#source is my left knee btw

[tap1rs]

oh it is gonna be COLD tonight

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!

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

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

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

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

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 7.8k

a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33

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

Love thy neighbor.

Cherish thy neighbor.

Tolerate thy neighbor.

Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor. 

Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.

It’s murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.

Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that you’d leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. It’s the punishment he’d deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.

“SATORU!!!” you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighbor’s house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just don’t care. Anger is all you can see right now.

Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. You’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears. “Uh, do you mind? I’m trying to wash my car.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!” you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.

“Hm?” he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. “Oh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? It’s not even parked in front of your driveway.”

“Yes. It is. Are you blind? I can’t move my car into my garage, hence why it’s running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boat’s on my property.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh. Yuh-huh.”

“Honey. I’m a real estate agent. You don’t think I’d know where my own property line starts and ends?”

“Park. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.”

“I spent a lot of money on that boat,” he sighs, “I intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isn’t more than enough room for your tiny prius. It’s not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and don’t know how to pull into a driveway,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, “Oh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, that’s funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,” he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, “my niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. It’s her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.”

“Oh, right,” you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, “I forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he can’t rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.”

He stares at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, thanks anyway,” he swipes up on his phone, “they had crazy hair day at my niece’s elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.”

He turns his phone to show you. “My sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldn’t stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.”

“Aww,” you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, “I think it suits her. That’s a lot of glitter though, y’know that stuff’s really bad for the environment.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, “anyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.”

“I’m gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.”

“Hold on one sec,” he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then you’re glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. “I gotta take this.”

“Wha–” you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.

“Hi, Donna!” he exclaims into his phone, “so good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. I’m just washing my car. Nah, you’re not interrupting anything.”

The urge to smack him consumes you.

“Oh okay, cool, I’m glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if you’re still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, what’s that? Oh,” he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, “yeah, that’s fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, I’ll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommy’s soccer game yesterday?...Aw, that’s okay, he’ll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, what’s up? Oh, you know that I’d love to, and there’s no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but I’m actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.” He presses the end call on his phone, and there’s an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.

“Oh fuck,” he places a hand on his chest and exhales, “I didn’t know you were still standing there.”

“I’m seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.” 

“That gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?” he points at your hand, “you’d have blood on your hands. I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal, idiot.”

“You’re so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmer’s. How do you sleep at night?”

“With fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.”

“...that didn’t make you sound like any less of a serial killer.”

“Whatever, at least I don’t have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isn’t any better than prostitution, right?” 

“Okay. Now I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. “You flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that they’d buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,” and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, “‘it’s okay Lorraine. If you’re still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.’”

“Yeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.” 

“O-Oh,” you stutter, but stand up straighter, “doesn’t matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.”

“So what if I do? I’m hot, why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? You could’ve done the same thing too, but you didn’t, and now you’re stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.”

“You’re the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.”

He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driver’s side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’m gonna park your car in your garage for you,” he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows you’re about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before he’s able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.

“Wait– I didn’t give you permission to–” you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because you’re scared he’s gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.

When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. “You almost flattened me over my own driveway.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been standing there,” he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, case proven, there’s more than enough space to pull your car in. You’re just piss poor at parking.”

“I swear to fucking god. If you’re ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isn’t going to be the thing that kills you, it’s gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And I’ll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.”

His brow furrows and he frowns, but it’s in that sarcastic way that tells you he’s not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, “I’ve got Kaiser, hun,” he says, “I wouldn’t go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.”

“How is it you’re stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?”

“Stop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,” he hisses at you, “especially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think I’m a creep.” He pretends to shiver.

“But it’s true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.”

His eyes widen. “Damn. How’d you know.”

“That you’re a victim?” you ask, tone derisive, “your entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was never groomed, and I didn’t lose my virginity to an elderly woman,” he corrects you, “...although said woman was a little older than me.”

“I’ve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,” you practically spat at him, “the last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.” You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now you’re doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.

“Good night,” he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.

Ah. Silence.

But it was never a comfortable one. 

“Mom?” you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You don’t see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but she’s not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and she’s so still she could be a statue.

“Hey,” you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. “I’m home.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. “Why are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?” she asks you, “he helped me fix the air conditioning last week.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. “I’m pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.” 

She doesn’t respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like she’s trying to make sense of what she sees. 

“Mom,” you gently tug her sleeve, “I think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.”

She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. “Mom?” she repeats after you, “why are you calling me ‘mom’? Who are you?”

Your blood runs cold from her words, but you don’t have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But it’s cruel that she’ll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. “I’m your daughter,” you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, “I know that might be a little weird to hear right now.”

“No…” she says, “I think that makes sense. I’m sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.” She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. “My daughter, yes. You look…oh, dear, you look like you should sleep.”

You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. “Yes. You too, mom.”

You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your mom’s hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, she’s ready to take a small nap and you know that you’ve earned some sleep now too.

The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though you’ve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. You’re a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, you’re not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever. 

Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just can’t bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since you’ll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but it’s okay. It’s cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.

—

“You’re looking better,” Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, “were you able to get a good rest?”

Your mother nods and points to you. “My daughter made me take a nap.”

“That’s good,” he coos, “it’s good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.”

“I know,” your mother smiles up at you, “I’m so lucky.” You return her smile with one of your own.

Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your mother’s port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag. 

“Ready for consult?” he asks you.

You grip your binder to your chest. “Yeah.”

You walk into the doctor’s office, one you’ve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnson’s desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your mother’s recent lab work.

“Her tumor markers are rising,” you say as you sift through the papers.

“They are, we’ll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But it’s okay, not to worry,” he says, “tumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.”

“She had a cold last week,” you say, “maybe it’s the inflammation?”

Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget you’re a nurse.” He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. “When was your mother’s last PET/CT scan?”

“It was in February,” you say, “she’s due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll do it right now,” he says as he types something into the computer. “You still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?”

“No, that’s okay, I got them already. Good for six months,” you reassure him.

“Alright, perfect.”

There’s an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your mother’s medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.

“It’s good she remembers you today,” Dr. Johnson comments, “I remember last week you were upset she didn’t.”

“Oh,” you say, “yeah, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard.”

His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say, “um, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that I’ve been keeping track of my mom’s Alzheimer’s progression.” You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesn’t really spare a proper enough look. “I’ve just been noticing she’s progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, you’re a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And it’s for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.

“I was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?” you ask, “just to rule out anything…her brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and I’m just really worried about metastasis, especially if it’s a glioma, I’d just want to catch it as soon as possible.”

You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting what’s best for their loved one? You don’t think that’s an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing medicine. 

He sighs. “There’s no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. I’d suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“I know,” you say, “but her next scan isn’t for another couple weeks, plus the week it’ll take to have it read, it’ll be far out, so…if we could just order it now?”

He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork you’ve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes you’ve been taking of your mom’s responses to her Alzheimer’s treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. “Alright. Fine, I’ll order one. I highly doubt we’ll find anything, though. But since there’s no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,” he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, “I don’t think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.”

“That’s okay,” you quickly respond, “I’ll pay for it.” 

You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her it’s okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.

—

“God damn,” you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. “It’s like being hot is a part of their job requirement.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.

4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded “suck on this, bitch”, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of pt’s behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor

“How’s your mom doing?” Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.

“She’s okay,” you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, “she has a PET/CT soon. It’s always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.”

“Have you given hospice any more thought?” she asks.

You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. It’s becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctor’s appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you can’t even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you can’t remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. You’re not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact you’re still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare. 

“I did,” you say, “I’ve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than I’d like.” You glance down at your keyboard. “I…I’m going to miss having my mom home. Even though it’s hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.”

“Aw, my dear,” Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, “I’m sure you’d love to have her home, but I think it’s becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.”

Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.

“It’s too much for just one person,” she continues, “while I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time you’re spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where you’re not worrying about her medication schedule or doctor’s appointments or blood draws and all that.”

You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. “Thanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. I…I think I’ll look more seriously into hospices. It’s just they’re really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.”

“Hmm,” she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. “Y’know, there’s this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friend’s mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,” she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, “I think it’s only a fifteen minute drive from your house.”

You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didn’t come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. “It’s probably really expensive. My mom’s under the state insurance right now, but I’ve explored government insurance plans too and they’re still really pricey. I just can’t afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isn’t really going to be any better either.”

She groans. “I know. What’s with our healthcare plan? You’d think as a hospital, they’d choose better plans for their employees,” she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, “but my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. I’m sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.”

You blink at her. “Really? T-That’s insane…do you know what insurance her husband has?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Kaiser facility.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “well, they wouldn’t accept state insurance. That’s a private HMO.”

“Shoot,” Hana looks at you apologetically, “I’m so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“That’s okay,” you smile at her, “thanks for trying. I’m glad it worked out for your friend, at least.”

Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and you’re left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.

Hmm.

Kaiser.

You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.

Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, you’re pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you can’t remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser. 

Nope. Nothing.

Oh well, maybe it’ll hit you later.

—

It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (don’t ask). 

Kaiser.

Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance. 

And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure you’re still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that you’re not. And the idea still persists. And now you’re swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists. 

And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? It’ll be fine.

But you can only hope he says yes.

.

.

.

[reading commercial break]

hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand reader’s desperation to financially cover the costs of her mother’s healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:

“Where America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.” p360; “...America spends more on health care than any other nation–two and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earn–$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogether–is spent on health care.” p359

unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.

but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand reader’s desperation to save a buck!!! 

ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! 🧚‍♀️💕✨

[end of reading commercial break]

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—

You’re sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because you’re unable to alleviate any of the anxiety you’re experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then you’re a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.

You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you say with a small wave.

He takes a seat across from you. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. “And if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, I’m just gonna say no again. I didn’t even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.”

“It’s a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that you’re being a stuck-up prick about it?”

“You know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?”

“Wha–” you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter “...those two-faced bitches” under your breath.

“So,” he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, “what did you want? I’ve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.” He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oh. Right. Just a favor,” you say, “I was wondering if you could marry me.”

He almost spits out his coffee.

“E-Excuse me?” he croaks out, exasperated, and he’s coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

“I mean, if it’s not an issue, I’d really appreciate it if you could marry me,” you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably should’ve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now you’re too deep to backtrack, so you just hope you’ll find the conversation along the way.

He’s looking at your like you’ve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you don’t understand why you’re already seethingly angry about what he’s going to say next.

“Oh god,” he sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Huh?” you squeak out.

“Listen,” he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, “I know that I’m very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armor–”

“Satoru.”

“–and yes, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he dramatically sighs, “when I’m taking the groceries up the driveway…when I’m out mowing the lawn…when I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimes–”

“What the fuck are you talking about???”

“But I get it. Really, I do. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it–”

“I’m not embar–”

“It was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.” 

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you saying–”

“But,” he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, “my answer is no. I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why aren’t you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you would’ve known I’d have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Y’know, private, but also where my family’s somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beach–”

“Can you stop talkin–”

“–while the sun is setting, and I’m wearing a nice dress, and there’s bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored you’ve always been of me, and how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with me,” he indulgently sighs, “I mean, it’s every guy’s dream. But nooooo, of course you’ve got no taste or sense for romance in any capac–”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,” you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, “I cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.” You’re about to walk away from the table, because you’re realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you can’t stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and you’re not sure if he’s ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.

“Wait,” he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, “you’re being serious?”

You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. “Why would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasn’t being serious?”

He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. “Uh, to fuck with me?”

You’re still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it might’ve sounded insane on his end, and you’re also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.

“Just sit,” he sighs.

You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I…I’m being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think you’re some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?”

“I–”

“Rhetorical question, shut it.”

He blinks at you. “What favor are you asking for that’ll be satisfied by me marrying you?”

You twiddle with your thumbs. “I want to put my mom in hospice,” you say, eyes flickering down slightly because you’re worried you’re about to tear up from the words, but when you realize you’ve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, “most of the hospices in town are further away than I’d like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearby…and that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and I’d know she’s being taken care of. And…” you clear your throat, “well, it’ll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up on…well, whatever, you get the picture.”

His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. “I’m not sure if you can add a…spouse’s parent to a healthcare plan?”

“You can,” you say, “I already called to ask.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like he’s running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when he’s made a decision.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” he says.

“Y-You will?” you ask him. You’re uneasy at how easy it was to convince.

“Yeah. I like your mom. She’s a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.”

His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like you’d usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but you’re still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week. 

“Really?” you make sure, almost like you’re hoping he’ll change his mind because now you’re suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize he’s already making you paranoid.

“Yeah. I’m saying yes to your proposal, y/n,” he says, “I mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. I’d want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case you’re a gold digger.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think I’d believe you’ve got any gold to dig?”

