#I could talk about them for days just that me with a question lol

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ok, question, fem! forced marriage au - how would Rafe react/feel if she brought up ANYTHING about separating, weather that’s flat out divorce or doing it in secret - happy to the public but living in diff spaces/diff lives/maybe even having affairs(?)

Tied bonds || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: don't mind me going off slightly in the beginning when its talking about the legality side of it, i was literally studying trusts and estates law a couple days ago lol

Warnings: angst galore!

Word count: 2,801

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The heavy oak doors of the estate’s study shut behind you with a quiet but resolute thud, isolating you from the rest of the world. The room, with its high ceilings and ornate furnishings, exudes both the security and suffocation of wealth. The scent of polished mahogany and aged leather permeates the air, a sensory reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold and the responsibilities weighing on your shoulders.

The dim light from the tall windows casts long shadows across the room, making it feel as though the walls themselves are closing in, urging you to act before time runs out. You sit across from your lawyer at the broad mahogany desk. He’s a man in his 50s, with silver-threaded hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His demeanour exudes quiet authority, the kind of calm that comes from handling the complex finances of wealthy families like yours for decades.

A briefcase sits open beside him, documents meticulously laid out in front of you. These aren’t just numbers and figures on a page—they represent your children’s future, your security, and the small corner of independence you’re desperately trying to carve out for yourself. “Now, given the scale of your family’s assets,” your lawyer begins, his voice smooth and professional, “it’s prudent to separate certain accounts. Some in your name, some under irrevocable trusts for the children. This will not only shield them from potential claims but also provide financial protection in the event of....unforeseen circumstances—marital or otherwise.”

You glance down at the papers, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. This was necessary, you remind yourself. You need some semblance of independence, some safeguard for your children. With Rafe’s unpredictable behaviour and the constant pressure from both families, you can’t afford to let everything slip from your control. Your lawyer pulls out another document, sliding it across the desk.

“We’re talking about setting up separate trusts for each of your children. These funds will be distributed to them upon reaching a certain age—18 or 21, depending on your preference. In the meantime, control of the trust can be vested in you alone, ensuring that no one else has access to or influence over these assets, including your husband.”

“And what about Rafe’s side of the family?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. “Would they have any legal claim?” The lawyer shakes his head firmly. “No. Not if everything is properly structured. The trusts would be irrevocable, meaning no one—not even your husband—could alter them once established. His family would have no legal right to interfere, regardless of any financial entanglements between the two of you.”

You take a breath, the enormity of it all settling in. This is exactly what you wanted—an impenetrable safeguard. A plan that ensures your children’s future remains under your control, untouched by the unpredictable tides of Rafe’s influence or the demands of your family. “Thank you,” you respond softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the document, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. “I want everything arranged quietly,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your decision.

“No one else needs to know about this… especially my husband.” The lawyer gives a small, understanding nod. “Discretion is key, as always.” You sign where indicated, feeling a mixture of relief and unease as you watch your name inked onto the page. This is the right thing to do, you remind yourself. For your children, for their future. Yet as you rise from the desk and collect your things, a sense of foreboding lingers.

The heavy oak doors creak open as you step out, and the estate feels impossibly vast around you. Despite the careful planning, you can’t shake the feeling that keeping this from Rafe will lead to complications far greater than you anticipate. With every step you take, the sinking feeling grows. You only hope Rafe doesn’t find out before you’re ready to tell him.

~

The moment you step through the front door of your home, the tension in the air is palpable. You pause, your coat still in hand, as your eyes land on Rafe. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost relaxed posture, but the intensity in his gaze betrays any notion of calm. His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, calculating, probing.

"You have a nice little meeting today?" His voice is cold, deceptively casual. But you can hear the edge in it—the suspicion lurking beneath the surface. Your heart skips a beat, anxiety pooling in your chest. Of course, he knows. Rafe always knows. You hang your coat on the rack, avoiding his gaze, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I had a few things to take care of. Where are the children?"

You answer nonchalantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from any confrontation. "With Astoria, they wanted to play with their cousins," Rafe answers, his gaze sharp as he pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you, his presence overwhelming as always. "Answer my question," His tone hardens, suspicion fully creeping into his voice now. "I know you met with your lawyer. What are you up to?"

Your pulse quickens as you hold Rafe’s gaze, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He’s already jumping to conclusions, constructing a narrative that fits his fears. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but the reality of it still unsettles you, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. "It’s nothing that concerns you," you respond, keeping your tone as even as possible, despite the way your nerves fray under his scrutiny. "Just some family matters."

Rafe scoffs, the sound harsh and filled with disbelief. His jaw clenches as he steps even closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, blocking any hope of retreat. His presence is overbearing, the heat of his anger palpable in the air between you. "Family matters?" His voice is dripping with accusation, dark and biting. "Don’t play games with me. I heard enough to know this wasn’t just about your parents or your siblings."

His words cut deeper as his tone drops, low and dangerous. "You’re setting up trust funds. Inheritance management. Without telling me. What the hell are you planning?" His words slam into you, twisting your stomach in knots. His paranoia, the sharpness of his accusations, stings in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. Of course, you knew he’d react like this, but hearing it out loud—his anger, his distrust—it’s worse than you imagined. You steady your breath, trying to keep your composure.

"It’s for the children, Rafe," you say, your voice soft but firm, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "I want to make sure they’re taken care of, no matter what happens. That’s all this is." But even as you say it, you can see the suspicion lingering in his eyes, the doubt still gnawing at him, twisting this simple act of protection into something more sinister in his mind.

Rafe glares at you, his eyes dark and intense as they search your face for the slightest hint of deception. His presence feels overwhelming as he steps even closer, the space between you disappearing in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves down deliberately, resting on the swell of your belly where your third child grows. His touch, firm and possessive, sends a chill through you.

"You don’t trust me with that?" His voice is low, almost a growl, laced with an edge of disbelief and wounded pride. "You think I wouldn’t look out for my own kids?" His words sting, but it's the subtle accusation in his tone that cuts deeper, as if he can’t comprehend why you would feel the need to act independently. Your frustration bubbles to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm, your emotions swirling between anger and exhaustion.

"That’s not what this is about," you snap, your voice sharp as the tension between you flares. You're trying to hold it together, but the weight of his misunderstanding—of him always assuming the worst—pushes you to the brink. "I’m doing this to protect them. To protect us. You can’t control everything, Rafe." For a split second, something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—but it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual defensiveness. He steps closer, his voice lowering, cold and accusatory.

"You’re doing all of this behind my back," he growls. "And I’m supposed to believe it’s just for the kids? You don’t set up secret meetings with lawyers for something as simple as trust funds. It looks more like you’re preparing for something else. Like maybe you’re planning to escape this all." His breath is hot against your ear now, the venom in his words unmistakable. "Is that it? Are you getting ready to leave me?"

His accusation hits you hard, knocking the air from your lungs. The vulnerability behind it cuts deeper than you expected. It’s not just anger simmering in his voice—there’s fear too, buried beneath the suspicion, fear of losing control, of you slipping away. His jaw tightens, but his hand remains firmly pressed against the swell of your stomach, as if anchoring himself to you, to the life you’re carrying.

“And have our children without their father?” you ask, your voice sharp. There’s a flicker of something more beneath the surface—hurt, uncertainty. His eyes search yours, almost pleading. You blink, stunned by the weight of your own question. “Rafe…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, incredulity lacing your words as you try to make sense of what you’ve just implied. “I’m not leaving you.”

The tension in the room feels suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. You take a breath, steadying yourself, as you step closer, your gaze softening despite the frustration swirling inside you. "This isn’t about that,” you say gently, trying to reach him through the haze of his suspicions. “But I need some control over my life, Rafe. Some protection.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. “I’m not just here to be controlled or managed. I need to know that I’m not just a piece in this game.”

You can feel his breath against your skin, heavy with unspoken fears, and for a brief moment, the façade of his strength cracks. The fear of losing control, of losing you, is palpable, and it clings to the space between you like a storm cloud ready to burst. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "Control. Protection," he mutters under his breath, his movements sharp and agitated. "You think I’m the threat here? You think I wouldn’t protect you? Protect our family?"

You shake your head, stepping back slightly, trying to maintain some distance from the intensity of his emotions. "I never said that," you say, your voice softer now, trying to calm him. "But this is something I need to do. For me. For them." For a long moment, the two of you stand there, locked in a silent standoff. His breathing is heavy, and the anger in his eyes slowly shifts into something else—something more conflicted. He turns away from you, pacing a few steps before running his hands through his hair again.

"This isn’t how marriages are supposed to work," Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. The words cut deep, piercing through the fragile layer of calm you’ve been clinging to. It’s a painful reminder of what your marriage has become—what it’s always been. The expectations, the compromises, the strain. This life… it’s not what either of you envisioned. You feel the urge to retort, to let loose the frustrations that have built up over the years, but you bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for that argument.

"I know," you whisper, though you’re not sure if he hears you. The admission feels hollow in the tense silence that follows, the weight of your reality pressing down on both of you. The room feels unbearably heavy, the air thick with unsaid words. Rafe exhales, his broad shoulders sagging ever so slightly, as though some of the fire inside him has been extinguished. He turns his back to you, the physical distance a reflection of the emotional chasm that has been growing between you both.

