#fluff and angst and humor

[cosmic-adventurers]

This story is for @fluff-cember (Alternate Prompt: Home-cooked Meals), @hurtcember (Day 12: Cry), and @ao3tagbingo (Tag: Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Rating: T

Pairing: Damon/Elena

Fluff, angst, humor, emotional hurt/comfort, banter, mutual pining

Word count: 3834

Summary: When a sudden storm prevents them from following up on a lead to look for Stefan, Damon suggests baking some pignoli cookies to cheer Elena up – but maybe there’s more behind her weird behavior than he realizes. Takes place in early S3.

Elena had been playing the weirdest game of hide-and-seek with him for days. Dodging him like she'd suddenly developed an allergy for Damon cooties one minute, and them desperately seeking him out - flimsy non-excuse in hand - the next.

On top of that, it was the first rainy afternoon in weeks, spreading through several states, which put a sudden halt to his secret plans to track Stefan and Klaus in the Smokies, based on a half-reliable lead at best. In fact, all the forecasts predicted golden, sunny weather, with only the slightest chance of rain, and the sudden storm seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Some local coven was probably agonizing that their precious herbs weren't getting enough of Mother Nature's tears, and overdid it on the rain ritual. Typical. Or maybe chaos was just in the air.

Speaking of.

Damon leaned against the doorway to the parlor of the Boarding House, swirling a tumbler of bourbon as he watched the whirlwind of pen strokes and turmoil write herself into a storm to rival the one railing outside. Sometimes their eyes would meet, and as soon as she was caught, a delectable blush would coat her cheeks, diverting her attention to the journal once more. Occasionally, she would pause and stare at seemingly nothing – her gaze filled with a distraught kind of confusion. But then she would wrap her fingers around her vervain necklace, and a profound sense of calm would kiss her features once more – her eyes would flutter closed and her lips would curl into a smile, as though the necklace itself gave her strength, a steady reservoir of joy. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that those moments were bittersweet. As nice as it was to see the anxiety leave her spirit, however fleetingly, the knowledge that it was all thanks to thoughts of his saintly brother made the whole thing taste like ash.

This behavior, where Elena alternated between seeking him out and avoiding him, caught in a loop of soft vulnerability and sharp frustration, began on her birthday last week.

He chalked it up to her learning that her sanctimonious, morally-upright Saint Stefan was more Hyde than Jekyll, but that still didn’t explain the odd moments he’d find her staring at him with a look suspiciously like longing, only to quickly turn away and pretend to busy herself with the journal lying upside down on her lap when he caught her. Or, on the off chance that the notebook was aligned correctly, she’d begin scribbling in it like someone possessed, seemingly desperate to free herself of the persistent something that kept her captive.

He assumed it was some kind of tragic ode of longing for his pompous brother, filled with melodramatic rhetoric about the noble virtues of his Hero Hair and broody disposition.

But that wasn’t even the really weird part.

No, what really puzzled him were some of the telltale signs that he’d already been accustomed to since they’ve met, only dialed up to eleven: her dilated pupils when he got a little too close; her racing heartbeat whenever some part of her would brush some part of him, accidentally-on-purpose; the enticing shift in her scent whenever she caught sight of him, that stirred something deep and primal within him. But Damon knew that she’d wanted him for a while, so what changed? Even then, he knew that it wasn’t just physical attraction – there were feelings behind the yearning glances she’d cast his way when she was certain he was otherwise occupied – but this took it to an entirely different level.

And whatever it was, it was starting to drive him crazy.

 All right. Enough of this. He could only take so much tense silence. He swallowed the remaining bourbon in his tumbler, and swaggered over to her, hoping to remind her what fun actually looks like.

 “Oh, Stefan! My Broody Knight in Rock-Hard Hair Gel!” Damon mocked in a dramatic falsetto, lifting an imaginary journal with Shakespearean flair to emote a staged reading with one hand, and using the other to clutch at his heart. “The caverns of your frown lines run so deep, that I find myself lost and adrift in the memory of your mopey silences –”

 Elena raised an eyebrow, finally putting her notebook down. Ooh, and look – right-side-up this time. A solid 30% track record. “What’s the matter, Damon? Not getting enough attention?”

 “Not even close!” Damon said, giving her a sultry wink before resuming his performance. “Your moral superiority –”

 “Is that what you think I write about?” She rolled her eyes theatrically, but Damon saw the upward twitch of her lips that she tried to hide – mission accomplished.

 “And lo! How I’ve been forced to part with thy tragic perfection – whose visage alone makes all the forest animals weep – though perhaps it’s with relief. And instead, must endure the company of your much wittier, sexier, more charming brother!”

 Elena tapped her chin thoughtfully, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “Fake falsetto Elena raises a great point, you know. The ‘wittier, sexier, more charming brother,’ might be growing an ego large enough to form its own gravitational field, and that puts her in danger,” she expressed in mock-concern, punctuating his title with air quotes.

 Damon shrugged, a lazy grin forming as walked over to the wet cart and poured himself another glass. “Being a danger magnet’s kind of her thing.”

 She rewarded him with an infectious laugh that warmed something in his chest with a delicious ache. “So, is this the plan? Spend the rest of the afternoon making bad guesses about my journal?”

 “Nope!” He grabbed his phone, bringing up a search engine. The truth was that her behavior began to worry him. Clearly Stefan’s sacrifice was weighing heavily on her. And while baby bro was busy earning his Martyr Merit Badge with the Original Drama Lord, Elena continued to spiral. The absolute last thing she needed was this, and after losing both pairs of her adopted parents and birth parents – forced to watch three of them die violently – this could have finally set her over the edge. “Is it my turn to make bad guesses?” She responded with a grin of her own.

 “We’re going to make pignoli cookies,” he replied with a wink. “I just need to pick up some almond paste and pine nuts.” A quick Google search told him that they carried them both in the supermarket in the next town over. Frowning in contemplation, he decided it would probably be faster if he just ran.

 When he came back less than ten minutes later, he was less-than-surprised to find her frozen in the same position with a blank look on her face, looking past what he was sure were fascinating figures on the wall. 

 “How did you get back here so fast?” she finally asked, clearly startled when he walked in, his now-soaked fitted tee clinging to him in a way that made her pupils instantly blow up in size, followed immediately by an adorable blush and a refusal to meet his eyes. There she is.

 Damon rolled his eyes theatrically. “I’m a vampire, Elena. We have a little thing called ‘super-speed’ – at least those of us not beholden to the whims of Bambi’s new workout regimen.”

She hopped off the couch, surprising him by leaving her precious journal unattended to peek into the bags.

He playfully smacked her hands away when she reached for the pine nuts, 

"I didn’t know you could bake.”

 “I have lots of hidden talents,” he said, letting his tone drop suggestively, while tearing the almond paste into smaller pieces. “But I like cooking more. Baking’s a bit too precise for me. I like something a little more … experimental.” He extended the last word suggestively, meeting her gaze with that same flirtatious flash of his eyes that he’d been expressly told not to do. What did she call it? ‘The eye thing?’

 She instantly ducked her head trying to hide her physical reaction, which suited every smug instinct in him just fine. She must have picked up on it though – it’s like she had a special radar for when he got too cocky in her presence, and immediately met his gaze again, raising her eyebrows in playful challenge. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 “What do you think it means?”

 She tilted her head to the side cheekily. “I’m not sure this is the appropriate time to discuss all your kinks.”

 He gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, Elena! Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant experimenting with different flavor profiles.” Before she could respond, he dashed up to Stefan’s room and back, retrieving the stuffed teddy bear she’d been keeping there when she spent the night.

“Is she like this with you, too, Gummi?” he asked the bear, exaggerated concern written all over his features. His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Does she sexually harass you, too?”

“All the time, Damon!” he cried in an even higher falsetto than before, really straining his voice, while wiggling the teddy’s little hands and feet in front of his face. 

 “Show me, Gummi. Show me where Elena’s hurt you.” He directed the little paw to point right at his heart, placing his own hand over it in a dramatic display of compassion for the stuffed bear.

“I just want her to love me,” Damon-as-Gummi cried, the sound of her laughter reducing everything inside him to jelly, and urging him to continue, unable to fight the uncharacteristically foolish grin on his face, “but Elena won’t stop talking about sex.”

He turned to Elena, wagging his finger at her in a display of disappointment. “You need to learn to control yourself, Elena. Poor Gummi’s traumatized.”

She grinned deviously, surprising him with a decidedly sultry step forward, so much that she was able to yank the bear from his hands without him noticing. “Nah, he’s just a prude. He’s supposed to be my Emotional Support Plushie, there to listen to all my wicked fantasies, but clearly he can’t keep up.”

Damon’s physiological response was immediate, his pupils darkening his eyes with desire as he narrowed the gap between them, their breaths practically mingling in their shared proximity as his gaze dropped to her lips. He told himself it was to call her bluff. “Maybe Gummi just needs a little break. I can be your Emotional Support Plushie, Elena. You can tell me all your wicked fantasies.”

Her heartbeat accelerated again and he was crushed to catch a glimpse of regret on her face as she grasped her necklace, stepping away from him to catch her breath. “Let’s get those cookies started?” Her voice cracked with false cheer, breaking the tension-filled spell in the room.

 “Why are you using a food processor, anyway, Mister I’m-a-super-speedy-vampire? Shouldn’t you be able to do it by hand?” Elena asked in challenge, leaning over the counter playfully as she watched Damon add the almond paste, confectioner’s sugar, egg white, salt, and vanilla into the machine. “Since you’re ‘too cool for pilates with Bambi,’” she mocked impishly.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he drawled, grabbing a whisk from one of the drawers and replacing the items into a large bowl. “The fragile human mind can only be exposed to so much cool at a time, and you’ve been spending most of your time with a guy whose idea of fun is quoting Puritan prayer books from memory.” Within seconds, though, his hand began to spin in a veritable blur, earning a squeal of delight from Elena.

“That’s so cool!” She leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes at the speedy motions before pulling back, a cheeky grin on her face. “You should make meringue next.”

When the cookies were finished, Elena grabbed one as soon as it wouldn’t scald to the touch, moaning at the taste. “Oh my God, these are amazing!” She leaned back on the couch, an expression of pure bliss on her face.

Damon’s throat constricted, and the promise of being able to leave with the receding rain almost felt like a blessing. He didn’t know how much longer he could spend in her presence and still hide everything he felt. “I thought we agreed you’d stop making sex noises in front of Gummi, and at least try to respect his boundaries.” 

She threw a pillow at him in retaliation, which he neatly dodged, but was instantly on her feet as soon as she saw him grab his keys, her face awash with consternation. “Where are you going?”

“The rain’s clearing, and I’ve got something I need to check out,” he told her, thumbing through his phone distractedly.

“You can’t!” The words were out before she could stop herself, her entire body hurtling forward to stop him. Her hand shot out, holding his wrist in vice grip – surprisingly strong for a human. That’s when he realized it was infused with panic – a fight or flight response. Her heart was racing again, but this time it wasn’t from desire. He could practically feel the palpable fear, smell the sharp spike in her adrenaline.

He cocked his head to the side to study her. What’s gotten her into such a tizzy about him leaving? “And why’s that?”

Her panicked eyes flicked to his ribs, where he was staked during their previous bout of Klaus and Stefan’s creepy take on Where’s Waldo meets Hansel and Gretel, only they chose to substitute breadcrumbs with reports of disassembled bodies.

“I’m coming with you!”

“Nope! The Sun’s already set, and by the time I get there, the Smokies are going to be crawling Remus Lupin’s less hygienic cousins. You’d only slow me down.”

When her heart sped up even more, Damon began to seriously entertain the idea of distracting her and sprinkling the cookie in her hand with some of his blood in case she went into cardiac arrest. Still holding his wrist in a death grip, she walked over to the window in the darkened parlor, gracelessly dragging him along. If not for them being rounded in terror, Damon would think that her eyes in this moment – sparkling fields of midnight velvet, reflecting twin golden marbles of the Full Moon – were one of the most breathtaking sights of his life.

And then he realized the real reason for her anxiety. She must be worried about him. Her mopey knight.

So that’s why she’s been so reluctant to let him throw himself into the fray. She needs him to get his brother back. Something told Damon a stake to the heart would have hurt less, but he refused to let her see it, his ever-present smirk on his face yet again.

 And yet, there was something so genuine in the way she looked at him – the way her hand dug into his wrist, like she sincerely cared. Sometimes when he caught her gaze, he could almost swear that she was in lo –

 No, there was no way. That was definitely wishful thinking.

“We…” her voice faltered. “We need to make more cookies – for Jenna, and Jeremy – and Ric!”

“Right.” She’d been doing this more and more – creating some silly excuse to keep him from running into danger, and he was getting increasingly tired of her dancing around her actual reasons. One of these days – someday very soon – he’d make her admit it. He knew she ‘cared,’ as she was fond of telling him, but this felt deeper – more poignant, more real.

“Okay, so that should take another hour or two – tops.”

“And after that –!” Now both of his wrists were in her hands. “I should probably make some for Bonnie and Caroline; and Matt, and Tyler – oh! And we can make an extra batch for the Lockwood Fourth of July Party!”

“Why so much concern over the Lockwoods? Are we trying to infiltrate them by posing as the Werewolf Girls Scout Troop?”

“And – and you have to stay here, and help me bake them,” she continued, her voice stilted. “Because otherwise, I’m going to burn down your house.” She leveled a mock-threatening gaze at him that he found absolutely adorable. “I can’t be trusted around a stove, remember?”

He couldn’t stand to see her so worried, moving to cup her face gingerly, the jocularity in his voice replaced a softness that she'd become unnervingly adept at bringing out. "What's this really about?"

She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight enough to hurt, as he felt her body shudder against him. After the initial shock receded, he wrapped his arms around her trembling body, soothing the softening cries with gentle strokes on her back, her hair. "Okay there, Randy. I know you want to see me in a wet tee shirt again, but you could just ask," he attempted playfully. She responded with a sob-chuckle and a smack against his back, after which she held him even tighter. His demeanor instantly softened, a curious ache taking place within him - one even more painful than his increasingly breaking heart. The sight of her in so much pain was agonizing to him.  “Don’t worry, Elena. I’ll bring your saintly soulmate back to you in one piece. I’ll polish his halo and everything so that not a strand that Hero Hair is out of place.”

She looked at him strangely – as though through him. There was a resigned, almost penetrating sadness in her gaze. Her lips quirked into a wistful smile that didn’t meet her eyes, until the laugh that she couldn’t stifle softened them with mirth. “I wouldn’t call him ‘saintly.’ But he’s not as bad as he pretends to be, either.”

Stefan? The guy who could give hypocritical church ladies a run for their money in the self-righteousness department, pretending to be bad? Maybe her spiral’s even worse than he thought.

“Look, he’s still the same pompous, annoyingly self-righteous douche we all know and love; and once Klaus stops pulling his perfect little puppet strings, you’ll have your mopey boyfriend back.”

 “Right. Klaus.”

“What you’re feeling now is just temporary,” he said, the softness in his voice cutting into his own heart. “You’ll have your sullen savior back, and everything will be right as rain. Happily ever after. True love conquers all.” He was making himself sick. Damn, he felt pathetic.

 “I –”She stole another quick glance at his lips before her eyes shot back to his. “I’m not sure that’s possible anymore. We can't always get what we want, Damon. Sometimes things ... things make it too late. It would cause too much damage.”

 “Ooh, look at you, all doom and gloom. What happened to all that annoying optimism?”

 “Because being with me might cost him something else that’s important to him, and I’m not about to let him lose that – not when he’s fought for so long to get it back.”

 “The blood lust issues?”

 “Sure,” she said, glancing away, unable to meet his eyes.

“What could possibly be more important than you?” he asked quietly, the question pouring forth from his heart without his knowledge or permission.

The expression on her face was so achingly vulnerable that it nearly broke him. Her hand gingerly touched her necklace again just as her eyes fluttered to his lips. The sound of her racing heartbeat nearly eclipsed that of the one shattering his heart every time she reminded him with that one gesture that it’ll always be Stefan . It was so cacophonous that he barely heard her next words. “Someone who isn’t temporary.”

“Why would you be temporary? Aren’t you two supposed to be written in the stars as the paragons of melodramatic love confessions and dreamy sighs?”

“Damon, I –” Her voice affected a gentle, almost apologetic tone - tough it was obvious to him that something inside her was breaking and every fiber within him wanted to heal it, to make it whole. “We’ve had our fun pretending – and it was nice; it almost made me feel normal – but I can’t forget what I am. I’m the doppelganger. I doubt I’ll survive the year –”

“Don’t you say that!” His response was visceral, immediately, the energy sucked from the room as just the thought of that was enough to utterly pain him. He forced himself to breathe naturally, evenly, letting his hands fall to take hers and press them to his heart. “Takes all the fun out of outsmarting Klaus and the rest of the rest of the emotionally-constipated Shakespearean tragedy of a family. Can’t let them win.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but didn’t argue. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his, squeezing them for several whole seconds before speaking. “We’re out of ingredients, if we’re spending the rest of the night baking. Let’s go pick up some more.”

“I can get them faster by myself,” he countered.

“You’d better come right back. No reckless detours.” She nodded, taking a step back. “The cookies await!”

“Relax! There and back. Like a one-vamp ultra-sexy hurricane."

“Mm,” she hummed, scrutinizing him skeptically through narrowed eyes. “Sorry if I don’t take your word for it, and put my own insurance policy in place.”

“Oh, what’s that? More melodramatic entries about Stef's noble attack on the evil ozone layer, one hair product at a time?”

“Okay, well, remember, if you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’m setting your house on fire.” To punctuate her point, she clasped her hands at waist level, perfectly mimicking the saccharine image of an innocent fairy tale princess.

Uh-huh. Wow. Well, he always suspected she was just as crazy as he was.  A sly grin captured his face, as yet another piece of his heart merrily jumped into her hand, belonging to her forever.

“And just how many batches are we making?”

Her eyes flicked to the now-healed space on his forearm where he once had a werewolf bite, then turned to the window, the soft moonlight illuminating her face in an ethereal glow that squeezed a part of him he thought forgotten before he met her. She met his gaze again, he could plainly see her eyes shining with unshed tears. “As many as it takes.” There was determination in the delicate affection of her voice.

“Okay, Miss Arsonist. I’d better not see a single match near my bourbon when I come back, or anything I make for you from now on is coming out of a box." When a hint of trepidation remained on her face, he felt his own demeanor soften, letting his thumb gently stroke her cheekbone.

"Promise me."

For a second, Damon could almost swear he saw something in the aching vulnerability in her expression, the same longing, the same love that threatened to tear his still-beating undead heart from his chest and place it in her waiting hands - to crush, to squeeze, to do with as she wished. And like an idiot, he would gladly let her, because even pained seconds in her warmth were infinitely better than the coldness of the world without her.

"Fifteen minutes, Elena. I promise."

[rebelmeg]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark Characters: Pepper Potts, Tony Stark, Christine Everhart Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Interviews, Pre-Relationship, Awesome Pepper Potts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, rumors and gossip, Christine is a jerk, Boundaries, and how to respect them Summary:

Pepper is a broadcast journalist. Tony is a big-time CEO. When their chemistry makes them friends at first sight, it's really only a matter of time until they finally turn into something more.

Notes: For my @tonystarkbingo​ square T5 - friends to lovers, @lyricalescape​ G2 - Weight of the World!

Extra special thanks to Faustess, who figured out why the original version of this fic was NOT working! (It was missing the banter! How could I not have included the banter?!)