He sighs. “I said in case.”

“Well, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,” you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Um. You’re going to make me shake your hand over this?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

“Yes,” he says, “for a diplomatic agreement.”

“Precisely,” you say. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. “Nevermind. I don’t want to touch you.”

“Okay,” he easily accepts, “not how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, when’s the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?”

“Just be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.”

“What?! This weekend? That’s too soon,” he panics, “I need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, and–”

“Satoru. Seriously. Just–...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that you’ve already given me gets worse.”

You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just staring off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made. But that’s how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesn’t piss you off.

“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, “are you gonna take my last name?”

“Fuck no, I’d rather die.”

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking.”

.

.

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[end of chapter 1]

a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane 😍

➸ take me to chapter two!

taglist: @tremendousbouquetflower @cowgirlcujoh @joemama-2 @shinypearlywhites @sykosugu @lovebittenbyevans @luqueam @bloopsstuff @horisdope @alwaysfreakingout @crammingqueen @rideofthevalkyriess @lavender-hvze @gojocock @ceni707 @jxvajxy @catobsessedlady @madaqueue @bbyxxm @gojostit @nixie-19 @cheezitcracker @polarbvnny @cactisjuice @sleepyyammy @lysaray @k4tsukiis @kortanasworld @megumisthirdog @slut-4-gojo @drakenswifeyy @njoxuzi @elernity @jujutsubaby @secretmoneybearvoid @bunny-lily @strawberrygirl0 @httpxxg @bsdicinindirdim @v4mpieres @nanamis-baker @therealestpussyeater @air3922 @13-09-01 @marija4674 @whereflowerswenttodie @geniejunn @bakuhoethotski @ricaliscious @77uchiha77 @hellowoolf @tobaccosunbxrst @possumwho @nvrgojover @kittygrimm88 @samistars @shiin-ye @billiondollarworth @mmeerraa @fjorjestertealeaf @reinam00n @semra4 @st4ryki @new-weather47 @coltsgf @meownuuuu @strawnanamilk @lees-chaotic-brain @ironhottubstranger @spindyl @aise-30 @dunghirse @r0ckst4rjk @44ina @4y3sh4 @lindyloomoo @sweetpo1son @levisfavoriteteashop @delfiiii @fushitoru @gojosimp26 @beabadobeee @astrokenny @horisdope @muchlov3ashley @geniejunn @the-dark-creature @gojonegs @ritzes28 @mo0nforme @drownedpoetss

hope yalls fries never get soggy ever 💕

[norris-lando]

it's time to go / social media au

max verstappen x singer!reader

summary: in which rumors spread about max cheating on you but thankfully, there's a knight in a shining red armor waiting for you

faceclaim: sabrina carpenter

author's note: this is my first time doing a social media au, so please go easy on me 😭 nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoy! also, i'm going to doing more parts to this :)

part 1 · part 2

—

f1updates: Max Verstappen and singer-songwriter Y/N Y/L/N have called it quits after almost 2 years of dating. Sources close to the couple have commented the breakup saying, 'apparently there was some sort of infidelity involved.' The couple have yet to confirm these rumours, but what do you guys think? Check the link in our bio for more information regarding the situation.

liked by user12, user13, user14 and 586 others

user1: noooo mom and dad 😭

user2: i'm denial, ain't no way one of them cheated wtf

user3: say sike right now ☺️

user4: it's okay guys mom and dad are just being silly 🥰🥰🥰 it's fine 🥰🥰

user5: i mean if the cheating thing is true, i'm sure we all know who cheated on who

—load more comments—

y/n.insta: how long will it be cute, all this crying in my room 🎼

liked by charles_leclerc, user6, user7 and 321 278 others

user1: mother noooo 😭

user2: it's okay max ☺️ i just wanna talk ☺️🔪

user3: i didn't wanna believe it but looks like the streets were right this time 😪

user4: i'm so lost, what happened??

user3: apparently m*x cheated on y/n

user4: wtf nooo they were my endgame 😭

user5: charles what are you doing here

user3: lmaoo chill they're friends

user6: it's okay bby i can go vroom vroom in circles too and i promise i won't cheat

— load more comments —

y/n.insta: they say write about what you know so i wrote about heartbreak. it's time to go out now on all streaming platforms!

btw, had a BLAST in LA this last weekend. thank you so much for all the support, i love you guys 💖 next stop ➡️ miami

liked by charles_leclerc, user16, user17 and 987 532 others

user1: can't wait to see you in miami!! ♥️

user3: 15 years 😭 15 million tears 😭 begging till my knees bled 😭 i gave it my all 😭 he gave me nothing 😭 at 😭 all 😭 tHEN WONDERED WHY I LEFT 😭

user2: @/maxverstappen1 been awfully quiet since the queen dropped it's time to go 🤔

user1: not the tag lmaoooo 🤣

user6: okay can we pls talk about the fact that cHARLES is back in y/n's likes???

user5: i admire to be this delulu

user8: still feels so weird not the see max in the likes and comments

user11: i know right?? we get it, it was a good joke hahaha i'm laughing now pls can we stop this

user9: i think you dropped this 👑

— load more comments —

maxverstappen1: Simply... Lovely. What a great weekend again 🏆 Miami, thank you!

liked by redbullracing, user18 and 886 379 others

user19: it's time to go to apologize to y/n now ☺️🔪

user5: so proud of you, great job again!!

user17: imagine being in miami at the same time as the girl you CHEATED ON

user2: facts, i feel so bad for y/n cause i remember seeing a video of her saying she scheduled a show in miami at the same as the gp so her and max could spend some time together

user3: lmao at least Charles had a fun night at y/n's concert last night

user17: what?? how do you know that???

user3: he posted on instagram last night that he was there!!

— load more comments —

charles_leclerc: Good day yesterday, on and off track. Thank you, Miami! And special thank you to @/yn.insta for having me at the show ♥️ It was phenomenal and can't wait to see you again soon.

liked by @/yn.insta, carlossainz55, user13 and 687 931 others

yn.insta: Thank you so much for coming! I'm glad you had a good time ♥️ Can't wait to see you soon!

user6: the red hearts!!! and y'all called me delulu

user8: okay but the hearts don't necessarily mean anything?? i mean y/n just got out of a relationship

— load more comments —

[saltwaterburns]

Hi, hello. Could I request an Anthony Lockwood x reader fic, maybe with the reader comforting Lockwood after a near death experience during a case/when stress becomes too much/after a nightmare (your choice, truly)

Thank you so much in advance! I love your writing and I look forward to reading what you make of this request (no pressure though!!)

je sais pas m'oublier

summary: you comfort lockwood after a mission almost gone wrong and somehow end up tangled together with him in the library

warnings: lockwood gets injured and they don't kiss 😕

pairing: anthony lockwood x gn!reader

a/n: AAAAAA MY FIRST EVER FIC THATS A REQUEST. This is very nerve wrecking btw I don't want to disappoint anyone. If it's bad it's cause of nerves. I love you guys sm, all of your notifications make my day. And!!! When requesting I'd loveloveLOVE if you'd specify the readers gender! I tried to make this gn but it might tilt towards fem reader ;(

And to this lovely anon, i adore you endlessly!!! 🩷

It was supposed to be a simple case. Get there, find the source, capture it, get out. It really didn't seem like something to make a big deal out of. Yet here you were, desperately digging the ground for multiple sources alongside George while Lucy and Lockwood are trying to fight off the wailing type twos surrounding your lot.

"I've never wanted Kipps and his crew to show up more than right now." You laugh, a hint of worry sprinkled upon it. George snorts and you grin at the sound, your hands steadily guiding the shovel that's digging the ground, not a spot on your body left that appears clean. You feel small droplets of rain start to drop down and the waters of panic lap at your feet, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The possibility of you not making it out in one piece tonight just became very real. If the rain continues, you won't be able to see the ghosts well enough to fight them off.

As if on cue, your shovel hits something wet, hard and slippery. Bones. You shout for George and leave him to deal with the sources, hauling yourself up the muddy hole to go and help your friends.

Your gaze settles on Lockwood. He seems to be doing fine at first glaze, but as you look closer, you see that he's limping. Why on Earth would he be limping? You dont have enough time to wallow on that because he falls, his rapier flying just a few inches too far for him to grasp.

You shout for him and without thinking, grab a magnesium flare off your belt, throwing it somewhere in the direction of the ghost. The explosion would've knocked you off your feet but your mind is locked on him, his lanky frame, that now on the ground looks small, fragile even.

"Lockwood, Locky are you alright?" You ask, dropping down on to your knees next to him, gently cradling his face in your hands. He groggily opens his eyes and you practically sob, pulling him close to you. His brown curls tickle your face but you only hold him tighter, smiling to yourself as you feel his arms slowly making their way around you.

"Fucks sake, you scared me. Scared me so bad. Why were you limping? You could have been ghost touched." You murmur, pressing a kiss to his head after every word. You don't give him time to answer before pulling away, cupping his cheeks and resting your forehead against his. His eyes flutter shut, dark lashes brushing against pale cheeks. How does he always manage to look so breathtaking?

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I messed up a manoeuvre and slipped on the grass, it was rather stupid of me." He apologises, but you only hold him tighter.

George finishes up securing the sources with Lucy and all five of you start the journey back to Portland Row, soaking wet and covered in mud, awaiting the box of Arif's donuts that are sitting on the kitchen table.

You exit the steaming bathroom, a pink towel wrapped around your upper body, soaking wet hair leaving a path of tiny droplets all the way to your and Lucy's room. The ginger girl is fast asleep under the mountain of covers, soft snores emitting from her. You turn off her bedside lamp, darkness swallowing the room. You're used to the darkness, the way it disables all your senses at first. You pay it no mind and slip into a grey 'The Rolling Stones' t-shirt, rough drying your hair with the towel before disregarding it somewhere.

You don't go straight to bed. Something is crippling inside you, chewing on your heart. You leave your room and walk downstairs, stopping in front of the library door. Light is bleeding through the cracks all around the door, and you instantly know who's awake in there at this hour. It's him, always him.

You knock on the door a few times and twist the door knob, stepping into the dimly lit room. Lockwood is sitting there; his hair damp, his sleep shirt a little soaked as well. He has a book in his lap and it looks like he's trying to read but something is bothering him.

"Hey, you. I wanted to check up on you. Are you okay?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He sighs softly and closes the book, putting it away before patting on the spot next to him, signalling for you to come and sit. You do exactly that and sit down next to him, looking a little worried.

He's warm. You can feel the heat emitting from him, his body. Its heating up your cheeks, tinting them pink.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright. Just shaken I suppose. Felt like I was looking death himself right in the eye for a second there." He chuckles, but there isn't any amusement laced in it. You don't reply to him, you just take his hand in yours and lace your fingers together.

Nothing else is said throughout the night. When George finds you two in the morning, he's laying on top of you, his head on your chest and his arms around your waist. You're holding him close to you, your grip unrelenting.

Part two, yes no maybe?!?! I hope you guys enjoyed 😁Feedback is always more than appreciated !!

[captain-mj]

I bring you the bones of my friends that are uneducated on lgbtq+ matters for

PrinceGraves x leader of Royal guard Price

Graves is ruling temporarily while the King is away on diplomatic matters and he drives the court insane. He's cocky, talks over advisors and thinks he can doe everything better.

After 3 days Price is so fed up with the spoiled Prince so he fucks him on the throne and tell him to behave.

Here ya go!! Btw, in case it's not explicit enough, Graves is very capable, he was just playing Price to get a reaction. It's not really paid much attention, we all know why we're here

Price watched the Prince speak and tried not to chew his own sword.

The worst part was Graves had good points occasionally, but he didn't listen and he always questioned everything. He didn't trust any of them and made that clear.

Price bit his tongue as Graves once again questioned one of the King's most trusted advisor.

"How are you sure of this? Where are your sources?" Graves looked right at Price as he spoke, a small grin on his face. He had asked that four times. In this meeting.

"Are you sure we should do that? I heard that those are flimsy..."

Price got up and left, going to the throne room. God that little brat pissed him off. As the leader of the royal guard, he knew he needed to keep on good terms with him. One day, Graves could be his boss.

God, he hoped not.

Price took off his helmet and ran his hands through his hair. Didn't help that he was so hot. Walking around barely dressed most of the time. Wearing sheer clothing and letting everyone just drool over him. When his father was here, he never acted like this!! What was his deal?

"John." Graves interrupted his thoughts. He only had some loose pants and his crown on. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, your majesty." Price glared at him but Graves did not seem moved.

After a few minutes, Graves tilted his head. "You know, it's polite to ask someone how they're doing back. I know you're a Captain, but that's not an excuse for bad manners."

