#sort of i always forget that tag tho

[ninjasmudge]

bought the dlcs, ive been doing naked crusade runs on my new save and it cracks me up every time

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so ive been this reading this manga called "ojisama to neko" ( eng: "a man and his cat" ) and its sosososo cute so sweet 10/10 would recommend also THE MAIN MAN LOOKS. KINDA LIKE SAWASHIRO EVEN IF THEIR PERSONALITIES COULDNT BE MORE FAR APART. His name is Fuyuki Kanda and he is very dear to me just thought to share hope u have a wonderful day

NOOOO I LOVE OJISAMA TO NEKO SO MUCH !!!! I REMEMBER WHEN IT FIRST CAME OUT YEARS AGO AND I REALLY WANTED PHYSICAL COPIES OF IT DESPITE IT BEING ONLY IN JAPANESE AT THE TIME AAAAAA SUCH A GOOD SERIES I LOVE FUKUMARU SO MUCH….

[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!

note: please do not ask me for updates or when i will next update (read rules)

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@joemama-2 @luniunia @4y3sh4 @ironhottubstranger @lushafterglow

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@ifartmangos @andeverden @13-09-01 @lindyloomoo @tvdumarvelhpsimp

note: please let me know in the replies if your taglist preferences change!

taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you’d like! :0)

[fairyhaos]

seventeen's "loser line" in a relationship

[ requested by @valenhui ]

based off of the "losers when in love"* bullet point in this headcanon! theyre literally SO fuckinfg cute oml i might write full fics for them if i have time ><

*consists of junhui, mingyu, chan.

junhui

pathetic and adorable kind of loser. pathetic really.... is genuinely the best way to describe it. he's so desperately, pathetically in love with you and literally acts like he's still hopelessly pining over you even though you've already started dating. laughs super hard at your jokes and stares at you with sparkles in his eyes and flirts with you at every given opportunity like he isn't already dating you and hasn't already won over your affections ages ago. but hey, he's dedicated, and you can't exactly complain at being showered with all of his attention.

also randomly informs you that he's in love with you at any time of day. you'll be watching a movie in the theatre and he'll tug your sleeve, leaning into your space almost shyly and being like "hey. hey. i just wanted to let you know... im kind of in love with you" before scrunching his shoulders up all shy and leaning quickly away from you again. hes always so adorable, ears turning pink even as he flirts with you into oblivion before tacking on a cute "im in love with you, by the way" at the end. every time he says it, you feel so overwhelmed because god, you're so in love with him too

mingyu

wet puppy kind of loser. i'm talking whining 24/7, pouting dramatically whenever you're not clinging to his side, and snuggling into you whenever possible. it's like dating a large, overgrown puppy that doesn't realise he's as big as he is, if that puppy suddenly found out how to talk and cook and do the laundry and looks up at you with big, shining eyes when you come home and goes "hello!! i made every single one of your favourite foods when you were gone bc i missed you so much. how was your day??" at least twice a week. (you're beginning to worry that mingyu might have some sort of separation anxiety.)

also he Does Not care if the other members tease him for being so in love with you, bc hey, yoon jeonghan's just jealous of your lurrrve anyway. but he will sulk if You tease him about it bc hey :(( you're the love of his life :((( don't be mean to him :((( gives you those big, wet, sad eyes every time you tease him until you finally laugh and give him a big kiss to placate him. tells you he loves you every single hour of the day. the members can tease him all they want, but all that matters to him is that you're aware that he Genuinely loves you to pieces.

chan

devastatingly infatuated kind of loser. he literally just. ADORES you so much in a kinda adorable, kinda incredible way because it surprises you again and again when he does something and you realise he loves you so much. and he does things, a lot, because this man is literally doing everything for you. hangs onto your every word like they hold the secrets to the universe, and remembers everything you tell him like it's his life's mission to become an expert on your likes and dislikes. has definitely zoned out whilst staring at you too many times to count.

i gotta stress how in love this man is tho, like. would 100% change his profession into loving you 24/7 if he could. no one wants to go out drinking when the two of you are together bc when chan gets drunk, he just repeats how in love with you he is over and over again like a broken record. (hoshi made the mistake of joining you two, once. he recounts the incident with a look of mild horror every single gathering the 14 of you have.) he doesn't say ily to your face a lot, but it's mostly bc he just forgets cuz he's been staring at you in an utterly lovesick way for far too long.

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bunnliix @bananabubble

[alieinthemorning]

TOUCHED STARVED LEONA WITH VERY PDA AFFECTIONATE FEM!READER AAAAAA

A Familiar Touch [Leona Kingscholar]

Content: Touch-Starved, Fluff, Emotional Hurt and Comfort, Soft Leona Kingscholar

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

How long had it been since someone had run a brush  through his hair? Gently undoing each and every knot and tangle. Who hummed a tune that was different from the one from before, yet familiar all the same.

He felt like a cub again, and honestly?

He didn't like what feelings that dredged up.

However, he also couldn't bare to remove himself from such bliss.

Call him selfish, he didn't care.

Chartreuse eyes open to find your own closed, a soft smile gracing your features with the sunlight from the open blinds of his balcony haloing you.

You were beautiful.

"Sounds like you're thinking pretty hard there." Your voice cut through his thoughts.

He was glad that your hands were in his hair and not on his face because he couldn't keep himself from flushing.

He sighed, tail thumping against the sheets. "You're imaginin' things."

"Sure, sure..." You paused, then asked. "Are you thinking about home?"

He froze.

Seven, you were too perceptive for your own good.

And he had already confirmed your suspicions by freezing up like damn prey.

He pulled himself up, showing you his back (putting up some kind of wall between the two you).

You placed a hand on his back, however, completely disregarding his weak attempt at closing you off.

"Talk to me."

His eyes slid close as his body leaned forward. Elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Your body followed him.

"When I was little my mother would always brush my hair before bed. She would take her time and hum this little tune and just..." He trailed off, losing himself in the feelings of those memories.

He didn't like thinking of is ma. It brought up too much to the surface. Too much that he refused to sort through.

Too much about her.