[celestie0]

in holy matriphony | series masterlist.

gojo satoru x reader [18+] | angst, fluff, smut

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - next door neighbor!gojo 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 department, 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 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 warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, 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, some choso x reader, some suguru x reader, some crippling debt x reader; 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 status. ongoing

ᰔ word count. 86.7k

ᰔ taglist. closed

☾·̩͙꙳ ao3 link :: header art by @/3aem

chapter index.

ch1. he said yes! congrats!

ch2. you may now kiss the bride

ch3. domestic encounters

ch4. in a mother's eyes

ch5. child's play

ch6. the in-laws

ch7. if you wanna get groceries

ch8. two steps back

ch9. pending…

drabbles.

no1. pending...

headcanons.

official headcanons pt1. fluff & crack | link

a note from the author. hello! my name is ellie, and this is my second long fic series called 'in holy matriphony' which i began posting earlier this year in april! this started off as such a small lil concept idea trashing on the american healthcare system, and now it's a fullblown fic. i have sooo much planned for this series, so admittedly it will be a long one, but i am so grateful to anyone that tags along for the ride :””) please let me know if i missed any tags or warnings! and for those who may want to know before reading, this series will have a happy ending <3

series tags. #in holy matriphony

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight, arranged marriage au.

a.n; fare warning, THIS IS A MONSTER<3 lol

Fuckin' Marry Me Series | First Part | Second Part |

The gentle sound of the scribble your pen makes over the paper, right where it requires your formal signature, is heard louder than you expected in that tense silence. Well, it isn't a bad silence, but more like an anxious one. One that has Bakugou, who is sitting right next to you, literally shaking his right leg up and down continuously, even though you already told him you would do this.

And what does ‘this’ mean? It means you agreed to marry Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki. To help him finally be free from his own mother's clutches.

You had a hard time believing in the whole story he told you when he knocked on your door last Sunday morning –almost tearing down the door actually– after his father died. Even though you had agreed that same day, you asked him for a few days to clear your head a bit. He accepted, respecting your space even at work, which was weird.

A normal day at work always starts with a banter with this same man right at the entrance of the company and it follows until you enter the elevator. Everyone is already used to it, so they ignore both of you. It mostly ends when you have to get off on the floor where your office is, which is one under the one where all heroes keep their hero costumes and get changed. Of course, sometimes the banter would continue if you were assigned to work with Hero Dynamight through the earbuds that connected you at a distance.

That Monday morning though, was different. Weird for everyone who looked at both of you in shock. The moment you stood in front of the other right outside the company, everyone was waiting for it to happen, yet found themselves opening their eyes wide in surprise as you and Bakugou simply bowed slightly in hello and walked towards the building in complete silence. It followed inside the elevator, where he willingly stood next to you –you always stood on each side of it to avoid even accidentally touching. Nobody could believe their eyes. Especially when it was your moment to walk out on your floor and he said, “See ya’ around”, and you turned your head towards him and slightly smiled, murmuring a timidly, “You too. Take care outside.”

That day you weren't assigned to work with him, nor the two days after –in which these same actions and words were repeated by both of you every morning– yet you could feel the whispers and gossip around about this neutral ground between you two. Your boss even called you to his office to ask if everything was okay.

You internally laughed at the situation. It was so normal for you to fight with Bakugou that everyone found it weird and worrisome if you didn't. It was actually hilarious.

Wednesday shift had you entering the office at 5 p.m. and would have you leaving at almost 3 a.m. –if the hero assigned to you didn't get caught in a villain fight around that time. So when you were about to take the elevator and its door opened, you almost bumped into a freshly showered and already leaving Bakugou Katsuki.

“Oh, hey…”

“Hey,” he answered back. Both of you took a step out of the elevator, standing right in front of each other. One of his hands flew to the back of his head, scratching it and making small droplets of his still wet hair fall as he spoke, “I was, ummm, gonna talk to you today… but, umm, your shift…”

“Oh yeah, it's night shift today,” you nodded, hands holding the strap of your bag, trying to look casual and not let the nerves be shown. “Yours finished?”

“Yeah, tomorrow's night shift for me.”

“I know, I'm with you tomorrow,” you smiled.

His eyebrows pulled up, nodding in acceptance, “Cool.”

Yours frown, tilting your head a bit to the side, “Is it? Since when?” Now that you think about it, all that neutral ground between you two was very weird. New, but weird.

He rolled his eyes, hands hiding inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Since I'm trynna marry y–”

“Shhhh! Shut it, not here!” He smirked arrogantly. Ah, there's the comeback of the old annoying Bakugou.

“I–...”

“KATSUKI!” 

A screeching yell made the hairs of your arms stand in alert, completely unexpected for you. Yet for the man in front of you was a sound he was very familiar with. He grunted, his mood completely changing into anger as he turned around towards the yell.

“The fuck are you doing here, old hag?”

Oh. His mother.

You have seen her at a distance before, never actually got to meet her personally or even hear her voice –you were glad about that last particular fact though, she sounded awful.

You didn't miss to recognize the position Bakugou had you at the moment when he turned around and covered your small form behind his massive body from his mother to even acknowledge your presence there. You're grateful for his surprising and kind of sensitive tact. He's giving you an out from that, what you know for sure was going to be, a quite tense moment.

“I fucking told you, you need to hurry! I’m not fucking waiting for you any longer!” She yelled again, not caring at all about the place she was nor the people around in the lobby.

Bakugou looked to the side, taking a very deep breath before pinching his nose. His hand then hung loosely on the side of his body, but he kept opening and closing his hand in a fist. Oh wow, he was really holding himself back.

You didn't know what possessed you to do what you did or why, but you acted before thinking.

Your hand flew towards his, holding his trembling fist tightly. You knew it took him by surprise, but he hid it well by standing straighter, body still hiding you behind him. You knew for a fact that his face didn’t show any emotion other than anger, so nothing was amiss. His arm flexed behind him, bringing yours with his, as his hand opened and held yours tightly back.

This had been the very first time you willingly touched him. The first time you actually ever touched him at all. And your eyes couldn't leave the sight of his big hand fully surrounding yours, making you feel smaller than ever. I mean, you had eyes, he was a freaking hulk next to you. But the warm feeling of it enclosing yours securely made you feel safe, protected. It also felt calloused, a hand that was used every day to bring down bad guys and protect a whole nation, if not the world. Yet the warmth in it made your whole body tingle.

Fuck. What was this?

“I fuckin’ told you not to come in the first place,” he didn't need to yell, his voice sounded loud and clear even at the distance.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!”

You tightened your hold on his hand, just to ground him in support. He sighed, returning the gesture to thank you before saying in his mother's direction, “I'm fuckin’ going, you pain in the ass”, and walked towards her, letting go of your hand.

His mother simply turned and walked in front of him outside of the building. She never realized you had been there the whole time.

The moment had been so stressful, and if that was what Bakugou had to deal with every day since he was born, damn. You actually felt sorry for him.

Thanks to the glass walls of the lobby you could watch the Bakugous walk towards the expensive car waiting for them outside. They were clearly shit-talking to each other the whole way, until before they got inside the car, his mother actually slapped the back of his head strongly. Twice.

A rising rage traveled up your body, hands closing in fists. What the fuck?! Who the fuck did she think she was? Why the hell did she need to fucking hit him like that, twice? Why the hell did she do it at all? Fuck, you were starting to believe in everything Bakugou told you about her.

“You get it now, don't you?” Izuku's voice from behind you made you jump a bit in surprise.

You cleared your throat, looking elsewhere and breathing deeply, trying to clear your head. 

“I don't–”

Izuku's hand raised, making you go silent. “Before you come up with a clever excuse, let me remind you that Kacchan and I have been friends since diapers… and we talk to each other.”

His eyeing made you gulp, but his words were clear enough, “You know then.”

He nodded, hand detaining the elevator’s doors so you both could enter, him after you. “He came to my apartment right after and told me all that happened. I was at the funeral too.”

He didn't need to explain anymore, it was more than clear he was talking about last Sunday when Bakugou asked you to marry him. You knew his father had died sometime Saturday afternoon and that the funeral was held that same night. Bakugou had come to your apartment right after his father had been cremated.

“I know you two fight like cats and dogs all the time, but he's not that bad once you give him a chance. And by what you just saw, I know you understand now why he's always on the defensive.”

You sigh. Damn it, you do. Growing up in an environment like that made you think it was actually a miracle Bakugou turned out the way he did.

“I also know that you agreed to marry him to help him be finally free from his mother,” he confirmed out loud once the doors of the elevator closed and it was just the two of you in there.

“Any advice?”

He chuckled, turning his whole body and looking directly at you, “Be open-minded. Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything.”

You rolled your eyes. Ugh, you were feeling the stress already.

The elevator signaled that you had arrived at your floor, so you sighed, nodding in his way as an answer and walking outside. But before the doors closed, Izuku held them for a bit longer to talk again.

“Also… Be smarter.”

“Than him?” You asked confused.

“Than her.”

And with that, he let the doors close, a smile plastered on his face that told on all the mischief his eyes shined with.

This little… cheeky bastard.

The audacity.

You made a mental note to punch Izuku the next time you bumped into him. On purpose.

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn't get that image of Bakugou being abused by his own mother out of your head. Because yes, it was fucking abuse. And in fucking public! How many times had this happened already? And why the fuck no one had ever said or done anything against it? Even when he was a kid?!

It was outrageous.

And the fact that Bakugou held himself back, because you knew he did, not only because she was his mother but also because she was a woman –and you could bet she fucking used that at her advantage– only spoke about the kind of man he was.

Bakugou Katsuki is a good man.

You took your cell phone out and searched for his contact number, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

You: Make the appointment for this Friday.

His reply didn't take long.

Bakugou K.: Done.

You took a deep breath. The decision was made. And you were not going to back out from it. Or so you hoped.

Another notification made your phone ring and it was another text message.

Bakugou K.: Thank you.

The beginning of a smile threatened to break out from your mouth as you re-read that message several times. Until the loud pip-ing that alerted a villain attack completely distracted you, or more like, brought you back to reality.

The rest of the days went faster than you expected.

The shift on Wednesday ended on time, miraculously. So at exactly 3 a.m. you were turning off your computer and putting your stuff back in your bag. You had several notifications on your phone but didn't feel like giving them your attention at that moment, choosing to concentrate on clearing your space and going back home. You let out several yawns when you got inside the elevator, holding yourself on the handrail, sleep having you on the verge of passing out tired of the stressful days. For some reason, villains chose that week to be more active than usual, which demanded more of your focus and being in constant alert mode.

When the doors finally opened on the lobby floor, you walked towards the check-in clock to mark the end of your shift. You bowed goodbye to the receptionist and walked towards the entrance of the company. For a moment, you entertained your mind with the idea of taking a taxi to get home faster. But damn it, that was expensive, and you were not going to waste money like that. And even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

You sighed, covering your neck as best as you could with your coat once you crossed the doors, and began your walk in the direction you needed to go. It was a very chilly night, but because it was Spring, you didn't expect such cold weather.

You were thinking about how you'd have to resist this coldness until you got home when you looked up and recognized Bakugou's obviously expensive car and him resting against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn't check your messages, short-legs?”

You denied, head shaking, “I finished the shift and packed everything. Wanted to leave as soon as possible…”

He snorted, shaking his head, “Get in. I'll take you home.”

“Oh, it's okay. I can walk…”

He frowned, “The fuck you think I would be here for then? Get in the car, dumbass.”

“Geez. Okay! No need to get grumpy, asshole.”

You rounded his car towards the passenger seat and climbed in. He followed and got on the driver's side.

The inside was warm, as the heater had been on. You smiled gladly, rubbing your freezing-cold hands to warm them up faster.

“Can't believe you were planning to walk home. Are you stupid?”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but Izuku's words invaded your mind.

“…Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything…”

You thought for a moment, and it was actually easier than you thought to figure it out. Bakugou wasn't actually trying to insult you. He was worried that you would walk home that early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, in that weather.

Oh. That changed the perspective entirely.

“Yeah, actually,” you chuckled, hands still rubbing to heat them up. “I can't afford a taxi, and the subway isn't open yet.”

He turned on the car, but his attention was on you, “What you mean you can't afford a stupid taxi? Isn't your pay–…”

You denied, body relaxing a bit over the seat thanks to the warmth as he drove smoothly. You liked warm things. Spring was your favorite season because of it.

“Contrary to common belief, Quirk & Training Specialists don't gain much.”

“What?! Why? I mean… Most of the time is thanks to your area that we heroes are fuckin’ alive.”

“Awww. Thank you for admitting it! Now, would you admit that publicly?”

“Of fuckin’ course I would!”

You smiled, “Well, you would be the first one. Tell me, do you think other heroes would willingly admit that their wins sometimes belong to a ghost that tells them what to do or where to go through their earbuds?”

Your words made him close his mouth. Aha. Touché.

You chuckled, “It's okay, Bakugou. It's my job.”

“Now that I think about it, your name is nowhere to be seen in my reports. It's not even fuckin’ mentioned as a sidekick or something.”

“That's because I'm not a sidekick. I'm just a quirkless person who is observant enough to point you the best way to go. I'm not that important…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher what he meant. He didn't mean to insult you, what he was trying to say is, “don't say that about yourself”.

Wow. Izuku was so right about that advice. You made a mental note to thank him the next time you saw him. After punching him, of course.

The rest of the car ride was silent. But not uncomfortable. The gentle sound of the heater turned on was relaxing enough to even doze you a bit, warm and content.

Bakugou didn't speak until he parked right in front of your apartment building. You immediately noticed you had probably slept the rest of the way.

“I'm sorry, I think I fell asleep.”

“You think?” He chuckled, face looking your way. You snorted back, finding his teasing funny. His crooked smile made tingles run up your arms. Or was it the heater? Yes, that probably was it, the heater.

You cleared your throat and looked down at your seat belt and untied it –wait. You didn't remember putting it on. Did he… Did he put it on you when you fell asleep? Oh, my. You gulped, feeling the tingles run all over your body again. Fuck. You needed to leave that small space you shared with this man, like… now.

But before you did, you looked back at him one more time.

“Thank you… for driving me home,” you pulled a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. You were indeed grateful that you actually didn't have to freeze on your way home, so you bowed slightly too.

You were about to open the door when he spoke.

“Wait,” you turned back at him and watched curiously as he opened the compartment, taking out a small folder.

He pushed it in your direction and looked expectantly at you. You took it, a bit doubtful, not quite understanding what it meant.

“I said I would sign a contract if that's what you wanted. It's just a draft, but I put some items in there that I want you to check. You can add some yourself. And if we both agree, we can sign it.”

Oh. “Oh, okay… I'll check it out and let you know.”

He nodded in response and you finally got out of the car and ran through the shocking cold towards your building. Inside the elevator, you pressed the folder over your chest. This felt way more real than what you felt earlier when you made the final decision and texted him.

But something tasted a bit… bitter. Was this something you had to do on your own? Like, the marriage was between the both of you. And while it wasn’t one out of a loving relationship, it was still something that included both. This contract thing felt like something you needed to sit down and review together.

You decided then.

Your hand searched for your phone in your bag, and ignoring all the notifications, you directly made the call.

Not one ring later, he picked up the call.

“Are you o–...”

“Did you leave?” You interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“No, I'm still down here.”

“Umm, are you tired? Cause if you are we can definitely leave it for tomorrow, or better said later, but I slept through the car ride so I'm not that tired anymore, but if you think–”

“Cut the fuckin’ rambling. Go to the point, short-legs.”

You sighed, fingers sliding through your hair and pulling it back. “If you want, he can revise this now. I think it's better if we do it together.”

You heard the intake of a deep breath, a relieved one, before he said, “Yeah… Okay. I'm on my way up.” The sound of the car's door closing confirmed he was on his way.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated and then ended the call.

It took you both three hours and just one heated discussion to come to terms with each of the items. Both satisfied with the consensual agreements, you brought out your laptop and rewrote it. You printed two copies, one for each, that you both signed. That's how the contract was ready and done. Now the next and final step would be the marriage in front of a judge. That Friday. In one day.

“We need two witnesses,” you reminded him, to which he grunted.

“Right, I forgot about that.”

“Well, we already know who you are picking…”

He pulled up an eyebrow, looking in your direction, “Huh? And who am I picking, know-it-all?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “Izuku.”

He tched, not admitting it out loud, but it was obvious you were right.

You chose to let it be and not cause any banter, mostly because you definitely felt more tired than a few hours back.

“Smart-ass. Then who are you picking, mmh?”

You shrugged, “I don't know. I was thinking Mina,” his groan made you chuckle, “but I think Jirou would keep a low profile better.”

“Yeah, good thinking.” You nodded in agreement. You loved Mina, and you knew he did too, but she couldn't keep things down sometimes. And one of the items was to keep a low profile throughout the whole marriage thing. Bakugou hated the press and paparazzi, and you weren't a fan of them either. Even though you had never been the center of attention of them, you actually preferred to keep it that way. On the low and as invisible as possible.

Thursday went very quiet and chill, which was very surprising considering it was Dynamight's shift. Sometimes, villains made you think they had a particular masochistic side and loved appearing whenever Pro Hero Dynamight was around. Some of them even loved to provoke him on purpose so he would yell all those obscenities towards them. And they enjoyed it. Freaks.

But not that Thursday. It had been a very peaceful one. It even found you chatting with Bakugou through the earbuds.

“So what now, ya’ gonna fuckin’ tell me Endeavor is better than All Might?”

“Oh, shut up, you All Might-obsessed-freak! I will admit All Might was huge, but you can't deny Endeavor stood his ground and made big stuff too.”

“Like fuckin’ what?”

“The fight with the nomu–”

“HA! Please! That was child's play. All Might took down AFO.”

“Yeah. But it was Deku who won against him in the end, not him. And All Might only fought twice against AFO. Endeavor killed a powerful nomu.”

“You are so fuckin’ blind!”

“You are the blind one!”

“How could you say Endeavor is better than All Might?!”

“I did not say that!”

“Wait– then what did y–?”

“I just said, Endeavor was N° 1 too. He was a Hero too. He deserves a bit of recognition.”

You could hear Bakugou’s snort, “So you like them complicated and misunderstood…”

Bakugou’s malice in his teasing was palpable, yet you always had an answer for him.

“Well… What does that say about you?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed all your co-workers smiling at your cute banter with Bakugou. Yet you were so invested in it, you didn't notice.

Conversations that also led to getting to know each other a little bit more also happened.

“I like orange. You?”

The question took you by surprise after almost half an hour of silence from both ends. Yet, it didn't surprise you at all his preference in color. It was kind of obvious.

“Figures. It doesn't surprise me at all–”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Mine is purple.”

“Why?”

“Ummm, I don't know. I always pictured that if I had become a Hero, my costume would be purple. I decided that even before I knew if I had a Quirk or not.”

You had said it in a conversational tone, never intended to make him feel some type of way. Yet, he still asked, “And is still your favorite, even after–”

“–after I found out I am quirkless? Yes. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Mmmh,” was his simple answer.

The shift ended peacefully and on time, which both of you were grateful for, considering what the following day was.

When the shift was over, you waited a considerate couple of minutes. Minutes it would take the heroes to come back from their shift to the company. Then, you got inside the elevator but instead of going down, you went one floor up.

Your phone rang with a notification.

Bakugou K.: You asked her yet?

You rolled your eyes. So impatient.

You: No, I'm about to. I'm on your floor.

Bakugou K.: Slow ass.

You still wanted to punch him, sometimes.