Price gritted his teeth before drawing his sword and put it to his throat. He didn't have words. Three fucking days of this.

Graves blushed and looked up at him. "John. Remember your place. Kill me and the King will have your head. Relationship or not."

Price got closer. "I wouldn't kill you, Graves."

Graves looked intrigued. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Make you shut up." Price threw the sword to the side and grabbed him, placing him on his back on the throne. He pulled down his pants.

"Wait! The doors!!"

"Let them walk in." Price snapped at him. "Maybe it'll teach you manners. Get too loud and someone will come in."

Graves blushed and looked away, grabbing the throne. "Fine. I give you permission."

Price shoved Graves's knees to his chest and shoved a finger into his hole roughly. He spit onto his finger and shoved it in deeper. Graves started to thrash and eventually tapped him insistently. "Wait, there's oil. Please you're being too rough with me!"

Price grumbled, but he did it. He wanted to hurt the Prince but... not that bad. Tearing him seemed excessive.

Now that he had the oil, he forced his fingers back in, watching Graves tense to try to stop himself from moving. He groaned as Price slid a second one in, making him pant softly as he tried to keep quiet.

"Can't get through one meeting without you complaining about how long its taking or how many people are there or how you want to be doing anything else." He thrust his fingers in hard over and over again, needing him well stretched.

Graves whimpered and twisted, clearly not used to such rough treatment. "What else?"

Price frowned and got a third one in, groaning at how tight the fit was. "What else what?"

"What else do I do wrong?" He pushed back against him, biting his lip. His face twisted in pleasure and pain.

"You keep questioning me! I'm the Captain of the Royal Guard for a reason! You're such a royal brat." Price forced another finger in him and Graves's back arched.

"I'm sorry, sir." Graves panted out, putting his hands under his knees so Price didn't have to keep holding him. He threw his head back and rocked against him desperately. "So good, please."

"Shut up." Price forced his fingers in deeper. "So tight. So fucking tight. Shit."

Graves closed his eyes and looked away. Once Price was sure he was open enough, he picked Graves up. He then put him on the floor and sat in the throne himself, the great crowned prince looking up at him from his knees.

Price buried his hand in Graves's hair and pulled him to his cock, watching Graves's eyes widen. He tilted his head before running his tongues along one of the veins, grinning when Price groaned.

"Good boy. Finally putting that mouth of yours to good use."

Graves went to retort and Price yanked him down on his cock, making him gag. He held him there for a moment, feeling his cock convulse around him for a moment before letting go so Graves could pull back. He took a deep breath and then immediately went back down on him, swallowing. Price groaned and relaxed, letting Graves work on him.

"You seem happier on your knees. Like you wanted me to do this."

Graves looked up at him through his lashes, swallowing hard.

"You fucking brat." Price yanked him closer, making his eyes fill with tears. He swallowed and used his tongue, clearly trying to please him. "You're not going to be able to walk until the fucking King comes back."

Graves hummed in response and bobbed his head enthusiastically. Price pulled him off and he made a wounded noise.

"Yeah, Yeah. Get up here."

Graves did as told, grabbing Price's shoulders as he picked him up. He slid him down on his cock and enjoyed the little whimpers it got. One of his hands fit around Graves's throat and the other around his waist. He thrust up into Graves, watching his eyes roll back.

Price enjoyed him like a toy. Graves scrambled for a hold as he was slammed into mercilessly, hiding his face out of shame.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

Price turned him around so he couldn't, hands going under his knees to keep his legs spread apart. If anyone came in, they'd see Graves's face and the way his body took Price like a whore.

"Sir, please."

"Your voice is pretty when you're begging." He moved Graves instead of himself, making him bounce up and down. The new angle must've felt nice because he was a mess in Price's arms, tears streaming down his face.

Graves twisted his head to kiss his cheek. "So mean to me."

Price growled. "You like it."

Graves blushed and shuddered. "I like when you growl."

Price yanked him closer and kissed him, hammering into him now. Graves grasped him as hard as he could and Price could feel his legs shaking.

"Don't finish until I do."

"You fucking bastard." Graves huffed. "Hard to do that when you're fucking me like this."

"Try harder." Price smiled and forced his legs further apart.

Graves held on to him, painfully hard. He was clearly trying his hardest though and Price could appreciate that.

Price reached around and stroked him, feeling him tremble. "No, please, I won't last." He kept stroking Graves anyway.

Graves did not last. He came all over himself with a groan and his head fell back. He panted softly as Price fucked him through it. Price came in him and patted his thigh.

Slowly, he pulled out of him and set his Prince on the throne. "You look gorgeous." He didn't fix his pants, but he did fix his crown, looking at the cum running down his legs. "Act right in the next couple of meetings and I'll do this again."

"Don't you mean don't do this again?"

"Darling, we both know you wanted this."

Graves bit his lip. "Alright, yes sir."

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/silvantransthranduiltrash/752978436591583232/ok-bc-ariagreenleaf-inspired-me-over-on-the?source=share

Part 2:

we left off at Thranduil and Miriel's childhood. both of them show an exceptional prowes to magic and strength, it's obvious to see for anyone that know what to look for that they aren't normal elves. but bc they are not only the first elflings to have ever been born (as opposed to awakening at the lake) but also the first elf/ainur combo, no one really knows what tf is going on at any given time, and they all just write it off as just smth elflings do.

also, i hc that, in this au, most of oropher's ainur power was cut off by Mairon and Melkor when Oropher betrayed them, so while he is still tecknically an ainur, he doesn't have near the power of one, and comes across as a particluarly strong and magically gifted elf.

n e way, one day teen-Thranduil is off on his own, and he comes across a Dragon (capital letter needed), and not the weird corrupt knock offs that Melkor created, no a proper Dragon. Dragons are someone of a mix between an ainur and an elf, power wise. Eru created them as a sort of unpredictable variable that'll keep ME from going to far into the dirt. most ainur don't like Dragons bc the ainur have no influence over them. furthermore, Dragons are arguable the most prideful creatures in all of arda, so they won't listen to anyone or anything (Eru created them specifically with the idea of being overwhelmingly prideful for the sole purpose of "no one can get them to bend a knee, not even a vala"). also, they can shape shift.

did i forget to mention Thranduil is trans in this au (like my other au?) yes? well, now you know!

anyway, Thranduil and the Dragon, Ingen, meet and they weirdly hit it off? instance sexual attraction, iykwim. the relationship is kind weird, bc it's also a bit of enemies/rivals to lovers, but they still aren't lovers, they just weirdly respect each other and find each other attractive, but by god does Ingen piss Thranduil off on a good day. interesting relationship.

and so, Thranduil falls pregnant with Ingwe and Lasgen (he's 38 btw, so about 16-ish in elven years. between there having never been any elflings before him and Miriel, thus there being nothing to compare them too, and the elves having no real understanding of when one becomes an adult or how age works, and with Thranduil and Miriel being half ainur, everything's a little up in the air and confusing)

Oropher and Cloudryad are like "jfc" but also, they can't judge bc they didn't know what they were doing either, the twin's conception is a result of hate-fucking, and Cloudryad was technically only 10 yo when she had the twins bc, while she spawned at the lake fully grown, she's only been alive for 10 years. like i said, confusing times.

Miriel is extatic at being an aunty (though she is somewhat pissed at ingen for taking advantage of her brother (i need to clarify that the Ingwen-thranduil relationship was consensual on both fronts, minus the whole age thing).

so, Ingwe and Lasgen are born and they are definitely their parent's kids alright, even though Ingen barely ever shows himself. thranduil is pretty much a single parent, and that's how he likes it.

and of course, Miriel and Thranduil also get stuck with babysitting duty for Cloudryad's sister Elya, and her friend Mori, mothers of Elwe, olwe, and finwe respectivly. the twins don't really have a problem with it, tbh, but it does mean that the -we's all get semi-raised by half ainur/half elves, with the benefit of having part ainu/part elf/part dragon playmates. needless to say, shit gets weird, and they certainly have an unconventional/chaotic childhood that makes them significantly stronger than most of their elven peers.

and of course, Melkor and Mairon hear about their greatgrandbbies, and there's an uptick of attacks on the family bc GREATGRANDBBIES. they also try to hunt down Ingen bc HOW DARE HE-. once again, i don't know if M&M are trying to get to Ingwe and Lasgen bc they want their ggb or bc they want to kill them.

end of part 2

now onto part 3

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

I am full of barely repressed rage.

Guess where these are from?!

New chick Dave's cheating with... is blackmailing him. His dumb ass turned to a stranger he met on Facebook and began telling her all about his personal life. He told her about Bethy(his 16 y/o daughter), D(his son), B(Dustin's wife), and O and E(D's babies). She knows so much about his personal shit, she can actually blackmail him with threats of sending all this info to unsavory sources, and he's been sending her these gift cards for weeks. There are over a dozen more, and over $1,000 he's sent in just a couple months.

He decided to bring his concerns to Bethy cuz this bitch is demanding more and more money in the form of these gift cards. Bethy told him he's being blackmailed and need to tell the police, and while he was a bit distracted, she scrolled a bit higher in his texts to see what's going on. Today, she came to mom because she's finally sick of being the one Dave dumps all his shit onto. She had a thick ass stack of these gift cards and receipts from Walgreens and revealed what she'd read in his texts.

Dave's scared of going to jail because he told some stranger about all his poor decision making and she's telling him she'll go to the cops with a whole list of things to explain why he's a bad parent and why his daughter should be taken away from him. That she'll expose his grandchildren to bad people(like this is morally righteous behavior?) So, he's taking money he gets from his boss and paying this chick off.

AND HE'S DONE THIS BEFORE! IT ISN'T NEW!

If anyone recalls 2022. Dave did not work a day in 2022. In August of 2021 he sustained a terrible knee injury at work and instead of taking the blame, they fired him. Only to find out they let him go without officially firing him for months and tried to collect taxes from him up until December of 2021. He had to dispute that shit with proof and was finally officially fired sometime in January of 2022.

He did not work because his knee was just so bad, for the entirety of 2022. My Ko-Fi and the GFM kept us going between motels the entire time if we weren't in the van. In February of 2023, a friend of his called him to ask where he was. "Hey, man, [so-so] is looking for you. He needs help in his shop, and he thought of you first."

And so Dave went back to work finally, after claiming for 16 months that he couldn't because of his knee. In all of 2022, Dave was cheating with 2 different women, and a potential third. 1 at the Salvation Army he claimed he was working at(he wasn't btw, she was just giving him money cuz she felt bad for him) and the other was some chick on Facebook. He was doing shit in front of Bethy and she narked on him because he was getting money from one chick and then giving it to the other. And he was forcing Bethy to help him get money orders and shit at Walmart with said money cuz his ass is so useless he can't fucking read.

So, we've had to deal with this before, WHILE HOMELESS. And he's doing it again. Except this time, it's worse!

Here we are, struggling to get by, dealing with the fact that we have 14 days left in this house and no guarantee of necessary internet or heat in the dilapidate place he's supposedly gotten us now. And here Dave is telling other people's personal business to some chick he's cheating with. Endangering his kids and grandkids. While also treating Bethy terribly because she needs him to be a parent and take her to school and to the doctor and to other shit.

Mom had to call his son and warn him ahead of time in case something happens. Bethy locked herself in her room because she didn't want him to take his anger out on her when the ball drops.

And the moment mom even mentioned how she had no money for the rest of the bills, nor the money to switch everything over to a new place, and he complained about how HE doesn't have money for anything either, she pulled the, 'oh really? we need to talk about that' on him and he backed out of the room instantly, using the fact that she's disabled and can't pursue to get out of the conversation.

Also, his son called mom back and revealed that Dave's been begging him for money for days! He wanted $300 last night. So, he's gonna probably call again and give Dave an earful.

[kagrenacs]

Hey Kayd! Long time mutual, but I'm on anon because I don't want to publicly state where I live. But I'm from the Central Valley in California, which is known for two things as far as our dirt goes. 1, we are one of the biggest agricultural producers in the country, and 2, there's lots and lots of hardpan. Which seems like facts that conflict, at least to me and my minimal dirt knowledge. Like, we have so much hardpan than the Forestiere Underground Gardens is an entire subterranean complex that's up to 7m deep that's entirely carved out of hardpan (so the hardpan can run at least that deep). The Underground Gardens are a really interesting place btw. It's incredibly fucking hot here in the summer, but it's a nice temperature down there all year long. Forestiere spent 40 years carving the thing out. I've had to do some digging in hardpan in my time and I never had to get more than knee-deep and it was such a pain in the ass.

