#that man is just as insane as Medic. He just doesn’t show it as much outwardly

[gravitytrips]

You are so right.

massive amount of tags below but have some good thoughts

We’ve all heard the “Scout gets too much attention” rants in the fandom but I also want to say: Scout gets too much hate.

Like, he’s decidedly NOT a coward. I have no idea where people get that from. His entire backstory is that he got fast to that he could run into danger before the fight ended. He’s got voice lines pleading for his life, but every character has voice lines where they’re weak or losing.

He’s also not that annoying to anyone but Spy (besides the people he’s killing). I’m easier on this though because it comes from gameplay habits.

Also, Scout is strong. Maybe not physically, and certainly not as much as the rest of the team, but he’s quick, acrobatic, and whip smart about surroundings. He did single handedly take on a Heavy. Sure, it was his meet-the and everyone is overpowered but still. He puts up a fight. (My favorite subversive moment of the ‘scout gets wreaked by everyone automatically’ is in Mann Swap where we see him use his skillset to match with heavy’s strength.)

It’s hilarious to punch the punching bag, ofc. But Scout is my least favorite of the main nine and it still kills me to see him in “serious” tf2 fan media with only his joke traits.

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch7. if u wanna get groceries

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

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

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

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

ᰔ chapter. 7/x

ᰔ words. 10.3k

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

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Ovulation is a very scary thing.

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

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

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

Only to be dragged back by–

You shudder to even mention.

Attraction to a man. 

So horrible.

So insane.

So humiliating.

And yet so–...

So natural.

Unfortunately.

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

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

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

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

Sex.

When was the last time you had sex?

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

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

And God, it was showing.

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

Maybe it will help.

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

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

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

“Fuck me,” you tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Umm no promises?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey–” he says, like a warning. 

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

Before the doorbell rings. 

You both blink at each other.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve gotta go sign the delivery.

“Okay.”

“Sometime today, preferably.”

“Alright.”

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

“...I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

“You woodwork?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” You blink at him.

“Don’t want you getting hurt.”

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

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

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

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

You nod at him.

He glances over at you. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

“Did–...did you wanna watch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morning tea

Medications- Gabapentin 600 300

Today is Thursday. Oct 16th

800 432 5555 call Dr Johnson 

Turn off the stove

At the very bottom:

- daughter. Nurse. She loves you

You suck a deep breath in, releasing it slowly.

This was an impossible task.

To stuff all of this away into boxes. 

All of this life.

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

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

remember ! wear your sweater, it’s cold today

And that’s when you start crying. 

.

.

.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

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

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

“What errands?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“You’re a traitor.”

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

“Can I come?”

“What? For–...for the errands?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that make me your prince?”

“No. You’re my filthy peasant.”

“Alright…I like where this is going…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said that.”

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

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

“Ah,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a puzzled look.

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

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

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

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

“y/n?”

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

The opposite, actually.

Nightmares.

You hear that voice in your nightmares.

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

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

“I’m buying fruit.”

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

“As usual?”

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

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

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

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

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

“This is my new go-to grocery store.”

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

His shoulders sulk slightly at that.

Oh.

Oh.

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

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

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

“Choso—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jealous?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it wood-burning?” you ask Gojo.

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

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

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

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

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

“About fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, they’re a little old.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

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

“Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New york city,” he easily tells you.

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

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Really long.”

“Mm. You don’t seem like it.”

“Like what? An asshole from the city?”

“Mhm. Just a regular asshole.”

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

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

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

“Oh?” you say, “like what? Where?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort.

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

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

"Try a hundred-and-fifty thousand."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeahhh. Something like that."

"Mm," you hum.

"Y’know, I was on HGTV once."

"What?! There's no way."

"Yup. House hunters."

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

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

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

He gives you an irritated side eye.

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

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

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

He gives you another irritated side eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. "I'm just teasing."

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

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

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

"Why are you asking me for permission?"

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you whisper. 

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

Only a dream. 

.

.

.

.

.

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

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

a/n. thanks so much for reading! this was a fun chapter to write, especially the house sequence. i think it’s mentioned in the chapter somewhere, but yeah…i just think there’s something so romantic and melancholic about a home :’’) i guess that’s a recurring theme in ihm, with reader’s childhood home holding the memories that her mother has lost of her, and then ihm gojo losing his parents to a destructive house fire, and also him being a realtor, and also reader planning to sell her house, and then the dream house in this chapter. it’s been fun breathing a bit of life into these different settings themselves. ah i also decided i want to include little “song(s) of the chapter” to the end of these! just as something kinda fun to do. i’d say these are songs that inspired me to write certain scenes within the chapter, or songs that i listened to a lot while writing the chapter, or songs i could picture playing during the ending credits if this were a tv show xd. but yeahhh!! also just a way to share music bc i love music lol. 

i was asked by an anon to provide some reference photos for the dream house at the end and i shared some here big thank you to my beta readers mirl, leni, and ayelin for helping me out w parts of this chapter n giving me motivation to write it <33 i appreciate you guys sososo much!! i really attribute a lot of my writing motivation towards them, as i’ve been really busy but been able to write these lengthy chapters bc of their support.  i did kinda rush parts of this chapter just because i wanted to get it out on the weekend, so i apologize if there are errors or mistakes of if anything’s a little confusing or sudden. tbh i did want to spend a tiny bit more time on it but, that’s ok. fuck it we ball also! i just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my readers and those that have stuck around for so long with me or maybe newer readers who have interacted or become invested w my works recently… i know that i am so slow w updates and sometimes inconsistent w it as well, life just gets so crazy for me and it’s a struggle to find proper time to sit down and write, and i wish soooo badly to put out chapters faster, but yea easier said than done haha. but all of my readers who continue to engage with lil ol’ me even despite all of that really means a lot to me, more than i can say :”) i still face self doubts so often w my writing, i’m halfway convinced i’ll never be satisfied w my craft, but the little interactions i have w everyone really make my day and push me forward to write even when it’s hard and i realized i haven’t really said a proper thank u to u guys for that as of late. plus i know jjk manga has ended and also i took a hiatus n also tumblr has lowkey been fuckin me over on the algorithm too lol etc etc i definitely have noticed i’ve lost some readers n engagement along the way, which i understand is natural n just a part of being a long fic author however daunting that may be, but i just really wanted to say a thank you to those who continue to be here irrespective of all of that. i appreciate everyone who sees value in my works enough to read them, follow up w them, interact w them, share them, like them etc. especially w ihm bc sometimes i feel so bad for the slow burn and the yap haha i’m sure some of you may be privy to the fact by now that this story will be very long and also so much more than just the romance. but…i find confidence from you all to follow my vision and i’m really grateful for that.  very likely that the next chapter is in ihm gojo’s pov :0 very exciting and makes me a lil nervous. for some reason i find his pov somewhat intimidating to write for loool. but hopefully i’ll pull it off.

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

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[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Epilogue: Part One [Boulevard of Broken Dreams]

Summary: You received a call you and Bradley Bradshaw have been waiting on for what felt like a decade. Jakes mother causes a scene as worry consumes you. And does Jake want the very thing that put him in the hospital in the first place?

Warnings: Jake Seresin Whump. Mentions of Religion. F!reader x Jake Seresin. Angst, Mother-in-law issues. F-18 crash. Bad Medical representation.

Word Count: 6.2k

Author Note: EEEPPPPP we're almost there. this is the chapter EVERYONE has been waiting for. Just what the hell is going on! Please don't forget to let me know what you think.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

December 23rd 

Your genetic makeup, the genes that you inherit from your parents, determines who you are biologically. They’re your blueprint so to speak. Everything from your eye colour to your height to your laugh. Even some diseases like asthma, diabetes, and various cancers. 

But who you are at the core of it all goes far beyond your genetic makeup. Who you really are is the result of many, many things: How you deal with fear. Who you surround yourself with. And how you show up when it matters most. 

The sea breeze was a gentle reminder of how quickly life could change in the blink of an eye. As you walked along the sand with small, barely there waves lapping at your ankles, the sight of families running after beach umbrellas and holding down sandy towels after the sudden gust of wind came through and caused a disturbance, really made you smile. Smiles were a treasure that was few and far between. It had been for months. 

The somewhat sunny day was shrouded in the unknown. Chronic winds continued to wreak havoc on unsuspecting families just trying to enjoy their weekend. A storm was brewing off the coast. But for you, something much more life-altering was wreaking havoc. Something all-encompassing and certifiably depressing was eating away at your soul. 

Your boyfriend and the love of your life had been severely injured in a work accident just over two months ago. His mother is certifiably insane and clearly doesn’t like you even existing on the same planet as her son… and his best friend hasn’t left you alone in what felt like a century. 

But who were you to compare tragedies on this fine, sunny day? 

“There you are!” The second you heard that agitating, grading voice, you rolled your eyes so hard you could have fallen into the shallows. The flightless bird you knew as Bradley Bradshaw was racing after you, making his presence known along the shore as he ran to catch up. “God, you had me worried for a second there. I was talking to Sue for like five seconds and you were just gone.” 

“Some bodyguard you are,” you huffed as Bradley finally caught up to you. It wasn’t that you didn't like Rooster, it was more about the fact he felt obligated to keep an eye on you given the circumstances. “How is Sue anyway?” 

“Uh–” Bradley looked back over his shoulder hesitantly to see the woman he’d been dating for the last few weeks walking away. “I don’t think we'll be seeing Sue much anymore.” It was all the explanation you needed. And if you were to be completely honest you didn’t blame the women. Who wants to fight for attention with a man whose sole responsibility these days was to keep his best friend's unborn children safe? 

“You should be paying more attention to the women you’re trying to sleep with you know,” you replied as you kept walking down the pristine beach. The place that had become a home away from home. “I’ve told you, I don’t need a babysitter. We’re good, I promise.” 

It had been an unspoken understanding since meeting Jake’s wingman that Rooster would look after you if anything were ever to happen to Jake. It went both ways for the two aviators from hell. Although at times the pair couldn’t be in the same room as one another without starting World War Three, it was a given that they would always be there for the other’s loved ones. It was brotherhood in its finest and rawest form. 

But it was driving you mad. 

“Jake wouldn’t–” Bradley tried to explain, but you’d heard this explanation too many times by this point. So much so you could finish Rooster’s sentence for him. 

“‘Jake wouldn’t forgive you if something were to happen to me’, I know I know,” you huffed again. Your right hand came down to rest across your growing bump. Two little souls were currently using your internal system as their personal development grove. Two little Seresin babies that were as unexpected as they were blessed— or at least, to you. “But you– for as much as I appreciate everything you have and will continue to do for us Rooster– are driving me insane.” 

“Too bad,” couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you into his side. His arm slung over your shoulders before you could even protest his actions. “You’re Jake’s girl and Jake’s not here so therefore I gotta do what I gotta do and that my dear Y/n–” Bradley paused for a second before he continued just like the small waves that lapped at your ankles. Fear threatened to overcome Rooster’s nervous system. Yet, fending off fight or flight mode, he continued. Playing the role you needed him to be: Caregiver brick wall extraordinaire. “---Is to be right here, by your side, until that idiot wakes up.” 

They say time heals most wounds. And for the majority of people that saying is pretty spot on. But for Jake Seresin, that hadn’t been the case. Jake had been in an induced coma for weeks after his near-death accident. The experienced aviator was no match for the panic attack that took him hostage mid-training exercise. His body currently lay battered, burnt and bruised in the Miramar Base Hospital in the intensive care unit. His soul remained trapped inside the mind you sometimes hated to love and loved to hate. 

And when Doctors tried to wake him from the state they’d put him into in order to heal…he didn’t wake up. 

That was back in November…It was now approaching Christmas Day and still, there was no sign of Jake waking from his coma. He’d battled and fought what seemed like everything the world could throw at him: Broken bones. Third-degree burns. A swollen brain. Organ damage. Pneumonia. You name it and Jake had battled it. 

He was a fighter. Someone who was going to fight until he had nothing left. Doctors assured you there was brain activity. A good indication of a recovery.

But when he would wake was entirely up to him…

“Some idiot huh?” you teased playfully at your boyfriend’s expense. But the reality of the situation was that with every passing day, with every complication or turn of events, you missed Jake more and more. “He’s coming out the other side of the phenomena though, which is a good sign.” 