For a brief moment, you consider stepping closer, reaching out, bridging that gap—but the weight of your decision, of everything you’ve been trying to secure for yourself and the children, holds you back. It’s a boundary you can’t afford to cross right now. "You should’ve told me," he finally says, his voice quieter, but still taut with lingering tension. There’s hurt there, beneath the anger, beneath his instinct to control everything around him.

Your throat tightens at his words, the soft accusation lingering in the space between you. "I didn’t want this to turn into a fight," you admit, your own voice subdued, drained from the confrontation. The fatigue in your bones echoes in your tone. "I just needed to make sure everything was in place. For the kids, for their future." You pause, the weight of your decisions settling on your chest. "I wasn’t trying to hide it from you."

Rafe turns back to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration, hurt, and something more vulnerable—something he rarely lets show. "It feels like you were," he mutters, the edge of accusation still present, though softer now. His blue eyes search yours, looking for answers, reassurance, something to ease the fear behind his suspicion. You hold his gaze, trying to convey the truth behind your words. "I need to feel like I have some control, Rafe," you say gently, your voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness.

"Our lives… they’re not easy. And I know you want to protect us, but I need to protect them too. In my own way." Your heart beats heavily in your chest, each word an attempt to bridge the gap between you, a gap that seems to widen with every conflict. Rafe’s gaze lingers on you, the tension between you both crackling in the air. You take a tentative step forward, closing the physical distance between you, hoping it will ease the emotional one. Just as you stop inches from him, his expression softens slightly.

He reaches for your hand, his grip firm yet tender, and before you can say anything, he brings it up to his lips. The moment feels suspended in time as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. It’s a gesture so gentle, so unlike the earlier confrontation, that it catches you off guard. The vulnerability in his eyes flickers, almost as if he’s silently asking for forgiveness or offering an unspoken truce.

You feel your heart ache, the gesture disarming you in a way his words couldn’t. It’s as though this kiss is his way of telling you that, despite his anger, despite his suspicions, there’s something deeper binding you together—a love neither of you can deny, even in moments like this. “I’m not the enemy, Y/n,” he repeats softly, his voice rough but sincere, the earlier accusation tempered by this quiet moment.

His lips linger on your skin for just a second longer before he lowers your hand, though he doesn’t let go. You swallow hard, your chest tight with emotion, your voice a whisper as you respond. "I know you're not." The air between you feels different now—quieter, softer, though still tinged with the weight of everything unresolved. For that fleeting moment, it feels as though the two of you are in sync again, even if just barely.

Rafe’s hand remains wrapped around yours, and though the tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, it’s no longer suffocating. The kiss to your knuckles feels like a promise, fragile but meaningful. As he finally lets go and turns away, you watch him disappear down the hallway, the memory of his lips on your skin lingering long after he's gone. The weight of your choices still presses down on you, but somehow, in that brief exchange, it feels a little lighter.

You know this isn’t over. Rafe’s suspicions won’t vanish overnight, and your need for autonomy remains unresolved. But for now, the confrontation is over. The weight of your decisions, the strain on your already fragile relationship, presses down on you like a heavy cloak. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. This is about protecting your children, about securing a future for them. For now, all you can do is hope that, in time, he’ll come to understand why you did this. Why you needed to.

[strawberrychampayne]

baby, i was that oblivious…

bradley bradshaw x fem! reader

warnings: none, like one swear word lol

word count: 1205

summary: oblivious!bradley x affectionate!reader!! after realizing his mistake rooster races to try and undo damage he didn't even know he was creating. will he be able too?

Rooster's heart was beating out of his chest as he rushed to his bronco. He could feel his breathing getting heavier as he felt around his jeans for his keys. Why couldn’t he find them? After feeling the same pocket five times he heard the jingle of his keychain and pulled them out. Rooster turned the key in the driver's side door and threw the door open. Slowly at least, this truck was his second love, right after her. Groaning, he threw his head back and stopped for a second to catch his breath in his car. He put the key into the ignition and his engine roared to life. Putting his truck in drive he peeled out of the parking lot and began to race to Y/N’s house. 

Rooster felt like his mind was going one hundred miles a minute. Would Magnet even forgive him? What if she just ignored his explanation? What if she never wanted to talk to him again? No. Magnet wasn’t like that. She got upset with people in the dagger squad before and still made up with them the next day. She would forgive him, right?

Bradley decided to make a quick stop at the store to grab some flowers. He would’ve preferred to have gone to a florist but it was 10 pm and nobody was open. So begrudgingly he grabbed the keys out of the ignition and the rumbling of his truck stopped. Taking a deep breath he thought back to something Y/N had said. 

“I’m just saying what kind of man doesn’t get a girl flowers, Hangman?” Y/N questioned

“The kind that doesn’t care about his lady, Mag. That’s who.” Rooster replied, from behind her. 

“Uh huh, and what kind of flowers have you gotten Roo?” she said, her eyebrow raising.

“I don’t go on many dates but the ones I have gone on I got them based on personality from said girl.” Rooster shot back.

“Personality? Well Roos, what kind of flower would you get me?” Y/N said. 

“Well Mag, you seem like a daffodil kinda girl, so daffodils.” Rooster replied, coolly. 

“Tulips. I like tulips, Rooster. So close and yet so far, huh?” Y/N said with a small smile on her face. 

“As much as I’d love to sit here and talk flowers with you two, I have a date tonight to make up for my last one and I need help.” Hangman butted in. 

Thinking back Rooster began to smile. His girl was like a flower. Beautiful and full of life but delicate. It felt as though he was ripping her petals off at this point. Rushing past many people he made it to the flowers. While scanning the selection his attention was caught by bright pink tulips. Coincidentally near the daffodils. Grabbing the tulips that were wrapped in brown paper that felt almost like a paper bag he all but ran to the checkout line. Swiping his card he grabbed his bag, thanked the cashier kindly and zipped out the door. He walked back to his truck and clambered inside. Turning the key in the engine once again he pulled out of the second parking lot of the night, except this time he was slower. This was the main road after all. 

After driving for 10 minutes he pulled up to her house. He felt his heart rate rising as he pulled to a stop in front of her driveway. He knew she had come home based on the lights that were on in the living room and bedroom. 

He remembers helping her move into this house. She wouldn’t let him carry up a bed until she almost fell down the stairs and he caught her. He carried all the furniture up the stairs after that. 

‘

Rooster pulled his visor down and checked to see how he looked. Did he always look stressed out? Fixing his messy hair and straightening out his tropical attire, he took a deep breath and stepped out of his car. 

He practiced what he was going to say all the way up to her door. He felt like he was shaking as he reached up to knock three times on her door. He waited a moment trying to hear any movement in the house. After waiting for two minutes, he counted anxiously in his head, and he knocked again. Then he heard the shuffling over feet as they ascended the stairs and stood behind the door. 

“Go away. I don’t want to see anyone, Nat.” Y/N said her voice was croaky. He could hear her pacing slightly near the door.  

“Um, it’s not Nat. It's a Rooster.” Rooster replied. 

The pacing behind the door stopped suddenly. He could hear a groan before the door opened quickly. 

“I really don’t want to do this right now, Bradley. I told you I wasn’t feeling well.” she said quietly. Going to shut the door, it was stopped by Rooster's foot. She felt a rush of emotions hit her. 

“I know but I also realized I was a complete dick tonight. I didn’t realize what you were insinuating. Please just let me talk to you.” Rooster said, his voice low. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Bradley. I have been trying everything in my power to get you to notice me. I took so much courage to be able to even ask you that. I understand that you are not required to like me back but I am allowed to be hurt I feel.” she said as tears began to stream down her face again. 

Rooster felt his heart start to break. He was at a loss for words as he watched her shoulders slump and her lip quiver. Seconds felt like hours as he tried to rack his brain for something to say. Did he apologize again or try to explain? Unfortunately for him you began to speak again.

“I don’t know if you were just oblivious to what I-”

“Yes! Y/N, baby I was that oblivious but I’m not anymore. I just want to make this all up to you.” Rooster cut her off. “And I’m so sorry for making you cry and feel like I didn’t like you back but I promise I want to make this up to you. Please.” 

“I just can’t, Bradley. You have to go. I will see you at work tomorrow.” she said, tears still falling. 

“No, sweetheart please I just want to fix this” he rushed out

“The best thing you can do is leave. I said I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Bradley.” she said before sliding his foot out of the way and shutting the door. 

“I’ll just leave these here and see you tomorrow, Mag. Um, goodnight.” Rooster said, getting no reply. 

Rooster made a vow right there that he would do whatever he could to win her back. She could say run laps and he’d ask how many? His body felt tense as he walked back to his bronco. He quietly pulled out his keys and pulled away from her house. The drive back home was quiet as he planned to do something, anything, to win his Magnet back.

taglist:

@missmarveledsblog @tianna8320

so here's part 2! I was originally going to only do 2 parts but felt like it would be so rushed so here's a little angst. please let me know your thoughts! stay hydrated, stay healthy, stay perfect! - strawberry🍓

[stellewriites]

Part Two

Summary: When John gets an unexpected invite to his ex-wife’s wedding, he scrambles to find a suitable date to take with him to ward off old ghosts from his past.

