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celestie0 · 2 days

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

in holy matriphony ch2. you may now kiss the bride!!

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

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

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his early 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. 2/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 16.8k (i be yappin)

a/n. AHHH thanks very much for 2k followers!! yippeee :”) i had a lot of fun writing this chapter of ihm i feel like there’s a lot of silly but a lot of angsty too and i got to set up a lot of secondary plot lines in this chapter which was fun. i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

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

“Can you chop down that stupid avocado tree of yours already? It keeps dropping its devilish spawn all over my herb garden.”

“Wow. Good afternoon to you too.”

Gojo scratches the back of his head from where he’s opened the front door of his house, standing in his pajamas and you briefly glance down at his bunny slippers before looking back up at him with a ridiculing face before pushing past him into his house.

Gojo’s house is almost the exact mirror of yours, as are most houses in the neighborhood, but it’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it and so you take an indulgent look. A cozy family room to the side, which you see he’s decorated with a coffee table and a loveseat, and the staircase is visible from the entrance. A modest dining table sits where the carpet turns into wood, and you’ve noticed he’s made the effort to place real hardwood on his floors contrary to the laminate in yours. Ok, show off. Your eyes take in the paintings on the wall, and you remember how his house almost looks fake, like in the way he sets up props in open houses he’s showing for clients, as if someone lives here and yet somehow there’s no real living proof of it.

And because it’s pretty much the exact same layout as your house, you know exactly where the pantry room is, and you grab a bunch of Doritos and Pocky from his secret snack drawer.

“Oh yes, go right ahead. Please,” he says sarcastically as he leans against a support pillar near the dining room and watches you stuff your face with his snacks.

“So,” you say, muffled, “did you grab the paperwork?”

“No, I didn’t.” He glances at his watch. “My friend’s a family law lawyer, and he’s gonna be here soon to help us out with the prenup.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’re being serious about the prenup? You really think I’m trying to gold dig at the cobwebs of your bank account? How little self respect do you think I have?”

“...do you really want me to answer that questi–”

The doorbell ringing startles you, and you quickly wipe at your face to clear any crumbs before setting the wrappers in your hands onto a bookshelf as you watch Gojo head to the door and open it.

You hear another distinct masculine voice ring in the air as Gojo exchanges pleasantries with him in the form of a handshake and a familiar hug with a few pats on the back, and then the angle Gojo twists his body reveals the man standing outside the door. He’s a bit shorter than Gojo with a lean build, clad in a fiercely formal black suit and tie with polished shoes. His hair is well-kept, short and raven black, and his eyes are sunken with what you can only imagine is fatigue. And it’s kinda hot to you, unfortunately, after years of working the night shift, you’re starting to find dark circles under people’s eyes to be extremely attractive.

“Uh, y/n, this is my friend, Higurama. Hiromi Higurama,” Gojo says, gesturing between the two of you, “and Hiromi, this is y/n. My obnoxious neighbor. Careful though, if you get too close she’ll bite off your fingers.”

“I’ll bite off a different appendage of yours if you don’t shut the fuck up,” you snarl at him, and Higurama takes a step inside the house to greet you with an outstretched hand.

“Hi, it’s lovely to meet you,” he says, and you’re a little startled by the politeness, but aptly shake his hand and nod before squawking out a likewise!!

You look past Higurama at Gojo who’s got an eyebrow raised at you, and then your eyes are on Higurama again as you watch him set his briefcase down on the dining table. “Are we ready to discuss?” he asks, brown eyes darting between the two of you. You nod and take a seat across from him, and Gojo first grabs everyone some glasses of water before he takes a seat at the head.

“So,” Higurama starts, “I take it you two are madly in love and would like to enter a marital agreement to declare your affections for one another in the court of law under just circumstances?”

You blink at him. “Y-Yes. Very just circumstances. Nothing shady going on here, we are indeed very madly in love and would like to get married.”

“Why the fuck would you say it like that?” Gojo chirps in but not before sighing.

“T-The way he asked was really nerve wracking!!” you counter. And then your eyes widen when you look at Higurama again, who has a slightly amused tug to his lips. “...oh, you already know this marriage is a fraud.”

“I was just testing you,” he casually says, “in case they mention any suspicions in court. Seems you should just let Satoru do the talking.”

You pout a little and sink further into your seat, then bring the glass of water up to your lips.

“Well, in any case,” Higurama says, and then he goes on into the details of what to expect in the courtroom. He pulls out paperwork for the marriage license application and starts to walk the two of you through the prenuptial agreement.

“It’s my understanding you’re both desiring a prenup for this marriage?” Hugurama asks, brow furrowed slightly as he rustles through the endless papers in front of him that he was drowning in.

You briefly glance at Gojo, who’s also looking through all the papers with a concentrated look on his face, his features tense and he’s slightly worrying his bottom lip through his teeth. He’s thinking way harder about this whole prenup thing than you would, and you realize he’s genuinely taking this very seriously.

“Um, yes,” you acquiesce, suddenly feeling a little guilty. And you remember who’s the one in need of the favor here. “I’m okay with the prenup.”

Higurama tells you two about the implications of the prenup, what can and cannot be included under state laws, and stresses the importance of full financial disclosure and fairness in the agreement to ensure its enforceability in the event of a divorce. Basically, don’t fucking lie about anything or else you two could sue each other to hell for it should divorce occur. You both agree, and you’re feeling sick to your stomach with anticipation.

“Alright,” Higurama interjects your thoughts, “I will begin to draft the document then. Let’s start with assets.”

Gojo drones on about his tangibles, intangibles, cash equivalents, stocks, yada yada and you open up with yours too, but you can barely hear anything you’re saying and you can hardly hear what anyone else is saying either because you’re just dreadfully awaiting for Higurama to finally bring up—

“How about debts?” he asks, mindlessly as he types away on his laptop, as if the question doesn’t make you want to throw up.

Your breathing picks up in speed, and you’re nervously fidgeting your hands over the surface of the table. You glance over at Gojo again, this time startled to find his eyes are on you too. His gaze briefly flickers to the shuffling of your fingers, then it meets yours again as he tilts his head slightly in a silent ask of you good?

“Uh–” you start, when you feel Higurama’s eyes on you too now that the silence has stretched on for too long, “I’m…well, I’m in a bit of…debt. From nursing school, a little bit from undergrad still, actually…”

“Okay,” Higurama says, “how much would you approximate? I’ll need the official loan statements soon, though.”

“Well, I’m paying off slowly…but last month I have around seventy-thousand still to pay off.”

“Alright,” Higurama accepts, “and you, Satoru? Student loans?”

“Oh, I don’t have any,” he says, “I paid them off a while ago.”

You feel like you’re being opened apart at the seams, and suddenly feel ashamed.

“Alright, what about other debts? Credit card debts? Any loans to know about?”

You figured you just needed to rip the bandaid off.

“Um,” you say, “I’m about three hundred thousand dollars in medical debt from my mother’s treatment loans.”

The room goes quiet, there’s no more rustling of papers or the mechanical jumping of keys on a keyboard, hell, even the birds outside stopped chirping to display their disbelief.

“Wha–” Gojo starts, like he can’t help it, before he catches himself out of politeness, but he’s still looking at you with concern and shock. “y/n…what happened?”

You look over at Higurama too, and he’s completely turned away from the document he was drafting on his laptop, full attention on you, and his brow is creased with the same amount of concern. And you feel like you’re in therapy. You also feel like you’re about to cry.

“Well…it’s just,” you start, throat feeling raw, “my mom couldn’t qualify for medical loans because of years of poor credit, and insufficient income, and her cancer treatments became really costly, and so–” you suck a breath in, because your voice cracks slightly at the end. You were not about to cry in front of them right now. “And so I decided to cosign on her loans so she could receive treatment, and stuff kept coming up, and I had to work reduced hours for a couple of years when she was first diagnosed, and…some payments got away from me, and so then…there was interest, and…it’s…I guess over five years, things just…accumulated.”

They both sit there in stunned silence, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, like they understand your situation is so fucked in its entirety that they can barely even bear to put themselves through the trouble of even imagining themselves in your shoes, let alone fathom that you’re living in them.

Higurama clears his throat and redirects his attention to the computer. “That’s… no problem for the prenup. Thank you for being honest.”

“Hey,” Gojo interjects, and his hand reaches out to lay over your fidgeting hands over the table. His eyes are serious. “Why didn’t you–” he starts, and his face softens slightly when you can’t help the small sheen of tears that reaches your eyes, “...why didn’t you say anything about this? I mean, anytime we’ve talked.”

It’s your turn to look at him with a tense expression, and you slowly withdraw your hands from the hold of his palm to place them in your lap under the table. “Uh, why would I share about my financial woes to my neighbor? Don’t most people just act like shit’s normal with their neighbors?”

“I guess, but I didn’t know it was that ba–”

Higurama’s phone starts to ring, and he glances at the Caller ID before sighing slightly. “Sorry, I have another client I need to see soon. We’ll have to wrap this up, but I’ll continue drafting this document. Please send me your relevant statements for any loans and–” he glances at you, “...associated debts.” He starts to gather his things at the table, then neatly tucks his papers into his briefcase before placing his laptop in there too. He reaches to shake Gojo’s hand first, then shakes yours, and holds onto your hand a second longer to gather your attention. His eyes are almost solemn.

“I truly hope your mother gets better soon,” he says to you, tone contrite.

You slowly nod and thank him, and then Gojo goes to see him out the door.

The house feels quiet when Gojo closes the front entrance, and he stays facing the door for a few seconds before slowly turning around to face you, back leaning against it as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off.

“I really–” you say, “...I really don’t want to talk about it.”

His face contorts into confusion, and it looks like he’s about to protest, but you allow yourself to show the slightest amount of the hurt and the worry on your face, and he realizes that means he shouldn’t try to push it.

“Okay,” he says, and quietly.

Things are awkward in the air for a second, so you waltz over to the window and watch through it as Higurama gets into his car, some type of sleek old black Mercedes Benz but it’s polished to perfection, and you let out a content sigh.

“What?” Gojo asks you, tone a little short.

“Ohhh, nothing,” you say, bringing your hands up to cup your cheeks to feel their warmth as you take in the image of Higurama’s slender legs in his business attire, “I just…” you sigh again, “I just loooove men in suits. I wish I knew more men that wore them often.”

A beat of silence. “Um. I wear them often?”

You turn on your heel to face him. “Yeah, but you wear them in, like, a slutty way. Higurama,” you say, pointing with your thumb facing the window, “wears them in the actually respectable workplace way. Hence why it’s hotter on him.”

He scoffs. “And yet you’re always staring at my ass from afar when I’m wearing my tailored trousers.”

“I seriously wonder what it’s like to be so fucking delusional all the time,” you shake your head at him and he looks like he’s got a comeback on his tongue but you sshhhhhhhh him and walk back into the heart of the house. You look over your shoulder briefly, and see Gojo’s standing where you were standing at the window a few seconds ago, looking out onto the street, and he’s grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite hear. And then you hear the sound of Higurama’s car driving away.

You circle around the dining table, and take a seat to look through the marriage paperwork Higurama left behind for the two of you to fill out.

“Bring the paperwork over to the kitchen island,” you hear Gojo say as he makes his way to the kitchen, “I’ll fix us some coffee.”

The island has a seated side to it with bar stools that raise high and turn in fully 360 degree fashion, so you swirl around in your seat to make yourself dizzy while Gojo brews some coffee with his espresso machine.

“Mm…smells nice,” you comment, still swirling.

“Milk? Sugar?” he asks you, and you stop swirling to answer him.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to Gojo’s house. When he first moved in next door, you brought him a plate of cookies as a welcome to the neighborhood! gift and he had invited you inside and fixed you a cup of coffee then too. The house was mostly empty back then, he’s made a lot of good work in filling it with furniture in that sort of IKEA catalog fashion, and you can clown on him for it all you want, but it still looks nicer than most homes you’ve been in. Anyways, you only visited him in his house a couple times after that before you realized you hated him. Because he blasts loud music at the most random times, which you’re convinced he’s just trying to show off the sound system he probably spent an unnecessary amount of money on, not to mention an unnecessary amount of time installing. He also always forgets to mow his fucking lawn, and it drives you nuts because then the weeds spread over into your lawn, but it’s not like it matters because you hardly mow yours either, but still. And that fucking boat. That fucking boat he keeps right at the edge of your driveway that taunts you and your ability to pull into garages after every single one of your dreadful night shifts. One of these days, you might just steal it and drive it into the ocean so it drowns. Wait, boats don’t drown. That’s the point of boats. They’re buoyant. It’s okay, you’ll find another way to get rid of it. The boat, you mean.

“Here you go,” he says, sliding a cup of coffee to you across the island. You peer inside at the brown liquid, and the scent alone awakens your senses.

“So, logistics,” you say.

“Logistics,” he repeats after you as he stirs a spoon in his mug.

“We need to make this believable,” you say to him, “otherwise the marriage could be invalidated, and we could face criminal charges, and I could lose the insurance benefits for my mom, and potentially get sued by said insurance companies, and get thrown into jail for life, and—”

“And how much sleep have you lost thinking about this?” he asks you with a sigh as he brings his mug up to take a sip.

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you say to him, “I…would just rather err on the side of caution. It’s a small town, people talk. And sometimes those people know the law.” You shudder.

“Who the fuck is out there that would be so pissed about us getting married just so you can help out your sick mom?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker downwards slightly in consideration. You can think of one person, at least. And when you look up at him, you’re surprised to see there’s a similar look on his face, as if he could think of a particular one person too. But before you can dwell more on the expression on his face, he grabs the paperwork in front of you and looks through some of it. “You should get started on your paperwork. Higurama filled most of mine out for me already, so you’re the one he’s waiting on.”

You groan and stretch your arm out across the island counter, then lay your head on your upper arm. “Sigh, why couldn’t he have done that for meee tooooo.”

“Probably because he doesn’t know you?” Gojo snorts. He’s silent for a moment as he takes another sip. You can’t see his face. “So,” he starts, “I mean. If we’re going to make this believable, which, to be honest, I don’t think a single person in this neighborhood would find us getting married believable, but still, if we were to try making it believable, wouldn’t it make sense for us to, uh, I don’t know, live together? Like what regular married couples do.”

“I am appalled you would even suggest that.”

“It’s going to look like we’re just faking it if we don’t at least cohabitate together,” he tells you.

“We can’t do that,” you sigh, “I bet you’d try to touch me inappropriately.”

“What???”

“Yeahhh, I don’t know, you just—...you just seem like a guy with very little self control.”

“...y’know what? This is over. I’m calling off this engagement,” he says, and he walks over to the dining table with his coffee cup in hand and you lift your head up off your arm in a panic.

“Wha–...no!! Wait!!” you say, grabbing all the paperwork off the island and bringing it to the dining table where he’s taken a seat. “Please marry me. I need it so bad.”

“Woah,” he says, looking up at you, and there’s a darker glint to his eyes. “You need it so bad? Can you say that again?”

You curl up the papers in your hands into a makeshift hollow pole and whack him across the head with it. “This is exactly why I think you would touch me inappropriately.”

He grumbles slightly as he nurses the spot you whacked him with two of his fingers rubbing the area, and then he fixes his hair with a comb of his hand through it. The sleeve of his shirt drops a little from the movement, and you can see the muscles of his arm flex, then your eyes are quickly darting away so he doesn’t catch the line of your gaze on him. What the fuck. That was weird. You blame ovulation.

“Alright, fine,” he says, and he grabs the papers out of your hand, “also don’t bend these. It bothers me.”

You circle back to the kitchen to grab your abandoned coffee cup, and then bring it to the dining table to sit down with him at it. He places your half of the papers in front of you. You glance down at the first few boxes to fill out, and you already feel like giving up.

You glance up at him for a distraction. “Aren’t you going to ask me how long I want you to be married to me for?” you ask him.

“Uh, how long do you want me to be married to you for?”

“Forever,” you say. To scare him.

“Yeah, right.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively.

You sulk because it didn’t scare him. “Six months.”

“More plausible.”

“Really,” you say earnestly, “six months.”

He looks up at you now, a curious expression on his face. “Why specifically six months?”

Your eyes find the color of your coffee fascinating once again. “I don’t want to put my mother in hospice for too long. I’ll miss her,” you say, “it’s just…something I’m trying out for now. And to just get a bit of a caretaking break, and also so I can pick up more shifts at the hospital to work on paying off my debt. It’s just…temporary.”

His shoulders roll back once and he sits up a little straighter, holding up one of the pieces of paper to study it better while he clicks his pen. “Alright. Whatever works for you.”

You twiddle with your hands again, blinking a little in consideration as a few moments pass by. “Uh…about living together. That’s fine. I suppose.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. But no touching,” you point at him with a strict finger.

He tilts his head back up to the ceiling in annoyance. There’s a roll in the muscles of his throat as his jaw goes slack. You squirm in your chair a little. Ovulation, you think.

“I’m not going to touch you, y/n,” he assures you when his chin tips back down. You just stare at him for a few seconds as he seems to be in thought about something, and then his eyes meet yours. “Whose house are we going to live in?”

“Mine,” you say, “yours looks like a shitty catalog. It’s lame.”

“True,” he says, “yours feels homey. I like that.”

You’re a little taken aback by his words, and then purse your lips together. Your sort of go-to thanks expression reserved for him. “So, are you gonna sell your house then?”

“Huh? No way,” he shakes his head, “I’ll just see if I can rent it out for now.” He shakes his head even more. “I mean, god no, I wouldn’t be caught dead selling a house. Not with these market conditions. You know how much it’s already risen in equity within just the past few months alone? In five years from now—”

While Gojo continues to drone on about the lunacy of not holding onto property in this housing market, your eyes widen slightly at his words, like your body realizes a truth to what he’s saying before your mind does.

And then that’s when it hits you.

How you can help pull yourself out of debt.

You slam your coffee mug down on the table with a little more fierceness than you probably should’ve.

“Hey,” he scolds you, “can you be careful with that?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you say, ignoring him, “we’re gonna live in yours.”

“Huh?” he responds, “...but I thought you said mine looks like a catalog.”

“A shitty catalog.”

“Did you need to specify?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you tell him, with resolve, “because I’m gonna sell my house.”

He sits up a little straighter at your words. “Like, the house next door?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He sighs. “Were you even listening to me? It’s so much more worth it to–”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, “I need the money now. Not five years from now.” Your eyes glance down at your hands, and your tone becomes quiet. “I…I don’t even know if my mom has five years left to live.”

A silence settles in the room, and you see in your periphery that Gojo’s stiff and still, like he’s barely allowing himself to breathe as if you’d find it abrasive, and when you look over at him, his expression is soft.

“I know,” he says. “It sounds like a plan.”

“Will you help me sell it?” you ask him. “I’d…need a realtor.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees.

“Okay…” you say, and take a sip of lukewarm coffee, as if you haven’t just decided on an extremely major life decision. “Um. I’ll go get the paperwork then. From my house.”

“Oh. Right now?” he asks you, and he leans forward in his seat a little to get a closer look at your face. “I mean, don’t you want some time to think about it before putting it on the market? We can wait for a little bit.”

“No. That’s okay,” you say, standing up from your chair, “I’ll…go get the paperwork.”

He nods at you slowly, but his eyes are observant, and you ignore it to keep up the momentum of this decision that was definitely the right decision by all means and one that you should not be hesitating on at all as it is such an epiphany that can help clear your debilitating financial burdens.

“Drive safe,” he says to you when you grab your purse off the coffee table in the family room.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

The outside air is breezy, it’s a nice day with the sun shining down and sparkling off of sprinkler dew drops on overgrown grass, and you hop across with a pep in your step as you make it to your house next door. You’re always quiet when opening the door, because you never know when your mom is sleeping or not, and since her bedroom is downstairs, she’s privy to noises. Once you’re inside, you check to make sure she’s sleeping with a small creak open of her door, only to find that she’s sitting on her rocking chair and looking through a box of paintings.

Your heart twists at the sight, and you gently knock the door with your knuckles.

She glances up at you, and you can always tell from just the look in her eyes if she recognizes you or not. Because they’re warm and gentle when she does, but they see right past you to the wall when she doesn’t.

“Hello,” she says, “can I help you?”