Bradley walked by your side as the two of you debriefed about what the day would bring. First, you needed to shower and change into something that wasn’t kissed by the salty air of the beach you liked to walk along every morning. It helped you clear your head from all the noise. Since Jake’s accident, your head hadn’t been quiet. Voices echoed all day long inside your mind about what you could be doing better, more of. What you could have done differently.

Sometimes those voices would grow louder and stronger the longer you tried to avoid them. However, averting your gaze and pretending the voices didn’t exist was a harder task than first thought…especially when the voices that escaped your mind were coming from Jake’s mother. 

That self-proclaimed holier than thou mother fu—

Next, you needed to eat something. You hadn’t had much of an appetite your entire pregnancy. Bradley liked to think it was because of the additional stress Jake’s hospitalisation had caused. You knew he’d say something if you didn’t at least try to consume something of substance. 

And finally, to you, the most important part of the list of to-do’s, was to get over to Miramar Base Hospital and see the man who’d captivated your entire heart. The goal every day besides growing two human lives was to be by Jake's side. 

Even if at the end of the day the result of all this turmoil and trauma was a breakup you knew his mother was already actively praying for, you’d still be able to say you weren’t the one who walked away. 

“Come on,” Bradley gently placed his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure Jake’s waiting for us.”

“His mother will be there,” you said without hesitation. There was a frustrated sadness in your voice. A longing for privacy. A declaration for peace. You knew Bradley was aware of the hostile relationship between the two of you, he'd been present for a few altercations. But you also knew he was right and Jake would want you there if you could be.  And it was a could-be day. For both you and Rooster. “I was thinking maybe we could go a little later in the day, give her some time alone–”

“Y/n?” 

Yeah?” You knew what was coming, it felt like the two of you had had this same exact conversation every day for the past four weeks. 

“You’re the mother of Jake’s soon-to-be twins. He’d want you there more than Janise.” 

“It’s Janeen, Roo,” you grinned to yourself as you looked down at your growing bump with a loving hand resting over your belly button. “And Hell would probably freeze over before she realises that.” 

“I thought you weren’t a religious person?” Rooster frowned momentarily as he searched his brain for any conversational remarks he may have missed in passing that would have led him to forget your religious values. He wasn’t a God-loving man himself, but there had to be something out there, right?

“I’m not.” You had never followed a religion or its practices, but the longer the love of your life remained in a coma after sustaining life-threatening injuries, the more you were open to whatever religious being extended a helping hand first. Including but not limited to Satan. You’d sell your soul in a heartbreak to bring Jake back. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?” 

Your non-religious self-awareness was the deciding factor when it came to Janeen not accepting you. Ever since Jake had brought you home to his parents one winter break back in your college days, you knew it was a battle not worth fighting. 

You were the girl who got away. The rogue agent. The true crime writer with an appetite for knowledge and literature. Jake was the aspiring college football star turned Naval Aviator. 

Jake broke it off in the spring before he went to basic. You wanted roots and stability he at the time couldn’t offer. He was off to see the world and the world would be his oyster. You couldn’t stand in the way of that no matter how much you believed Jake Seresin was the one for you. 

You knew Janeen was over the moon with joy and delight that her precious boy had come home to his faith and exiled the woman who was leading him down a road of treacherous sin. 

Get the fuck outta here. 

It wasn’t until about a year or so ago that you and Jake reconnected after he’d come back from a mission that had him staring death right in the face and questioning what he had to look back on. 

All he saw was you in that library at college smiling across at him while explaining that Christmas was fake. Something his mother would have burnt him at the stake for believing. 

So, Jake called. And like a love-sick loser, you came running from across the country. Rhode Island was your home, but wherever Jake Seresin was in the world was where your heart would be. 

“I bet she cries herself to sleep at night more over the fact you and Hangman are having children out of wedlock than she cries over the fact he nearly died,” Bradley growled. 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” you replied as a gust of wind picked up a beach umbrella in the distance. “I’m something straight out of the book of the damned, Bradshaw. The idea of us having a child together, let alone twins, took twenty years off her life.” 

“Jake would have loved to see her face when you told her,” Bradley chuckled. Then he cleared his throat and did his best to steer the conversation back on track. “We still have to go to the hospital.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. “Fine, but you’re taking me to get a muffin from Bells Bakery first,” you said all the while Rooster rolled his eyes. You knew he couldn’t say no. How do you say no to a pregnant lady who just wants a sweet little treat before spending hours in the same room as your comatose boyfriend and his overbearingly religious mother? You don’t. You don’t say no, you simply nod in agreement. 

*************************

Every disease has its unique course it takes in the body when left untreated. The process begins with exposure to a root cause that sends a ripple effect throughout the body. The disease then progresses, ultimately resolving in one of three possible outcomes…

You get better, you stay chronically ill, or you die. 

The weather had taken a drastic turn since you and Rooster left the beach earlier that morning. The slightly overcast and windy day brought in a nice north-easterly storm. Rain was the only thing that filled the silence as you sat waiting patiently. You caught yourself thinking of what you’d give to hear Jake’s voice before the new year. 

The carefully cultivated interior design of Bradley’s Bronco was something straight out of every single bachelor’s wet dream. This car was what you expected the inside of his soul to look like. And if you were to ever become anything like Jake’s Mother, you’d think this car would be Bradley’s version of a perfect heaven. 

Then, like a premonition, your phone rang, splitting the quiet like lightning through a dark sky. 

"Hi, Y/n,” Doctor Hughes sounded rather cheerful as you sat in the passenger seat of Bradley’s Bronco. 

“It appears that our dear friend is waking up," his voice was urgent but steady. For a moment, your mind stumbles, caught between disbelief and hope. Then you’re moving — grabbing keys, kicking on your sandals, heart pounding louder than an engine roaring to life.

“Rooster?” you whispered as you clambered out of the parked Bronco. The curb hated to see a Bradshaw coming. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!” You awkwardly spoke into your phone before hanging up without hesitation. There was no time to waste on small talk. Jake was waking up. 

The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow as you walked as fast as you could, each passing second stretched thin by desperation. Memories flashed — hospital visits, whispered promises, tear-soaked prayers, or whatever bullshit Jake’s mother insisted on mumbling. 

“Rooster!?” you yelled as panic, fear, and anxiety overcame your nervous system. “Bradshaw?” you yelled once more as you entered the small locally owned bakery..

“Hey, what’s wrong? I just ordered a coffee to go and your apple cinnamon muffin.,” Rooster could tell by the look on your face and how sickly you looked that something had happened. “Is the Bronco okay?” 

The fact that was the first thing his mind jumped to angered you to no end. “Yes, the fucking Bronco is fine, you idiot,” you sighed as your belly felt heavy with two Seresin children, a nervous shit, and impending vomit. “Jake’s waking up.”

“No way, who called?” Bradley kicked into fifth gear before your eyes as he ushered you out of the cafe without his coffee or your muffin. 

“Rooster, our order?” you protested as he barrelled out of the cafe with your shoulders in his hands. “Hold up!” 

“We gotta go, you wanna be there when he wakes up, don’t you?” Rooster asked, thinking the answer you’d give him would be a straight-up “yes”. There shouldn’t have been any other answer. But the longer you stood still not answering, Bradley knew something was eating away at you. “Y/n, why are you being weird about this? He’s okay, everything’s gonna be alright.” 

“What if he doesn’t want this?” your eyes welled with tears in the middle of the walkway. “What if he doesn’t want me? What if…what if he doesn’t want the ki–our kids?” 

Surgical intervention doesn’t always work when it comes to disease. Sometimes, despite best efforts, the disease wins. It takes over our cells one-by-one…until the damage can no longer be reversed. When that happens, all you can do is take the loss and move on. But when you can change the course of someone’s disease, you can change the course of their life. It’s enough to make you want to come back for more. 

“Oh, Y/n, no,” Bradley cooed as he drew you in for a much-needed hug. “Jake’s a lot of things, and he’s done a lot of stupid things, but giving you up all those years ago was his biggest mistake,” Rooster reminded you as the tears you cried stained his T-shirt. Your face was buried in his chest. A chest that had soaked up far too many of your tears these last few weeks. “I know there’s a lot of unknowns, but if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that Jake’s never gonna let you guys go. I promise you.”

“He didn’t want the baby before he–” You couldn’t finish your sentence without breaking out into an all-out wail. Bradley held you tighter than he ever had before. He didn’t know what you hadn’t told him. And what you hadn’t told him was the whole truth…

The whole truth was that Jake’s accident had been your fault. Or so it felt like it. 

“Hey, hey, you’re good,” Rooster tried his best to soothe your soul all the while the lady who’d taken his order before kindly brought it out. He was sure to thank her silently over your shoulder as she placed the muffin in its brown paper bag and his takeaway coffee on the bench. “Whatever happened before all this, I’m sure it’s gonna work out. Jake loves you so much,” Rooster beamed as he rubbed your back. “He’s not letting you or these kiddos go.” 

**********************

As the Bronco sped down the rain-slick streets, tires hissing against the wet pavement, Bradley’s hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as possible. His knuckles were white with tension. You sat anxiously in the passenger seat, phone clenched tightly in your hands, replaying the call from Dr. Hughes in your mind over and over again like a broken Rolexes that held only one memory. 

"It appears that our dear friend is waking up,” Jensen Hughes, Jake’s primary doctor who had been with him since the first day he was brought into the hospital, had said. The words echoed in your head, filling your mind, body, and soul with equal parts hope and fear.

"We’re almost there," Bradley muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. His best friend was waking up from a coma he never really thought he’d come out of. He’d been looking after you and his unborn children since the accident. Jake had missed so much and nothing all at the same time. 

"He’s strong. He’s been fighting this whole time." You reached over, resting a hand on his arm. Bradley nodded in return but didn’t speak. The memories of countless nights spent at Jake’s bedside haunted you both. Each mile seemed endless, stretched by the weight of anticipation.

The hospital's glowing sign finally appeared through the rain-streaked windshield. Bradley exhaled sharply, parking the car with a jerky halt. Without another word, you both dashed toward the entrance, hearts pounding, ready to see Jake — ready to hope again. 

**********************

The elevator doors opened with a subdued ding as you and Rooster stepped into the hushed hospital hallway. The dim overhead lights cast a pale glow, reflecting off the sterile white walls. Neither of you spoke as you walked toward Jake’s room. Both too anxious to say anything that could jeopardise this significant moment in Jake’s recovery. 

As you approached the familiar door, you hesitated. Your breath hitched in your throat. Bradley gently squeezed your hand, grounding you in the moment. You felt like you were going to be sick. Your twins pressed on every vital organ they had shoved to whatever side they could to make room for themselves. Here you were, Jake Seresin’s pregnant girlfriend, about to see him awake for the first time in what felt like a decade. Rounding the final corner, you saw the familiar door, slightly ajar, light spilling into the hallway. For a moment, neither of you moved, overwhelmed by hope and fear intertwined.

"We’re here," Bradley whispered, his voice steady though his eyes betrayed the weight of his worry.

As you pushed the door open, you were met with the soft beeping of the heart monitor and the steady whoosh of the ventilator. Jake lay still, his face pale but peaceful, lost in the depths of his coma. His mind was a world away, carried off into the subconscious. His body was the only remaining evidence to suggest he was still with you. 

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as you stepped closer. Why were you expecting him to be awake and alert? Wishing thinking once again overcomplicated your usually realistic outlook on how things worked in this world. Perhaps it had been the way Doctor Hughes spoke to you on the phone. Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that allowed for more hopeful endings. Either way, neither explanation added up to the expectation you had set. 

"Hey, Jake... it’s us," you whispered, voice trembling. Bradley pulled a chair close and ushered you to sit beside the bed. 

"We’re not going anywhere," he said firmly. "You hear me? We’re right here." Resting a hand on Jake’s forearm, Rooster was quick to let his wingman know he was there. The room remained silent except for the rhythmic beeping, but neither of you moved, holding onto hope with every passing second. 

“We heard what you’ve been up to while we’ve been gone, baby,” you cooed softly as you stroked Jake’s cheek gently, taking in the sight of his peacefully unaware self. “And we don’t plan on going anywhere until we get to see those beautiful eyes of yours.” 