Too much about his father.

Too much about his brother.

Too much about how much he has lost.

"Leona." One again, you pull him from that headspace. "I hope I'm not over stepping but..."

"I'm so happy that I'm you trust me with things like this."

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "'Course I trust you with this.'

"I love you."

Guess who's feeling better from the Big Ick?

It's me (i've been up for 3 hours lmao)!

Anyway, this took forever and I didn't end up using the other two requested traits of: short and bubbly, but hey we got touch-starved (did we tho?????)

We got something nice and soft and that's all that matters uwu

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[lodium]

for comfort

Some bad irl things happened affecting my condition more. Exhausted from endless, pointless expenses and attempts to heal what I don’t need and what I hate. Thought that I could comfort myself with these a little. Going to distort

I accidentally and mindlessly started drawing a cowboy hat on Captain's head and within seconds was: "wait a minute"

Didn't draw them for too long. I still have some older sketches with them but I feel tired with perfection or am cringe about myself and my ideas.

Was drawing at the late night as always but didn't have enough strength and sense to post. Wasn't sure about adding tags again with my bigger anxiety. But forgetting that they help to sort stuff on your profile. Tho I still wouldn't add them on some of mine. I'll just put small tags, I guess

[littlexscarletxwitch]

another idea! someone harrassed you online and Yelena does her spy stuff, gets the dude to Actually apologize and Mean it. and then as she's comforting you she's like...sneakily going down to eat you out and make you forget about stupid boys.

-💦🍯

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with some plot, it's actually not that dirty, I mean it is but I was hoping for it to be sweet and lovely and cute, not sure if it worked out tho, yelena being the overprotective gf she is

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, mentions of online harassment, mentions of a boy being a dick (I hate men), yelena wanting to kill said man because he made r cry, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.7k

note: NONNIEEE, I'm sooo sorry it took me so long to write this. But I'm so glad I finally get to post this one. I really hope you like it, and I'm sorry if it's not as dirty and smutty as you wanted it. I still need so practise lol. Thank you for the request, anon, ily. I'm not an english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

To say she was pissed was an understatement, she was furious, she felt as if her blood was boiling, and all she could see was mad red.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing and all she could see was you. Everytime, her mind took her back to a couple of hours earlier in the day, and there you were crying, brows furrowed, bottom lip trembling and your phone in front of your eyes. Her heart skipped a beat once she took a look at you. She felt the muscular organ breaking into a million pieces, you looked so small, and fragile, like a lost puppy.

“Y/n? Baby, what happened?” Yelena asked, concerned and worried in her tone.

“Nothing, nothing. I just…,” you sniffed. Tears rolled down your cheeks as Yelena’s thumbs gently brushed them away.

“It’s not ‘nothing’, Y/n. What happened?” she took your phone from your hands, leaving it on the floor and wrapped her hands around yours.

“People can be so mean. Why are they mean, Lena?” you sobbed, your head fell on her shoulder as you let the river of tears flow.

It took you a while to finally open up to her because you wouldn’t stop crying. Yelena’s heart sank into her tummy as she listened to your words carefully. The sadness she felt for you soon shifted into anger as she realised the reason why you were crying was because of some stupid miserable insensitive boy.

Some brainless damned bored fucker had made some online comments about you. She scoffed, how did that asshat dare to make you cry? How did he dare to say those awful things about you? Was he really that bored to mess with you? Was he really that miserable to make other people cry? And you of all people. Why did it have to be you? You who were so sweet to everyone, including people you didn’t even know. You who would never talk shit about anyone. You who would always take care of everyone else before yourself.

It was Yelena’s job to take care of you. All she wanted was for you to stop crying and to make you feel better, so she made it her mission, literally. She wasn’t good with her words when it came to you, she felt like she could never say the right thing to make you feel better, so she did what she did best, and made it her next mission to find this repulsive freak and make him pay for all the tears you had shed because of him.

You were so tired from all the crying that soon enough you had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She carried you up to your shared bedroom, tugged you in, left a soft kiss on your forehead and got to work.

Tracking this guy down wasn’t hard at all, the jackass was careless, he probably thought that leaving hate comments here and there wouldn’t cause him any kind of problems. But boy was he wrong.

She breathed out one last time, trying to not let her anger get the best out of her, and then she opened up her eyes. There she was, parked right outside Jared’s house. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, she felt like she could just kill Jared for what he put you though. But she knew you wouldn’t like that nor would it help you.

“Okay, here it goes,” she said, getting out of the car.

She impatiently knocked on the door, making no attempt to stop the loud knocking until Jared dared to open up.

“Jesus, I said I’m coming,” she heard someone say from the other side.

As soon as the door was unlocked, she pushed it open and made her way in.

“Hello, Jared,” she said, shutting the door behind her with a fake small on her lips.

“Who the fuck are you?” he sounded as angry as Yelena felt.

“We are going to have a chit chat, Jared.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are. You are going to leave or I’ll call the cops,” he stepped forward, trying to intimidate Yelena. She just rolled her eyes at the action.

“I’d like to see you try,” she said, pushing him back strongly enough for him to lose his balance and fall on his butt. “You see, Jared—.”

“How the fuck do you know me?”

“You said some things that I didn’t like,” she ignored him. “In fact, I’m really pissed off at the moment, so much that I feel like I could just rip your head off,” she chuckled as she watched the horror in his eyes. “You fucked up, Jared. Big time. You made the person I care most on this planet cry, and I hate you for that.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You got the wrong guy, I swear I didn’t—.”

“Oh, really? So you are not @jaredrocks.com?”

“I, um…,” he hesitated, swallowing down the lump that had formed on his throat, which didn’t go unnoticed by Yelena.

“Yeah, I figured,” she clicked her tongue in annoyance. “So here’s what you are going to do, Jared,” his face went pale as he noticed Yelena’s mood change, he could tell she was getting angrier by the second and he didn’t want her to snap. Not after she pushed him to the ground so effortlessly.