Anyway, I thought you might think it was interesting. I think visiting the Gardens when I was young left an impression on me, because every time I make a base in Minecraft, I end up mining my base out of the ground or a mountain, instead of building a house or whatever. I've kind of always wanted to live underground, probably because it's so fucking hot here.

Fun fact, the official flag of Fresno (the city I'm from) is leaf green, sky blue, and dirt brown to represent the agricultural industry. It's absolutely hideous, and every time I see the flag, my first thought is "our dirt is *not* that color". Our dirt is beige.

That's gorgeous, thank you for sharing :0 definitely on my list of places to visit sometime!

Hardpan can go quite deep before hitting the subsoil. A few meters most sources seem to say, and as seen in the picture above. I'm also in an area with quite a bit of hardpan scattered between really fertile soil (we tend to classify hardpan as "Solonetzic Soils"). I'm not very well versed in soil chemistry, but I think it results from what parent material the soil forms over. Specifically if it's high in sodium. Sodium binds to clay minerals, attracts a sheath of water which mobilizes the soil and deposits it further down, creating a hardpan!

But soil infodumping aside, that's also super cute you replicated that in minecraft. I once read a book with an infinite brick library that I'd always recreate when I played. Little moments like those can create such an impact in different ways. <3

[magemultifics]

Away with the Wind - Henry/F!Robin (FE:A)

A/N: I moved this from my Ao3 here, my Robyn was named Veryn btw. wrote this in 2020 holy fuck

 He could only watch.

        He could only watch as life itself fractured into the cracks of a shattered mirror. He could only watch as the reflection of his happiness, his joy, his love be gone with the wind. It brought him little comfort to hear that her last thoughts were of him and of their creation. To know that this goodbye, that this farewell in all its theatrics was indeed no show, not a stage where the audience was reminded that it was all an act, that roses were thrown on the stage to the appreciation of the still alive actors. No this is real, and that fact alone didn't quite hit Henry until the fading whispered words of I love you were the last thing to leave the hallowed ground that his salvation, Veryn stood upon seconds prior. What was left the tactician fell off her now-gone physical form and pooled on the ground. The "pool" turned out to be her thick trusty Grimleal Robe, the one she couldn't be seen without on every encounter of her journey with the Shepherds. Henry broke out of his grief-struck stupor and walked slowly to the article of clothing, each step taken felt like a massive feat of strength like he was being weighed down by the knees. He felt the gaze of the Shepherds burning into his back, each watching his every move, none dared to speak with the exit of the sorcerer's now late wife. A shock ran through Henry when his fingertips grazed a particular stain on the robe,  and colors started to flash behind his eyes.

"Hey Henry, I need some help re-arranging some of my to- what are you doing on the floor are you alright?" Henry perked up at the voice in his tent. He was currently working on dissecting a risen arm he had grabbed from the battlefield.  He decided to turn around and face the source of the question with his trademark grin"What's up boss?  Need me to lend a hand?" Henry thought he was quite clever when he'd pulled up his macabre-esque project for the punchline. The tactician or rather the lady in the fluffy grimleal cloak and chestnut hair looked spooked for a moment before she raised up a hand and chuckled softly at it . "I'll have to admit that one was pretty good, but I might have some more puns ready later to disarm this one with" she had said with a wink (the counter pun had succeeded in making Henry smile)   before correcting herself  "Oh, also the name is Veryn, you needn't call me anything else, but that. Besides that point I came to ask if you'd come help me organize the wind magic tomes, they got messed with when we had to pack up and march to Carrion Isle" . Henry really hadn't anything better to do so he'd attempted to get up when he'd tripped  over a fold in the tent floor, sending the opened up Risen arm at Veryn who could do nothing but attempt to shield herself from the horrid projectile. Henry had looked up and saw that she was splattered with the purple sludge that was risen blood and opened his mouth "My bad Veryn, guess that wasn't very HANDY of me." . He had not expected the tactician to actually crack up at his joke until he heard the snort and chortle of suppressed laughter before she offered her hand to him "I think I'm going to like you Henry."

The memory had faded, Henry felt a hand rest upon his shoulder. He almost lashed out with a burst of ruin, but stopped himself when he'd seen that it was his son and behind him was Lucina. The sight of how disheveled Morgan looked made Henry's heart tighten in his chest, his silvery hair windswept and his pale cheeks streaked with tears. Henry gripped the robe in his hand and wrapped his son in a tight embrace, the robe-free hand intertwined with locks of Morgan's inherited hair. Henry felt his son shudder before he'd felt him rest his head on his shoulder, tears spilling onto his cloak. Henry looked up at the shades of twilight now swallowing the sky and felt a warm rush of wind around the side of his head. It felt as if a hand was guiding his face to look at the setting of the sun, when in that moment he could almost hear the words that whispered in the wind.

"Dry your tears love, this isn't goodbye I'll return again, take care of our son and yourself I love you " 

Henry looked to his son and broke away from their embrace, but kept a light hand on his shoulder and the other wiped the fresh tears gliding down his sons' face. "Do not cry Morgan, for your mother is like gravity, she'll be away for a while, but in the end she always comes back, always. What goes up always come down right?" Henry had then taken his hands to either side of his own mouth and pulled them up into a smile "She wouldn't want to see us so down so let us smile for her like this Nya-ha!" Henry, despite smiling, felt hot trails of tears surge down his face. Morgan, in his tearful state, had brightened in the slightest and laughed, shaking his head at his father's antics, but nonetheless grateful for the optimism. Henry knew he had succeeded when a shaky smile bloomed on Morgan's face. "Atta boy Morgan, let us go home."

[milazka]

not the greatest feeling ever | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: fuck it, i’m not doing a summary, i’m so bad at it. oh! there’s smut btw.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of blood, underrage drinking

last thought: i’m proud of this one, took me a lot of time to write, but i think it was worth it! enjoy your reading! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The gentle breeze twirls her golden locks in all directions. She hums the lyrics of You never can tell, having watched Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time last night. Her irises are fixed to the slightly damp roadside covered with fresh fallen leaves from this morning rainstorm. The last rays of sunlight caress her baby-like skin as they disappear into the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of orange and rose. 

“C’mon grandpa, you’re slow as hell!” she teases Marcus, turning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. Standing on his skateboard, he sends her the finger, scraping the pavement with his over-used black vans to gain speed and eventually catch up with her. 

“That’s how the turtle won the race, dumbass,” he gently nudges her shoulder with his hand as he rides his board besides her. She gives a sharp turn of the handlebars to move her tires out of the sand and back on the pavement, giving him a death glare. 

“I almost fell in the ditch, shithead!” he simply laughs, his head falling backward. His dark colored hairs, normally slicked back, are ruffled by the warm September wind, giving him a laid back look that fits him perfectly. She adores hearing his laugh; it's one of the purest and most delightful sounds. It was only recently that she heard him laugh again, having not heard it for months after the day they lost the third musketeer of their trio. It was one of the hardest moments of their lives, but sharing this kind of experience brought them closer than ever. Charlie was there for him when he hit rock bottom, stroking his back while he cried on the shower floor, freezing water running down their damped bodies. She was also by his side the first time he went to therapy, soothingly squeezing his hand before he entered the office.

“If someone had to fall in a ditch, it would be me.”

“You know that Max and I made bet on how long it would take you to fall in a ditch?” she replies, checking his reaction at the corner of her cerulean eyes. He grins. 

“How much did you bet?” he curiously asks, one eyebrow arched. 

“Fifty bucks,” his eyes almost snap out of their sockets. He stops, stepping off his board.

“Fifty bucks?! That’s insulting, thought I was worth more than that,” he shouts as she makes a u-turn, retracing her steps, stopping in front of him.

“I’ll give you half of it if you wait ‘till June,” Charlie sarcastically says to him, elbows leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle. He caught a glimpse of light in her gaze; a twinkle of amusement he always finds in the corners of her softly crinkled eyes when she smiles truthfully.

“Deal,” he winks at her, drawing a small laugh from her slightly parted lips. He picks up Charlie's polaroid from the basket at the front of her bike, signaling for her to ride so he can immortalize the moment for her. Marcus knows she keeps those famous polaroids in an old converse box as a source of happiness; they're memories of moments she doesn't want to forget. 

He takes the little camera to his eyes, snapping a picture when Charlie turns her head to the side to look at him, smiling like there is no tomorrow. As the picture is slowly developing, he hears a squeal of tires and a squeal of surprise from the distance. 

“Fuck Charlie!” he shouts, running towards her as she sits, holding firmly her right forearm. His heart tightens at the sight of her painful face, her traits are torn by pain and he can see tears gathering at the corner of her squinted blue eyes. Marcus hates to see her in pain; he knows she's not the type to complain about anything so when he sees her azure eyes filling with water, he knows it's serious. 

“You got a few scratches,” he whispers, running his eyes over her legs and arms. “We’ll go to your house and clean you up, okay?” she nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Marcus tucks his skateboard under his arm, grabbing the handlebars and seat of Charlie's bike simultaneously.

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Hold still,” his hazel eyes are focused on the mid-depth cut on her forearm. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, giving him a severe, almost cold sober look. She takes a big gulp of the rich whiskey she borrowed from her father's secret stash. 

“Oh fucking hell!” she swears between her clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol makes contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm. “That’s not the greatest feeling ever,” she whimpers, her forehead resting on his shoulder covered by his green olive shirt. 

“I know, angel, I know,” he runs his hand through her blonde hair, gently stroking her scalp in a soothing way. She keeps her head resting against his shoulder, holding back the tears that threaten to run down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m usually the one taking care of you,” he knows it refers as much to all the times he fell off his skateboard as it does to when he hit rock bottom when their friend passed away. Charlie isn't used to being taken care of; she has always been able to look after herself without anyone's help.

Crying is for the weak.

She swallows her tears, putting her mask back on with a slight smile.

“Your new neighbor saw me fall,” she changes the subject, pausing to take another gulp directly from the whisky bottle. “Great way to make a first impression,” a light laugh escapes from her lips, but she halts when she notices his gaze turning away almost discreetly. “What’s wrong?” 

Over the years, she has learned to read him like the palm of her hand; she knows he looks away to the left when he is hiding something from her and that he scrapes the back of his neck when he is embarrassed.

“I-I had sex with her,” he blurts out, avoiding her gaze while he still applies pressure on the bandage covering the wound on her forearm. 

“Holy shit,” her eyes widened, not expecting this kind of disclosure. “Wait, what about Padma?” 

“You know she is not my girlfriend, Charlz,” he sighs, finally sustaining her non-judgmental azure irises. It' s one of the things he likes about her; she never judges him and even if she did, he wouldn't know since she hides it so well. 

“Was it good?” she does not insist about Padma, knowing perfectly well that she is the first one to know. He doesn't answer, looking thoughtful as if a million thoughts are running through his head. He steals the bottle of alcohol from her, gulping down a few ounces of the throat-burning liquid.

“What aren’t you telling me, Marcus?” 

He shuts his eyes, exhaling loudly.

“I don’t know if I was good… God, I don’t even know if she came!” her heart tightens; he looks distraught and she knows that this is a big deal to him, after all, he just lost his virginity. He breathes heavily, his jaw as tightly clenched as his fists.

“Show me.” 

“What?!” he opens one eye, eyebrows furrowed as if he was questioning if she was being serious.

“Show me what you did, I’ll tell you if it’s good,” 

“You’re drunk, Charlz…I don-” he stops as soon as her silver rings coated hands grip the hem of his olive shirt, grazing the soft skin of his lower abdomen with her fingertips. Sitting on her knees, she brings her head up to his neck, pressing her lips against the skin. The feeling of her wet lips on his burning skin sends a shiver running through his spine. 

“I’m sober enough to remember everything and give you my consent,” she whispers to his ear and he almost moans when she slightly nibbles his lobe. Her hands slips to the back of his neck, forcing him to hover over her as she lies on her back.

Both his hands are lingering on the buckle of her belt, struggling to undo it. She clutches his chin with one hand, plunging her reassuring gaze into his. He looks nervous, his hands trembling slightly when he takes off her jeans. She presses her lips to his Adam's apple, feeling him tense up at first, but relax as she sensuously slides her tongue up to his sculpted jaw.

“A-are you good with two figers?” he nervously asks, his right hand resting on the edge of her panties. 

“Yes,” he hesitantly slips his hand into her panties, parting her legs with his other hand before sliding his index and middle fingers up and down her folds.  She can see him blush when an almost quiet moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his fingers inside her core. He pumps them in and out slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

“Try to curl them in a ‘come here’ movement,” she demonstrates with her own fingers. He nods and mimics her actions, making her whimper under him. 