You come up to her and kneel down beside her, placing a hand up on the rocking chair arm rest while she looks down at you.

“Hi, mom. It’s me. Your daughter,” you gentle reintroduce yourself. It’s what her neurologist suggested you do anytime she can’t remember you, but it rips away a piece of your soul each time.

Her eyes still see past you, abstract, empty with no feeling as she wraps her head around your words. “I am no one’s mother,” she tells you, tone sounding sharp and like she’s a moment away from terror.

“That’s okay,” you quickly remediate, feeling hollow inside from her words but you always had to be the sane one, so you direct her attention to the box in her lap. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, I just found these paintings!” she exclaims. “I thought they were wonderful. Do you know who drew them?”

You smile up at her. “You did.”

“Me?” she blinks at you. The wrinkles in her forehead crumple with surprise, “oh, no, dear, I could not paint such things with detail. Look at me!” She holds her hand up. “My hand is trembling!”

She’s getting weaker. You make a mental note to bring it up to her doctor.

“You used to hold a paint brush like it was just an extension of your hand,” you tell her, picking up one of the paintings out of the box, “you were an art teacher, mom.”

“Don’t call me mom,” she says to you, that sharp tone from earlier cutting through to your soul. “I am no one’s mother.” Her eyes shimmer with a light sheen of tears.

You stare at her, brow pinching together with hurt, but you bite back the part of you that wants to beg her to remember you, to take one close look at you, and see you with warmth and not emptiness. But she sees past you all the same.

“Can you do something for me?” you whisper to her.

“Yes?” she asks.

“Could you please lay down? You need some rest.”

“Are you my nurse?” she asks.

You breathe in deep. “Yes.”

“Am I…” she glances briefly at her reflection in the vanity mirror, her eyes flitting up to the head scarf on her head that covers the absence of hair, “am I sick?”

You exhale. “Yes. You need rest.”

“Oh…” she acknowledges, “why, yes. I do feel…a little frail.”

“I know,” you comment, and you put the box down on the floor then help her up onto her feet slowly by holding onto her arm, and you guide her to sit on the bed and take her medications. She then lays down, and you nod at her reassuringly before you head out the door and close it behind you.

Your lip trembles with the threat of a sob as you stare straight forward at the wall in the dimness of the hallway. But a harsh bite to the plush of it ceases the quiver.

You make your way up the stairs to go grab that binder you had with the mortgage and house information, plus some of your recent utility bills. Except the binder is hard to locate, and you’re rummaging through the cabinets in your closet, the drawer of your nightstand, you’re even looking underneath the bed. But when you lift your head up from under it, still kneeling on the carpet, and glance at the wall, you notice something.

48’’ eight yrs. what a big girl!

46’’ seven yrs. big jump

41’’ six yrs.

37’’ five yrs. my little princess

…

–all written in graphite pencil, scribbled up the wall where you would stand tall against as a kid, your mom marking your height at every birthday. And your eyes start to well with tears.

This was your childhood home. With magical corners tucked away where you used to play hide and seek with your dad, with your old bedroom you used to play in with dolls and have tea parties with all your stuffed animals. There’s still a stain of fruit juice on the carpet underneath the rug that you never told your mom about because you knew she would be mad at you and would scrub it out, but it was in the shape of a heart and when you were a kid, you thought that meant you would find your prince charming some day. This house holds so many memories, like birthday parties and Christmas Eve and the sunflower patch in the backyard where you laid Sniffles to rest.

And it holds the familiarity of you that seems to be slipping through your mother’s fingers with each passing day, all those memories you created with her now solely yours to keep and no longer to share. But you realize at this moment that you’re not alone. This house still holds those memories with you.

Your eyes flicker to the graphite pencil marks on the wall again, and the tears flow freely.

In the moments where she cannot remember that you are her baby, this house remembers for her.

Your sleeve wipes at the dampness on your cheeks.

But it’s never enough, is it? And it’s never that easy, either. Life was never that easy, and you don’t always have the choices you might think you do.

You find the binder, and grab all the utility bills too, and head downstairs. You pass by your mother’s room with softness and sleuth, and guilt in your heart when you realize what you’ve chosen to do. There’s no pep to your step when you make it back to Gojo’s.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sooo,” Gojo says, after about twenty minutes of looking through all the house paperwork in the binder at the dining table, “your mom transferred ownership of the house to you as a gift deed when she was diagnosed?”

“Mhm,” you say.

“She paid off quite a bit of it,” he comments as he looks through banking statements, “but still not enough to pay off your medical debt, unfortunately.”

You sigh. “I know. It was never really a house she could afford anyways. She just received it from the divorce, and I remember we were supposed to downsize, but…she didn’t want to.”

“I see,” Gojo comments, “well, it’s alright, it would still help you a lot for sure. How many years are left for your solar panel lease?” He has a pen in hand and a custom realtor notepad in front of him with his messy handwriting all over it.

“It’s new,” you say, “still got thirty years left.”

“Jeez, okay. How much per month?”

You scavenge through the bills on your table. “Ummm um um ummm…….”

“You should really…get more organized.”

“You should really mind your fucking business.” You find the bill. “$285 per month.”

“Okay,” he scribbles it down, “does it offset your electricity bill?”

Your shoulders sulk. “A little bit.”

“Yeah, it might scare some buyers away.”

You sigh. “Oh and then the HOA too.”

“HOA?” he looks up at you with a puzzled expression on his face. “We don’t have an HOA in this neighborhood.”

“We don’t?” you blink at him. “Then who have I been sending $195 dollars to every month?”

“…….....you’ve seriously gotta be some special kind of stupid.”

After panicking for five minutes while checking your credit cards for fraudulent activity, Gojo gets done cutting up an apple for you.

“Here,” he says, sliding the plate to you, “since you look like you’re about to faint. Knowing you, it’s probably just low blood sugar.”

You dramatically sigh and sink in your chair. “I can’t believe I spent the last three years paying an HOA that doesn’t even exist…”

“Hey, on the bright side, there’s some dude out there on an exotic vacation that’s very thrilled by your idiocracy right now.”

You shoot him a look. And then you hang your head low to drink your extremely cold coffee that you were still nursing, before downing it all in one go. Your eyes catch the marriage paperwork that Gojo was reviewing earlier, and you see Higurama’s pre-filled in information that he typed onto the papers before printing them for him.

“Hm,” you hum, “it says here that you’ve been married before. You might want to get that fixed before we submit these.”

He stands up from the table, two of his fingers hooking onto the handle of his coffee cup, and he glances into yours to make sure it’s empty, briefly flicking his eyes to you and you shake your head for no, no more coffee, thanks before he wraps his other two fingers around the handle of your mug as well. The clink of the two porcelain mugs in his hand startles you a little as he walks past you to the kitchen sink. “There’s nothing to fix about that,” he says, his tone level and easy, “it’s true. I’ve been married before.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you quickly twist your torso in your chair to stare at him. Or at least, the back of him as he turns the faucet on and begins to rinse out coffee mugs.

Married? Before? There are so many questions swimming through your head right now, ones that you desperately want answers to, biggest of all perhaps being now who the fuck would actually want to marry him??? for real??? you’re telling me this self obsessed dork proposed to a real life woman with a pulse and she actually said ‘yes’ to him??? who was this woman, and which psych ward did he find her from???

But he’s so quiet from where he stands, broad shoulders less pushed back like they usually are, and something tells you he wouldn’t entertain any of those questions from you right now. A glance at the paperwork, though, tells you the divorce was recent. Less than a year ago. Around the time he moved in next door.

He still has his back facing you, and you try to sneakily catch a glimpse at more info under the Wife section on the prior marriages form. You can see the paper says maiden name: Inoue and you’re just about to sneak a peak at the first name when—

“You want to stay for dinner?” he asks when he turns around, leaning back against the sink counter. “I’m ordering pizza tonight.”

You’re surprised by the sudden invitation, and shuffle the papers over one another again. “Oh–that’s…that’s okay.” You glance at the clock he has hanging on the wall. “I’ve got work in a couple of hours, so…I should really get going. Have a few errands to run before then.”

“Okay, so, we’ll…talk later?”

“Yeah, later,” you stand up from your chair, and for some reason, the air feels a little heavier to you now. “Uh…” you start, awkwardly scoffing a little, “wow. Bachelor life again, then, huh? Probably just–...probably just beer and pizza every night?”

He purses his lips together, humoring you with a small laugh that comes out as a scoff through his nostrils. “No. Not really. I only order pizza when I close a sale on a house. My way of celebrating.”

“Oh,” you respond, “I see.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says.

“I live next door,” you remind him.

His eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Right.”

“H-Hope the traffic’s not too bad!” you joke.

His laugh comes more genuine now. “You’re stupid.”

You head towards the door, and when he opens it for you, there’s a chill of air outside and it’s darker now, hues of dark gray, purple and a slight orange still present on the horizon paint the sky and you step outside then turn on your heel to face him.

“Um. Congrats, by the way. On the sale,” you tell him, “enjoy your night. And I’ll see you this weekend?”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “What’s happening this weekend?”

“We–” you scoff, “we’re getting married this weekend?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, tense, “right, yes, see you this weekend. For marriage. Of us.”

You roll your eyes and make your way down the concrete pavement that leads its way to his house, and leads its way away from it too. And when you walk back to your house, it’s not with a sulk, but it’s not with a pep in your step either. You just feel…neutral.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“So, tell me about this fake husband of yours,” Hana says, leaning against your work-on-wheels as you attempt to catch up on charting notes with 4 hours and 15 minutes and 53 seconds left on your shift (it’s not like you were counting though).

“Yeah, in a sec,” you mumble as you punch in keys.

6/2/2024 0344: patient placed on 5150 hold on 5/31 at 1745, continually monitored by ED tech. all objects have been removed from pt’s room to prevent any danger to self or others. however patient accessed hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall at roughly 0320 and ingested all the hand sanitizer. notified MD of toxic ingestion, follow up plan is to coordinate care with poison control. no further orders at this time

“Okay, what were you saying?” you look up at Hana again and rub the tired out of your eye with a balled up hand, along with all the mascara.

“Your fake husband!! Tell me about him!!” she chirps, shaking your work-on-wheels in excitement and the blur of your computer screen makes you feel dizzy.

“Shhhhh,” you hiss at her, “keep your voice down when we discuss illegal activities.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why are you always so paranoid? I’m already sick and tired of you charting incessantly every five seconds to save yourself from medical lawsuits that you haven’t even been accused of.”

“In a medical lawsuit, the chart is the law, Hana,” you say eerily with a shiver, and her words remind you to continue your detailed charting. “Never forget that.”

She sighs. Her gaze travels across to the other end of the emergency department, and you assume she’s staring at the asses of the EMT boys again, so you glance over your shoulder too.

Except instead, you see the worst person on the planet.

Well, second worst as of right now.

The worst person title was reserved for someone else.

Approaching from down the hall is Yuna, your ex-best friend, a bounce in her step as she walks with a sort of allure as her hips rock side to side, her mile-high ponytail swaying in beat with the rhythm as well, and the ashy blond highlights in her hair hypnotize anyone she waltzes by.

She was the kind of nurse that all the other nurses are jealous of. Always has cute little accessories and stickers on their badge, is wearing the fancy FIGS scrub sets that hug her sporty curves in all the right places, paired with those little shoes with the ankle socks, and she most definitely gets her water goal in for the day because she’s always sucking on the straw of her periwinkle Stanley cup around the ED all night just like she sucked the cum out of your boyfriend of seven years just twenty-four hours after the two of you had broken up–

“y/n,” she casually calls your name, leaning her elbow up on the cubicle divider of the nursing station. “It’s time for you to take your break. I’ll watch your patients.”

“I’m not taking my break,” you say, trying to relax the grit to your teeth which makes your eye twitch out of frustration instead. “Now get the fuck away from me before I call a Code Black.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes and smacking loudly on her gum. “Yaga said you have to take your thirty tonight. Something about how you haven’t clocked out for a break in more than two months and the hospital could get sued for that.”

“The hospital has way bigger cases they should be biting their nails about getting sued over,” Hana snorts just to butt in on conversation.

“C’mon,” Yuna says, her fingers reaching out to touch the handle of your work-on-wheels, purposefully stretched so that you can eye the perfect sparkly manicure to her nails. You curl your fingers into the skin of your palms to hide your gel polish that’s long started to scrape off. “Go clock out.”

“I’d rather die than listen to a single fucking thing you tell me to do,” you tell her, plain and simple.

“y/n!” a loud masculine voice calls from the other end of the Emergency Department, and all three of you visibly shrink a little in your stances out of fear. Head nurse Yaga. “Take your break, or I’ll be damned to let you set another foot in this hospital!!” he’s yelling at you all the way from the entrance to the CT scanner.

“But–”

“Now!!!!!”

Your eyes flicker to Yuna, who has an amused look on her face and a tilt to her head, and then you’re grumbling before logging out of your computer then stepping away from it. “Draw a CBC & chem on Beds 24 and 28 at 4 AM sharp,” you grumble to her, and she just gives you one of those tight-skinned smiles.

The break room is empty, with shades of beige on the walls and even more depressing shades of gray on the lockers. There are all sorts of things pasted on the walls, like photos from staff Halloween and Christmas parties, drawings that pediatric patients have made in appreciation of their nurses, and employee information that Yaga’s constantly shoving in everyone’s faces.

Okay, the backstory with Yuna. Pretty simple. You two had been best friends since high school, like inseparable best friends. Y’know, sneaking out late at night to use fake IDs at the bar, cover for the other when you’re busy losing your virginity to your high school boyfriend in the most dishonorable way possible, rooming together in college, sobbing and crying through all of nursing school together, ride or die type of friendship that you think you’d only find once in a lifetime. Except turns out your best friend, who you’d considered a sister, had eyes for your boyfriend since you started dating him in college, and the second that dickwad dumped you, you catch her sucking him off in the back of his Toyota Camry when you go to pick your stuff up from his place. Yeah, ouch. You lost the two closest people in your life, all in the matter of twenty-four hours, so pardon yourself for being a bit bitter about it.

But being bitter is the coping mechanism. The real way you feel comes in the form of tears prickling in your eyes and the pain in your throat as you try to swallow away the knot that’s suffocating you from the inside out. A type of loneliness that leaves you stranded even in a room full of people. But at the very least, this room is empty, so no one has to see the crack in your resolve.

There’s no time on a thirty-minute lunch break to have a full mental breakdown, so you sparsely wipe at your tears and head back to your shift.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

If you want to know who actually holds the worst person on the planet title right now, well, you run into him on a Tuesday afternoon while on a grocery run after you just woke up from barely sufficient post night shift sleep. Bitter and drugged by Melatonin was not a state of being you needed to be in right now, but you’re out of orange juice and you’re having Vitamin C withdrawals which warrants a trip to the store. Unfortunately, the town only has one grocery store, which means you were bound to run into pestering ex-boyfriends at least once every full moon.

“Get the fuck out of my way, Choso,” you snarl at the man who’s walking backwards ahead of your grocery cart, trying to stop you in your tracks so you’d just chill out and listen to him for a second.

“Can you just chill out and listen to me for a second?” he asks you, irritation evident in his voice like you’re being the difficult one here.

“I already told you that I quite literally never want to see your stupid ugly face ever again for as long as I live,” you say, and you ram your grocery cart forward with so much force the metal hits his knees and he doubles over the basket indignantly with a groan.

He seems like he’s had enough of you evading him, so he jams his foot under the wheel to keep you from moving forward, and you’re scowling at him and struggling against his foot-stop but to no avail.

You briefly consider abandoning your cart all together and just bee-lining for the exit, but he’s a cop, so he’d easily be able to tackle you to the ground if you tried.

“What do you want?” you snarl, impatiently tapping your foot with every miserable passing second spent in his presence.

“I just–” He sighs, “I just want to talk. And to know how you’re doing. You won’t pick up any of my calls.”

“Huh?” You blink at him. “I’ve had you blocked for the past two weeks. You shouldn’t even be able to call me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?...who have I been dialing then?”

“Fuck if I know,” you shrug, and you use his moment of confusion to swerve your cart off to the side and make your way down the refrigerator aisle. Ohhh, dulce de leche gelato sounds nice, and it’s on sale. You grab a jar.

Choso’s trailing behind you as you eye price tags and sale signs in the open chill of the yogurt section. “Babe–”

“Don’t–” you immediately cut him off, spinning fast on your heel and he stops himself just in time from crashing right into you. You hold your index finger up in the air between the two of you with a clench to your jaw so tight it feels sore, and through gritted teeth you say, “don’t call me babe.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s habit.”

Indeed, habit. Seven years of him calling you babe, or baby, or boobie (idk don’t ask). Your favorite though? Babydoll. He’d always call you that when he’d make sweet, sweet love to you while you were wearing his favorite flimsy little piece of lingerie–babydolls. Even now, the memories have your cheeks feeling hot. But he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore, and he doesn’t get to fuck you anymore, or talk to you anymore, or breathe in your general direction anymore, because he betrayed you. He wasted your time, and then he betrayed you.

Seven years of your sexual prime, where you could’ve been fucking hunky firefighters and bisexual Europeans, wasted on a man you weren’t even going to marry in the end anyways. Now you’re pushing thirty, and the idea of having to date again makes your skin crawl with anxiety that turns into fury because your doom is all caused by the man in front of you.

Whatever, forget about the sex and the impending loss of a woman’s novelty within society for a second. You loved him. A part of you still loves him. You wanted to marry this man. You thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with this man. Little sheriff deputy’s wife, Mrs. Kamo, the perfect number of letters to get on a bejeweled license plate. You had envisioned all the cute little quotes of adoration that would be imprinted on your wedding reception’s custom-made doily napkins with everyone that’s ever meant anything to you sitting at the table, ready to celebrate the love that you thought was real and true and brave and strong and one that would last forever.

But he abandoned you when you were at your lowest. And he fell into the arms of the one person you thought you could turn to crying when the relationship crashed and burned in the first place. And the problem with living in a small town is that everyone knows everybody’s business, so now you’re just the woman that wasted her youth on a man that played her like a broken fiddle. Utterly heartbroken, and humiliated.

So, yeah, he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore.

“Listen here, asshole,” you say, stabbing him in the chest with your finger, so he can feel even a fraction of the pain you’ve felt in the past three weeks, “I couldn't care less if you live today, or die tomorrow. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me alone. Or I’ll file for a restraining order.”

“Really?” he says, brows pulled tight together in disbelief, like he just can’t understand what he’s done to make you act this way, and quite frankly, that only makes it sting even worse, “after everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to throw away the past seven years?”

“What the fuck are you saying?!” you all but snap at him, and an elderly couple that’s passing by flinches a little from the noise and you wince in apology before glaring at Choso again. Your voice is hushed this time. “You’re the one that broke up with me, but I’m the one that’s throwing it all away??”

He purses his lips together, and you notice how dark the circles under his eyes are. He shuts them tightly and leans back away from you, which makes you realize how much he was leaning into your space just a second ago. “I know that we…aren’t dating anymore. But, I mean, c’mon, y/n, it’s me. Just because we’re not together anymore, doesn’t mean that I don’t still…care. I want to know how your mom’s doing, and how treatment has been for her, and–” he glances up at the ceiling briefly, as if to mislead you into thinking that the next thing he says is just as nonchalantly desired as the other things he listed, “and I want to know how you’re doing, too.”

“You don’t deserve to know how I’m doing. Continue to wallow in your pathetic self righteousness, or go run with your tail between your legs to that two-faced rat I used to call a best friend. Either way, I don’t give a damn,” you say, in a way that very much sounds like you give a damn unfortunately, and spin on your heel to continue pushing your cart down to the juice section.

“Yuna and I–” you hear him say behind you, and just the mention of her name on his tongue makes your heart ache in your chest, to the point you need to place a flat palm over it just to alleviate the pain, “I–...I broke things off with her yesterday.”

Fuck. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info.

“Okay? Whatever,” you barely manage to say.

He’s silent for a moment behind you. The wheels of your cart squeak as they roll.

“I mean, we’re not together anymore. I’m not seeing her anymore,” he clarifies, as if he didn’t believe you heard him right the first time.

“Cool,” you comment, tone colder this time, since you had the practice round.

“You don’t–” Choso starts, a rattle of hurt and confusion in his voice, “you don’t care about that?”