All he could do was nod as Yelena talked, “You are going to come with me, apologise to her and you’ll promise that you would never do bad shit ever again, Jared. Because if you do, I will find out and I won’t be holding back next time. Got it?” she raised her brow at him for Jared to quickly nod again. “Great! Get on your feet.”

Once Jared and Yelena made their way to your shared apartment, she quickly pulled him out of the car and to the front door. You were waiting for them, well actually just Yelena. She had called you earlier and told you to be outside, she said she wanted to show you something. You felt a chill crawling up your back once you saw a man walking next to her.

“Baby, this is Jared. He has a lot to say to you.”

“Jared? I don’t understand—.”

But you were quickly cut off as Jared began to ramble about how sorry he was, that he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he was just bored and sad, that he was a pathetic little douche bag —Yelena made him say that— and that he would never do something like that ever again. That he regretted ever doing something like that. Suddenly it hit you, he was the prick who wrote that shit about you.

“You really hurt me, Jared.”

“I now can see that. I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you could only nod at him, biting your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Okay. You’re done here, Jared. Now, get lost,” Yelena patted his back motioning for him to walk away.

“But I don’t—”

“Get lost, Jared,” Yelena repeated herself, this time her tone was harsher and Jared got the memo.

Once he was out of your sight the two of you made your way inside the comfort of your home. You still felt weird about the whole situation. You appreciated Jared’s apology, but you couldn’t stop thinking about all his mean comments.

“Y/n, stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“I know you are thinking about everything he said, but you must know that he was full of shit,” she said, making her way towards you on the bed.

“Lena, I just…” she could see the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

“Y/n, you are the prettiest, smartest, kindest girl I ever had the pleasure to meet. You are so full of light, Y/n. Don’t let an asshole like Jared put you out, you hear me?”

You nodded, battling the tears.

“Let me show you how special you are, Y/n,” she said as she brushed her nose against your cheek, her lips impatiently searching for yours.

Her lips muffled a gasp coming out of your lips. Like usual, her lips moved perfectly in sync against yours, soft and rough. Her tongue danced around with yours. Her teeth biting your bottom lip. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as your skin set on fire just with how close she was.

“Make me forget, Yel,” you said breathlessly in between kisses.

Your back hit the bed as Yelena got on top of you, her lips never leaving yours. You wrapped your legs around her hip and quietly moaned once your clothed core made contact with hers.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” she mumbled against your skin as she trailed a path of wet kisses along your jaw.

Somehow in between kisses and soft caresses, Yelena got your body bare. She left a kiss on your forehead, one on your left cheek, another right in between your breasts, and one on your abdomen before making her way to your aching wet core.

“So perfect,” you heard her say before the room was filled with your loud moaning.

She sucked, bit, kissed and licked as she pleased, making a mess out of you. Gently but eagerly she pushed two fingers inside of you, a moan escaped from Yelena’s lips as she felt your cunt clenching around her fingers. She kept a steady pace, slightly curling her fingers to get you to enjoy it as much as you could, as her lips worked on your clit.

Your hands flew to her hair, tugging at it, pushing her even closer to your cunt. And with a loud cry you came undone on her mouth. Yelena’s lips moved fast to drink up every bit of your juice she could as her tongue helped you ride your high. Once you were finished, she left one last kiss on your cunt and went to cuddle you.

She tugged you in, making sure you were warm and wrapped you in between her arms, leaving small kisses on top of your head.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, Y/n,” you heard her saying as you drift off to sleep, tiredness getting the best of you. “Never again, I promise.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[curse-you-slenderman]

FIRST DOODLE DUMP OF THE ACCOUNT!!! followed by my cheeky little comments on em!

Let me just say that not all of these will happen, these are just for fun and for me to get a hang on the dynamics i want to portray, since i'm a visual sort of person.

let's start with doodles that don't include reader

Me? projecting? nono, why would you think that? anyways, these three, in the CYS universe are autistic. Will they tell reader? will i have the capability of writing their autistic traits correctly? who knows!

Someone is mad, so whoever he is talking to, they better shut up. I'll leave it to yall if this is the host or the protector of their system ;))

Snack time! Remember to always feed yoru canibal demon friends!

Funfact! BEN is the only character who has two entirely different appearances that reader will be able to see. This is because the ARG BEN is too good to go to waste.

I... I don't like Jane's hair in this one. it's decent, but not curly enough. Anyway, sibling coded characters bonding time!

Now for the moment yall been waiting for, THE INTERACTIONS WITH READER!!

Helen and I, express our love for someone by drawing them or stuff for them. Love me that.

Reader, let Liu forget his past plz. Since Liu, like Jane, are one of the less... psychotic of the bunch, it will be fun to see how he will interact with Reader and the similarities and differences from him and Sully

This was supposed to be a quick doodle, until i put a video of an hour and a half and basically rendered the sketch. It's cute tho! Tim is pinning hard in this one!

Rule: Don't touch the new person. LJ: haha, touching said person goes honk honk :o)

It's an interesting dynamic, really. She wants to protect you. Maybe there is a reason why, maybe don't. If you choose her "route" you may find out.

YIPPE I'M DONE! I've been holding away and adding more doodles for a while, and i wanted to share them with yall!

don't mind almost half of the x reader ones not having one of reader's most characteristic thing (the collar)

their designs are being worked as the time of this post, and i soon will show yall their official designs for the fic, but for now, have these!

whenever i'm done with the designs, you all are welcome to draw fanart! the tag is #cys fanart!

[cadaverre]

𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

hi everyone and welcome back to junos monthly newsletter !!! i hope uve all had a wonderful month, whether its getting warmer or colder where u are (thank god its warming up here i would be dying if it was still winter) and i hope u enjoy this months edition ★ 

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

this month was actually one of my fav months of the year so far, my mental health is doing so much better and im finding that the weather is really impacting that. usually its not this warm and sunny but i am so fucking thankful it is !! i had my huge performance this month and it made me super excited to join more music groups and js about performance in general, its such a wonderful night of the year and i always feel so sad when its over !