“That feels good,” she encourages him. “What did you do next?” she softly asks, rubbing her thumb against his cheek to sooth him. 

“Hum, well, we-um, you know, did it,” he says, blushing like a little child who just got his first kiss with the popular girl. 

“You didn’t go down on her?” she asks, looking quite shocked. He seemed clueless. “I mean, you didn’t use your mouth?” 

“Uh no, should I have?” 

“You boys really know nothing about female pleasure,” she sights. “Try watching lesbian porn next time, you will learn A LOT more,” He almost chokes, not expecting to hear this come out of his best friend's lips while his fingers are still inside her. They've always been comfortable with each other, but not to the point of talking about the kind of porn they listen to. The idea of her best friend watching porn and getting herself off almost made him cum in his pants.

“You do know what a cunniligus is, right?” 

“God, Charlz, I’m not five years old! Yes, I know what it is!” he exclaims, his ego lightly bruised by her question. 

“Well, show me then, playboy,” she challenges him, a cocky smile slipping on her lips. the alcohol going slightly to her head.

He pulls her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling at the foot of the bed between her legs. His lips kiss the skin on the inside of her thighs, sucking it until he sees a dark red mark appear. He gets rid of her underwear in the blink of an eye  before placing her legs over his shoulders. He darts his tongue out of his mouth, licking a long strip between her folds without giving her the chance to acknowledge what was going on. He stops once his tongue rests on the bundle of nerves, licking around it in a circular motion.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You really think I've never watched lesbian porn?” he teases her, biting the inside of her thigh, making her body jolt. He dives back his head to her core, sucking her clit into his mouth.

At leats he know where the clit is.

"Oh my god Marcus," she moans, squirming against his grip. He places his arm over her lower abdomen, pinning her body against the mattress. She can feel his two fingers sliding back into her core, the sudden feeling causing her hips to buck up against his face.  

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hun?” he praises her, fingers curling inside her just like she taught him. She could barely feel herself, letting out a series of high-pitched moans as Marcus tongue was working on her bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers, her head pressed down against the matress. Her fingers tangle in his dark hair, tucking at the roots as she let out a cry, the euphoric feeling taking over her body for a moment. Marcus looks up to see her eyes shut tightly, her legs shaking on his shoulders. He can feel her core pulsating around his fingers as she comes down from her high.

He took a mental picture of her, engraving this moment in his memory forever.

─── ° • ❀ ───

taglist; @cognacdelights @ellegotohell @janedartist

[cha0s-boyy]

furry art school was doing a photo drawover challenge and i decided to torture myself by picking a photo with two colored light sources. it’s one of my grad photos btw.

[ID: a photo with a furry character drawn onto it. the character is a dog wearing a suit and sitting on the edge of a dumpster, elbows on his knees. he is a black and white border collie with cyan and magenta bands on his ears, one cyan eyelid and one magenta eyelid, and the same colors alternating on his fingers. his pants are gray, his waistcoat and tie are black, and his shirt is hot pink. he is not wearing a jacket. from the left there is orange light and from the right is bluish light. there is a brick wall behind the dumpster. /end ID]

[bowieandqueen11]

Karl Heisenberg As A Dad Headcanons

Request: Would you happen to have any wholesome Dad!Heisenberg HCs? 👉🏻👈🏻 Your writing is absolutely wonderful btw! ❤️

Oh my goodness thank you so much my lovely!!! This is such a sweet request <3

If you enjoy, please comment and reblog!

(Gif credit goes to: @robotoco-fanart​, character and Resident Evil do not belong to me, all rights and credit goes to its creator)

OKAY OKAY OKAY 

softdadsoftdadsoftdadsoftsoftsoft

At first, the man literally has no idea what to do with a kid. His idea of looking after children is to just to just let them go wild so they can go live in trees or whatever.

So, when his daughter first arrives into his arms at the factory, the first thing that pops into Karl’s head is whether he can ship the poor thing off to go live with Donna and her house of dolls because he thinks a baby would cramp his style too much.

Much deeper down inside though, right down at the fragmented shards that nestled and poked at the bottom of his heart, he was also worried for the kid. He knew he couldn’t give them a proper life. Heck, he could barely look after himself with his crazy family around. How was he supposed to protect a kid from Mother Miranda?

Although everyone was sure the frown on his face when he first saw the kiddo was one of distaste, in reality he was just really sad because he believed he could never be the father this child deserved.

Then one day, he decides to take a break from experimenting on soldats down in the basement levels of his factory to go up and check on the kiddo, mainly just to make sure Donna hasn’t let her crawl out of her crib and eat any important old documents or blueprints he left lying around his bedroom’s cabinet. But when he goes into the room, peering down with those falling glasses on the bridge of his nose into the little cot by the corner window, he finds himself scared.

For the first time in his life, something pains through his chest. But this time it isn’t horror, or arrogance, or repugnance, or fear anger hatred loneliness - no, this thing was warm, running jolts around his stomach until he felt almost queasy with the power of it.

Love. What he felt, for the first time in his life, was love. His little kiddo looked up at him with these big, kind puppy eyes - the same colour as his, and reached up to wrap her little pudgy fingers around his coarse, shaking thumb that leant on the wood.

And boom, that was it. Game over for vengeful Heisenberg. Cue protective dad mode.

(Although he was a little less certain when the little trickster grabbed his sunglasses from off his face, but that’s okay. He can make a new pair of those any time. But her, she was irreplaceable in his heart.)

Okay, but can you just imagine Karl holding his little daughter in like a little knitted blanket, coddled up against his ragged chest as he rocks her with tears in his eyes omg???

As kiddo grows up, there’s a protective ring of Lycans standing guard around the outskirts of the factory’s fields at all times, 24/7. No one from the village is allowed in or out under any business, which is where the rumour of the Lords being like vampires or werewolves begins (although sometimes Karl will pop down into the town and spend some time spreading rumours at the inn just because he likes to see people’s faces when they realise he is THE werewolf Heisenberg their family have told them never to go near.)

Kiddo isn’t allowed to go out anywhere near the village either unless Karl comes with her. When she’s young, he’ll have massive coats on the two of them so they don’t freeze in the snow that dusts the rocky ground with its tendrils, carrying kiddo on his hip. If she’s a bit older, he has an arm tight around her shoulder so she’s tucked just inside the edge of his trench coat, and he growls at any person that dares to look at her for longer than two seconds.

He spends a long time trying to make her first word dad - he sees it as like a source of pride that it should be. Sometimes he’ll sit her down on a workbench and just stare down at her all seriously, until his mouth drops open and he pulls a silly face to make her laugh. Then, when he works, he keeps on just repeating ‘dadda’ or ‘come on kiddo, you can say it’ but ends up being so annoyed when her first word is her trying to say Angie lmao.

For like a week he disappears, and Donna becomes worried about what he’s doing, and why there’s no noise or sound from him except smoky tendrils of steam and licks of fire bellowing out from the belly of the factory every so often. Turns out, as he sneaks in to kiss his daughter on the forehead one late night while she’s sleeping, and takes a moment to hang it over her cot, he was making a little mobile of two wolves chasing the sun and moon.

Since our man ‘works from home’, when kiddo gets to become a bit older he invites her down to learn the tricks of the trade with him. Mostly this just involves her sitting on a stool down in his office room with a bored looking face as he wildly and animatedly throws shards of metal into the pictures of Alcina and Miranda, explaining why she should never go near them.

In the end they’re both kind of knackered, so by the time lunch rolls through they’ve both laid down on a bench and fallen asleep on each other’s shoulders.

Although he’s not the best at showing affection, he is trying, he really is. This usually comes through as him reading bedtime stories to his kiddo, lying down on the duvet next to her and nearly shoving the poor child out of the bed. He totally gets coerced into doing silly voices for all the characters, and although he pretends to groan and roll his eyes he gets way too into it.

Usually, though, he’s the one to fall asleep first. Kiddo usually wakes up to find her dad still asleep against the headboard, with the book collapsed on the floor and Karl’s hat hanging half over his face as he snores.

When she’s younger, and Karl doesn’t want to go to family meetings, he’ll dress her up in his long coat and hat that hangs over her eyes and sends her off, laughing his ass off the whole while at the way the frayed fabric ends trail across the floor as she tries to walk.

He says Alcina is so tall anyway she wouldn’t notice the difference.

Most of the time he just takes her with her though, because despite how gruff and how much of a lone wolf he pretends to be he has pretty bad separation anxiety. She’ll just sit on his knee as he makes her laugh by pretending to mimic Miranda, telling everyone to shut up anytime she starts babbling, giving her his full attention.

He also says the babbling makes more sense than anything Alcina has ever said, which ends up with poor Donna holding the baby while the two of them tussle about the pews.

Also please imagine Donna roping him into doing tea parties.

He’s not a great teacher, so Moreau steps in. Heck, sometimes even Karl will be sitting next to his daughter on the floor in confusion because he has no idea what algebraic fractions are.

His daughter is the most important thing in the world to him, and he will do everything in his power to protect her from the outside world.

[sukirichi]

earned it [05]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. domestic abuse, car accident, slight angst, sexism, suggestive scenes, unedited and my naoya simping is obvious with this one, 

notes. TEAM NAOYA LET’S GOOOO *sighs* finally got this out from my drafts. anyways, here’s an earned it update while i recover from migraines because my schedule was so hectic last week and i’m so tired, might be sleeping a lot these days hence the hiatus :( also ik i keep saying this but future chapters will finally be more...UH SPICY AND MORE DRAMATIC, I guess? this is mostly an angst fic btw so please don’t expect too much fluff of heartwarming romance. there WILL be romance,,,it just takes some time hehe, anways ENJOY...or not :)

series masterlist

Women were weak. Trained to be voiceless, compliant, and unable to fight – Naoya found them weak.

His own mother was the perfect epitome of that. For years, he’d watched her leave his father’s room with dried tears, wiping them away with the back of her sleeves. When she saw a little Naoya standing at the edge of the hallway, she’d immediately usher him back to his room, her tears replaced with a smile so convincing Naoya wouldn’t have believed she’d been crying if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. How could he be when day and night, he’s surrounded by tutors, expected to take over his clan and lead them all to a brighter future?

How could he be stupid when he can’t sleep at night, for the screams and cries of his mother, the sound of palm hitting cheek resonating just from the other room, accompanied with the insults directed her way by his own father?

How could he be so stupid when he looked up to his mother – who he believed was the only source of light in the rather desolate walls of their manor – only to see that her beauty faded with each passing day, the brightness of her eyes now filled agony, with pain, with fear? She no longer smiled; not even for him. She no longer came around his room to read him bedtime stories no matter how much Naoya pleaded because he’d gotten tired of reciting scriptures and poetry. She no longer kissed him on the forehead as a morning greeting, opting to stay in the sidelines with her head bowed, acting as if she was a servant and not his mother.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. As the future leader of the Zen’in Clan, it was his duty to hear and see everything, to be wary of everyone around him and to observe. He knew his father abused her. He knew his father hated her, looked down on her, stepped on her at each moment he could. And as if that wasn’t enough, Naoya found out they weren’t married in the first place.

She had been nothing but a mere concubine whose role was to birth an heir. Now that Naoya had come to life, her purpose to live ceased to exist. And people who had no role in the Zen’in estate had no reason to stay any further.

“Mother,” Naoya cried out, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. “Mother, please don’t go, don’t leave me!”

She was crying again; he wished she’d stop doing that, that she’d stop being so weak. He wanted his mother to be strong and fight back, but she’s not even attempting to wipe her tears away this time, displaying her vulnerability and meek self to him. Had his father been there, she’d be scolded again, claiming that Naoya shouldn’t be exposed to behaviors of surrender and weakness.

His mother cupped his face, trying her best to keep the younger version of himself from dangling onto her robes; the expensive, silk material the last evidence she’d ever been a part of them.

“Naoya, baby, it’s okay. You need to grow up strong and be the clan leader, okay?”

“But why do you have to leave? Why do you never fight back?”

“I’m sorry, dear...” was all she said, finally kissing him on the forehead like she’d failed to do so for the past months. Somehow, it didn’t make him feel any better. Instead, Naoya’s cries grows louder with each minute, loud enough that he caught the attention of his manservants who paled at the Young Master’s wails that was sure to displease his father locked inside his study. His mother sent a glance their way that expressed messages he couldn’t yet understand due to his innocence. Strong arms wrapped around his smaller frame until they dragged Naoya away from his mother, the sight of a luggage behind her turning him weak in the knees.

“Remember, Mother always loves you.”

“No!” he fought against their hold. His servants did all they could to not harm the Young Master’s skin, but Naoya was too strong, too desperate that they were unable to hold him back.