“What’s going on here?” The familiar voice made your heart sink into your stomach as you tried to get as comfortable as you could in the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. Janeen stood in the doorway with a fresh coffee from the cafe downstairs in her aging hand. Her nails, manicured to perfection, clutched around the paper cup so much so that you swore the scolding hot liquid would burst through the weakened structure. “Did something happen? Why the urgency to not go anywhere?” 

“Did–” you paused for a second as you allowed yourself to sink a little further into your chair with a protective hand strewn across your ever-growing baby bump. “Did anyone call you?” 

“Why would anyone call me when I’m already here, silly girl.” Janeen scoffed as she walked further into Jake’s room. A room that had been his for weeks. A room that your mother had helped you decorate with Christmas lights and decorations as the season approached with every passing day. A bleak, barren hospital room was no place for a soul full of such joy and fun and high-octane energy. Jake deserved more than white walls and sterile floors. 

“Right, my bad for asking,” you sighed as Rooster rolled his eyes discreetly and tried to hide his disdain for his best friend’s mother. A mother he knew Jake wasn’t so fond of either. Especially when it came to you. 

“Jane!” Rooster beamed as he broke the tension. “Long time no see. How long has it been?” Bradley smiled as he shot you a cheeky look of mischief. This was who Rooster was at his very core. A shit-stirring moustache-having gold star kid. The best there was. He’d been a rock for you during this whole ordeal. There had never been a moment these past few months where you hadn’t been able to cry on Rooster’s shoulder or vent to him in full confidence that everything you said would stay with him and only him. 

“I saw you yesterday, son,” Janeen replied sternly, not a single hint of amusement in her tone. Yet, Rooster continued with his antics. He knew well enough by now to know if he kept going, Janeen would cut you some slack. Rooster had been an on-and-off fixture in the Seresin household for years. Ever since Jake and Bradley met in the academy. And boy did Janeen Seresin have a soft spot for the man who grew up without parents or any sort of guiding light. She saw real potential in the Bradshaw kid. If he just applied himself to God, he could be one of his finest soldiers. 

“Really? I’d never forget seeing you! Are you sure it was yesterday? I heard dementia is kinda contagious in these sorts of environments,” Bradley grinned as he pulled the shorter, aging woman with that signature older mother smell into him for a hug. He was sure to send you a wink over her head. 

You had to stuff the boisterous laugh that threatened to spill from your mouth right back down into the depths of your stomach before World War Three could erupt right here in Jake’s hospital room. To be perfectly honest though, you wouldn’t be opposed to that diagnosis. Perhaps then you’d have somewhat of a chance at developing some sort of relationship with the grandmother of your children. Even if each and every day brought a new personality and memory bank. Oh, a girl could dream. 

“Y/n, be a dear and get me a chair will you?” If you weren’t already sitting down, you would have fallen over with shock. 

“Oh, I can do that,” Bradley quickly jumped into action, not wanting you to get up. “I’ll go get you one, I’ll be right back.” He grinned at Janeen before sending you a worrying look of concern. A look that didn’t necessarily look the best on him. “Don’t–just don’t kill each other while I’m gone, alright?” 

“Scouts honour,” you held your hand up as if you were swearing on the bible. Something you’d never actually do. But as Janeen looked over at where you were sitting, she nodded in agreement. 

“Right, I’ll be right back,” Bradley groaned hesitantly as he left the room. Leaving an unconscious and comatose Jake to fend for himself. “Sorry pal, she’s your mother,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head and continued out of sight. The second Rooster was gone…it was on for young and old. 

“I’ve organised a paternity test for when you have the babies–” Janeen informed you like it wasn’t the worst insult you’d ever heard.  

“Excuse me?” you replied rather harshly as you sat up in your chair. In what world would these not be Jake’s children? How was this happening right now? How was she doing this when Jake was slowly waking up from his endless sleep? 

“You heard me,” Jeneen smirked. “I need to protect my son,” For a woman who preached about being God’s seeing eye, she really was doing the devil’s work. 

“Your son should have listened in sex-ed a little more.” You knew even the mention of sex would have Janeen’s skin crawling. Sex out of wedlock! How dare you, how would you ever be cleansed of your sins? “Are you being serious right now Janeen?” 

“I almost lost him once!” Jake’s mother raised her voice as she stepped closer to his bedside, taking in the sight of her grown, adult child. “I’m not losing him again and certainly not to some wannabe writer who wants to live off my son’s achievements.” 

“Almost doesn’t matter because almost never happened,” you made sure to say before you went on to unleash a declaration of war against your not-so-mother-in-law. “But I can guarantee if you try and destroy this family before it has a chance to grow, so help whatever God you believe in bitch…I’ll burn your entire life to the ground and smile when I watch the millions of dollars you put into that ranch burn too.”  

“You vindictive girl.” Janeen had nothing else to say from the other side of Jake’s hospital bed. 

“Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours.” It was the only warning you were ever going to give. 

“He’s my son!” Janeen shouted as Bradley made his wake back down the hall with a chair in hand. 

“And he’s my hu–” 

You couldn’t finish your sentence. With so many hormones and emotions coursing through your veins, you slipped. Jake wasn’t your husband. He wasn’t your fiance. He was your boyfriend. And for as much as you wanted to marry the man lying in that hospital bed after nearly losing his life, you knew that question was far from being asked. If it were ever to be asked. Jake Seresin had grown up watching his parents hate each other…he’d made it clear marriage was something he wasn’t interested in. Why would he be when he spent his childhood listening to his mother beg his father to fix some stupid faucet that never did get fixed? 

Why would Jake ever be interested in marriage when he could remember the intervention his grandfather gave his dad at their wedding, something about it wasn’t too late to back out. Hell, why would Jake be interested in marriage when he watched his father fall out of love so hard with his mother that she never really clued him in on her battle with breast cancer? Jake grew up under the guidance of God and his almighty word…

But the way his father had treated his mother throughout Jake’s life had truly left a sour taste in his mouth. And if Jake, through biological design, was anything like his dad…he was never going to put himself in a position where he could emulate any sort of resemblance to his father. 

Trauma am I right? (He’d told you so much about his childhood.) 

“Honey, you’re nothing more than an incubator,” Janeen hissed with a wicked smirk plastered across her face. “He’s my son, and my son knows better than to allow himself to stoop as low as ending up with someone like you.” 

“I thought I told you two not to kill each other?” Rooster tried to intervene as he placed the chair down beside where Janeen stood. He’s never seen you look so worked up. So angry. So hurt. 

“Janeen.” You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes. “When I have these children, Jake’s children, if I have it my way you will never see them. You will never get to know them do you hear me? No God or religion or wackadoodle fucking beliefs you have will ever help you have a relationship with my children because if you can’t look me in the fucking eye and see what your son sees in me then I’m not entertaining any sort of relationship with you.” 

“If they’re really my grandbabies then you can’t keep them from seeing their family–” 

“She’s their mother, Jane, I don’t think you have much say in the matter,” Rooster sided with you as politely as he could. He wasn’t going to be the one to point out that Jake's fingers were twitching either. 

“Better start praying really hard Janeen,” you chuckled, knowing that although you didn’t win this battle, you’d win the war. “Maybe Rooster will bring back a pillow for your knees,” you teased, a little out of line but it was so worth the look of horror on her face. “You’ll be on them for a hell of a long time.” 

**********************

The roar of twin afterburners pierced the sky as Jake pushed his F-18 Super Hornet through a steep climb. The clear blue expanse stretched endlessly above, the ground a distant memory. This was his element—a place where skill and instinct defined survival. Still, the only thing on his mind when he should have been focusing on controlling a multimillion-dollar piece of military equipment was you. You were pregnant. Jake was going to be a father. 

He should have listened to you when you said the two of you could talk about it after he got home from work. He never should have pressed you for more information. But Jake had and the second the words came out of your mouth, he heard nothing else after the words “I’m pregnant Jake–we’re gonna have a baby.” 

He wasn’t ready to be a dad. A father. Being a dad was the last thing Jake thought he should ever be. He wasn’t raised to procreate. He shouldn’t be responsible for another human being. If Jake was even an ounce like his own father, that kid, that poor fetus growing inside you as he raced through the sky, was about to have one hell of a childhood. It wasn’t even just having a baby that terrified him. How was Jake meant to teach this kid right from wrong when he was still learning that himself? 

“What if I told you that I wasn’t sure if I wanted kids, but I want you?” Jake knew the second that the question left his lips…that it hadn’t come out the way it should have. But the reality was he had said it, and the look in your hopeful eyes quickly shattered and was replaced with a reluctance to continue with the conversation. 

Self-doubt radiated off Jake like his life force was fading. Today's training was a high-intensity combat simulation over the rugged terrain of Redstone Valley. Jake and Rooster were executing advanced dogfighting maneuvers against an elite training squadron. Every turn, every roll, every burst of speed was a calculated dance of power and precision.

"Bandit on your six!" Bradshaw’s urgent voice crackled through Jake's headset. 

His wingman had questioned him earlier in the day about what had him so uptight. Jake hadn’t been himself today, he knew that much for sure. But that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the very fact you were pregnant with his child. A child created out of love and endless passion. But that wasn’t enough to make Jake want to be a father after being so sure for so many of his adult years that he wasn’t supposed to be a father. “Hangman! Get your arse into gear man!” 

Jake yanked the stick hard left, pulling into a sharp barrel roll. The G-forces slammed him into his seat as he broke away, narrowly avoiding the pursuing jet's simulated missile lock. His pulse raced, his adrenaline surged as his heart beat against his cheat so hard he swore he was having a heart attack… 

Suddenly, the cockpit warning system blared—a mechanical shriek of impending doom. "ENGINE FAILURE—LEFT ENGINE!" flashed across the Heads-Up Display.

"Mayday, mayday, this is Viper One, experiencing critical engine failure. Attempting emergency procedures," Jake radioed, his voice steady despite the rising tension. The heart attack he swore he was having was a full-blown panic attack. Jake couldn’t catch his breath long enough to maintain focus. “Fuck, Rooster! I’m going down! Mayday–mayday!” Children’s laughter filled the cockpit as Jake spiralled out of control. 

“JAKE! EJECT EJECT EJECT!” Bradley shouted frantically through the coms. He watched on in pure horror as one of the best aviators he knew plummeted to earth without much control. “HANGMAN EJECT!” 

“Tell Y/n I love her–” was the last communication that Bradley received before Jake frantically gave up his battle with the controls to pull his chute. 

Much like Rooster’s late father, Jake’s emergency exit hadn’t gone according to plan. The roar of the F-18's engines screamed in Jake's ears as the warning lights flashed across the cockpit. Smoke billowed from the right engine, as his aircraft trembled violently. 

As Jake pulled his emergency chute, he was propelled into the sky as his F-18 was engulfed in flames so hot the heat melted his uniform into his skin. If he’d waited even one second more he would have been a goner. The emergency exit did little to stop the dramatic fall from grace Jake was experiencing. He plummeted unconscious from the sky towards the burning pile of rubble that was, just a few seconds ago, his Super Hornet. 

The ground felt like solid concrete as Jake slammed into the side of the valley, bones shattered on impact as Rooster watched on in utter agony. His helmet did little to cushion the impact, although that was its intended purpose. Emergency services had already been sent out to Jake’s last known location… but there was little that could be done for Jake as he lay in a twisted pile of his emergency parachute. Blood stained his flight suit as his body began to shut down.

He was dying, but the laughter of children filled the silence like sunlight filtering through leaves—light, spontaneous, and full of love. 

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

@maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989 @avengersgirllorianna

[beelinx]

hihihi! i loovee your recent percy jackson works and i was wondering if i could please request headcanons or a smau of percy jackson x child of apollo?? (or just general) no pressure, love your writing! 🩷🩷

a/n: hiii 😭❤️ tysm for the request ! i couldn’t choose between headcanons or smau so i did both </3

If there is one thing Percy is once you two are together is down bad.

We’ve all seen it, that man is lovesick to the bone.

Honestly I’d say he’s willing to get on his knees for you any day.

We all know he’s a loyal man — it literally is his fatal flaw.

