barely brushing against you, Hotch left the room and you stumbled back, overwhelmed by the emotions crashing down on you. Rossi reached out to steady you, bringing you back to reality. And then the sudden flush of tears sprang up in your eyes, making them sting.

“I-I-”

“You’re alright,” Rossi said calmly, holding onto your arms as he pulled you further into the room. “Aaron has been stressed about the badge more than he’ll admit. I’ll handle him though.”

You barely comprehended the others moving around the room until a plastic cup of cold water was gently pushed into your hands and you met the slightly blurred face of JJ as she smiled hesitantly at you.

“Come on, sit over here.”

You sniffled and sipped on the water.

“I should clean up in the restroom.” you murmured. Emily strode towards you immediately.

“Want me to come along?”

You shook your head.

“It’s okay. You guys should focus on the work anyway. I’ll be quick.”

Finishing the cup of water quickly, you didn’t wait for an answer and instead turned away to head out of the room. Your mind swirled, however. Maybe you should have just agreed to stay at Hotch’s side on this one, then perhaps you wouldn’t have ended up doing something as stupid as losing your FBI badge. But now not only was it still missing but he was angry with you, too. You dreaded the following days sharing a hotel room with him for a whole other reason at this point. You sighed as you pushed the door to the restrooms open and trudged over to one of the sinks to splash some cool water onto your face. There was nothing else you could do about that for now.

Not really feeling much better, you exited the restroom and returned to the others. He had not returned. With a resigned sigh, you turned your attention to the boards covered in the stomach-churning photographs of the victims. Beside you, Rossi sidled up.

“Any thoughts?” he asked. You cleared your throat.

“Well… one thing in common these women have, apart from having a similar body type to one another, is their body language in photos.” You began, pointing at the images of the victims from when they were alive. “If you study how they pose, the position they take in groups, their general demeanour; they are very uncomfortable. They don’t enjoy being noticed or the centre of attention.”

The man beside you tilted his head slightly as he studied the images with you.

“Insecurity?”

“Yes.”

“The others never mentioned that.” Rossi countered and you exhaled through your nose sharply.

“I figured. But I mean… this helps us to figure out the profile, right?”

The both of you glanced at one another and he nodded slightly.

“I’ll call Aaron in, ask the others to gather the officers so we can deliver the profile.” he said with a final nod, then he pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped away. Behind you, the rest of the team were gathering and you turned to them with a shuddering breath.

“Figured out a profile.”

There were far too many pairs of eyes upon you now with the station of officers and chiefs gathering before you. But the one pair that unnerved you the most was in the far back, staring intensely in the dim corner of the open bullpen you all resided in. This was your one chance to prove to Hotch you were still highly capable of working, and right now you were unsure you felt entirely confident you could.

You cleared your throat and turned your head to Rossi, who was joining you with the task. He smiled faintly and you wrinkled your nose nervously as you returned to address the room.

“We believe we have an idea of the type of person we are looking for,” you said confidently, eyes drifting around the room. “The unsub is a white male in his late twenties to early thirties, of above slightly more average attractiveness but not too attractive.”

Rossi continued on from you with ease.

“This is important, our victims would not have had the best confidence and so they would not trust following or even talking to someone who appeared far more attractive than the average person.”

“Pfft, I wonder why that is.” One of the officers out front muttered, elbowing the man next to him. Your brows furrowed, and you noted Emily and Derek moving towards the pair- only to be surprised when Hotch beat them to it as he sneered down at the men.

“I would be quiet, if I were you.” he hissed, glaring darkly with those deep brown eyes of his.

“Y-yeah…” the one who had originally spoken shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You glanced up, realising Hotch was watching you carefully. You offered a slight nod and drew in a deep breath.

“The unsub has a clear and distinct dislike for fat women in particular, as evident with the brutality of the killing. The wounds and draining of blood suggests experience with such things, so it would be a good idea to check on facilities that require such skills.”

“Why would the victims go with him if they had such a low opinion of themselves?” the chief of police questioned you. You sighed.

“When you’re someone who has gone through a life of rejection, of no one showing interest in you it affects you greatly.” Your eyes flicked to Hotch, of whom was a little closer this time, but quickly looked away when you met his stare. “But if someone shows apparent genuine interest in you, much like I think this unsub does to lure the victims, you can’t help but let your guard down and let that person get closer to you. You trust them.”

“Sounds like victim blaming.”

You felt your lip twitch. “Actually, I speak from a place of experience.”

Fuck, you needed a moment of respite. Sensing your discomfort, Rossi continued and finished the profile, leaving you to thank the police department for sitting through the profile. Your tight-lipped smile faded as soon as people began to stand and walk away and you exhaled, shaking your head to yourself as you processed everything.

The others approached you, Emily reaching you first and she smiled kindly.

"Not bad. I think you did a good job there." She said.

With a shrug you adjusted your clothing and turned to the board.

"Did my best."

Derek approached now with a creased brow of concern.

“Is it true? Y’know, about knowing from experience.” He asked you softly. Your eyes darted around and your body tensed upon the sight of Hotch speaking just out of range to the police chief, only to lock eyes with you once more.

“I… Now isn’t really the time to talk about that, don’t you think?”

Following your line of sight, he quirked his head and blinked slowly.

“Fair enough, we’ve got your back though, sweets.”

A faint smile dusted your lips in appreciation before it fell and you exhaled. It was then your leader approached, his face stony. Embarrassingly, you busied yourself with grabbing your casefile and flicking it open, hoping to appear invisible to the man. But of course, the cards were against you.

“(L/n).” You heard Hotch call out. You lifted your head up, eyes widening a little.

“Yes, sir?”

His expression was unreadable, but he nodded once at you. “You did very well with the profile, even with interruptions.” he said.

Oh. In return you smiled shyly and shifted from one foot to the other.

“Thank you, sir.”

An unfamiliar emotion swept across his face, only for him to quickly turn his attention to the rest of the BAU. You couldn’t help but feel a dullness in your chest but you tried to ignore it. There was work to still be done.

Irritably, the unsub had been elusive; no evidence on the bodies or a location they possibly could have been murdered before being dumped around the area. Rossi and yourself had even visited the butcher’s shop in town for leads, given the skill suggested in the murders. But in the end they came back with nothing. With nothing else to go by, it came down to the one thing the team hated most: waiting for the killer to strike again. And strike they did two days later.

There was a tension rising terribly between yourself and Hotch at this point, it was clear he was very much thinking about the lost FBI badge understandably, but something else hung over you both, an undeniable looming feeling that made hotel room sharing an even more difficult affair. Every night you found yourself waking up and curled up to him, his arm laid over your plush waist and your head on his chest. He never mentioned it to you, in the morning he was already out of bed by the time you awoke, suit pristine and the man heading out the door to give you privacy to get ready for the day ahead.

But unlike the other days you awoke, your alarm hadn’t gone off and this time the room was empty. Hotch was nowhere to be seen, the room felt absent of his presence. It was… off. Instinctively, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand beside you and pulled up the group chat, feeling your heart sink immediately.

Shit, this was a few minutes ago. As you stumbled out of bed, the phone began to buzz with a phone call. Hotchner. You swiped to answer and you cradled it against your ear with your shoulder whilst you fumbled with your go-bag.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. My alarm didn’t go off-”

“(L/n). Listen to me. There has been another body found.” Hotch cut you off. You froze. The phone dropped from its place between your ear and shoulder and clattered to the ground. It was the only thing to bring you to the present when you heard a crack. Shakily, you crouched and grabbed it and pressed it to your ear.

“(L/n)? What was that?”

You let out a shuddering breath.

“Sorry, dropped my phone. I’ll- I’ll be there as soon as I can, sir.”

You ended the call quickly and scrambled to clean up and dress yourself before you were out the door in a panic. You felt a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“(L/n), I need you at the crime scene with Reid and I.” Hotch said when you rushed over to the gathered group outside the precinct.

You nodded without question. “Of course.”

The drive was quiet on your end, only barely hearing the words “deceased for a few hours at most” at one point.

“Hey, are you alright?” You heard Reid ask you. You swallowed thickly.

“Sure, sure. I mean, I don’t think anyone really feels alright on the way to a new crime scene.” you uttered, then grimaced. “Sorry, that came out rude. I’ll be okay, Spencer.”

You looked into the side mirror and noted he was smiling softly at you in response.

“You said your alarm didn’t ring.” Hotch said. You shifted in your seat.

"It didn’t, no. I don’t know why though. I have it set for everyday.”

He said nothing else, but it mattered not anyway when the location of the crime scene came into view. Swallowing the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, you exited the SUV when Hotch parked up and the three of you quickly pulled on hazmat gear on, something you didn’t often do given you were not the ones to visit a crime scene in which a body was still present. A group of forensic were near where you assumed the body to be, turning to your trio when they heard you approach. The way their faces changed when they noticed you though… You didn’t like it one bit.

“Uh… Is she okay being here?” One asked and Hotch stepped forth.

“Yes. She is a highly capable agent as any other.” He said. You blinked a few times, surprised by his words. You certainly didn’t expect the change of tone in regards to you from him.

Seemingly defeated, the figures parted the way and you were able to see the body.

It was as though your heart leaped into your throat.