You put your phone back inside your bag as you walked towards the girls’ wing of the floor, completely avoiding even looking at the boys' wing way. You knocked two times before Ochako opened the door slightly to look who it was.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Hi!”

“Hello, Y/N.”

“HI BABY!!” 

All the girls present that shift greeted you cheerfully, especially Mina. You greeted back while entering the room and closing the door behind you.

You chatted with all of them here and there as they got changed, not an ounce of shyness between all of you. You were friends with almost all of them, having already worked with the majority of the girls and hung out with them many times. You knew almost all about them. Their sleep faces, their ugly cries, their drunk personalities. All of it. And they knew you too. That's why you didn't need to be subtle at all when you said, “I actually need to speak with Jirou for a moment”. Everyone understood and took it nicely as they hurried a bit their way into their clothes and grabbed their stuff before leaving you two alone. 

All of them knew you and Jirou had a special friendship, a close one. She was the one you always went to when you really needed to confide in someone with something deep within you. The same thing was for Jirou. You were actually the first one of all to know when Denki confessed his feelings to her, and even talked her through her own ‘secret’ feelings for him.

“What's up, buddy?” She straddled one of the benches and sat, patting the place in front of her for you to follow.

You sat in front of her crossing your legs under you, your bag actually forgotten on the floor down the bench.

“I'm going to tell you something, but I need you to keep an open mind and listen to it all before you say anything.”

She jerked her head back a bit, already feeling confused, “You're scaring me already.”

“You have no idea…” You sighed and began the tell-tale.

Her eyes kept opening wider and wider with each thing you told her about what had been happening with you and Bakugou these last days.

What it felt like probably an hour later, you finished with, “So, that's why… we are going to get married tomorrow.”

Jirou fastly stood up, almost jumping a few steps back, and pointed a finger at you.

“That's it! That's why you have been so civil to each other! I knew something was up with– WAIT,” oh yeah, you thought she hadn't quite listened to what you just said. But then it came, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Y/N!! YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING.”

You shook your head, “No, I'm not.” The calmness and firm tone in which you answered made her sidetrack tons in her own reaction, as she sat back down in front of you and took your hands in hers.

“Honey, it isn't your obligation to do any of this. You know that, right?”

You smiled, the clear worry in Jirou's eyes warming your little heart. You had such a good friend.

“I do. But I want to do this. For him.” You were sincere, and you knew Jirou could see it in your eyes too.

“Even though you don’t like each other??”

“Even though we don’t like each other.”

You repeated, but your tone was decisive. Jirou looked at you silently for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

“Okay… Whatever you choose, I'm here for and with you.” Your arms immediately surrounded her neck in a hug. She returned it gladly, patting your back in reassurance. “And if he hurts you, just tell me. I'll make him pay.”

You laughed amusingly. “I know you will. But this isn't the only thing I'm here for.”

She groaned, “There's more?! I don't know how much my heart can take...”

“Well, will it survive if I ask you to be my witness tomorrow?”

Jirou's eyes filled with tears before it was her turn to surround your neck in a tight hug.

“I'll take that as a yes,” you both giggled, hugging each other tight.

Twenty minutes later you were both leaving the building of the company and you walked her towards the motorcycle parking lot where she had hers.

“I'll text you the location in the morning.”

“Alright, I can't wait for it!” She said excitedly, but then, she looked more intently at you. “I just want to say, this thing you're doing is beyond heroic. You're literally being a Hero right now.”

Her words touched something inside you that made you want to cry like a baby. Something so deep it made you feel like floating away with the harsh galloping your heart made against your chest. It didn't make sense, yet it actually did.

You gulped looking down at your feet, strongly holding back the cry that threatened to be released right in your throat.

“You need a ride back home?” She asked, completely ignoring –for your sake and out of respect– your glassy eyes.

“I'll take her home,” Bakugou's voice in the distance surprised both of you, yet you had been expecting something like this to happen. Something told you he would be waiting you after his shift.

Jirou looked at you waiting for your approval, and when you nodded, she put on her helmet and turned on her bike. You walked towards where Bakugou was standing with Jirou riding next to you, and when she was next to him, she said, “You better take care of my friend, or I'll come for your ass, don't care you're my friend too.”

Bakugou snorted, “I know you will, Ears.” He smiled, pulling down her face shield to annoy her. She punched him friendly on the shoulder before waving and driving away.

“She said yes then.”

You both began walking towards what you thought he had parked his car. “Yep. What did Izuku say?”

He rolled his eyes, “You know he said yes.”

You smiled, “I know, I was just being friendly and asked.”

“Smart-ass.”

“I am really going to punch you again, don't tempt me.”

“Yeah… If that one punch could be considered a punch, it would be ‘again’.”

“Oh, so you do want me to…”

You tried to reach his shoulder, but this time he was fast enough to dodge it expertly. “You really are slow, huh?” He mocked walking backwards and smirking.

“You want slow, asshole…”

He laughed, turning around and running away as you ran towards him trying to catch him.

He was a stupidly fast idiot.

So now, it is Friday, and you sit right next to Bakugou Katsuki. Both of you are in front of a judge who is officially marrying you. Jirou sits on your left, while Izuku sits on Bakugou's right. And you have just finished writing your signature where the bride's one goes. Bakugou has already signed his. It isn't until you put the pen down on the table that Bakugou stops bouncing his leg and breathes in deep.

You want to laugh, finding his nerves quite funny. But you get it. This means more than just marriage to him.

It's freedom.

And you can't even imagine how nerve-racking that must feel for him. After all these years that he had to follow his mother's command and will just so he could follow his own dream, now he would be free.

That in itself brings you such a happy feeling for him.

If anyone would have ever told you that you would be doing this for none other than Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki, you would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Immediately.

Fate is a strange thing.

After the turn for the witnesses to sign, the judge says boringly, “By the authority vested in me by the government of Tokyo, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

He doesn't even wait nor expect the newlyweds to kiss or exchange rings as he closes the book and gives Bakugou the previous enrollment you both signed.

And that is it. You are officially married to Bakugou Katsuki.

“Who are you with on today's shift? What time are you out?”

His questions make you come back to reality after a quiet drive toward the company in his car, which you spend looking at the golden ring that now adorns your left hand. When you look up, the shining of the golden ring on his left hand catches your attention as he circles the steering wheel so the car turns on a corner, the company appearing in your view in the distance.

“Umm, I'm with Izuku. If everything goes well, at 3 a.m.”

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Bakugou, it’s okay, I can walk home,” you insist for the nth time.

“Bullshit–”

“–Besides, you have morning patrol tomorrow,” you continue, completely ignoring his dirty mouth, “You can’t interrupt your sleep like this every time I have this shift. You need to be awake for your job.”

He grunts, muttering something that you can’t quite decipher what he said. You roll your eyes, thinking he acts like a petulant child sometimes.

A moment later, Bakugou enters the parking lot with his car, to which you look confused at him. Why is he entering the company on his day off?

He answers even before you can articulate your words, “I need to pick up some unfinished reports I have to turn in tomorrow.”

You pull up an eyebrow, untying the seatbelt and getting out of his car once he finally parks, “Wow. Dynamight is lacking on his paperwork?”

“Shut up, short-legs.”

You snort at his lighthearted insult as you walk together inside the company. But right when you both cross the big doors, Bakugou stops and looks at you. You frown confused, he then motions down with his head and you see his hand open, waiting. Oh, right.

Item n°2: Act like we are in a real relationship. The lawyers for the companies always investigate deeper into each hero, so that their status and validation of mental sanity are correlated.

You put your hand over his, both closing on each other, its warmth making those damn tingles run up your arm. But neither of you says anything as you walk through the lobby of the company holding hands.

Everyone who looks opens their eyes wide, one of the receptionists even spills her coffee drink out of shock. You hold yourself from laughing. Another of the receptionists looks you up and down, a clear disgusted expression on her face. Ops. Well, it’s not like you liked her either.

However, both you and Bakugou walk with your heads held high. You know how shocking and out of character the image of you both holding hands like a couple looks. And fast, everything happened so fast. You can already hear the gossip about whatever this is that you might have with Bakugou is way too fast. But you haven’t done everything you did for them. It is for him. As surprising as that sounds, even for you.

He walks with you towards the clock where you have to mark your entrance, never dropping your hand as you do. Then, you walk together to the elevator waiting for it to arrive. As you wait and look down at your shoes, you feel before you actually see his other hand moving, fingers brushing against your ear when he tugs a strand of your hair that had been over your face. Surprised, you look up at him but still smile in thanks.

Bakugou retracts his hand quickly and puts it inside the pocket of his jacket, looking back at the elevator. You would tease him for the little blush his cheeks are showing, but you decide it’s not the moment, considering how all eyes are on you two.

When it arrives and you get in, standing very close to each other while watching how everyone tries to peep inside to see if you’re still holding hands or if anything else happens between you two, you both jolt a bit when a wild and hurried Izuku suddenly enters the elevator, jacket half off and hair disheveled. He also looks in surprise at you two, eyes traveling down at your connected hands. A shit-eating grin appears on his face as the doors of the elevator close.

“Shut up.”

Bakugou and you speak at the same time.

Izuku snorts, hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “Wasn’t going to say anything…”

“I sense a ‘but’...” You roll your eyes, and Bakugou hums in agreement.

The greenette smiles wider, “But I understand now why everyone was looking like they saw All Might in person.”

Bakugou insults him, just because he always wants to have the final say, making Izuku laugh out loud amused. You decide to ignore both of them until the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Don’t blow up the elevator,” you warn them both after Izuku answers back at Bakugou, just to spite him. Your hand gives Bakugou one last squeeze in goodbye before walking out, “I’m with you today, Izuku.”

“Oh, cool! I’ll get connected in a bit.” You nod in his direction and look at Bakugou one last time, smiling and waving.

The doors close and you don’t get to see him smile back at you.

The shift, as always with Pro Hero Deku, is not calm or chill. It’s hectic and dangerous, and it keeps demanding all your focus and senses on alert.

“You know, sometimes I believe you have a magnet for trouble stuck up in your ass…” you hear Izuku spill the drink he must have been probably about to swallow. You chuckle devilishly. Wow, two times in a day you make someone spill their drink, that must be a record.

“Damn. Not twenty-four hours of being married to him, and you are already influenced.”

“Oh, shut it,” you both laugh amicably.

Again, the pip-ing of alert sounds in your computer. You sigh, “Deku, another threat five streets down where you’re at now.”

“On my way!”

“See? A magnet in your ass…” Izuku laughs.

You both don’t get to chat about another thing that is not your job again for the rest of the shift.

At exactly 3:10 a.m. you let out a tired sigh, stretching your arms above you and moving your body from side to side as gentle cracks sound from your backbone. After Deku pushes a villain inside a police car and looks at it drive away for a moment, his yawn that you hear through the earbuds passed on to you as you involuntarily copy the action.

“That was the last one. I’m going back,” you agree with him as you press the option on the system that notifies everyone on the shift that your hero is coming back to headquarters.

“Done.”

“Thanks, Y/N, great work today!”

“You did it all, buddy.”

“Oh, no! None of us heroes could do it without you. All of you, really.”

You frown, a bit surprised. I mean, Izuku is always polite and thanks you after every shift, but today feels different. Like he is purposely saying that, as if he knew someone important was listening to their connection.

“You are… welcome?” You actually don’t know what to say. He simply chuckles.

By orders from your area, you can't leave until Deku’s entered the company back again, so you use that time to finish gathering your things and closing the system.

“I'm back. Wait for me, Y/N. I'll take you home,” not longer than five minutes later Izuku says through the earbuds.

“Oh. You don't have–”

“Kacchan asked me to.”

His words shut you up. But he doesn't wait for your answer as he finally disconnects the communication. 

And you're left there, frozen for a moment, assimilating his words. Bakugou asked Izuku to take you home. He asked his best friend to take care of you, even when he knew Izuku would do it or offer on his own. Izuku always rode you home when you had night shifts together. Bakugou surely knows that. Then, why even mention it to his friend? Why personally ask Izuku to help you? Because… Bakugou didn't enter the company only for his unfinished paperwork. He did it to talk to Izuku. Was this… Bakugou taking care of you because you were married? Or because he wanted to?

[clairewritesfanfics]

Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader Part 4

Synopsis: A depressed, transmigrated fan dedicates their life worshipping their favorite character. (Because not everyone can be a badass like MC.)

A/N: Another update, because apparently, my brain will do anything except study anatomy. Part 3: here

The science of world-hopping is far from your expertise, but even with your high school-level grasp on physics, you understood the sheer miracle of getting transported into a dimension where the environment is not hostile and shares similarities with Earth’s atmosphere. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that there is no verbal language barrier between you and Sylus. 

That’s why you are currently sitting on a gold and velvet chair while he lies on his side, cheek on his knuckles, and listens to you read your worn-out copy of The Little Prince,[1] the only reading material in your bag that isn’t related to your job.

When he first saw the cover, he was unimpressed, calling the titular prince “ugly.” You didn’t blame him. When you first laid eyes on it, you also didn’t like the artstyle, but you were young and prioritized realism and beauty. When you grew older, you appreciated the unique and cute character designs. 

“She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her . . . I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little strategems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her . . .”

You are about to start another chapter when you catch Sylus with his eyes closed. Chuckling, you put a detached can tab between the pages. Maybe this novella is too boring for the great fiend. You move to stand, but he pinches the material of your shirt. “What’re you doing? Why did you stop?”

“I was going to let you sleep.”

“‘m not sleeping, I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I want to know what happens between him and the flower.”

“... fine. But if I catch you dozing off I’ll stop and you’re going to have to learn to read these words yourself.” You love this book but it is too long to be recited in one go. 

As you have predicted, by the time you reach the chapter about the Businessman, a lonely and pathetic man who counts the stars and only sees them as “little glittering objects” to be possessed, your throat has become too raw and you couldn’t continue. 

Fortunately, your spoiled dragon is too busy sleeping to protest. You bookmark the page and quietly set it down. “Sweet dreams.”

You take this time to find the exit, not to escape, just to know. You eventually find it. The cave opens to a cliffside overlooking a city boasting a castle that resembles a gothic Neuschwanstein Castle.

You breathe in the fresh air. Crisp and cool and not a trace of smog. 

Left alone in silence, all the questions that you forced into a vault have pushed their way to the front and center of your mind. 

Why were you brought here? What forces were behind this? Was it on purpose or an accident? Was this world  truly real? Did you get run over by a truck, end up in a coma and now stuck in this dream? Maybe the wormhole was a convoluted way for your brain to rationalize this.

You stretch your hand toward the sky as if trying to touch the clouds. If this was a dream, then…

You close your hand. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

A strong gust of wind howls at you. You grab onto the wall of the cave, almost falling over to certain death.

You raise your brows. The skies remain clear, but for a moment, it seemed like a storm was brewing. 

Shaking your head, you step back inside and explore more of the cave.

That evening, Sylus awoke to see you standing over him, watching him. He had to shut his eyes again. He would sooner stick needles into his tongue than admit that you scared him for a moment. 

“Did I scare you?” You tease him.

“...”

It is unnerving to have someone read him so easily.

Loathing, revulsion, disgust–he is all too used to these looks from humans. As a child, he would have done anything to have something different, something softer. He even tried to cut off his horns and tail, but nothing changed. When he grew up, he discarded such desires. A monster could never receive anything but the darkest tar of human emotion. 

“Hey, can I ask a question about dragons?”

“If you’re interested in making a deal with me, don’t bother. Your soul is too…” Your greed is nothing he has ever encountered before. It is there, he can sense its weight in you, but it resembles a tamed beast. No, rather than tamed, your greed is like a wild animal that had lost hope of ever escaping its chains. As if you’ve given up hope for anything more. “You have nothing to offer me.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to make a deal.” 

He snickers. Of course. “Fine. Tell me your question.”

“Do dragons have two penises?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...?”

“Repeat the question for me.”

“Do dragons have two–”

“–so I wasn’t hallucinating.” He rubs his temples. “You… I have no words.”

“Is that a no?”

“Do try not to sound so disappointed. Also, I advise that you not ask this type of question to anyone, regardless of species.”

“But I’m only interested in what you have to say.” 

He glances at you. There is not a hint of shame or deceit on your face. Ever since you arrived here, you have never looked at him the way others have. You always meet his gaze head on, steady, unafraid but never arrogant or angry. You told him that he reminded you of the sunset. If that were so, then you are a clear sky. 

He could never stand mornings. The light makes him weak and irritates his eyes. But if he were an ordinary man, a human, would the sun that used to burn him be kind and gentle like what he was feeling right now?

You did say that you belonged to him now, so it shouldn’t matter if he gets greedy.

“Sylus?” 

He stops his hand mid-air before it could reach you. “Your voice is hoarse.” 

“Gee, I wonder why.” 

He gets up from the bed, stretching his wings. “Don’t pout. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Will you?”

He smiles. “A dragon never goes back on his word.” 

He leads you to the cave’s entrance and gestures towards the black castle below. “At the foot of this mountain is Tarus City. It’s considered the lowliest of all the cities here. But its markets have a lot of interesting things. Perhaps you will even find an object that can meet your impossible standards.”

He offers you his hand and you hold it without hesitation. He stares at your fingers, small and fragile next to his claws. This is not the hand of a fighter. If he applies just a little bit more pressure, the bones would break like eggshells. He could have never imagined something so delicate would willingly approach him.

“I’m assuming that your kind cannot fly,” he says.

“You would be correct,” you reply, already knowing what he is planning as he bends over and scoops you into his arms. 

“Better hold on tight then.”

His bat-like wings spread to their full length and push the two of you upward. 

This scene feels exactly like a CG scene from an otome game, or even a shoujo manga, where the darling female lead wraps her arms around the male lead. But you keep your hands to yourself as Sylus soars across the moonlit night. 

“You’re stiff. Got nothing smart to say?” He asks.

That steady gaze of yours remains on him. “I’m admiring the view.”

“I caught you doing the same thing while I slept. Will you get tired of it?”

“I don’t think that’s physically possible.”

“Normally, people would be admiring the scenery below. It’s not everyday a human can live like a bird.”

“I don’t need it.” This world is lovely, without a doubt, but whatever is below you is nothing compared to Sylus’s face which could be part of the Seven Wonders. Besides, you want to ingrain every one of his pores into your memory. 

“We’re here.” He slows down and drops a few meters away from the city entrance.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment as he sets you on the ground. 

“Did you enjoy being held by me that much?”

“Why ask when you already know the answer.” You then let out an exaggerated, playful sigh.

“Now, now. There are plenty of chances to hold each other in the future.” 

“Sure, sure.” You shrug and then realize something. “Oh, wait–my clothes…”

“Don’t fret, you may end up getting some strange looks but ultimately, the citizens here have their own problems to worry about. They can’t afford to be nosy about a harmless thing like you.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go then.” 

The city was designed after the word “gloom,” with a silent dread perpetually hanging over every person you pass. This place is like Gotham in medieval times. 

“Your eyes are sparkling,” Sylus notes, amused at how your head swings back and forth with childlike vigor.

A normal NPC would be affected by this darkness, but not you. You find yourself wishing you had a working phone so you could take pictures. A true, obnoxious tourist. 

“In my world, this type of trip wasn’t affordable to me. And even if I had the money, going on alone would’ve made me too stressed to enjoy myself.”

“Is that so?”

You rub your palms together as you admire the iron lamp post that lined the streets. “Yeah, and I would have never gotten an opportunity like this in the past.” You turn to him, beaming uncontrollably. “So thank you, Sylus.” 

Sylus stops walking. 