Notes: trans John, fat reader, subtle transphobia from minor characters

John was sat in his flat watching a Match of the Day rerun for a football game he’d missed while away when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

His head swivelled over to it to see if it buzzed again, determining it unimportant enough to ignore for the time being when it stayed silent. Kate always called, so it wasn’t work and anyone else that was texting him after 9pm could wait.

It buzzed a second time, then a third and a fourth in quick succession and he felt curiosity twinge at the base of his skull. He pushed himself up, ignoring when one of his knees popped, and grabbed his phone.

Your name flashed up on the screen and he opened the chat without hesitation.

>> the photos from today, don’t forget to swap them out :)

He flicked through the photos you’d sent before picking one at random to save.

John sat back on his couch and agonised over swapping his lock screen.

It was currently an old photo of Charlotte from their honeymoon, and it had stayed that way this entire time in spite of the divorce. He had kept her there even when he’d removed her photos from his desk and was unable to put any up in his new flat. His little secret. Though he knew Kate had seen it despite his best efforts to leave his civilian phone at his flat or turned off during his office hours.

But now…

He felt almost queasy as he selected the new photo. It felt like the first of many final nails in the relationship’s coffin that John would have to deal with over the next month in the lead up to Charlotte’s big day.

It felt like he was mourning a relationship already six years dead.

---

John adapted quickly to seeing your face on his phone screen at the end of the day over the next two weeks, even if he did miss seeing Charlotte’s cheery smile, and found it just as easy to accept seeing your name pop up more and more frequently when you messaged with a new question you’d thought of regarding the wedding or your fake relationship.

It was easy to talk to you, he found. Easy to let his guard down just a tinge and to try and bury the hurt he felt.

>> what’s a childhood story you’d have told me about a couple months in?

<< I fell out of a tree when I was 12, was meant to be grounded at the time so I had to walk home with broken ribs and a scraped up arm and leg. Tried to pretend nothing had happened when my mum got back from work, but it didn’t fool her.

>> i broke my arm climbing a tree too, maybe one of our dates should’ve been at a forest climbing adventure place lol

<< You wouldn’t have wanted to be wined and dined?

>> sure but it can get a little boring

>> you wouldn’t have wanted to hypothetically stare at my arse cinched in climbing gear?

>> were there food options for the wedding? like on planes? i’m not a veggie so you dodged a bullet if you chose a main with meat but i do love pasta if we’re able to swap last minute

<< Everyone loves pasta.

<< And no, think it’s an open buffet.

>> i’ll bring a doggy bag for snacks on the way home then

>> waste not, want not

<< Say that in front of my dad and he might just add you to his will.

>> this is the dress I have in mind, what do you think?

<< Good choice.

>> glowing praise, john, i’ll take that as it won’t cause a scandal among the locals

<< Don’t think you’ll be the one causing a scandal, Sunshine.

It was in a rare occasion he’d texted you first that you arranged to meet up a second time. He’d asked about the plans you’d mentioned a few days back and was currently waiting for a reply while he tried to slog through his own work.

>> was super excited for the play today but I think I might have to cancel my tickets, my friend was driving us there but her kid has gotten sick so she can’t go now :/

<< Where were you going?

>> it’s at a park on the other side of the city with the outdoor stage, i could grab a couple of buses but i don’t know if i’d make it in time

John put down the dry sandwich he was eating and looked at the meeting reports he’d been ignoring for the last ten minutes while texting you.

<< I’ll come pick you up.

>> really??

<< Sure. Send me your address and I’ll be there soon, Sunshine.

John had barely parked up outside your house before you were opening the door and giving him an excited smile and wave.

“I love stuff like this anyway, but this community group have put on some amazing portrayals of Shakespeare’s plays over the years despite their low budget and they make it so accessible with cheap tickets and the outdoor venue. It’s cut down so the teens performing have a better chance at remembering their lines, but it’s always one hell of a forty-five minute show. I think it’s Othello this time, but honestly I’d watch anything,” you rambled as you buckled your seatbelt. “It’s always good to support local art.”

“So we’re seeing Shakespeare?” John confirmed.

“It’s at the open air theatre inside the park.”

“Been a while since I went to the theatre, longer than that since I’ve been in a park.”

“What do you do in your off time?” You asked with a snort.

“Don’t get much off time,” John said easily, unbothered. It was him after all that had decided work would become his priority.

“Well then I’m glad we’re getting to see this together,” you said. “I’ve had a pretty long week too.”

“Hm?”

At his inquisitive hum you fell into complaining about your managers and the long, tiring shifts you pulled.

It didn’t take you long in the car to get to the park however and you were soon jumping out. You gaped a little when John got out and joined you at the front of the car.

“Holy hell you’re tall, shit a brick,” you said, staring. You’d noticed he was broad at the café and he seemed to fill the cab of his pick-up, but he’d been slumped and seated both times so you’d assumed he was maybe creeping just below 6’ and the rest was his attitude that made him seem all encompassing. Looking at him stood up to his full height now was something else, even as he tucked his chin down and slumped his shoulders to speak with you. “I think we’ll have to sit at the back for this or someone might complain.”

John rolled his eyes but you saw the hint of a smile play at his lips as he agreed.

You led him eagerly to the crowd you could see gathering at the entrance of the outdoor stage; the front four rows of the small open air auditorium had been unfolded for the event, suggesting the size of the crowd expected. You both elected to take a seat on the back row as others started to head to the front, but he nudged you fondly when he saw you shift excitedly waiting for it to start.

John pulled out his phone when he felt it buzz in his pocket, but put it back when he saw it was just a reminder to sort out his tux for the wedding.

“Cute pic,” you said with a sly smile when you caught his lock screen. “We should take another, might be more convincing if we have more than one photo of us doing stuff together, right?”

John leant into your side and hesitantly wrapped his arm around you, stiff where it draped over the back of your seat, for the photo.

You were no better, your smile suddenly tight at the corners as you took a quick snap. You held your breath until he moved back, his aftershave surprisingly enticing and the warmth and weight of his arm too inviting.

It wouldn’t do for you to become attracted to John, not that it was something you could control, you knew. But maybe if you just wished it hard enough it wouldn’t make the weekend away with him more difficult than it had to be; falling for a man still blatantly in love with his ex never ended well for anyone.

You smiled a little weakly at him when nudged you again, nodding at the community group making their way onto the stage in front of the clapping crowd.

Maybe attraction would be fine you decided, already knowing how impulsively forgetful and weak-willed you got when your vibrator was between your legs - you could already imagine his name slipping through loose lips, and you couldn’t blame yourself for it as you sneakily took in his side profile - just as long as there were no real feelings from your side.

---

You’d graduated from texting to calling when John mentioned one night that he found it hard to multitask while at work. You’d offered to leave him alone and talk to him once he was done later but he’d been quick to interrupt, said instead that although he couldn’t text and write at the same time, he’d be fine talking and writing.

It’s how he found himself sat at his desk with his phone propped next to him on speaker, listening to you complain about the shitty restaurants near your work.

“I need to get back into meal prepping, or at least start buying something nicer pre-made to bring for lunch. If I have to eat another Greggs meal deal I think I’ll throw up, John,” you bemoaned.

“There’s a new place just opened up ‘round the corner to you, you know?” He said, checking over his team’s reports before signing them off. At your interested hum he continued. “Greek place I think. The sergeants went the other day, said it was a good menu and they’re usually quite picky about where they spend their free time together.”

“That sounds perfect, I’ll meet you there in twenty?” You asked rhetorically, already gathering your stuff to take your lunch break. “I can order for us both in case it takes you longer so it’ll be served by time you arrive. See you in a bit, bye!” You didn’t wait for him to confirm or reply in any capacity, too excited for a delicious lunch.

John stared down at his phone where the screen fell black through lack of use at the ended call. He took a moment to recount the conversation and where he’d gotten mixed up before reluctantly dropping his pen and grabbing his coat and keys.

He stopped by Simon’s office on his way out.

“I’m heading out for a quick lunch, won’t be back in time for that meeting with Laswell after all so you’ll need to take notes.” He waited for Simon’s nod before knocking once on the doorframe in thanks and leaving.

Sure he could’ve just sent you a quick text to correct you, or rang you back to explain it was just a recommendation and he didn’t have the time to join you.

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to go eat Greek food with you until you were humming happily and rubbing your soft stomach, comfortably full on more than a lukewarm pasty and sad looking iced donut. He wanted to hear about your day at work so far and what you’d been up to with your friends on Saturday evening when your replies had slowed down.

He wanted.

It had been a long time since John had felt that way. Given most of the people he’d consider friends were people he worked with and kept their personal lives close to their chests, it wasn’t often he wanted to do much more than spend a couple hours in a pub after a rough mission with them.

You were quickly solidifying yourself a space in John’s life as a friend, whether you knew it or not. Whether you liked it or not. And as a result, he didn’t want to leave you to eat on your own knowing you to be a social butterfly, even after such a short time. John was known to be protective - some had said possessive - of those he considered his. And being his friend meant that you would given the same effort of care and consideration that he gave his team, it just needed to be applied differently.

It wouldn’t be through proud shoulder pats after a mission well-done or through unshakeable confidence and trust when he put his life on the line stood side-by-side with the 141.

No, it would be pulling up to hole in the wall restaurants last minute so that you could spend your lunch a little happier than you were when you were sat at your desk.

He found you sat at the back table, the seat facing the front windows and door left free for him to take with silent appreciation.