Still though I felt it was important to add because he will not let any negative thoughts plague your mind.

You will literally never doubt his fidelity because he makes sure you know just how devoted he is to you and how much he loves you <3

Mostly because he says it non-stop.

Also because of how much he does for you.

Firm believer that actions speak louder than words, so be ready to have him constantly offer to do stuff for you.

Door? Opened.

Food? Already paid for.

House? Scrubbed every little inch.

He may not be the best at some of these skills, but he will always try his hardest for you.

I feel like I have to follow that up with this: He may be loyal, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be an asshole to others.

I always see people say it’s a red flag if your boyfriend opens the door for girls, or if he lets them down kindly while rejecting them.

But honestly I’d say it just shows how much of a gentleman he is.

If he treats other girls like shit then he is not worth it.

And trust me Sally raised that man right he will be a gentleman.

Also — when you finally get to meet Sally, she’s obsessed with you.

Anyone who makes her son that happy is a friend of hers, but it also helps how well you two end up getting along the first time you meet.

She definitely shows you the embarrassing picture album…

Percy would love for you to meet Estelle.

Whenever he sees you playing with her he gets filled with so much joy it’s insane.

I feel like he'd like to go on beach dates a lot.

He'd try to introduce you to the fish.

Okay now focusing more on the child of Apollo part

My favorite thing about Apollo kids is how varied they can be.

Like you can be in that cabin for singing, poetry, medicine, archery, etc.

You can find every single type of person there and I love that.

He’d love you for any hobby you have, honestly he just really likes how talented you are.

Percy would just really admire your passion and dedication to your craft.

BUT if you were a medic then he would just love to have you fussing over him whenever he gets an injury.

Sort of like Leo I do believe he’d go to the infirmary just for little scraps in order to see you.

For my musically talented Apollo kids, I think he loves to hear you playing your instrument / hearing you sing more than any other melody ever.

Honestly after all he’s gone through your music helps him calm down and feel relaxed.

Sometimes he’d just sit by when you’re practicing but ends up falling asleep by how peaceful he feels

Might go one step further and add that I believe this could also somewhat fit with the poets.

The way your voice sounds when you recite your poems leaves him so <3

Sometimes he thinks your dad is pretty annoying but, in the end, one of the nicer gods.

Overall, definitely one of the sweetest bfs ever who would literally do anything for you!

I'd say he'd even fight a god but honestly he'd probably do that just because (already does).

[ramblinscramblin]

i’ve never done a request before but i YEARN for anything involving scout with a medic/nurse-reader. I really like how u wrote him in the kissing head canons the characterization was really well done :3

→Scout with a Nurse!Reader

Genre: flufff

Characters: Scout

Oooo I love this idea! Thanks so much!! I’m glad u enjoy and I hope u like this too anon !（＾∇＾）

Scout

Scout is a very proud individual, as we all know. So he doesn’t like to seem like he was actually hurt by something.

Will be wheeled into the office covered in bruises, cuts with multiple broken ribs and bullet wounds like “is that bleedin’? Didn’t even feel it,” he’s visibly wincing though.

It’s actually pretty dangerous, as he tends to downplay his pain and symptoms to an insane degree.

One time you were checking his bone for fractures “okay, can you wiggle your fingers?” You asked, tapping your pen against your clipboard.

He did so, suppressing a groan, “see? S’fine. Like I said.”

You sigh putting your clipboard down and sitting in front of him “Scout, I’m a medical professional. I’m not going to judge you if it hurts,” you explain, hands on your knees.

You blinks at you for a moment “well! It doesn’t so!” He exclaimed defiantly, you just click your tongue shaking your head.

He needed to hear that though, from that point on might be more open to admitting that he’s in pain. Just wants to impress you by being strong and cool.

The first time he admits something actually hurts is a huge milestone for not just him but the two of you. It means he trusts you not to judge him, not many people are in that category.

“Okay, does that hurt?” You ask, one hand on your hip the other pressing down on his forearm.

He winces a little “…uh yeah, actually, it does a lil’ bit,” he mumbled looking down.

You hum to yourself surprised by his honesty, “oh… you poor thing,” you said sweetly. That activated something in his brain.

From that point onwards every time he had the tiniest paper cut he’d come to you telling you how he needed a bandaid. Loves when you show your sympathy for him.

Still on occasion keeps his pain to himself, but he likes hearing how brave you think he is, or how horrible they were for hurting him.

If he gets sick? Oh forget it.

Scout is guilty of that “man sickness” the smallest fever will convince him these are his last days. Get used to being his personal nurse a few days.

Will whine to you about his aching head through shivers, and how you’d just be an absolute angel if your brought him some soup.

Asks you to check his fever a lot, it’s definitely not because he likes when you touch his forehead. Gets pissed off when you have a thermometer, will lament that it doesn’t work, he thinks he’s slick.

Don’t tell any of the other mercs about his behavior, it will definitely put him off and he may give you the cold shoulder for a little while if you do so.

Big baby with needles, “needs” you to hold his hand. It’s totally not an act, he really, medically, needs to hold your hand.

Will call you “doc” even if you’re a nurse, he likes the nickname.

He just enjoys how sweet and gentle you are with him. Blushes every time you say something like “poor thing”.

Omg he’s such a cutie I love him, and I loved this prompt! Thanks so much anon (о´∀`о)

[captain-pheonix]

Hi this is a silly question but I really like your stuff and I think you're cool and really swag writer so I was wondering if you could do one with the TF2 mercs (and maybe miss Pauling, whatever you want) with a reader who boxes? Can be romantic or platonic, and the gender can be whatever you find easier to write. Ok, thank you ❤️😭

Mercs + Pauling (romantic and/or platonic) x gn!reader who likes boxes 📦 (HCs)

A/n: AHHHH TY ANON ILY 🫶 This isn’t weird at all, seriously, I am a certified creature and you have 100% come to the right person. I collect Apple product boxes and if I’m being honest if I lived by myself I’d just collect boxes regularly. Im making this gn!reader that can be read as platonic or romantic! Hope you enjoy!!

BIG EDIT: HOLY SHIT ANON IM SO SORRY I CANT READ YOU MEANT A READER THAT BOXES NOT A READER THAT LIKES BOXES IM GONNA CRY 😭😭😭😭 IM GONNA MAKE ANOTHER POST FOR A READER THAT BOXES IM SO SORRY

Warnings: none (boxes jumpscare, graphic depictions of cardboard)

Pauling

• Girlie is like “huh” but doesn’t really care because all the other mercs are equally if not more insane (and we all know the admin is, too)

• When she finds out, she finds it kinda funny, gives her a tiny break from being a workaholic 25/8

• “What do you find so fascinating about them?” Ms. Pauling says, genuinely curious. You explain that they’re just nice, they itch your brain the right way, and just like how a child sees one of those huge appliance boxes. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense, actually. Interesting. Never would have thought about that.”

• ✨the box hoard TM✨ is probably just in a corner or a closet somewhere

• She’ll probably ask if she can have any because they’d be really nice for sorting paper work

• Up to you, but maybe you give her a few you don’t like as much

Sniper

• bro is confuzzled

• thinks you’re crazy

• exits the room

• (no)

• like Pauling, he’s a bit confused, but after explaining how it’s like that feeling you get as a kid seeing a package arrive in a huge box, he understands it a bit more

• probably a little weirded out by your ✨box hoard✨ anyway

• calls you a cat 😞

• I feel like he’d be the kind who might get annoyed at the box board being around, thinking it takes up space and it needs to be tidied

• might get something to help you organize the boxes

Scout

• finds it absolutely positively hilarious cannot stop laughing

• “What? You like boxes?”

• Shoves you in boxes because it’s funny 😔

• after explaining the whole “it just sorta itches my brain like when a kid sees an empty box something was in” thing, he’s like “oh my gosh, that totally makes sense, actually!”

• 10/10 would just chill in one your boxes even if it’s a little small

• weird but wholesome headcannons that you two would fall asleep/cuddle in your boxes together

• honestly though after a while I feel like he’d join your box hobby

• he might ask for the boxes after someone gets a delivery or orders something just for you

• drawing on the boxes!!!

Medic

• Blud is like “ok cool”

• prob gives you boxes leftover from shipments of medical supplies like plastic bits (I wouldn’t take the ones from his shipments of animal organs 😬)

• those boxes might smell like the med lab 😔

• but I mean if you enjoy his scent or something then it’s probably a nice reminder

• when you talk about how a kid would react when a giant box shows up in the mail and how it never went away he gets it

Pyro

• you know for a fact bro is playing with them

• completely understands right off the bat you do not have to explain anything

Spy

• boxtrot taunt

Demo

• too drunk to give a shite

• you may or may not find some bottles in the boxes

Engie

• May have some boxes kicking around to give you

• kinda doesn’t get it but when you explain he’s just like “ok then guess ur just quirky like that”

Soldier

• I’m gonna follow Electrro64rus and say this man is crazy about boxes

• very excited when he finds out you like collecting boxes

• don’t have to explain why you collect boxes, dude is just excited to also participate

Heavy

• utter confusion

• even when you explain it still utter confusion

[lostiolite]

Saw you liked dangerous fellows and are accepting requests, I was wondering if you could write headcannons for all the characters? Maybe include how they act the first time you meet in comparison to how they are after getting close with them. What they're like with physical affection, holding hands, kissing cuddling etc. Whatever you can think of about a headcannon basically. You don't have to but I'd also love if you could include other characters like Judy, Sue, Jae and Scarlett! (If you think she's redeemable 💀) Thank you so much! <3

so i didnt due jay or hailely but anyways yeah! sorry for taking FOREVR

and its not proof read because i am not proof reading 3.0k words on a laggy laptop

LAWRENCE  

He's interesting, a knight in shinnng armor with some… things going on. I don't think he’d change much over the course of your relationship. He is down for anything because it's you. 

He's kind, calm, and very attentive. He notices things about you that you don't even realize. He always seems to pop in at the most convenient moments. This has to do with the fact that he's extremely over protective and territorial of you. He doesn’t let  it show early on though. 

After you get close and kind of stuck with him is when he shows his much more overbearing side. Hes like a sick guard dog that scares anyone away. Anyone who steals your attention, female or male, platonic. especially romantic he doesn’t like. He gets jealous, like crazy jealous. Hes insane, he holds your worth over his own family (cannon), but that doesn’t mean he isnt above hurting you. Thank god it wont ever come to that though. Both in cannon, because its too dangerous and the lack of profesionall medical tools could mean the msallest injury could be fatal. And in a no zombie au because, well the law. Korea is the land of cctv afterall, his ass would get caught. 

Overall, hes very helpful. Hes always down to listen to you. To him, your voice and love is a cure to even his darkest thoughts. Hes very genuine in his love with you too. He wont hesitate to compliment you or give you a little kiss here or there or everywhere. He loves holding hands, kissing and cuddling. He wants to be with you, be you and be your savior. He loves you genuinely with all his heart. He could be stuck an eternity with you and you alone and he would be happy for said eternity. To him, you made all the wrong in life right, and the once dull colors vibrant. He actually enjoys waking up now. He’s a very complex man. I dont think he cares about pda, or public appearances much when you’re inloved. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what everyone else thinks, (he does actually).  I dont think he has much self worth. Its hard to explain. Hes smart, pretty and (probrably) athletic, or physically capible. He knows he the guy girls and even guys swoon over, but he doesn’t really have a personality. His only sense of self worth comes from his academics and what others think of him. Hes begun to find life dull, even so he doesn’t know what else to do. Everyone is snakes so when he meets someone (you) whos genuine he latches on with every bit of his being. You gave him the ability to find his self worth as a human and outside of academics, which also means you hold alot of power against him, even if you dont know yourself. I think he really just needs to learn that you love him for him no matter what. Then his extreme tendencies will lessen abit. As for love language i think he exceeds in all of them, though he may lack in quality time for his busy schedule. Study with him, he would really enjoy it. Even if you aren’t talking, just cuddling or embracing as you do your studies is something really intimate that makes every part of him warm. He could genuielnty get lost in thought looking at you. Will do your hair, doesn’t matter what kind of hair you’ve got. He will research and learn how to take care of it. Again, to him intimate moments like freshly showering and in pj’s is something that makes him so happy he could die. He’s also fine with matching outfits. But I think he likes matching stationary and studying tools more. It makes him smile. Back on the topic of studying, he LOVEs when you ask him questions, it could be a simple “9x9 is 81 RIGHT???” and he’ll smile as he nods. I think once he learns some genuelen self love and respect, he will be awesome. Tbh, i dont think he’d raise his voice in arguments, I think he’d be somewhat condescending. “Oh dont you get it?” “this is for the better”. Lowkey i feel like he’d deflate imeediatley after out of fear that you’d leave. When you move in together i think the highlight of his day will be waking up next to you. Wakes up an extra hour early jsut to cuddle you.