You stop too. “What is it?”

He touches his chest and opens his mouth, but no words escape. He narrows his eyes, but not at you.

“Sylus?”

He lets his arm drop to his side as he looks up at the sky. “It’s nothing.” 

You silently watch him, your own face blank, then you grin. This time, your smile is subdued. “All right.”

He holds out his hand. You put yours on top and he places a pouch of coins on it. 

“Feel free to look around. I have some business to attend to, it won’t be long and if you need me, just call my name. I’ll come to you, no matter what.”

“Okay.”

You watch him walk away, disappearing in the shadows. You let out a breath, the cold air fogging in front of you. “‘Nothing,’ huh.” You didn’t think it would happen so fast. 

Whatever.

Deciding to do as you promised, you approach some of the stalls. You haven’t eaten anything since that pack of Pocky and since you would rather not touch the meat here, you opted for the pastries. 

As you sit on a bench chewing your second pretzel, an elderly woman dressed in a black hooded robe wobbles towards you. She points an accusatory finger. “You… you are not of this world.”

Oh?

You continue to eat, ignoring her.

“You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave!” With a burst of energy, she rushes forward and clamps her hands over your shoulders, knocking the pretzel away from you.

You don’t fight back though. You keep your expression unreadable and let her ramble.

“It doesn’t want you here. You need to leave. You will doom us all…and you will die!”

“Everyone dies, though, granny. And you may end up going before me.”

She seems taken aback by your apathy. Her shock then morphs into rage. “I’m warning you! If you’re not careful, you will get killed!”

It is your turn to grab her–you hold her fingers tightly and lean forward. “Really? How does it happen? More importantly, who gets to kill me? Are their eyes as gorgeous as polished rubies? If not, then can you tell me how to get that person to kill me? I have no interest in getting murdered by anybody but him.” Your questions come after another in rapid succession.

“Answer me, granny, who kills me?” 

The old woman’s legs shook and you let go. With a sigh, you retreat. “I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am, but you should be careful when telling people about their destiny.”

“Granny!” Two little boys run towards the shaking old woman. “So you were here, mother has been looking everywhere for you.”

One of the boys bow to you. “We’re so sorry if she offended you in some way. She’s sick so please pardon her.”

You wave them off. “Apologies are not needed, but you should keep a close eye on her.”

“We will…” The boys move to help their granny walk.

“Wait.” You pick up the bag full of pastries and give it to the boy. It isn’t just the granny, all three of them are frail enough to be knocked down by a faint breeze. 

“But…”

“Just take it.”

“T-thank you!”

Picking up your other purchases, you go to find a different place to wait for Sylus. You feel bad for picking on an old lady, but you wanted to see if she were an authentic fortune teller. To be honest, the information you’ve gathered can only result in an inconclusive answer because this whole “reality” could not be trusted. Still, it is better to lean into caution. 

You hold your chin. That woman saying that you are “not of this world” is too specific, but this place co-exists with different species and acknowledges the existence of a metaphysical plane like the Abyss, so there is a chance that she saw your abnormal clothes and thought you were a non-human similar to Sylus. The statement doesn’t necessarily have to refer to a different reality.

It doesn’t want you here. 

It. 

“Killed, not die…” This is quite the pickle. “...killed…not die.”

Hm.

Hmmmmm…

You have decided. 

“This is tomorrow’s problem.” You wish your future self good luck because you don't care anymore.

Before you can stand, a shady-looking man stumbled towards you, eyes glossed over and posture uneven. A drunk. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

You grab your things. 

“Hey now, no need for that, I just want to… want to talk with you.”

He is a malnourished drunk so you could probably push him away, but it’s always better to avoid a confrontation. 

“Hey… hey! Don’t ignore me!” He lunges forward, but is blocked by a solid wall forming between the two of you. No, not a wall.

Sylus stands in front of you. “Did you need something from my companion?”

“Huh? Who the hell are you? Don’t get in the way of our fun!” He throws a punch but your dragon dissolves his fist up to his elbow.

“Um, Sylus…” You tap your savior’s shoulder. 

“Do me a favor and turn around and cover your ears, puppy. I don’t think I have the right mind to be clean about this.”

“Well, sure, but before that, I have a request. Please don’t kill him.”

He glances over to you. “You can’t be serious. If you could see and hear the… filth that he was planning to do to you…” His right eye glows dangerously. “I cannot possibly leave this garbage alone.”

“Leave? All I want is for you to keep him alive.”

Sylus pauses. “You mean–”

“–think of it as a personal request, but if you really want to kill him I won’t hold it against you.” 

You are a person from the 21st century. It would be difficult to continue knowing someone died because they were related to you in some way. You are fine with them being barely alive though. 

You then turn around and cover your ears. You have to hum and whisper-sing random songs to distract yourself. Even if you were happy to vote for torture, that doesn’t mean you could stomach the sound of a living creature screaming in agony. 

“...making my way downtown walking fast and I’m homebound–ah.” Something warm and fluffy ends up on your shoulders. 

“It’s done,” Sylus says, adjusting the cloak. “He’s still alive. The amputation was successful, all five of them.”

“Good to know–hey!” 

He uses his body to block you from taking a glimpse of the carnage. The smell of rust and urine permeates the air.

“It’s an ugly sight.”

“...All right.”

“Are you not going to fight me on this?”

“It’s sweet that you remembered that I don’t like gore. I’ll trust your judgment.” Reading and watching records of criminal cases is a different experience from a real life slaughter. 

“I thought I told you to call for me if you encountered trouble.” He secures the gold clasp of the cloak around your neck. 

“Yes, but you arrived before I got the chance to scream. I appreciate the assist.”

He shakes his head lightly and pulls the hood over your head. “Your composure is astounding.”

“I hope your business meeting or errand went well.”

He hums in response before pinning a brooch on the left breast of your new coat. 

You examine the shimmering accessory. “I’ve never seen red thorn apples before.” The primary florals are made with garnets framed by gold leaves and complemented by tiny dots of diamonds that resembled tuberose flowers.[2]

“Is it too gaudy?”

You laugh softly at his pettiness and caress the wine-red blossom. “Not at all. It’s beautiful.” You hope your customer service smile would be enough to trick him.

“Not as beautiful as my ‘polished ruby’ eyes, I hope.”

“You heard that, huh.” 

“I think the whole market heard the commotion you made.”

“It was more of a kerfuffle.” 

He quirks his brow.

“It wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to teach her about manners, but now I’m starting to feel guilty.” You then dramatically draw circles on your belly.

He grins and offers his hand. “Come. I’ll treat you to something delicious.”

“I refuse to eat Wanderer’s meat.” You put your hand in his. If he fed it to you then maybe you would consider partaking in technical cannibalism. 

He cocks his head to the side. “You are impossible to please.”

“Really? I’d say I’m quite low maintenance.” You surprise yourself every time you say such lines. It is getting ridiculously easy to spout out these half-truths.

Important author’s notes:  [1] The Little Prince is a novella by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. If you haven’t read it, I suggest giving it a try. The book explores the innocence of youth, loneliness and isolation, human relationships and the responsibilities and vulnerability that come with these relationships.  Why does Y/N carry a pocket-sized copy with them to work? Speaking from personal experience, I like to have a good, comforting book with me when I feel sad. A security blanket of sorts.

[2] Thorn apples: Datura stramonium. Other common names are devil's trumpets, moonflowers and jimsonweed. In floriography, they mean “I dreamed of thee.” In the right doses, this plant can be used in treating various ailments. However, it has hallucinogenic properties.  Tuberose: Agave amica. An expensive blossom that is used in perfume-making. These flowers can mean “dangerous pleasures.” References: Floriography - the language of Flowers. Flowers by Flourish. (2015, January 27). https://www.flowersbyflourish.com/floriography/  

Fun fact, according to a post on the LoveAndDeepspace subreddit, the flowers present in the Sylus: Abyssal Blossom card are most likely thorn apples. The original poster (OP) makes a lot of good points. You can read it here.  

@phisen @leryg0 @capribun @sinnamon-bunn @wegottastayfocus @erisnxxi @syyyy4ever @limerenceisserenity

Thank you to everyone taking the time to comment. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Part 5: here Masterlist: here

[foxsoulcourt]

Re-reading this fic, occasionally out loud w/ @dont-rain-on-my-solangelo which has been a source of MUCH enjoyment for us both. ThOrOUghLy enjoying diving into this story again. GAHHHH, lo o o o ve Kevin + Neil + Jean's friendship. And the OG Foxes in this universe. Playing the songs Dear Nicky shares w/Neil in Ch. 10 which makes it even.more.fun. Great song choices @fuzzballsheltiepants! 💜

It's finally complete!

Chapters: 17/17 Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard Characters: Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day, Matt Boyd, Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Jean Moreau, Jeremy Knox, Laila Dermott Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Paramedics, Paramedic Neil Josten, Advice Column, Strangers to Lovers, Found Family, Mild Angst, Mild Gore, found cat, Depression, humor too, let's be real, It's one of my fics, there's a little bit of everything Summary:

Paramedic Neil Josten has been lost since his mother died, moving from town to town, searching for something. He's not sure what. Himself, whatever that means. Or a life that won't keep shrinking in on itself. But after Kevin, his best friend from paramedic school, called and ordered him to move to South Carolina, Neil ends up with a new partner, a group of friends he can't avoid, and the local advice column he can't stop reading. He finds himself interested in the writer behind the column...

But then he meets Andrew who is weirdly good at everything, and maybe life is not so small after all.

Read from the beginning here! Or catch the epilogue here!

[aventurineswife]

I ssaw that ur requests are open fr a bit and that u opened zzz requests so imma shoot my shot (hehe)

Harumasa, Seth and maybe Hugo (I don't know much about him but I'm biased cuz he's voiced by Jun fukuyama so sue me XD) or wise (tho I'm not sure about wise since he doesn't have fangs) giving playful love bites whenever they're happy.

Them with their s/o having a good time just staying indoors either playing video games, cuddling, or doing anything fun (maybe an arcade date where they play games together like the mini games in zzz, or an at home candle lit dinner idk XP) and when they feel extremely happy nuzzling up to them, they just give a bite~

And if they hurt, they will do that thing that cats do, where they lick or kiss the area they hurt... Only to chomp elsewhere X3c

~🍮

Affection, but with Teeth

Tags: Harumasa x Reader, Seth x Reader, Hugo x Reader, Fluff, Playful Biting, Domestic Romance, Teasing & Banter, Light Angst (implied backstories), Affectionate Men, Cat-Like Behavior, Established Relationship, Humor.

Warnings: Mild biting (playful, not harmful), Light suggestive teasing (mostly Hugo), Mentions of food/eating (if relevant for food-sensitive readers), Minor swearing (?), Might be ooc.

A/N: Thank you for making another ZZZ request! 🤭🙏 I tried my best... though I probably wrote them very ooc. I've seen that seth has the same va as Alhaitham and hugo's kr va is Dan heng I think, I'm not sure... 🧍‍♀️

Harumasa wasn’t the type to go out of his way for extravagant dates. He preferred efficiency, and to him, the best kind of date was one that required minimal effort but maximum enjoyment. So when you suggested a cozy day indoors, playing games and just lounging around, he had no objections.

You sat on the couch, controller in hand, as the two of you played through one of the many arcade-style games from Random Play. Harumasa, half-laying across your lap with his own controller lazily balanced on his stomach, let out a small yawn. "If I win this round, you have to go make coffee for me," he murmured, eyes half-lidded yet still calculating his next move.

"Oh, is that so?" You smirked. "And if I win?"

"You get bragging rights."

"That’s a terrible deal."

Before you could argue further, he launched a sneak attack in the game, completely wiping your character out. Harumasa gave a satisfied hum, stretching lazily as he turned to look at you with a smug grin. "Looks like you’re making coffee—"

Chomp.

You yelped when you felt sharp teeth gently press against your shoulder. He didn’t bite too hard, just enough to make you flinch, and before you could react, he lazily licked the same spot in a mock attempt to soothe it.

"You—!"

But just as you were about to scold him, he struck again—this time on your wrist, grinning against your skin. "Mmm. You taste like victory."

"You menace."

"Hm? I’m just expressing my joy in the most efficient way." His voice was laced with amusement, and he gave one last, playful nibble before settling back into your lap like nothing happened. "Now, about that coffee…"

Going to the arcade with Seth was always a fun experience—he was passionate, competitive, and absolutely terrible at keeping a low profile. He wasn’t the best at stealth games, but give him a fighting or racing game, and he would pour his entire soul into it.

"Alright, final round!" Seth declared, gripping the arcade controls with unshakable determination. "If I win, I get the last slice of pizza when we get home!"

"Deal," you agreed, smirking.

The match was intense, pixelated characters clashing in a battle of reflexes and skill. You held your own, but Seth had sheer enthusiasm on his side, and in a dramatic final move, he won.

"YES!" He practically jumped in place, tail flicking behind him in excitement. "Did you see that?! I actually pulled it off!"

You chuckled, watching him vibrate with happiness—then yelped as he suddenly leaned in and gave a quick, playful chomp to your shoulder.

"Seth!"

He blinked at you, ears twitching, before quickly pressing a kiss to the same spot. "Sorry! I didn’t mean to bite that hard!"

"...So you admit that was on purpose?"

"Uhhh," he hesitated, then suddenly chomp—this time on your wrist.

"Seth!"

He laughed, pulling back slightly but keeping his hands on yours. "I dunno, I just got so happy! You don’t get mad when cats do it!"

"Yeah, but you’re not a cat, Seth."

"Debatable," he grinned.

You sighed, rubbing your wrist with mock exasperation before ruffling his hair. He purred—actually purred—and leaned into your touch. "Fine, you win. Enjoy your last slice of pizza."

"Hell yeah!"

(But the moment he looked away, you took a sneaky bite of his pizza anyway. He totally deserved it.)

Spending a quiet evening with Hugo was always a refined yet subtly mischievous experience. He had a way of making even the simplest moments feel elegant, yet you knew better than to let your guard down entirely.

Tonight, he had surprised you with a beautifully set dinner—candlelight flickering against fine wine glasses, soft classical music playing in the background. It was almost too perfect, and you gave him a knowing look. "Are you trying to impress me?"

"Would it be so wrong if I was?" Hugo smirked, sipping his wine with effortless grace. "Besides, I rather enjoy treating you to things like this."

Dinner went smoothly, filled with pleasant conversation and the occasional flirtation. But it was when you made an offhand comment about how charming he looked under candlelight that he tilted his head with a playful gleam in his sharp eyes.

"Oh? Flattery, my dear?"

"It’s not flattery if it’s true," you teased.

He chuckled, leaning closer across the table. "Then allow me to show my appreciation."

Before you could react, he gently took your wrist, bringing it to his lips. And then—

Chomp.

It wasn’t painful, just a teasing press of his fangs against your skin, but the suddenness of it made you yelp. "Hugo!"

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the spot he bit, only to immediately sink his teeth into another spot higher up your arm.

You shot him a glare. "You’re doing that on purpose."

"Of course I am," he admitted shamelessly, smirking. "It’s rather endearing how you react."

"You’re lucky you’re charming."

"That is the general consensus," he mused. "Now, would you like dessert? I promise not to bite."

"Liar."

He simply chuckled, reaching for your hand once more.

[rose24207]

can you do a one where she pranks lando like ignoring him and he kinda gets mad?

Me? Dramatic?!

Summary: You prank Lando by ignoring him to see how long it takes for him to get upset. Spoiler: it doesn’t take long

Lando x Reader

Genre: fluff, humor, a little angst

TW: pranking?

A/N: cute idea! Thanks for the request!!

Navigation

It had started as a joke, a simple prank.

You knew Lando well enough to know how much he hated being ignored—how he craved attention, especially from you. It was a harmless game at first, letting him call and text you without responding, leaving him on read while you enjoyed a quiet afternoon.

But now… as you sat there, watching him pace in your living room, the tension was growing.

You weren’t sure how far to push this.

Lando had called you multiple times, his voice getting more frustrated with each missed ring. At first, it was cute—the little text that popped up saying “Why are you ignoring me???” followed by “You okay?” and then “I’m really starting to worry.”

Then came the voice notes, growing more dramatic: “I’m not joking anymore. Call me back, please!”

You smirked, leaning back on the couch as you scrolled through your phone, completely unfazed by his increasing attempts at communication.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a text that simply read: “Answer me, please. It’s not funny anymore.”

You bit your lip, trying not to burst out laughing.

You knew he was getting annoyed. You could hear it in his voice when he called you last.

But you didn’t expect to see him storming into the living room just moments later, his face red, his hands running through his hair as he stood in front of you.

“What the hell?” Lando huffed, his arms crossed over his chest. “Why are you doing this?”

You barely looked up from your phone, keeping up the act. “Doing what?” you asked innocently.

His eyes narrowed, and you could see his jaw tighten with frustration. “You know exactly what,” he snapped. “Ignoring me. Not answering my calls or texts.”

“Lando,” you said, setting your phone down slowly. “You’re being dramatic.”

He stepped closer to you, his voice rising slightly. “Me? Dramatic!?” His eyes were wide now, his patience wearing thin. “I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose! Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you answered too quickly, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to form on your lips. “Why would I be mad at you?”

He huffed again, his shoulders tense, looking like he was on the verge of giving up. “I don’t know, maybe because you’re giving me the silent treatment for no reason?”

The guilt started creeping in, but you were still holding your ground. “You’ve been fine. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy? Busy doing what? You’ve been on your phone the whole time, ignoring me.” His voice cracked slightly, and you could see a flicker of hurt behind his usual teasing.

At that, you felt your resolve crack a little. You hadn’t expected him to get this upset, though part of you was secretly enjoying the way he was all worked up over it.

Lando took a deep breath, leaning down to look you in the eyes, trying to soften his expression. “Look, I get it. You’re playing some game or something, but you don’t have to do this. It’s really not funny anymore.”

You felt your heart squeeze, a mix of guilt and affection for him. You could see the stress in his eyes now, the realization that you were genuinely causing him some discomfort.

You let out a small sigh, dropping your phone on the coffee table. “Okay, okay,” you relented, a small smile creeping onto your face. “You win.”

Lando looked at you, confused. “What do you mean?”

You finally met his gaze, that playful smirk returning to your lips. “I was just messing with you,” you admitted. “It’s a prank. I was ignoring you on purpose to see how long it would take for you to get mad.”

Lando blinked, his expression shifting between disbelief and annoyance. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” you said, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “You’re so easy to wind up.”

He stared at you for a moment, his face a mix of irritation and relief. Then, with a sigh, he flopped down onto the couch next to you, running a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” you said, leaning against him.

Lando let out a dramatic groan, flopping back dramatically. “I can’t believe you’ve been ignoring me for hours. I thought something happened.”

You laughed softly, brushing your hand over his arm. “It’s all part of the joke.”

Lando shook his head, still clearly annoyed, but there was no hiding the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m never letting you do this again. You’re horrible.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.” You grinned, nudging him playfully.

“You made me think you didn’t want to talk to me,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You wanted to talk to me that badly?”

Lando gave you a pointed look, but before he could respond, you leaned over and kissed him, the tension finally breaking. “I’m sorry, I won’t ignore you again.”

“You better not,” he murmured, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

“Next time, though, I’ll just prank you with a fake spider,” you said, smiling against his lips.

Lando shuddered at the thought, pulling away slightly. “If you do that, I’m leaving.”

You laughed softly, your heart racing as he pulled you back into his embrace.

And for the first time in hours, Lando was finally at peace, his anger dissipating the moment you kissed him.