The food was as good as Gaz and Soap had promised it would be and the sight of you scarfing down baklava before you had to head back to work had him grinning into his glass.

“Christ, I might have to get a to-go box of this for tonight,” you groaned lowly.

“Big plans?” John asked, clearing his throat.

“Just some DIY I’ve been putting off around the house, figure if I entice myself with a treat for after it’s done I’ll be more likely to actually do it.” You go to take your last bite before pausing and pointing at John. “And before you say it, I realise it sounds like how you train a puppy.”

John snorted, but a frown pulled low on his brow. “What needs fixing?”

“My front door is scraping low when I open it, hinges are loose I think. Nothing major but I’d rather not fuck it up, you know? But if I leave it any longer then I’ll need to pay someone to deal with some real damage,” you sighed. “So I’ve borrowed my neighbour’s drill.”

“I’ll do it for ya,” John offered out of nowhere.

“What? No, you don’t have to, you’re busy,” you declined.

“It’s fine, I’ll pop by later tonight. Just let me know when you’re home and I’ll swing by and sort it.”

“I, uh, ok. Sure, thanks, John. I appreciate it,” you said with a grateful, if not bemused, smile.

---

As soon as you opened the door that evening, John noticed how the bottom caught.

“Hi, do you want a drink? A tea?” You offered as you let him in.

“I’d love one, thanks, Sunshine.” He stepped inside and placed his drill case by the doorframe.

“Oh, you brought your own drill? You didn’t have to go home for it, did you?” You fretted as you headed towards the kitchen. “Did I not mention I’d borrowed my neighbour’s?”

“You did. But this was in the back of the truck from Simon borrowing it, it’s not a big deal,” John lied. He’d stopped off to grab it after your lunch together. “Wasn’t sure what your neighbour’s drill was going to be like, but I know this’ll get the job done proper.”

You bit back an amused smile and hummed your assent down the hall as you waited for the electric kettle to boil.

“Thanks again for helping out, John. I can get by doing my own DIY usually; not to brag but I’m kind of a pro at assembling IKEA furniture. Sometimes though it helps having a second person look it over too.” You walked back to the front door as you spoke and held his tea for him as he set up the drill to match the screws in the door.

“It’s no hassle,” he said before setting to work.

A quick three minutes later your door was once again in full working order, no longer sticking when it swung open and closed.

“Good as new,” he said. You passed him his drink, still hot, and grinned, leading him to sit on the couch for a moment. “If y’need anything else fixing up or looking at, just let me know. I’d be happy to help.”

“Opened the floodgates with that offer. You’ll be regretting it soon enough,” you said with a laugh. “This place is a bit of a fixer-upper, ‘s why I could afford it in the first place.”

“You’ve done a good job with it,” he said earnestly, looking around the cosy living room. Would be better if you weren’t alone, he thought suddenly, unbidden. He took a deep sip of his drink and avoided eye contact. “I like being useful, you might as well take advantage of it since no one else is at the moment.”

You smiled softly. “That’s all the permission I need.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he slipped it out to see a text from his mum.

>> Make sure your date isn’t wearing white, luv. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but we wouldn’t want to spoil Charlotte’s day would we? xxx

<< Her dress is green, nothing to worry about mum. xx

>> Green is a bold choice, must be quite the lady to pull that off! Give her my love. xxx

John sighed as he put his phone down and caught your eye in his peripheral.

He smiled tiredly to ease your worried frown.

“Just my mum checking in, she gives you her love,” he said.

“Mm. She gives you a headache,” you pointed out. “Wedding shit still?”

“It’s her prime focus right now. It’ll be done soon.”

“You want a paracetamol? I’ll top up your tea.” You reached forward for his empty cup.

“Got something stronger?” John asked hopefully.

You winced. “I’ve got a gin ‘n’ tonic in a can that my friend left the other day? Can’t even offer you a strong coffee because it’s decaf.”

“Jesus,” he groaned through a laugh. “Another tea it is.”

---

The morning of the wedding came sooner than you’d expected. The dress that you’d carefully hung on your wardrobe door to avoid creases all those weeks ago would finally be put to use.

You got up early enough to get yourself ready, nervousness unsettling your stomach enough that you stuck to only a slice of toast for breakfast with a strong coffee.

>> Setting off now, I’ll be at yours in 20.

<< you mean you’ll be here by 0900 🫡

>> Funny.

>> See you soon.

You chuckled to yourself as you grabbed your things so you were ready to go when John arrived and double checked everything was locked up for the weekend.

The knock on your door had your heart jump and pound double-time in your chest before you shook your hands out and told yourself to fucking chill. It was just John.

“Hi, you ready to— oh, you look, uhm…” John trailed off as he took in the flowing silk dress you’d bought. He’d seen it before, of course, but now seeing you in it and the way it clung to your curves and highlighted your plush tummy and wide hips had his tongue heavy and lost in his mouth. He swallowed thickly as he looked back up to your face, trying not to linger on the plunged neckline and what it did for your tits, and felt his cheeks redden when he noticed your own flustered, wide-eyed look as you stood and watched him. “You look very nice,” he finished lamely.

“Right, good, thanks.” You tried to force a laugh but your throat felt too dry, even as you grinned at his red cheeks. “You clean up pretty well too,” you said instead and reached your hand out to brush against the neatened trim of his beard, his muttonchops less pronounced.

He stiffened at the unexpected touch, not disliking it, but a memory of Charlotte doing something similar had him flinching back. Charlotte, he remembered, would usually only rub at his beard with a frown and ask when he was going to go clean shaven again.

You didn’t know that however and you snatched your hand back to your side as you felt a chill drop from your chest down to your toes like a bucket of cold water. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” you apologised.

“No, it’s fine. Just caught me off guard,” he said, trying to ease your suddenly tense shoulders and cursing himself for getting lost in old memories.

He led you to the car and held open the door for you, smiling when you thanked him and tucked in your dress to avoid its long length getting trapped in the door.

Once he was sat in the drivers seat he hesitated for a moment before turning to face you.

“‘M glad you like it,” he said with a quick gesture to his beard. “I was thinking about shaving it off for the occasion.”

You winced reflexively at the thought, teeth gritted and bared as you tried to picture him without facial hair. He let out a deep rumble of a laugh, throaty and unfiltered, as you tried to square your face back to a neutral expression, though your eyebrows wouldn’t pull back from their frown.

“I’m sure that would’ve looked… sweet,” you hedged carefully.

John only snorted.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Ok I’m a terrible liar,” you started, glaring when John muttered an amused, you don’t say. “If you want to shave and like how it looks, then we can detour back to yours and I’m sure you’ll look just as handsome in whatever photos you’re forced to pose for. But if you’re asking for my opinion? Then I think this suits you better, it’s more distinguished. You’d have looked too much like a banker if you’d shaved and wore a suit,” you said with an exaggerated shiver.

John hummed a chuckle, his shoulders shaking with it. “I’m sure the word you’re thinking of rhymes with banker, Sunshine.”

It was your turn to snort a laugh at that.

“Your words, not mine, John.”

“Cheeky. Put your bloody seatbelt on,” he huffed, a smile pulling at his lips as he started the car. “Suddenly thinking this drive might feel ten times longer than usual for some reason.”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t dignify his jab with a response. Tried not to focus on your pulse racing in excitement.

masterlist

[vintagepresley]

Lil' Speckled Pup

Here's a little Jodie Tatum blurb I wrote tonight. It's not much but just a little something to help me get back into writing. It's honestly not that great because I was struggling and getting distracted, lol. But this is inspired by my conversation with the Jodie ai and the movie. You guys know I love Jodie, lol. He and midge are so cute. So the reader is basically midge in this blurb.

Being a woman in the army you didn’t get put on too many important jobs until your sargent wanted you up in the Smokey Mountains with Josh Morgan for some important project. You jumped at the chance to get away from your desk. You’d never been up to the smokies, but had heard how the people could be sometimes. You had been on an important mission there and helping Josh for a few days now. One person in particular took an interest in you in there, Jodie Tatum. He looked just like Josh which confused you at first. But you tried to avoid every situation you could with him because he just stared at you like a lost little puppy. You tried to not let it affect you or the job you were there to do. You arrived once again up in the mountains and when you did you were taking in the sites and the area as you always did, it was beautiful up in the smokies, and you were taking a few notes here and there. Josh had been related to the Tatums so it was easy for him to talk with them and get them to trust him. You stood back and let him handle it as you continued to take some notes. That was until an unexpected presence emerged. 

“Ah’m the champion wrassler ‘round these mountains.” the southern voice says. 

You furrowed your brow and looked over to the man, he was tall, muscular, and blonde in a red flannel and jeans, it was Jodie. This was the first time you actually spoke to one another. “I’m sorry? ” you say confused, looking at him and then at Josh. 

“Ah’m the champion wrassler!” he repeats. 

“You stare at him now still with a confused look on your face. “I see.. And who made you champion?” you ask, 

Jodie gives you a look like he’s slightly offended by your question. “Nobody made me the champ. Ah made mahself the champ. Ah trained long and hard for a decade to get where ah am. Nobody can beat me, least of all some pretty city girl like you. 

You put your hands on your hands and furrow your brow at him. “I never said I wanted to fight you and I don’t plan on it.” you say with an annoyed tone. 