There, laying splayed out and naked with her legs spread, as all the other victims were, was the body of someone you recognised. Well, as much as you could through the mutilations to her face. Immediately, Hotch and Reid could tell something was wrong.

“(Y/n)...” You heard the older of the two say in warning. You didn’t feel you were fully there.

“I… I knew her.” You managed to muster. “That’s Carla Reynolds; I spoke to her on the first day when Derek and I were talking to people at the bar the victim before her was last seen. I…”

Then you spotted it.

“(L/n).” Hotch said in warning as you knelt. One of the forensic team followed you down as you pointed at the mutilated space between the victim’s legs.

“Something’s there.” You whispered. The CSI carefully reached forward and grabbed the small, flat object that was lodged face upwards in the victim’s genitals. Before they had pulled it out the whole way you knew instantly what it was. You swallowed the urge to vomit. Covered in blood and other substances in their hand was your FBI badge. You barely managed to stand without stumbling, your companions grasping you to steady you when the badge was opened to reveal your photo within.

“Oh god…” You whispered. “I-I someone bumped into me in the bar- I-”

“You encountered our unsub without realising it.” Reid finished. Wordlessly, Hotch grasped your upper arm carefully and pulled you away from the scene, the young doctor following. Your eyes couldn’t leave Carla’s lifeless form, not until the broad form of Hotch blocked your way.

“(L/n). You are to stay with Reid, I’m calling the others and we are returning to the station immediately, are we clear?” His voice was gentle, but tinged with urgency as his dark brown eyes searched your face. You nodded numbly. He swallowed and gazed over your shoulder at the young man. “Reid, stay with her. We need to make a move, quickly.”

You felt the world spiralling around you, your feet not quite grounded, not the air upon your skin or the fabric on your skin. The unsub knew about you and now… Now he was toying with you.

Interrogation room chairs were never comfortable, but now the posture it forced you into was causing a dull ache in your back. It was decided you would try to talk it through, find out if you could remember whoever it was that had bumped into you that day. Your mind couldn’t stop replaying the crime scene. Carla’s body, the badge extraction… You didn’t feel on Earth right now.

The door behind you opened and you flinched violently, your chair squeaking on the shiny floor.

“Hey, it's okay. Just Reid and I.” You heard Derek’s voice. You cleared your throat as the two rounded the table to sit opposite you. This wasn’t a position you ever expected to be in. Your fingers picked at the hem of your shirt. There was silence for a moment as the two figures studied you.

“(Y/n), we don’t need to do this now.” Reid said cautiously. Your eyes finally lifted from where they had been staring at the table.

“We do. Carla was alive up until seven hours ago.” You abruptly responded then drew in a sharp sniff. Derek leaned forward in his chair.

“You better not be blaming yourself right now, sweets.”

“By being part of this investigation I’ve directly caused a woman to be murdered.” You scoffed. “Didn’t even fucking notice the bastard when he was there that day.”

Reid knitted his fingers together and laid them on the table, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he thought about what he wanted to say.

“Neither yourself or Morgan did, though. Our unsub is trying to get into your head right now, you know this.”

Swallowing thickly, you curled in on yourself in the chair.

“I wish I’d just lost my badge just because I’m a fucking idiot. Instead, I lost it because I was too stupid to consider that I would attract the unsub’s attention.” You said bitterly.

Derek frowned.

“You’re not stupid or an idiot. This is all on the unsub, not you.”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh.

“Oh I am the biggest fucking idiot here, Morgan. And now Carla is dead.”

Another beat of silence, followed by a saddened sigh hung in the air.

“Alright… Let’s just try and help you think back to that day, see if you remember any faces at all.” Reid said after a moment in a slightly croaky voice.

Your eyes drifted shut. You had to remember for Carla, for all of them.

However, the next hour was aggravating and ultimately fruitless, much to your dismay. Why… Why couldn’t you remember? This was unfair, you felt ashamed. You didn’t know who had decided to call off the interrogation, only remarking on Emily and JJ coming to your side and leading you to an empty office so you could have some space for yourself. You ignored their expressions of concern when you declined their offer for a drink and instead settled onto the rather uncomfortable couch that was placed by the far wall. You hadn’t seen Hotch since returning to the station, not that you were in the right frame of mind to do so now. At this point you felt hollow, unconsolable. You had been dragged into this mess and now there was a young woman dead because of you. Your head was hanging low, staring at the carpeted floor of the office as you wondered what you could possibly do now.

It was only when you heard distant, distressed voices from outside the office that you raised your head and glanced out of the window to the rest of the precinct. Two figures, a man and a woman who both appeared to be in their mid to late fifties, were rapidly storming to your location after spotting you through the glass. But by the time you realised who they were it was too late, the man barging through the door and the both of them rushed inside.

“You!” The man shouted, pointing at you. This was the Reynolds, Carla’s parents. There was no other possibility.

You shot up from where you sat and held your hands open in surrender.

“Sir, I-”

“You’re the one from that picture!” The man was toe-to-toe with you, tears streaming down his red cheeks. His wife let out a sob as your eyes flicked between the two figures.

“Sir, please allow me to-”

Blinded by grief and anger, Mr Reynolds grasped the front of your shirt and pulled you towards him, shaking you slightly.

“Don’t fucking talk, you got our daughter killed!”

The wife stared at you, her eyes were filled with utter rage and heartbreak. Your chest felt tight.

“Why… Why did that bastard have your photo?” She spoke, her voice was thick with tears. Your heart rate quickened. “Why did you have to talk to our Carla?!”

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t speak. The room was becoming fuzzy. Suddenly, there were multiple people in the room ripping the father’s hands off you and pulling the couple away as they fought with them.

“It’s your fault our daughter is dead! You got our daughter fucking killed!” the father’s screech was fading in and out as the pulsing of your blood filled your ears. You were completely trapped in your mind, staring at the hatred in their eyes.

“Get them out of here!” One voice cut through the paralysis. Aaron Hotchner. You blinked, then stumbled backwards. Hands reached for you and you flailed.

“D–don’t touch me!” You stuttered, struggling with whoever was grabbing you.

“Hey, it's okay! It’s us!” You heard Emily call out to you, but it was too much. Your mind was fractured, too chaotic and overstimulated. The room was too busy. You choked out a whimper and pulled away.

“Alright, everyone out. And find out who let them in here and why.” Hotch snapped, his voice a beacon and grounding you a little. It was neither sharp, nor grating and as the crowd filtered out of the room you collapsed to your knees and your hands came to hide your face. The following silence throbbed in your ears, a roar which threatened to swallow you whole.

“Agent (L/n).”

You didn’t move.

“Why do you call me that?” You finally whispered. Hotch knelt down to sit opposite you, keeping a safe distance to not overwhelm you.

“I’m sorry, it’s a force of habit. I-”

“-I’m hardly much of an agent, sir.” You cut him off, missing the surprise that arose on his face.

“I’m sorry? I don’t understand what you mean.”

You wet your lip as your hands dropped from your face.

“Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”

Dissatisfied, Hotch frowned and leaned forward slightly.

“No, tell me what you mean.” He demanded. You just couldn’t though.

“It really doesn’t matter, sir. Forget it.” You pushed up from the ground and smoothed out your clothes, although at this point you no longer cared for your appearance. “We should go, there’s no point sitting around.”

Without waiting for him to stand up or speak, you exited the room and through dull eyes you spotted the couple being ushered into a separate room. You were thankful they didn’t spot you, you supposed.

“(Y/n), what they said to you…” JJ trailed off when you returned to the group, noting the defeated slump of your shoulders.

“Don’t. I really don’t want to hear it.” You muttered.

Derek folded his arms and huffed slightly.

“They’re wrong. The only one to blame is the unsub.”

You had nothing more to say though, instead drifting your attention to the new photos on the board. You swallowed and glanced away from the photos of Carla from when she was alive. Bile bubbled in your stomach when you realised pictures of your FBI badge were on there too. It shouldn’t have turned out this way. Upon the board was a map of the area with pins showcasing the locations the victims were last seen and where their bodies showed up. It appeared random, or atleast at first it did. The butcher’s shop remained in the centre of it all, a street with many businesses including a grocer’s, a handiwork business, a pet groomer. But investigating this area had already brought nothing of note to the case. You sighed quietly and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Maybe they work one or more part time jobs.” You finally suggested aloud.

“What?” Rossi joined you at the board. You shrugged.

“Well, it’s just an idea. But wasn’t there a handiwork van parked out front of the butcher’s shop we visited the other day?” You turned to him, your brows furrowing. “Same company branding as the handiwork shop on the same street.”

“There was, yes. I originally chalked it up to there being no space for the van to park that day. But perhaps it’s worth looking into.”

“We should check back at the butcher’s and visit the handiwork business as well.” Hotch said from behind you. You hummed and made a move to grab your jacket, only to have his hand take hold of your wrist gently. “I think you should stay back here.”

“But-” You wanted to protest, but the look in his eye silenced you.

“Please, just stay here for the rest of the day.”

Fuck it, you pulled your arm from his grip and settled down in one of the chairs.

“Fine.”

Through tired eyes you watched everyone besides Hotch and Rossi gather their jackets and rush out, leaving you with the eldest members of the team. It was nothing short of humiliating in your mind. But you had reached a point where you had no more fight left in you to argue.