“Nope.”

He reaches out to grab your wrist, and the contact burns through your skin, like something so familiar yet so foreign. You turn your head to look at him.

“I…” he starts, and you can see his chest rising and falling with more intensity. Oh god. Please. Please don’t say it. You’re not sure you can handle hearing it. “I really miss you.”

Damn it, he said it.

Your posture relaxes slightly when you take a long look at him. You finally notice his hair has gotten longer in just the three weeks you’ve been apart, layered locks curling at the end of his neck, and it’s the first time you’ve noticed such a small detail because you were so used to spending everyday with him. He spent most of the week at your house, since the two of you could never formally move in with one another after your mother was diagnosed and it was easier for him to come by to yours so you could continue to keep an eye on her. There’s no option to live on your own and start your own life when you’re taking care of someone sick. They become your priority, not yourself, but you’d still make every single sacrifice you’ve made for your mother over and over again in a heartbeat if you had to relive the past five years.

But that meant that you never had a real and true chance to live the life that you wanted with Choso. A place just for the two of you, lived in intimate solitude and not with the cries of your mother down the hall when she feels too sick to get up out of bed or when she cannot remember her own name. But you had never been this far apart from him to where you notice his hair is an inch longer than it was the last time you saw him. He was never that far away, as he is now. And you’ve just now realized it.

“I don’t,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat and your voice quivers ever so slightly when you speak, “I don’t care that you miss me.” You take a deep breath. “I’m getting married this weekend.”

His face entirely relaxes, like a calm before the storm, before it twists with so much confusion and incredulity and shock and–was that horror on his face?

“What?” he practically spats out, “it’s only been three weeks since we broke up!”

“Uhh,” you glance up at the ceiling of the store, just in time for an employee to make an announcement on the overhead for a manager at checkout lane 2 please, and then you glance back down at him, “I was having an affair while we were dating.” An easy lie.

He scowls. “Yeah fucking right. There’s no way you’d cheat on me.”

His words burn bitter. The fact that he couldn’t even fathom you hurting him the same way he hurt you makes you clench your teeth. Because he knew you were better than he was, and that you were too good for him, and yet he still wasted your honor.

His friends, who used to be yours too, have probably fed him lies since the breakup. Like it’s okay, man. You broke up with her before you got involved with someone else. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But you say bullshit to all of that. Because after seven years of being together, you can’t just cold turkey a relationship like that to sleep with someone else, and then claim it’s not cheating. Technicalities like that were no vindication if the betrayal hurt all the same in the end. Because it still felt like you got cheated on regardless.

“Whatever. I don’t need to explain myself to you,” you tell him, “I’m getting married this weekend, so I really don’t give a damn about anything between us anymore. It’s over.”

“Who are you marrying?” he asks, suddenly breaking a sweat over the news like he’s starting to suspect you’re actually being serious.

“My neighbor.”

His face twists with disgust. “Old man Jenkins? He’s eighty-four years old.”

You roll your eyes. “Not the one on my left, you idiot. My neighbor to my right.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up in a ridiculing smirk, and the sight of it makes your skin crawl. He scoffs. “There’s no way. You hate that guy.”

“It’s true. I’m marrying him.”

“Seriously??” He guffaws at you, leaning in closer to you and you lean away until your back is resting on the handle of your shopping cart. “The obnoxious realtor I once heard you talking in your sleep about how much you want to murder him and then dump him in a lake?”

“What?! I talk in my sleep?!” you gasp.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You have for years.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?!”

He looks annoyed. “Because you’re such a hypochondriac. You would’ve thought you had a brain tumor or something, and I’d have to deal with the paranoia that follows suit.”

“Choso,” you say to him with a strict tone, jutting your hip out to the side in preparation to scold, “my mother has Alzheimer’s, which is genetic, and I was having an abnormal neurological symptom for years which has studies to show is an early indication of dementia and you just chose not to tell me because you didn’t want to be annoyed?!”

“See?” he gestures to you, “you’re doing it right now. How did we go from just sleep talking to ‘I might have dementia’?”

“We,” you point between you and him, “are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever getting back together. If there’s one thing you can pull through that stupid skull of yours, make it that.”

“Excuse me,” you hear a tiny voice squeak out, and you turn to your right to see a little kid trying to push past the two of you to grab a box of GoGurt in the Yogurt section. You move your cart forward by bumping it with your butt to get out of the kid’s way, and Choso circles around to the front of your cart before you start moving forward again. Like he’s literally stopping you from moving on from him.

“You’re lying about marrying this guy,” Choso says like it’s a fact. In typical cop gaslighting fashion. “You’re just saying that to make me jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m just that hot and gorgeous that I made a man fall in love with me in three weeks.”

“He’s in love with you?” he asks.

“Duh, he wants to marry me. When you dumped me, I found comforting solace in my next-door-neighbor, and we fell into bed with one another, and now he feels the obligation to provide for me for the rest of my life. What’s so hard to believe about that? You didn’t find abrupt matrimony odd when we binged all three seasons of Bridgerton two months ago.”

“That show is set in the fuckin’ regency era,” he hisses at you, “look around. There’s plastic bags of Hot Cheetos with Red 40 in them everywhere. Does this look like the 1800s to you?”

You have to be careful with him. He’s a cop, who could arrest you for medical insurance fraud, and would also have a personal vendetta against your marriage because boo hoo he misses you. But yes, he was right, you did want to make him jealous, and you just can’t help it.

“Well, me and him have a love that no one else can understand, so suck it. I’m marrying him, and he’s super into me, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me, and he desperately wants to put babies in me, and–”

“And where’s the ring he gave you, then?”

Fuck. You briefly flick your gaze down to your left hand and note the daunting absence of a shiny diamond on your ring finger. Note to self, Gojo needs to buy you a ring.

“I left it at home,” you mumble.

“Uh-huh, as all newly engaged women who have been waiting for a ring all their life would do.”

That pisses you off. Because you were waiting your whole life for him to put a ring on your finger, and he never did.

“Go fuck a fleshlight,” you snarl at him, unfortunately in earshot of the GoGurt kid and his mom shoots you a nasty look, but you’re a jaded woman after everything you’ve been through and you ram your cart into Choso so hard you swear you could’ve cracked his knee caps, and he doubles over in enough pain for you to have the time to leave him stranded there as you push your cart all the way to the end of the store.

You finally make it to the orange juice section, the one thing you needed, although your cart is filled with things you didn’t need, because that’s always how these grocery runs go. You try to take a few breaths to calm down the fast beating in your heart after that confrontation with Choso. You’re not good with confrontation, even though it might seem like you are, but you’re just putting on a face. Acting strong, when really all you want to do is curl up into a ball and cry. But there are bills to pay, and images to upkeep, and orange juice to replenish.

Your hand reaches out for the handle on the refrigerator door, but just before you curl your fingers around it, another hand beats you to it. It’s a large and masculine hand, with veins disappearing into the cuffed felted fabric of a suit jacket, and the knuckles turn a shade lighter than the olive skin around them when the fingers flex around the handle.

You glance up at the person standing next to you, who you register towers over you in height. He has long, sleek black hair that shimmers under fluorescent lighting, some of which is tied up and out of his face, while the rest cascades over his back. But there’s tendrils of hair falling over the left side of his face, barely distracting you through the intensity of purple in his eyes when he glances at you.

“Ah, apologies,” he says, and the way he speaks is so calm and gentle, different from the intimidating aura he holds himself with. He retreats his hand from the handle.

“Oh, that’s–” you find yourself stuttering, “...that’s okay.” You grab the handle and open it, the chill rush of the fridge hitting you as your eyes peruse the selection of orange juice cartons while his eyes remain on you. You awkwardly glance at him again. “Sorry, d-did you also need to get orange juice?”

He nods. “Yes, I did.”

Not a man of many words, you think to yourself. Or maybe just around people he’s just met.

Your eyes catch the familiar labeling of your go-to orange juice, the one with no pulp and has added Vitamins D and E (basically the one for children), but you realize there’s only one left. You grab it anyway and put it in your cart. When you glance up at the handsome stranger beside you, there’s a slight look of amusement on his face.

“Seems we both have the same taste in orange juice,” he comments.

“Oh no,” you say with a small laugh, “I’m sorry. It’s the last one.” Your eyes widen. “You–…you can have it, if you want–”

“Oh, no, no,” he shakes his head, long hair swaying with the motion as he holds his hands up in front of himself, “please. I will just find a nearby store.”

You tilt your head. “Oh there’s no other stores nearby…unless you get on the highway for at least twenty minutes. It’s a…small town.”

His lax expression finally cracks into one of subtle surprise. “That’s interesting.”

“Are you…new to town?” you ask.

He nods with a small smile on his face. “Indeed. Well, just visiting. I’m from New York.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s a long way from here.” You briefly register that he does look like a city man. Upscale restaurants, skyline views, premium outlets. The subtle fragrance of his cologne smells expensive too. “What are you up to while visiting?” You mentally facepalm yourself for asking personal questions, but he seems mysterious and you like peeling the layers back on people like him.

His expression drops, turning almost solemn and his eye contact that was previously very direct is suddenly averted elsewhere, “Just…visiting some old friends.” There is no elaboration.

“Ahh…I see,” you say, picking up on the hint that he has no more words to give you. “Well…I’ll be taking the orange juice…maybe try one with pulp?” you suggest a little cheekily.

His lips tug upwards in a lopsided smile, one you’d call a smirk if you weren’t so mesmerized to define it as one, “I’ll think about it.”

You hum slightly in polite acknowledgement of him, then push your cart back towards the heart of the store without a word of goodbye.

Odd stranger, who’s good at giving misleading answers. You wonder what life he’s come here to escape.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a bright, picturesque Sunday morning, with children laughing and squealing out on the streets in front of your house as they ride their scooters up hot pavement while their parents catch up on PTA drama on the lawns. You’re standing in front of your full length mirror, trying on dress #3 for your little meeting with the courthouse today. And by little meeting, you mean your wedding. You’re getting married today.

The dress you have on falls to below your knees and has buttons all the way from the hem right up to the base of your neck, where the collared neckline wraps around you like a noose. Suffocating, way too prim and proper, although it’d make your grandma very happy and adored to see you should you show up to church service in it.

Your bed is cluttered with clothes you’ve thrown across it as you try to find a good dress. Your hands move with impatience as you skim through the rack of your closet for another dress to try on, since you’re starting to push the time a little too much. You’ve only got ten minutes before you need to leave.

A dress tucked in the corner of your closet catches your eye and you pull it out. It’s a cream-colored milk maid dress with an underskirt to puff out the A-line silhouette, length down to your shins that would be oh-so-flattering with a cute pair of heels. There are small red flowers adorning the pattern, with tiny green leaf details as well. It was cute and sweet and feminine, something you haven’t worn in a long time unlike your usual monotonous hospital scrubs, stained sweatpants and adult onesies.

It was the dress your friend Sana convinced you to buy when you thought you were going to get engaged. In the first two years of your relationship with Choso, you two talked about marriage non-stop. You both had just graduated college when you first started dating, and it felt like your lives were finally starting. At the end of the second year you two had been together for, after Christmas dinner with your family, he pulled you into his arms and you squealed with glee as he spinned you around in your childhood bedroom upstairs and told you how much he wanted to marry you, and that he was going to propose in the new year.

Your mother was diagnosed with cancer in January, and he never brought up marriage ever again.

He still stayed with you for five years after that though, and swiftly dodged every single question you ever asked him about his impending proposal. For five years, you were fed every excuse in the book. And in hindsight, you feel like an idiot for staying, and for still holding out hope, when what you were really holding onto was heartbreak. The feeling of not being enough, like someone was just tolerating you, and not loving you. It was easy to ignore at times, given how occupied you were with driving your mother to chemotherapy appointments and reading up on books about which diet works best to slow down the development of Alzheimer’s because your mother started showing signs of dementia just two months after the cancer diagnosis. But in those moments of freedom, where you had a moment to breathe, all you could breathe was a suffocating smoke. Because you stopped feeling wanted or loved in between all of it.

But there was a trip he planned for the two of you to Greece. It was after your mother had first successfully gotten into remission. A gasp of fresh air amongst all the pain and suffering, and you could only assume that he wanted to celebrate by taking you on a trip. Sana was convinced he was going to propose to you on this trip, and you wondered if maybe he was just waiting until your mother felt better before he proposed so that the two of you could enjoy being newly engaged without the pressure or worry. Sana took you shopping, and you bought this dress, one that clings to your form in a way that made you feel beautiful. Made you feel wanted. Made you feel worthy of being loved. Because all other parts of yourself had been overlooked and paid no attention, but you thought a dress could save you.

He never proposed. You left Greece with an extra suitcase of souvenirs, but without a ring on your finger or even a compliment on how beautiful you should’ve looked to him standing there on that beach with this cream-colored dress on, arm wrapped around his. And it was at that point you became numb, and you existed in limbo for the remaining four years of your relationship. Until he finally did what you silently begged him to do, with every sullen look in your eyes when you glanced at him. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, what he did to you. Something you willed him into because you didn’t have the strength to leave, and so he had to.

You hold the dress up to your form in the mirror. It’d still fit you, and it’s far too pretty to have only worn once. But you’ve been numb for so long now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to feel pretty in a dress. You unbutton yourself out of dress #3 and step into failed proposal dress #4, and as you slowly zip up the back of the dress, you’re met with resistance.

Fuck.

The last thing you need right now is a weight-related meltdown.

You tug up on the zipper even more, harshly, to the point you hear a stitch rip and you gasp and try to do it slowly so as not to completely tear the dress apart. But it’s not fitting. It should fit. You just assume the zip is stuck, or it’s too rigid after years of no wear.

You’re about to do another colossal yank upwards that could potentially dislocate your shoulder when you jump at the sound of your phone chiming with a notification. And then multiple.

“What...the hell…do you want…” you sigh to nobody, swiping your hands across the pile of dress fabric on your bed to find your phone, and when you do, you quickly tap on the screen to see the messages.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Hey, are we still getting married today?

First of all, wild fucking thing to nonchalantly ask.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Your car’s still parked out front, so I wasn’t sure if you’ve left yet. I was just about to leave, and then the thought occurred to me that we should probably carpool?

|| 11:35AM neighbor (avocado tree): But just wanted to verify, are you sure you want to go through with this? You’re not having cold feet? Won’t be a runaway bride? I’m not gonna be left at the altar, wondering where I went wrong?

You roll your eyes, breathing heavily still from the struggle of zipping up your dress.

|| 11:36AM You: yes, we are still getting married. I just can’t zip up my dress for the life of me

It takes him a whole minute to respond.

|| 11:38AM neighbor (avocado tree): Do you need help?

You blink at your phone screen. Help? What kind of help? Helping you zip up your dress?

You look over your shoulder to the full length mirror, eyeing your back. The dress was zipped up to just above the small of your back, with the rest of it flayed open to reveal the expanse of your skin. Setting your phone down, you roll your shoulders back once and flex your fingers to try again in securing this dress, but to no avail. You curse yourself for not having the flexibility, and to be honest, you’re not even sure if you can take the dress off anymore to get into something else with the way the zipper won’t budge neither up nor down. Well. You’re just going to have to wear this dress for the rest of your life now. A scary predicament.

You pick your phone up again.

|| 11:41AM You: yes

It only takes about two minutes for him to text you that he’s at your front door, a surprisingly considerate gesture considering your mother is sleeping downstairs so it’s good he didn’t ring the doorbell, and you tiptoe your way down and over the creaky floorboards of the stairs to the front entrance.

You slowly crack the door open only a couple inches, hiding yourself from him behind it as you peek at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, and he glances at his watch. “We’ve got to hurry.”

You nod, and take note of his appearance. He’s wearing a dark fitted navy suit over a white dress shirt, which to your surprise, doesn’t have the top two buttons sluttily undone for once. His suit pants are perfectly tailored to his ankles and you can barely see the exposed fabric of black socks before they disappear into his polished Oxfords. He looks like he’s going to a wedding. Oh wait, he is.

He raises an eyebrow at you when you refuse to reveal yourself by stepping away from behind the door. Even his hair is particularly kept and proper, swept off to the side slightly in a way that makes him look younger and you feel nervous from the intensity of those eyes, which are usually somewhat hidden by the fringe of his snowy hair, now look at you unwaveringly with no obstruction. You feel like you’re seeing him in a completely new light, and for some reason, it makes you cower behind the door even more.

“Uh, are you going to let me in?” he asks you, his foot tapping lightly on the welcome! mat.

“Yes,” you say, but you make no movement to prove your word.

“y/n,” he says, “we need to get going.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the stained glass window of your front door to release some nerves before hesitantly stepping to the side and pulling the door open all the way, then you’re standing in front of him in full view. You catch a glimpse of the black tie hanging from his neck that’s secured all the way up to the collar of his shirt, before you finally look at his face.

Those striking eyes of his round slowly until he’s looking at you wide-eyed, blinking in some sort of dazed surprise as his gaze eventually sweeps down your entire form to take in the sight of you standing barefoot on wooden floor in your cream-colored dress, and you swear you see the muscles in his jaw jump. His brow furrows like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You–” he starts, that shocked blinking still taking place on his face, and you grasp the fabric of your dress in front of you from the anticipation of what he’ll say, “...you look beautiful.”

A silence settles between the two of you as he continues to roam his eyes all down you like there’s nothing that could stop him from doing it, and you feel heat in your cheeks from his compliment. It’s just a silly little cream-colored dress. One that didn’t look pretty on a beach in Greece, so why would it look beautiful on you here right now? While you’re standing at the dusty front entrance of a decades old house? He’s bullshitting you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me, you know that, right?” you squeak out, trying to keep your tone level and easy to fight back the raw feeling in your throat, “this isn’t a first look. There are no photographers around to capture your reaction. We’re not actually getting married.”

“But–”

“Can you just help me with the dress?” you cut him off so he doesn’t say anything else that makes you feel pretty right now.

“...sure,” he agrees, and he steps inside your house. You start to walk upstairs, and he follows suit, and you suddenly feel his eyes on your back so you turn around and walk up the stairs backwards while facing him.

“I don’t understand the concept of first looks anyway,” he says out of nowhere to cut the silence, “isn’t it a bad omen to see your partner before getting married?”

“That’s such an outdated superstition,” you tell him as your feet finally press firmly flat at the top of the stairs.

One of his feet is placed next to where you’re standing up straight at the top, while the other is still on the third step down. And it’s like he’s kneeling on one knee in front of you as he looks up at you. After a moment of deep breathing on your part, you finally step away from the top of the stairs so he can finish walking up them too.

“I don’t know what happened,” you say to him as you make it to the front of your full length mirror, “I was just trying to zip it up but it got stuck. And it’s not unzipping either.”

He comes up behind you, and you can see in the mirror that he’s put a decent amount of space between the two of you from the way his arms are reached out in front of him just to access the zipper. He tugs up on it.

“Hm. It…” he struggles with it, “it seems…” he yanks again, “jammed?”

“Fudge,” you mutter under your breath (more ladylike perhaps, as opposed to fuck) and you sulk your shoulders. “But will it close at all, do you think?”

He takes a step closer to you, and his cologne has the fragrance of woody oak with undertones of citrus, like something expensive and sophisticated. His hand sweeps your hair off to the side and over your shoulder to the front so he has a better view, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck from the motion and you try to fight the shiver. A glance to the mirror, and you see his eyes are set on the exposed skin. He tugs to pull your dress together, and is able to cross the fabrics. “Yeah, it should. I think just hold your breath for a second? I’m going to try to see if zipping it down helps unjam it.”

“Okay,” you say softly, and he eyes you in the mirror at the sudden subservience.

You try to hold your breath as he tugs down on the zipper, and you hear the metallic click when he succeeds in unjamming it before he zips it down just an inch. You can feel the small of your back exposed to cool air from the motion.

He’s suddenly frozen entirely behind you, the knuckle of his index finger brushing against your skin as he continues to pinch the zipper between it and his thumb. You feel his slow exhale on the back of your neck. You’re too scared to look at his expression in the mirror.

“Sa–” you stutter through a gasp, “Satoru.”

“Sorry,” he says quietly, and then he’s shifting on his feet once before slowly attempting to zip the dress up.