Naoya kept running and running, uncaring of the fact his loose robes hindered him from going at full speed. He didn’t stop, even as his servants had trailed after him, desperate pleas for the Young Master to come back falling into deaf ears. His mother had arrived on a nearby bus from the open roads that led outside the Zen’in Estate’s outer gates, her hand frozen on the doors with her head slightly tilted to the side.

That slight moment of hesitance – to look behind or leave everything behind – was what made Naoya stop in his tracks. He breathed hard, sweaty palms on his knees as he silently prayed to the divine beings to bring his mother back, for her to look at him one last time.

But she didn’t.

And Naoya was frozen in his tracks, everything colliding into one crash and burn that he failed to make sense of everything. He stood there and watched his mother hop into the bus, her decision to leave him behind final and irrevocable. What had rung louder then? The way his heart shattered into pieces, or the loud honking of an incoming car that not even his skilled team of guards could protect him from?

Naoya figured it must’ve been the muffled cries of his mother behind the windows that rung the loudest even if he hadn’t heard it.

Until now, he carried the mark his mother left behind; a gnarly scar running inches from his kneecaps that throbs until now. It reminds him every day what could happen to someone once they’re weak, once they’re vulnerable, the horrifying consequence of not being strong enough to face in this world like a huge slap in his face. In a way, he felt grateful for the scar; at least it was proof he’d done his best to run after his mother, and this injury just taught him it was best to face things head on instead of running away.

This scar would always tell him that running away was never the option, and that was why Naoya felt so strong, so disappointed when he met you. Naoya saw much potential in you – the wrath firing in your eyes and the will to fight back is what pulled him in on the first place – and yet you were already trembling on the ground, your sweat dripping on the floor.

“Stand up!” he demanded, tapping his cane on the ground as he wobbled to his feet. “Do you really think being weak will make you survive in this world?”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” he spat out, matching the intensity of your glare. Had you been any lesser of a woman, a servant, he’d have your eyes gouged out. But to him, you were a vessel of hope, an embodiment of strength he could help you hone that he let you off. Still, he felt extremely let down that he expected so much from you, and you’ve been pathetic so far.

Naoya shook his head as he left. “You’re going to die the moment you step out of here. And to think I actually had high hopes for you. As expected, you women are weak and pathetic. Each one of you is useless.”

He didn’t get very far when his injury throbbed again. Naoya fell to his knees and immediately bit down on his lip to conceal his groans, but it was too late. You’ve rushed to him in an instant, already pulling his slacks upwards to get a good look at his knee. Worry is painted all over your features still drenched in sweat and exhaustion, and he pried your hand away, a frown deep on his lips.

“Get away from me. I don’t need a woman’s help.”

“You’re so uptight, you know that?” you rebutted with a roll of your eyes. Naoya watched as you skipped to the nearest medical kit he always kept in his training grounds (which he rarely used) and popping out painkillers to hand to him. “Just shut up and let me take care of you. Unlike you, I don’t walk around calling people weak, and you having this injury never made you weak in my eyes, but you’re not impotent either,” scoffing at him, you pushed the bottle of water to a very annoyed looking Naoya. “At least let me take care of you every once in a while.”

His whole life, Naoya knew nothing but the familiar bitter cold. Being served tea, scaring his servants with his mere presence, the toxic view that everyone was below them drilled into his own head – that had been his life, and his feelings about it were neither hot nor cold.

To him, it was just the way he’s supposed to be.

But the warmth of your hands, the tenderness of your touch to his scars not because you found him weak but rather you cared for him…it tugged at his heartstrings. That had been at least five years ago and Naoya still remembered that moment very clearly.

He couldn’t understand whether he hated his inability to run away or not, because to be around you confused him to no end. One moment, he saw you as nothing but his one way ticket to fortune, but when he was alone with you, he was beginning to see you more as a woman rather than a pawn to his game. Soon, you became more than that, and nothing had terrified him even more that he let someone in his heart just like that.

Did he love you? No, most definitely not. A man like him didn’t know how to love. But with you – every time he saw you – Naoya is confident to admit that he could somehow understand what love meant.

It had been a hellish trip – one he’d never admit it out loud that he wished to never go on again. He was just happy to be home before he laughed, because home? He’d never thought he’d ever say that, yet there he was, beaming at the sight of you pushing your weight off the limousine.

You looked as stunning as usual, running up to him even with your heels before wrapping your arms around his neck. Usually, Naoya didn’t like public displays of affection since it could greatly deter his reputation, but everyone knew both of you weren’t each other’s weaknesses that he didn’t care whether his people could see their leader grinning as his wife welcomed with a kiss. Naoya balanced himself on his cane to encircle a hand to your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair.

“I missed you,” you mumbled with your head buried in his shoulder.

Naoya’s smile wasn’t any less affectionate. “I missed you more.” And he did – a whole lot. Even as you both made it inside the limousine, the tablet passed to him per the usual to update him on what happened on the few days of his absence, Naoya couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His cane balanced between his knee and the door, while his free hand intertwined with yours, mindlessly caressing the matching rings that symbolized more trust than love.

“How did it go?” he brought your knuckles up to his lips and kissed it, his attention still focused on today’s stock market. “Did you convince him to lend us the lab?”

“Yes, my love, everything is under control. I told you I had it.”

“Cunning little minx,” he smirked at the confidence and triumph dripping from your voice. Naoya shut his tablet off with a click, hauling you until you were resting on his lap. Giggles erupted beautifully from your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, both your smiles equally mischievous. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No. Satoru is still hopelessly in love with me, so it didn’t really take much to push him to the edge with a few tears and white lies,” you smiled at him, soon dropping from your face when Naoya’s eyes darkened with an unreadable – no, unfamiliar hint of worry behind them. “Naoya,” you caressed his leg, “I don’t care about him anymore, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I just want to survive and put everything behind,” you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eye, making sure he heard every bit of sincerity in your voice. “You know I love you, right? I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Him coming back doesn’t change a thing.”

“I know that,” he said, although deep down, in the dark recesses of his heart, something agonizing stirred within.

You were a smart woman – too intelligent that he may have feared you had he been any lesser – who could easily read through him, but Naoya wanted to be a step ahead of you that he caught your lips to stop you from seeking beneath his soul already. He knew that if you looked a little too close, you’d see everything, and that would be the last thing he wanted.

Snaking his tongue past your lips, he greedily swallowed your moans. Naoya’s touch was possessive as he gripped your thigh, seconds away from ripping off the material of your dress. He only stopped once he saw his driver pale in awkwardness, and he chuckled to himself, squeezing your hips to stop you from grinding on his thigh.  

“You’re always so good for me,” he praised, “I might just reward you once we get home.”

Home. Prior to meeting you, home had been nothing but a word in his extensive vocabulary. Home had been nothing but something that carried a meaning but no significance in his living, but now that he’d met you, home felt familiar. Home smelled like rose-scented shampoos, it resonated of bubbly laughter and curious hands finding its way to its belt. Home…you’d just given him something to lose.

As per the plan, you managed to sneak past Satoru’s defenses. Naoya had once said that your secret weapon was not your tempting nature as a woman, but rather your intelligence that sometimes put his to shame. He’d shamelessly announced his plan to use you again with the goal of taking matters into your own hands, looping Satoru into the picture until you have him wrapped around your finger again.

It turned out to be easier than expected. Truthfully, you wanted to refuse. It wasn’t because you were worried you’d beat yourself in your own game and fall for Satoru again, but because it felt so uncomfortable to hold him like that, to kiss him like that.

Each second you spent with him just served as a painful reminder of how he’d mindlessly pushed you to the side from a failed plan of ‘protecting’ you.

However, you couldn’t complain nor deny Naoya’s wishes. He wanted to use your abilities to the fullest of its extent and bring out your potential. Besides, you trusted him wholeheartedly that you’d never question his motives, even if it included seducing Satoru with crocodile tears and a faux broken heart to get him to bend and move at your will. After all, your will was also Naoya’s, and that was what made the both of you so dangerous together.

Standing here now in Satoru’s laboraty, sending him phoney desperate glances as you clutched your husband’s hand, the game had just begun.

He was giving you both a tour of what you could use from his laboratory, and Naoya had kept silent the whole time. The whole drug manufacturing was more your expertise than his. He simply observed everything with watchful eyes, his gaze darting between Satoru’s longing ones and yours. It was a play pretend of push and pull, everyone in the room except for Satoru unaware that soon, you’d bare your fangs to rip his neck apart, and then you’d stand aside and let Naoya finish the business.

You would’ve laughed had Naoya not tightened his grip on your hand. Both you and Satoru paused as Naoya desperately shushed you up, his eyes wide and floating from one corner to another.

Suddenly, a loud explosion came out of nowhere. The blast crushed half of the building to bare rubble and concrete and you saw nothing but black, inhaled so much smoke that your lungs quivered. The ringing in your ears didn’t stop as you wobbled to unsteady legs, waving the smoke away and coughing whatever filled your system. Satoru was right beside you, his long limbs quicker than yours before he hauled you up, checking to see if you had injuries but you were too scared, too desolate to care for his worry.

For your husband laid under a pile of rubble, an arm and his head the only parts of his body saved from the explosion.

“Naoya!” You screamed and pushed Gojo away, taking your heels off before darting straight to where he was. Jumping from broken debris to one another, your feet scraped and burned with each contact, the ringing in your ears growing louder along with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“Naoya, baby, no!” you tried to pick up the heavy slab of concrete that had crushed his body, tears blurring your vision until Naoya’s blond hair swiveled with his dark clothes. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t you fucking dare-”

“Gojo,” he choked out blood. You fell to your knees as you cupped his face and grasped his hand all the while, your entire body shaking. His name kept falling from your lips as you asked him to stand up but he pushed your hand away, not sparing you another glance as he glared at the shock still man behind you. “Take her someplace far – somewhere he won’t find the both of you. It’s T-Toji.”

“No, Naoya, please! I’m not leaving without you!” It was too late. Satoru had easily carried you and threw you over his shoulder, running away from the scene because that was what he was best at. You pounded at his back as the smoke enlarged and covered the entirety of the building that had fizzled with chemicals inside, your husband starting to disappear from view. “Satoru, let me go! We can’t just leave him there!”

“Listen to your husband! He knows what he’s doing!”

As the smoke cleared for a split second, your world stilled. Naoya’s face was smothered with dirt and stains, pain evident on his twisted features, and yet – he was smiling. “Go,” he mouthed, hands outstretched far enough for your matching rings to glint under the sparkling lights. “Live.”

You slumped into Satoru’s arms. It was too late.

You couldn’t comprehend the events that happened afterwards. Satoru had pushed you inside his car before taking off to who knows where. All you knew was that you’d left your husband behind, and you stared emptily at the streets that flashed by, unable to feel or understand anything. It wasn’t until Satoru dragged you out by the wrist and a plane whirring before you snapped you back to life, your feet turning heavy as you plant yourself on the ground.

Satoru looked back at you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you shook your head, “I’m not leaving him behind, Satoru, he’s all I have. I need to save him – even if it means I die.”

“You’re not going to die,” he starts off slowly. Satoru moves to place his hands down on your shoulders as if to brace you, even going as far as to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you couldn’t really listen, not when the plane hummed to life and remnants of the explosion still clung to your skin.

“Listen, Naoya is a smart man, okay? You know that yourself. He’ll survive, you just need to trust that he’ll make it. Now we have to go before Toji catches up to us and we end up all dying here!” he shook you back to life when your sobs overpowered his speech that fell on deaf ears, and you cried harder, much less like a little girl who quivered in his arms. Satoru sighed, perhaps just as broken from seeing you this way. “He told you to live. Naoya isn’t asking you to die for him, he’s asking you to live and if you don’t get on the plane, we can’t fulfill his wish,” he convinced, but you only bit your lip, still looking back at the car. You could steal it – one punch to his nose and you could easily get away, get back to Naoya, until he said, “You love him right? So respect his wishes.”

You love him. You love Naoya. He would’ve wanted me to live. He asked me to live.

That was the only consolation you could give yourself as you allowed Satoru to take you inside. His right hand man, Geto or something, quietly closed the cabin doors behind you. He was making sure his boss was situated, who in turn was fretting over you. All it took was one last warning glare sent Satoru’s way before he backed off, raising his hands in surrender and falling back to his seat.

Sooner than you’d like, the plane had took off, leaving your heart right behind with each passing second. The higher you flew up in the air, the number you became.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a base in Italy. We should be safe there for a while. Gather resources, plan our next move, contact friends...we’ll be fine,” Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose. It was hard to believe things would be fine when he too seemed restless; whatever happened between him and Toji must’ve really left a scar; not that you cared. You huffed away from Satoru and stared outside the windows instead, your heart dropping the farther Japan was becoming. “Hey. You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“Whatever,” you snapped at him. You couldn’t stand his voice, not even if he’s saved you.