The handiwork shop wasn’t open, you later found out. The butcher’s shop had two different workers in than when you were there last, neither fitted the profile, however. Some vital information had been found though, an employee who worked part time as a butcher in the back of the shop and a travelling handyman. Derek had called Penelope to find an address for the man; James Humphrey, and aside from you and Reid the team had stormed his unassuming home with the swat team. He wasn’t there, nor was there anything out of the ordinary there either. And now… Well, you were walking back to the hotel room finally.

You were just tired, not for sleep, just tired. Hotch didn’t try to force conversation with you, knowing you needed some quiet to process the events of the day. Upon opening the door you were faced with the frantic disarray of your clothes and unattended sheets, the memory of the morning feeling so distant now.

You settled down on the mattress, avoiding your discarded clothes for you were not quite feeling ready to move them just yet. Behind you, Hotch toed his shoes off and discarded his jacket on the chair before running his hands through his short hair, creating a “hedgehog effect”. He gazed over at you helplessly, his face slightly contorted in concern.

“(Y/n), would you like to take a shower first?” He offered gently, you craned your neck to glance at him and smiled weakly.

“It’s okay. You go first, sir.”

“You sure?”

You nodded and cleared your throat.

“Yeah. Thank you though.”

There was no movement at first, then you heard the rustling of Hotch moving behind you, then the door to the shower room clicking shut. You waited. The lock clicked, but you waited still. Only when there was the sound of the shower switching on did you cautiously rise to your feet, making sure the mattress didn’t creak. You checked your holster; gun still there. You eyed the closed shower room door. The sound of the water was different, telling of Hotch standing under the spray. Carefully, you made your way to the hotel room door, slipping the car keys from Hotch’s neatly discarded jacket and, with your room key, you let yourself out and locked it quietly behind you. The corridor was empty, hopefully the others wouldn’t catch you right now. Every step out of the hotel filled your stomach with anxiety, but you needed to move quickly before your hotel roommate would finish his shower.

When you were finally behind the wheel of the car you had previously travelled back to the hotel in a mere 10 minutes earlier, you exhaled and started the engine. You knew what you had to do now.

From bar-to-bar, you checked without any luck. By the time you decided to check your phone, standing in a crowded and noisy club, you panicked at the sight of 20+ messages and 12 voicemails and even more missed calls. At that point, the phone buzzed again. Hotchner’s name flashed on screen. You swallowed thickly and pressed it to your ear after swiping to answer, feeling a sense of deja vu from that same morning.

“S-sir.”

“Where the hell are you?!” He hissed frantically down the line. You grimaced and cleared your throat.

“I… I needed to clear my head.”

“Sounds extremely noisy wherever you are to be doing that. So I will ask you again, (L/n), Where are you?”

Before you could answer you felt something pointed press into your back, not enough to pierce through the fabric of your shirt, but enough to make itself known.

“I…”

“Careful now, agent (L/n). Choose your next words carefully.” An unfamiliar male voice sneered behind you. You felt nauseous as you reached for your gun. He chuckled when your hands brushed against the now empty holster. “Whoops.”

“I… I have to go.” You said, then ended the call and pocketed the device. There was a chuckle behind you.

“I suggest we go outside, don’t you think?” The unfamiliar voice said. The blade pressed in deeper, this time touching your skin. You swallowed.

“Fine.”

This really couldn’t be happening, surely not. But as you stepped outside again into the cool air of the night you felt the knife press into you still when you tried to stop walking.

“Turn left and keep going until we get to the end of the street.” The man said. You followed his instruction, forcing yourself to relax. As you turned down the street he had instructed you to do so you noted it was dimly lit. Fucking fantastic.

“Alright, now stop.” The man commanded you. You stood still. Your eyes widened as you realised what vehicle you had stopped beside. The handiwork business logo mocked you on the side of the van you’d seen days prior. “Mmhm, you’re very receptive to commands, good piggy.”

You wanted to turn around, but as you made the move to step and face the man he grabbed you roughly, and you felt a sharp sting in your neck. A needle. Your eyes widened and you struggled, attempting to open your mouth to scream but he had already covered your mouth with his palm to silence you. He was strong, very strong. The prickle of whatever he had injected into you spread through your body and the world around you started to blur. And then, you were lost to the world.

Dun dun dunnnnn omg I wonder what will happen next?? (Not good) thanks so much for reaching the end!! If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

[a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten]

Undertale Yellow Car Headcanons 2

People liked the first one, so I figured I'd go do a few more to cover some folks I missed and add some extras for ones I already covered. Kudos to a friend on Discord who's a massive car nut and suggested quite a few of these. First one in case you haven't seen it. This one's a bit chonkier, so grab a snack or something.

Martlet: Electric Bike

Even if Martlet getting her hands on a driver's license is nigh impossible, we figured she should at least have something, even if she doesn't use it that much. Electric bikes seem to fit her style. Dunno if she'd use it often, but if the surface has no-fly laws or whatever, it'd probably help her out some.

Toriel: 2CV

...okay, Tori isn't really a UTY-exclusive character, but she has a minor role in the game, so does she count? Anyway, my friend had the idea of her using what they described as 'everybody's favorite little wine snail' and I think it fits her too well.

Chujin: Loud Ass 90s Tuner Car

If Chujin didn't inject raw Mountain Dew Voltage into his soul and survived to see the surface, he'd probably drive something like this. It ties in with the whole Ben 10 thing and it's a great way to express himself, as obnoxious as it may be. Usually, Ceroba makes him drive the family sedan.

Ceroba: If She Owned the Hummer (Semi-Joke one)

I meant for it as a shitpost, but we thought up an idea if she actually did own the car. Don't worry, she always looks before merging. Anyway, we figured she got it mainly because it's pretty cool. However, it is a massive waste of gas money, so she only uses it for camping or driving Kanako and Clover around on their birthdays. Otherwise, it mainly collects dust in her garage while she uses the more fuel-efficient sedan.

El Bailador: Lowrider

Kudos to @cheddarchandelure for suggesting this and it couldn't fit any better. Lowriders fit him like a glove. You know he just has this thing modded like crazy. It's nearly 20 feet of car, too. You don't get much more expressive than that.

Feisty Five: GMC Vandura

I gave the Feisty Five individual vehicles, but they also kinda need a car for the whole gang and what better vehicle for a group of crime fighting dinguses. Perfect for missions, lassons, or just hanging out as a group together. Starlo technically owns it, but usually Moray or Ace drive the thing.

Ace: Antique Mercedes

Okay, I know I technically already did Ace in the first part, but my friend suggested an Antique Mercedes, which I think fits a lot better than the Porche. I'll let you guys draw your own conclusions, tho.

Moray: SLK Roadster

Still a convertible, but I didn't like the image I used in the last one. So now we got a specific model for our favorite fish with no gender.

Mooch: Pretty Much Anything, but here's a Corolla

On the chance that Mooch somehow gets her license back, she'd be willing to drive whatever. Hopefully more responsibly this time around.

Dina: 5th Gen Mustang

My friend suggested that a classier style of muscle car would fit better than the more aggressive model I used in the first, and I think it suits her more laid-back nature well.

Blackjack: Antique Flatbed

It's been in his family for generations, and he's way too attached to the thing to get rid of it. Generally, he just fixes up anything that breaks down on him.

Starlo's Family: Uh...Trucks

The main workhorses for the Sunnyside Farm. Sure, they got a few dents and aren't the cleanest or most advanced, but hey, they get the job done. Mainly driven by Solomon and Orion, occasionally Starlo. The Cabover (bottom) is generally used for the big harvests and the pickup works for everything else.

Mo: C4 Corvette

The perfect car for a sleazy businessman! Well, not sleazy, but you get what I mean. He likes to act stylish with his choice of car, but his is constantly breaking down mechanically, since he doesn't really bother fixing the thing, just detailing it. Doesn't leave the best impressions for shoppers.

Honeydew Shopkeeper: Figaro

Why? Well, simple, it's small and cute, just like she is! Not much else to say beyond that.

Kanako: '70 Dodge Challenger

Kanako's still a bit too young to drive, but we settled on this for a dream car of hers, with both a road and track package. She got the idea from both the racing games she plays and Dina's own muscle car. Nobody understands why, But she really wants to visit San Francisco with it

Clover: Ford Galaxie Convertible

Figured we should do Clover's dream car as well. Not much a reasoning, we thought this just fit their style. Once they come of age, you know darn well they'll be racing Kanako.

Warned ya that would be a big one! Anyway, lemme know what y'all think!

[weaselle]

dogs

i just want to brag a little actually.

i quit a 20 year career in restaurants to work with dogs as a dog walker, and i’m pretty damn good at it.

First of all, any dog walker who is doing their job right is also a dog trainer. You’re training the dogs that when they walk with you, they cannot pull on the leash, they aren’t allowed to go off noisily on bike riders or other dogs, they have to stay in the van with the side door open until they are invited out one by one to keep them from jumping out where there might be cars until i have a leash on them... i spend basically all day training dogs, or at least re-enforcing the training i’ve already done (but like, a dog that barks and charges other dogs passing by can be like, a six month project, so).

Anyway, i find there are some important little things about the job. For instance, greetings! Greetings are important

So i walk up to ten dogs at once, three walks a day, but at every dog pick up, I do a special greeting with each dog. All the dogs and I work out our own greetings. One I sniff noses with while i give him scritches. Another sits and puts one paw out for me to hold while she sniffs my ear and chin. There’s a little jack russell terrier who screams at me while she tries to climb up onto my shoulders and lick my ears.