But next time… he was definitely going to keep an eye on you.

Just in case.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 149

This prompt has been filled by me! Anyone can write more interpretations and I'd love to see them, but if you're a reader, here's mine! https://archiveofourown.org/works/63921304

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

An alternate universe where everything is basically the same, except for that Witchers aren't taught anything about humans, and never truly interact with any. Witchers don't go into towns for contracts. Monster contracts are posted on boards on the outer border of towns. People must check back every day to see if the contract has a knife in it. If it does, it means the witcher is either out fulfilling it, or already has. The witcher will then walk out of the forest with proof of it's kill, you gift them clothing, food, weaponry, sometimes even a steed, and back away slowly. Geralt is a witcher. And the most monstrous of them, if you were to ask him. He has sickly skin, long unnaturally white hair, and those slitted yellow eyes of his. It doesn't matter. Roach doesn't care how he looks, and that's good enough for him. He's hoping this contract will give him some new clothes. He'd even take sewing supplies. His best shirt has a big gash in the sleeve. Which wouldn't normally bother him, he could deal with it, but Roach keeps trying to nibble on it. It's a contract for a bruxa. One that's apparently been causing a lot of issues for some "count." Disrupting parties and attempting to lure people away for the slaughter. Geralt has killed her, and has her head as proof. When he approaches the board with his proof, he sees two humans waiting for him. One of them sneers in disgust, and one of them gasps in horror, tearing up. Geralt presents the head, and then holds his hand out for his reward. The older human shoves the scared one at Geralt. The scared one stumbles as he's shoved, and looks up at Geralt with big, wet blue eyes. Geralt tilts his head and turns back to the older one. That one must be the Count. "Your reward, Witcher." "F- Father!" "Silence, Julian. I don't care what you do to him." The Count turns and leaves. 'Julian' looks at Geralt with fear. Geralt is used to that. Witchers are scary. "I- I thought Witchers only hunted monsters, why did you kill Emmaline?" "...This?" Geralt asks, holding up the head, and the human gags, but nods. "It was a monster. She was a Bruxa. A type of vampire." Julian stares blankly for a moment, before he erupts into laughter. Geralt doesn't usually see or hear laughter very often. He likes when this 'Julian' laughs! Oh, but the laughing turns to sobbing. "I should've known! Of course she didn't like my bloody songs! She liked my bloody blood!" The Julian cries, and Geralt feels awkward. He doesn't quite know how to make a human happy. This would be easier if Geralt were at his camp. He doesn't like being so close to a town. He needs to be in the woods. He scoops up his (apparently) Julian, and throws him over his shoulder and walks him back to camp. Julian is now sitting by Geralt's campfire, still crying, but now it's silent. Geralt sits down beside him. Humans comfort with touch, he thinks. He doesn't truly know. He awkwardly puts his arms around Julian, and it doesn't seem to working.... Aha! Because the tears are still coming! Geralt can fix that! Geralt leans in and licks the salty water away. Julian starts laughing again, and finally relaxes. Geralt did it! He's such a good humankeeper! Having a human around is difficult, but Geralt is quite happy with this new arrangement! Geralt smiles a lot more than he used to. His human is adorable, and he's funny! And Geralt is learning so much more about humans! But sometimes that's horrifying. Geralt learned humans need to eat every day, so Geralt has begun hunting more. Julian didn't tell him this fact, Geralt had to learn it by himself when Julian fainted one day. Geralt also learned that humans are delicate things. Julian tripped over a root in the ground and ended up bleeding! BLEEDING! Geralt nearly lost it, that day. He licked his scratch clean, and bandaged his human, and kept a grip on his arm the rest of the day to balance him. They're sensitive, too.

The night had a light breeze, or so Geralt thought. Julian was shaking, teeth chattering, breaths visible. Hm. Perhaps it was colder than Geralt thought. He drags the human over, making Julian let out an odd "whoop!" sound, and wraps his arms around him. Julian scoots closer before settling, wrapping around geralt.

Humans are also curious. Too curious. Julian followed him on a hunt once and almost got hurt. Geralt shouted at him, immediately felt horrible, and apologized, but made sure to let Julian know that Julian was the one who did something stupid. Geralt thinks about getting a leash to keep his human safe at camp, but he doesn't think Julian would go for it.

His human seems happy! Until he doesn't. All of a sudden he's walking slower, and constantly frowning, and he sighs every few minutes! It's driving Geralt crazy not knowing how to fix it! He's tried all the things that have worked before! He licked him, he hugged him, he let him pet Roach, he made him a bigger portion of food, but nothing is working!

"What troubles you?" "…Hm? Oh, sorry. It's just… I wanted to be a bard. Before." "Before?" "…My father.. Sold me to you, Geralt."

Oh yeah.

"…What's a bard?" "G- Geralt, you don't know what a bard is?" "No." "Why, it's simply the best career out there! At least for me. Bards make music. They travel the continent singing their sweet melodies and sharing their feelings and hope to every townsperson out there. Farmers and nobles alike love a good bard."

Julian twitters on some more about these 'bard' titles.

"How do you become a bard?" "Well, you need an instrument. I had a lute, once. And you write songs in a notebook or journal. And all you have to do is sing them."

Thus Geralt makes a plan. Geralt goes searching for these items, loots here and there, and he believes he has a perfectly functional 'lute' and a journal. Geralt has a journal. It's too full of monsters to be given to his human, though. His human deserved one just for his songs.

When Geralt gave these items to his human, his human started sobbing. Shit! But Julian insists it's "happy" sobbing??? That's a thing? Humans will also cry when happy? Geralt will take note of this.

Geralt's Julian is MUCH happier now! And he makes such nice noises! He sings for Geralt all the time now. He strums his lute, and sings, and when he's not doing that, he's humming, and when he's not doing that, he's excitedly chatting away to Geralt, and it all makes him so happy. His human is happy! He likes his little human friend. And Geralt now knows for sure his human friend likes him back.

"Though it hurt so much at the time, I'm so very glad my father gave me to you. I've truly never been happier."

It appears Julian's last humankeepers were bad at their job, despite being humans themselves. Oh well. Doesn't matter now. Geralt would never rehome him.

Thus comes Geralt's problem. Winter is coming. He needs to head to the keep. He can keep his human alive up the path, Geralt's sure of it. He's skilled in humankeeping by now. But the actual staying part is what scares him. What if when Julian meets the other witchers, he finds one that can keep him even happier than Geralt? What if Geralt loses his Julian!? It's just unthinkable!

[mooneggtarts]

Something something Radioapple Reincarnation AU... I told you I love reincarnation tropes right?... did I..???? Anyways expect more cause I have a lot of ideas for this 💥💥

Here some closeup of the comics

[fmnxpl]

Forget me not ♡

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x reader

Warning: Spoilers for the movie!

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: fluff, humor, and a bit of angst

Summary: Aftermath of Joaquin‘s near death experience and how you and him deal with it together.

You love Joaquin, truly you do.

From his dark brown hair down to every minor detail on him, like the small freckles on his nose that only appear when summer begins, or the moles littered around his back, which you always kissed and counted when he was feeling down or when he was asleep.

But his goddamn loud-ass snores really do it for you.

It is 2:44 a.m. on a Monday when you are very rudely pulled from a sweet dream by a loud noise.

At first, you had assumed that maybe Joaquin was having another nightmare. Those have gotten more frequent ever since his near-death experience on his mission. They always leave him shaking and thrashing around beneath the sheets, and you would always wake up to comfort and kiss him until he calmed down. Sometimes he tells you what his nightmare was about; other times, he would simply look at you with those glossy eyes that tell you he is about to cry, and your heart simply breaks. You would hold him the entire night until the early morning hours when the sun begins to rise.

As you turned onto your back to look at him, he was still peacefully asleep. One of his legs was hoisted up onto your stomach, and his right hand lay across your chest.

You mumble a few curses beneath your breath before turning your head to the side to see if you could possibly move him without waking him up so you could go pee. Turning, you were met with Joaquin's face, which was only a mere few inches away from you, with his mouth slightly ajar, eyebrows furrowed, eyes tightly closed, and snores that could whip the Titanic back to the harbor.

You remember how Joaquin’s eyes used to shine. They were so bright, so full of love, that you could never hold eye contact with him without feeling completely overwhelmed. But these days, after the mission, his eyes have changed. There's a subtle tinge of anxiety behind them. You know him better than anyone. You can see that beneath the facade of happiness—of becoming the Falcon, of finally being able to help people—there’s a growing sense of doom and fear, all because of that mission.

He’s terrified of his future, both for himself and for the one with you.

You sigh as you cradle his face and rub your fingers up and down his cheek, your finger lingering on the apple of his cheek where a new scar has formed.

Ever since that mission, scars have been scattered all over his body, and every time you found one, no matter the size or length, you would place soft kisses all over it as if that would magically take all the pain away that he had endured to even have those scars.

When he returned home after his hospital stay, you did not have the heart to stay mad at him for how he behaved. Nonetheless, you did take your sweet time yelling at him after you found out that he had initially ignored Sam's order to stand down and went headfirst into a damn missile. It didn't do much other than him kissing you softly and telling you that he would be more careful and listen to Sam more. You still weren't entirely sure if he would, but you liked to believe so.

You push his hand away from your chest carefully and onto his own chest before moving to sit on the side of the bed. A sharp exhale leaves your nose before you pull yourself up and walk toward the bathroom, where you quickly pee and wash your hands. Towel in hand, you turn to the door to return to your bed before you get startled by a hunched-over shadow at the door.

"Jesus, fuck, Joaquin," you mutter, still a bit woozy from having just woken up.

"Where ya going?" It came out slurred, but you still understood him.

You place your dry hands onto his chest, where he holds onto them just beneath where his heart lies under his ribcage, as his thumbs rub over the back of your hand and his lips press a quick kiss to your cheek. "Just needed to pee, baby. Let's go back to bed."

You try to pull him back to your bedroom, but he won't move from his place at the door. Instead, he wraps his arms around your neck and pushes you into him. His breath was so soft and quiet, you started to think he had fallen asleep holding onto you.

"Baby..." You press a soft kiss below his ear before you pull away a little to look up at him. You place your hands around the back of his neck, where you tangle your fingers with the tuft of dark hair that lies there. His hands move to lay on your hip, running over your sides. He lets out a soft hum as he smiles down at you with lazy eyes.

"You are about to fall asleep, baby. Let's go to bed." You end your sentence with a kiss on the tip of his nose before you push him into the bedroom.

You both settle back beneath the sheets as you cradle his head beneath your chin and your legs around his hips, with his hand holding your arm.

After what felt like an eternity, which in reality had been about ten minutes, you looked down at Joaquin to check if he had fallen asleep. His eyes were laser-focused on your collarbone, where he left soft kisses behind after he realized you were awake.

"You okay?" You look down at him.

"I'm fine, just got startled when I couldn't feel you anymore. Sorry." His "sorry" came out so quietly that if he wasn't directly beneath you, you would have never heard him.

Your hand runs through his hair as a soft smile grows on your face. You lean down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead before pressing your own forehead against his.

"You don't need to worry about something like that. You know that I would never leave you alone."

"You promise?" His eyes close.

"Of course I do."

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the three most popular genres/tags were Hurt/Comfort, Romance, and Canon Divergence, while the three least popular were Genderswap, High School AU, and Character Death.

To see more analysis, including comparisons to real fic data and previous surveys, please view the full results on AO3.

[httpknjoon]

the princess and the rockstar | jjk

[PROLOGUE]

plot | Once upon a time, there was a crowd-favorite crown princess who found herself romantically involved with a famous rockstar. See how they will try to navigate the world and maybe live happily ever after.

genres | angst, fluff, modern royalty!au, celebrity!au, established relationship!au

pairing | rockstar!jungkook x princess!reader

note | made a lot of changes... this one's only a prologue! i'll be posting the first chapter in a couple of days :)

main masterlist | series masterlist | spotify playlist

[EXCLUSIVE] Royalty, Romance, Rumors: Zafiro's Queen YN Tell-All Interview With Kaira Bahl

For the first time ever, Queen YN of Zafiro sits down for an afternoon tea with The Solar’s very own Kaira Bahl to share about her journey to being the youngest ever to head a monarchy, along with telling personal stories and addressing rumors from the past. From being the world’s loved crown princess to Zafiro’s first female and youngest leader, Her Majesty opens up about what it truly means to be a queen.

As I arrive in front of the Sapphire Palace, it is surprising to see the Queen YN herself waiting by the big sapphire blue doors of the palace. Sticking to her known fashion sense, Her Majesty stunned in a customized floral Dior knee-length belted dress and white gloves. Her most-prized silver crown was absent from her head.

When I asked about it, she laughed, “It’s too heavy. I don’t wear it around at home.”

Home. Home for Queen YN is the Sapphire Palace, which is known to have 542 rooms, which include rooms for royal guests, royal staff, state meetings, offices, and bathrooms.  It also has recreational areas that Queen YN is planning to open to the public as she shared on her 20XX State of the Nation Address, one of the firsts Her Majesty has done since she was crowned five years ago.

The Queen led me to her favorite part of her home: The Garden. She proudly showed off different plants from places all over the world. She shared how each is a gift from friends, world leaders, and local Zafirons who are all aware of her passion for nature. I curiously asked what is her favorite among the countless plants. She then asked one of her staff to help her carry a vase full of reddish-orange flowers.

“These are tiger-lilies! I loved it for many reasons, but I will tell you one… I love it mainly because of the thousands of symbolisms about it,” she winked, still wearing the youthful smile she had years ago.

We had our interview in her garden. A spot was already set up for us under her acacia tree, a simple blue couch and center table with cups of tea and a variety of biscuits on it. Just like what we agreed on in the first place, this interview will only be documented through an old-school recorder and a notepad. She firmly asked for camera restrictions. The Queen also asked for my solo appearance, no teams allowed, as she will be alone during the whole interview. Just the two of us. Finally, Her Majesty asked to read the whole article first before I publish it online.

So, reader, if you are reading this article, please know that this is approved by Her Majesty herself. Anything that you might find offensive or displeasing to The Queen is already worthless for a battle cry. Again, Queen YN herself has reviewed everything in here.

With that, shall we start?

For every minute that passed, Jungkook's phone has been receiving messages from anyone who knows him. It can be from his phone's messaging app, Instagram's direct message, Facebook Messenger, or even email. He gets mentioned with every post of excerpts from your unexpected interview that was just posted tonight at midnight.

Now, it's almost three in the morning.

Jungkook has barely slept for the last couple of hours. His phone is somewhere in his bedroom, set on Do Not Disturb mode just so no one can reach him in this confusing time. Instead, he has his laptop on his dining table, staring right back at him while he holds a glass of ice-cold whisky in his left hand. The interview article is said to be a long read, requiring almost an hour to read the whole thing. But he found himself stuck in a single part of the article for three hours now.

Suddenly, looking at the tiger lily inked on his arm suffocates him. He looked away as he felt tears burning the corners of his eyes. He gulped away whatever was blocking his throat. He wanted to close his eyes, but every time he did, all he could see was you tracing the said tattoo with your index finger, then looking up at him with a small smile.

A smile that he had last seen that day. He tried looking for it in your recent photos, but he could not find it anywhere.

Taking the glass to his lips, Jungkook tries to swallow down the ache he has been feeling, hoping that it will shake off the memories out of his head and the numbness in his body. But it didn't work. Nothing worked.

AN EXCERPT FROM THE INTERVIEW:

"I pledged to be protective of everyone, whether they are from my nation or not. And if things happened between me and another person, I like to make sure that the encounters or the relationship will just remain between us."

note | hello! i'm reconstructing this series and it has been sooo long since I posted anything about this. so please let me know if you still want to be on the series taglist. i will be making a new one, so please reply below if you still want to join it. thank you! <3

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROCKSTAR TAGLIST

@rbrm094 @rjsmochii @sugaslittlekookies @saintsugar @thvlover7 @alpha-mommy69 @natalia-rmnva @coralmusicblaze @stupendouscookiehumanmug @namgoogieee @yoonjinhusbands @borahaeb1ch @lilliankoo @gxtwllsn @taechvita @snkyuv @canyon-lwt @hiii-priestess @jksgirlhere @razzletaffy @bbtsficrecs @jnk-pop @jjeonjjk7 @tokkiggukie @cuntessaiii @annoyingcolorfox @kooliv @jksgirlhere @razzletaffy @oopscoop @hani0407 @taebae19 @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @ficluvr613 @kpopssuregi @prettypink11 @diamondjeon @raemanova @jalexad @lveegsoi @qualityjoonie @recklesselfless @minewlove @yooforeaa @joonwater

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones @senaqsstuff

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch8. two steps back

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 department, just got broken up with your boyfriend of 7 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 with 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 slight age gap bc gojo in this fic is 34 n reader is 29

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

ᰔ chapter. 8/x

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooo my ihm loves! i missed you all very much. i don't have much to say here lolol but i'll see you at the end!!! hope you enjoy the first gojo pov chapter!!

nav. masterlist

“Now see this? The little bunny ears?” Gojo says from where he’s crouched down towards the freshly-sprinkle-wet pavement of the sidewalk, his fingers pinching sparkly pink shoelace together, his view of the children’s size seven shoe obscured by his tie dangling from his neck. He would flip it over his shoulder and out of the way, but he had not one second to spare when it comes to keeping the attention of a five-year-old. 

“Mhm…” Juno mumbles, nodding her head slowly as she tucks her chin to look down at the tutorial.

“Okay,” Gojo says, “just like I taught you last time, you take the bunny ears…and then cross them over like this…” He does it slowly enough to where she can follow along. And then threads one loop through the other to form a knot.

“They’re friends! The bunnies!” Juno chirps, squealing at the possibility. 

“Yes, Juno, the bunnies are friends,” Gojo says.

“Are they best friends?”

“They can be whatever you want, kiddo.”

He finishes tying the shoe, and the second that he does, Juno stomps her other foot in front of him, the lining of her sole flashing bright with lights from the contact. Pink sparkly shoelace is now splayed out on the pavement once more.

Gojo levels his gaze with her, resting his elbows on his knees. “No, Juno. That’s why I showed you how to do it. You have to do the other one.”

“But! Uncle Toru! You’re faster at it.”

He sighs, hanging his head a little in defeat, some of his fringe he had slicked back for the purpose of his 12PM house showing falls over his forehead from the movement. He looks back up at Juno and she looks entirely thrilled to be stressing him out like this. “I can’t do this for you every time, kid. Your uncle’s getting old. My back hurts, and my vestibular system is degrading. I’m gonna start looking like Grandpa Lou Pickles real soon.”

She slaps her hands to her mouth, one over the other, to try and stifle that full-of-glee giggle that bubbles from her throat. 

There was nothing like making a kid laugh at your own expense. 

Gojo smiles at her then pushes up on his knees to stand up straight with a small huff. He smooths down his tie to lay it flat with his grey suit jacket and corrects any creases. “You’ve got it?”

She nods enthusiastically, kneeling down quickly to tie her own shoes. She makes the little bunny loops, gets confused when she crosses them over, her pinky finger somehow getting caught in the knot, but she manages to pull the laces through and makes a very uneven bow. But at least a bow, it was. 

She stands up, jumps up and down with happiness, clapping her hands together saying, “yay!! I did it!!”

“Good jooooob, Juno,” Gojo says, ruffling her curly hair until she’s annoyed by it and pushes his hand away to smooth down the frizz he just created. “Now, let’s get going. You’re going to be late.”