He’s met with a slight resistance just underneath your shoulder blades. “Hey. Just hold your breath.”

“I’m trying to,” you tell him, almost whining, because it’s hard to stop breathing when your heart is beating fast and it needs the oxygen supply.

“Do you want to try on a different dress?” he asks you.

“No,” you immediately answer him. You’re not sure why, but the idea of wearing this dress for the rest of your life doesn’t scare you anymore. In fact, you never want to take it off.

Your hands twiddle with the flimsy string at your collarbone that you tied to connect the fabric across your chest, and then you realize. “Oh…maybe I need to–” you tug at the end of the string, “undo this? That might make it looser?” You finally glance at the mirror to seek his approval of your suggestion.

His eyes meet yours, and when he sees what you’re referring to, his eyes widen. “But that would–”

“Just don’t look,” you say simply.

You two remain looking at one another in the mirror, and you see his chest heaving slightly through the tightening of his dress shirt against the expansion of his breathing. Like you’re asking the impossible of him.

“Or I’ll kill you,” you say.

He sighs, and his eyes flit down to your zipper again. You swear you feel his hand tremble slightly. “Alright.”

You pull on the end of the string, watching him in the mirror to make sure his eyes don’t wander, and the fabric covering your breasts falls open, but you use a hand to still sparsely cover your skin with the cloth where you can. In the reflection, you see his jaw clench but his eyes remain on the zipper, and only briefly flicker to the bed once. Then he’s zipping up your dress with ease.

You quickly tie the string above your chest once more to cover yourself up, and then spin to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress and throwing your hair back over your shoulder. It was a snug fit, but at least it still fit.

He’s a step behind you with his hands shoved in his suit pockets, looking at your face with a slight tilt to his head like he’s studying you in the mirror just as much as you’re studying yourself. And then he pulls his hand out of his pocket to glance at his watch again. “It’s almost noon,” he says.

“What?!” you bark at him. “We’re fucking late!!! Why didn’t you say anything?!?!”

“Huh??” he baffles. “I’ve been trying to tell you we need to rush this entire time.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you say, pacing your room to find your things in a scurry, picking your purse up and then grabbing your Manila folder of paperwork from your desk, and you try to walk past him to the door when you trip over the five pairs of shoes that you had been trying on earlier, almost twisting your ankle, and you gasp then grab onto his suit jacket for purchase before his arm attempts to reach out to hold you upright but to no avail since you tug on him as you fall straight backwards onto your bed and bring him down with you.

His hands sink into the soft mattress on both sides of your head, wrists tickled by your hair, as he hovers over you, and your fingers quickly curl into little balls at your chest as you shrink underneath him, looking up at his surprised expression, likely from having to suddenly brace himself from falling right on top of you.

You both look at each other, blinking as you come down from the sudden chaos, and his tie that’s hanging from his neck brushes against your knuckle and falls over your hand to graze the skin above your breasts. His eyes briefly flicker to the sight, and he catches himself only to stare at your lips instead.

Even through thick layers of fabric, you can see the thick curves of the muscles in his arms, pulled taut from how he’s holding himself up over you. And for once, you wish the buttons of his shirt were undone, so you can see what he’s hiding underneath. The hair he had swept up above his eyes now falls freely with gravity, soft tufts that dangle above you and shadow over the blue of his eyes as he looks at you with a furrowed brow that–...that makes him look handsome.

You must be ovulating.

No, wait, you finished ovulating a couple days ago.

Oh god.

Was your next door neighbor hot this entire time?

There was simply no way.

You refuse to believe it.

You’re laying still like a deer in highlights, motionless underneath him, before he curls his arm around your waist to bring you up with him as he stands up straight, and you only spend a moment pressed up against him before you get yourself out of his grasp by pushing flat palms against his chest, and then the two of you are in proper distance from one another once again.

“D-Don’t ever do something like that ever again,” you stutter, shimmying your hips slightly to pull the snug fabric down your waist from where it had risen up.

“I didn’t do anything,” he grumbles, and he runs a hand through his hair. Now it looks like it always does, no longer prim in style.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” You slip your feet into one of the pairs of heels sprawled across on the floor, and then you head straight for the door. “You drive.”

You hear him sigh behind you. “Yes ma’am.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

The courthouse is bustling with people when you two arrive but Gojo’s pleasantly able to pull into an open curbside parking spot right in front of the entrance. You’re surprised when he comes around to the passenger side to open the door for you, and you swat his hand away when he offers it to you too, but you probably should’ve taken it, since you almost twist your ankle for the second time today as you step out onto the curb and get used to walking in heels again like a newborn fawn.

“Should’ve taken my hand,” he says to you, smile turned upwards into a smirk as he watches you struggle while he’s a few steps ahead of you.

“Give it to me then,” you grit through your teeth as you wobble, giving up your pride to avoid adding yet another medical bill to the list of debts in your name.

“Nah,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, “too late. Lost your chance.” You curse his entire lineage in your head.

You two make it inside the courtroom, and the first person you look for is Hana, whose head you catch at the front row much to your pleasant surprise since she is your sole witness to sign on the marriage certificate today. But in your study of the room to find her, you notice that there are a lot of other people in here as well.

“Don’t tell me…Did you invite people??” you ask Gojo, grabbing onto his sleeve to get his attention and also for balance, but he doesn’t need to know that latter part.

He glances down at you. “No? Why would I invite people to my fake wedding?”

Your eyes peruse the room once again, and you realize that most of them are just old retired people with nothing better to do on a Sunday than visit the courtroom. Some are elderly couples, eyeing you and Gojo as you two make your way down the aisle with sweetness in their eyes like awwwwwww to be a young couple in love once more <3 while they wait for the judge to call on their hundreds of unpaid parking tickets because they don’t know how to access an internet portal.

“D-Do you have the marriage license?” you squeak out to Gojo, who has now adjusted his walking speed to match yours.

“No, I left it at home,” he tells you in a flat tone. “Of course I brought the marriage license.”

“I was just checking, jeez…” you grumble.

Gojo hands the clerk the folder he was holding in his hand, and you hand in yours too.

Oh god. Your peripheral vision already recognizes him before your brain can, but you see an extremely familiar silhouette standing guard off to the side of the Judge’s bench, and your gaze immediately snaps in that direction.

Choso stands there, in his Sheriff Deputy’s uniform, his thumbs tucked into his vest as he puffs his chest out in assertion of his oh so important duty securing the courthouse on a Summer Sunday from any devastating danger, such as an elderly man not wanting to pay a parking ticket and then proceeding to charge towards the judge at 2 MPH, and you can’t help but roll your eyes from his attitude and scowl at him. Of course he pulled some strings and saw when you were getting allegedly married and decided to show up on that exact day. Whatever. You’ll pay him no mind. As long as he doesn’t speak now.

You and Gojo walk back to the lower desk in front of the Judge’s Bench.

“Ah! y/n, hello my dear, how are you?” the judge calls out to you.

“Hi Judge Jun,” you say meekly with a small wave, your voice echoing in the room, “good, and yourself?”

6/4/2024 1232: Judge Jun is a 72 y/o man with a past medical history of hypertension, hypercholesterolemia, hyperglycemia, GERD, liver cirrhosis and COPD, who endorses a social history of frequent tobacco usage and occasional alcohol consumption. Patient presents to the ED with chief complaint of chest pain, onset two hours ago after he drank three bottles of beer, and—

“Much better since you took care of me last week!” he humphs, patting his stomach.

You snap out of your automatic charting that was droning on in your head on reflex from how many times Judge Jun has shown up to the ED for acute chest pain which almost always ends up just being beer-induced GERD.

“At the hospital!” you clarify, “for taking care of you at the hospital!”

The man laughs heartily from where he sits up at the raised platform bench. “Yes! And Mr. Gojo! Nice to see you as well.”

You flit your eyes to Gojo, like you know him too? He only briefly spares you a sidewards glance before looking back at Judge Jun. “Likewise, sir.”

You postulate he scammed the fuck out of the man into signing a forty-year lease on a condo in the shady part of town, and you’ll leave it at that.

“I have to say, I am a little shocked by this matrimonial partnership!” Judge Jun chimes in. “But do you both swear to enter this marriage under just circumstances? I will need verbal affirmation from you both.”

Gojo raises his hand up in the air to swear on it, and you remember that he’s possibly done this before. Y’know how people have a courtroom wedding before a real wedding, something like that. And maybe that’s why he knows to raise his hand, because you didn’t even know you were supposed to raise your hand until now.

A real wedding. Something you’ve pictured a lot in your head, and so much more different than the arrangement you find yourself in right now. And because the pain of imagining yourself tying the knot with someone is too much right now, especially when the man you thought you were going to marry stands in uniform five feet away from you and probably doesn’t even recognize the dress you’re wearing right now, you glance over to Gojo and you try to imagine what a real wedding would’ve been like for him. Since he’s done it before.

He probably had a tacky wedding, like in a barn with barrels of beer used as tables with barely flickering string lights hung across wooden planks high on a triangular ceiling. The reception and the ceremony likely happened under the same roof, because he seems like the minimalist type, more focused on the feelings behind it and all, and not the grandeur.

Or maybe he was into the grandeur. Maybe he had a wedding on a skyline penthouse in the city, wearing expensive cologne like the one he’s wearing now, and a Dior suit he got custom made because it was a once in a lifetime occasion so why not? The image becomes a little too vivid in your head now, where you can picture this woman he’s marrying too. Pretty, tall just like him, wearing a ball gown white dress. He would’ve told her she looked beautiful, too. He would’ve told her he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. Vows uttered shakingly into the microphone at an altar while the sun is setting far into the sky, shimmering off of high building windows until the air is golden and it reflects off of his and his soon-to-be wife’s face. And when they’ve professed their love for one another, he grabs her by the waist and dips her in a kiss, for the perfect picture against the perfect backdrop in front of all the perfect little people because there probably was a photographer at that event, wanting to capture the moment.

You snap out of the dazed moment when a loud voice calls out your name, and in a shock, you glance back up at Judge Jun who’s looking at you with slight irritation.

“Huh?” you squeak out, and then turn to look at Gojo, who’s got a look of mild concern on his face as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Please swear that this marriage is under just circumstances,” Judge Jun states with a cadence that indicates he’s commanded this of you multiple times already.

“Oh!” you stand up straight, “I—…I’m sorry.” You hold your hand up. “Yes, I swear this marriage is under just circumstances.” Just like Higurama had you practice. He’d be proud. Phew, the hard part was over.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a rather fast blur, and it’s a little awkward when you both have to tell Judge Jun that you don’t have any vows to exchange at the moment when he offers the time for them, but Gojo comes up with some lie about how the real vows will be at our formal ceremony, and Judge Jun seems entirely satisfied and a little too ecstatic by the answer before allowing you two and Hana to sign the marriage certificate.

“And rings?” Judge Jun asks as he peers down through his glasses to the paper he was holding at his desk. “We can now make time for the exchange of rings.”

You’re prepared for Gojo to come up with another lie about how the real rings will be at our formal ceremony, but you see him shuffling with something in his pocket in your periphery. Hm? You glance down at his hip, and you see him pull something shiny out.

He turns to face you, and he holds his hand out to you with an up-facing palm. You blink at him and then glance down at his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then glance down his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then gl—

“Give me your hand,” he says to you, a little hushed and rushed.

“Why???” you ask, baffled.

“So I can put a ring on your finger?” he says, like it’s the most casual thing. Like getting a ring slipped onto your fourth finger is the most casual Sunday for you, when it’s something you’ve dreamt of your whole entire life.

You finally take a long hard look at the ring he’s holding in his right hand. It shimmers with every glint of light in the courtroom off of every angle, no doubtedly precisely cut diamond from a jeweler who really cares about their craft, and you swear you’ve saved a similar looking ring to one of your Pinterest wedding boards before.

You hesitantly bring your hand up and hover it over his.

“Your left hand, silly,” he tells you.

“Oh, right,” you say, and hand him your left one instead.

He holds it in his hand that is much warmer than yours, and it’s so tender, the way he gently slips the ring onto your finger. It fits with ease, perfection actually, and you can’t help raising your hand up in the air, spreading your fingers weakly as you admire the stone now sitting above your knuckle. It’s pretty.

You feel Gojo’s eyes on you, as he’s halted in frame, and you glance past your hand to look at his face. You dislike him. You do. You should. He’s your annoying as fuck next-door-neighbor. So then why does your heart feel like it could burst right now?

A glimmer of silver catches your eye, and you look down at his hands as he slips a silver ring onto his left hand while facing you before he turns to face the front again, signaling the end of the ring exchange, except you didn’t get to put it on his hand. He didn’t give you the chance.

“Alright! Wonderful!” Judge Jun exclaims, whose eyesight is probably too poor to have seen that it wasn’t even a proper ring exchange. “With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

There is scattered applause across the courtroom, a few cheers as well, as you two stand in front of the court of law in holy matrimony.

Judge Jun glances at Gojo. “Well, young man, you may now kiss the bride!”

“Oh—…that—” you stutter, “that’s not necessa—”

“Okay,” Gojo says, more to affirm Judge Jun than in acknowledgement of your protest, and in a series of what feels like just one motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you two him and then he—

He kisses you.

He kisses you like it’s real, like there’s history, like it’s a pure thing meant to last and not something you quite literally put a time stamp on. The kiss muffles the small sound that comes from your throat, your hands held up in the air in some slight surrender before they slowly settle on his shoulders as he bends you backwards over his forearm to deepen the kiss and the cheers surrounding you grow with a fervor that has your cheeks burning red but for some reason you don’t want it to end—

And then he pulls away from you, eyes darting across the features of your face in close proximity as he exhales slowly, like a release, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in this room before he glances at your lips one last time and then he releases his hold on you. You stand shocked, and briefly glance at Choso, who looks like he’s about to burst a fuse off the top of his head.

What.

What?

And just like that, you were married to your insufferable next-door neighbor.

[end of chapter 2]

a/n. thank youuu soooo so much for reading this chapter of ihm!! i’m kinda liking the writing style i’ve adopted for this series, it’s kinda lax n lenient sort of like a stream of consciousness and i hope it doesn’t come of too crass of informal lol i’m just playing around w some writing styles rn. ANYWHO i hope you enjoyed!! btw i picture choso as long-hair choso in any modern au (and not pigtails choso) so if you see me describing his hair in the way that i do, that’s why lol. love you all so much, hope to see you in the next one <3

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ghostofhyuck · 1 month

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NCT Dream confessing to you.

AN: Wow this one was long too because I got carried away.

Mark Lee

Mark would be the type that wanted to keep it quiet and private. Just the two of you. In your apartment, over two cups of coffee. It was a peaceful moment where in you two are enjoying the peace when Mark couldn't stop himself from staring at you. He likes you ever since you two were in high school. He doesn't want to confess because he's afraid of ruining your friendship. But in that moment, he just feels like doing it. So he holds your hand, starting with something like, "There's something I wanted to say," and then before you could say anything, he tells you that he likes you. You'll be flustered with the sudden confession, but only smiles, confessing to him that you also like him too. He'll be happy to hear your confession and once the tension is gone, you two will start teasing each other, asking when did you two start liking each other.

Huang Renjun

Renjun would do it during a late night walk from a coffee shop run. You two just finished a huge school paper and are now on the way to your place because Renjun wanted to make sure that you get home before he goes to his place. Your neighborhood has always been this quiet, making Renjun nervous. This is the moment that he's been waiting for. For months, he has been pining over you and it was a risk for him to confess to you, but he just wanted to tell you so that he wanted to know if he should stop pining over you or not. So when he grabs your hand, you were surprised, but Renjun acts like it was nothing even swaying it lightly. His hands never left yours until you two reached your place, that's where he confesses to you about his feelings. Surprised, you weren't able to answer his confession because he ran away quickly! (You texted him that you like him too.)

Lee Jeno

It's been bugging him for months! Jeno's pining for you is so hard to watch especially for his friends, they think that he should just confess to you because they don't like seeing Jeno's love strucked pining over you and the other one is that, they know that you like him back! (they're just keeping it as a secret.) So after many convincing, Jeno mustered up the courage. He said at first, he'll do it through text but he couldn't find the right word to do so, so he asked you if he can call and you said yes. As soon as you said hi, Jeno bursts. Literally confessed to you so fast that you weren't able to pick up anything other than, "I like you." he seems so out of breath after the confession but apologizes to you because of the sudden confession but you only laughed it off and told him that you like him too!

Lee Donghyuck

I feel like Haechan follows some superstitions like when you confessed to someone during the first fall of snow, they'll be yours forever something like that. Haechan thinks that it's true that's why he asked you to meet him during the first snow, as predicted by the weather forecast. You met him at the school's playground and Haechan thinks that you look cute in your winter coat, even placing his scarf around you so that you'll be more warm. He looks at the sky and then thinks that any minute now, it's going to snow but it didn't. He'll ask you to wait for a few minutes glancing at the sky once again, making you realized what's happening. You told him that he doesn't need the first snow to happen, because you like him too. Haechan would be in relief to hear those words from you, you two will end up laughing because of the situation. When he walked you home, that's when the snow fell, making you two be in awe with the weather.

Na Jaemin

Oh I think that Jaemin would confess to you at the spur of the moment. It'll be on a vacation trip. The two of you are sitting on the chairs, watching the waves crash while the moon glisten on the ocean. You two are just sitting there, talking about the future and something deep, like what would happen to you and your friend group once you guys graduated and you two are just laughing and being silly, until Jaemin stops and glances at you. That's when it caught you off-guard that he's been staring for too long. "Do you know that I've always liked you?" and you tried to laugh it off, telling him to stop fooling around until he says that he's serious. You two will have a staring contest, his eyes looking at you lovingly. Waiting for an answer from you. Instead of answering him, you pulled Jaemin for a kiss, which surprised him but he only smile as he leans to kiss you once more.

Zhong Chenle

"After this, there's something important that I wanted to say to you," would probably a hint Chenle will give you. He's the type who'll confess after a huge event, let's say, you're the main star of a musical prod in your university. You've been working hard and have been practicing nonstop for the show, and then Chenle told you that he's going to say something to you after you finish the show because he wants you to focus on the prod first. But it distracts you more! because you're curious about what he wants to say to you! You tried to ask Chenle about it but he brushes it off. So at the day of your final show, Chenle shows up with a bouquet of flowers on his hands. It'll be just the two of you, somewhere backstage, hidden from the crowd. He'll say first that he's proud of you, and that he likes you which made you cry, overwhelmed with joy.

Park Jisung

You know those romance high school anime where they confess during graduation? Yeah that's how Jisung confesses to you. It'll be during your graduation because it's a risk for Jisung. It's now or never, so if you even rejected him, at least he won't be seeing you anymore. He'll be the type to text you to meet him at your classroom or maybe at the school's rooftop (if you guys are allowed there lmao.) When you reached the meeting place, you'll see him with his diploma, wearing his school uniform and you'll be caught off-guard at how incredibly handsome Jisung is. He'll approach you and then it took him a minute to say word, eventually, stumbling through his confession. "I don't need your answer yn, I just want to tell you I like you before we part ways." he added. And instead of answering him, you gave Jisung a hug, surprising him with your action.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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oo-delallymrcrow · 29 days

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The Babysitter

A/N: I haven't jumped on a bandwagon so fast but this man has made me start writing again so here you go. Thank you so much for the love on my last story. It made my day 😊

This story is a little more spicy. Nothing to explicit and more suggestive.

Cooper had just moved into the neighborhood. Of course, with this divorce, Barbara got the house, and he had to move out.

He sighed as he went to check his mail when the sound of a door opening caught his attention. His new neighbor was a dad and a daughter who he got to know when they helped him move in. Y/N walked out with a smile and waved to him. Cooper smiled and waved back.

“Heading out to work, Y/N?” He called out as she walked toward him.

Cooper was older but not blind. Y/N was a young, beautiful woman that caught his attention. With her radiant smile and kind demeanor, she seemed like a breath of fresh air in his life.

“No Mr. Howard,” she laughed out, “not work. I'm still in college. Hopefully this degree will help get me one though.”

He hummed in agreement as she walked past him. He looked up to see her still walking before he called out to her.

“You walkin’?”

She stopped and turned to him. “Yeah? Gotta catch the bus.”