Dogs can lick my face within reason, but i set my boundaries firmly at no licking my mouth. And many dogs appreciate being allowed to do more doggish greetings like sniff noses. One dog i walk is half Chow, half German Shepherd, which is ... a mix to keep an eye on. I do not sniff noses with him, because he gets irritated easy, and if he doesn’t like something, he’ll snap at it, and the same snap that would painfully but harmlessly startle another dog might need a lot of stitches if it was my face. He’s a sweetheart tho, he and i really like and respect each other, but you gotta know the dog you’re working with and part of that respect is me not putting my face all up in his face.

Instead, his greeting with me is he stands stoically while i squat next to him and pet his ears and shoulders, then i massage some of the tension out of the thick muscles on either side of his spine, which he sits down for. It almost seems like he’s ignoring me and I used to wonder if he was just humoring me, but then i tried skipping our greeting a couple times and he just wouldn’t move until we did it, which low-key broke my heart in a happy sort of way

The point is, these greetings are important, it sets the tone for the rest of the walk and maintains a strong positive relationship, which is especially important for those days you wind up correcting that dog’s behavior a lot.

Speaking of which, in a pack of 6-10 dogs in public, it is easy to be doing a lot of “stop doing things wrong” interactions, so I make sure to look for positive interactions too. I will sometimes ask a dog i’ve been correcting more than usual to sit, just so that i can tell them they are a good dog for sitting and offer them a little success. Sometimes with new dogs i’ll be correcting them so much i’ll even give them big verbal rewards for peeing or pooping, because after all it is outside where they are supposed to do that, and if i’ve been telling them “no, wrong” for the last 20 minutes we are both getting desperate for a chance at “yes, good”. And when you’re dealing with all that it’s easy to ignore dogs that are doing everything right, so i make sure to tell each dog they’re doing good at least once every walk

I even have one dog, an australian shepherd, who only walks where she’s supposed to without pulling ahead if i notice her doing it right and tell her she’s a good dog a couple times early in the walk; if i don’t remember to, she refuses to walk correctly and spends the rest of the walk pulling

so part of why the greeting is important is because it balances out how much behavior correction i may wind up doing. Every walk, no matter how much they misbehave, or how much my focus is needed elsewhere, we start each day together with “it’s so good to see you, i’m happy i get to spend time with you” and them as the center of my attention, and i think that makes a big difference in the relationship with the dogs

[yippeeometer]

OH MY GOD OK SO THE FOUR CORNEES

I love these idiots

Utah is small, sure, but look at the damn muscles on that short stack of books, but he could pick up Alaska if he really tried

Coco is a BIG GUY, he’s not the tallest but he is the oldest of the group and occasionally takes up the role of “you fuck with them I will crush your skull but keep your brain intact so you can feel the pain.” But New Mexico usually be doing that.

New Mexico makes some bomb ass food and Coco loves it but he ain’t NEVER gonna admit that NM’s chili is better and his

New Mexico and Ari are their own band istg, those two love love music so much, they be playing in the garage their entire day off from any work and it drives Utah MAD because he’s trying to listen to his lo-fi and write but the boys downstairs are going at it on the drums

Arizona also loves painting, he n Coco have painted most if not all of the walls in the house

Also also, baby fever Utah? That man wants to have children so badddd but as a state he’s too busy to have one himself

Illithya is there tho, that wonderful lesbian is there for him

first off utah is a FATHER there’s no way that man doesn’t have the strength to crush a car w one hand. u think you have 6 children and don’t have muscle on u THINK again

i’m sorry my liege i can’t agree w this coco has the capacity to crush a skull propaganda. this is the type of guy to stand awkwardly as ari goes completely feral on a dude quietly singing the beach boys. he’s making comments like ‘oh i bet he’s learnt his lesson’ despite havingbplayed no rule but hindrance in a fight. he sucks i love him

neme’s food is seasoned with rage i believe that. you can’t come in the kitchen whilst he cooks bc he needs time to think about all the ways he’s been wronged whilst he slices his onions. they go through cutting boards at an alarming rate bc neme thinks ab how he was introduced as ‘mew nexico’ once and now everyone’s copy pasting cat ears onto his professional business photos.

ari is carnage and that’s the truth. his band skills are fully based on adhd and i believe that. he and new have to have hourly breaks from practice however bc they’re too dramatic for showbiz. they put on talent shows for the other two which ends frequently with a screaming match bc they want constructive criticism- which utah can’t give bc he’s too nice, and coco can’t give bc he already forgot what the song was like.

utah would want a baby however he forgets that would be a crime under some convention. hello my sweet child. oh you’re wondering why you’re birth name is green-chile-is-better-in-rado. you see, it was that or a divorce.

[chocotonez]

enhypen summer dates pt2: bonfires

a/n: burnt marshmallows > browned marshmallows

summary: enhypen + you on a bonfire date

cw/genre: Mild cursing, fluff, fire, food, English is not my first language and lmk if anything else should be tagged!

link to 1k June special!! -> (^_−)−☆

heesung

-idk why I can never see him going outside but it takes a lot of convincing for him to go to a bonfire especially late at night

-holds your hands by the fire pit, pointing out shapes in the flames, humming softly

-you probably have to yell at him to get off his phone so he can enjoy the outdoors

-can get bored kinda easily but as long as he’s with you he doesn’t care that much

-he’s willing to walk through seven feet of mud if he’s holding your hand

-gets stressed if the fire gets too big because he thinks one of you is gonna get burnt ;;

-sings really softly but don’t fall asleep pls he wants to go inside and cuddle on a mattress

jay

-dawg is grilling!!

-one time at a bonfire my friend was making sandwiches like it was a production line so that’s pretty much Jay grilling over the fire

-makes sure you are well fed and comfy!!

-makes bomb ass s’mores as well, brings extra blankets, he wants to see you all comfy and cozy during your little excursion

-covers your eyes so you don’t get smoke in them

-lays your head on his lap so he can play with your hair, and gladly carries you back to the car if you fall asleep (if he didn’t fall asleep by the cozy fire himself)

-likes to take care of you while you’re enjoying the bonfire, loves staring at you illuminated by the flames, loves being with you <3

-def not a common date but still, if it’s with you it’s fun!

jake

-tells scary stories but might just end up scaring himself

-I have a feeling he’s not very good at roasting marshmallows but it’s ok!! the fact that the marshmallow he toasted for you is scorched and bubbling adds texture and character!!

-tries to impress you by throwing a bunch of tinder into the fire and flexing his muscles while he carries a bunch of sticks

-gets really worried if you get too hot or there is smoke in your eyes :( immediately asks if you want to go home because he just wants you to have fun!!

-he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable ever <3 especially not during a date

-probably rambles to you about any sort of things on his mind, whether it be interesting mathematical formulas or scientific theories or his favorite episode of a new show he was watching

sunghoon

-“babe watch me throw this *random object* into the fire” “sunghoon what the FUCK?!”

-having tons of fun

-probably scares away any wildlife nearby without how much he laughs and he’s always pinching your cheeks while feeding you toasted snacks

-tells you scary stories but acts them out too!! mainly so you don’t get too scared

-pretends he’s a fire-bender and you get slightly worried for his health because he is messing around so closely to the flames but he reassures you that he’s a fire-bender

-“flames do not burn a dragon!!” “Do you need some neosporin?” “ya :(“

-karaoke with you

-really loves bonfires with you, even though you’re just outside

sunoo

-there for the view which includes you + fireworks + and nice sunset!

-is kinda sassy tho, gets all whiny if he gets smoke in his eyes

-brings a ton of blankets so you guys are all nice and toasty and you can cuddle even tho there’s a fire and you end up sweating but it’s ok if it’s with him <3

-he talks a lot, about his day, about your day, where he wants to go tomorrow, his favorite stars…

-makes you toast all the food over the fire because he’s too comfortable wrapped in his blankets on his chair to move

-def not his fave date but he doesn’t mind because he gets a ton of cute photos with you

-he’s down for any sorta date but he doesn’t want to get dirt on his pants and smoke in his hair!!

jungwon

-quiet, just enjoys the fire with you by his side

-feeds you s’mores or toasties

-both of you probably end up taking a nap and wake up to a dying flame and bright stars staring down at you <3

-he doesn’t really have any sort of noticeable attitude towards bonfires, like cool…ur outside….I guess

-but he’s really focused on your comfort, so he brings fans, blankets, extra water, fans smoke away from your eyes and emergency burn treatment

-holds your hand the entire night, looks up at the stars in awe but they look even brighter in his eyes

-probably ends up burning his hand and getting really embarrassing when you fuss over him tho

niki

-will randomly pop out at you after telling a scary story before hugging you and giggling

-plays with sparklers and you worry there’s going to be more fires than necessary before the end of the night

-hides his face in your arm if too much smoke gets in his eyes

-“I can make s’mores better than you y/n” and ends up melting a marshmallow <3 that’s ok tho you let him win the s’mores competition

-makes up new constellations with you and gives them stupid backstories, the Big Dipper becoming a soup ladle

-tires himself out from playing around too much and probably falls asleep on your shoulder

-he likes bonfires w you :) it’s so cozy but honestly he could do anything with you and he would still love it

•••

taglist: @chansburgah

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Compiling some Peppino-centric hcs i have bc i would like to have something to look back on as a point of reference 😌 (this is so long. SO fucking long. Im sorry)

- starting w the basics: hes a short king; 5’2 (157cm). Hes like late 40s-early 50s to me. Hes got brown eyes i never draw bc i like drawing him w dots lol. Hes particular about his appearance and grooms very consistently. Has literally no issues w balding (exposed to balding bears in his youth; thinks they are hot now 😌) and it helps that he can literally cave someones skull in if they speak ill of him. He does have a couple of comfy hats incase his hair decides to be unruly in bad weather.