Jodie smirks a bit at your response. He didn’t actually think you’d want to fight him, he just wanted a reason to talk to you. The first time he spotted you in your army uniform and was immediately taken with you. He had never seen a woman like you before and he had been with a lot of women, but none had made him feel like you did. He made himself so concerned with you that he forgot all about Josh. He steps closer to you. You step back when he does, staring at him. Jodie smiles now and he can’t stop staring at you. You furrow your brow because you don’t know why he’s just staring at you and you clear your throat. “Something wrong?” you ask. 

Jodie continues to smile, staring at you and just admiring every single little thing about you. He shakes his head. “No.. Just admirin’ yer beauty.” he says with a grin. 

You roll your eyes at his comment. “I’ve got work to do.” you mumble as you walk past him. But he follows you and quickly gets in front of you. You jump back a bit as you look at him. “You let me by! I’m on an important mission, you ol’ moonstruck ape!” you shout. 

Jodie grins at her. 

“I knew the first time I laid eyes on you that you was meant for me.” he hums. 

“Well you’re not for me buster! I’m coming through!” you shout. 

“Ain’t no need for ya tryin’ to fight me. I told ya I’m the champion wrassler of those whole mountain, ma’am.” Jodie grins. 

You look at him and put on a smile as you walk toward him. “Well… Maybe you’re right..” you say sweetly as you get closer to him and then you grab him and flip him over onto the ground and then you try to run but not before you hear him yell out in pain when he lands on his back. You gasp and turn back thinking you may have hurt him and you run over to him with tenderness in your eyes. Jodie sits up on his elbows as he looks up at you. He’s in shock that a woman of your size was able to flip him over that way. His heart was pounding and he suddenly realized just how attracted he was with you. If he wasn't already in love with you he surely was now. You both share a tender look to one another and you kneel down toward him. 

“Are you hurt?” you ask concerned. 

Jodie smiles and shakes his head. “Nah..” he mumbles, staring at you for a moment. You didn’t know what was happening or what you were feeling at that moment. You had done everything you could to avoid him anytime you saw him and his advances. But in this moment you felt you couldn’t. He leaned up a little more as he smiled. “You pretty lil’ speckled pup.” he mumbles before pulling you down to him in a sort of animalistic way, his lips pressing against yours and part of you wanted to fight it off, fight him off, but something about him stopped you and you returned his soft passionate kiss until you found yourself on top of him and Jodie pressed against the ground as the two of you shared a deep, long, passionate kiss and his big arms wrapped around your torso, holding you close.

You didn’t know what you were feeling for him, but whatever it was refused to let you stop and pull away. Something about the big luge drew you in and maybe even fell for him just as much as he had fallen for you. You were sure you’d regret the whole thing once it was all over.

**

I'm not sure who to tag so i'm just tagging two people who feel how I feel about Jodie, lol.

@deke-rivers-1957 @smokeymountainboy

[the-monkeies-girl]

👀 not to sound weird or anything but I could've sworn you had posted earlier today, selfies in specific (noticed a notification about it). Now as I do my daily checks on my favorite accounts to see how they've been or what they're doing, I see nothing on about what the notification told me about yours.

Either way, I hope you've been well and been having happy moments and experiences. Stay absolutely amazing and I hope it only gets better for you, hopefully you hit that sweet spot in pregnancy soon where it's mainly the weight of the belly and weird cravings that are bothersome. Take it easy and light! (If you want to of course!)

Random question if you want to answer, "What has been your weirdest craving you've had?" If you have had any,

Love you and stay safe!

I deleted the post because I looked ugly 🥲 lmao. Let’s have a small life update below:

Here are two pics where I don’t look like I’m dying and my hair is actually on point ( thank pregnancy for giving me luminous volume lolol. )

Thank you so much for your kind words! I miss you guys all so much, it really makes me feel sad to know I’m not back and ready to write again. 😭 I have been playing a lot of piano though ( can post vids if you guys are interested at all ), and I really missed it as it is one of my deepest passions. It’s been a step at a time, a week at a time, but I’m hopeful to get something small written and posted soon for all of you!

I feel like I have no bump yet. 😂 I’m waiting but I’ve also heard women don’t pop with their first until later so I’ve been taking progression pics weekly lol. I can’t tell what’s bloat and what’s not anymore as the first month I was just bloated beyond belief no matter what I ate.

Luckily, I am able to incorporate more carbs and sugars back into my diet as I’ve been managing my diabetes like a pro! ( not to brag ). I’ve been baking a lot of breads for my husband and I and they are delicious. 😊 think I’m gonna go to cookies next week and then cakes.

I’ve had two cravings, if that’s what you want to call them ( other than really wanting to eat a candle last week because it smelled SO GOOD ). Aversions have been bigger on my list, taste wise and oddly texture wise.

One craving has been these crispy fried green beans that Birdeye makes. I just air fry them and go to town. Have been surviving off them tbh.

Second is chips ahoy but ONLY the crunchy ones. I will cry if given chewy. Unfortunately, I still can’t gorge myself on sweets so i have to limit myself to one cookie a DAY. And it’s not made me happy. 😭😂

I also want avocado with some chocolate sauce on it but my husband keeps talking me out of trying. 🥲

Wilbur and Zoe are fantastic as usual, Wilbur is still very clingy and I suspect Zoe knows something is going on with me but that could just be my imagination, haha.

[t00thpasteface]

i very deeply respect your mashposting and even though im not as enthusiastic about hawkahy as you are i think the content you make for them us delightful and some of the best mashposting on this godforsaken website. that being said, i wanted to know ur takes on the hawkeye & trapper dynamic, and the hawkeye & bj dynamic. Not in a shippy way, just in the World of Hawkahy what role do trapper and bj play in their relationships with hawkeye :3 this because i love that one comic u did where hawkeye is spunchbop and bj is Patrick its one of my fave pieces of mash fanart lol

(⁠๑˘❥⁠⁠ ˘๑⁠) first off, THANK YOU!! i'm soooo crazy about hawkahy and i really enjoy contributing to my fellow shippers, but i'm glad my art can also still appeal to people who are less interested the ship itself.

second, VERY fun question!! i wish i had definitive answers for yall, but you know me... i love to go "well idk it could go either way" ^_^;; really, it depends on what kind of tone and theme i'm looking for. i don't really write heavier stuff (because i have so much fun writing funny fic) so that kind of narrows my options, but there's a lot of potential i'd love to explore— or see someone else explore, if they're so inclined!

TRAP:

generally the trapper reading i typically default to is that he and hawkeye have a pretty casual FWB thing going on. trapper considers hawkeye a very close friend and hooks up with him at an intersection of bicuriosity and deep platonic affection, but hawkeye catches baddddd feelings and ends up genuinely heartbroken to find out their thing was lopsided. in this case, hawkahy would happen only after trapper leaves— mulcahy has a tough time trying to get noticed before that point :( but at the same time, i don't think mulcahy would pounce at the first opportunity, because i don't think an immediate rebound would be good for hawkeye nor mulcahy... but it could happen for dramaaaaa...

another version of the hawkeye-trapper rapport that i love playing with in my fics is trapper being generally very supportive but nonetheless slightly grossed out. i think there's a lotttt of comedy potential with hawkeye thinking it's okay to fuck a priest but NOT a married woman, and meanwhile trapper is pro-infidelity but anti-priestfucking (for whatever reason), and they squabble and tease each other about it the whole time.

it's also funny to think about is trapper trying to figure out whether mulcahy now gets the "one of the bros" back-slapping beer-chugging dude treatment, or if instead he's now slotted into the "go easy on 'em trap" category that protects hawkeye's ladyfriends from hearing trapper's bawdiest jokes and comments when hawkeye brings them along as a plus-one to the swamp.

trapper seems like he's pretty likely to sniff out that hawkeye and mulcahy are seeing each other even if they try their damnedest to keep it secret. i like to think hawkeye trusts trapper enough that he would go ahead and divulge it it up front pretty soon after it's official. trapper could probably even pick up hawkeye's crush beforehand... maybe even before hawkeye knows about it!

i don't see trapper as being too jealous of hawkeye spending a lot of time with mulcahy, even if it means hawkeye is now exclusive and not sleeping with trapper anymore. if anything i think he'd be pretty stoked that he's got one less guy to compete with for the nurses' attention. pretty sweet deal as far as he's concerned.

i do think there'd be some tricky navigating between how hawkeye acts with trapper and the STARK difference with how he acts around mulcahy, which you can see clear as day in the s1 finale, where hawkeye gets soooo soft and careful while talking to mulcahy. i don't think either one is disingenuous; i think hawkeye contains multitudes. hawkeye's not the type to fake sincerity. and to that end, i really don't think hawkahy should hinge on hawkeye totally giving up all the cruder parts of his personality (especially since mulcahy is really no saint either), so it could be pretty interesting to see that manifest in whether/how he's still maintaining a close friendship with trapper now that he's been seeing mulcahy regularly and trying to make a good impression.