The only thing that mattered now was living up to Naoya’s wish, and as much as you hated it, Satoru was right. You had to hope he would survive.

The chances of him making it out were low, but knowing Naoya, low chances weren’t zero. As long as he had a little bit of something, he would keep pushing. You just had to place your trust in him.

Kissing your dusty ring, you wiped away your tears one last time, eyes shut tight as you chanted over and over, live, live, live for me! Live! Naoya couldn’t give up that easily. You both had a long way to go, still so many places to travel, thousand more enemies to conquer and defeat. He promised you the fun was just beginning and that you’d get your revenge soon, and Naoya never broke his promises. So you had to trust, had no other choice but to believe that soon he’d be right beside you. He may not be able to completely walk anymore, though none of that mattered. You just wanted to be with him again.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until Satoru’s hushed whispers woke you up. Sitting up straight, you saw him scowling to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. He looked grim, long, slender fingers caressing his forehead as he sighed. Whatever he heard, it couldn’t have been good, and curiosity got the best of you before you could help it.

“What is it?” Satoru stilled at the sound of your voice, having not expected you to be awake. He refused to meet your eyes as he shut his phone. It angered you further and you stalked his way, slapping a palm down the table before him. “I said, what is it?”

“It’s Naoya...” he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to look you in the eye. “He didn’t make it.”

notes. team naoya...let’s go...cry 😭 when I said I would write more gojo x reader scenes and that they’re still the pairing, I meant it, I just had to take a dark route anyways DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND WHY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE THIS, I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS TO NAOYA BAE 😭 but on the bright side, italy arc is gonna be SHEESH

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @riri-marley @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant​ @mikiminaccch​ | bolder users cannot be tagged

[kai-9273]

Little Makeshift Family- part 1 ( prologue)

Ongoing story, click here to continue reading <3 ( it is on wattpad btw)

It was a quiet evening, strange considering it was halloween. Children would normally be running all over knocking on doors and trying to find the lucky house that gave out chocolate frogs or the occasional full sized Botts every flavor beans.

But it seemed like the world knew of the tragedy that had happened. The one that took place at Godrics Hollow, marking an end to the raging war.

Severus certainly knew, before the order even caught wind of it he was already fleeing towards the house.

He was horrified at the eerie silence of the house, broken by the terrified cries of a baby.

He barely registered the body lying limp at the threshold before making his way to the person he really came for. He found lily on the second floor in the nursery, the baby crying for his mother as severus clutched her body.

" no lily, no no no...." he trailed off into sobs.

He let out a cry, causing harry more distress but at this point he felt like his heart had been shattered.

He was supposed to meet lily next week, at a tavern to reconcile. Severus had gotten over his love for lily a long time ago but the one thing he always regretted was never making things right.

So when she reached out he was overjoyed, not that he'd show it but he was. She herself sounded happy when he finally said yes, shrieking excitedly over the fire when they talked to reconfirm.

But now it was all ripped away from him in a second, all because of the 'Dark Lord' he so called worshipped.

He turned his attention to the baby and walked over to him. Using a spell, he wiped off the blood dripping from his scar.

" shhh." He said softly, taking him in his arms.

" lets get you to the order."

His tone was solemn and harry slowly stopped crying, sniffling softly.

Then there was a crash downstairs and severus immediately jumped. Carefully walking down the stairs he held his wand close and harry even closer.

As he descended the stairs, the source of the noise became clear and severus' eyes widened.

" potter!" He yelled, running down as james struggled to stand.

" Snivilus? What the hell are you-?" James' eyes went from severus to harry and it seemed like all the events of that night came flooding back.

" no no- is lily-?!"

" you dont want to go up there." Severus held a hand to his chest.

" let me through."

" you're weak, and you.....im sure you already know what you're going to see up there." Severus looked down.

But ever so stubbornly james insisted. It was to the point where he was about to collapse from sheer exhaustion and severus took matters into his own hands.

Hooking his elbow around james' he stopped his squirming.

And without warning the three left the scene with a 'pop'.

————————————————————-

Severus sat next to james' hospital bed, silently mulling over what happened until he heard sheets stir.

James opened his eyes and immediately sat up. He looked around frantically, clutching at his shirt until he finally caught sight of severus.

" Snivilus, what are you doing here?" He panted.

Severus crossed his legs, leaning back into the chair.

" who else would be here?"

James sighed, looking around confused.

" where's harry?"

" i dropped him off at Blacks. I couldn't legally take him with you unconscious."

James sighed and held his head in his hands, bringing his knees close to his chest.

" oh god. Lily she.....she didn't make it did she?"

Severus looked down, fidgeting with his hands in hopes to stop the shaking.

" she was already dead when i arrived."

This received a choked off response and a shuddering breath. James covered his face, trying to keep it together but failing.

" guess you got what you wanted huh? Happy Potter family ruined." James spat bitterly.

Severus' eyes widened.

" are you serious? This is what you're thinking of right now?"

" oh dont deny it. I know you hated our relationship, probably too busy falling in love with my wife."

" Potter this isn't a time to pick fights with me."

" oh really? Then when is? I wake up after getting attacked by a manic wizard and then i see YOU of all people carrying my son!"

" i was trying to help! I thought you were dead!"

" well guess i got lucky then. My wife is dead but hey, at least you're here." James looked angry, eyes wide and cold.

Severus scoffed.

" you're clearly in grief. Ill take my leave. Goodbye potter." Severus stood up swiftly and walked away, swinging the door open and leaving.

As soon as he did james regretted it. He wished he wasn't alone, even if it was his former nemesis.

He was confused and angry and he was lashing out due to it. Plus severus wasn't exactly the face he wanted to see.

But honestly it was better than no one.

————————————————————

One month later. November 30th, a full month of the new war-less world and severus was sitting beside a hospital bed once again. He should've been happy, not having to deal with the ongoing battle anymore.

But for peace, they gave happiness in return.

" hello." Severus said blankly, not looking up from his book while james woke up.

After the first few days he stopped getting surprised severus was there and instead just stared blankly at the ceiling.

Grief takes many forms, but for james it seemed like he was a monotonous zombie now.

He barely ate, barely talked. Just sat in his hospital room laying in bed.

Of course severus was there, and the occasional Sirius to try and cheer him up. Remus came a few times, even brought the baby.

But no matter what, nobody could get through to James.

" i brought you breakfast. Hot chocolate and a scone." Severus pointed towards the food set next to his bed on the side table.

" magic hospital or not the food must really suck."

It felt like talking to a brick wall but if he didn't severus was gonna lose his mind. Severus turned towards the 'breakfast' the nurses brought for him, the bland sludge sitting untouched in the safety of its bowl.

" oatmeal?"

" or cardboard that looks like oatmeal. Probably more accurate."

Severus almost jumped from hearing James' voice after so long but he chose not to give a reaction.

" hm. Sounds about right." Severus nodded.

James sat up, grabbing the hot chocolate in his hands and taking a sip. The familiar winter chill was starting to settle in.

He was pale and his hands had turned bony. Tear marks and red eyes from lack of sleep and the crying was evident on his face. He looked so hollow. It was hard to see.

" so....you're getting discharged tonight. Excited? You can get harry back." Severus commented, closing his book softly.

James stopped all movements and swallowed. He set the to go cup in his lap, picking at the lid.

" do i have to go back to Godrics hollow?" He asked, feeling shivers travel down his spine just from the thought.

" not if you dont want to. Im sure Black or Lupin could make accommodations. Anyone in the Order would be happy to-"

" what about you? Where do you live?"

Severus was surprised by this, from all the people in the world who would kill to give a home to these two James asks him.

" im a teacher at Hogwarts so i gotta stay close. I live in a small house in Hogsmeade."

James nodded, still picking at his cup to the point severus was scared he was gonna burrow a hole into it.

" its two bedrooms. Spacious but im afraid Harry wouldn't have his own nursery. Then again we could always turn the closet into one."

James looked up with wide eyes, surprised severus was actually considering letting them stay. Severus rolled his eyes at the bewildered look james was giving him.

" relax i was kidding, im not gonna stick your child in a closet, what kind of monster does that?"

" no no. Its not that uh....I didn't think you'd actually consider it." James traveled off then looked away.

Severus smiled to himself then shrugged.

" its for lily's sake. She would've wanted her child and husband safe. So i will do everything in my power to ensure that. Even if it means living with you."

James snorted, pursing his lips in a kind of sad smile.

" then do you mind if we stay with you? I just know that if we go anywhere else then they'll make a big deal out of it. You're the only one that doesn't make me feel like your walking on eggshells."

" of course."

" just until i find a place for me and harry. Then we'll be out of your hair."

" sure. No problem. Stay as long as you need."

" thank you."

Severus hummed in response and James gave a sheepish smile before he decided it was time to look at the scone severus had brought.

Quietly severus reopened his book, sipping on his own coffee while james enjoyed his breakfast.

Hm. Living with the Potters. That'll be interesting.

————————————————————

It was in fact interesting. Around 5 pm was when james was discharged, Dumbledore and Mcgonagal even came to check on him.

After countless ' no im fine, really im fine's they finally got a move on.

Members of the order had so lovingly packed all of james' things for him so that he didn't even have to set foot in his house.

Probably for the best since the robot man they call James Potter was one more traumatic experience away from losing his mind.

But for now here they were, standing outside of Severus' humble little cottage.

" i know it must be smaller than what you're used to but it does the job." Severus added, feeling a little defeated already.

" no no i like it. Its....quaint. It reminds me of hogwarts."

" well considering we're less than 20 minutes away from hogwarts i would think so."

James snorted, the first time severus has heard him laugh in a while.

James wasn't one to grieve, even with the loss of his parents he didn't really show much emotion but for the past month he had completely shut down.

It was nice seeing him at least react.

" shall we go in?" Severus gestured to the door.

James nodded, going to pick up his luggage but severus was already floating them in the air and into the house. One by one his suitcases wafted into the house so james followed his belongings.

Upon entering he almost laughed. It was almost bare, not much lighting, not even picture on the walls.

It was almost too Severus Snape.

" i know its bare but i dont spend much time here. Good news for you probably." Severus stood next to him after seeing james' amused look.

The comment made james sad, that severus wasn't around much because he wasn't sure how he was going to handle alone time.

" uh but feel free to decorate it however you like. Honestly it needs the renovation. Chances are ill be living here for as long as i teach so its good if it looks like someone actually lives here."

James' luggage was floated upstairs by severus' magic, up the steps into what james was assuming was his room.

" the bedrooms are upstairs, kitchen down that hallway, living room across it. I was thinking i could add a room on the second floor, could probably magic one but I'll have to ask Dumbledore." Severus mumbled while walking down said hallway.

James followed him to the kitchen and again, he wasn't surprised at the completely bare atmosphere.

" you dont cook much do you?" James asked.

" oh. Well i eat at school so there's never really a reason for me to." Severus shrugged.

" so you wouldn't mind if i used this kitchen?"

" make it your own personal sanctuary. Just dont go into my office. Its at the back of the house and it has a lot of rare potions in it."

James raised his eyebrows and walked around the kitchen, admiring the nice marbled countertops.

" will do. Uh when is harry coming here?"

" oh, Lupin said he will bring him around 7 pm. Apparently Black is having a hard time saying goodbye."

" sounds like Sirius."

" it does."

There was brief silence, followed by some tense inhales and then james finally broke it.

" im gonna uh, check upstairs."

" oh yeah go ahead." Severus nodded.

James bounded up the stairs, checking out the rooms while severus collected his bearings.

Oh god this was gonna be really interesting.

[sprinklesandshatters]

A Review on NCT 127′s 3rd Album <Sticker>

So NCT 127 just came back with their 3rd Full Album <Sticker> and this is my first 127 comeback since I became a fan last year! Neozone is such a special album for me as it was their first album that I explored entirely. I've known NCT as the group who never fails any expectations so I've kept mine up although I know they'll exceed it anyway. And guess what, they did! I absolutely love their new album hence this review~

This isn't a technical music review—as I am not a musician myself—but rather a listener's honest takes, goofy notes, and interpretation on each of the tracks in the album. I admit I've also struggled to build my own opinions on some of the tracks until I listened to them over and over again.

I have also heard there are mixed opinions on the title track <Sticker> and a lot says it's another acquired taste. But I think it's not just that, as it can be a grower, just like how most of NCT's songs were for me. Maybe after a few listens and a right passage of time, it will grow on those people. The bottom line here is, I like it a lot! 😛

So I listed down the songs according to their respective track numbers and followed each with a bulleted list of my opinions and interpretations.