Gojo doesn’t need to park ten minutes away from Juno’s elementary school, and force her to walk all the way to the entrance, since in theory, he could wait in the agonizing line of parent drop-offs that’ll get her off right at the gate. But some of his favorite memories when he was a kid was when his dad would walk him to school. They’d count every Volkswagen beetle that would drive by, or slugbugs as his dad used to call them, and he’d get a free pass to punch his old man in the hip every single time he saw one. Either that, or a dollar towards ice cream after school at the end of the week. He outgrew the violence by the time he got to third grade. And curiously, that’s also when he developed a sweet tooth.

The nice thing about being a realtor is that Gojo had a pretty decently flexible schedule. And although he found himself working on most weekends, since that’s when he’s able to book showings for the most part, it at least means that he has the capacity to drop his niece off at school at 10am on a random Tuesday when her parents can’t. Because he has no place he’s expected to clock in or show up to that’s against his will. But, of course, that means he’s basically their go-to contact for moments like this. Where they can’t drop her off at dance practice, pick her up from school, or keep an eye on her when she’s at home. He would never complain about it, though. Not with the way Juno blabbers his ear off during the ten-minute walks to school about all the latest happenings of Sophia the First like there was no other person in the world she’d rather share all the drama too. And also the fact that, instead of punching his hip whenever she sees a slugbug, she opts to hug his leg instead. 

“Are those kids still bothering you at school?” Gojo asks her when she hops over a tiny rock.

She glances down at her shoes, the grip of her hand wrapped around Gojo’s finger weakening slightly. “No…”

“Juno, are you lying to me?”

“No!” she yells, loudly, as if she was offended by the assumption.

“You let me know if they are, okay?” Gojo says. He stops walking and pulls his finger from her grip so that she’ll stop kicking rocks and actually pay attention to what he says. She looks up at him and blinks. “I need you to know that no matter what, family will always have your back. Understood?”

Her lip quivers a little. “Yes Uncle Toru.”

Gojo takes Juno’s tiny hand in his again as the two of them continue to walk down the sidewalk and finally pass the noisy cross-section of Juno’s elementary school. 

“Uh-oh…” Juno stops in her tracks suddenly once they’ve reached the courtyard in front of the main entrance where there are bustling children making their way inside the gates. She pulls her hand from Gojo’s grip before glancing up at him and twiddles with a coil of her hair. Parents are walking their children up to the walk-in zone, some giving their kids hugs and kisses goodbye. The colors all around are nauseating, with bright neons and blue and pinks and, quite frankly, hues that not a single person in the world has any business meshing together. Like barf green and mustard yellow. But chaos was comfort to the undeveloped brain.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Gojo says as he looks down at a doe-eyed Juno, turning his ear towards her because it was hard to hear her meek voice over the teachers yelling as they try to round the kids up before first period starts.

“Um…” she blinks, “I forgot my lunch moneys.”

“Oh,” Gojo says, his shoulders relaxing, then he reaches into his pocket for his wallet, pulls out a twenty dollar bill, then hands it to her, “here you go. No problem.”

Juno glances down at it, her tiny hand gentle with the paper, careful not to crease it. She looks up again. “Um. Uncle Toru.”

“Uh huh?”

“Lunch is three dollars.”

“I don’t have any ones on me, sweetheart. Just keep it. Buy one of those books from the book fair.”

Her eyes light up at that before the excitement stifles with some realization. “Oh. Um. It’s,” she counts on her fingers, “twenty-six dollars for book and my lunch.”

He fishes out another twenty, but squats down again to level his gaze with her before he hands it to her. “Your mommy didn’t give you money for the book fair?”

Juno gets shy, averting her gaze to the ground as she rubs her ankle with her other foot. “No…I wanted, um, the fairy book.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But mommy said no. That there is no money.”

“No money?”

She nods. “Mhm.”

“Okay…” He frowns. “That’s all she said to you?”

Juno nods.

“Are–” Gojo starts, but then the loud-pitched shrieking of a couple of girls towards the right cuts him off.

“Juno!!! Juno!!!” they yell, skipping up to Juno with excitement before squeezing her into a bear hug, looking like a huddle of pigtails and sparkly backpacks. Gojo stands up straight again and watches the scene unfold. 

Juno, her cheeks as red as beet, smiles when they pull away from the hug and jumps up and down with them. 

“She’s here! She’s here!” one of her friends exclaims.

“Hey, hey, hey, wanna trade silly bands?” the other one chirps.

Gojo lets out a slow exhale, waving a hand back to Juno when she bashfully glances over her shoulder at him as she walks towards the school entryway with her friends. He makes sure to keep an eye on her all the way until she gets through the gates, into the sea of students. He pushes his hands into his pockets, his gaze set straight ahead at the green paint outside the school, still watching Juno as she approaches the heavy double doors. There is some unsettling feeling at the base of his ribs, as if to warn about unfinished business. The feeling doesn’t pass, even when he’s satisfied at the sight of Juno making it inside school. His brow furrows slightly in concentration, but his train of thought is interrupted by a feminine voice that calls out from behind him.

“Is she yours?” he hears the voice call out, and when he turns his head to the side, he sees a woman dressed in faded mom jeans, a striped long sleeve, and black leather boots approaching him from the side.

“Oh, no,” Gojo pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake his palm in front of him, “she’s my niece.”

“Ahhh,” the woman smiles, “she’s adorable.”

“Right? Super smart, too.”

She lets out a small exhale through her nose, one that’s reminiscent of a laugh, before turning her head to look over her shoulder towards the playground where the preschoolers next door were still preoccupied by their playtime. Gojo trails her gaze to a small group of boys by the monkey bars, and he sees one of them making snow angels face-down in wet dirt. When he glances back at the woman’s face, she looks affectionately disturbed. 

“That’s my Timmy,” she says, “and I really can’t say the same about him.”

He laughs. “It’s fine. I was just like that when I was a kid. He’ll grow out of it.”

“Do you have any of your own?” she asks.

“Not that I know of,” he responds. 

She laughs at that. He had half expected her to roll her eyes. 

“I’m Mari, by the way,” she says with a smile, smoothing her palms down the fabric over her thighs.

“Satoru,” he responds, and he doesn’t pass over the gesture of a handshake, which she seems taken aback by, but still accepts when she squeezes his hand.

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before…” she trails off.

He squints his eyes a little to see if he can place her face too. Or maybe come up with places she may have seen him. When he runs a blank, he says, “I’m here often to drop my niece off. My sister and her husband are–” he feels that same sensation in his ribs, “pretty busy these days.” They’ve asked him to drop Juno off at school so many times by now that the moms around the place are starting to recognize him.

“That’s sweet,” she says, crossing her arms and rubbing at her elbow as she glances over at her son again. “I wish I could have help like that. They're so lucky to have you around.”

“Yeah…I should really hold it against them more often.”

She laughs. “Seriously though!” She sighs, and when he remains quiet because he can tell she’s building up to something more vulnerable, she takes the invitation to vent. “Just–...you know, it’s so hard to juggle everything. Work, the kid–”

“Yeahhh.”

“It’s like there’s just never enough hours in a day–”

“Definitely.”

“Some days it just gets so overwhelming to the point where I’m, like…like not even really a person anymore–”

“I can imagine.”

“And–” she stops to look at him, suddenly embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I think I’m just venting.”

He shakes his head at her. “You’re all good.”

She purses her lips together in thought, squinting her eyes slightly at him, before her shoulders relax. “Would you…” she starts, “like to get coffee sometime?”

“Oh, no, sorry, I’m–” he pulls his left hand up out of his pocket to hold it up in the air, but then stiffens entirely when a chill runs down his spine.

Because it wasn’t a reflex of recent events, 

It was a reflex from years ago. 

“You’re…?” she says, tilting her head to the side curiously as if to feign innocence of the fact that there’s a ring on his finger until she hears the words from him personally. As if the ring would vanish with enough wishful thinking.

His shoulders, tense and rigid, slowly drop back down before he breathes in deep and says, “I’m married.”

. . .

As Gojo makes his way back to the neighborhood where he parked his car, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolls through his recent calls, and is surprised to find that his brother-in-law’s name is a bit higher up on the list than he thought it would be. Or wanted it to be.

He lifts the phone to his ear when he presses dial, and the phone almost rings through four times before someone finally picks it up. 

“Yo! The man! The bro-in-law! What’s goin’ on, dude!” he hears Jun’s rather chirpy voice on the other line.

“Hey Jun,” Gojo says into his phone, walking down onto the residential street, “Just calling to let you know Juno’s been dropped off. I found out from one of the teachers that it’s only a half day today, though. So you’ll have to pick her up earlier.”

“Oh shoot…” Jun trails off, and Gojo can already tell what he’s about to ask of him.

Gojo likes Jun. He’s always liked the guy, actually. Although he always thought Sana would end up with someone Gojo didn’t like, as some act of defiance. But Jun was a lot different than the waste-of-space high school boyfriends Sana brought home during her teenage years (sorry if that sounds rude, it’s just that, once upon a time, Gojo used to be a waste-of-space high school boyfriend, as most teenage boys are, so he knows how awful they are and eventually grew into the conscious reasoning of loathing them). But anyway, Jun was a reliable guy. Hard-working, always seemed like he was on the hustle with his business, but he was a little unsettlingly cheerful all the time. The first expression of his that comes to mind whenever one thinks of him is a smile full of pearly white teeth and eyes squinted shut from the curve of his cheeks, but Gojo always figured it was some businessman tactic that eventually integrated into his personality as a whole. 

“Do you think you could—” Jun starts.

“No, Jun, I can’t,” Gojo cuts him off, “I’m closing a sale today.”

He knows he said he could never complain about looking after Juno, but in a sense, forcing her dad to ditch a measly hour of work to show up and pick her up from school is in a way looking after her. Kids need their dads, and it’s a little sad that even just showing up is something not a lot of them care to honor.

“Ayyy that’s okay then, I’ll just figure it out,” he says, “but thanks for dropping her off this morning!”

“Sure thing.” Gojo’s phone starts ringing, and he sees he has an incoming call from one of his clients. “Hey, I’ve gotta go. But remember, her school gets out at 1:30.” And he barely hears the acknowledgement from Jun before he switches calls.

By the time Gojo wraps up his afternoon showing, and spends a couple hours putting together all the paperwork for the sale he’s closing later today, he’s starving. And he considers picking up some Thai food on his way home but then he gets a text from you.

|| 1:04PM Neighbor HerbGarden: hey I made chicken parm. would you like me to set aside a plate for you

He can’t help the smile on his face from the message, and how strangely polite it is. He’s usually the type to call someone to respond to a question they ask him through text (the worst kind of person), but instead he finds him typing back.

|| 1:05PM Gojo: Sure although I’d prefer mine without any poison please

He sees the little three dots as you type.

|| 1:06PM Neighbor HerbGarden: unfortunately I cannot make any such accommodations 

And there it is again, that amused grin he can’t help. It’s uncannily similar to his days of being a waste-of-space high school boyfriend, except now he’s texting on iOS 18 instead of a Nokia brick. But also, he’s not seventeen anymore. It’s kind of dangerous that you make him feel like he is, though.

He hears his phone ping again.

|| 1:08PM Neighbor HerbGarden: also can you please pick up some orange juice from the store

|| 1:08PM Neighbor HerbGarden: without pulp

He blinks at the screen, before responding with,

|| 1:08PM Gojo: 👍👍👍

He stares at the messages for a few more seconds, then up at the blank grey contact number and your name Neighbor HerbGarden. He has a lot of numbers in his phone, from years and years of building clientele both in one of the biggest Metropolitan cities in the country, and also here in Dayton County within the past year that he’s lived here. Sometimes it was just easier and more efficient to save people in his phone as something that’ll make him remember who they actually are rather than just an arbitrary name. In one of the first times he met you, you brought him two bunches of dried oregano from your herb garden, and so he saved you in his phone as Neighbor HerbGarden to differentiate you from Neighbor BasketballHoop to his right.

Gojo presses his lips into a thin line then glances up to the sky as he stands outside of the vacant home he’s about to make major bank on today, and then clicks edit on your contact name.

He backspaces Neighbor HerbGarden then types,

Wife

He exhales slowly, then adds,

… (?)

To the end of the word.

Then shoves his phone in his pocket.

.

.

.

—

“God, that was delicious,” Gojo sighs as he sets the plates in the dishwasher, “I mean, seriously, you could open a restaurant. Er, actually, on second thought, probably not. Considering the natural disaster level of a mess you’ve left the kitchen in after making just one meal.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you say, and he turns around to see you standing behind him still clad in your marinara-stained apron and your hair that was once pulled taut up into a ponytail now falling loose over your shoulders. The only thing that could make the sight even sexier is if you were topless. “Now sign this,” you say, holding up a sheet of paper to his face and placing a stern fist to your hip.

He blinks at you and slowly turns the faucet off before drying his hands off on the towel while still facing you. His eyes briefly skim the top of the page which says Contract.

“Uh, what’s this?” he asks.

“Our rules.”

He doesn’t even take a second to read another single word before his eyes flit up to yours, his brow quirking. “Rules?”

“Yes,” you say, and blow a puff of air up your cheek to get the hair out of your face, “remember? No touching, no sex, no sneaking into my room, no peeping in on me in the shower, and—” You point a finger up, “New one. No. Flirting.”

His mind fixates on the word sex. “No sex? Didn’t you ask me to fuck you the other day?” he says as he leans back on the counter, an amused look on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“That—” you stiffen then relax your shoulders before pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration of yourself, “I don’t recall such an event occurring.”

“Really? Well thank god I’ve got a ring camera set up in the living room.” He pretends to pull the app up on his phone.

“No!” you yell, reaching out to hold his forearm to stop him, likely through a way of distraction as his eyes flit to the curl of your fingers as you sink your nails into his skin. He quietly sucks a breath in through his teeth. “….stupid ring camera,” you mumble dejectedly, “I hate it.”

He sighs. “Baby. You’re the one that demanded I get it installed.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “You and your strange fear of home invasion.”

“Don’t call me baby,” you hiss at him, and it’s rather easy to see the flush to your cheeks, “that counts as flirting.” You slam the paper down onto the counter. “Now sign this.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, “don’t wanna.”

“Sign. It.”

“Nope, not without my lawyer present.”

“Ouuuuuu that really handsome one with the tight trousers and the sexy Benz?” you swoon cartoonishly.

He glances up at the ceiling in thought, then takes the bait. “Who needs lawyers, anyway.”

“Mhmmmmm exactly,” you hum in satisfactory agreement then wave the paper in front of his face again like he’s a dog. “So sign it.”

He hesitantly takes the sheet from you. “What good is signing a makeshift contract going to do?”

“I’m sick of people pretending like they don’t know that they’ve wronged me. So, with this contract, when you eventually wrong me, I’ll have it in writing that I specifically asked you not to.”

God damn you were kinda crazy. It was simultaneously hot and scary at the same time. I mean, he’s always known that about you; that you’re a bit differently strung than most people he’s ever met, even more so compared to the women he’s met, but there was something oddly charming and redeeming about it all too. It’s hard to explain. In the city, people are nice to your face but then fuck you over behind your back. Like, invite you over for dinner when their family is in town but then tell the principal that your kid shoved their kid at school just so that their kid gets the last spot on the T-ball team. But here in small Dayton County, people care less of the small gesture frivolities and would rather go straight into repairing your flat tire on the side of the road no questions asked, and no thanks needed, but God forbid you expect them to flash you a smile when you pass by them on the street. He kinda liked the latter, preferred the latter, and considering that you were born-and-raised here, you’re a woman who was as close to that Dayton County sentiment as anyone here could get.

He liked it though. Sure, you cuss him out often and act in ways that confuse the ever living hell out of him, but something told him that when it came down to it, and I mean really came down to it, you were someone he could trust. And trust is a feeling that’s hardly given out carelessly in this day and age.

He finally takes a better look at this contract of yours. Just a few lines of size 12pt font of Times New Roman and a numbered list with rules on it. It was a poorly put together contract of contingencies of which he knew he’d have no business following. Sure, he’s exercised self restraint up until this point, perhaps his biggest challenge thus far having been captured in 720p resolution on that Ring camera over in the other room that faces the couch, but if you kept wearing those prudish nightgowns all over the house and asked him to fuck you in the middle of a weekday one more time, he’s ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure he’d have no willpower left at that point.

He sighs and pretends to fully read all the words typed out on your contract, then flips it around so the contents face you as he holds it up. “Cross out the no flirting and we’re good.”

“I am not crossing that out.”

“If you live with me, I’m going to flirt with you. That’s just how it’s going to be.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Baby. This ask of yours is what’s borderline ridiculous.”

“Stop with the ‘baby!!!” you sneer at him and he can’t help but laugh.

He places the paper down on the surface of the island and clicks the pen, crosses out no, writes in occasional and adds is okay after the word flirting so that it reads: occasional flirting is okay. Then scribbles his signature on it.

“Here you go,” he says as he hands it back to you.

“I did not permit any addendums.”

“Look, honey, it’s the best you’re gonna get.”

He sees you scribble something down onto the page and then you hold it up for him to see.

No pet names.

“Do you agree?” you ask in a way that suggests you won’t take no for an answer.

He sighs. “Sure.”

“Good,” you say, satisfied as you stare down at the contract with approval before looking up at him again with a narrow, almost pissed-off gaze. It gets him borderline excited. “Now, are you a man of your word?”

“I hope so.”

“That’s not very reassuring. Try again.”

“It’s hard for me to say.”

“Why?”

“Well, with you, it’s hard for me to say.”

“That makes me self conscious.”

“Don’t be,” he says.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you respond, then shuffle across the hardwood floors of the kitchen into the dining room where you sit down there along with all the hospital bills you’ve had scattered there since you moved in.

He sighs, watching as you grab a stack of all your envelopes and papers and manila folders then dump them all on the kitchen island.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’m running out of space.” You turn on your heel to head back to the dining table but then spin to face him again. “And please don’t look at the bills. I’d rather pretend they don’t exist.” Then you turn the corner back to where you came from.

Gojo sighs to himself, his eyes briefly flitting down to the stack of unsorted papers you’ve left on the table. He sees scribbles of paid and to be paid and ask for itemized bill and has already been sent to collections and repeat charge all over them, wondering how in hell you manage to keep track of all this. He feels stressed on your behalf.

Something catches his eye, among all the paperwork. A tiny corner poking out from under a bill for a thirty-four-hundred dollar chemotherapy infusion. The finely printed black ink on it is hard to read, but Gojo tugs it out and holds it up at eye level.

Carevest Capital est. 2024

Invest in a healthier you!

And when he skims to the bottom, he sees CEO Jun Miller, phone: (851)-334-5555 for the contact.

His brow furrows together. He inhales deeply before shuffling his feet over to the dining hall.

“Hey,” he says, pinching the card between his index and middle finger then holding it up, “what’s this?”

You turn over to look at him, eyes wide and blinking innocently before you squint at the card. “Huh? Oh. That’s your brother-in-law’s business card. For his healthcare cost relief company.”

“He gave it to you?”

“Mhm.”

Gojo frowns. He brings the card down to look at it again. Last time he checked, Jun ran a small local auto parts repair shop. Routine stuff like cracked windshields and tinted windows, with the hopes of expanding business to a couple more places within the zip code. Gojo had never heard of any healthcare cost relief company. And he figured Jun would’ve provided some sort of proof of pay for it when Gojo helped him process the loan for their new house. It doesn’t make sense.

Gojo sighs, and chalks it up to ambition. He knows how businessmen are. A lot of his clients are like that. They always think they’ve caught the next-best-thing and want to chase it before anyone else can.