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜

monthly playlist charm - clairo manic - halsey short n sweet - sabrina carpenter  hypochondriac - brakence better off - esha tewari home video - lucy dacus

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 + 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬

» buffy the vampire slayer - up to season 2 i started watching this show this month and ohh my god i love it !! buffy is such an icon and i love the plot and general vibes, i cant wait to watch more ( cordelia, drusilla and buffy are my fav characters so far btw ) » the perks of being a wallflower (rewatch) - 9/10 i always forget how devastating this movie is and then i watch and im like oh! this is soul destroying! but i love it soso much and it always makes me cry » jennifers body - 9.5/10 oh my god. i love this movie soo much megan fox is so fucking hot and its so iconic and aah im. yeah. love.  » (500) days of summer - 8/10 love this movie !! i loveee the non linear storytelling and i think the acting suits the genre and vibes so well, it wasn’t boring at all which i loved. very nice chill vibes tho » deadpool - 8/10 this movie is soso silly, i love the dynamic camera and again, the non linear storytelling is so yummy. i did not appreciate the like 20 min sex scene as i watched this w my dad but i rlly wanna watch the second one !! » janet planet - 4.5/10  idk this movie gave me weird vibes u can read my review here » thirteen - 8.5/10 the vibes? immaculate. wardrobe? im so jealous. taking drugs? not cool. very stressful at times but i still loved it

𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬

» lolita - unfinished still reading it !! its a little hard to get through but i do like picking it up and reading a few pages every day, its getting so strange but the writing is so enchanting i cant stop reading lowkey … hopefully it’ll be done by the end of next month !! » the virgin suicides - unfinished been reading this occasionally and ohh my god i love it. the whole narration/how its being told from a sort of unknown perspective in a documentary style is so yeah. im so fucking hyped to finish it » my year of rest and relaxation - unfinished yes i am reading three books at once and yes it is slightly inconvenient but !!!! i got this book recently and its so… dreary?? but i love it ?? i feel like i dont have to have my literary analysis hat on to read it which is nice compared to the other books im reading rn.

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 / 𝐚𝐞𝐬

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies + lmk if u wanna be tagged !!

[book-girl4evaaa]

❝ How Very <3 ❞

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"beautiful"

01:57 ━━●─────── 08:39ㅤ ㅤ

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ↻ ♡

First of all rp blogs so you know who I am 😭 @ask-the-great-heather-chandler @athenas-weirdo-daughter

☆ Matching pfps with @manically-depressedd-psychopath ☆

@ book-girl4eva -> @ book-girl4evaaa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{ is it just me or is this looking aesthetic as heck? }

Call me Bea or Eva (I like Bea better tho) ⸙ minor ⸙ libra ⸙ geeky ⸙ Athena Cabin ⸙ overuses the ✨ emoji ⸙ book lover ⸙ bilingual, biracial, biromantic bish ⸙ ace most likely ⸙ free Palestine 🍉 ⸙ British, unfortunately (🥄) ⸙ major Gracie Abrams fan ⸙ Infp-t personality ⸙ ambivert ⸙ African pride ⸙ theatre kid ⸙pepper soup enthusiast ⸙ writer ⸙ artist ⸙ religion is.... complicated but leaning towards agnostic⸙ singer (sort of) ⸙nerd ⸙dancer ⸙ fangirl ⸙sport-lover ⸙ daydreamer ⸙ hopeless romantic ⸙ future designer ⸙ glasses gang ⸙ arsonists ⸙ tag me in poetry! ⸙ green, blue and purple>>> ⸙ chaotic good ⸙ in a world of heathers be a Veronica ⸙

I'm always ready to make new friends (no creeps, please) so please talk to me!

Dislikes/Dni: Zionists ☄ creeps ☄ misogynists ☄ sexists ☄ racists ☄ homophobes ☄ transphobes ☄ bigots of any kind ☄ eating mushrooms ☄ geography ☄ mean people ☄ Monday mornings

Nicknames: Beatrice (by Turtle I miss her :() Beanie (by Shree) Belle (by Tina) Bee (by Myna and Fishy) Bea Bee (by Loife) Bumble Bee (by Ife mi <3333 (archivist)) Bear (by Kitcat) Beezus (by Riyana) (Bea)utiful (by Leta)

If you need someone to blurt random facts, rant about life, or just yap then I'm your girl! Feel free to give me nicknames and chat about random stuff :)

Also, send me asks, please :)

Moots!

Fandoms I'm active in: Pjo, Tpq, Kotlc, Gilded, Hamilton, MCU, agggtm, Amari and the night brothers, the hunger games, six of crows, the folk of the air, heathersssssssssssssssss and many more!

I can speak English, yr 9 level Spanish, tiny bits of Hindi (don't ask) and a few insults in yuroba

DNI if you are: a Zionist, a creep, a misogynist, sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, or just mean/disrespectful.

personal tags: #bea updates - any random og post • #[Bea reblogs] - reblogging a post • #[Bea's on the line] - answering an ask • #bea's wip - self explanatory

"Guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being,"

Side blogs:

@book-girlswhispers (idk Im just vibey and writey on there)

@step-into-my-candystore (my heathers/musical blog)

@she-used-to-bea-mine (my vent blog)

So have a good day, be kind, and love yourself<333

This blog supports Palestine

If you don't, please leave me alone :)

Don't forget your daily clicks!

Byeee! <333

All images from Pinterest, dividers by me :)

I hope you enjoyed my ✨ extremely aesthetic ✨ intro post!

(Veronica Sawyer photo dump underneath because I love herrrr)

Credits to @westerburgresidence !

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Can we see more of Krauser please? You write him so well! 😫 Maybe some hc's about him and his s/o? Can be fluff and or smut.

Hope you have a great day! 🥺

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Sure anon! I'm glad you like how I write him 🥺 I made both SFW and NSFW ones. And my day is great, thank you! I hope you have a great day too. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated because your feedback is important to me. Enjoy!

His s/o is probably one of the few beautiful things in his life. Literally, he puts them on a pedestal, and he makes sure you won't forget how special you are to him.

Jack will spoil you with compliments and all sorts of riches, just to make you feel appreciated and happy.