BEEJ:

the direction bj goes in depends on whether hawkahy are already an item before he gets there. he does form that almost instantaneous trauma-bond with hawkeye on his first day, but i think if hawkeye admitted "yeah by the way the chaplain is my boyfriend" as soon it seemed safe, bj would be able to take it in stride as another weird little quirk of the mash he has to get used to. he's too hung up on dealing with all the gore to worry about who's banging who.

by contrast, i think he could potentially get pretty upset/jealous if hawkeye and mulcahy paired up a little while later. i can see him feeling really betrayed, like, "what do you normally do when i'm gone?" "wait for you to get back!!"

if bj still doesn't feel like he's really enmeshed himself into the unit— which i think on some level, he never wants to, because he's banking on dropping everything like a hot potato the second he can— then i can totally picture him just feeling completely lost and isolated when hawkeye is suddenly forgoing their boys-nite boozathons in favor of getting some priest pipe. like, at least trapper could always go find his own cuddle buddy to pass the time and had nurses lining up to volunteer; bj has basically nobody and doesn't seem inclined nor equipped to fix that. hawkeye is his liason to the rest of the camp, and bj isn't so great with people without having hawkeye there to help as both teleprompter and safety net.

basically i think bj wants to keep hawkeye within a very specific arm's-length radius— not too close, but not too far either, and hawkeye having so much private time with someone else could really get under his skin.

you could also have bj think the priestfucking is gross/bad on sheer principle like trapper did, even without the jealousy angle, and it'd probably hold a little more water coming from bj than trapper. however, it'd be funny if he's insisting it's definitely not a jealousy thing and he's being fully objective about it, but you can totally tell he's just jealous. x)

i admit i kinda love seeing bj get tormented, because he's got such obvious buttons to press and yet sternly insists that they don't even exist, similar to houlihan and frank. like, you can't just set that up and not expect me to rub my hands together and SLAM those buttons as hard as i can. ergo, bj getting jealous about hawkahy is supremely funny to me. i'm not too proud to admit that!

[piratefalls]

1. Happy nov 5th, i still cannot believe it's real

2. TELL US ABOUT YOUR BFF!

HAPPY NOVEMBER 5 AKA WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

oh friend, this is an interesting question, because i guess the answer relies on what you mean by bff. like, my longest friendship? that's sarah, we've been friends for the last 25 years (mind you, I'm 32, so basically my whole life). in terms of closeness? absolutely sarah, because we're absolutely the embodiment of the "talking about a serious thing in text and then talking about something completely unrelated on social media" joke. but that term also basically covers everyone else i consider a friend friend.

here's the thing: i grew up in a village of 2,000 people. (yes, a village.) my closest friends today are people i grew up with. some of those people are also my friend's husbands. those people are my tribe, my ride or die, the ones who've seen the ugliest sides of me and loved me through so much. the people who instituted the table of truth rule so that we could speak freely because that shit was on lock. each of them has a special place in my heart. this post would never end if i went on a tangent about each of them individually. as a collective, they are my BFFs.

ask me a question for sleepover saturday!

[ccherrybloom]

Ashtrays & Antihistamines Pt. 1

oc, m, hayfever, wc: 2.8k

Part 2

CW: foul language and allusions to gay sex lol

~~

a.n. + summary: i don't think i've ever posted a snzfic on this blog, but there's a first for everything, right? featuring my lovely little ocs and their stupid dumb little band. i don't normally write them in snzcerions, but...every now and again i can’t help myself and one slips through the cracks lol. This particular one centers around my absolute shithead of an Irishman, Peter, as he deals with a hayfever flare up for the first time in like…twenty years, lol. of course, ever the lucky one, this begins to happen during the band’s first mini-tour. Cue shenanigans. I hope you all enjoy!

~~

“hH’RRSHhiue!” Peter fell into himself with a harsh sneeze, the band’s rundown van jerking sporadically with its driver’s sudden movement. “Goddamnit!”

“Bless.” Geoff offered lazily from the passenger seat as he turned a page of his book, unbothered by the vehicle’s erratic veer. “That’s like the tenth one since we’ve left Dublin.” The bassist pointed out, shooting the guitarist a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “You alright?”

“Fuckin’ hayfever,” Peter answered as he scrubbed his palm aggressively against the underside of his nose, careful not to put too much pressure against his nose rings. He followed it up with a drawn-out sniffle. “I’m fine. Christ.”

“I don’t remember ya being like this before,” Maurice quipped from the back of the van, leaning forward to join in on the conversation. “I mean hell, ya lived in Dublin fer how many years…?”

“Longer than you, Frenchie.” Peter retorted as he thrust a tattooed hand backwards to try and shove the singer away. Maurice easily dodged with a laugh, swatting at Peter’s hand as Geoff instinctively reached out to steady the van as it began to swerve again. “You can piss right off.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, yer born and bred Irish — who knew all it took was a few months in London for yer own country to turn on ya.”

“I said piss off.”

“Who gives a shit!” Chris suddenly interjected as he pulled his headphones from his ears, a curly lock of the drummer’s dark hair falling between his eyes. “Just keep your bloody eyes on the road! I dunno ‘bout you lot, but I’d like to get there in one piece.”

Maurice backed off with a snicker, hands up in surrender as Peter quickly flipped Chris off in the rear view mirror before returning his full attention to the road.

After Peter and Maurice had both left Dublin for London a few months shy of one another, the four men began to pour almost all of their free time into their passion project, The Undergrounds. Much to their genuine surprise, people seemed to really enjoy their band’s sound and performances, so much so in fact that they’d hit a point where pubs across the UK were beginning to reach out to them, asking the group to come play for their open mic nights, with some even offering payment. With the requests getting further and further away from their homebase in London, the band finally decided to bite the bullet and buy themselves some transportation, namely their shithole of a van lovingly referred to as Van Halen. Despite its old clunkiness, it really did do the trick, and allowed the men to head across the border on their first ever ‘Let’s-Not-Call-It-A-Tour’ Tour. Realistically, with two of the four members being from (or as close to ‘from’ as one could be, in Maurice’s case) Ireland, the band had picked up quite a bit of traction across the small country with the men getting many open mic night requests which they normally had to turn down, much to Peter’s dismay.

At least until now, that is.

Peter had noticed something was off after their show in Dublin the night prior. At first he just assumed he strained his voice singing backup vocals — a product of over-excitement from getting to play in his old stomping grounds. But by morning the scratchiness in his throat lingered and was now accompanied by faint itchiness in his nose that forewarned him of worse yet to come. 

By the time the men packed up their gear and filed into the van late that afternoon, the unwelcoming prickle that had been festering in his nose demanded more attention, and his eyes began to itch in a maddening way that he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid back in Belfast. Initially he tried to ignore it, chalking it up as a residual reaction to dust from the old pub, or that it had been awhile since Van Halen had gotten a good clean. But as time slowly passed on their nearly three hour drive to Cork, and the itchiness in his sinuses progressed into full-blown sneezing, the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. He was immediately thrust back to Belfast, memories of summers spent constantly sneezing thanks to the fields near his old home, his eyes watering, his nose running, each summer spent absolutely miserable. He hadn’t had a hayfever flare-up in years, thinking it was something he had thankfully outgrown once his mum had moved them to Dublin, but yet here it was, back to rear its ugly head once more all these years later. The familiar lush scents of the countryside that used to conjure such vivid memories of home were now turning every intake of breath the guitarist took into a gamble. 

The itchiness in Peter’s nose only seemed to increase in urgency as Van Halen bumped its way through the Irish countryside. The landscape blurred past the windows, a mix of greens and greys under a sky that threatened rain.

“Nearly there.” Geoff hummed, taking a peek at the map app on his phone. “About another twenty or so.”

“Thank fuck.” Peter grumbled with a sniffle, his eyes squinting past the relentless itchiness. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and pulled his glasses up slightly before slamming his wrist into one eye and scrubbing hard.

“I think we could all do with a pint,” Maurice chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Especially you, Peter.” He added, gently poking the man’s shoulder.

Peter managed a weak chuckle in response, his wrist still pressed hard into the corner of his eye. 

“Just keep it steady Pete, yeah?” Chris leaned himself forward and rested his elbows onto his knees, eyes scanning the road ahead. “Not much longer and you can go ahead and drown yourself in whatever local brew you fancy.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but the van hit a particularly bumpy patch of road, jolting everyone inside. Instead he just swore under his breath, turning his full focus back towards the road as Cork began to appear on the horizon.

“There she is.” Geoff whistled, pointing ahead. “Welcome to Cork, lads.”

Peter managed to manoeuvre Van Halen expertly through the narrow streets of Cork despite battling his allergic reaction, the van’s tires crunching over cobblestone as he pulled them into the parking lot of their dingy motel.

“Home sweet home.” Maurice hummed as he clapped a hand onto Peter’s shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the other two members filed out. “At least fer the next few days.”

Peter leaned back into the driver’s seat and let his eyes drift closed as he exhaled deeply, shutting off the engine. He only cracked an eye back open when he felt Maurice give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You alright?” The singer asked, his voice low and expression soft.

“I’m grand, Mur.” Peter grumbled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. The real truth of the matter was that he was miserable, itchy, and absolutely dying for a cigarette — not that he cared to say any of that out loud. 

The guitarist pulled off his glasses to give his watery eyes another scrub before continuing. “Just got a fierce bad dose of this nonsense…This shite best be all said and done before our show or I’ll–hh! hH’ITSHHhiue!”

“See, but that’s what we don’t wantcha doin’, actually.” The blonde teased as he patted the guitarist’s shoulder before the other quickly slapped it away as if he were swatting a mosquito.