He stepped toward her and gestured back to the house.

“You're daddy doesn't take you?”

She shook her head, “no sir. He’s a businessman so he's on the road a lot.”

Cooper looked at his car before making up his mind.

“How about I take you then sweetheart?”

She smiled shyly down at her shoes, “oh I don't want to put you out Mr. Howard.”

“Please,” he scoffed as he led her toward his car. “You're not sweetheart. I'll be happy to know you're getting there safely.”

He opened the door as she smiled again, “thank you Mr. Howard.”

He smiled as her hand brushed along his as he muttered a welcome.

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

As Cooper pulled into his driveway, Janey was excited to be staying the weekend with her dad and was talking admittedly.

“-and then we can watch cartoons with some pancakes. Can we have pancakes for dinner? I think we should have pancakes for dinner.”

Cooper chuckled as he helped Janey out of the car.

“Whatever you want kiddo. It's our weekend for fun.”

She grinned up at him when a voice called out.

“Hi Mr. Howard. How's your day been?”

Cooper looked up at Y/N as she was walking past his house into her yard. She was smiling at him and glanced down at Janey at his side.

“And hello to you too.”

Janey smiled up at her and waved.

“Hi my name's Janey. I'm staying with my dad this weekend and we're having pancakes for dinner.”

Y/N’s smile widened and she glanced at Cooper, making his heart skip a beat at the glee he saw on her face. He remembered when he was taking her to school she mentioned that she wanted to be a teacher and how much she loved kids.

“Oh wow! You're a lucky kid. I wished I had pancakes for dinner. Are you going to have bacon and eggs too?”

Janey giggled as she nodded, “yes and we're going to watch cartoons!”

Y/N gasped, “Wow you have an amazing night planned huh?”

“Yep. It's gonna be a great weekend.”

Cooper watched the interaction with happiness blooming in his heart. He didn't think his daughter would like Y/N but she took a shine to her so easily. He was thinking about whether she would like to babysit some nights when he had her, when Janey interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you want to join us? You can have pancakes with us.”

Cooper snapped his head to Janey as she grinned up at him. His eyes narrowed at his daughter when a twinkle hit her eye. She turned to Y/N smiling sweetly at her.

“My daddy and I would love for you to come over. We can watch his new movie together.”

‘Oh this little-’ Cooper ran his hand down his face as he felt himself turn a little red at Janey's words.

He looked up at Y/N and saw her face look like it matched hers. He felt a little bad but thought why the hell not.

“Well,” he drawled out as her gaze shot to him. Her eyes made him pause as the setting sun caught the shine in them. They were really pretty. “If you're not busy. We would like you to join us.”

Y/N smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear before shaking her head.

“No, I'm not busy tonight.” She looked at Janey. “I would love to join you.”

She glanced up at Cooper, “and you're dad.”

He smiled and Janey squealed out a yes as she ran up the door to his house. She came over with a laugh. She offered to help bring Janey's things in as Cooper shook his head.

“Come on sweetheart. You are a guest and you need to relax. Now go on.”

Y/N blushed and he liked the look on her. She held the door open for him as he followed behind. Janey was playing with Roosevelt, giggling as he licked her face with his tail wagging in excitement. Y/N walked into the living room and let Roosevelt sniff her hand before giving it a lick. She smiled and leaned down to pet and scratch behind his ear, cooing about how he's a good boy.

Cooper smiled as he walked back to the extra bedroom he claimed was Janey's. As he set her suitcase down Janey's voice came from the doorway.

“Daddy?”

He knelt down as she walked up to him.

“Yes pumpkin?”

“I hope I didn't make you upset with inviting Y/N over. She just seemed really nice and she sounded like she was lonely.”

Cooper kissed the top of her head as he smiled, “you didn't upset me pumpkin. I think she was happy you invited her over. Now let's go make those pancakes before you get hungry.”

Janey smiled at her dad as he followed her out. Smiling at Y/N as she looked up from petting Roosevelt on the floor. She smiled and let Janey sit right next to her as she started asking about Y/N.

“What's your favorite cartoon? Oh do you like purple? My favorite color is purple.”

Cooper chuckled as he walked into the kitchen. The sound of his house filling with talk and laughter, something he was missing for awhile.

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

After that night Cooper asked Y/N if she would babysit for him if he ever got busy at work. She smiled and enthusiastically said yes and to give her a call whenever he needed her. When a day came that he needed her, she didn't hesitate to come over and wave him away with a laugh.

So, it became a little routine. He got a busy day with shooting, running a little late into the night. When coming home she would have Janey in bed and a home-cooked meal ready for him. It made Cooper want to spend more time with her than immediately sending her home. So he made sure to strike up conversations whenever she came over, always finding excuses to linger a little longer in her presence.

It was nice. It made Cooper feel normal after all of the chaos. Whenever they did just sit together or the random times he would come home to Y/N and Janey having dinner. She would smile and fix him a plate as he sat down. They all laughed and enjoyed dinner together. It was a happy little family.

So his mind started putting her into different fantasies. They started innocent at first. A family day around town. Going grocery shopping together. Just sitting by the fireplace, cuddling up together, as Janey sat and played with her dolls or coloring while watching tv.

Then one night as Cooper had trouble falling asleep, his mind went down a different path. Coming home to you and bending you over the counter. Making you stay in bed all day as he worshipped your body. That's what you deserved after taking care of him so well.

He felt a little guilty when he had to clean himself after coming to the thought of you, but it was his little secret that he didn't share. He knew it was just one sided and didn't have a chance with her.

Until a day came where she flirted with him. It caught him by surprise. He didn't think anyone would find him attractive with how much older he was. But there you were and it made his heart beat just a little faster.

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

It was a Saturday morning. Janey wasn't with him this weekend so he slept in a little longer. When he got out of bed and walked to the kitchen to get some coffee the doorbell rang out. He huffed and went to open it, not expecting anyone this morning.

Opening the door, Y/N was standing there with a bright smile like always. Her mouth dropped open a little at surprise and it made Cooper confused. Until he realized he goes to bed with just sleep pants and he was standing in front of you shirtless. He felt heat in his cheeks and spread down his neck as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry Y/N. Um, can I help you?”

He watched as her gaze ran down his body before catching his eye again. She blushed and glanced away.

“Sorry Mr. Howard. I was coming over to see Janey.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him.

“She's not here. She's at her mother's this weekend.”

She blinked up at him before making an ‘oh’ face. She scratched the side of her head before slightly turning away.

“Sorry for interrupting your morning then. I'll be on my way.”

Before she could fully turn around, Cooper called out.

“Wait, um did you want to come inside? I was going to make coffee. Maybe if you joined me I'll make a little breakfast for us.”

She turned back and bite her bottom lip. “I would like that.”

He stepped back and let Y/N walk past him. She was trying not to let her gaze linger and wander. But he saw her eyes drop down again and it made Cooper feel heated.

He followed her into the living where he stopped and motioned towards his room.

“I'll just go throw on a shirt and then I'll make us breakfast.”

He walked down the hall but stopped suddenly when he heard her say, “I'd prefer if you didn’t.”

His eyes widened before he shouted, “what was that?”

He heard her let out a little squeak and a nothing. It made Cooper feel better about himself. It made him feel attractive again. So he walked out standing a little taller and was more confident about himself.

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

Apparently she wanted the same. And over the next few weeks he noticed that they both flirted back and forth. She started staying an extra hour or two just to sit and talk about their day. Shooting was a bitch sometimes and classes made her want to rip her hair out.

“I'm surprised that- what's his name?” Cooper looked up at her as she chewed at her lip.

“Matthew,” she sighed out, throwing her head back to face the ceiling.

He took the opportunity to let his gaze run down her body. She was just sitting there and there he was, wondering if she threw her head back when she pleasured herself. Gasping up to the ceiling and-

Cooper shook his head with a groan. Making her look at him in concern.

“Are you alright Mr. Howard?”

“Fine darlin’.” He growled out as he faced away from her.

He heard a hitch in her breath at his new nickname for her and it made him smirk a little.

“What did Matthew do?”

She groaned and buried her face into her hands. She mumbled a reply and leaned toward her to pull her hands away from her face.

“Couldn't quite hear you,” he smirked, “darlin’.”

Her breath got caught again and she looked away with a blush as she spoke.

“He asked me out on a date.”

Cooper looked at her and couldn't help the bolt of jealousy that went through him. He cleared his throat and stood up to head to the bar to get a drink.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

‘Quit talking Cooper.’ He poured himself some whiskey. ‘Don't say anything stupid. Don't need to scare her off.’

“A beautiful woman such as yourself should have a boys falling at your feet. I know I would”

It was silent for a minute before he faced her with a grimace.

‘Said the stupid thing.’

She looked down at the couch, picking at a stray string on her sweater. He wished he kept his mouth shut as he took a step forward.

“Sorry if I made it awkward.”

She shook her head quickly, “no you didn't make it awkward Mr. Howard. I just don't like…”

Her face flushed red looking up at him before shooting her gaze back down. He chewed at his bottom lip and gazed down at the glass in his hand.

“I don't like boys,” she finished her statement making Cooper raise his gaze to hers. Surprised that she held it as he felt heat raise up his neck toward his cheeks. He cleared his throat before asking.

“What do you mean-”

“Men.” She stated bluntly. “I like older men. A man who is willing to take care of me and show me new things to try.”

She stood and slowly walked to him. His gaze running up and down her body as she sauntered up to him.

“Uh-”

“I like when a man takes care of his child.” She smiles up at him and glances off to the side.

“It shows me that he's a good father and,” she bite at her lip as she ran a hand down his chest. Cooper held his breathe as she looked up at him. “I wouldn't mind him putting a few kids into me.”

Cooper threw his glass to the side to cup her face and smashed his lips against hers. The past few weeks making Cooper take his chance. She let out a small squeak but followed his lead. He ran his hand down to her hip and turned them around as he backed her up into the wall. He placed his other hand beside her head on the wall as he pulled away to catch his breath.

He waited as Y/N slowly opened her eyes in a daze before he licked his lips.

‘Sweet,” he thought as he tasted her chapstick. ‘Of course she tastes sweet.’

“Darlin'” he practically growled put as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You need to tell me now if you want this. If you want to walk out and forget it happened.”

Cooper paused at that statement and hoped to god she didn't reject him.

“Cooper,” she all but purred as she stood up and tip toes. “If I didnt want this. I wouldnt have flirted with you until you got the hint.”

She brushed her lips to his as he ran his hand down to squeeze her ass. She let out a harsh breath and whined as he chuckled.

“Duly noted sweetheart.”

He pressed his lips to hers again as she moaned out. He pressed his body and slotted his leg between hers. She threw her head back with a cry of his name as she rolled her hips. It clicked in his head that she was calling him Cooper instead of Mr. Howard. He pressed a few soft kisses down her neck.

“Never thought I'd like my name falling out of your mouth this much.”

She let out a small breathless laugh as he nibbled at her ear.

“You should hear when I moan it, done that a few times. Maybe screamed it too.”

Cooper let out a low moan and pulled away to hoist Y/N up and over his shoulder. She giggled as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom muttering about how she's being a tease.

“Gonna have to teach ya a few manners, darlin’.”

#cooper howard x you #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #fallout

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klonoadoortophantomile · 2 years

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holy shit im so tired

#in a good way btw. im just sooo tired sleepy yknow /silly #my friend gizmo got here today and just. holy shit its been so long since ive seen him in person its insane i missed him so much #like obviously weve talked so much and we call all the time but like... its nice being able 2 just exist in the same space again #we spent like hours walking around our neighborhood and the woods together its the most ive walked like years probably hsgshgdhd #*in like #(thats part of why im so tired im not used to walking so much hgshdghdggdhs #but yeah overall i just feel good and awesome and happy and wow!!!! i love my friends yknow #hope you guys are doing well too =)#inquisitivewaltz.txt

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peachsukii · 2 months

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unbreakable bonds ꒰ no quirks au | childhood friends | friends to lovers ꒱ ⇢ a collective of family bonding and little moments between you and katsuki.

『♡』 k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ tags & content ꒱ emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, happiness all around ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just wanted to write something sickly sweet and it’s been sitting in my drafts forever. reader has a little sister that helps bond the two of you together over the years. cross posted to ao3 | word count; ~3kish? -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

You were too young - a little over three - to understand the day your mom brought home your little sister. You'd been secretly asking the universe for a sibling, someone to share everything with. Ask and you shall receive! But, you never knew just how much she would shape your life into what it is today.

The Kingdom - Elementary School

Fourth grade is when you and Katsuki started to play after school together on a daily basis. Him and Izuku would come by and grab snacks from your mom while you went back to the park around the corner, playing pirates and super heroes with the other neighborhood kids. Every so often, your mom would ask for you to bring your sister along. You never minded, even though she was your baby sister in first grade. The boys would pick on her - lovingly, of course - to make her feel included with the rest of the pack. She loved being around you, cooing and giggling away as she'd hold your hand and squeal with delight.

One day at the park, she'd declared herself to be queen of the castle as she stood on the slide, proudly puffing out her chest with her hands on her hips.

"I am the queen, and what I say goes!" she pointed to you and Katsuki. "Sissy will be the princess and you will be our royal guard, Katsu!"

You chuckle. "Isn't the older sister supposed to be queen?"

She does her best impression of a royal laugh, projecting her voice theatrically. "Not in my land! It's my kingdom and if you don't like it, I'll send you to the brig!"

"You're confusin' pirates 'n princesses again,” Katsuki taunts playfully.

She stomps her foot on the slide. “Silence in my kingdom! Izu will be my knight!”

Katsuki pouts. “Hey! Why don’t I get to be the knight?!’

“Cause I say so! You’re the royal guard cause you’re tough. Izu is the knight because he’s brave!”

You can’t help but let out a loud ‘hah!’ at her comment. Your sister never failed to push Katsuki in the cutest ways - he probably was thankful to be an only child whenever you guys would go home for the day.

Katsuki huffs at her declaration, taking the challenge with stride. “Fine! I’ll show you who’s tough and be the best dang guard in the whole world.”

“Do I get a cool set of armor, queen?” Izuku asks, bouncing up and down at the bottom of the slide.

“Of course! Only the best armor and ponies for my royal kingdom.”

She sits and pushes herself down the metal slide, rocketing off the edge past Izuku and barreling toward Katsuki. She trucks into him at full force - but, being small, that force isn’t much for him to withstand.

“What the heck was that for?!” he yells while catching her before she hits the wood chips.

“A test of your toughness, Katsu! And you passed! You’re deserving of a spot in my kingdom,” she giggles, mashing his cheeks together with her tiny palms. He protests her closeness and tries to fight her off, setting her feet back on the ground while she’s wiggling in his hold. Watching the two of them act like siblings themselves always made you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, knowing your two closest friends also adored your sister as much as you did.

You meander over to grab her from him. “Alright, I think you made your point, queen. Your guard and knight have other duties to get to.”

She waves goodbye to the boys over her shoulder as the two of you stroll home for dinner. She gleefully remarks how cool they are and that she can’t wait to marry them someday.

You can’t help but giggle at the thought. “Both of them? Wow, all to yourself, huh?”

She pouts and whips her head upward. “No, sissy! We both get one!”

”Oh yeah? Because you’re the queen of the kingdom, you get to pick?”

“That’s right! They’ll have to fight to see who gets to pick you!”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head at the thought. You’re only ten years old, the thought of boys fighting over you was hilarious.

”Promise not to tell Izu, but I think Katsu would win that fight,” she whispers, tugging on your hand to get you to lean over closer to her face. “He’s taller and faster!”

The thought of marrying Katsuki flashes in your mind - you have zero clue what that even looks like, but you imagine him bringing you flowers on the playground or giving you a bite of his ice cream. A blush creeps over your cheeks and nose at the thought. Your sister catches your reaction and gasps dramatically.

“You like Katsu?!” she exclaims.

You shush her. “No! Don’t go yelling that!”

That’s a big fat lie. You liked him a lot, he was your favorite person, but you’re kids.

It’s just a harmless crush.

───

An Enchanted Afternoon - Elementary School

A week later, the four of you returned to the playground after school. Snacks from your pantry in hand, the bunch of you sit on the swing set to eat. Your sister seemed extremely eager today, more so than usual. Once you all finished eating, she demanded your attention.

"Gather 'round! Your queen summons you," she declares, arms raised above her head. You and the boys huddle around her.

"Katsu, go fetch flowers!" she orders as she points to a nearby patch of grass. "Zuzu, clear out the sandbox of any villagers."

There wasn't anyone else here today, so that job was easily done. Izuku doesn't say anything and smiles as he heads over to the sandbox as ordered. Katsuki is confused, nose scrunched and arms crossed.

"Why do I need to get flowers?" he asks, tapping his foot in the wood chips.

"Do you dare defy your queen?!" she shouts, grinning wickedly. He obliges, sauntering over to the grass to find a few spare daisies.

"What's all this for?" you ask, genuinely curious to her plans. She doesn’t answer you as she grabs you by the wrist, dragging you over to the sandbox.

A few minutes later, Katsuki comes back with a handful of daisies, picked and pruned clean of any dirt and weeds. Izuku stands on the edge of the sandbox patiently.

”Perfect! Katsu, Sissy, please approach your queen.”

You play along and stand in front of her with Katsuki. It’s amusing how small she is in comparison to the two of you, easily shadowing over her figure.

“With my knight as witness, I give the blessing to the princess and royal guard to be married forever!” she exclaims, waving her hands around to mimic casting a magic spell.

You're pretty sure she got that line from a princess movie, but that doesn't make the sentiment any less adorable. You begin to chuckle to yourself, smiling ear to ear before turning toward Katsuki. You're expecting him to be disgusted, repulsed by something so sickly sweet, but are shocked to see him standing with the flowers outstretched in your direction. He's biting his bottom lip and avoiding eye contact by staring directly at your feet.

"H-here," he whispers meekly, pushing the flowers into your hands. You've never seen him so shy before - that's usually Izuku's demeanor. His unexpected affection makes your little heart flutter in your chest.

"Thank you 'Suki," is all you can muster up the courage to say, your mind running blank on the right thing to say. It's just an imaginary scenario...It's not real, not like you're actually marrying him. Katsuki exhales, turning his back to you to hide his strawberry colored cheeks.

"Now you're together forever!" you sister raves, dancing on her tip toes with satisfaction.

Maybe that was the moment she bound you two together with some unknown magical force, or it was a mere coincidence. The sappy part of your young brain believed in fairytales and chose to believe she was weaving your golden string to him, binding you two for life.

───

Leftovers - Middle School

”Yo, brats! Come eat already so I can get the hell outta here,” Katsuki called from your doorway. He’d come by with leftovers from his mom for you and your sister, since your own mom was working later that day. The two of you were still…friends? You weren’t sure. Being in seventh grade and all, he started acting like you weren’t cool enough for him. He did the same to Izuku, starting to ditch the two of you for other kids in class to hang out with at lunch or walk home with. Did it hurt your feelings? Absolutely. But you didn’t own him, he was allowed to have other friends, even if it did suck to see him less outside of class.

“Coming!” you called back, skipping down the hallway with your sister in tow. She happily ran into the entryway, hugging Katsuki by the waist. She was taller now, but still much smaller than him as a fourth grader.

“Hiya Katsu!” she gleamed up at him, rubbing her face against his uniform jacket.

He grunted, uncomfortable with her sudden affection and poking her in the forehead to release her grip. “Let go, squirt!”

He turned his attention to you as your sister finally let go of him. “Here, take these. I gotta get to practice.”

”Thank you! Tell your mom we said hi.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You hand the containers to your sister as she wanders off to the table. Before Katsuki opens the door, you tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?”

He scoffs at your question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem distant lately. Wanna come by sometime for a movie marathon?” you ask, tilting your head and giving him a warm smile.

“We’re not kids anymore. Got better stuff to do.”

Ouch, that stung. Your smile fades away as you reply. “Well…I know. I just miss hanging out with you.”

“You have Deku an’ that other group of bitches you hang out with, ya don’t need me.” His harsh comment has notes of jealousy intertwined in his words. He goes to put his hand on the door again before you take a step forward to stop him.

“Kat, they’re not a replacement for you. You’ve got your own friends now, too since you’re on the soccer team. You’re saying we can’t hang out 'cause we have different friends?”