Sometimes he will murmur in his sleep or flinch because of the nightmares he has. All he needs is your gentle touch to wake up and see that he isn't in real danger. He falls back asleep immediately because he feels safe with you.

He likes to be the big spoon, but he won't say no if you want to switch.

Krauser smokes a lot, about one pack a day if not more when he comes from a mission. You two argue sometimes about his unhealthy habit, but he is stubborn and won't listen. He will try to smoke less in your presence, though.

He loves his sister so much that he considers retiring just to spend more time with her.

He will teach you some knife tricks and some combat moves for your safety. He has a lot of patience with you, and training with him will be another bonding time.

His training routine is hard, and you almost fainted when you tried doing it too. Krauser got a little worried, and after that, he will adjust his training routine so you can join safely too.

He doesn't mind that you get a little clingy and follow him around. As I said, he loves your company, and you are like a breath of fresh air. His job gets ugly sometimes, and he is happy when he gets a warm welcome from you. It can be either a hug, a cuddling session, or just a warm meal; he'd appreciate everything you do for him.

During hugs, he likes when you hold him tight and he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck. It makes him feel safe and valued.

When he doesn't return your calls or texts during his missions, you start to get worried. You're not delusional; you know that he is busy, but your mind can't stop thinking about the worst possible outcomes. What if he got shot? What if she is lying dead somewhere? There are a lot of "what ifs" that harm you, but you can't ignore them.

He does call you back when he is back to safety, and you are so happy to hear his voice that you almost cry.

No matter where he goes, he makes sure to get some cute souvenirs for you. From keychains to expensive jewelry, Krauser won't come empty-handed.

He prefers sex positions that include full-body contact, such as the missionary, the flat iron, or the lotus. He isn't very picky in bed, and if you want to try something new, he won't say no.

He likes sex toys but doesn't use them often. He likes to make you cum with his cock and fingers, not some plastic toy.

His cock is fairly above average and slightly thick, so he needs to warm you up really well before entering you.

He always compliments you during sex about how good your pussy/ass is, how cute you are when you sob, etc.

Has a size kink and a dacryphilia one, but it's more of a secret. You'll figure it out when he'll constantly hits your cervix so hard that you start tearing up, and at that moment, his cock will throb hard and his moans will get louder.

Your pleasure is his top priority.

He loves when you look into his eyes while blowing him. He loves how those big eyes of yours stare at him while your pretty mouth is full of his cock.

He loves cybersex. It can be sexting, or if he is alone, you can do it on video call too. 

He secretly likes to be dominated. He sometimes gets a boner when you boss him around. He won't admit it tho.

Tag list: @alewesker @rokurodokuro (if you wanna be added DM me) 💖

[ihavemanyhusbands]

I Need You Pt. 2 (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 can be found here

Aaron finally comes to his senses about your relationship.

Special tag for @hotchsdoormat

WC: 2.5k words

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Swearing, angst (light stuff tho), some alcohol consumption, idk what else but lmk if I need to add anything!

A/N: Screaming and crying and yearning and throwing up pls enjoy

The next month and a half passed by quietly.

Aaron had been gone before you woke up, just like he said he would. In a state of half-consciousness, you registered his heat leaving your side. You’d stayed in bed all day after that, watching the last trickles of the storm trailing down your window.

He took the rain with him when he left. Now the world was just bleak and gray, but at least it was dry. It was cold too, and even layering sweaters barely helped. 

The withdrawals that came with his absence felt different too, much more intense. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the night ended so ambiguously. You couldn’t help but feel like something had changed – something important enough that it couldn’t really be ignored. Could it have been his way of actually saying goodbye?

Once that thought entered your mind, it was impossible to get it out.

Other times, missing him was a hollow sort of ache that you could feel somewhere in your chest. It waned as the days progressed, until you were distracted enough with your daily routine. It was easier to forget, then. Not entirely, but at least to a bearable degree. 

Back then, you blindly believed he would always come back. Now you weren’t so sure. No guarantee of anything, he’d said.

But one thing that didn’t change was you not even trying to contact him. Usually, you’d let him contact you first, not wanting to interfere with his work. Even when you were at your most desperate, you would not allow yourself to even text him. 

You figured maybe he needed some space, anyway. The best thing to do was try to find a way to keep your mind fully occupied and away from him. 

Every day, you ran the same course you always took through your neighborhood. You avoided passing by his house, not even wanting to see if his car was there. You also avoided the spot you’d met him at, just in case. Luckily, and also much to your dismay, you never ran into him.

You assumed that meant he was away on a case once more.

And so you dove into your work, often doing overtime. You tried to see your friends more often as well, and you’d let one or two strangers buy you a drink at a bar, but nothing more. The idea of meaningless sex didn’t appeal to you, even if it was a form of escape.

Though most nights, your tremulous, fragile heart would betray you, and you’d lie awake yearning. You’d try to recall the deep, smooth timbre of his voice; The way butterflies would burst in your stomach whenever you made him laugh. The safety of his embrace and the fervor of his kisses…

You wondered if Aaron was ever in the same position, thinking of you. It was doubtful, given his focus had to be elsewhere, on much more important things.

Then one night, you went to a small, local pub with two of your friends, and the sight you met there made you momentarily freeze like a deer in headlights.

Aaron was sitting at one of the round tables with a group of people. You didn’t know any of them, but you assumed they might be colleagues of his. His dark eyes found you mere seconds after, widening a little.

Despite your panic, you couldn’t very well leave after having just gotten there. It would be entirely too suspicious, and your nosey friends would likely cause a minor scene trying to get an answer out of you. 

Plus, you had every right to be there too; It was a public space, after all.

You forced your face to remain a cool mask of indifference, your eyes skating away quickly to avoid giving away that the two of you knew each other. Intimately.

“First round’s on me!” Your friend Julia announced, leading your small group to the bar. 

You could still feel his gaze on you as you slipped onto a barstool, the hairs on the back of your neck standing in awareness. Your skirt rode up a little, revealing more of your thigh, which he did not fail to notice.

But you did not look back at him, trying to pretend that nothing was amiss.