“You fuck right off, Murry.” Peter sniffled hard, dragging the backside of his hand beneath his nose. “Just get yer shit and get goin’.”

Maurice did as he was told and hopped out of the van with Peter not far behind as the pair hurriedly began to help the others unload. With the sky steadily darkening the four moved quickly, eager to avoid the potential rain. Luckily the unloading and reloading of Van Halen had become more and more familiar with each passing gig, and it didn’t take them long to have all the necessities laid out beside the van, ready to go.

The motel itself was a shabby vintage looking two-story building, its neon sign flickering with an almost uncertain intermittence as if it were clinging onto its last shred of life.

Maurice and Geoff took the lead, carrying the group’s heavier equipment while Chris and Peter followed suit with their four bags. They bustled their way to the reception desk where they were met with a disinterested looking clerk who simply handed them a single worn key with a faded plastic tag attached.

“Yer in room 107.” He mumbled, barely looking up from his magazine.

“Cheers, mate.” Geoff scoffed as he shot the others an exasperated look and snatched the key. He led the group down the dimly lit hallway, their feet dragging against a carpet that had clearly seen better days. When they reached their room Geoff wasted no time unlocking the door and shoving it open, revealing a tightly packed space with two queen beds, a small television, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been updated in at least two decades.

“Alright, how we doin’ this?” Chris asked as he tossed the bags he had onto the closest bed.

“By drawing straws, of course.” Geoff instructed as he pulled a set of straws he had prepared earlier out of his pocket. “Shortest straw shares with the other shortest straw.”

The others agreed on this being fair enough and drew their straws, quickly comparing them.

“Well, it’s you and me, innit?” Chris said as he held up his short straw next to Peter’s. He gave the other a playful nudge and smirked. “Just don’t go tryin’ nuffin, yeah?”

Peter sniffled thickly and shoved Chris away before pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the rings, and itched it aggressively. “I got enough of ya the first time.” He moved from rubbing his nose to scrubbing his eyes, trying to ignore the way Maurice bristled at the mention of their one-off fling. “Won’t be doin’ that again.” Chris flipped him off and called him a wanker, but he went ahead and ignored that too.

“Hey, Pete,” Geoff called out as he tossed his bag onto the other bed. “Why don’t you take a shower? Might help clear up a bit of that hayfever.”

Peter, who’s eyes had started to glaze over, did his best to nod in the ginger’s general direction. “That’s the best ideee-hha I’ve heard all d—hh! hhUH’DITSHhhiuew! ‘IGKSHhhiueww!” He doubled over hard into cupped hands, his entire body tensing violently with each sneeze before he groaned thickly against his palms. “—all damn day.” He finished on an exhale, voice cracking. “-snf- Jaysus…”

“Bless you.” Geoff offered, a twinge of sympathy in his voice. “You know you really ought to—”

“G’way outta that.” Peter interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand as he trudged his way to the bathroom, eyes half-lidded. “Last thing I need is yer bloody mother hennin’, Geoffrey.” He added before pulling the door closed behind him. 

Flicking the light switch, Peter had to wait a full second before the dull fluorescents sputtered to life, illuminating the unsightly bathroom as he dragged his feet towards the shower. The tiles were cracked and the floor was splotchy, but he didn’t care, he just wanted some relief. 

The pipes whined in protest as he turned on the taps before water began to sputter out from the shower head. The water pressure seemed abysmal at best, and Peter cursed to himself as he leaned his weight against the sink, waiting for the water to warm. As steam steadily started filling the small space, he could feel the tightness in his sinuses ease up slightly, making his nose run. The liquid caught on his septum ring and trailed rapidly down towards his upper lip. Blowing out an annoyed breath, the guitarist took a second to wipe his nose haphazardly against his sleeve before stripping and stepping into the tub, letting the warm water cascade over him with an appreciative sigh.

Outside of the bathroom Geoff and Maurice were seated on each side of their shared bed as they sorted through their bags.

“Think he’ll live?” Maurice asked as he pulled out his plastic toiletry bag, setting it to the side.

Geoff gave a small shrug in return, glancing towards the bathroom door. “I reckon it could go either way with that dumb git.”

Maurice snorted at this, but his knit brow betrayed his feigned air of nonchalance. “Just hope the shower helps, I s’ppose. Don’t think we can really afford to have him down fer the count.”

Chris, already sprawled out on the other bed, headphones back on, piped up. “Eh, he’ll be alright. Just needs to wash off whatever’s settin’ ‘im off. It’s no big, yeah? You French people are wound too tight.”

Maurice rolled his eyes at this but chose to ignore the drummer’s comment. “I just don’t want anythin’ to screw this up for us.” He murmured as his eyes fell onto the bathroom door. “That’s all.”

“hh-Hh! hH’dDZTShiueww!” Peter sneezed loudly and openly, his head snapping downwards as the shower’s stream continued to steadily pelt against his tattooed back. He blinked hard, eyes bleary as the need to sneeze lingered in his nose like an unwelcome houseguest. Instinctively he brought up a hand to hover over the lower half of his face as his breathing began to come out in shuddering, shallow gasps. “hah…Ha’TdSHhhiuew!” This one bent him double and he swore immediately afterwards, more than a little frustrated as he blew his nose harshly into his hand. Had his hayfever always been this maddening? He couldn’t remember. It had been a long time since he’d had a flare-up, probably pushing two decades at least. The thought that it had come back now during the band’s first tour just pissed him off further.

Sighing, Peter turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching out for one of the worn threadbare towels from the hotel rack. He dried himself off quickly before wrapping the towel dangerously loose around his waist – the only member who had yet to see his dick was Geoffrey, and the guitarist couldn’t give less of a shit if today was the day that changed.

Wiping a hand across the fogged bathroom mirror, Peter allowed himself a moment to peer at his reflection as he dragged a hand through his damp, dark hair and threw on his glasses. His green eyes were still red-rimmed and watery, his nose and cheeks were decorated with a soft dusting of pink…he looked pathetic, but at least the shower was helping him breathe a little easier.

Residual steam billowed out into the cooler room as Peter made his way out of the bathroom, catching the eye of Maurice.

“Peter,” The singer looked up from his bag and offered the dark-haired man a small smile, taking in the other’s lean frame. “How ye fairin’?” 

“Bit better, I’d say.” Peter hummed, though a small sniffle still escaped him as he wandered over to his bag, making Maurice frown.

“Reckon you’re up for a drink?” Geoff asked, not looking up from his phone. “We were thinking of checking out this pub nearby. Interested?”

Peter mulled it over for a moment, turning his back on the others before dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxer-briefs. “Yeah, g’wan then.” He finally affirmed, clearing his throat against a fist as he fished an old t-shirt from his bag. “Pint’ll do me some good.”

“Are ya sure?” The singer asked, chewing on his lip nervously as Peter wiggled into a pair of jeans. “If yer not feelin’ up for it–”

“Sod off, Maurice, will you?” Chris suddenly retaliated as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Actin’ like you’re his bloody mum or somefin’ just cos you’re shaggin’. Prat.”

Peter couldn’t help but snort as Maurice glared daggers at Chris, his face turning a delightful shade of crimson. The fact that he and Maurice slept together on occasion wasn’t exactly a secret – their initial one-night stand was how the two had met in the first place, after all – but it wasn’t something that was often discussed amongst the group. Peter personally didn’t care, but Maurice clearly did.

“You don’t see me actin’ like a bloody bellend even though I’ve also sucked his–”

“Ça commence à bien faire!” Maurice shot up suddenly from the bed, cutting Chris off as his native tongue spilled rapidly from his mouth. “Fer the love of God, no more, thank you!” 

The singer hurriedly made a beeline for the hotel room door, grabbing his coat as he rushed past the others, his face absolutely aghast as the others snickered. “Just…hurry up, then! Christ, I need a feckin’ drink…”

“I think we all do.” Geoff huffed as Maurice stepped into the hall. “C’mon, lads. Let’s go.”

[downsteepy]

i am very grateful that im not someone that has to deal with daily seizures but it is evil when it takes like a week and a half's worth of business days to recover from a seizure

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

A big thanks to @witchybitchybisexual who tagged me in this amazing 30-questions Golden Girls-themed game; I had a *great* time answering these! I look forward to reading everyone's answers (including yours, @witchybitchybisexual!).

I'm hiding all questions after #1 under a cut, because this got long haha!

1. How did you find out about the show?

Via another show I love -- Good Omens! Or, actually, via the amazing book that inspired it. One of the main characters, the demon Crowley, is a big fan of The Golden Girls; there's a great scene in which the forces of hell hijack one of Rose's monologues to send him a message while he's watching the show! I was in need of something new to watch at the time, and I figured if Crowley liked it so much, it was at least worth checking out. :)

2. One storyline you’d eliminate?

Hmm... probably Miles' witness protection program storyline? I don't mind it that much (it gave us some fun jokes and some memorable scenes!), but I feel like that was a turning point in Miles' character, and I just don't like the person he became after that turning point.

There was no question 3 here, so I made up my own! Hope that's not an issue :)

3. Best guest star/character?

Lynnie Greene takes the cake as the best guest star, for sure. I adore her and she played a phenomenal young!Dorothy. The second place goes to Dick Van Dyke, just because I love him in general!