He glares at you before pushing past you and pulling on the front door.

“Hey!” your sister shouts from the dining area. “Katsu, that’s not nice. My royal guard doesn't act like that!” She’s always thought of Katsuki as a guard since your elementary school playground days.

“Cut the shit! We’re not kids anymore!” Katsuki rebuttals with a growl of frustration.

He makes eye contact with you. “We’ve grown apart, end of fuckin’ story. Get over it.”

He slams your front door closed and leaves you standing in the entryway, your eyes stinging from the urge to cry. You feel a small gust of wind rush by as your sister is sprinting to the door, throwing it open and running outside without shoes on.

“Hey!” She calls after Katsuki. “Get your butt back here, Katsu!”

He turns on his heel. “Hah?!”

She stomps on the ground, fists balled at her sides. “Apologize to her!”

Katsuki cackles, a little too manically. “For what, brat?”

“You’re being a mean jerk to her! She doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like that. Friends are friends forever, idiot!” she yells, her cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched together.

You can’t help but stifle a laugh at her calling Katsuki an idiot and turn your head to hide your amusement.

”That’s not who you are, Katsu. That’s not how you treat your princess!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut in annoyance, exhaling dramatically. He locks his gaze on you, storming back up to the doorway. He roughly ruffles your sister’s hair as he passes by her as a pseudo apology. Katsuki sucks the air through his teeth and shoves his fists in his pockets as he stops in front of you.

“Look, ‘m sorry for yellin’, okay?” he sighs, kicking a foot against the pavement. “I'll come over Saturday, we’ll have that movie day ya wanted.”

"You don't need to if you feel forced to hang out with me." Your eyes shift to your feet to avoid looking at his reaction.

" 's fine. I'll be here at noon, don't pick anything lame."

With that, he turns to leave for a second time in silence. You watch him disappear around the corner and can't help but feel like a burden for asking him to make time for you. As if reading your mind, your sister shakes you out of the negative train of thought while walking back to the house.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just being a dumb boy. That’s what my teacher says when boys are mean for no reason.” She grins a toothy smile up at you and grabs your hand. “Come on! Foods getting cold!”

Katsuki rounded the corner and waited to be out of sight before palming his face in anger. He had no idea why he said those things to you. None of it was true, especially that you’d grown apart. If anything, he was jealous of your friends and missed seeing you all the time. But he couldn’t bring himself to say so, like always. Ever since middle school started, he’d harbored some unknown rage inside of him that lashed out every chance it could. He hated it and didn’t know what to do to stop it - hence trying out for the soccer team, looking for an outlet for the pent up emotions in his body.

Katsuki secretly hoped you wouldn’t end up despising him for it. Even after all this time, he still thinks of you whenever he sees a patch of daisies.

Maybe one day he’d be brave enough to tell you about it.

───

Running Late - High School

The front door to your home opens as Katsuki slips inside, kicking his loafers off by the door. Your younger sister peaks over the kitchen counter while spreading jam over her toast and nods in his direction.

"Hey Katsu, pretty sure she's still asleep upstairs," she calls, rolling her eyes. "I tried to get her up three times, maybe you'll have better luck."

It was hard to believe that she was already in her freshmen year of high school - shit, it’s crazy that you and Katsuki were seniors. The age of playground days and summer adventures went by in the blink of an eye.

He makes his way to the kitchen island, leaning over to ruffle your sister’s hair - some things never change.

"Thanks, bean. I'll get her ass movin’."

“Stooop! You’ll mess up my hair!” She whines as she pulls away, fixing a few stray pieces of her fluffy mane.

“Ya look fine, don’t sweat it,” he compliments while heading for the staircase. He makes his way to your bedroom on the second floor. The door is surprisingly cracked open - he taps on the doorframe to grab your attention.

“Come in,” you call, lying on your bed facing the wall above the covers while scrolling on your phone. You presume it’s your sister until a soft kiss is planted on your cheek.

“Mornin’ sweets,” Katsuki whispers, rubbing your shoulder to turn you to face him. He sits on the edge of your bed beside you. “You wanna be late for our last first day of high school?”

You shift to sit up and drop your phone to your bed, reaching to cradle his face in your hands.

“No, I just wanted to steal a few kisses first,” you mumble as your lips quietly meet his. Katsuki places one hand on your cheek while the other lightly grazes your back. After a few moments, the two of you part with a soft smack. You stand and straighten up your uniform skirt, flattening a few of the panels to work out any stray creases.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, spinning around for Katsuki and showing off your uniform. Your hair was pulled into a pretty ponytail with a few pieces framing your face. The only make up you had on was some lip gloss - you valued sleeping in over doing a minimalist makeup look today.

“Y’always look good,” he sighs, standing to his feet. “Let’s get movin’ before bean suspects somethin’.”

You hadn’t told your sister about your relationship with Katsuki. Sure, you guys had been friends since you were children and he’s always around…how would she know the difference?

The two of you patter down the hallway and skip down the stairs to the kitchen. Your sister is waiting for the two of you, arms crossed and tapping one foot impatiently.

“Finally! Get your damn shoes on,” she orders while pushing you toward the door. She does a double take at Katsuki while you’re putting on your shoes, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Katsu…are you wearing lipgloss?”

Oops.

Katsuki’s searching for something to say as his face glows scarlet. He puts a hand on the back of his neck and turns away, grumbling while attempting to hide his embarrassment.

“Oh come on, you two. I knew you guys started dating months ago. You think I didn’t notice?”

You spin around to face her, cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched. “You never said anything?!”

She laughs, walking up to Katsuki and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“If you ever hurt her, Katsuki, I’ll knock your lights out. I know where you sleep,” she threatens, grinning mischievously. Katsuki pulls her into a headlock, ruffling her hair a second time.

“Deal, but I plan on stayin’ alive.” He lets her go, chuckling as he smooths out the pieces of hair he messed with.

Seeing the two of them get along never fails to make your heart swell with joy. Katsuki has always treated her like his own sister - one that he could easily give back at the end of every day, anyways.

She turns with a huff with her hands in the air.

“You both have my blessing, you should know that. I didn’t marry you two in a sandbox for nothing!”

───

Today Was A Fairytale - Current Day

“It’s an honor to be doing this for a second time. You’re in luck, my vocabulary has grown exponentially since our sandbox days.”

There’s a wave of laughter through the crowd at your sister’s lighthearted joke. You can’t help but smile as Katsuki’s fingers dance across the back of your hand to regather your attention.

God, he looks so damn handsome in that tux. His usual wild hair is slicked back and tamed - an extremely rare sight. Carmine eyes stare back at you, full of devotion and excitement for this next chapter in your fairytale.

“By the power vested in me, and these people as my witness, I pronounce you two as king and queen of the kingdom!”

Friends and family alike cheer and whistle as you and Katsuki intertwine, kissing each other for the first time as husband and wife. He spins you around and dips you low, kissing the tip of your nose playfully.

“I love you,” he mouths, a silent profession of adoration - reserved just for you.

The two of you strut down the aisle to the dance floor in the reception hall, the DJ already queuing the first dance song. Katsuki gently tugs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him as he begins to sway side to side when the music begins to fill the room. You rest your head against his chest and get lost in the moment.

Right now, the world belongs to the two of you. Every worry, struggle, and hardship is stripped away from your lives to give you the peace you deserve.

There’s one thought that lingers in your mind as you catch a glimpse of your teary-eyed sister watching you from the corner of the dance floor, latched onto Izuku’s arm for support.

She tied that golden string with an unbreakable knot.

tags 💥 @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #bakugo fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #☆.rei writes

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fruitmins · 9 months

Text

Agust Dad—Three

➭ summary: Your a producer from another company that he happened to be collaborating with on his 2nd album D-2. At the release party— one drunk action leads to another, you do the worst thing you can do in the industry and change your fate forever.

➭genre: short series, pregnancy au, idol au, angst, dad au

➭warnings: none I think, just pure angst, Yoongi’s kinda stalkerish but that’s okay

note: I don’t wanna drag this out but I don’t wanna make the chapters to long😭 anyways my life has been crazy lately and this story gives me life so THANK YOU SM for all of the support I love you ALL. Updated the tag list for whoever asked to be on it🫶🏽

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @tatyhend @jiminiesunicorn @littlestarstinyseven @baechugff @thelilbutifulthings @tearykth @familiarlikemymirror3 @coree730 @prajusstuff @wobblewobble822 @choisoorin @manuosorioh @0funsite0 @whipwhoops @bergandysam @aloverga @illnevertrustmyselfagain @silentreadersthings

You thought blocking him would fix the problem. Even though you both worked in the same building, you thought blocking him would make everything go away. You thought he would get a hint and let your breathe.

You actually woke up the next morning with a sense of relief – you’re done with Yoongi. He’s finally out of your life and won't be causing more drama and heartbreak.

Or so you thought.

A loud knock on your front door brings you back to harsh reality very quickly. You weren’t expecting anyone, and it's way too early in the day to be a package or delivery. No one made any prior plans to visit you.

In fact, you hadn’t really talked to anyone since the incident besides a couple family members. But they were way to far from Seoul to suddenly drive to your house.

You stumble to your front door, rubbing your eyes as you try to adjust to the light. You have your hand on the doorknob, prepared to open it as you take a small glance through the peephole.

Oh, it’s Yoongi.

It registers in your head and you quickly do a double take, leaning down more to get a better view.

Oh, it’s YOONGI.

He’s head is down as he looks at his phone, so you can’t get the clearest look at his features but you recognize the luxurious long black hair. You recognize the nice black blazer that he always seems to have on. You recognize his freakishly pale skin and his long fingers and veiny hands.

Min Yoongi is at your doorstep at six o clock in the morning.

You quickly swing your door open, causing his head to snap up from his phone as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

You get deja vu as you whisper yell at him, afraid you’d alert the neighbors or some crazy fan would realize that Min Yoongi is on your doorstep.

You should be asking how he got your address and number, but your mind is too much of a mess to ask the right questions.

“Why can’t I come check up on you?” Yoongi frowns, irritated by your cold welcome and you stare at him like he is an alien.

Before you can answer his insane question, he speaks up again. “Wow this house is treacherous.” He mumbles as he glancing around your porch.

You shake your head, dismissing the sudden rude remark on your house. “Yoongi are you insane? You can’t come here like this.” You say in a quiet voice again, glancing around your neighborhood but nothing has changed.

“You blocked me.” Yoongi states, his tone making it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world but his expression was still blank.

“Well I did it because I didn’t want to talk to you.” You state harshly, making it clear how crazy he looked by somehow finding your address and showing up anyways.

He just stands there, remaining unfazed by your outbursts, his gaze never wavering. Instead of saying something back, he simply pushes a piece of paper you hadn’t notice he had, towards you.

You give him a confused look as you take the paper before glancing down to look at it. Upon closer inspection your eyes catch certain words.

Your eyes widen as you realize what the piece of paper was.

You don’t know what you’re going to say, but as you glance back up at him you attempt to move your mouth anyways. He speaks again before you can say even anything. “Take the paternity test.”

You remain silent as you stare down at the paternity test in your hands, the silence between you growing more and more intense. "If the baby isn’t mine, you can block me and I’ll leave you alone. But if it’s mine, I want to be involved..”

For the first time every, you see a hint of emotion in his eyes. His blank expression softens, revealing a hint of who he might really be. “I want to be there.”

You don't say anything, but inside your heart's beating a mile a minute and your thoughts are spinning around your mind as you try to process everything. This moment feels far too surreal, like something out of a drama that only exists in fiction.

Of course you couldn’t believe his words. After everything you spilled to him yesterday, you couldn’t just hop back into his arms. You couldn’t just trust him again. You want to tell him off for showing up at your door like this in the first place.

But still, a faint flicker of hope springs inside you. A tiny voice whispers things in your ear that maybe things will be different. Maybe you won’t be alone. Just maybe you could trust him.

"Fine, I'll take the test." As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel a pang of regret. You can’t deny him the right to know if it’s his, even if you knew that it was already biologically. He was the only man you’d slept with for almost a year.

Without giving him much time to process your words, you close the door breathing heavily as you tired to calm your thoughts. You try to focus on other things for the time being, but despite your efforts to think positively and be strong, a nagging feeling of dread never leaves you. You feel a heavy weight sink in your stomach as you worry about the future and your baby.

You retreat to your room, shutting the door behind you. You take the paternity test out, and after a moment of hesitation, you start taking it. You take a sample of your spit and see that Yoongi has already done the same.

You try to keep your mind blank while you do it, but as soon as you start collecting the sample, your brain is flooded with thoughts of Yoongi and your time together. The night, the sex, everything.

You can’t help but wonder how the you and Yoongi would look together, holding a little baby in your arms with him next to you. You can’t help but think about things as if it was another universe were you met on simpler terms.

Your thoughts quickly spiral into a fantasy, and by the time you finish taking the test, your cheeks are red.

You know it’s stupid but you can’t help but think about what’s going to come after the test gets back to you. It’s going to be proof that the baby is his and he claims to want to be involved.

That he wants to be there.

That he’s here now.

Your mind wanders back to the conversation you had in your office. How you told him over and over that he had abandoned you. And in response, here he was saying that he was here for you.

You don’t know how long you can believe him and you don’t know if the desire to care for the baby will go away.

But one things for certain is that the test will come back positive.

And you’ll no longer escape the reality of what awaits you.

Before you know it, Yoongi shows up to your house a couple days later but this time you actually invited him.

You know that you couldn’t tell him at the company cause you could be caught and it’s not something you should tell him through text, so you invited him to your house.

The doorbell rings and your eyes go to the clock above the door.

It's early, but not that early. With your heart racing, you head to the door and slowly it open to reveal... Yoongi.

You remain frozen for a moment before speaking, your throat dry.

He looks as handsome as ever, though he seems more cautious and serious than usual. He knows why he is here, and you know why he is here.

So you push back any thoughts that aren’t necessary and any memories that don’t need to be brought back. "Hello," you say simply, not knowing what else to say.

"Hello," he greets you, eyes skimming over your stomach, which isn’t yet visible but will be soon.

“Come in..” you say in a quiet voice turning away from him and going to the couch in the living room. Your heart starts racing as you begin to feel anxious about the conversation that lies ahead.

Yoongi enters your house, but the air is tense. The silence hangs so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Eventually, he speaks up, his tone stiff.

"Did you get the results back?" he asks, his deep voice cuts through the silence.

Immediately your heartbeat goes up a notch, and you silently nod in response. “I did..” you mumble, swallowing hard as you pick up the paper off the table and slowly hand it to him, your heart thumping as you watch him closely.

A moment passes as he scans the paper in silence, taking his time and processing the implications.

Finally, he hands the paper back to you, his expression unreadable and the tension in the room as thick as ever.

There, it's all out in the open now, and there's no going back. You’ve officially connected yourself to Min Yoongi.

"So... it's true then."

Yoongi's words hang in the air, heavy.

You nod, your throat squeezed shut with anxiety and worry. Yoongi's gaze wanders across your face, his expression unreadable. His mind must be racing with thoughts of what to do next.

The silence stretches on forever before he finally speaks again. “We need to talk about this," he says calmly, and his tone is decisive.

You take a deep breath before speaking. “Well, I already told you I plan on raising it alone.” You state in a low voice, not making eye contact with him.

Yoongi exhales a shaky frustrated breath, his emotions taking the wheel once more. He takes a moment to collect himself before finding the right words. "And you think I'm just supposed to sit by and let that happen?" He challenges.

You blink, and for a moment, you can tell how serious he's being and you know you’re being stubborn but you can’t help but think of all the package Yoongi came with. His career, his fans, his schedule.

“It’ll just be easier for you and for me if you weren’t involved.” You state, with a heavy sigh. Yoongi's expression doesn't change, but his body language shifts. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, the tension in his stance palpable.

"Easier for you, maybe. But don’t you think the baby has a right to know who its father is?” He asks and the question catches you by the throat and makes it dry.

Your stomach is filled with guilt, because you know he has a point. You go quiet at the moment, suddenly feeling guilty Yoongi had a right to be involved and the baby had the right to have a father.

And if Yoongi has asked this question, then maybe he was being serious. Maybe he actually cared about the child.

“So, how much do you want to be involved in?” You ask, glancing up at him to see that his eyes narrow momentarily before he responds, but his tone gradually softens as he sees the guilt in your eyes.

"I want to know the baby," he says, the softness in his tone taking you by surprise. "I want to be there for everything, from the first doctor's visits to the first words. I want to be part of its life."

You notice that whenever he says "the baby", his eyes flick towards your stomach as he speaks, even though there’s not visual of the baby even being there.

“What about your career? What about the media?” You question, slightly worried how his fans will react, how his company will react. It wasn’t everyday an idol got some random woman knocked up.

Yoongi relaxes a little after you concede the point, no longer challenging you. "Don't worry about that," Yoongi says quickly, his voice full of determination.

"The media's always going to make a big fuss, but I'll handle it. I'll handle everything. You shouldn’t stress about anything, especially if it’s not your problem to worry about."

His words make your heart flutter, but you're not sure if it's happiness or anxiety. It was like when he looked at the paper, his whole demeanor changed. His whole mindset changed, and you don’t know if you should be excited or worried.

"Listen," he says softly, "I never dreamed that something like this would happen, but now that it has, I want to make sure this baby has the best life possible. I’m not going to take the easy way out, that’s not what a real man does.” He states and despite his tough exterior, Yoongi is determined to be a present father for your child-to-be.

It’s silent again, millions of thoughts and emotions racing through your mind. “Well, I have a seven week appointment, if you want to come..” You mumble in a quiet voice.

“I’ll be there.”

He says, way to quickly.

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forthelostones · 3 months

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #3

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. what a diff'rence a day made by dinah washington ♫

Today had been overwhelming, to say the least, you thought to yourself as the woman bent over the center consul to retrieve something out of her bag. Her ass was firmly hugged by the cargos she wore and you had the temptation to press your hips against her. You found your lips back between your teeth only to relieve them as she looked down at you. Her mouth was slightly damp from the swipe of a tongue before she spoke. This was fucked up, right? Ogling over a woman older than you but more so another woman when you had Ellie.

“Should I bring anything?” You asked.

“Just yourself, a few pictures and I’ll bring my research too.”

She leaned against the shining truck with such machismo that it made you want to submit to her. Ellie never made you feel that way. Was it the heat causing the delirium?

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You mutter, trying to think of something other than her arms and how they’re delicately crossed enough to lift and frame her petite breasts.

She raised her eyebrows to say a quiet goodbye with a side smirk and you avoided her eyes and continued walking. A weight sank to the bottom of your ankles making it seem like you were slugging through mud. Abby looked more excited pounding a nail into wood than speaking to you. Her face had a general exhaustion as if she was translating adult words to a baby. For the first time since being home, you wished the neighborhood had a little more clamor to distract you from the turmoil pooling in your brain.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

Ellie was in your shower, washing the dirt from today’s job off her body. The door was open and the pale bubbles on her skin should entice you to jump in with her. But you just watched and wondered what was changing? When you first got together all you wanted to do was be in her skin. Generally, it felt good to be with Ellie. To know that you can achieve a level of companionship with someone else was accomplishment enough.

“Hey,” she hollers over the falling water. “C’mere.”

The drop of her voice was soft like her wet hair with shampoo still looped between her inky strands.

“El, turn around.”

She turns without hesitating, as you tilt her chin back to rinse out the suds. She opens her eyes and brings her lips to yours. For a moment it does feel good. Her mouth is slick and warm. Ellie's hands come to your shoulders, wet with body wash as she deepens the kiss. Although the water splashes onto the floor, you don’t care, it’ll be replaced soon anyway. Your mind dots off to think about Abby in your bedroom this morning. It was foreign seeing her in a space where you never imagined her to be. She looked out of place but had the potential to fit in.

Ellie laces her hands behind your neck, tongue sliding inside with no force. She moans gently into your mouth and you bring your hand to her darkened crotch. Her kiss became carnivorous at the sudden action. Nails sharpening into skin, barring her teeth, and soggy smacking. It had been so long since you initiated any contact with her. The groan that vibrated off the walls showed that too.

“I love you.” She whispers into your ear.

Her mouth lingers there, waiting for your response, but something chokes you up. Like a cough or a sickened throat. “You’re my everything El.” You reply.