- very bulky build; think of olympic strongmen/ highland games but short. Visibly muscular arms and broad shoulder, fat chest and stomach, smoother legs (fat layered over muscle; v thick thighs and calves). Hes got surgery scars on his lower back from a bullet wound (only entry/no exit point). Debated giving him a scar around his sternum from heart surgery or some other crazy injury he had but im not sure yet; the bullet extraction scar is definitely staying tho.

-does NOT work out; he used to wrestle in his late teens/early 20s but otherwise he was (still is) a man who did lots of physical labor around his childhood home and grandparents shop. Continued the cycle when he got his own home and his own restaurant; cheaper to do his own (extensive) repairs than call for specialists/contractors when u are Fucking Poor.

- he DOES exercise; he is fond of jogging. He does this alot postgame, usually in the early mornings before he opens, and at the beach on his days off. He had it drilled in v early in his life that he Needs to stay active, so he will roll out of bed and do this almost daily. On his days off he will have random people come and join him; usually pepperman or noisette. Its too tedious/boring of a task for gus and noise, and vigi is out cold until sunrise at minimum.

- he owns a HOUSE; he does not rent an apartment. This is bc i think it would be reasonable to assume that anyone who OWNS a restaurant was at some point, well off enough to own a house instead of renting. And i like the idea of him using this house as collateral; if the shop goes under, so does his home (more stress for him…). (Ive seen other people treat his shop like a duplex ie shop on the lobby level and an apartment/living space on the second floor. This is ALSO v good and coincides w my want to have his home tied to his restaurant)

- the house is small; two bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, and a basement (where the 1/2 bath is located). BIG kitchen, small livingroom. It is surprisingly well furnished bc of his family donating things to him when he bought the house in his 30s. Lots of older wood based furniture. Hes not grossly messy (like food, bugs, etc) but he is disorganized beyond belief. Lives an ‘organized mess’ lifestyle bc of his high stress. Also extremely apathetic to his living conditions until postgame when his restaurant starts to take in profits again; less stress -> more positive time at home -> aware of the clutter as he spends more time at home.

- drives a beat up lookin car to and from work. Its his BABY; his ol reliable. He has to do lots of work to keep her intact and functioning. Eventually gets a newer car with his profits, but its rlly to help ease the strain on her so that he can take her out for drives occasionally.

-eldest of like 6 siblings; will not try to name them all just know that hes the only boy. Eldest daughter is only a year younger than him. Good relationship w all of them and his immediate family. Very matriarchal immediate family. Only a handful of uncles, his dad, and his grandpappy. Stubbornly cut off contact w everyone after the horrors (war) and refused to accept help w his failing restaurant (prideful). Eventually his (eldest) sister reaches out and he makes amends one at a time. (Gets an earful from his momma)

- works LONG hours. Awake by 4am, in noisettes cafe by 5am, in the shop by 6am. Preps and calls until opening at 9am. Closes at 9pm. Closes up FOR REAL at 10pm. Rinse n repeat. As the shop does better financially, he starts opening later and closing earlier (at the insistence of Gus). He still does his walks and his morning routine, just a little later, and he has enough time at home in the evening to cook for himself.

- on the topic of cooking, he is a good chef all around; pizza is just easier to market and consistently do Correct. Likes food alot. So much…..he isnt picky but he does go 😬 when eating something. Bad. And it happens Often.

- stress baked often. He felt bad about throwing out his food afterwards so he would give it away to his neighbors. No longer stress bakes but he will cook out of boredom which is not as bad but still not the best 😭 luckily he has so many freeloaders that will eat anything he makes (gus and noise)

- this is his second shop; the first one was in a larger city (think similar to pig city). Closed down due to insufficient payments, but reopened on the outskirts of the city (close to the forest) after putting up his house as collateral.

-first shop is where he first meets pizzahead. Hes offered a generous sum of cash to sell the business (which would then be converted into a ph brand shop). Obv declined. Later offered a position in pizzaheads business instead; nearly killed the man when scaring him out of his shop.

- Peppino is NOT some aggressive out of control beast (despite what pizzahead believes). He is vaguely neurotic and it is exacerbated by extreme stress and bouts of anxiety. So funny how removing the extreme stress and sources of anxiety makes him more Normal. (Somewhat encouraged by an official image i saw after i made this hc of peppinos attitude outside and inside the tower. He is relatively apathetic and inside the tower he is borderline manic. More hcs about that too)

- he is relatively fun to be with otherwise. He has some extremely dry humor. Hes incredibly sarcastic. He LIKES customer service…otherwise this would be impossible for him to endure. It helps that he Owns a shop, instead of only being a worker; he can yell at people who are rude and annoying to him and he knows (at least postgame) that he has loyal regulars.

- he is a bit of an asshole; he make snide remarks he shouldnt and hes been in his own fair share of fights bc of it. Has mellowed out drastically as he got a better grip on his emotions postgame. Only the most tolerant could really deal w him prior to postgame (gus) in part due to his anger (response to exacerbated neurosis and ptsd)

- also autistic. Extra stress bc of this. Easily overstimulated and the response to this is anger. Completely undiagnosed lmao but hes like late 40s; he just learned how to deal with it.

-common stress responses: bites on anything, usually his hand (Tried stopping this bc people would TOUCH him if he did that in front of others and that just made shit worse). Grinds his teeth. Jaw clenching. Making A Fist So Tight You Accidentally Cut Urself. Flappy hands, usually w hands balled up into a fist (specifically eyes closed; jaw clenched; head ducked, flappy hands over his ducked head). It looks ‘worse’ than biting but at least the excessive movement deters people from touching him.

- on a more positive note; knows quite a bit of magic tricks. Sleight of hand stuff is his forte. It is good for the anxiety and it keeps his hands busy. He is will consistently say that he is not good w kids but he loves entertaining them; they say the funniest shit and he likes being a bad influence on them 😈. Also teaching them tricks and letting them see behind the curtain is so fun for him; like they are so excited about silly tricks and it makes him feel a little cool….

- he is the kind of person whos like (dad voice) ‘not gettin a damn cat in my house’ and then has blackmail of him passed the fuck out with a cat on his stomach. He feeds the local strays by his shop and he cant help but feed the strays that end up by his house. He doesnt feel confident enough to take care of another animal when its so hard for him to remember to take care of himself so for now he just feeds them. But maybe soon he will take them inside…he also baby talks cats but if u caught him doing that he would kill u i think. (Pov u are the noise)

- silly hc that he has a real last name but he keeps it as spaghetti bc its funny to fuck around w people who ask him. No i dont know what his last name would be but i think it would be funny to have him ‘change’ it for branding and have people believe it. Also i think its funny to think of peppino saying this to ph somehow and he completely runs with it as gospel. Like ‘granny did u KNOW his last name is fucking spaghetti??’

- wrt young peppino, i say that w him being 20-23 in mind. Worked in his grandparents shop during this time. Worked as a line cook for some other restaurants as well (and saved up money to buy his own home while he lived w his parents and sisters). He was generally a sweetheart, just a bit odd (the Autsim and Anxiety), but that was (and still is) his charm point lol

- (SUGGESTIVE) cannot stop thinking of him as a little otter that hung out w older bears in the leather scene. He prob had his best years w them before he had to focus on other shit. He still keeps in contact w some of the peeps that were around his age postgame, and they meet up sometimes to hang along w vigilante. Now that hes older it is a bit surreal to now be the bear he used to look up to in his younger years. But its a bit flattering. Noise and Pepperman are younger than him and they both regard him w the same kind of wonder he used to give older bears. He thinks its cute lol (pepperman bc thats his muse and he sees his body type as PEAK human form, and noise bc i hc him as a bit sheltered despite the fame)

- (STILL SUGGESTIVE BUT THATS IT I SWEAR) adjacent to this; its weird for him to come back to this side of him bc hes been living in survival mode for over a decade. Got his house in his early 30s -> WAR -> comes back traumatized -> leaves family to cope -> dumps money into a restaurant to cope w leaving family. So he kinda missed it alot. Its fun to explore it w gus heehee and sometimes noise when he behaves.

-other things i wanted to mention but didnt know where to fit it. Peppino is a decent artist; he drew the logo for his shop and in general he is good at caricatures (another thing he can do to entertain a crowd; helps w anxiety to know how to not be awkward).