Of course, Julia ordered shots of vodka. The three of you clinked glasses before downing them, and you grimaced a little as it burned its way down your throat. The first drink of the night was always the roughest, but you knew you’d soon feel its languid fire spread through you.

The night would be much easier to bear not being fully sober, you figured.

“We should get you laid tonight,” Phoebe, your other friend, said while playfully elbowing you on the side. “Been a while hasn’t it?”

No, not really.

“I guess…” You offered tentatively. “But I’m fine, really. The chastity belt suits me.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know. You might wanna reconsider. There’s a couple really cute guys here,” Julia said, leaning against the bar. “There’s one that keeps looking over here. And hot damn, that is one fine man.”

You glanced in the direction Julia was looking, and sure enough, you saw Aaron turning away right when your eyes landed on him. 

He looked sharp, as usual, never entirely relaxed even in a place like this. He still wore his tie and slacks, but he’d shed his jacket, draping it on the back of his chair. His hair was perfectly gelled, and you had the sudden urge to run your fingers through it and completely mess it up. 

“That he is,” you agreed, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t suppose either of you wanna play darts with me?”

Both of them shook their heads, apologetic grins on their faces. 

“Sorry babe,” Julia said sheepishly. “We’ll wait for you right here, though.”

You hopped off the stool and made your way over to the dart boards. You weren’t bad at the game, but you weren’t great, either. Still, you liked it because it was fun, and it was a great distraction.

As you threw the first couple of darts, you swayed a little to the music — West End Girls by the Pet Shop Boys was playing. It was one of your favorites.

“Mind if I join you?” A deep, familiar voice said behind you, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked over your shoulder if only to confirm it was him. Your eyes met Aaron’s dark ones, and even if your heart started racing, both of you pretended not to be anything more than strangers.

“Fair warning, though. I can be pretty competitive,” he added, the ghost of a smile on his handsome face.

It was uncharacteristic of him to take such risks. Especially since his team was nearby, but having you so close rendered him helpless. Even you weren’t sure if this was a good idea — considering you were also hurt over how everything went down — but for the time being, you let it slide.

“Maybe,” you smirked just a little. “But you seem like the type that would still let me win.”

From the bar, you could hear a loud wolf-whistle, followed by giggling. You looked over to see your friends smiling knowingly in your direction. Phoebe wagged her eyebrows comically as Julia shot you a thumbs up.

You rolled your eyes playfully, blushing fiercely. Aaron found that an incredibly endearing sight, and his fingers twitched as he fought the need to reach out to you. 

“Are you, um, sure this is okay?” You whispered.

He nodded with a small shrug. “Seeing such a pretty girl as yourself, well, I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. I’m sure that anyone could understand that.”

You huffed a little in amusement. “Just chatting me up is all?”

“I think I’m pretty lucky to just be talking to you.”

You looked back up at him then, and there was something dangerously close to affection in your gaze. There was yearning there too, clear as day.

He felt a pang of guilt. Was this even fair of him? Maybe he was a selfish man, subjecting you to such a confusing push and pull, but he was weak. He’d not lied once when he said he needed you, no matter how long the two of you spent apart.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind since the last time you saw each other. He wondered what you would get up to while he was away, hoping that you were doing well. It was incredibly hard not to reach out to you, to call just to hear your voice.

But he found some solace in the fact that he was doing his part — however small it may seem — to make the world a safer place, especially for you.

“Think you and your friends are gonna need a ride home later?” He asked, lining up his shot before throwing his first dart. “It’d be safer than a cab.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” you said, gazing intently at the look of concentration on his face.

Brows drawing together, eyes narrowing, tongue darting out to absently lick his lips. God, it was unfair how fucking hot he was.

“Why’s that?” He asked.

“Well, I guess for starters… I’m not letting you off the hook that easily this time,” you crossed your arms over your chest, but still trying to keep your posture casual for any onlookers. “And maybe you were right about me. Maybe I do want something more.”

You hadn’t known until that moment that you would finally be putting your foot down, but you were glad that you did.It was either everything or nothing, for the in between was too gruesome to live through.

Truthfully, that'd been on his mind a lot, too. How much he wanted to just cave in and officially make you his. Not being with you made less and less sense to him with each passing day.

Maybe it was the reason he’d stood up from his seat at the table that night, like it was fate.

He stepped to the side to let you throw, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Well, that is a conversation that I want to re-open… if you’re still willing to have it,” he said, letting his eyes rake over you longingly. “And an apology on my part is due. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

You hummed in thought, not ready to relent yet. “Is it the begging kind of apology?” 

“I can beg,” he said quickly. “On my knees and everything.”

“Cheeky,” you shook your head, unable to stop the smile that crept to your lips. “I’ll consider it if you buy me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he said, also smiling. “Is this a bad time to say that you look ravishing when you’re angry at me?”

You glared at him half-heartedly, and he chuckled, making his way to the bar. 

—---------------------------

Of course you caved. You always knew you would, but not too easily. And of course, not yet all the way.

When you finally made it back home – your friends also in the safety of their respective apartments – you didn’t let Aaron get past the foyer. He raised an eyebrow in question, and you crossed your arms over your chest, silently waiting. He took a step forward, almost as if to test you, but you did not waver. 

You glanced down at the floor to clue him, tilting your head to the side in a silent dare to challenge you. Realization crossed his face and slowly, he sank down to his knees. What a marvelous sight he was, his face tilted up towards you, dark brown eyes glittering in the low light. There was hunger in his gaze, yes, as well as devotion. But there was also fear swimming in its depths, the kind you only find if you’re really looking.

You found it, too, in his pursed lips. He understood how precarious the situation was, and he’d probably not have another shot if things didn’t go well. He had to choose his words carefully.

“Something you wanna say?” You prompted, unrelenting.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. For a moment, you wanted to reach out and caress his face, to soothe him, but you promised yourself not to touch him until he begged. 

“I want to say I’m sorry… but sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he started. “I was an absolute fool. I took you for granted, I let my fear and my pride get in the way, and toyed with you in the process. I did not appreciate you nearly as much as I should have… But my ultimate sin was letting you believe I did not care about you other than on a carnal level.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, regret all over his features. You balled your hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking, barely able to breathe.