As for children, i could see 2 paths. Genuine love after he learns self respect. Or the Aishi route where he only loves them for being the actual embondiment of the love between you and him. But i like the first idea more so- he does everything his parents couldn't. Tries his best to promote their studies while also giving them love. 

EUGENE

Standoffish, and tsundere. Hes very cautious of people. He has firm boundaries of who he considers friend or foe. That being said he becomes much more attentive and protective (different than Lawrence) to you. He wont let anyone defame you and acts like a worried mother, telling you to dress up for the cold and chastises you for forgetting sick. Kind of like a worried mother. Hes very blunt and sometimes comes off as rude but he genuinely doesn't mean to. 

As for physical affection i feel like hes playfully aggressive. Big fan of hand holding in public. I think he likes to hold your head close to him. Hes a big fan of arcade dates, especially the rhythm game ones. He loves playing crane games even if they are rugged. Will do the cliche thing of winning a gift for you at a carnival / fair but its the cutest thing ever. Forehead kisser 100%. Composes music for you, its a huge way of showing his love for you. Makes playlists and burns cd’s for you and to listen to together. Would love it of you were to return the act. If you play an instrument or sing he would 100% wanna duet. Omg imagine starting a band with him. You don't even have to make the music, you could literally be the artist or music video maker. WOuldn't that be so cute (i cant help but think of niigo) 

Much more understanding of fandom culture and things of the like, so yapping about your fav artists or even characters would be nice because he actually understands most of the internet lingo. Likes all your social media posts and makes stupid silly comments. All your moots/oomfies know who he is because wherever you are, he is aswell.

When hes comforting you, he will usually bash the other party for being the cause of your sadness. He usually insults them and their viewpoints while rubbing your hair. Hes really stubborn, so please be patient with him. Hes trying to get better, because he doesnt want to hurt the person he loves.

ETHAN

Unioricnly, a nice bonding time would be sleeping lolololo. Hes extremely standoffish at the beginning, like usual. But once you get his socials, he becomes much more understandable since hes able to communicate better online through sms. Even though hes a rather dry texter, you slowly learn to understand him more. I dont think he would go out of his way to participate in cheesy coupley stuff. BUt, if you asked him to then he would. I dont think his personality toward you would change much and most people woudnt be able to tell that you are dating but thats honestly for the better because hes generally a more private person. However, just because its not visible doesnt mean that he doesnt love you. WIll put his life on the line for you in a heart beat. And considering his physical strength he will not hesitate to put someone in their place if they tried something on you. 

Despite his muscular figure, hes very cuddly and cozy. I feel like hes a crazy sleeper who sleeps in the wackiest positions. But, he always manages to wrap his arms around you. I feel like he would kiss you on the nose or lips.  Please help him study for all the classes hes slept thoruhg. In return he will do something like “this is for you ___” while hes playing baseball or something. Wether or not he misses it still enamores the people viewing because its so weirdw watching ethan, the usually cool and quiet one proclaim his love for you. On that note his teammates find his subtle change in behaboir cute. Like the way he starts constantly checking his phone during practice to see if he got a text from you. Or the small smile that tugs on his lips informing them that he got a text from you.

I just know he would be horrible at comforting you. Probably just stands there confused. He puts his hand on your shoulder then hugs you because thats all he can do. He will text you later, when his thoughts are much more composed. These messages are  heartfelt because you can tell he put effort into it.

ZION

He teases you with malice at first, like he does with everybody. But once he gets a soft spot the teasing become more endearing and he becomes much more protective of you. If you don't like the teasing he will (try) to stop. Only he can tease you and will get one anyone for teasing you (if it makes you uncomfortable). I dont think hes the biggest fan of PDA, more just things like hand holding and thats it. The nail in the coffin for your relationship is when he becomes vulnurbale and opens up about his past. Hes a big and small spoon tbh. As much as he portrays himself as rash, he is ultimately a big teddy bear. He definitely gives big bear hugs. Definetly just a straight up mouth kisser. Oh yeah he would square up with anyone who tries anything on you. Not to mention hes really rich so he would blacklist them from the neverland parks. Spoils you rotten, makes a while fiasco out of any achievement and throws a big fat fucking party, or if your not a party person just buys something really expensive and makes a big deal out of it. Takes you shopping for clothes and anything you like (like… figurines). I don't think he would be opposed to the idea of ordering custom plushies/figures of the two of you. As for his rich family, they obviously wouldn't be fond of him dating a commoner but he can always marry someone for political gain and just spend his time with his actual partner.

HARRY

Self-depricating and too kind for his good. Hes extremely nice to you as he is everyone at the start so you dont really feel special. Hes the type to be straightforward and as you out. Hes very old fashioned, or tries to be considering his lack of money. Im going to be honest i dont think hes in the best mental state. He would jump off the roof if you asked him too. He feels like a burden to his mother just for existing and will take along time to open up to you. Hes also very manipulatable, due to his lack of selfworth. Hes much more willing to indulge in pda. Afterall why woulnt he showcase his love for you? Doesnt have mch money so his dates usually consist of cheap convenience store runs or hanging out at his work. As self-loathing as he is, would probrabbly be the best partner. He will very much communicate his feelings. Hes very patient with you despite all your flaws. He loves you from the earth and back and would do anything to make you happy. Please get him a violin (im pretty sure he sold it in cannon to pay for bills?). Will play you dozens of love songs and your favoirtes. Shows up with flowers and chocolates on valentines because thats how he is. The very supportive golden retriever boyfriend who will cheer you on no matter what. Hes your best friend and number one fan.

JUDY

Happy trooper! Shes super jolly and just like Harry overly nice to everyone so its hard to tell how much you mean to her specifically. I think she would also be straight forward about confessing but much more nervous and blushing. She starts jumping with joy when you accept. Huge pda fan, will give the biggest fattest fucking smooch to you whereever whenever. Loves cuddling, doesnt care about big or small spoon. Just holding you close is enough for her. Super smily and her demeanor can lift you up in a ,matter of seconds. After getting into a relationship, not much changes other than the blatant kissing. sHe is more real with you and will voice her doubts about things that scare her. shes really good at keeping herself grounded and helping others. Posts you for national bf/gf day and says endearing cheesy things. I cant help but feel like shes silly with text but also unirronicly uses smily faces like an old grandma. 

SUE

Shes similar to lawrence, but like not batshit crazy. She also isnt as playful, espcially when you first meet her. Her treatment towards you will be either one, you dont really care about your studies and act stupid and she kind of just shoves you aside or you are her study buddy or someone she deems respectable. Shes also kind of like a nagging mother but not too a harsh degree. She always takes note of your state and brings you snacks/gifts because they reminded her of you even if she doesnt realize it. She kind of quiet and introverted but i dont really think she minds pda. She doesnt see why she should chare about what others think about her relationship afterall. Though, i dont think she goes out of her way to kiss you in public, she saves it for more intimate or important times. 

If i can recall correctly she was part of student council so trust she will be using that to her advantage if anyone tries to bother you. I think spending time with her is fun especially because she probably helps with school events so you two always have something fun to do. Afterall whats better than helping out at a fair and also getting to go on a date at the same time. Dating Sue has a ton of perks because (especailly if you were already a goodie-two shoes thats liked by teachers) teachers will be way more lenient of you. Practically letting you guys do things that the other kids cant do. Shes definitely big spoon and is surprising really cozy. I think fur coats would look nice on her so hugging her in the winter is definitely a plus. 

SCARLETT

Shes a hard one to get along with. Her abrasive attitude doesnt really change much and its really hard for you to tell when she starts to like you because again, her attitude doesnt change. Its smaller things like her worrying about you under the gaze of simply being curious. If your oblivious or just dont catch on to her, it will just eventually get to a point where she aporaches you, asks you out and demands an answer. Definitely a big pda person, and flaunts you around like “heh! Yea this is MY partner. Goes or drags you on shopping dates. Not only does she dress up but she dresses you up and she has a really great eye for fashion. Its very clear that shes the “bratty princess” characatchure.

Anyways i think she would have a fun time setting up a home date for the two of you, like doing your nails as you two listen to a tv drama channel or just gossip. Very iconic couple and gf 10/10. I think she would switch between big and little spoon, she doesnt have a solid preference, its more of a spur of the moment feeling for her. Kisses you with lipstick and takes photos.

[tsundereho]

batfam sick fic (proofread)

818 words: my base idea posted as well, oooh fun right? tw i guess for talks of incorrect medicine use. I swear in this, so yeah be warned

@coal-or-something helped me (watched me write and go insane, occasionally helped with grammar)

Bruce powers through anything like a fucking truck Dick can power through it but chooses to be a baby about it (for the bit) Jason is much like bruce but is more noticeable, will refuse to be taken care of Tim doesn’t have a spleen he gets sick like unable to leave bed sick, refuses treatment best he can and tries to keep working Steph is stubborn and confident, can and will make her own damn soup but due to being sick it doesn't go very well Damian doesn't get sick very often but when he does he will refuse to admit it to the point of making it worse for himself Duke Thomas probably knows what to do best (other then alfred) Cass was homeless for 9 years, so used to being sick and just ignoring it. So very used to being sick and just forcing herself not to be due to her dad then her time on the streets

Different scenarios of them being sick, all, same level of sick to start, same symptoms

Bruce cannot slow down or take a break ever, and it was becoming more and more apparent as he refused to pause his typing for a coughing fit. Despite Alfreds warnings about it will only get worse. The only compromise he made was not attending a brunch and instead using that time for a nap, mainly because he didn’t have the energy to mask at all.

Dick at the first sign of his cold immediately canceled his plans, sure he was still gonna go be Nightwing but he needed the days to rest! He was sick, he needed soup and tea with extra honey to help his sore throat.

Jason refuses to let anybody near him while he's sick, he knows they’ll do something, whether it's trying to hurt him in his vulnerable state or worse, take care of him. He didn’t need extra blankets or hot drinks, he needed to stop being weak and just get through this, any guidelines on the cold meds? Ignored. He's chugging the bottle in one go. He needs to feel better. Very often nightwing can find him accidentally high and loopy since he took ten times over the recommended dose, the only reason he isn’t dead is because he is a tank of man.

Tim is doing everything he can to ward off the sickness at the first sneeze, wearing a face mask, washing everything he owns as often as he can, when he gets sick he gets sick. One of the many cons of not having a spleen. 

It does help but not by much, he still gets sick and is immediately bed ridden for his own safety, he can and will seriously hurt himself trying to work like this.

Damian since i can’t write steph very well yet

Damian is the one who got sick first, not that he would admit it to even himself, yes he is drinking more tea, but only because he likes the way Alfred makes it, nothing more nothing less, he scoffs at the idea of taking a break, he did not need a break since he was not sick, no matter what father or any of his siblings said, they were all wrong. No matter how much he overslept for school he would show up anyways.

Cass is very nervous about getting sick, it makes her weak. After nearly a decade on the street she knows how bad it is to be out of commission, being sick meant working harder just to eat as your body screamed at you just to lay down. Being sick at the Wayne Manor was very different, actual medicine, warm food, not needing to force her body to keep moving when all she wanted was to collapse. Bed rest for once isn't forced, she wants a nap and a rest.

Okay i see her as stubborn but more understanding of when she needs to give in. sure when she first started getting sick, much like the others just ignored and medicated. Once she started getting more sick? Actually takes it easy instead of brute forcing her way through it. Is she going to go on bedrest? Hell the fuck no but shes gonna make herself a nice little treat.