It wasn’t a lie, you loved Ellie for everything she was. But you knew she could sense a change in your behavior and you hoped that this orgasm you were giving to her would hold off her suspicion.

Ellie looked out the window and watched the neighbors follow their decades-old routines. She liked their displays of solitude and never failed to tell you about how she wanted that too. You came up beside her, holding the small of her back, peering towards the line of cherry trucks, wondering what Abby was up to now. Ellie turns to place a welcoming kiss on your cheek with her hand following shortly behind.

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“Ellie, what?”

“I’m thinking too far into the future. I know I need to be present with you.”

You scoff. “I’m just a little stressed. Has nothing to do with you, you're perfect.”

“Let's talk,”

You both travel to the bed and she takes your fingers into her hands.

“It’s a lot. I just want to be here with you.” You lean in to kiss her.

“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

It was unusual for you to put yourself onto Ellie like this but you did, again. Pulling her pants to the floor after you got up and locked the door. You wanted her to shut up and three fingers were the solution. You closed your eyes with your face buried into her hot collarbone, wishing it was someone else’s, not particularly Abby’s but not Ellie’s. A rupture of tears threatened to spill over as Ellie came to a climax, covering her mouth with a quivering hand. She turned to you just before any tears fell as you excused yourself to the bathroom.

You started to think about the conversations you and Ellie had often, which always led to the same thing. Someone gripping the bed frame and falling asleep to do it again the next day. Even with Ellie snoring on your shoulder amongst the orchestrated noises of bird chirps and lawnmowers, all you could think of was your meeting with Abigail tomorrow.

The night seemed long as you carefully removed Ellie from your body to tidy your room. It was more than embarrassing that Abby came into your room and almost fell over because of the mess. You didn’t have the will to start unboxing your college life because that meant it was time to face reality. As you sorted the items, you thought about what someone like Abby enjoyed doing outside of working 10-hour days. Obviously, she worked out, probably more out of necessity to keep her figure at her age. What else did she like? Your hands dust off a cover of Carmilla, and you stifle your laugh as you recall the story of blood lust and women. Ellie never understood your desire to read. She didn’t understand much about you, not that you wanted to think about that often.

Dating someone who took the trade school route versus college has created tension in your relationship. Ellie was a smart girl who knew what she wanted but never related to your stress in college. She was street smart, not book smart. When midterms rolled around you had to explain to her the importance that you two keep distance so you can focus. She accused you of desiring a connection with college more than her. She was insecure that you got to experience something she always imagined. Before you two were dating she would sit in the bar and brag about how she didn’t need school to be successful, as a way to flirt, but it came off as ignorance. So, that translated in various ways such as conversations about your career, the relationship, and even books.

She would kiss your neck to get the attention back on her when you read before bed. When you playful shoved you away that’s when she’d ice you out for hours. It was exhausting. Ellie wanted you to be hers in a different way. She did celebrate you and you appreciated that but there was an unspoken desire for you to be her wife in a traditional sense. She wanted you to follow her, no matter what. She was shocked when you denied her immediate advances to move away with her for the new job.

“I thought you loved me? I thought we were going somewhere?” Her brow furrowed.

“We are, I promise but I can’t just do what you want and not discover who I am before settling down.”

I’m your idea of settling, huh? She said quietly to herself but you pretended not to hear her.

“I want us to be together. I don’t like that long-distance shit, okay?”

You wanted to challenge her more but just sat quietly and you two didn’t speak on it for the rest of the day, proceeding as if what happened didn’t warrant more conversation. Shortly after Ellie's hands were between your legs to apologize. That's just the way you two operated.

Ellie stirs under the loose sheet and you dart your eyes over to her. You pull out more books and line them up against the wall getting startled by your phone vibrating on your side table.

1:30 AM: Would it be a bother for you to provide some shades of black and gold with your findings too?

You look at Ellie with her mouth open and body pressed deeply into the mattress before replying. Normal business hours were not a thing to Ms. Anderson, obviously. A message at 1 am caused you to squirm a little, and a shocking edge of exhilaration coursed through your body. Any normal person would simply reply in the morning but it wasn’t as simple as that.

1:32 AM: not at all.

1:32 AM: Thank you :)

Your eyes become one with the typed emoticon. As if Abby's eyes are the colons and pooling deep blue right before you. Something so simple but it made a part of you grin. A rush came through your body as you looked out the dark window, hoping she'd magically appear outside your window, and beckon you to come outside. Such immature thoughts, you whispered to yourself.

1:34 AM: no problem, have a good night.

She just left the message on read. That feeling you had vanished quicker than it came. That was stupid, you thought as Ellie mumbled a string of unintelligible words. She sits up, stretching her legs by throwing her feet over the edge of the bed and shuffling over to you. You lock your phone and place it back in its original place, face down.

“Come on, I need you. I just got so cold.” She demands, holding your waist.

You didn’t tell Ellie about the consultation with Abby, it wasn’t needed. She would be at work and you’d go to her place just after the meeting. You didn't feel compelled to share, so you didn't. To keep yourself busy you broke down all the leftover boxes and took them outside to the recycling. Only one truck was parked on your street. You shrugged like you didn't care but you grew curious about where Ms. Anderson spent her morning.

Abby’s office was only thirty minutes away and you drove slow to not seem as eager and still arrived on time. A large bubble felt as if it was going to pop any moment when you saw her truck in the driveway. Her office was her house. She lived at the peak of a dead-end road covered by the twinkling of leaves above her home. Any normal person would let the collection of branches and acorns rot in the street but as a woman who owns a landscaping business, it was the opposite. Even the carving of the bushes left you in awe — you couldn’t believe you suddenly took such an interest in bushes. She had the address printed onto a rectangular yard lantern surrounded by a pool of ruby-red roses. It was beautiful.

The door swings open as you’re tilted downwards smelling the flowers in front of you. You were slightly embarrassed she caught you and removed your hand from the stem. She squints with what you see is a small grin and welcomes you in. The scent emitting from her house is syrupy vanilla and pine. A combination that's pungent yet sweet. Abby is wearing dark blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with her skin exposed underneath, just shy of two undone buttons. Against the white linen, her skin is specked with brown freckles that deepen her slightly warm skin. Her hair had been brushed and bone straight with grown-out layers you didn’t get to see with her hair up.

“Hope it wasn’t too scary finding the place.” She says, being the personification of sunshine.

You look down at her feet, covered in Superman socks hidden under the cuff of her long jeans.

“Not at all, it’s nice that you have this little section of the neighborhood all to yourself.” You add, slipping your shoes off in front of the entrance. Her body is warm behind yours as she moves to close the door. Her living room was small but the floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves were an impressive use of space. The couch is in the middle of the room, peeling with softened worn leather. Instead of a TV, there was an out-of-commission fireplace with a mantle above it. There were a few photos in mismatched frames and stacked books with titles you could not read.

“I was super lucky when I found it.”

You were scared to turn to her but finally did. With her hands on her hips, she nodded for you to follow her into the other room. You took a swift look into her kitchen before turning left down the hallway to her office. It was painted a pale yellow with black and white portraits in black frames of houses she remodeled. The large wooden desk was pushed against the far wall, peering over the backyard. The sun shuttered through the leaves casting a beautiful shadow onto the healthy, neon-green lawn. Abby built the fence and had a garden bed in the far corner, a compost hidden near a bush, and one lone white lounge lawn chair in the middle of it all. Another wall of books crowded the room with words on architecture and lifestyle.

“I would love to live here,” You mutter, turning towards Abby leaning in the door frame. She admires her handiwork which makes you wonder how much of this house she remodeled. “Seems… peaceful.”

“It is when you can enjoy it. I’m looking to move out of the hands-on position to being the big boss behind the desk.”

“I am sure you’ll have no problems with that.” You reply, observing the plain floorboards to avoid her eyes.

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks.

You notice her thumbs rotating within each other and her mouth twisting as she asks you the question. You welcome whatever she’d like to bring you, hoping it was wine to loosen her, but knowing it wouldn’t be. But seeing her so casually made you relax a little. You sat at her desk, legs crossed, looking at the seclusion of her life. This was a level of solitude you could become accustomed to.

“Arnold Palmer. I hope you like it. One of my neighbors has a lemon tree and she brings them to me all the time, so it may be a bit tart.” She reaches behind you to place the glass on your right side, the flowing linen brushes your back gently, leaving you desiring more. She pulls out another chair and a folder stuffed in the drawer with your last name on it.

“So, black and gold?” She asked, with a joking charisma.

You bring the glass up to your lips and turn to her, swiping your tongue on your tangy bottom lip. The brush of your knee against her thick pants makes you retract and slide further back on the chair to create a professional distance. Up close her eyes twinkled under the warm light stretching through the window. You felt a pool quake beneath you. Suddenly you wished you didn’t put yourself in this position. So close to her, in her home, with lingering thoughts of her bedroom plaguing your mind. You imagined all-white bedding with many soft pillows and two bedside tables. A large window overlooking the front yard and sheer blue curtains. Maybe even a small desk in the corner stacked with old books.

“Is that boring to you?”

“What? Black and gold? I mean no, it’s not about me.” She shrugged.

“But I value your professional opinion.” You retort.

Her icy eyes widen at the comment, either shocked by your directness or desire to hear what she has to say. You wipe your forehead with the back of your palm and direct your gaze to the folder in front of you.

“Okay well, I think you should go for something more unique. Fun tiling, I can definitely have a custom vanity put in there, a standard upright shower.”

You blinked and suddenly she had a pencil in her hand, sketching on a blank sheet of graphing paper. Her lines were loose but neat, you watched how the tip of her index finger guided the graphite on the thin sheet.

#abby anderson smut #lesbian #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #ellie williams #abby anderson #abby and ellie #abby anderson x reader

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kierewrites · 5 months

Text

What Would Karma Do... when a cruel teacher attacks your class?

navi - masterlist

Karma Akabane x Reader

Mood Song: judas

Summary: Remember the beloved Assassination Classroom anime? This is pretty much that, except you enter the picture of Karma's chaotic school year. Let's see just how compatible the two of you are.

Warnings: depictions of violence, cursing, karma being a psycho (when is he not tho), angst with a tooth rotting sweet ending :3

"Woah! Is that..."

"I..It's cake!"

"Hand made eclairs too!

That was just a few of the many comments from your classmates as you all ogled over the picnic blanket full of sweet treats from all around the world.

Most of the time your P.E. classes consisted of intense training regimens or one-on-one combat lessons with Karasuma, but today played out so much differently than any class before.

Though even with this bizarre change, you couldn't say you were upset. Today had already started rough when you learned Karma was skipping class all day, even though you begged him not to...

"Karma.. staying up late.. isn't an.. excuse for you to.. ditch.. classes!" You whined in between kisses that were surely meant to shut you up.

Karma simply rolled his eyes before pinching your nose and smirking lazily.

"You're the one keeping me up so late angel~"

Pinching your lips together into that adorable pout he loved, you smacked his hand away and narrowed your eyes down at him, "Yeah but I'm still going to class tomorrow."

Karma let out a low growl at this, flipping you over so that he was on top of you now. He tried nearly every tactic he could to convince you to ditch school with him, but even he should’ve known nothing could stand between your academic resolve.

So since your little rascal decided to truly ditch as he promised, you couldn't help but smile for the first time all day upon seeing the lovely treats before you. There were even a few custom treats from back home that you recognized.

"T..These look sorta pricey sir, are you sure?" Isogai questioned nervously, seeming to be the only student that hadn't fallen under the trance of the sweet assortments.

The new P.E. teacher simply boomed with laughter, offering a warm smile to the class.

"Yeah! Chow down kiddos!" The teacher spoke with a large grin, "I didn't break the bank so we could stare at these babies all day!"

"You really know your way around branded sweets dontcha?" Yada spoke with a grin.

Your new teacher simply smiled before closing his eyes,

"Trust me when it comes to the good stuff.. it's love~"

All of the students were in awe at such a generous and kind teacher, not that Karasuma was mean or anything, but this was not your typical day in the Assassination Classroom.

"So you're gonna take over P.E. to help Mr. Karasuma get caught up?" Nagisa questioned, though his eyes were still glued to the chocolate eclair in his hands.

"Yup! Those are my marching orders!" The teacher declared as he looked back at the blue haired boy, "Poor guy needs some time to himself."

The students all seemed to smile at that. Admittedly it felt like Karasuma was running a one man show over here. Sure Korosensei and Professor Jelavic were around, but most of the time it felt like Karasuma was even babysitting them too.

"Wow these treats are truly amazing, thank you so much-" You began, only to be interrupted by a pink blob quite literally drooling over your new P.E teacher's shoulder.

"Ah! This fellow must be Korosensei!" Your teacher exclaimed excitedly, not even minding the literal drool dripping down his shoulder, "Please help yourself!"

Those words seemed to be the final string holding your teacher back as he wildly dug into the treats on the blanket.

"You know sir, being colleagues, you and Mr. Karasuma are night and day." Kimura spoke with a tilted head, Hara joining in with a smile,

"He's nice to us and all but you're like the neighborhood dad!"

The teacher's eyes seemed to light up at that as he let out another booming laugh before dragging you all into his arms with a tight hug.

"Dad.. I like the sound of that!"

All of your classmates seemed to laugh in unison, everyone enjoying the warm embrace and not seeming to worry about the strangely kind personality the teacher had.

"Alright everybody here?" Your teacher spoke with a smile, standing before your classmates ready for class.

"Now things are going to be tougher than usual but stick it out like the champs I know you are and we're talking more sweets!" Mr. Takaoka spoke with a grin.

"For us? Or are you really just saving them for yourself?" Nakamura sneered.

"Nope nope..." Mr. Takaoka said with a sheepish smile as he stuck his tongue out and patted his large tummy, "Don't wanna ruin this girlish figure!"

With that the class howled into laughter. This guy was almost too good to be true. Plenty generous, good sense of humor, a true care for the craft he's teaching. He really was like a big old papa bear.

Looking around you noticed your classmates seemed happy enough, nobody was ever really smiling during P.E. class, rather panting and trying to catch their breath. Maybe this would be a good change for you guys?

"Okay then, along with your new training regimen comes a new schedule!"

You along with the rest of your students looked up to the colorful paper your teacher was holding up before raising a brow as he began to hand them out.

The schedule before you was.. chaotic to say the least.

Almost every period was P.E. class, many of your academic electives now switched to training. Along with that instead of your normal school day length, the training went on until nine o'clock at night!

Looking up with wide eyes you noticed your classmates all looking around with the same bewildered faces. Maybe he was just joking around with you again?

"We have ten periods now?!"

"We train till nine pm?"

Your classmates all threw thirty different questions at the man who stood before you, his smile never faltering as everyone expressed their concerns about the new schedule.

"That's the idea, little grasshoppers!" Your teacher exclaimed with a smile, his joyful personality contrasting with the reality of the situation, "Don't be glum, think of the payoff! This curriculum will turn you into lean, mean, killing machines-"

"Wait hold up hold up, this is ridiculous!" Maehara interrupted, Mr. Takaoka's smile faltering, "First off this is school, we gotta think about grades too."

Mr. Takaoka simply smiled sheepishly while scratching the back of his head. Maybe this guy was just so hardcore he forgot you guys actually had to take academic classes.

"I mean come on we can't go by this! We're supposed to stu-"

The boy's words were cut off when the teacher placed a gentle palm on the top of his head. Everyone seemed to raise a brow until he lifted his knee up and slammed Maehara's chin down onto his knee with a painful crack.

The entire class gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as you backed up on your knees. Was this some sort of sick joke? Did he and Maehara practice this skit? The way his practically lifeless form dropped to the ground really didn't make it seem that way.

"Rule number one, we don't do can't." Mr. Takaoka spoke in a dark voice, his smile still spread across his lips proudly as he watched the boy twitch on the ground in pain.

"Rule number two, we are a family and I'm the dad," He continued to speak, his continuous use of the word "dad" suddenly backfiring on all of you, "Show me a family where dad ain't in charge and I'll show you a family in crisis."

The man began to lecture you all, ominous smile still spread across his face as he walked around your group with his hands expectantly behind his back.

"A father loves each of his children unconditionally, the thought of even losing one of ‘em breaks his heart. We're gonna save the world kids, and we're gonna do it as a family." Mr. Takaoka finished, gathering Mimura and Kanzaki in his arms.

All of you seemed to flinch when he did this, especially your two classmates in his embrace. The sight of both of their cringing faces made you feel hot inside, not in the good way.

"I.. Actually sir, to tell you the truth.." Kanzaki spoke nervously, tugging herself out of his embrace and standing up with her arms nervously clamped together, "I'm not much for P.E. If I have to do it, I much prefer Mr. Karasuma's class!"

You couldn't help but smile at Kanzaki. Even in such a tense situation she always made sure to remain polite and cheerful as she smiled up to the aggressive teacher.

But as soon as you saw Mr. Takaoka lick his lip you knew this wouldn't end well.

Without hesitation he smacked his hand across her face so hard she flew backwards and rolled against the dirt with a cry.

"Kanzaki!" Your classmates cried as a few rushed over to her trembling figure.

"Looks like we're having a bit of a communication gap!" Mr. Takaoka said with that same dreadfully cheerful smile. The sight made your fists clench, Nagisa already seeming to notice the gears in your head turning as he placed a gentle palm on your wrist.

"The only answer here is yes-"

"NO!"

Your sudden shout caused the teacher to pause, his head tilting as a sadistic smile formed on his lips.

"Oh?"

"You can't keep hurting our classmates just because we don't do what you say. You aren't our real teacher and your training regimen is borderline insane! How are we supposed to pass our exams with your foot up our ass till the late night hours?"

Your teacher simply chuckled as he looked at you with wide crazed eyes through his hooded expression.

"Bothers you that much little grasshopper? Come show me what you're gonna do about it then!"

Letting out an annoyed growl you got low, ready to pounce until Nagisa grabbed your wrist more firmly this time.

"Y/n don't bother, he's going to seriously hurt you! This guy clearly isn't a regular gym coach."

Ignoring what he said, all you could do was glare into this man's beady little eyes that only fueled your fire.

"Let go, Nagisa." You hissed before snatching your wrist out of his grasp and darting forward.

Nagisa along with the rest of your classmates watched nervously. As sweet as you were, some of Karma's reckless traits were really starting to rub off on you. Ever since you all had gotten kidnapped, you swore you would get stronger so you could protect everyone, but of course that didn't stop the class from worrying.

Darting forward you blocked his first swing, quickly maneuvering your footing so that you spun behind him, forming your palm to be firm and flat before chopping your hand on the back of his neck right where the pressure point is.

After watching Nagisa and Karma train together, and even getting to train a little bit with them whenever Karma would finally give in to your whining, you learned a few tricks from both of them.

Nagisa was definitely a defensive fighter, more so focused on strategic attacks and blocking. Karma was a hands on offensive attacker, he wasted no time to give the opponent a moment to think.

Finally it seemed like your training had paid off as Mr. Takaoka let out a shout of pain as he stumbled forward onto his hands and knees, your strike seeming to make his vision blur.

"Nice hit Y/n!" Nakumura shouted, your classmates all cheering for you as you wiped a blade of sweat from your forehead.

"It's just like Karma taught me, it's not about the power of your strike but the precision!" You said with a smile, giving the gym teacher one last glance.

A small part of you felt giddy about the experience as you began to rehearse in your head how you would brag to Karma about taking down a grown man. Finally your training was beginning to pay off.

As you began to walk back to your cheerful classmates you felt life almost go into slow motion when you saw Nagisa's smile begin to drop, his eyes widened as he screamed your name and pointed behind you.

Before you could even turn your head back a quarter of the way you felt a strong grip on the back of your ponytail causing you to yell out in pain when the hand tugged you backwards.

"Not so fast you smug bitch." Mr. Takaoka growled with a psychotic smile as he swung his leg up and over your body before cracking it down on your abdomen hard.

The feeling alone had the breath knocked out of you before you could even hit the ground. You let out a sharp scream until your back hit the ground so hard you bounced up from the sheer force, a garbled choke escaping your lips before you officially fell to the ground.