- Peppino is a bit of a mechanic (aka he learned bc he was broke and didnt want to call them for minor problems). Hes not a tinkerer but he likes the joy of creating sm and will make little. Creations. every once in a while. One of these creations is Peshino! He is a wooden windup toy made as a prototype for a more mechanical, mass produced version. He was intended to be sold as a cute little toy to help cement the branding for Peppinos shop but he never got the time or money for it, so peshino is collecting a bit of dust in his basement. Postgame, he takes peshino out and cleans him up; he feels a bit guilty about him….and the Big Peshino found in the tower plays music in Peppinos shop :) He also takes the time to clean him up and keep him functional.

Okay i think thats all i got for now byebye

[winderlylandchime]

Make sure you read the other message before this one. It was a bitch to shorten this for the ask limit but oh well :)

Here is the shortened version of his dating life during summer. It all started when a friends gf looked at my brother and went “I have some friends to set you up with that I think you’d like” He went on a date to a bar to meet up with her “lovely and very cute friend Alexis”. He gets there and then (his exact words) “I hear my name, look up and there’s a dude. Big dude. Muscles and hair and everything. And he starts going on about how he heard so much about me. Took me 5 minutes to realize that he’s Alexis. Dude caught on that I thought he was a woman but it’s cool. We had drinks, It was a fun night so at least I made a friend” I thought that was funny/cute bc he really does love making friends. So he forgot to mention the dude part of the issue to the girl when he told her it didn’t work, so she obviously set him up with another guy. He was somehow still shocked even tho he forgot to tell her, the guy realized it like 20 minutes in, didn’t want to make it uncomfortable so he goes to leave and my brother being an “ALLY” (yes, he did that to his face) suggested they hang as friends. Third time HE STILL FORGETS TO MENTION IT, so she sets him up with her really good friend Nick. So he knows it’s a man but he didn’t want to be rude since shes going all out for him, so he went on the date and plans to tell the guy about the mix up but when he got there (this is a real fucking voice note he sent me at 1 am that day) “I forgot! I had a speech cause I didn’t wanna be a dick but I saw him and I just forgot what the fuck I was gonna say. Bro it took me 3 tries to tell him my name, idk what the fuck happened, I think its some type of a stroke that only lasts like a minute” So they went to a bar and somehow during drinks (his plan was a drink & come clean but he got “distracted”) he agreed to go bowling. Yes, he agreed to a 2nd date bc he was distracted. A week later HE asked Nick if he wanted to go hiking. This whole time they are texting nonstop btw. They went hiking in the morning, spent half a day together, the guy made them lunch. Do you see where this is going because my brother somehow did not. A week later my friend whos a bartender saw them at her job and she said that my brother was being shown how to play pool by some guy. As in the guy was wrapped around his body showing him how to do it. I really hope you know what I mean by this! And my brother was apparently all blushy and kept missing shots. Oh btw, my brother? REALLY fucking good at pool. He’s on a team at his local bar with his friends. So he played dumb, for sure! 2 days later at family bbq, he walks in goes to my uncles and says “yo dudes, respectfully asking but how the fuck did you know you wanted to fuck each other? Because I’m about to either do the worlds dumbest thing in my whole life OR the coolest thing ever and I would like to know if I’m just gonna have fun in the middle part of it or the after too?” he explained the whole thing and everyone went “dude, hate to tell you but you’ve been dating him for like 2 weeks” He tried to argue it with “no, I just..He just..I get distracted when he talks bc he keeps smiling and laughing at my jokes and i think my stutter comes back cause i cant form a sentence (he has never stuttered in his life) so I keep forgetting to tell him” two days later, he walks into the house and goes “yo dad, I fixed your car oh and btw gang? Ya boy? Not straight, i was wrong but don’t ask me anything more cause honestly? I don’t fucking know, I’m winging this bitch” Anyway, this was late June, they’ve been dating ever since. Sweet Nick genuinely thought my brother was shy (lol) and that’s why he didn’t kiss Nick while on the hike, so he was waiting for my brother to relax (lol). Meanwhile my brother was having a crisis without the crisis bc he genuinely up until the pool date thought, they were just hanging out and that he was just feeling (his words) ‘the feelings of a cool bromance’ whenever he went all blushy, giggly and dumb over him.

IF YOU HAVE NOT YET READ THE PREVIOUS UPDATES GO DO SO NOW. As brother anon would say "don't be a little bitch." You have not earned this update if you haven't read the others.

I AM FUCKING SCREAMING DEAR SWEET ANON!!! This is straight (heh heh) out of a fanfiction. What life is your brother leading?

Like bro, bro, bro. You are an ALLY (makes fist) and hang out with drag queens and love queer culture (like a 20 year old TV show)... I think the dots were all there to be connected and Nick came along and genuinely thought he was dating your brother and your brother just caught on. Also. bro, when you didn't immediately correct this woman who is setting you up with men.... mayhaps that could have been a clue. Correct me if I'm wrong non bisexual/pan/fluid folks, but if you're set up on a date with someone whose gender does not align with your attraction, you're correcting the matchmaker first chance you get. right? Like I enjoy the company of a man (not in a Blanche type of way), but if someone set me up on a date with one, I would be like "very respectfully, you are barking up the wrong tree."

I am imagining your brother all blushy and giggly and flirty and not realizing that he has indeed caught feelings for this dude. THAT HE KEEPS GOING ON DATES WITH. You and your long-suffering uncles. Thoughts and prayers.

...at least your brother already knows what rimming is.

[cupidstwin333]

Heyy, can a request a matchup for BNHA or OHSHC? Any fandom is good tho, just not black butler or obey me cuz I know nothing about them.

My name is Kasper but you can call me Kaz or kasey ( He/They) if you’d like. I’m 19 and a guy, I’m also gay mlm. I’m just going to give you a list so it will be easier to read.

I’m tall, I have a buzz cut thats bleached blonde, I’m have honey brown eyes, I shaved my eye brows completely off, I have an anti eyebrow piercing and snake bites, I’m pretty lanky too but I’m trying to build up muscle, I’m black and Italian, I have a lot of scars from a lot of things, and my aesthetic are Punk/Emo/Y2K. (Also I’m trying to grow out my beard a little bit, but not too much at all)

I’m an INTP, I’m an Aquarius, I’m protective and explorative and I can be an asshole sometimes.

Likes: I like politics (Punk, leftist, feminist, Activist, etc. not any alt right politics), volleyball, working out, metal, death metal, nu metal, rap, cars, Nascar, Rioting, protesting, skateboarding, exploring abandoned places, exploring in general, gaming, horror, and scary things.

Dislikes: Posers, people on the alt right, boring things, dsmp, people who strictly follow the rules, cold water, thunder, school, that’s about it.

Extra: Rn I’m a bouncer for a club but I’m working up to start bartending. I really want to keep working for clubs, bars, and casinos. Also I have NPD and Depression. I’m also a pot head and a partygoer ig.

Romantic or platonic, either is fine. thats it I think, thanks

After a long time of thinking 💭 your match is...

Ritsu Kasanoda

Background:

You worked at a private club in Tokyo as a bouncer, you were competent at your job and you enjoyed it. It was a normal evening and you were standing at the entrance until your supervisor told you to get inside and guard the V.I.P section. “We have a few special guests coming and I need you to make sure nothing happens to them.” You nodded and stepped inside. The V.I.P section was still empty, so you had some time. You headed to the bar and talked with the bartender. You two were close. One time after your shifts ended he heard you wanted to start working behind the bar. He taught you how everything worked and how to make a few drinks. However, you accidentally knocked over a bottle of whiskey and your supervisor got so mad and started yelling. The two of you tried not to laugh at how ridiculous his face looked. I mean there was no need for him to get that mad over a bottle of whiskey.

“Kaz! Hurry up!” your supervisor called out. With an uninterested face, you turned to see your supervisor. You sighed and walked over to the V.I.P section. “Good luck, Kasey.” The bartender said as he made another drink. Once you got there your supervisor started nagging again and you fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. He was annoying but that was all he was. He wasn't scary or intimidating he had all this talk but couldn't back it up. You looked inside and saw what looked like a Yakuza meeting. You were curious to see who the leader was so your eyes wandered to whoever sat in the middle. To your surprise, it was a young guy who looked around your age. Your Supervisor entered the room and said "This is Kaz and he will be here to cater to all your needs." He glanced at you and gave you a sweet smile. You knew exactly what he was doing. "I am not a waiter, ask someone else to do it," you replied with an annoyed look. Your supervisor came closer and whispered something in your ear "if you do this, you get a bonus immediately after your shift, they are willing to pay a lot." You needed the money tho, so you sighed and said "if there is anything let me know." You stepped outside to guard it. Until the red-haired "leader" spoke up "you have worked here for quite a while, right?" His voice was deep and raspy, it was attractive. You tried to ignore your previous thought as nodded and waited for him to continue, while you analyzed his features. He showed you a picture "Have you ever seen him during one of your shifts?" He asks and you shrug "Not that I recall" you stated. He hands you a piece of paper "Here is my number, call me as soon as you see him, he will come to this club." You accept the piece of paper and return to guarding the V.I.P section.

How it started:

Despite your vastly different backgrounds and lifestyles, you and Kasanoda found yourselves drawn to each other. You two would spend hours talking about your passions and beliefs, even if you two didn't always agree on everything. You loved how Kasanoda was willing to stand up for what he believed in, even if it meant going against the law or defying societal norms. And Kasanoda was fascinated by your strong convictions and commitment to activism.