(Viewer/reader discretion: before you continue, minors, do not interact as there are few 18+ contents under the cut. Thank you.)

1. Sticker

THEY DIDN'T JUST PUNCH A NEW NOTCH ON THE BELT LIKE THAT

THIS SONG SLAPS, LITERALLY SLAPS… AND WHIPS 

The recorder at the intro boyyyy I thought something was wrong but then I remember it’s NCT lmao

It already stuck in my head from my first listen from the Instagram audio.

With Taeyong opening the verse with his divine rapping, I knew I'm in for a new ride.

STICK-UH STICK-UGH STICK-UGHGHGH

To those complaining it sounding like noise music, imagine it sounding generic. I don't think it would fit as the title track. Not a b-track or in their repertoire, even. They are called NCT because they define the NEO in the music culture and music technology!

It honestly was an unorthodox, just like all of their title tracks, which I’m inherently here for.

Literally, no one does it like them!

The growls and the vocal flexes and adlibs! (You can tell it has Yoo Youngjin's brand.)

The crisp metronome sound that’s consistently ticking except for the pre-chorus and the dance break adds depth to the soundscape. I love how it’s used instead of the usual snaps.

The production quality blew my mind. Like how can someone think those melodies would sound so exquisite? CAN I CALL THEM GENIUS?

The piano at the back, oh my God—Yes! It adds this mystifying element to the song.

I'm not sure if it's a midi violin at the pre-chorus, but it added thrill to the song. It was a great transition from the bass line in the verses to the combination of the flawless harmony with the same instrumental.

"You treat me like a boy, like a grown-up child chasing a dream" JUNGWOO BABY NO MORE HUH

Taeil, Doyoung, and Haechan—the bridge vocal trinity!

But why the heck are they cowboys? I dig the concept, but why? LMAO

BTW GUNSLINGER MARK I’M ON MY KNEES YEEHAW

This is easily one of my favorite tracks from NCT 127's entire discography 💚

2. Lemonade

(⌐■_■)

Jaehyun starting off this song with his deep voice eee

The song opens to a verse oozing with chill confidence. They're like, yeah you're lurking because we’re cool.

This is such a huge slap to their haters. NCT's not chillin' like a villain, nah they're the main characters!

Well maybe they’re villains, but still ya not cooler than them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Funny enough how they could have just referred haters as simply lemons whose sour/bitter to the taste, but 127 squad's success is sweeter than all the haters' spiteful remarks so yeah, SIPPY SIPPY LEMONADE 🧃

"WOOF"

I might have just barked too wOW

Yuta’s vocals hooooO his voice just sounds so glamorous mhmm

Also Mark referencing their previous title tracks such as: Firetruck, Cherry Bomb, and Regular (it's Irregular in the lyrics) in his rap part 👌💅

I just love Mark's energy when he raps. HE RESOLUTELY BITES AND STRAIGHT UP EATS EVERY TIME HE DOES.

3. Breakfast

Now breakfast time, oh jeez!

AAAHAHFU—

Summer 127's bestie!

If Summer 127 talks about dancing all night long, Breakfast is the morning after.

You know what it is.

"Even if I gulp and drink you, it's not enough for me." oho Taeyong no you ha—STOP

Sexual innuendos aside, isn't it just sweet if someone tells you they'd want to have breakfast with you every day?  Okay maybe I'm melting at the thought 😩🙈💞

And I can see myself dancing to this song as I make breakfast (in the afternoon or at midnight bc I’m crazy)

This was an okay b-track for me at the first skim on the album, but boy it grew on me wildly.

Honestly one of my favorite tracks in this album.

4. Focus

Did I just invade a private call? LMAO

The analog voice filters make it like so.

Dude, this feels intimate in the level of eavesdropping a phone call between seasoned lovers. Then you realize you hear them whispering their kinks over the line and you're ooh, that's sexy! hfgklhfhf

My first listen to this, I almost went feral because,

"I can't wait to eat you…" when it's actually "I can't wait 'til we chill…" aahaha

"Baby call me when you want me." OKAY!

This sounds relaxing and chill. I'd love to play this on a late night drive or just before bed time along with Fly Away With Me, Sun & Moon, My Youth, and Long Flight.

Belongs to ��make out session’ playlist  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

That was lowkey a playlist recommendation, huh?

I'd be kidding if I don't say I could touch myself while listening to this song AHAHAFGHFJFJ

I didn't know this would grow on me this much lol I love love LOVE THIS!

5. The Rainy Night

Ooh, the holy melancholy!

Piano at the intro—I knew I'd cry to this.

This song isn't just about break-up, but the heartbreak after one.

The yearning; the remnant pieces from the shattering of what was once there.

I think I crumbled from this one.

This hit so hard I felt like I fit in the shoes with the lyrics throughout the entire song.

What’s fascinating is I clearly forgot the title when I mentally said this sounds like a sad rainy day song from the first listen.

Something I’d turn up when it suddenly rains, just because I want to feel the blues.

Taeil and Haechan singing in lower register? I wanna cry :( they’re just one of the best vocalists in K-music industry right now.

Could have been also nice if they added Yuta to the vocals.

"My selfish heart who waits for you to come back," OKAY WHO HURT THEM?

And the fact that they sang it so good that it translated every ounce of the emotions well even before I looked up for English translations is the reason why I love this song too.

6. Far

Hmm… What the hell?! Do I like this? Wait...

Alright!

The jumpy vibe from the first verse to the pre-chorus set the mood for this song. It sounds merry and heavy. It was honestly too much to take until I’ve reached the chorus part.

Honestly, I think this song could fit NCT Dream better, as it gives off a vibe similar to Hello Future's b-tracks. If some credible source say this could have made HF’s track list, I might believe you too fast.

Also Dream’s Deja Vu where they go na nananananana na na na~

Playful yet confident! That’s what I mean!

As usual, the vocals are insane! Vocal flex from left to right!

I swear Jungwoo sounded a bit like Taemin at the second verse that I had to replay it hahaha

I love hearing Johnny as a vocalist! SM, how many signs do you need until you utilize his vocal talent???

Taeil's part where he sings, "go nuts, go nuts, 'til we go bust, go bust" IDEK BUT I SNORTED A LAUGH AT FIRST LISTEN HFCAHKFHK

Not my favorite, but still great though!

But wait it’s actually stuck in my head???

7. Bring The Noize

Yes, they never beat those noise music allegations

HERE'S SOME NOIZE, BITCHES

I love me some noisy percussions. AND THE BASS YO

This screams so much confidence!

The build up from the pre-chorus to the chorus—FIRE!

This song reminds me a lot of SuperM's Super Car, especially with the engine roar samples and the battle cry-like singing at the chorus.

JAEHYUN RAPPING? You mean Jaehyun the visual, the vocalist, the actor, the model, the funny dude, aka my everything?! (markie bb look pls look away for a moment)

THEY DELIVERED IT STRAIGHT FROM NEOCITY THAT'S SOME NCT MUSIC RIGHT THERE NO ONE DOES IT LIKE THEM

When I said I'd play Focus on a late night drive, and if I add this in the playlist, VROOM VROOM SPEED LIMIT WHAT

OUTTA MY WAY

“We got no shame” ouh TAEYONG’S FLOW IS JUST VERY HIM AND HE’S IN A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN

You know what's so clever about this song? It's how it ended with Mark's final rap without any instrumental, leaving you  standing there with a doppler effect-like post experience.

A super car on a super speed just whooshed past you and you look its way as it zips through the road. It's gone in an instant but you're floored dumbfounded at a sidewalk. That's how I describe this song.

8. Magic Carpet Ride

This song… Wow. Oh gosh it's so beautiful.

Their harmony in the chorus—it makes me want to kiss someone so passionately that I'd cry.

This makes me want to feel love that transcends the universe. Literally, just please take me on a magic carpet ride :(

The background harmonies too oh my goodness—HEAVENLY.

Jaehyun's voice is so warm and soulful it fits perfectly with songs of this genre.

Okay alright Doyoung Grande!

And Taeil makes me feel like I'm listening to old school R&B.

The first time I heard this from the track video, I can't stop replaying because it's just that great.

This makes me want to love. I think that sums it up.

9. Road Trip

This is such a soothing song for me, especially how I easily become nostalgic thinking about the road trips I've had.

Whenever I listen to this, my brain immediately conjures up thoughts of my ideal getaways. Gazing at the sky through the car window, stirring up from a nap in the middle of the ride, and   eventually reaching your destination.

Oh, to travel around anywhere... (curse you covid-19)

Okay that's it. I'M PACKING UP.

But where do I go—

I could also imagine Mark playing this on the guitar and the other members sing along together, something like that.

Just Wholesome™ vibes.

I love how it evokes such a nice emotion within me effortlessly.

This isn't my favorite, but I still love this.

10. Dreamer

Eyyyy such a refreshing song!

This song is so bright it makes me want to dance. I play this first in the shower!

It reminds me so much of Elevator (from Neozone)

The horns make it more lively I think!

Yuta and Jungwoo's voice suits lively songs like this.

The background vocal in low register in Taeyong's part in the first verse is so good ahhfhf

Taeil, the R&B vocal king you are...

There's this part where Doyoung and Johnny harmonized, that at first listen they seemed to clash, but it sounded actually fine after a few listens. Maybe it's just that I've never heard them do it before.

And I think it's Doyoung's laugh at the end of the bridge? Oh my goodness I really love this too!

11. Promise You

MY FIRST LOVE AND MOST FAVORITE SONG IN THE ALBUM!!!

The first time I heard this from their NCIT Sharehouse Sitcom, I fell in love with the song already.

It sounds like something you'd feel from a warm, welcoming hug.

The lyrics are so beautiful and endearing. It's definitely a be-there-for-you type of song that will touch your heart.

It definitely sounds like a promise.

A song about platonic intimacy.

This really fits to be the closing song of the album. It's like the end of it but holds a promise that says “see you soon.”

Because they cherish their fans like that.

It's also like I've watched a movie with a happy ending, where the camera pans up to the clear sky and this song starts playing.

Speaking of ending, I would love to hear them sing this as an encore stage in their concert. You know, that moment just before the stage lights die down at the end of the concert where they send final blows of flying kisses to NCTzens. Then you come home smiling and crying.

This wasn't supposed to be this long since I originally planned to write this with just simple phrases and emojis but I got too engrossed lol. I also meant to include my own ratings but I figured it’s pointless since I can’t really decide about them hahaha

I really enjoyed the whole album and I love how they're progressively defining what NEO means by breaking through standards. It's not NCT music if it doesn't make you say "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?" But then you realize it’s stuck in your head and you’re enjoying it already.

✨ OVERALL RATING: 127/10 💚

if you’ve reached until here, thank you for letting me share you a braincell or two 💞

[shadowsinger11]

You, The Stars And I

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (oops)

Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)

Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️

A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab

Masterlist

The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.

The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.

Hogwarts was no longer home.

Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.

But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.

You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.

The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.

You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.

The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.

There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.

You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.

I must not ask questions.

You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.

You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.

"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."

Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.

The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.

"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."

"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."

Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.

"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."

Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"

"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."

The twins nodded. George said.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."

"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."

Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.

"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."

"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"

"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.

Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.

"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."

"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."

And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.

The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.

Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.

"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.

Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."

"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"

The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.

You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.

You needed to do something. Fast.

"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.

You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."

"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.

"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."

"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."

You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.

That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.

You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."

Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."

You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.

"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"

Nothing.

Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.

After a minute Fred finally spoke.

"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."

"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.

"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"

Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes,  and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.

You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.

"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.

"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."

It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.

But this warmth did not belong to you.

You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.

Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.

"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.

You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.

"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.

Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.

"I can try."

Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.

Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.

But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.

What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.

Every move was calculated, every word and breath.

You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.

"There. It should do the trick."

The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.

"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.

Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?

The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.

The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.

Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.

The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.

His soft voice broke the burdening silence.

"Are you going to bed?"

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.

"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."

"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.

Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.

Without skipping a beat he said.

"Come with me."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.

Trust me.

Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?

But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.

Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.

"Where to, Weasley?"

Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.

"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"

You smiled at him.

"Sure."

It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.

Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.

"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.

Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.

"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.

"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."

Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."

You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.

He was such a beautiful man.

Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.

"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.

"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."

"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."

A shuddering breath.

"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."

Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.

"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."

"As if you're not."

"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."

"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."

He gave your knee a squeeze.

"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."

A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.

It's just me.

Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.

After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."

"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."

You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.

"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."

Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.

You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.

And that was alright.

There was enough time, not need for a rush.

Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.

Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.

Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.

"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."

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