"Y/n!" Your class shouted, Nagisa already sliding on his knees towards you as you struggled for air, loud chokes and gasps filling the air while you shriveled up holding your abdomen in pain. The lack of air wouldn't even allow you to cry as you felt your vision grow blurry.

Nagisa quickly lifted your shirt just enough to see a dark purple bruise forming across your skin, the feeling of something warm and wet being coughed up onto his hand that was keeping you upright.

His eyes widened at the sight of blood, his eyes frantically looking down at you as more of your classmates began to try and help you up.

How had your cheerful P.E. class turned into a bloodbath?

Karma continued to huff out profanities as he shuffled up the dirt hill, hands shoved deep in his pockets as a scowl formed on his lips.

"Dumb angel, always making me feel so damn guilty..." Karma mumbled as he kicked a few stones on the way.

It was weird, before he met you he never really cared about anything when it came to academics. He wasn't even depressed or stupid or even lazy, he just didn't quite care.

Where was school going to get him anyway? Graduate next year and go to college to take the same brainwashing classes he's taken since he learned to walk? To get a piece of paper that says congrats, now you can make money!

It was all ridiculous to him.

But ever since your stupid adorable ass showed up into his life, he saw things differently.

He wanted to have goals in life just to impress you, he wanted to go to college wherever you were going so you could grow together. He wanted to see the world with you, always be at your side so he would never lose you.

He could see it now, both of you finally done with all this school bullshit and sitting along the edge of a cliff that overlooked a vast blue sea as the sun would set along the dazzling colorful sky.

You would be sitting in between his crossed legs as he held you in a tight warm embrace.

"I love you Karma." You would whisper ever so gently from those sweet lips of yours as you tilted your head back so your sparkling hues could stare into his own.

Karma would smile down to you, watching as the ocean breeze danced through both of your locks as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too Y/n." Karma whispered aloud, the sound of his own voice snapping him back to reality as he let out a growl and shook his head.

You were like a demon haunting his mind except quite the opposite, more like an angel from heaven always clouding his mind in the best way possible. You truly were going to be the death of him.

Once finally making it up the hill, Karma came up with the excuse that he forgot his textbook for when his classmates would surely ask why he decided to show up halfway through the day. He would never admit it was just so he could see your pretty face before the day's end.

As he shuffled up the steps lazily he raised a brow when he saw a few students outside, crowded around Mr. Karasuma and some other large man that seemed to be smiling a bit crazy.

Raising a brow he shrugged with a smirk, assuming they were doing some strange training routine.

Sliding the wood door open he walked down the hallway until he saw class 3-E and slid the door open, awaiting to see the rest of his classmates studying silently, only to find the room completely empty.

Freezing he narrowed his eyes around the room, something wasn't right.

There were only about half of his classmates outside training, you not being one of them, where could the rest of you have been? It's not like they split the boys and girls up, he saw a mix of them all outside.

Shutting the classroom door, he decided to make his way back outside until he heard a voice come from down the hall.

"Y/n you have got to stop being so reckless, it's going to get you killed one day!"

The very sentence froze Karma in his tracks, his ears perking up at the sound of your name.

Your weak cough filled the air sending chills down his spine as you spoke up.

"But I..I didn’t die, did I? I had to do something, he was going to hurt all of our classmates!"

The redhead slowly turned his head around with grit teeth, his eyes falling on the door where all the sound was coming from, only to see it was the nurses office.

Karma was praying for his sake and your sake that you just played some crazy prank on someone and that you didn't actually do something reckless. But knowing you, he was sure that wasn't the case.

"So you thought it would be better if he hurt you?" A voice spoke up, "You know Karma's going to kill you for this."

Crescent shaped moons began to form into the redhead’s palms as the very thing he worried about had been confirmed, someone hurt you. Quickly he began to storm down the hallway, ready to slide the door open before he heard your pathetic voice.

"Well I didn't plan on him crushing my spleen," You spoke out stubbornly with another cough, Karma's vision slowly starting to turn red with anger, "Besides, Karma skipped today so Karma will never find out about this. Got it?"

At this Karma froze as a sadistic smile quirked upon his lips, you sneaky little fox.

Putting on the most neutral face he could even amongst his slow boiling anger, he slid the door open causing everyone in the room to jump. His first sight was you, Maehara, and Kanzaki all laying down on the nurse tables. Sugino, Okuda, and Yada were also in the room which must have been the people talking.

"Oh Y/n dearest, am I interrupting something? Sorry I was late for class, just slept through my alarm!" Karma said in a gentle tone, sticking his tongue out to appear innocent.

The sight of your red headed boyfriend caused you to shriek as you forced yourself off of the bed with a grunt. Once you realized standing wasn't quite an option, you leaned on the side of the table, trying to appear as casual as possible. All that silenced your pained whimper was the harsh bite you held on your tongue while you forced a smile.

"K..Karma! I thought uh.. I thought you were skipping today!" You spoke cheekily, though it was clear to everyone how heavy you were breathing. Sugino looked at you nervously to make sure you didn't collapse on the floor as everyone else in the room felt the awkward tension.

Karma smirked down to you, though it wasn’t his signature cocky one, but rather a menacing one as he sauntered over to you.

"Oh you know, I wouldn't want to miss any lessons would I?" Karma spoke darkly, though he kept that same cheerful smile on his face, "Besides I couldn’t possibly make it through the day without a hug from my sweet angel.”

The sound of that caused your eyes to widen, quickly backing up the best you could as he neared you.

"Oh really? I don't know uh.. I'm not quite feeling a hug right now… I'm actually kind of hot!" You exclaimed, your classmates nervously watching as Karma neared you while you ran out of space to back into, "You don't wanna hug all my icky sweat d..do you?"

"Oh, I think I do." Karma growled, forcing his arms around you gently.

Sure enough as soon as he made even the gentlest of contact, you let out a cry as your knees buckled beneath you, Karma quickly caught you before lifting you up on the bed once more.

"Fuck Y/n, do you think I’m an idiot?” Karma growled, grabbing both of your fighting wrists that were trying to push his hands away with one hand, while lifting your shirt up with the other.

Though Karma knew you were injured, he never in a million years expected to see the wound that was displayed across your abdomen. A large maroon bruise stretched from either side of your stomach, the color getting darker at the center.

The redhead let go of your wrists so as not to hurt you any further, deciding to instead grip the edge of the metal bed, the sound of the cool material bending sending chills through your body.

"Who did this?" Karma growled, looking up at you through rageful hooded eyes.

Swallowing nervously you quickly placed both of your hands on either side of his shoulders, remembering how violent he got last time you got kidnapped, he couldn't have you killing your actual teacher, he would surely get expelled.

"Karma calm down, it's seriously not as bad as it looks I promise-"

The sound of his fist slamming down on the table beside you caused you to jump with a small yelp, his pupils narrowed to slits as he angrily glared at you.

"Damnit Y/n, stop trying to be the hero and tell me who did this! It looks like they crushed one of your fucking organs!"

"They made her cough up blood too." Yada spoke from over your shoulder, your head quickly whipping back to glare at her as her comment only fueled your boyfriend's raging mood.

Inhaling sharply, Karma tried to calm himself down so as not to yell at you before looking at you once more.

"Y/n, tell me who did this to you."

Biting at the corner of your lip you let out a defeated sigh and looked away sheepishly.

"We got a new P.E. teacher today, Mr. Takaoka, and he seemed really nice and cheerful... he even brought us treats!" You exclaimed trying to defend your reasoning, "B..But then when he showed us our new training schedules he took out all of our academic classes and was going to make us stay till nine pm everyday."

The sound of that made Karma raise his brow briefly, even to him that made no sense.

"So a few classmates expressed that to him, Maehara and Kanzaki..." You said softly, Karma just now noticing his two other injured classmates that only made him angrier, "But he lashed out and attacked them brutally… He was going to hurt every last one of them if I didn't step in, I swear I wasn't being reckless Karma I just…"

Karma's stern expression broke for a second when he heard you choke over words, you looked down before looking back up with glossy eyes once more.

"I couldn't just stand by again!"

The redhead flinched slightly at this, flashbacks to your conversation after you had gotten kidnapped flooding back to him. Of course you weren't being an idiot like him, you just wanted to protect your friends.

The redhead looked up to the ceiling in a poor attempt to hide the insane rage in his eyes, a ragged sigh escaping his lips before he looked down at you softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your thigh.

"So what you're saying is I need to put an old fuck in his place then, yeah?"

Your eyes widened at this as you watched him stroll out of the nurse's office, you quickly tried to follow after him but not before falling into Okuda's arms.

"Y/n you really shouldn't move..." Okuda said softly as you wrapped your arm around her shoulder.

Looking down at the gentle girl pleadingly, you glanced back at the door, "Okuda please, Karma can't fight that guy, he's going to get hurt!"

Okuda bit her lip before looking at her other classmates that shared worried looks.

"Let's all go out together so we can at least warn Mr. Karasuma and Korosensei."

Karma being "mad" was an understatement.

Admittedly he did snap at you which he certainly didn't mean to, but now he was angry for a different reason.

Like hell was some old fashioned pig of a man going to throw his classmates around. Especially after you still were recovering from the kidnapping scenario. He was getting so excited to see your combat skills were vastly improving, so to see you torn back down to square one royally pissed him off.

Slamming the door open he noticed a few eyes on him, but most of them were on the large teacher that was nestled in between Nagisa's legs. Karma’s eyes widened for a moment, impressed that Nagisa was able to take down such a beast.

Clearly the blue haired boy had gotten stronger, and he was sure Nagisa felt just as much rage as him after seeing you in such a state. Still though, he noticed the large teacher get up once Nagisa let go so he knew this wasn't quite over yet.

Soon after Karma began to head to the scene you and your other injured classmates slowly made your way outside, the sight of Karma getting closer to the man causing you to freeze.

Of course Karma could take care of himself, hell you wouldn't be surprised if he could take this man out with his bare fists alone, but it was clear Mr. Takaoka wasn't a fair fighter. Karma was skilled, but he couldn't be prepared if the crazed man pulled a gun on him.

You attempted to call out Karma's name but he pretended not to hear you as he walked to the scene.

Looking around you quickly shouted Mr. Karasuma's name, his concerned eyes moved over to you before looking over to an angry Karma as you pointed to him. Mr. Karasuma gave you a curt nod in understanding.

At this point all you could do was watch the scene play out and hope nobody else got hurt.

"You ungrateful punks." Mr. Takaoka growled, his fists clenched and his body flexed like he was a giant bear, "You think it's fun shaming your father figure, huh?

A pit sat in the bottom of your stomach. Even as beat up as Mr. Takaoka looked, he was still screaming his head off. The expression of pure rage he wore while looking at Nagisa made it look like he was going to rip his head off.

"Having the time of your life pretending you won? Hope it was worth it cause daddy's about to rip you apart! Mind body and soul-"

All of the students began to yell for Nagisa to move, Mr. Karasuma ready to run and stop this crazed man's punch, but Korosensei simply placed his tentacle on Mr. Karasuma's shoulder to hold him back.

Mr. Karasuma angrily looked back at Korosensei in confusion as to why he stopped him, but when a crack filled the air all eyes worriedly looked over to Nagisa.

Once the dust cleared up from the dirt beneath him, everyone gasped in surprise when they saw an unharmed Nagisa with his arm defensively up. If he didn't get hit then what was the cracking sound?

Sure enough the class' crazy redhead stood before Mr. Takaoka, his meaty fist caught by Karma's hand.

Mr. Takaoka let out a grunt of surprise, seeing that his quivering fist stood no chance against Karma’s simple block. To make matters worse, Karma lazily smirked up to the man and let out a sneer.

"Is that all you've got, old man?"

Mr. Takaoka began to shake in fury as he ripped his hand from Karma's grasp.

"Why you little-"

The gym teacher began to throw another fist with much more force, but Karma simply caught it once again and used the force to swing his arm around and pin it against his back so that he couldn't move.

"Nobody likes a sore loser~" Karma cooed tauntingly before his foot connected with Mr. Takaoka's spine, the kick pummeling the teacher into the ground as his face dragged against the dirt.

Everyone watched with wide eyes. No matter how many times they saw Karma in action, everyone seemed to forget his own raw strength beyond his insane ability.

You finally let out a sigh of relief you didn't realize you were holding in this entire time as you watched Karma walk beside the teacher.

Mr. Takaoka attempted to lift his head weakly from the ground, still mumbling out profanities but Karma simply grabbed the base of his skull and slammed his face into the dirt before moving his face real close to the teachers.

The P.E. teacher felt fear flow over his body, the same way he did when Nagisa made his cheap move on him in their previous fight. The red haired boy practically stared into his soul with those sinister golden hues that looked almost excited to have him in such a degrading position.

"Tell me Mr. Tough Guy," Karma spoke calmly before roughly yanking Mr. Takaoka's head to face you and your injured classmates, "Were you the one that harmed my classmates over there?"

The teacher let out a grunt through his teeth, words struggling to form to his lips out of a mix of pain and anger.

Karma simply laughed, sending chills to those around him as he yanked the man's head to face Karma once again, making sure to tug harshly on his hair making Mr. Takaoka scream out in pain.

"I said.." Karma growled with narrowed eyes, "Did you lay even a single finger on my angel over there?"

Mr. Takaoka narrowed his eyes back to Karma, a slight grin coming on his face when he realized where all the anger was bubbling up from within the redhead. Making eye contact with you for a second he let out a choked out laugh before nodding.

"I sure did, and I regret noth-"

The teacher couldn't get out another word before Karma slammed his head directly into the dirt.

"Then you can stay there like the filthy mut you are, teach!" Karma exclaimed with a smile, not even caring to hear what else the man had to say as he stood up and walked back to his silent classmates.

Even after all of that the teacher tried his very best, though wasn't very successful, to get back up to which didn't go unnoticed by Karma.

"Hmmm.." Karma said as if in thought before his eyes fell on Nagisa, "Hand me the knife Nagisa."

The blue haired boy knew better than to question Karma in this state so he handed the knife over, though as Mr. Karasuma yelled for him to stop he soon regretted it.

Karma simply ignored their cries and before they could reach him he threw the knife with such precision it landed directly in the center of Mr. Takaoka's palm causing him to cry out in pain.

"Just so you don't get any ideas of getting up champ." Karma spoke as he patted the man's cheek before standing up and brushing his hands off.

Everyone seemed to let out a sigh when realizing Karma was done. Even with the damage done, his classmates were expecting a much more violent scene to play out, so this was the best outcome that could have happened.

Not even a few moments later as Mr. Karasuma dealt with Mr. Takaoka, the principal himself came down to lead the teacher off the premises. The students were surprised to see the principal take their side for once, but he did once again remind them that he cared about academics above all else.

For now, it was a win for Class 3-E, and the class treated it as such.

Of course both Korosensei and Mr. Karasuma scolded Karma for his dangerous behavior, but given the bizarre situation he got off with a warning. Both knew how possessive he got with you and Korosensei especially knew it came out of a place of concern.

As Mr. Karasuma walked off to check on the other students, Karma moved to go meet with you and Nagisa, only for a tentacle to stop him.

"Y/n truly held her ground you know." Korosensei spoke, Karma freezing as he looked up to his teacher that was already looking at you.

"She kept up with him easily for a few minutes and was able to get him down on his hands and knees, your training with her is really paying off."

Karma glanced from Korosensei back to you as a proud smile flashed across his face. Even with your grotesque injury, you were joking around with your friends, a smile on your face even with the intense day you had.

"I'm really proud of her." Karma spoke simply, those words filling Korosensei's heart up with hope.

"With that said, though she has a lot left to learn from you, don't forget to also keep learning from her."

At this Karma looked up to Korosensei with a raised brow.

"What do you mean?"

"As much as you hate to admit it, Y/n has changed you for the better Karma. You may claim she's made you weaker, but she's truly made you stronger. You aren't as reckless and careless anymore. You truly care for your classmates and want not only the best for them, but the best for yourself."

Korosensei looked down to Karma, who for once all day was speechless.

"You two are going to build each other up into the best individuals you can be, so keep learning from each other young man."

Karma looked back at you with furrowed brows. How did this damned octopus always know exactly what Karma was thinking, but was too embarrassed to say out loud? Hearing it come from Korosensei really made the redhead feel better, but of course he would never admit that.

"Alright alright you big sap, thanks for the advice but it's nothing I didn't already know," Karma spoke as he rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, "Trust me Y/n is going to learn real well from me, she'll be my sweet little assassin by my side in no time."

Korosensei smiled at that until he noticed Karma pull out the knife from before as he flipped it around his fingers.

"And you'll be our first target teach~"

Korosensei began to go off in a frenzy, trying to grab the knife from Karma but to no avail as the boy walked off snickering.

For some reason unlike the first traumatic event you had with your classmates, this one didn't hit you as hard as usual. Sure you wished you didn’t have to endure that, the wound across your gut proving that point, but at the same time you felt so warm and safe being surrounded by your friends.

You've learned so much within your time here and it wasn't even the end of the first semester.

"Uh oh, red devil alert." Nagisa spoke nervously, your eyes falling on Karma as he sauntered over to you with an emotionless expression.

Sheepishly looking away you played with your fingers, refusing to look into those disapproving eyes as you awaited the sure lecture he would give you.

Once you heard him sit beside you, you raised a brow when no words came out of his mouth. Just before you could lift your head up, you felt gentle fingers grab your chin and tug your lips towards his own.

The kiss was unlike his usual ones, but not foreign to you. It wasn’t rough or rushed, but rather sweet and coordinated. The redhead kept your chin in his hold even after pulling away, his eyes glancing down to meet your nervous gaze.

"What you did today was crazy and not well thought out," Karma started, his brows furrowing together as he looked at you intensely before a small smile appeared on his lips, "But it was also very brave of you. I'm proud of you for sticking up for your classmates."

For a moment your brain shut off. The words "I'm proud of you" sounded foreign in general, let alone coming from your stubborn boyfriend himself.

Once you processed what was said you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks as your lips rose into the prettiest smile Karma had ever seen in his life. Quickly you gather Karma into your arms, the boy taken aback before welcoming your warm embrace into his arms.

"Thank you Karma." You whispered into his chest, appreciating his new found trust and proudness in you.

This wasn't the same Karma you met when you got here, but you're so happy with how much you've both grown.

"She did totally kick ass Karma." Nagisa said with a grin, the redhead pulling away from you just so he could look at his friend, "She straight up spun behind that guy and before he could even process it, she cracked him right in the back of his neck, it was insane!"

"Oh did she now?"

Smiling wider, you looked over to Karma with a grin as you slowly got up on your knees, grunting a bit as you were trying to be careful not to strain your abdomen.

"I did! He was all like ‘woah where did she go’,” You spoke, mocking the large man’s voice as you knit your brows in an attempt to look scary, “And I was all like, ‘surprise!’ before I chopped down on his neck.”

Karma watched your movements with a toothy grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement and pride as you explained your tactics.

“He was totally knocked out for like… a few seconds at least.” You said with a pant, smiling down to the two boys that watched with matching smiles.

Karma couldn’t help but snort at your final pose, his arms grabbing the back of your thighs and gently lifting you into his lap, so as to not agitate your wound any further..

"Of course my sweet angel kicked his ass, she learned from the best after all~" Karma said with a cocky grin, Nagisa giving an unimpressed brow raise as you stuck out your tongue to him.

You all joked around until the class seemed to finally calm down, all of you eating the sweet treats Mr. Takaoka brought before he went psycho on you all.

It wasn't until you hummed against Karma's chest that he felt a sense of deja vu.

There you were, nestled between his crossed legs, your body cuddled up against his warm embrace as you nibbled on the flakey pastry in your hand.

Looking practically upside down backwards to Karma you stared into his beautiful golden eyes before offering a sweet smile, your lips quite literally covered in white powder from your pastry.

"I love you Karma." You whispered softly, giggling when Karma placed a quick kiss on your lips, only for his tongue to swipe those plush lips of yours to get the remaining powder from them.

Sure you weren't overlooking the large ocean on a dramatically beautiful cliff, and there were a few additions to the picture that Karma could've gone without. But he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"I love you too Y/n."

next chapter

#karma akabane #karma #akabane #karma akabane x reader #karma akabane x you #karma x reader #karma x you #kunugigaoka #assasination classroom #long fic #angst #soft #i’m finally caught up yay :3

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