Duke Thomas, the only one to actually take the recommended amount of medicine and not just the entire thing, he's keeping track of what times he ate and how much, making sure to wash his hands more often and all that shit

i was gonna write more but uh, no :3

[bejeweledblondie]

Phillip Graves Headcannons

A/N: These are supposed to be somewhat realistic, I lived in Texas for three years on an Army Base & Jesus Christ they’re flooded with plenty of Phillip Graves

Phillip Graves x F! Reader

• You met Phillip while he was on a four-day weekend at a UT vs. Baylor football game

• You were one of the cheerleaders on the sidelines & you caught his eye immediately

• I mean c’mon those shorts & chaps mixed with Pom Poms (The UT Cheer uniform is so stinkin’ cute)

• Your friend pointed him out to you at first

• “Girl that man has been staring at you”

• He was nearly focused on you the entire game, you kept smiling & giggling at him the more he looked

• He found you as you were walking out of the stadium, he asked you out & ofc you said yes

• There’s 100% an age gap (this man’s ego is equally as large as big as Texas)

• If you’re in a sorority he attends the formals with you

• he drives the most lifted extra pick up truck you can imagine

• “Babe can you even see over the damn steering wheel?”

• As you graduate college he proposed to you (with a two carat diamond) & you had a elaborate wedding on his family’s ranch in Texas

• You had multiple wedding dresses designed by Berta bridal

• Surprise Pom dance for him with your cheer teammates

• After the wedding you honeymooned in Italy

• Ofc y’all decided on off post housing so you be able to have every commodity on the planet

• hear me out indoor swimming pool

• Even though you went to college, Graves is a very traditional man he doesn’t want you to work

• You have different hobbies, go to cycle class, shop ofc, get Botox done etc.

• Since he’s a very traditional man I do feel like he’d hold some old fashion views that were engrained in him from childhood

• He’s a religious man to some extent (he’s from Texas there’s no way around that)

• He 100% loves to show you off on & off post

• His Shadows at first were in pure disbelief that he married you, hell some of his Shadows are closer in age to you

• Buys you lululemon work out clothing for the “quality” he loves the way your body looks like those damn align leggings

• You guys do go line dancing & the both of y’all are pretty good at it

• He loves to go to the range to shoot in his free time, & he’s a hunter (I apologize to my fellow animals lovers) but not a trophy hunter

•He conceal carries a handgun at all times

• He makes delicious Deer jerky

• This man collects old Allied WW2 firearms

• He loves History Channel documentaries on WW2

• full on dad stance in front of the tv while watching

• “Honey come look at this!”

• He’s not that old but due to his time in the Marines & current job he does have bad knees, a bad back etc. the cracking his body does is insane

• He does take pills for that & you have to remind him to take them

• Whenever you ask him to read something he whips out his old man glasses

• He is always losing them too, so at work he will wear contacts (no one knows about this at his work)

• “Turn the radio I can’t see”

• He adopted a golden retriever puppy & a German Shepard puppy for you

• They’re your guard dogs when he’s away

• You got pregnant a little bit later in your marriage solely because Phillip was focusing on work a lot in the beginning of your marriage

• He was over the moon excited that you were pregnant

• Your gender reveal was powder inside of a target & be shot at it

• It was blue, you were having a little boy

• He made sure the nursery was set up prior to him leaving

• When you went into labor Phillip was about to go on a mission & it was the most excruciating experience knowing something horrible could’ve happened

• He watched your baby be born on FaceTime. It hurt him to see you upon so much pain & just surrounded by medical staff

• Due to a miscommunication & an ambush he unfortunately got held up

• He didn’t meet your son until a month after you delivered

• He looked at the photo he had of you in his plate carrier in the safe house he was held up in wondering how you & his newborn son were doing

• His Shadows & their significant others gifted you the most beautiful baby gifts once they returned from the missions

• Graves would fall asleep with your baby on his chest in the living room after feeding him in his recliner

• Your son’s little face would be smushed up against Graves’s chest drooling on his t-shirt

• He too would bring your son to work, but once he started crawling (I swear if there’s one thing that will break any hardened military man is a baby)

• Once your little boy is old enough he would play football & baseball

• Graves also helps coach when he can, he too played those sports as a little boy

• He’d also probably take him hunting too & teach him how to live off of the land

• The saying Once a Marine Always a Marine rings true in the Graves’s household

• Just like his old man your little boy joined the Marines

• Graves is a true traditional family man at heart & does everything he can to shield you guys from his line of work

✨NSFW✨

• huge daddy kink, his ego is already big & he loves the idea of you having to rely on him

• Loud office sex whenever you’d visit

• Cockwarming him while he does paperwork

• You’d wiggle around & he’d hold you down

• You went topless in Italy when you went to the beach on your honeymoon, & he constantly was grabbing at your tits

• You adopted the habit of tanning like that in the privacy of your backyard

• Major breeding kink too

• He loves finishing inside of you

• He’ll also use you to take his frustrations out when he’s had a rough day at work

• Lingerie especially red lingerie is his favorite

• He’s 100% a boob man & he’d be happy to pay for fake tits if that’s what you wanted

• You’d 100% wear his cowboy hat while riding him

• He spanks you as a punishment

• You do have sex in the back of his pick up truck under the infamous Texas starry nights

• You two have made so many sex tapes together from all different angles

• He also has so many nudes of you

• One or a couple may have accidentally gotten leaked to his team (this just fed his ego more)

• You’d also probably wear his old marine dress blues for the Marine Corps birthday as you rode him

[deancaspinefest]

all that we intend

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden | Artist: NeverSleepUntilFive

Posting on Tuesday March 26

When Dean Winchester met Castiel Novak in college they were both headed for amazing things: Dean was a rising star in the art world while Cas was a promising medical student. Now, thirteen years and one marriage later, none of those dreams have come true. Cas works twelve hour shifts as a nurse while Dean works as a mechanic, his art supplies wasting away in a dusty room. With his marriage to Cas on rocky ground, Dean starts to feel like he made a mistake all those years ago. A chance encounter and a hasty wish land Dean in another world -- one where his art career is skyrocketing him to fame and fortune... And one where he never married Cas. Now Dean has to make a decision -- whether to go back to Cas and his mundane life, or whether to stay... and lose Cas forever.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Just to the side, off hospital property, a street vendor has set a table up. A very familiar street vendor.

“You,” Dean snarls, almost jogging in his haste to get to the man. The vendor looks up from his phone, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees Dean. Not even Dean’s hand shooting out and grabbing the front of his shirt can dim his superior expression.

Aware of the eyes on him, Dean avoids slamming that smug face into the table, but it’s a struggle. “You,” he repeats, giving the vendor a little shake. “You did this.”

“Afraid you’re going to have to be more specific bucko,” the vendor drawls. “If it was your wife or your sister I knocked up, then honestly, they should be grateful. And even though you are a stud, you’re not really my type, so…”

The last word is elongated into a monstrosity of syllables. Dean’s resolve to not punch the vendor is growing thinner and thinner by the second. His knuckles crack with the strain of holding himself back.

“This,” he finally spits, dragging out the pendant from underneath his shirt. “You gave me this and told me some bullshit story about how it could grant wishes.”

“Hm,” the vendor says, making a big show of pondering. He even taps his chin with the tip of his index finger, the absolute fuckwit. “Doesn’t seem so much like it was bullshit, now does it?”

For just one moment, Dean’s brain is wiped blissfully blank. He doesn’t even have the background noise of static to distract him. There’s just… nothing, but then reality intrudes in the form of someone laying on the horn when the person in front of them lingers for a split-second too long at a green light.

“You’re insane,” he finally says, bringing his brain back online. “There’s no such thing as… As…”

The vendor raises one supremely smug eyebrow. “No? Then explain why your husband just treated you like the annoying kid at a high school reunion.”

Furious, Dean clenches his jaw. He starts and immediately slaughters at least half a dozen sentences. The truth... The awful truth that he can't admit to himself is that there is no rational explanation. Not even his most far-fetched notions explain the phone call, Cas and Meg’s behavior, and the disappearance of his wedding ring.

Nothing except the impossible, that is.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Tuesday March 26)

[simp999]

I feel this is cringe but it itches the back of my mind like no other… since it’s late 60s early 70s in tf2, mercs reaction to there being a new recruit who is a female pilot? I’m sorry if this sounds like? Hyper specific ? But she’s like hot biker/pilot bitch who is like the epitome of Cool Girl (tm) flared ripped jeans and tight tank tops yk?

GOING INSANE OVER THIS ITS SUCH A COOL IDEA

I'm so sorry about how long it took to make this and how short it is, I'm trying to do all my requests in order of what I received em ww

TF2 Mercs x Badass Fem Pilot! Reader Headcannons

Wc: 730

Themes: uhh Fluff? Romantic and platonic depends on character

A/N: Sniper bias whoop

A/N 2: okay so. I try to stray away from fem reader stuff but this THIS is a complete exception because I love the idea sm

Taglist: @emotionally-alive-sniper @moopy-milk @skeleton-stomper-xoxo @emotionallyunwellmedic @physically-robotic-medic

Masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Scout: 

-God,, he is immediately in love with your style and vibes.

-Yes, in a simpery way

-Will absolutely fumble on words and flirt miserably

-"Hey girl are you a pilot cause uh you’re really cool"

-Absolutely will find clothes that he thinks suits your style and be your #1 hypeman 

Soldier:

-Wants to touch all the buttons

-"SHOW ME YOUR MEDALS!!!!!!"

-Does respect the effort and time you’ve put into training definetly. But is always asking you to prove yourself

-Okay you can pilot but can you do 30 pushups. Right here right now.

Pyro:

-Doesn’t think of you any differently if you’re female

-A new cool friend!!

-Just an adorable little goober. Okay maybe they get to sit in the front sometimes

-Loves loves loves making drawings of you and them and planes!!!! And clouds

Heavy: 

-Protective older brother.

-He is SO overprotective of you. You remind him too much of his sisters.

-You’re strong just like them but,, it’s just scary, y’know? He misses them

-Often just kinda chills around- and won’t stand for ANY harassment or anything rude. AHEM spy AHEM

-And the clear bias for you? It’s honestly funny at times

-He definetly makes you sandviches and just. Silently takes care of you

Engie:

-Rocket boosters for the planes. He’s gonna bring it up on multiple occasions

-Makes you little plane trinkets out of wood and stuff!! Pyro paints them :]

-Is so interested in infodumping about mechanical stuff with you- he’s glad he has somebody that just. GETS HIM yknow?

-If you need someplace to go chill away from the chaos that the mercs usually bring, the workshop’s your go-to. Late night convos are the best with this man

Demo:

-Roughhouses!!

-Treats you like one of the guys

-Respectfully ofc but. You’re getting noogies

-Will be offering you beer n stuff, he treats you like a really good friend

-Lives for your vibes

-He thinks you’re so badass!! Hell yeah!!!

Medic:

-Kay so. You probably had to go through lots of training right?? So!;

-Rivalry for first aid.

-Hear me out

-Everyone all of a sudden wants you to help make them feel better when they get small injuries because of the one time you mentionned you had to do a buttload of first-aid courses

-So. Lots of who can make it to the scene and get (injured person) back on their feet the quickest

-Does ask you if you’ve ever expirinenced or witnessed anything wild- such as big crashes, and how people dealt with the situations

-Loves your stories despite pretending to hate you- it’s just a friendly rivalry!

Sniper:

-He’s not one to really apprach you, but he does definetly admire you from a distance.

-He thinks you’re too cool for him :( 

-But eventually one day, you’ll ctach him stargazing- and you’d have the amazing idea of bringing him for a ride just the two of you so that you can see the stars

-.God maybe he just fell in love I MEAN WHAT????? ANYWAys

-He LOVES stargazing with you!!

-You get to tell eachother stories and it’s overall really calming- a nice from the hectic mercenary life

-He also happens to know a fair bit about constellations, so he’ll infodump unconsiously if you let him :) 

Spy:

-Spyyyy… dislikes your ideals, and has traditional values

-Not a fan of the way you hold yourself, but will eventually warm up a bit

-Im sorry,, I just don’t like Spy aheh anyways

-You probably end up showing off your skills- not of purpose though, just- you seen a natural at what you do, and that’s when he sees that maybe there’s a reason you’re such a big deal

(Bonus!) All:

-They all fight over who gets to sit in the passenger seat. Some are more civil about it, for example Engineer or Heavy- but they still want to sit in the front for their own reasons. You may have walked into the room only to find all the mercs fighting iver who’s calling shotgun for the next ride.