You’re still blinking at him with a mildly confused face.

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I wouldn’t put any money into this if I were you, though.”

You sigh and slump your shoulders. “As if I even could.” But then you turn to look at him again. “Why? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“What? Entrusting large sums of your money to some company that promises to somehow double it and give it back? Of fucking course not.”

“You don’t trust your own brother-in-law?”

“It—” He’s a little taken aback by the question. “It’s not that I don’t. It’s just that I don’t really trust businessmen at large.”

“Aren’t you…technically a businessman?”

“What?”

You put your elbow up on the chair’s backrest and twist your torso more to look at him. “Last time I checked, you sell houses.”

“That—…that’s different.”

“Is it?”

“I’m a realtor. Not a businessman. Business people, you know, they play dirty to get what they want. I’m just helping people with a task that they don’t always have the time or resources to do.”

“You literally make up contrived skit scenarios so that your clients find houses more memorable, and also pimp yourself out to divorced housewives so they’ll follow through on a return offer. That’s no better than the way a businessman manipulates.”

“Is your opinion of me really that low?”

And he asks it with genuinity. Not laced with mirth, or faux arrogance, or a childlike desire for banter. He genuinely wants to know, after the past few weeks of getting to know each other a little bit better, if you really think of him as someone like that.

As if you felt the way his tone cut through air, setting precedent for what had otherwise felt like a neutral conversation tethering on an edge of hostility, you sit up a little straighter in your chair and your eyes are wide again as you blink at him, and he sees the shallow rise of your chest as you breathe through the movement of your marinara-stained apron. 

“No,” you say, your expression softening, “it’s not.”

He’s not sure what exactly your words accomplish in him, or what reward he gained for seeking them out, if any, but he just lets out a huff of an exhale and grabs his suit jacket off the back of the chair at the head of the table, pulling his arms through the sleeves before shrugging it into place. Then he grabs his keys off the wooden surface and glances at his watch. “Alright,” he says, “that’s good to know.” Then heads towards the door.

.

.

.

—

“You know, Satoru, I met my wife on a military excursion to Thailand. It’s precisely why I’m ruined for all American women. The women over there, they just move with this sort of sensual grace that the women here can’t compete with.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo barely nods in acknowledgment of his client’s words as he sits at the lonesome dining table located in the otherwise chilling vacancy of this house he’s about to hand over. “So, did you two have a chance to take a look at the walkthrough report?”

The wife curls her arm around her husband’s bicep, and from an outsider’s perspective, it would look awfully inappropriate given she looks at least twenty years younger than him, but to Gojo, it’s something he tends to see pretty often when he makes sales up in the neighborhoods of this part of town.

“Yes,” she says, smiling up at her husband, and the action alone ages her ten years from the ripples of botox visible in her cheeks, “Len and I are so ready to call this home our own.”

“What do you think of Thai women, Satoru,” Len asks him, completely ignoring any and all tasks at hand because he’s not satisfied with the low level of interest his realtor is taking to his fruitless words.

“Never been with one,” Gojo comments flatly as he flips through the closing documents and highlights whatever needs to be signed.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth, and maybe it’s because he remembers your words from earlier. About pimping himself out or playing dirty like a businessman. Gojo’s brow furrows slightly as he stares a little excessively too long at a simple key release form. But he just feels annoyed. So what if he pretends to get along with guys like Len up until that 6% commission hits his bank account? What’s so wrong about making a living? Not everyone has to be sacred about what they do for work. 

“You’re missin’ outtttt, man,” Len comments as Gojo passes all the papers over to the two of them. He only takes a quick glance at the papers before saying. Gojo taps his pen on the table as an annoyed tick, looking at the documents sitting in front of Len and thinking just sign the fuckin’ papers already, but instead, Len sets his pen down to further stall. “Why don’t we head out to lunch after this? To celebrate. I’m craving some Tom Kha Soup,” he says with an exaggerated accent, then points the pen at Gojo. “And we’ll hook you up with a nice Thai lady while we’re there.”

“I already had lunch,” he says, not even bothering to say and I’m also married because he knows the ‘already having had lunch’ excuse would hold more weight to Len than any declaration of lifelong romantic commitment.

“Bummer,” Len says, “you ate at home?”

“Yup.”

“I gotta start doing that, too, you know, eating healthier,” Len says before leaning back into his chair with a grunt. “Doctor said somethin’ to me about my cholesterol gettin’ too high and that even the statins won’t be able to save me.”

His wife looks like she’s just heard the most fantastic news ever, but conceals it with a frown, then swats a playful hand towards Gojo.

“Does your wife cook for you?” she asks cheerfully.

Technically, you’ve only offered to include him in your lunch plans two or three times so far, and coincidentally only on the days he mowed the lawn in the morning like you asked him to, but he says, “yeah, she does.” To keep things simple. But he also comes to the realization that you’re trying to Pavlov him into doing more chores around the house by feeding him ridiculously good food.

“See, Len? Some men actually appreciate their wives’ cooking.” She pretends to appear offended as she playfully smacks at her husband's chest.

“Sweetheart, you know I didn’t marry you for your cooking,” he drawls, saying it near her ear as if it were meant to be said in secret and she bashfully giggles.

For fucks sake he’s not sure how much longer of this he can take. The feeling of awkwardness as he sits on the other end of the most classic stereotypical conversation he would ever have the displeasure of hearing between a boomer and his too-young-for-him foreign wife. He wonders what you’d say if he bitched about this conversation to you. He could picture you yelling in passion about the perpetuation of the patriarchy with the disgraceful existence of predatory men like Len. 

In the midst of his borderline cognitive crisis, his phone starts buzzing in his pocket.

The number looks vaguely familiar, but it’s unsaved.

“Hey, sorry you two,” he says to the couple seated across from him before he gets up out of his chair, “I’ve gotta take this.” Then excuses himself into the hallway and brings his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, this is Marium calling from Rockwell Elementary, I’m looking for Mr. Gojo Satoru?”

“Yeah, speaking.”

“Oh, wonderful, thank you for taking my call. I’m just reaching out because we’re getting close to closing up the gates for school now.”

Gojo glances at his watch. 2:57PM.

“The kids got out of school about an hour and a half ago but no one has come to pick Juno up yet. She’s the last one here. We tried contacting her parents, but no one answered, so we had to reach out to her emergency contacts. Mrs. Shapiro is waiting with her, but if someone isn’t able to take her home soon, we’ll have to send her to the KinderCare on Ventura Street once the last bus comes by.”

Gojo pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes tightly. “No, I'll come pick her up. I’ll be there in ten.”

Gojo now finds himself back at his niece’s elementary school, waiting at the gate for the teacher to being her around to the courtyard. No major sale closed. His clients are going out of town tomorrow, so they had to sell today, and he’s now obligated to share some portion of his eighty-thousand dollar commission with his colleague who’s doing the favor of wrapping things up for the sale in his absence. All because Jun couldn’t even remember the time he was supposed to pick Juno up from school, even after Gojo told him twice when she’d get off. And it was safe to say he was a bit pissed. 

“Uncle Toru!!!” he hears Juno’s voice chirp from a distance, and when he turns his head, he sees her running towards him, her backpack bouncing up and down in her sprint, before she crashes into Gojo’s arms as he kneels down towards the ground and wraps her arms around her.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, then picks her up, “you ready to head home?”

Before Juno can respond, Gojo hears a man shout from the drop-off zone. He turns his head towards that direction, squints his eyes and makes out Jun’s silhouette approaching from a car that has its hazard lights turned on and he’s hastily making his way over.

“Juno!!” he waves his hand up in the air, the sound of his keys that hang from his thumb jingling as he gets closer. Gojo sets Juno down and is surprised that she doesn’t immediately run to her dad, but instead grips onto Gojo’s index finger with her whole hand and itches her ankle with the tip of her other shoe.

“Hi daddy,” she says, peering up at him underneath the roof of her baseball cap.

Jun crouches down to eye-level with her, and holds his arms out. “Hey sweetheart, how was school?”

She’s hesitant before she slowly releases her tight grip on Gojo’s finger and walks towards Jun, and accepts his embrace. “Good,” she says shallowly.

Jun sneaks a glance up at Gojo’s face, and Gojo couldn’t even hide the disappointment if he tried.

“Hey, Juno, why don’t you go sit in the car? I have Frozen playing,” he says to her, placing a kiss on her temple, and that news entirely excites Juno as she squeals with happiness then runs toward the car. Both Gojo and Jun watch her climb into the car and close the door before properly regarding each other. 

“Listen, Jun, I’m just going to give it to you straight because I’m not in the mood to bullshit,” Gojo says, “I get that you’re busy, but you can’t just forget your own kid at school and leave her stranded to the point where admin have to call her emergency contacts just to get her home safely.”

“I know, I know, it’s just that—”

“I mean, last weekend you forgot what time her dance recital was and completely missed it. The one she had been practicing towards for weeks. You’ve basically asked me to drop her off at school every day for the past week and a half with no good excuse as to why. And then you do this. Like, what’s gotten into you, man?” He takes a breath to prevent his tone from turning too sharp, but when he thinks about Juno sitting all alone in a classroom with her teacher after watching all her friends get picked up with love and taken home on what was supposed to be a fun half-day for her, he feels pissed off at the negligence. “She’s a smart kid. And as proud of that as you should be, it does mean that she’s smart enough to notice these things. And it’s going to make her feel like her own dad doesn’t care about her.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he says, panic on his face as the mistake settles in, “it’s just, you know, with Sana going back to work, her being occupied with the new job and everything, I dunno, I’m so used to her taking care of Juno but now that more responsibility has fallen on me, it’s really hard to manage with my businesses—” he catches himself, his eyes widening, and Gojo narrows his, “…my business.” He corrects himself.

“What could be more important than your own kid?” Gojo asks.

“Nothing. At least there shouldn’t be. You’re right.”

But even after Jun gave him the answer he expected to hear, the question still lingers in his head. Businesses. Jun is running more than just the auto parts company, at least one other one that he knows of based on what you told him regarding the business card. He just found out right now that Sana is going back to work, after about six years of being out of the workforce.

And then he recalls what Juno said to him this morning.

But mommy said no. That there is no money.

Gojo’s brows furrow, and he blinks at a very guilty-looking Jun in front of him, before his expression relaxes and the stiffness in his shoulders relax.

“Is—” Gojo starts, unsure on how to tread the question, “is everything okay?”

Jun stands up a little straighter. “Yeah. Yeah, of course,” he chirps rather unconvincingly, with that same level of faux cheerfulness he often displays.

Gojo sighs, glances over to the right. He sees the preschool next door, with its playground completely deserted, then he glances back at Jun. 

“If you need help,” Gojo starts, “with anything at all,” and he sees the way Jun’s posture dampens slightly, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Will do, man,” Jun said, “but I’ll make sure I’ve got Juno’s school schedule in my phone so you won’t have to do this again.” And something tells Gojo that Jun is purposefully pretending as if he didn’t catch onto the fact that Gojo was referring to finances as some preservation of his pride in front of another man.

Gojo gives himself a couple seconds to consider if he should push the subject any further, but just respects the deflection, and says, “alright.”

.

.

.

—

God forbid a man has a drink or two during happy hour at his favorite bar to get over a rather stressful day, just to end up running into his fake wife’s ex boyfriend before he can even catch a little bit of a buzz.

Wait, that’s a lie, the first single malt was starting to flow through his veins.

And he knows you told him that he didn’t need to bother trying to make the guy jealous anymore,

But god, it was just so fun. And he could really use the entertainment right now.

“Oh every position possible, pal. Doggy, prone bone, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl. Anything from the Kama Sutra. You name it, we do it,” Gojo says.

He’s seated at the far end of the high-top, his preferable location as it was away from the bustling tables and gigantic TV on top of all the kegs that’s playing the Seahawks vs 49ers semifinals game, but it’s still close enough to the bartender to make small talk when he wanted it. Up until he was interrupted by the guy to his right who’s standing with fists clenched tightly at his sides from hearing Gojo flaunt of this allegedly stellar sex life he’s got with the guy’s ex girlfriend. Truth be told, Gojo forgot his name. He tries to place it as he looks the man up and down from where he’s seated. Nappy black hair, long enough to curl at the back of his neck, wearing an obnoxiously tight black shirt, along with black leather pants.

“She doesn’t even like cowgirl,” he says defensively, “always used to say it hurts her knees.”

Fuck. Of course you have knee problems. Think, Gojo, think. “Uh, she likes it with me,” he comes up with, “she likes anything with me.”

Gojo glances up at the guy once again when he doesn’t respond back fast enough, seeing the way his jaw clenches and his hands further condense into fists at his side. The amusement of making him get all riled up quickly dissipates, as he imagined it would anyways, and instead, he almost feels sorry for him. Gojo knows exactly what he must be thinking right now. Memories of you naked that he’s preserved like holy water after the end of a seven year relationship, now morphing into visuals of you getting railed by your new husband instead, and that sweet image he has of you in his head will never be the same. Forever being ruined by another guy’s dick. It’s an intrusive thought that every man on the planet has experienced at some point or another, himself included. He’s already fucked you more in this guy’s imagination than he’s even remotely gotten close to doing in real life (well, he was partially to blame for that) but Leather Pants over here isn’t going to know that when he’s losing sleep over it at night. And now Gojo’s got guilt on his conscience. His least favorite feeling.

Ah.

Choso.

Choso Kamo.

That was his name. 

Gojo glances down at his glass of scotch, trailing the line of the rim with the pad of his index finger, feeling more heat radiating off of the rage from Choso’s body than the woodfire flame of the heaters behind the high-top counter.

He sighs then glances over at Choso again, eyeing him in dim lighting. “You’ll find someone else, man,” he says, “don’t get hung up on just one person. It’s a useless kind of torture.” 

He speaks as if he’s entirely detached from the sentiment.

Choso crosses his arms. “So it’s not just some scam, then? You two really are married?” He grits his teeth. “In good faith?” He mocks the law in his tone as if he doesn’t defend it. 

Gojo stares blankly at the surface of wood in front of him, the color charred with black and faded with use, his expression sobering for a moment as he lets out a deep breath. His stare turns shallow, like he’s about to dissociate, and for some reason, the lie doesn’t come as easy to him this time. “You were there in the courtroom. You know the answer to that question.”

Choso huffs, and as if he couldn’t help going against his own oath to secrecy, he declares, “I’m investigating, you know. At least I will be. Collecting evidence.”

Gojo exhales, staring down at the amber liquid in his glass, before bringing the rim to his mouth and tipping some of it back. 

He’s familiar with US federal law regarding marital insurance fraud. 8 U.S.C. 1033 and 18 U.S.C. 371 provide for a penalty of up to ten years in prison for it. And under that statute, perpetrators can also be expected to be fined up to $250,000. And although millions of people everyday get away with all sorts of illegal activity, he knows that there’s also millions of people everyday that don’t. That was the problem with the law in an otherwise tumultuous country. You never know how much you need to truly fear it. As if it were up to personal choice rather than any real social stature.

Truthfully, Gojo isn’t really the type to not think things through before going through with them. He’s fiscally responsible (minus his boat), tries not to get attached to places or people a little too easily, and always makes sure he knows the traffic situation ahead of time before going down Interstate 10. On the outside, he lived a rather simple life. Getting tied up into an insurance scam was certainly not the first thing he pictured for himself when he left New York City for little old Dayton County without anything other than a cabin suitcase that was mostly empty anyways. But he got invested in his rather strange neighbor who’s going through a tough time, and suddenly he’s going against everything that’s inherent to him. As previously mentioned, there is a part of him that finds it exciting. Y’know, that part that enjoys a little bit of chaos and uncertainty, that part of him that chases a thrill. That tendency to think first, act later, the one that gets people into a lot of trouble. But it’s almost like he’s been subconsciously itching for it this entire time. And maybe even for his entire life, now that he (and the alcohol) thinks about it.

But going to jail is definitely where he draws the line on adrenaline seeking.

And besides. He doesn’t want to see you fail.

He knows that to people who aren’t American, the whole idea seems so strange.

Why risk time in prison and the potential to be fined upwards of a quarter million dollars just to get healthcare for you and your loved ones?

But it’s only because that risk of consequence hardly rivals the reality of the situation anyways.

He saw your bills. He knows you told him not to look, because he knows the only way you keep your sanity and keep your head above water is by allowing a part of yourself to ignore the existence of your suffering.

But for fucks sake, forty-two-thousand-dollars out of pocket just for your mom’s two-day hospitalization? And that was just one of the outstanding bills? With big bold letters IF YOU DO NOT PAY THIS WITHIN THE NEXT 5-7 BUSINESS DAYS, WE WILL SEND THIS BILL TO COLLECTIONS.

You put any layman in a situation like that, and he couldn’t imagine suicide wouldn’t cross their mind at least once.

Gojo glances over at Choso’s jacket. The Club at Snoqualmie Ridge. 

As the saying goes, keep your friends close, and keep cops who threaten to perform a full blown investigation of the legitimacy of your marriage even closer.

“You play golf, Kamo?”

“What–” Choso stutters, a little surprised by the question, but his fists relax slowly, “yeah?”

“We should go for a swing sometime.”

“Huh? But—”

Gojo pushes his empty glass of scotch up the table a few inches then gets up out of the chair, standing in front of Choso, gaze leveling before he pats him on the shoulder, and says, “Just to see who’s the better shot.” Then brushes past him to go close out his tab.

.

.

.

—

It’s late in the evening by the time Gojo finishes running some errands and can finally unwind on the couch. A crisp cold can of diet coke in hand…impractical jokers playing for background noise from his 86 inch OLED smart TV, his legs stretched out in front of him onto the coffee table he made himself, and sunk deep into his favorite corner of the couch. The one he’s broken in over the years into that just perfect amount of give to sink ratio. It truly was the simple things in life.

He picks up the book he had left off reading from the coffee table. A white cover with bolded red letters that read Crucial Conversation: Tools for Talking When Stakes Are High. It was some self-help book one of his partners at the brokerage firm recommended to him that apparently revolutionized the way he sells houses.

“Hm,” Gojo hums to himself, flipping the pages of the book, that freshly-printed-processed-wood smell hitting his senses satisfactorily. He gets to the part he had left off on.

He squints at the pages, hard to read with contacts that are half a step below his prescription, but he at least tries to skim for the buzzwords.

The pool of shared meaning is the birthplace of synergy.

Okay, whatever the fuck that means.

He skims some more.

People don’t get defensive because of what you’re saying; they get defensive because of why they think you’re saying it.

He skims more. 

If you don’t talk it out, you’ll act it out through passive aggression.

He skims more.

The key to building safety is to step out of the content and address the conditions.

He doesn’t really know what exactly this all means but he feels like he should be taking notes.

Right when he leans over to open one of the drawers of the coffee table to fish for a pen, he hears keys jingling by the front door, somewhat frantically, before finally pushing into the lock and then the door flies open. He sits back, slightly startled, as he takes in the image of you storming inside the house looking angry as hell when you slam the door behind you.

“Hey,” he scolds, “easy on the doors, please.”

You’re pacing back and forth in front of the foyer table, clenching and unclenching your fists, mumbling what sounds like profanities to yourself over and over again, cheeks flush with rage, face scrunched up like a prune, and huffing and puffing so fast that he’s astonished he can still make out some of the words that you’re spewing.

“That…little…mother…–” You shuffle back and forth on the hardwood floor, “fucker. What a fucking–” You’re borderline hyperventilating, “JERK!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Gojo rests his book splayed open in his lap and blinks at you. “Uh. Is everything alright?”