Despite your busy schedules and dangerous circumstances, you and Kasanoda began dating in secret. You would steal moments together whenever the two of you could, sneaking off to abandoned buildings or dark alleyways for a stolen kiss or embrace.

Your love for exploring and your affinity for scary things proved to be a perfect match for Kasanoda's adventurous spirit. You two would often spend your free time exploring Tokyo's abandoned places, seeking out the creepiest and most chilling locations.

General headcanons:

💘Kasanoda loves to cuddle up with you on the couch and watch movies, resulting in you two falling asleep in each other's arms.

💘Kasanoda loves to dance together, often slow dancing with you in your living room to your favorite songs.

💘The two of you often cook together, trying out new recipes and experimenting with different flavors and ingredients.

💘You guys always support each other's dreams and goals, encouraging each other to reach for the stars.

I'd appreciate it if you'd reblog this, and I hope you enjoyed reading this <3

[gummyzberry]

Bad looked outside it’s still raining he whispered,

WHAT YOU SAY BAD?? pac asked in a loud tone I can’t hear you.

Bad turns to look at him, oh uhm I just said it’s still raining pointing out side.

Oh I see pac said looking outside. yah it’s been raining for a bit it’s been raining for 4 days now, are you planning to go home soon bad? Your not going to stay late night again are you? Bad your not going to stay late working more are you? Asking again. You work to much man, go home it’s late and passed our work hour pac said.

Bad looked at him yes, I think I’ll head home he answered. It’s raining pretty hard you should also leave pac.

I will pac answered, I’m just waiting for you to make sure you’re not staying too late we don’t want you to overwork yourself you know.

Bad looked at at him with a smile that’s sweet pac I’ll go get my stuff, you can start heading out I’ll lock the front door in my way out.

Alright bad I’ll see you tomorrow pac waved at him leaving bad packing his stuff. Well I guess I’ll just head out now bad locks the door behind him and makes his way to his car, but while running to his car he finds someone passed out near the bushes. Where he has to pass in order to get to his car.

Well bad thinks looking at the guy on the floor I wander what happened to them walking pass them to get to his car. Bad unlocks his car and gets inside he puts his stuff In the front passenger seat and turns on his car. He looked back at the bushes contemplating if to go check on the guy or just to leave. feeling bad he get out just telling himself he’ll regret this and what if that person is just a weirdo or something. Bad walks up to them to check if they were ok bad turns them around to see them covered with dirt but still alive. Bad looks at them closely he looks familiar have I seen him before? He thought to himself, touching there forehead they had a fever, he looked at him and looked at the car bad picked them up with all his strength. Bad didn’t think this person was going to be as heavy as they were. bad dragged them in to his car and took them home with him. The rain had calmed down once he got home what good timing. bad had a little house with a lot of flowers around it with beautiful tress leading into his driveway. Bad pulled the person out his car and into his house pushing them in and leaving them on the floor while he went back to get his stuff.

After getting his stuff he looked at the guy on his floor feeling bad he tried cleaning him with a towel didn’t work there fur was still dirty and a yucky brown. well bathtub it is bad said turning on the water to a warm temperature. While dragging the person he accidentally hit his head with the wall of the bathroom to undress him he Hurd a small gral muffled. Bad was impressed that they haven’t woken up with all the bumps and hits they received while bad was moving him. Bad got on top of him undressing them though he felt embarrassed do so he still stripped him naked. Tho he was impressed how well fit he looked and how big he was as well he picked him up and put him in the tub to which he didn’t fit. How about that bad looked at him and picked up his clothes putting them in the cleaners they should be clean once his done cleaning the person. Bad went back cleaning the mess they left and picking up his hair dryer and brush in his way back to the bathroom. Know for the hard part bad looked at the bathroom door, here goes nothing he went in and started scrubbing them. He hadn’t noticed how firm his muscles were he’s face turned red for-a bit. bad got closer to him cleaning his body he he smelled nice reminds him of someone but couldn’t remember who it was. Bad started cleaning and brushing his head and face softly then to his chest to which he felt his face and finger tips warm up he had quite the a big chest soft and firm bad wanted to put hi face in but he snapped out of it. he moved on to his arms then his legs he rinsed him off as much as he could and then dried him till his fur was fluffy. It was hard to dry him fully bad was exhausted from it but In the end bad fully dried him and patted him wanting to see if he would react but all he got was was a small growl from it. Bad then took him to his living room and left him there in the fosa and went to check on his clothes only his boxers were dry his others clothes were still wet because of how thick they were. well can’t do much with it bad took the boxers and put them on know fluffy bear bad wander if the bear had a big dick because he was a tall and all fluffed up or he was just hard, after he kinda jurked him while cleaning him off. not that he would do that to a unconscious person he was just cleaning him. Bad felt he’s face turn red looking at him on the fosa bad laid him down and covered him with blankets so he was warm at night .

Bad went back to the bathroom cleaning it up and after took a bath him self then went to bed. In the same time bad got up to check to see if the bear was doing fine, but he was surprised to see that his guest was actually cuddling up with the blankets he put on him. That’s what a surprise to bad he didn’t seem to be the cuddling type of person. Bad touch his head to see if his body temperature was better, and yes it had gotten better. All of the sudden the bear opened his eyes and grabbed bad’s arm pulling him over and falling down on the floor the bear looked at bad. Bad looked back at him with feeling uncomfortable on both his arms know over his head grip by one of the bears hands.

Bad looked back at him he looked pissed the more he bad looked at the bear straggly the bear started sniffing him. Uhm bad giggled while the bear kept sniffing him then stoped . Bad looking at him more confused his arm hurting now, you know that really hurts bad said to the bear my arms, the bear looked at him letting go of his hands and so what’s your name bad asked the bear that’s was staring at him he didn’t answer.

The bear looked at him you don’t remember my name he asked in a serious manner.

Bad looked at him uhm no I don’t think I ever met you before he replied

The bear looked away from bad thinking deeply about something alright he answered he got up and looked around were am I I don’t remember coming over some “random person” place he asked walking up to bad bathroom looking for something.

That’s Weird bad thought it seem like he knew the place. Hey where are u going?? While getting up from the floor.

I’m looking for my clothes the bear answered why do you want to see me walk out almost naked? he asked turning around to see bad.

bad face now red well uhm your clothes aren’t really ready there still wet. I was going to finish drying them in the morning.

The bear looked at him confused what? What do you mean? Dry them. . . now walking up to bad grabbing bad’s face squeezing it and look at up to me when I’m talking to you not my chest.

Bad looked at him, his face was hot he thought to him self then looked to the floor, dam it he must have just seem like a creep staring at the bears chest. Yes bad answer. The bear looked pleased letting go of him, the bear went back to the sofa and sat there. There was a nock on the door, bad looked up who could that be at this hour??

Are you going to get that? the bear asked getting up I’ll just get it.

What? bad asked

The bear know at the door

Wait! bad yelled now running to stop the bear from opening it.

The bear unlocked it opening it a bit before bad Slammed both himself and the bear on to the door hit it quite hard HEY! The bear yelled in a loud tone bad covered his mouth shhhh bad cut him off.

Bad are you ok? What going on in there?? It was pac checking to see if bad go home and not stayed late working. Bad?? Pac asked . I Hurd a lot of a loud noise behind the door, are u ok I’m coming In I’m just making sure ur ok. Pac asked now opening the door. Bad?

[perpetually-sad-but-its-fine]

2x19 of FBI (only watching for ms. hailey upton)

bro

that starting??

scared the ever-loving shit out of me

it was so graphic???

what for??

why??

oooo

haileyyyy

my girl looks so GOOD

i don't understand how its possible for someone to look that pretty

i don't

its not fair

this OA guy is kinda...

he’s um...

idek him at ALL

and im kinda

*debby ryan hair tuck*

*clears throat* anyways

he’s also really tall???

how tall is this actor???

BRO THE ACTOR IS 6′ 5″(1.96m)???

WHAT

UM

IM FIVE FOOT ZERO

WHAT THE FUCK

moving on

the guy who made the hamilton reference???

love him

don't even know his name

love him

20 seconds into their partnership and its not going well

hailey immediately calling him out and then acting casual by saying ‘which car? this one?’ 

OA being extremely awkward and trying to justify??

not rlly sure how i feel about that

‘any observations?’

‘pizza’s too thin. it’s like a cracker with sauce on it. just tryna keep it real.’

heR SMILE AFTER SHE SAYS THAT IS SO BEAUTIFUL

and also

that’s such a chicago thing to say LMAOO

and then OA’s face of ‘ah, well, um. o-okay? what do i do now?’

‘it’s a new york thing’

‘it felt like a cop vs fed thing’

‘what's that supposed to mean?’

‘you think youre better than us.’

*cackling*

OA LOOKS LIKE HES ASKING FOR HELP

im loving how blunt hailey is and we’re only 4 minutes into the episode

his impressed face after hailey says ‘sikh’ is fantastic

my girl is so lovely

ofc the indian victim is top of his class and in america to pursue engineering

not rlly sure if im reading into it but eh

not rlly liking the stereotypes

but then again

hes the victim

we don't rlly need too much of his backstory

this lady talking to professor is really pretty???

mY GOD SHES BEAUTIFUL

i don't even know her name

but she's absolutely stunning

is the professor involved in this??

why do i feel like he is???

frank prichard?

more like frank PRICKard amiright?