“Every morning the sun sears the image of you in my mind, and every night your voice plagues my dreams. It feels as though I am losing my mind,” he chuckled a little, shaking his head in disbelief. “And that’s why I’m fucking terrified. What the hell am I supposed to do if something were to happen to you? How the hell am I supposed to go on?”

You inched closer, the need to touch him almost overbearing. Your heart brimmed with an influx of emotions you could barely describe, coursing through you with every rapid beat.

“I’ve admitted that I am a fool, but I am a lovesick fool. So please, if you could find it in you to forgive me, I promise to make it all up to you. Today, tomorrow and everyday.”

“No more secrets? No more games?” You asked, voice low and hopeful.

He nodded eagerly. You extended your hand out to him, and he took it, kissing your knuckles reverently.

“I’m scared, too,” you admitted, not letting go of his hand. “But we cannot control everything, darling mine. To love is to risk heartbreak, you know, but it is a risk I’m more than willing to take if it means I get to be by your side. That’s a choice no one can take from me.”

“So that means you love me?” 

“Yes, and that is why I do forgive you,” you said, bending down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Though I do think the begging really helped. I kinda like seeing you on your knees.”

Both of you chuckled, and you finally let him stand. He dove forward to kiss you feverishly, one hand holding the back of your head while the other snaked around your middle, pressing you flush against him. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling back only to rest his forehead against yours. “And I’m going to spend my days making sure you never forget it.”

[bright-and-burning]

sending you a yapping ask... ofc i know youre a passionate landoscar flag waver but i'm curious about what other ships you like?

oooooooo… honestly might be faster to ask me what ships i don’t like. that is only half a joke… general tier list of ships goes like.

landoscar (my leetle guys… my two sharp toothed sopping wet kittens in a tattered cardboard box that i find half in the gutter behind my apartment…) is like the top most tier. their hold on me is unshakeable.

things i will almost always click on: jendo, markoscar, those two in other interesting configurations, nortrell, nortrell+oscar, maxf + oscar... but ok honestly if a mutual recommends it i will click p much regardless of ship unless it’s one of my few Absolutely Nots akdhskdh

and then i like many Other lando and oscar ships… ill read some loscar, 2019 rookies in various shapes (triangles, sides of triangles, besties), nico r/lando (listen. hear me out. anyone else seen All Those Clips? yeah.). fernando/either of them. i am kind of intrigued by lando/lance which is out of left field i know but ive read a couple fics… i fuck w the vibes… i want to examine the vibes under a microscope… that’s less high up on the list tho bc of the sheer rarity. norstappen sometimes hits but i gotta be in the right mood. uhhhh there’s honestly only like two ships w them that i am Quite Hesitant to click on (like i need it to be written by a trusted mutual, or come recommended by 3+ trusted mutuals, etc) that fall into this category and they’re both w the same guy 😭 sorry 2 that man…

outside of the realm of mclaren slutting it up! pierreste is like . probably on the same level as like jendo and markoscar 2 me. fernando/lance (i accidentally wrote lando here on rhyming autopilot) a centimeter lower. the centimeter there is caused by like . i could write pierreste i don’t think i could write fernando/lance w any sort of realism/good voices involved. but i love seeing them be freaks on the dash. charlos when im in a mood ! the catholicism and religious-tinged devotion of ferrari as themes (and in reality) freaks me out sometimes tho so the stars reaaaally have to align for that. galex as a treat on occasion! logex (or whatever the fuck it’s called. have i mentioned i dislike portmanteaus .) HITSSSSS but rn it makes me Very Sad so. yuki/many people bc i love him but lowkey yuki/liam… chefs kiss ba dum tss. PRINCESS CAKE WHICH I JUST REMEMBERED EXISTS. martian… lots of older ships actually!! brocedes but less frequently for Weird Headspace reasons. who has the tag that’s like “never beating the polycule allegations” that’s for the 2010s grid cuz that’s how i feel abt those ships . mix em all up im sure ill like what comes out.

the “bc of my friends <3” category includes uh. glance, which i will absolutely read when it’s brought to my attention and support the mutuals in their endeavors (including reading + reblogging their fic/web weaves/etc) but tend to kind of . let slip from my mind otherwise. piarles is in that same boat. sebchal a little lower on the “will read” priority list. probably more that i am forgetting; it is very hard for a fic to be something ill Never read (so long as it’s written by a friend at least) it just might take me longer to get around to it

and then there’s the like. i am deeply intrigued but have never delved into them category, which is like. hulk/kmag. valtteri/zhou guanyu. like i see things of them on the dash and im like . wow there is something deeply psychosexual going on here . but have never gone deeper…

lots of the ships i missed are probably more like. i am intrigued (not deeply so) and have read a few fics that made me crazy but never quite caught the bug. there’s maybe . a handful of ships i generally dislike and they’re for very silly reasons mostly lol

[wishtale-blogs]

📣Wish Announcements📣

Ello!! So, since I don’t have an introduction/master post, I will have an announcement post instead!! It’ll work just like an introduction post but with more! It’ll be separated into three sections: events, Q&A, and tags!

Events:

Events works pretty simply, if I’m doing an event or challenge of some sort it’ll be put here so y’all can see what’s happening!

I’m currently hosting a DTIYS!!

Q&A:

Q&A also works pretty simply, if I notice a question is being asked a lot, no shame at all for asking, it’s just being put here so others will know before they ask and I don’t have to repeat myself 10 times lol. (not including in ask games lol)

(Also, while I don’t have any real questions rn as I’m writing this, I will answer some basic questions so y’all can get to know me!)

1). What do you do?

I make art a lot and hope to work on animations soon!

2). Do you take art requests?

Yes!! Unless I make an announcement otherwise, my art requests are always open!! If you have a request send an ask to my side blog @wishtale-art-requests Tho it might take a little bit to finish, especially if there is an event going on, it will be finished as soon as possible!!

3). Are you open to asks?