“No!!!!” You immediately snap at him, turning to face him, and he flinches from where he’s sat. “No, it’s not!”

He’s too scared to move at this point, let alone breathe.

You breathe in deep then let out an exhale. “That–” You close your eyes from pure fury. “That motherfucking Choso Kamo,” you struggle to even say the words without gritting your teeth, “told the entire Dayton County police department that he’s the one that broke up with me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Wow,” Gojo says.

You glare at him. “I don’t need your fake sympathy.”

“All I said was wow?”

“Well, it felt very disingenuine.”

“But–”

He blinks at a fuming you, who has your arms crossed over your chest tightly, tapping your foot on the ground impatiently, expression narrow. 

He glances down at the page that was open in his book.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, quickly skimming the words, then glances up at you, “Sorry. I acknowledge that my words, er, word, may have been careless, and I apologize.”

Your expression morphs into one of surprise and barebone confusion. “O-Oh…that’s okay. I guess I was just assuming things.” You glance off towards the left, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “I’m just pissed off right now.”

“Because of what your ex said?”

“Yes. It’s annoying because now all of our local law enforcement thinks that I’m the one more affected by all of this.”

He watches you pace back and forth again, steam rolling out of your ears, face scrunched up with anger again, looking like you’re about to rip your hair off as you mumble more profanities to yourself.

He looks at you skeptically. “Are you…not?” He knows the second he says it that it was the wrong thing to say.

“I’M NOT!!!” you scream at him defensively. 

“Sorry, sorry, I–” He glances down at his book again discreetly, then says rather stiffly, “...I just want you to know that I am here for you.” 

You blink at him. “Oh…well, that’s—” You scratch at your elbow gently and then tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, “that’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

Hmmmmmmmm. 

He steals another quick glance at the page. “What’s been the hardest part to deal with in this situation?” he asks, crossing his outstretched legs at the ankle and placing his elbow up on the armrest to set his chin down on the knuckles of his fist inquisitively.

You turn to face him again, expression softening pleasantly but there’s still a bit of surprise on your face. “Oh, it–...I don’t know, I think just…it’s a misunderstanding that he’s willingly spreading.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

You let out a hefty exhale, loosely crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back onto the Foyer table. You glance at the floor deep in thought. “Mm…angry. Frustrated. Embarrassed.” You glance up at the high ceiling. “I just hate feeling misunderstood.”

“Mhm…I see,” he nods inquisitively, then glances down at the chart in the book again, “And can you pinpoint when these feelings started?”

You look up at the chandelier, expression curling into one of melancholy. “I think I’ve always just had a hard time expressing myself emotionally, where what I do kind of comes off as different from how I really feel…and so when people take things the wrong way, it just…I don’t know, it makes me upset.”

“I hear you.” He’s running a blank so he haphazardly flips the pages of the book to a whole other chapter and glances down at words that read always gather more information when necessary. Then he looks back up at you. “And what exactly did this guy do to you that’s got you so—” he pauses when you narrow your eyes at him, “…er, that made you,” he watches you nod your head encouragingly as if waiting for him to validate the reality of this situation, “…break up with him.”

You nod, satisfied by his depiction of events, but cross your arms over your chest somewhat stubbornly. When your eyes pass over to him again, your expression softens slightly, as if contemplating something, but then it becomes rigid again.

“It’s…I don’t know. It’s whatever.”

“Did he murder a family member?”

“No.”

“Did he steal money from you?”

“No.”

“Did he cheat on you?”

You avert your gaze towards the kitchen. “…no.”

“Then what?”

You exhale deeply, still avoiding eye contact with him. “The why doesn’t matter. Just know that he failed me and subsequently lost me.”

“Well,” Gojo says, “then he’s an idiot.” And he didn’t need the book to come up with that.

You look back at him with a gentle ease, and your arms drop from their crossed position before you smooth your palms down the fabric of your jeans. You try to maintain eye contact with him but not without blinking your lashes a few more times than usual. “Thanks for, um…letting me vent. I actually feel a lot better after…talking about it.”

“Sure,” he closes the book in his lap, “same time next week?”

“What?”

“—What?”

You squint your eyes at him suspiciously, but then drop it when you let out a hefty sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose in exhaustion. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

He’s not sure if it’s appropriate for a therapist to make a without me? joke in response to one of their clients announcing that they’re going to go take a shower, but he holds back regardless. 

He watches you shuffle across the hardwood floors towards the stairs, mumbling a few more remnant profanities as if you still had a couple left in you to spill. And just when he sees you lift one foot up on the first step, he remember that he should probably—

“Oh, uh, sorry, while we’re on the topic of your ex,” he says, “is now a bad time to tell you that I’m going golfing with him on Sunday?”

Your jaw drops.

The argument that ensues after was less of an argument and more you yelling at him for about ten minutes straight while he’s unable to get a single word in and has no choice but to just take it. Which even he’s self aware enough to know he deserves, regardless of whatever scheming good intentions he may seem to have. And when you storm away upstairs, slam the door to your bedroom with a force that would suggest he’ll have to repair it in the morning, he knows that he’s back to square one with you now. And if this was a real marriage, with a couple of kids running around the house, and a lack of spare bedrooms, he knows that he’d have been sleeping on the couch tonight.

One step forward, two steps back. 

.

.

.

.

.

[end of ch.8, ‘two steps back’]

song(s) of the chapter: woman by harry styles

a/n. hiii loves!! thanks so much for tuning into another chapter of ihm :'') it means a lot to meee. yeah this was the first gojo pov which had me sooooo nervous because like tbh before i wrote this chapter i kinda had no idea who ihm gojo was. because reader's pov chapters are sooo heavily skewed to her pov and she's kind of an unreliable narrator, i never really had to sit down n force myself to confront how ihm gojo feels about things personally. there were lots of times where i was hitting roadblocks in my writing of this chapter because i simply was like "...wait how would he feel about this. i don't even know" hahah idk if that makes sense but yeah i definitely had to search within myself to kinda bring more of his character traits to life and balance his good qualities against his flaws. i hope you enjoyeeddd. once again my classic ihm apology that there's so many random side plots lolol i really am trying to keep the romance at the center of the story but then i get a little carried away xd i promise there will be chapters where there are bigger developments though!! but there may also be some other ones that kinda serve for set-up :''0 i try to make each chapter engaging though at the very least. but speaking of....... i am SOOOOOO excited for chapters 9 & 10 HEHEHEHEHEHEH let's just saaayyyyy we get introduced to a character that many of my readers have been curious about :)))) but yeah chapter 9 is already one of my favorite chapters of ihm so far i've only written like maybe 4.5k words for it and i'm so pumped to finish it and post it!! and then ch10 is...also one of my faves ahhhhh huuuuuuge thank you to my beta reader leni she singlehandedly gave me the confidence to post certain scenes in this chapter that i was planning to cut out but now i'm soooo happy that i kept them in!!! she's a real one fr. and thank you to another one of my beta readers josie who really forced me to think a lot ab ihm gojo's character before i went into writing this chapter lmfaooo she made me realize i didn't know shit about him HAHAH. and ofc thank you to mirl and ayelin too for helping me figure out some of the plot intricacies and providing me w support :'''') i really appreciate it i hope you guys enjoyed!! thank you to everyone who reads and interacts and leaves love for me. i'm so happy to i'm still able to make time for writing and that there are people who look forward to my updates. love you all very much!! hope to see you in the next one <3

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[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section (pt.4)

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You are done filming for your upcoming movie and the team think of a way to help celebrate and as you gain more and more free time, you and spencer try and spend every moment together.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, jealous!Spencer, angst, social media au, suggestive themes, attempt at comedy, slowburn, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning, irl celebrities, friends that act like lovers, friends/lovers.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART THREE | PART 3.5 | PART 4.5

─ · · A/N: A really long part four since I am starting school again 😔 and don't know how long it will be till I can write something.

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🔔 (name)s_username just tweeted, check it out!

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(first/name) (last/name) @ (name)s_username · 3 days ago Where is everyone disappearing to and why is nobody talking to me at Smosh??? 😭 I am going public with this now, I demand to know your secrets! Comment | Retweet | Like | Bookmark

↳ Smosh @ smosh · 3 days ago Find us (name)...

↳ first/name) (last/name) @ (name)s_username · 3 days ago That didn't make this any better!

⟳ user_one reposted username01 @ user_one · 3 days ago They are really doing (name) so dirty recently. Like, give my guy/girl a break.

─────── · ·

🔔 Smosh Pit just uploaded! Turn off notifications here.

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Sardines Hide and Seek! Can (name) Find Us?

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 132k | Dislike | ... 8.29M subscribers 500k views 3 days ago #10 on trending we have been planning this for awhile... can (name) find our secret wrap-up filming party for them before the end of the day? watch to find out!

4,101 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator (name)s_username ✓ 3 days ago And here I thought I was going to be fired. You all are so sweet for thinking of me this way, I would never have wanted a moment of it spoiled- that revel was much worth the wait! ❤️❤️ :) ▼ 200 replies ↳ Smosh Pit ✓ 3 days ago We are all forgiven once more! ↳ username47 3 days ago Watching everyone sneak around in the background of the video was too funny, everyone looked so sus! XD ↳ username20 3 days ago (name) instantly falling to their knees and crying was so fucking cute and sweet, I swear my heart exploded in my chest as everyone clapped and cheered for them. Smosh is a true family ❤️ ↳ username99 1 hour ago They really know how to play with out heart strings, I was stressing so much these past few days- must have taken them ages to plan this out, great work to the crew! ↳ username89 12 hours ago Ian standing there weirdly as (name) cries into his chest thanking him before he hands them off to Spencer was pure gold! ↳ username72 5 hours ago IKR it was so funny but you could see how much care was in Ian's eyes when he did that.

username88 just now Okay, but from now on- only wholesome things like this for awhile okay?! Us fans cannot handle much more 😭

username56 30 minutes ago Anyone else watch the original hide and seek video before this? username33 2 days ago Okay but what was Shayne trying to do in that wig??? Did they really think that would disguise them??? username69 1 day ago Spencer picking the confetti out of (name)'s hair was so sweet. username17 2 days ago 22:42 Spencer: "are you mad at us?" ... (name): "I was but my current happiness makes up for it all." ▼ 14 replies ↳ username72 5 hours ago THE WAY THEY GIGGLE TO EACH OTHER AFTERWARDS IS SENDING ME. username21 30 minutes ago That cake by the arts department was truly a work of art! Taking all those photos and scenes from (name)'s instagram was so heartfelt. username01 just now I am late to a post for once! username42 just now The comedy of having everyone disappear after (name) turns around was perfect! I wonder if it was edited or practical...

─────── · ·

🔔 (name)s_username just posted, check it out!

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(name)s_username i love you all so much ❤️❤️❤️

View all 1,577 comments

spennser we all love you back!

↳ username01 just spat out my drink and had to re-read that a few times before realizing I need glasses. ↳ username99 mhmm, mhmm, we know you ALL do (some more than others) /positive

ianhecox yes, good pictures but we need you back in the meeting room.

↳ (name)s_username I am running my way over boss! 🫡

sydney_sweeney I would've liked to have been invited...

↳ smoshpit we will get you on the next one! ↳ glen_powell add me to that list as well! ↳ smoshpit on it!

username67 what's with the baseball bat??? 🤣

username40 been loving all the videos you have been in!

co_mill we are all so proud of you!!

phatchance why did you have to choose that picture of me?!

↳ (name)s_username you look so cute in it! ❤️❤️

oliviasui i look so wasted lol

↳ (name)s_username don't worry i was too XD

damienhaas never knew you to be a singer...

↳ (name)s_username oi! you joined me so don't even start Damien‼️ ↳ damienhaas i was just about to say we should do karaoke with the team! 😊 ↳ (name)s_username now you have me looking bad 😭 ↳ tomeybones never thought that possible babes ↳ (name)s_username im actually running away now!

─────── · ·

Some Time Later...

🔔 Smosh Pit just uploaded! Turn off notifications here.

─────── · ·

Eat It Or Yeet it: Desserts Edition

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 79k | Dislike | ... 8.29M subscribers 370k views 2 weeks ago today the cast tests their internal systems in eat it or yeet it!

2,222 Comments

username56 2 weeks ago It is so weird not seeing Spencer and (name) in a video together for once. ▼ 31 replies ↳ username72 2 weeks ago Okay but I kinda like seeing them interact with the other cast members, they do kinda stick together in the videos. Its cute and everything but change is nice! ↳ username22 1 week ago They say distance makes the heart grow fond... (even though he was on set watching this episode) ↳ username01 1 week ago I find it so funny that they can't seem to keep away from one another for long. ↳ username22 1 week ago IKR? so adorable, so them. ❤️❤️ username04 2 weeks ago The Shayne, (name), and Angela trio are so perfect. Their chemistry never fails to humor me! username17 1 hour ago Okay but that cake made out of mayo made me seriously gag, I could not believe that Angela managed to stomach that. 🤮 username88 5 days ago The way that they all suddenly act like founding fathers as (name) throws up in the background will never not be funny to me. username43 1 week ago (name) and Angela are so cute together, I love the way they grip one another's shoulders as they laugh like that pictures of foxes XD username10 2 days ago I love the way they all chased Garrett out of the studio afterwards with chairs and cutlery and through the office. That montage was LEGENDARY.

─────── · ·

Board AF: Monopoly Cheaters Edition

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 100k | Dislike | ... 7.75M subscribers 1.1M views 2 weeks ago we all have trust issues after this episode...

4,683 Comments

username97 2 weeks ago 14:11 (name): "SPENCER!!!" a few seconds later... Spencer: "(NAME)!!!" I need their energy. ▼ 417 replies ↳ username11 2 weeks ago I feel like their little play fight on the ground together should have been blurred. ↳ username19 2 weeks ago Those pinned hands looked... personal... 😳 ↳ username84 2 weeks ago My mind went straight back to Spencers insta post some time ago, that hug still haunts me. username05 1 week ago See I love this game, now (name) and Spencer need no excuses to watch each other the whole time and do their jobs secondary /positive ▼ 2 replies ↳ username99 5 days ago I know this is a joke in all, but they are arguably the two hardest workers at Smosh with their multiple roles both in front of camera and behind alongside all their outside work. ↳ username05 4 hours ago Exactly! we love a hardworking totally-not-couple ❤️❤️ username24 30 minutes ago Been loving the content recently, keep it coming! username08 1 week ago The BTS of this video was CRAZY. ▼ 220 replies ↳ username03 4 days ago OMG WHAT HAPPENED???? don't leave us on a cliffhanger here! ↳ username36 4 days ago Yeah, tell us PLEASE!! ↳ username08 15 minutes ago Okay, OKAY! Spencer and (name) were making a number of jokes about the handcuffs and did a side-interview where they told us all the schemes they planned- makes the video execution that much better! ↳ username06 15 minutes ago I need a membership STAT. ↳ username15 just now (edited) They really do be getter bolder and bolder. I really love seeing it. EDIT: like as in (name)'s confidence, from this movie they seem more comfortable in themselves.

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(name)s_username just went on a date!

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(name)s_username for a longer caption, just want to say that I can't believe this is my last interview before the film releases, its been a journey so thank you so much Amelia for having me on your show!

↳ chickenshopdate loved having you, lets meet up again soon, but as like friends... erm... ↳ (name)s_username yes, friends- please! ↳ username01 (name) really out here worried for all their "friendships" XD

username41 I am literally counting down the days until this film comes out, I am so excited!!

anthonypadilla could you sneak in one last interview??

↳ (name)s_username let me check quickly- wait yes 100%

username25 You were amazing on bit-city last night as the bystander! Please make more videos in this character!!

spennser i've never seen you both act so awkward on camera.

↳ (name)s_username i got nervous okay! be nice 😃 ↳ chickenshopdate happens to the best of us, thats why i brought out the booze honey! ↳ spennser i mean i would be nervous too... ↳ (name)s_username ikr?! ↳ username99 and it just flies over their head 🙄

username23 i like to image Spencer putting himself in Amelia (the interviewers) shoes while watching this video.

username10 your outfit was straight fire! please can someone tell me where to get this look???

username82 i could go for a slushee now....

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🔔 Smosh Games just uploaded! Turn off notifications here.

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We Are ALL (name) HERE.

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 320k | Dislike | ... 7.75M subscribers 790k views 1 week ago in (name) we trust...

2,983 Comments

username66 5 days ago Who's wet dream did we just stumble into? Mine- cough cough, what?? who said that?? * [this comment has been flagged for interfering with Youtube's Community Guidelines; for more information press HERE] username01 1 week ago (edited) I like to think when studying for this role, they all stared at pictures of Spencer longingly. EDIT: HOLY SHIT, Spencer appearing part way to help the "real" (name) with their mic as they all intently watched with jealously was out-of-this-world. Like I have no words, they all knew what to do XD ▼ 220 replies ↳ username51 just now I was LOSING MY MIND over this. ↳ username17 just now I love how they all watch what the "real" name does and copies a few seconds after XD its perfect!! ↳ username20 1 hour ago YES THIS!!! Or how Amanda kept looking behind the camera at Spencer until he told them to stop but then they all did it, im dying here 🤣🤣 username37 1 week ago I love that as soon as one of them starts laughing- they all start laughing the same way XD username40 1 week ago "real" (name)'s pout and glares were too cute as they more and more annoyed as the video progressed. username88 1 week ago Whoever green lighted this video needs to be promoted. I have watched it four times now. username37 5 days ago Yes!!! More (name) content PLEASE!!! We love YOU!!! username44 When they brought out the ipad and played kiss, marry, kill with all of (name)'s co-stars was surreal. (name) is so luckyyyy!!! username27 (name) started kit: phone background of them and Spencer, random junk in their pockets, a water bottle so big you hear it crash when knocked over, and raids their friends closets. username90 (name) looked so tried and embarrassed by the end of the video, can someone on Smosh make sure to give them a hug for me? username64 This video must have been an... experience for Spencer.

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🔔 (name)s_username just added to their story, check it out!

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🔔 spennser just added to their story for the first time in awhile.

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─ · · A/N: hope you all enjoyed this extra long part! i have a couple of things pre-written that i will try and space out but seriosuly, thank you all for your continued support! really makes my day, you all are so cool ❤️❤️

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios

[writingisland]

Found Family/Team as Family Prompts

Older mentor/team leader and the new, younger team member

1. "I wish I'd met you earlier." "Earlier? Any earlier and you'd be in diapers, kid."

2. "You alright?" "Alright? That was awesome!" "… I miss having this much enthusiasm."

3. "You weren't raised to kneel, kid. And don't dishonor yourself by turning the other cheek. Get up."

4. "Can I have a hug?" "… C'mere. You alright?"

5. "Why do you hate me?" "I don't hate you. I hate having to drag more people into this fight--no matter who."

6. "Hey, uh… There's an issue involving the new kid, and I was told to get you…" *alarmed* "What issue?" "The, uh… The arm stuck in the vending machine kind?" "… Yeah, I'll be there in a second."

7. "Why did you tell me to leave?" "What happened is nothing I haven't seen before, and nothing you should ever see."

8. "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind." "Then maybe these fuckers should stop going for the eyes of my people."

9. "Oi. You got any allergies?" "Are you making me a lunchbox?" "It's called rationing. Do you?"

10. "How'd you get that scar?" "Mauled by a dog." "And that one?" "Knife." "And the one on your face? Must've happened in a fight with some assassin, right? Were you defending some secret intel? Or protecting someone-" "I tripped up the stairs."