OA’s ‘excuse me’ in that low voice??? SEGGSY

also

frank

you can go jump off a cliff

hailey lowkey looking like she wants to shoot him is a mood bc SAME

oh, he's got pictures of the ones he thinks are “suspicious” (note the sarcasm)

yea

im not at all pissed off

both OA and hailey shooting him a death glare???

*chefs kiss*

the embodiment of bisexual panic actually

‘he’s an indian. not an arab’

‘kinda the same thing right?’

no tf its not

and if you don't shut your whore mouth, frank

im gonna pull out your teeth, one by one

hailey’s authoritative ‘NOW’

oh

my

god

ma’am

im not strong enough

that was so...

*slowly gets on knees*

hailey stepping closer and threatening frank is doing something to me

frank looking up at OA and being met with an extremely sexy death stare??

we love it

im already loving this partnership

‘do you understand?’

MAAM PLEASE

THIS IS TOO MUCH

also

i love seeing frank nearly piss his pants

their slight banter is great

they could be besties

i want them to be besties

hailey saying FBI gave me shock

didn't expect to hear that

‘thirty-years-old, male, likes to party’

*hailey nodding as if that gives a lot of information’

how the hell does she shove him??

dude’s a fuckin mountain of pure muscle

how??

OA lowkey sounds like jay tho

like his voice and jay’s are rlly similar to me

HAILEY CASUALLY JUMPING OVER THE CAR???

MISS MA’AM

THIS ENTIRE EPISODE IS JUST GONNA BE ME THIRSTING OVER HAILEY, ISN’T IT???

why did the ‘oh. okay. cool. you’re welcome.’ make me laugh?

OA looks like he wants to shake hailey by the shoulders and ask her what her deal is

‘so the neighbors loved him’

‘exactly’

i love how FBI (from what I can tell) is more humorous than chicago pd even tho the FBI is supposed to be more strict than cpd

this woman

the same woman that talked to the professor

is so

P R E T T Y

how is everyone in this show so attractive??

its not fair

im tryna watch for the plot

and yet

im getting distracted

hailey looks fine as fuck in all black

her smug little ‘i think i can do that’ makes me nervous for what she's about to do

‘kiss my ass, blondie’

bro’s got no idea what he’s started

Hailey looking over to OA and silently asking for permission to go batshit crazy??

love to see it

OA’s smile when hailey makes the threat

it’s great

i want them to be besties

really

i need it actually

who is this maggie

is this who hailey is ‘replacing’ in this episode??

wait

are they dating??

cuz OA’s face looks a bit lovestruck

hailey immediately caught onto their relationship

i know it

the look on her face said everything

she’s relating it to her and jay

oh he’s definitely in love with maggie

its obvious

this girl that hailey’s questioning??

i think she knows something

her responses are too fake

hailey can sense it too, im pretty sure

oh my god

there's another dead body

oh no

its the roommate??

isn't it??

oh wait

its not

hailey taking charge

as much as i love the idea of sergeant halstead

sergeant upton has a better ring to it

*shrugs*

just saying

ohhh

there's the roommate

OA and hailey

again

being the best duo

its so funny to me how its only been a little more than half of an episode and im already invested in these characters

I FUCKIN KNEW THAT LADY WAS INVOLVED

I KNEW IT

oh wait

is that a wedding ring on OA’s hand???

it looked like one

ive rewinded that part five times

i still can't tell if its a wedding ring or not

I  K N E W  I T

SHES INVOLVED

this interrogation room is so dark and lowkey scaring me

‘he’s a good person’

ma’am, please

your boyfriend may have killed two people

gimme a break

‘you don't know him like i do’

it’s giving ‘i can fix him’ vibes

‘in love’

‘more like dumb love’

‘what’s the difference’

hailey’s in her feels about jay

i know it. i knOW IT. I KNOW IT.

hailey

whatre you gonna do

don't do anything stupid

hailey

hailey

please

oh my gOD

the dAD

things just escalated real quick

irrelevant and SO not the moment but hailey looks so good in that lighting

ms. upton taking the lead

something i love to see, honestly

shE LOOKS SO GOOD

IM SO FUCKIN DISTRACTED

SHE LOOKS SO G O O D

TW: ABUSE, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, GASLIGHTING. IF YOU ARENT COMFORTABLE, SKIP UNTIL YOU SEE THE NEXT BOLDED PART.

oh shit

it’s an abusive relationship

oh no

hailey

oh poor girl

poor hailey

she can't have a break can she??

not even on a different show

she needs to suffer

why must they do this

its hurting me

her past with her father always kills me

very casual OA

questioning her

so so casual

bro’s so blunt it’s funny

and then he realises that what he said isn't appropriate and apologies

he so sweet

hes like a giant teddy bear

in case it wasn’t clear

i hate lucas reed

with every fibre of my being

he’s an abusive asshole

and srsly???

dude!!

STOP BEING SUCH A SELFSH ASS

harper’s strong

i feel so bad for her

agh

the gaslighting

no

i...

just no

BRO JUST SNATCHED THE BAG

NO REMORSE

NONE

OH MY GOD

CONGRATULATIONS YOU MADE IT THROUGH. PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOU CAN ALWAYS ASK FOR HELP. I LOVE YOU. STAY SAFE.

HARPER’S GONNA GET SHOT ISNT SHE

oh thank god

oh poor harper

thiS IS SO EMOTIONAL

it’s funny to me how OA has to literally bend his head all the way down in order to get into the car

the impressed look on OA’s face plus his cute little ‘okay, chicago’ is something to live for

hailey being super casual about it as if she didn’t impress literal FBI agents

we love a humble queen

who’s gonna make the drop?

is it gonna be harper??

they can't leave the poor girl alone, can they???

oh god

this is gonna make me cry

im super nervous for this

harper

you got this

not liking this dude

don't use the nicknames man

don't do it

its disgusting

OA is close to freaking out bc of hailey

the look on his face says, ‘you better know what youre doing’

nopenopenopenopenope

stay the hell away from her

stop being creepy

YES HARPER

YOU GOT IT

hailey’s smile

it is absolute happiness

im in love

i could live off of photos of her smiling, i swear

OH MY GOD

WHAT THE FUCK

IS SHE DEAD????

oh god

oh thank god

i thought she was dead

i swear to fucking god

OA sounds E X A C T L Y like jay

haileyyyy

my loveee

OA and hailey friendship 

their banter

we love to see it

hailey stop being humble

bro

do we not get to see them become besties????

like???

WE COULDVE AT LEAST HEARD THE REASON WHY HE BECAME A FED

oh god

im gonna binge watch this series, aren't i?

[overly-verbose]

(Thank you for reminding me about this one with that reblog, @serpent-hell !!)

This is absolutely beautiful lmfao, I'm kinda late to do it but thank you so much for the cackles and art, @charlotte-queen-owl !! 😂😂😂😂😂

They absolutely Would recreate a freaking meme in real life together lmfao, those two spooky gremlins 😂😂🤣😂🤣🤣😂🤣

I appreciate the sunglasses (absolutely accurate, they both definitely would And my SIkuna/Syuuya is probably gonna actually wear them sometimes in the Main Series Canon when out and about to freak people out less lol (I mean I dunno if it'd work but A+ for effort and style!))

and the Fabulous Claws✨💅 they're very important to his image ofc,

can't be slacking on style when competing with Satoru for most stylish Older Familial Figure after all (not that SIkuna would be 100% aware that they're even competing tho lmfao)

Also the fact that apparently Serpent's SIkuna/Kain doesn't have a license or anything but is behind the wheel, all the while Syuuya is actually a very responsible driver most of the time (and would definitely get a driving license if possible, just in case), is SenDING ME- 🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂

Like, I can definitely imagine that conversation being basically "I wanna drive."

*not necessarily sceptical, but curious* "Can you drive?"

"I can improvise."

"..."

*remembers that he's talking to mr. Kids' Safety Above All (maybe even more than himself?), Moral Obligations and The Law included* "We're not taking the kids with us, you know. It's not like a car crash would even do anything to either of us."

*nods, because yeah* "...I suppose you're right. I'll do my best not to backseat-driver you 👍"

*jumps behind the wheel* "Nice! Aand we're going to Burger King"

*sits down on the other seat* "Hmm, that's a nice idea. And, well, humourous as well."

*both snicker because hehe 'king'*

[A while later]

*stares at the KFC sign* "...This is not a Burger King."

"Yyup. It sure isn't."

(they got kinda lost lol (but went along with it for the hehes))

(and yeah, Syuuya does know how to cook lol

- although he did have to regain the muscle memory for it because mr. Death and Calamity and Uraume You're The Cook Not Me didn't exactly get involved in that too much before getting merged with the Before Person lmfao)

Poor SI!Mahito indeed lol, I have a feeling that he didn't expect to either deal with such incomprehensive freaking orders or with a DOUBLED meeting with freaking- Sukuna of all people???????

Bro's sweating and I don't blame him 😂

(like, how exactly do you inform these customers that uhhh they may be at the wrong place!????

-That is if they don't already know and are just fucking around for the hehes which- I mean, would be in-character tbf 😂?)

Anyway, thank you verily for the art, very cool very funny yes 👏👏👏👏👏👏 :DDDD

Burger king 👑.