Yes!! Asks will be answered as soon as I’m available to answer them!!!

4). What characters have you made?

I’m the creator of Wishtale that I currently only have an old ref sheet of Wish! sans (which I haven’t Wishtale worked on in a long while), and Monarch! Sans in the utmv community! And I also have my persona that ironically is also named Wish until I figure out a better name lol!

5). What fandom/s are you a part of?

I’m a part of a lot of different fandoms, but the one I post the most about is utmv, although I do occasionally talk about fnaf, Jujitsu Kaisen, Demon Slayer, and vocaloids!

6). Do you have any other blogs I should be aware about?

Yes!! I have a second blog @wishtale-art!! This is where I post my final drawings, tho wips and other things I don’t want on my art blog will be posted on this blog! I also have a art request blog @wishtale-art-requests

7). What is your sexuality and gender?

I’m a aromatic lesbian who is also agender!!

8). What pronouns do you go by?

I go by any pronouns!! And star/stars/starself neopronouns! (neos are completely optional tho!)

9). When is your birthday?

My birthday is on December 14th!!:3

10). Is there any triggers I should be aware of?

Not really, but smoking and vaping make me uncomfortable (not in drawings, but like when people smoke/vape and encourage it is when I get uncomfortable) and really suggestive things (mostly just when talking to people, it makes me very anxious)

Tags:

Tags are where I’m going to put tags I use often and explain what they are used for!!

#📣wish announcements!📣- used for this post any updates on this post

#wish zoomies- for any post I reblog

#wish rambles- for posts I post that I talk about stuff!

#wish answers- for any asks I answer

#wish’s art- for any reblogs from @wishtale-art or any of my wips or drawings I post on this blog

#wish does polls!!- for any polls I do

#wish is real???- for any posts that have to do with me irl (I keep forgetting I have this tag lol)

#important stuff👆- for any reblog/post that has an important topic!

(I also have a secret vent blog)

Please know that everything on this post is bound to change and be updated with time but I’ll do my best to let y’all know whenever any major changes happen!

Also, I made this as a very late thank you for 326 followers!!! I’m extremely grateful for each and every one of y’all that’s following me!!!<333

[harbinger-of-chaossss]

Master list post

(original links: 1,2)

I keep forgetting to add some sort of bio to my tumblr so my bad if this looks clunky

💥 my name’s MK! I’m trans and ace and my pronouns are he/him ey/em. This blog is just kinda here to spill out any kinda rambling from my brain, or I just post edits n stuff

💥 I’m 18+ (tho I don’t really care who’s on my blog as long as you’re not weird) and this blog has been around since I was… 14 I think? I started as a marvel blog, then ninjago blog (my main username for the longest time was I-stole-jays-pudding-cup) and I keeps changing themes every couple months depending on what my autisms attached to.

(Update: I’m sticking with harbinger-of-chaossss but my prev user was sad-soup-sonic)

💥 turfs will be blocked✨

💥 I post art on here occasionally but don’t have a specific tag for anything so just search #myart on my blog if you want to see anything I’ve made (do NOT repost my art)

💥 You can also find stuff under #MKtalks:P but that’s basically just rambling

💥 If you wanna ask me anything or send stuff my asks and DM’s are always open✉️✨(I currently have 9 asks but only one is visible?? so if I don’t respond after a week or so assume tumblr ate it)

I would link stuff I made in this section but I haven’t really posted any AU’s or fic’s😅

And the list of fandoms I’ve been in feels long so I’m putting it under here incase anyone actually wants to read it:

In alphabetical order

Aphmau

AvA stickmen

ducktales

Fool’s gold (D&D)

Good omens

Hellovaboss

Mao Mao hero’s of pure heart

Marvle

Minecraft story mode

Monkie kid

Murderdrones

Ninjago

Object fandom

ROTTNMT

Solarballs

Sonic the hedgehog

Splatoon

The last of us

The owl house

+DEFINITELY MORE

[cdroloisms]

do i even wanna know what the 7y!wilbur au is

my tag for seven years AU is right here -- there's a lot that's been uh gatekept a little bit but it's an AU i have with bubbles @judgehangman that's well . it's funny it's fucked up it's canon a little bit to the left but also upside down. feel free to ask me abt it any time tho i am ALWAYS always down to talk about AUs always they just run around in my head all day

here's a post outlining the timeline of major events -- it's a bit scuffed, i did the math really quickly, but it gets the job done. and here's an ask bubbles answered about the original situation that created this whole thing in the first place.

the tl;dr of the 7y AU has a lot to do with the stupid nonsense that is traditional for this fandom. Basically, based on something cc!wilbur said about how he originally envisioned the ages of different characters in L'manburg way back in ye olden days of uhh honestly i forget--2021, i think, cc!Wilbur had commented on how in his original envisonment of L'manburg, c!Wilbur was in his early 30s, c!Fundy was 14, and c!Tommy and c!Tubbo were both around 20. Of course, the fandom being the fandom, they took the math of "c!Fundy is 14" to backdate c!Tommy as being nine during the L'manburg war of independence, and this was naturally used to create all sorts of c!tommy angst yadayadayada (while somehow everyone managed to forget that uh if this timeline holds true then ? it would also apply to the rest of the characters that Aren't L'manburg????)

it turned into this thing where people would say "tommy was NINE in the l'manburg revolution and he was BRUTALLY SLAUGHTERED by dream smp the TRAUMA" etc and that in itself led to "tommy was nine" being a bit of a meme. of course, being the way that i am, i started down a rabbit hole of taking "tommy was nine" to its logical extreme--and you know, sooner or later bubbles and i ended up with this monstrosity and its like five branching alternate timelines, awesome

the basic premise of the AU is very, very simple. tommy was nine during the revolution, dream was 14, wilbur was 25. the events on the dream smp that take place between wilbur's joining the server and creating the drug van to november 16th, a space of a few months irl, all end up being spread out over seven years of time in this AU--hence its name. bc of the nature of its creation it's an AU with an interesting relationship with both fanon and canon, playing off of and taking elements from both in interesting ways. and also there's c!dreambur.

it's fun :)