“I AM GOING TO PRESS ALL THE BUTTONS!”

“NO WAY CHUCKLEFUCK, I’M SITTIN’ NEXT TA THE HOT CHICK!”

“No. Heavy will sit next to pilot for protection. Is only fair.”

“Ya’ll- I have some things I’d like to see up close in the cockpit, I think I should be next.”

“Mmhhph!!!”

.

.

.

Sep.20.23

[deadliestfishinthesea]

Love always comes back (like a boomerang) Pt. 2

How you meet Captain boomerang while working undercover for A.R.G.U.S. (and eventually fall for him)

Part 2.

the real story begins after this one (and the romance too)

1.400 words

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54019207/chapters/136825786#workskin

“King Shark showed promising signs of composure since he got admitted here. It's his first time outside.“ officer Cash walked up to her, staring out the window with a frown, „He shouldn't cause any problems.“

___________________________________________

The weather didn't change. Y/n squinted to see if it was raining or if she was just imagining it. It was hard to be sure when glass separated her from the outside. She took a sip of her coffee, but winced and put it down on the windowsill. Still too hot.

“Oh, please. Look at him.“ Y/n gestured with her hand, “If I didn't know any better I would think it's his first day of school.“

The shark was out in the yard, sat on a bench that was much too small for him and glancing at anyone who passed by him. He almost looked lost.

“When are you going to talk to him?“

“Tomorrow.“

“You think he's got potential?“

"It doesn't matter what I think. That's up to Waller.“ Cash hummed and nodded, but Y/n continued, „But yeah. He does.“

“Hmph, what about the Aussie?“

“What about him?“

“Waller already approved him, no? Oh, and didn't he save you in the yard the other day or something?“

“You could say. A fight broke out, I was in the middle of it, he took the fight away from my direction.“

Y/n still remembers it clear as day. They replaced the broken table by now but when she looks out at the yard she can still imagine Harkness slouched over the other prisoner, blood dripping from his nose and his knuckles. She doesn't exactly know how to feel about the whole situation, but maybe that's because she doesn’t let herself think about it too much. Every time she remembers herself in the medical facility at the foot of Boomerang's bed, she tries her best to think about something else.

He huffed out a laugh, “I'm just glad that other guy's in lockdown now. What was it, Rambo?“

“Rango.“

“Rango, right. And the others?“

“Well, there's the doctor gone rogue and the man who never misses. You tell me.“

Y/n read all of their files. Harley Quinn, Dead Shot, Captain Boomerang and King Shark. All deadly, all wanting to get out. She never saw Harley Quinn in person, only photographs, and she would lie if she said she wasn't curious to meet her. Out of all the convicts she was assigned to evaluate, she was most excited to meet another woman with a degree in psychology, even if this one was apparently insane. She saw Deadshot once, but remembered how he looked. And she was almost in awe when hearing stories about his shooting skills, because as hard as they were to believe, they were all true. King Shark is unlike anything she's seen before. She felt like she was reading a fantasy novel when researching about him and his origins, and it baffled her to see such a seemingly powerful creature sit all shy on a yard bench. And then there's Captain Boomerang. His records were insane. She was in a briefing about a month ago and she remembered Colonel Flag say over a call that it would take at least two reams of paper to print out his full rap sheet. And it wasn't exactly a lie. She nearly had a stroke when researching about his past. Among other crimes, the man had nearly a hundred counts of burglary to his name. Who robs a hundred fucking banks? He does, apparently.

Cash went to say something but both his and Y/n's comms lit up and a male voice spoke trough the radio.

“This is watcher-09. Report to the north wing, Mockingbird wants to see you.“

Suddenly her coffee was long forgotten. They both looked at each other in silence until Y/n spoke up.

“What's Waller doing here?“

.

The trip to the north wing was short. Cash pushed open a big door and walked into a large room filled with rows and rows of computers, with an enormous monitor covering the whole front wall. It was uncanny to see the room completely empty. Y/n followed him in and stopped next to the giant monitor, and in front of them stood Amanda Waller, holding a manila file in her hand. She dropped the file on a desk.

“Doctor, I'm afraid your time in Arkham is over, you're being relocated to Metropolis under Colonel Flag's command. Cash, I need all my convicts ready.“

“What happened?“ Cash inquired.

“Metropolis has been invaded. We are sending Task Force X on the field and there's no time for evaluation, either they're ready or they're not.“ she slid the file across the table to Cash.

“They are, ma'am .“ Y/n said and Waller looked at her.

“Did you talk to all of them?“

“No. Only Captain Boomerang. But I've done my research.“

Waller nodded, “You've given me no reason to doubt you so far, doctor.“

“Thank you, ma'am. When am I leaving?“

“Right now.“

___

Wind gushed around and picked up small debris as the helicopter lowered to the ground. The door opened and Y/n stepped out, clutching her rifle. A tall man with a mellow expression on his face walked up to her, shouting so he's heard over the loud whirring of the helicopter.

“Y/n?“, he outstretched his hand, „I'm Colonel Rick Flag. They call you doc', right?“

She grabbed his hand and shook it, „That's me. What's the situation?“

“We're continuing travel on wheels. Anything that flies around here is an easy target.“

As they walked to a group of trucks the helicopter started leaving. They stood in the outskirts of Metropolis, surrounded by burnt down trees and collapsed buildings. She could see the outline of the city in the distance, and the giant alien ship hovering over the sky, its mechanical tentacles weaving through skyscrapers, and it seemed as though it engulfed the entire city. Her blood ran colder by the second, and she held her weapon tightly as she watched everything. Flag spoke again, not yelling this time.

“What's the situation in Arkham?“

“Waller's getting her Task Force ready.“

He was quiet for a second until they reached a truck. He turned to her, “So the circus is actually joining the defense?“

She nodded.

“And you're the one who picked them out?“ He looked at her pensively.

“Waller picked the members. I was just there to… provide extra precaution.“

“Make sure they're insane enough to do this, huh?“

“Aren't we all, Colonel?“ She smiled bitterly.

“Damn right. But that there's another type of crazy. Gotta make sure to keep 'em in line.“

“And how does Waller plan to do that?“

He was quiet for a second, searching for his words.

“You ever heard of a bomb injector?“

.

She sat in the back of the truck, relaxing into her seat as much as she could. So, it was finally happening, she thought. She wondered if the criminals would come out of this with their heads intact. Literally. In all honesty, she hoped they would. Even though she didn't have a direct say in it, Y/n was still involved in choosing the prisoners for the Task Force and sending them to their potential deaths.

A memory slipped into her head, then. Her in the medical facility, standing at the foot of Digger's bed, after he just saved her. Willingly. She thought about that often. He didn't have to step in, didn't have to earn bruises and stitches and isolation time just so she wouldn't be hit. But he did it anyway, and he didn't expect anything in return, either. That made her wonder. If he could do something selfless like that, could they all? Was there any good left in them? In him? But it didn't matter now. There's a chance she won't ever see him again, whether that be because of his death, or maybe even hers.

And she wasn't sure it if was from lack of sleep, or hundreds of destroyed homes, or maybe even because of the weather, but now she sat in the back of a truck leading to a dangerous combat zone, and she just regrets not thanking him properly.  

[am3mb3r123]

hi yes i’m watching the Bad Batch arc of season 7 for the millionth time so here are this rewatch’s thoughts for all four episodes:

Marshall Commander Cody, highest ranked clone in the GAR: “let’s just wait until we’re in enemy airspace to debrief this highly important mission”

watching TBB inflict damage is always so much cooler than reading it, thanks aphantasia

wat tambor can suck a dick

Rex having both his greatest hope and worst fear confirmed is fucking *chefs kiss*

everytime they zoom in on Hunter it’s like a bad video game cut scene and i love it

poor Rex, Anakin puts him through so much

i will never get over Crosshair using Tech’s shoulder as a stabilization

god i wish TBB tv show showed more of Hunter giving incredibly specific orders in increasingly vague numbers

did i mention wat tambor can suck a dick?

yah know what? i’ll say it. Cross deserved that punch from Rex

TBB theme behind Anakin trying to brace Rex for Echo not being there?? kill me now

“Yeah, it’s a lift”

“His mind is ours” STFU TAMBOR

THE IMPLICATIONS THAT ECHO HAS BEEN RELIVING THE CITADEL FOR what TWO YEARS HELP

Anakin sees Echo back from the dead and doesn’t bat a fucking eye he’s seen so much since the start of this war

Wrecker blowing up Echo’s chamber so they can’t use it again warms my heart look at how much Wrecker cares!! (excuse me while i refrain from my full emotionally intelligent Wrecker rant)

I FORGOT ECHO JUMPED ON THE KEERADECK BY HIMSELF MINUTES AFTER WAKING UP FROM A MEDICAL COMA

so much time is devoted to the battle between the techo union and the TBB/Rex and Anakin/the Poltechs and i genuinely just want so much more of it

saying “hopefully it’s gonna be just like old times” to a man who’s been kept as a science experiment for two(?) years is insane

the narrator will not let us forget that Echo’s an ARC Trooper and i’m so grateful for it

whoever decided to give Echo a scomp arm i am kissing you on the mouth

“to be blunt” Tech you’ve never not been blunt in your entire life

has no one informed Admiral Trench that his “algorithm” has been compromised!?

Windu trying the “can we not?” method with the battle droids is so funny to me

“if it makes you feel better, it isn’t my plan” Anakin you little shit

unrelated but since when is the entire back of Jesse’s helmet blue??

Anakin wasn’t super justified in cutting off half of Admiral Trench’s limbs and then killing him, but who boy i love watching him go from Jedi to Jedi-adjacent to Sith

god i love Wrecker, if you’ve made it this far and have Wrecker-centric fics to recommend let me know

and, finally, love seeing TBB give a clean salute to Rex and knowing that they’re only doing it bc of Echo lmao

[bellysoupset]

OKAY. Hi. Im finally free for long long enough to come chat.

I have so much stuff to say I literally went through your blog down to my ask where you said COME BACK HERE (lmaoo) and made a whole list in my notes app so that i don’t forget anything

(dw im gonna send a bunch of separate asks so that it doesn’t clog up your whole dash)

first of all, sounds like we have the same handwriting??? i was thinking oh mines closest to leo + bella and then i read the tags and we have the exact same traits?? wtf. so cool. also jon and luke having rich kid handwriting is so funny.

oohhh and bella??? 😳😳😳 like i KNOW (i think) she isn’t pregnant because you’ve said that’s not a plot you want to pursue rn. but alsoo what the hell. even if she isn’t, i can’t wait to read about her and luke talking about it.

(speaking of bell and luke talking, i’ve been LOVING the little snippets of them just hanging out and vibing) (bella crying for leo was so insanely sweet btw, she’s such a sweetheart) (also scary) (hot) (i’m getting off track)

loved the picking up the car fic so much!! jon and luke are soooo sibling coded it’s insane. also luke revving the car and zooming past them was so hot. and jonah’s “crush them”?? they’re BROTHERS!!!! i love reading stories of your characters just being idiots together <3

and bella going into that shop looking all sweet just to Destroy that old man was sooo funny. she’s so hot?? 🍄

okayy so 1. forgot to mention in the last ask : luke is so stupidly protective of bella lmfao. him being mad at leo for just Being There was so funny 2. jon being the baby of the group is one of my favourite things about him <3 he’s baby 🩷 3. the boxing class fic is soo cool. i love jonah and bella’s interactions!! need to see more of them together! they’re so perfectly bitchy with each other. also did i ask for something similar AGES ago or did i just think about it and forget to actually say anything? 4. jonah and leo’s reunion was soooo cute!!!i adore clingy jonah. (speaking of, i was re reading the fic where jonah gets sick at a medical convention with wendy and gets back home and is all bossy about cuddling leo, and it’s SO. CUTE.) and then finally leo getting sick was **chefs kiss** (ps. the supporting your partners forehead while they puke thing is so hot. who said that.) and jonah!! missing rubbing leo’s back as he throws up!! Sap. Peak simp behaviour fr. Didn’t realise there was competition to Luke for the Pathetic Simp title. 🍄

Hi there 🍄!!! How are you? Missing you loads, I hope life is treating you kindly, even if busy!

God, my handwriting is a mess, I was always the kid who showed up to class with one (1) singular black pen and no patience. Do you also do the Leo thing of saving up pages?

Bell definitely wasn't pregnant, but it was a fun time getting asks begging her not to be 😭😭 And yeah, she loves her little found family so much!! All of them, they're her home and she's a tough cookie, but she hates to see them hurting!

Luke is Golden Retriever coded in every sense of the word. Friendly and goofy and loud, but super protective.

I really do need to write more of the Bitchy Group, which in my head is Jon, Wen, Bell and now... Max. For clarification, Leo is hella bitchy but to me he's just the bitchy part of the trio that is Luke/Vin/Leo 🙈 Does this make any sense?

I'm looking forward to introducing Max to the group and what new units mind come up

Now. Men were made to do two things: simp and be queasy. As far as I was told 😎

[soulofapatrick]

Not a One Night Stand - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Your first week in Jackson doesn't go as planned but Tommy is there to protect you and help you forget. Part three of the Instant Attraction series

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of past attempted SA; male and female receiving smut (consensual) 

Y/N’s POV

I’d been given my assignments from Maria the very next day, I’d be taking the route up to the cabin in the mountains with a patrol leader until I was trusted enough to them on my own. It meant that Tommy and I rarely got to see each other, random kissing in passing or a quick ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ as we were on separate schedules. It was driving me insane, having to come home to an empty house and just fall asleep without any interactions. 

Daniel - my patrol partner - is nice but he’s too quiet and weird. He tries to be all silent and wise but it doesn’t work. He just seems a little creepy with the way his beady eyes try to undress me when we’re trotting along, those stupid eyes stuck on places on my body that shouldn’t be. It makes me shower and scrub myself clean every time I get home and even then I still feel dirty. I want to swap but I can’t as Maria’s orders are final. 

That quickly changes when we come back from a certain patrol, about a week into my patrols, and Daniel is trotting through the gates with definitely a broken wrist and nose as well as a budding black eye that will be very much visible by morning. Maria approaches at the sight of him, stopping short when I come cantering in after him. I’m jumping off of Indiana - my horse - and storming my way towards Daniel and he’s cowering away. 

“Now now baby girl,” arms are grabbing me but I’m struggling against them, seething with rage, “What happened?”

“He tried to grope me in the cabin.” I snap and suddenly those arms are gone and Daniel’s out for the count with Tommy standing over him with a fist still raised. Maria finally interjects: telling me and Tommy to go home while ordering others to help get Daniel to the medical bay and she’ll deal with him when she wakes. 

I’m ripping off my jacket, hoodie and shirt as soon as Tommy has the door shut, my skin feeling dirty with Daniel’s grabbing hands. It’s as if Tommy understands because suddenly a sense of calm washes over me when familiar hands replace those slimy ones and I’m leaning back against his chest, letting my eyes slip closed. 

“Where?” Tommy asks, voice shaking with anger and there’s also a hint of guilt as if he could have done something to protect me. I can protect myself, it took nearly everything in me not to shoot Daniel when he tried his luck. Lucky for him he’s only got broken bones, but I should have done so much worse- “Y/N.”

I take a deep breath, moving Tommy’s hands to my hips and stomach, just above the waistband of my jeans. He inhales sharply, spinning me around and pressing my back to the wall before sinking to his knees. I should feel scared or panicked by Tommy’s actions after Daniel’s attempt but I can’t seem to feel anything but want, trust and love for the black haired man looking up at me with those dark eyes. I caress his cheek lightly and he turns his head to kiss my open palm before he focuses his attention on where Daniel’s hands made contact with my skin. 

Sweet kisses replace the stinging sensation on my skin, his hands on my hip and thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles into them. It has me relaxing my weight against the wall, letting my eyes slip shut and I just focus on the way he’s mumbling about never letting anyone lay a finger on me again and singing praises about my body. The calloused pads of his fingers hook under the waistband of my jeans, looking up at me for consent as he darts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. I just reach down, curling my right hand in his hair, trying not to let the pain show on my face as the split knuckles pull apart again. He sees it though and is grabbing my hand, face softening and he’s rising to his feet again. 

“Tommy.”  

“After baby girl, after.” He soothes, pressing a chaste and heartfelt kiss to my lips before leading me upstairs to his room. He sits me on the bed before disappearing to the bathroom to get the med kit before he’s sitting next to me again. There’s not much to Tommy’s room but every item in his room screams Tommy. He’s got a few pictures littered around, most in cracked or broken frames-

I’m hissing in pain when the damp cloth covered in disinfectant is dapped against the dried and caked on blood. Tommy soothes me, telling me about his morning and how he and Joel were talking about their childhoods. Apparently both of them wanted to be singers but ended up being contractors. Contractors were people who build all sorts of things and were paid for it. Doesn’t sound too bad of a job. 

“There, all done baby girl.” 

“Baby girl.” I echo, his face breaking into a breathtaking smile that has me flushing red and eyes going down to my now patched knuckles. He’s moving around, putting things away until suddenly a familiar shirt lands by my feet. It has my head flying up to him standing in front of me in just his jeans. My hands move of their own accord, tracing my fingertips over the multitude of scars covering the softly defined sun-kissed skin. It has him inhaling sharply when my nails lightly drag down from his chest to the waistband of his jeans, taking in every bump and crevice of his abs until my fingers find that happy trail of dark hairs leading south. His chest is rising and falling quickly as I make quick work of unbuckling his belt then unbuttoning his jeans, tugging them down his legs until he’s able to kick them aside. 

My eyes are widening at the heavy tent in his boxers because I can already tell he’s huge. I don’t care though, leaning forwards to suck him through the fabric and his head is falling back with a groan and whine of ‘tease’. Not wanting him to change his mind about this I quickly pull his boxers down, swallowing at the way he springs free and oh fuck he’s big. Tommy’s opening his mouth to probably say we don’t have to do this but I will actually scream if he stops now when he’s so close. To shut him up I lean forwards again, giving the weeping head kitten licks and guiding Tommy’s hand to my hair. 

Before he can do anything I swallow as much of him down as I can, looking up at him between my lashes as I suck him. He lets out the dirtiest moan I've ever heard, making me groan around his length. My eyes flutter shut when he grips my hair tightly, pulling hard and bucking his hips forwards so he’s hitting the back of my throat. It turns me on even more and in approval I drag my teeth lightly down his length, making his hips jerk and me gag. 

I would keep doing this for as long as he keeps letting out those all consuming moans and his hand tugs on my hair but he’s pulling my mouth all too quickly, “Fuck baby girl, you carry on like that and I’m gonna cum,” I try to capture the tip between my lips but he holds my head out of reach, “You make me cum and no sex.” 

In this moment in time I don’t care, I just want to watch him come apart because of me and his grip on my hair loosening enough to take him in all at once. It takes a few seconds of teasingly swirling my tongue around the tip before Tommy’s lips are thrusting forwards, causing tears to build behind my eyes from holding back the urge to gag, “Oh fuck baby girl, hollow your cheeks out for me.” He murmurs, other hand coming to cup my jaw, eyes meeting mine and thumb rubbing my cheeks softly as he thrusts. I just do everything in my power not to gag until his dark eyes slide shut, a low moan leaving his lips and his hips stuttering, that bitter liquid hitting the back of my throat and some spilling down the corner of my mouth. 

Instead of disappearing into the bathroom like other men I know would he lets me go, growling out lightly for me to get undressed. I comply, almost tripping over myself to get my jeans and underwear off. It has Tommy laughing, kneeling down and helping me before he’s pushing me back on the bed. His hands grip my legs, yanking me forwards until I’m by the edge, my legs spread and completely exposed. His umber eyes flicking up to meet mine before he’s focusing back on my leaking core, delving forwards and licking one strip between my folds with the flat of his tongue. It sends a jolt through me and his arms are wrapping around my thighs to hold me in place when I start to wiggle away as it’s been so long. Every move of Tommy’s tongue is precise and has my back arching off the bed which is soon pressed back down by a broad hand, making me moan even more. My eyes pretty much roll back into my head when a finger circles my crying opening, my hips rolling down to get it to breach but Tommy teases until I’m a begging mess, “Please Tommy.” The finger immediately curls inside on me and I’m suddenly struggling to breathe because oh fuck the pleasure radiating through me. It’s tensing every muscle in my body and my hands in flying to his curly locks, tugging hard as he focuses his attention on the sensitive nub. 

“T-tommy,” I whimper and a second finger is added, the pace picking up as my walls start to flutter around the digits. I can feel the pressure building and my toes are curling as my hand tightens in his hair, causing him to moan. The vibrations of the moan is the final straw and suddenly the coil snaps and I’m trying to close my legs with the pleasure that has the corners of my vision whiting out as Tommy continues what he’s doing as I ride out my high. I think I cry out his name but I’m sure, fading in and out of reality until it becomes too much and I’m pulling his head away by his hair. My chest heaving as I finally catch a glimpse of him: his moustache and chin soaked in my juices, pride in those umber eyes and I think I almost come again when he licks the fingers that were just inside me. 

I just let myself fall backwards, eyes slipping shut as Tommy bustles about, disappearing from the room then coming back, the door shutting behind him, “Come on baby girl.” He’s nudging me up the bed, pulling the duvet back enough for me to slip under it and sliding in next to me before manhandling me closer to him. He grips my chin, drawing my malleable body up into a lazy and sleep filled kiss before I’m laying my head on his chest, arm around his waist and his around my shoulder. 

“Not a one night stand?” I find myself mumbling and his chest rumbles with amusement. 

“No fucking way. Not a one night stand.”

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Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

[maircries]

Mair’s Episode Thirty Three Relisten:

We are once again feeling a little insane about the decima project

Can’t wait for those vague hilbert feels

Maxwell and Jacobi really had me fucking going in this episode

Kepler became mildly likable at this moment until I realized it was just a fucked up power play

Like if I thought he had actually given a fuck about Doug’s health and decision id be much happier

I also just really really love Doug’s writings and emotions here, like how he’s both relieved but scared but curious and everything else

Which further proves my idea that Doug would’ve volunteered for the decima part of the space assignment if he had been told about it!!!

“Thats Mr. Ballistics Dummy to you all” I want to kiss him on the mouth

God I love their relationship so much

God the fucking mailroom comment at the line killed me, the single most unforgivable thing Jacobi says in this show

“We try not to be total monsters” weeping

This really is so hard to listen to actually

No one can convince me that Eiffel wouldn’t have participated in this study voluntarily. The ONLY reason he’s so upset about it is because it was done without his consent and all that it entails for his life and choices. When Kepler says the project is terminated after hilbert mentions the improvements, he becomes so hesitant about calling it quits until Kepler points out that it was done to him without his consent. I’m so insane about this.

I’m not okay at all about how easily they managed to trick Lovelace (inventor of paranoia) into thinking they were safe, friendly

“The hell do you think we are? UPS?” God. It just. It fucks me up. Truly THE most monstrous thing Jacobi does or says. Because everything else had a reason, even if it wasn’t very good or straight up awful. But delivering those letters? They could’ve scrubbed any damning evidence of what really happened. They just didn’t. And I don’t even blame Jacobi for that. But why did he have to lie to her about it? Why couldn’t he just say, probably not, or just straight up no. I’m unwell

God, the fact that hilbert

He doesn’t ask Doug to forgive him, he doesn’t even start with his bettering humanity spiel, he doesn’t ask for TRUST. He just asks that Doug not trust Kepler. I’m.

I want the hilbert Kepler backstory STAT

“Tell that to the fingernails you’re not supposed to have.” Cold. Killer delivery. Ate and left no crumbs.

Okay but also, on second listen, I really really am so curious how much of the impossible regeneration of cells is due to decima and how much of it was because of lovelaces blood. Was it both? Give me answers

“You’re saying that it works?” THIS MAN WOULDVE VOLUNTEERED IF. YOU. HAD. TOLD HIM!!!!!!

I’m okay

I’m so glad this episode took half place in a medical office because damn do I need a doctor rn