As for the best guest character, I think the honour goes to Angela, Sophia's sister! She's absolutely hilarious and her comedic chemistry with Sophia is stellar. I also have to mention John Neretti from S6E23 What A Difference A Date Makes for being the best man in the series imho.

4. Character you most relate to?

Dorothy! My personality nowadays is a bit of a mix between Dorothy and Rose, I feel, but the Dorothy side is prevalent (and it was even more prevalent a few years back). I love reading and literature (and I enjoy learning about history, although I don't have her passion for it); I share her love for teaching (although I'm not a teacher); I was a great student in school, but not a popular kid at all; I'm level-headed and responsible, but I can be impulsive under the right circumstances; I'm very protective of the people I love; I'm Italian and was brought up a Catholic; I'm often the tallest girl in the room (I'm just a bit shorter than Bea Arthur was!) and I'm not attractive (not that Dorothy isn't -- but she is perceived as unattractive in the show), so I also understand her self-esteem issues fairly well.

I'm not as quick-witted as she is, unfortunately, and nowadays my outlook on life is more positive and easy-going than hers, but she's still the one I relate to the most.

5. Favourite character?

Blanche, although the other Girls are very, very close. I adore them all and I especially love to see them interact, but if I have to pick one, then it's Blanche. She's the one who surprised me the most! At the start of the show I kind of wrote her off as 'the man-crazy one', and that's as far removed from me as possible, so I didn't really focus much on her at the beginning. Then came S1E4 The Transplant, and then came her family issues, and then came all her memories of George, and before I knew it I was head-over-heels in love with her. Rue was masterful in how subtly she played her; she showed Blanche's depth as a character little by little, letting the audience peek behind the mask only for moments at a time, so when I realized I hadn't given her the attention she deserved, I was already in too deep.

6. Favourite story of a cast member?

Oh, so many good ones to choose from! The first one that comes to mind is Bea's anecdote about the time she was Tallulah Bankhead's understudy. The awe with which she describes her coming down the stairs is palpable -- but I mostly admire how she took Bankhead's mean comment and turned it into motivation. And Bea did get her 'coming down the stairs to thunderous applause' moment (more than once!), so her vow came true!

A fun one that involves all four main actresses is this blooper related to Blanche's Christmas gift to the girls, the 'The Men Of Blanche's Boudoir' calendar. Watching all of them lose their marbles over this prank is priceless -- it always puts a big smile on my face!

(Is this what you meant by this question? I wasn't sure!)

7. Which was the episode that got you hooked?

The pilot, lmao. It might be a cheesy answer, but it's true! I was immediately hooked from S1E1 scene one. Dorothy's incredible entrance got me.

8. You could wear one girl’s wardrobe for the rest of your life, who would you pick?

It's a toss-up between Blanche's and Dorothy's.

9. How many kids do you think they all actually had?

... this ask made me realize there are doubts about this, lmao. I've never done the math! Had to go check on wikipedia 😂

As far as I can tell, it's fairly set in stone that Rose had five children, of which we meet two (Kirsten, with two different faces 😂, and Brigit, who I assume is her youngest one).

It also seems reasonably certain that Dorothy had two kids -- Kate and Michael. I will say I've always thought Kate was much younger than she should have been in her appearances on the show, considering Dorothy was pregnant with her when she married, but maybe she just looked much younger than she actually was, I don't know.

Blanche is more complicated. We see both of her daughters, Janet and Rebecca, and in S3E3 Bringing Up Baby she mentions three sons, Matthew (also known as 'Skippy'), Doug, and Biff. In that same episode, though, she also says she's had four kids! I get where the disconnect comes from, haha. To be precise, her quote is:

"I have had four kids, I have never had a Mercedes."

This is just off the top of my head, but I wonder if she means 'I have had' in the sense of 'I have given birth to' here? This would imply one of her children is actually adopted (which is very interesting to think about!!). Since she directly mentions her three sons after this quote, I suppose our suspects are Janet and Becky. I'll have to give this some more thought, though -- for now my answer is that Blanche has five kids, and that 'four' is a continuity error on the writers' part.

10. Do you think the actresses would’ve gotten along with their characters if they met in real life? Why/Why not?

Interesting question! I think so, yes.

Dorothy and Bea seem fairly similar already -- as far as I know Bea was a big sweetheart, a private, gentle person, and Dorothy's a big sweetheart too. Plus I feel like Dorothy would have been respectful of Bea's introverted nature, and Bea would have been understanding and accepting of Dorothy's personal history (not to mention, she wouldn't have mocked her for not dating/for her appearance).

In all the interviews I've seen, Estelle seems very respectful and very fond of old people in general -- I think she'd find Sophia a riot! I seem to remember a clip in which she actually says she likes Sophia, so I feel pretty secure in stating they'd get along.

There's this famous quote by Rue in which she essentially says that she's similar to Blanche in everything but the fact that she's not from Atlanta 😂 so I feel justified in assuming they would have had fun with each other! Rue's stated that she felt an immediate connection to Blanche as a character, and that playing Blanche helped her gain more self-esteem and confidence, so I think meeting her in person would have had a similar effect! And Rue (being a very open, honest, compassionate person) might have helped Blanche drop her mask a little bit.

The only one I have an inkling of doubt about is Betty -- mostly because she'd run circles around Rose! But ultimately I think any 'mocking' would be gentle and affectionate, much like the Girls' jokes in the show. I think they would have liked each other -- and they could have bonded on their common love for animals alone!

11. What are your other comfort shows?

Apart from the aforementioned Good Omens, I'm also very fond of Only Murders In The Building, a really fun show about solving murders and found family that I wholeheartedly recommend. Derry Girls is another recent favourite. Oh, if you like cartoons too, I recommend Steven Universe, Hilda, and Avatar: The Last Airbender.

12. Headcanons? (Feel free to list as many as you’d like)

Oh, my god. I have so many and I'm for sure going to forget some. Let's see...

I've already said some time ago that in my mind Dorothy drives stick shift. Reasoning for this is that Italians (including yours truly, haha!) drive stick shift, and she's of Italian descent, so... she knows how to drive an automatic car, she just learned how to drive on a stick shift one (and in the streets of Brooklyn, no less!). Still on Dorothy: I think she has a very neat handwriting (she feels like the type of person who consciously decided to improve her handwriting at some point in her life), but she's prone to leaving ink stains on the page (and on her hands!!), especially when she's writing in a hurry.

Rose is really strong! Physically strong, I mean. I know she was a housewife for most of her life, but she was a farm girl first! Farming takes a lot of physical resilience, and that's the kind of strength that stays with you, I think. She's the one who lifts up the furniture when they clean (S2E12 The Sisters), and I don't think they'd let her do that if she couldn't handle it. Plus, remember that time she broke a whole ceramic cup with one bare hand (in S7E19 A Midwinter Night's Dream)? Yeah. I also subscribe to some mutuals' hc that she's autistic (although they'll be able to comment on it much better than I can, if they want to!).

Regarding Blanche, I really enjoy @\eeblouissant's hc that she has a permanent tan! She's from the South, she's lived near the coast for ages, *and* she's expressed an appreciation for sunbathing in the show, so it makes perfect sense to me. Also: she's a cover hog! In the show Rose is the one who admits to stealing the covers (in S2E5 Isn't It Romantic?, iirc), but I like to think Blanche is the worst offender. It's a good way to complete the Girls' trifecta of sleeping annoyances (Dorothy snores, Rose sleeptalks, Blanche steals the covers!), and I think it's thematically appropriate for her -- considering her Southern origin, I think she's more sensitive to the cold than Dorothy and Rose are, and she's always looking for affection, so...

Oh, regarding their sexuality: I don't have a marked preference for any of them, but I tend to think of Blanche as a bisexual with a lot of internalized homophobia. Rose is also bi, and somewhere on the asexual spectrum (and I have textual evidence for this!). @\hecatesbroom has completely convinced me to read Dorothy as a repressed lesbian, but I'm fine with people considering her bisexual too. I prefer queer interpretations of all of them, but I'm honestly fine with any take, as long as the strong (platonic or romantic) bond between them is preserved.

Most of my headcanons on Sophia are just traits borrowed from my grandmothers -- for example, I like to think that she started getting into gardening once she moved in with the Girls, and she's really gifted at it (like my grandma!).

13. What would you change (if anything) about the show/ characters if it was set in the modern day?

This is a really hard question to answer properly, because while the show is still very relevant to the present day, some aspects are so grounded in their time that a lot of things don't make as much sense when transposed into the future. For example -- would Dorothy end up marrying Stanley and staying married to him for 38 years if he'd gotten her pregnant in the 90s? Single mothers weren't exactly celebrated back then either (Madonna's Papa Don't Preach is from 1986), but they still had it much better than they did back in the 40s-50s -- and divorce has become much more accessible (and socially acceptable) in the past few decades. Would she have left him earlier? Would she have married him at all?

And what about Sophia? Being an Italian immigrant in the 50s seems different from being an Italian immigrant in the 20s -- there was a whole World War between the two, for starters. Would she still emigrate to the US? Would she even emigrate at all? How would she have survived the fascist regime in Italy?

Blanche and Rose are perhaps less grounded in their time. St Olaf is so absurd it might as well be the exact same in the present day (and dying in childbirth is unfortunately still too common, so it's not strange to think that Rose would be an orphan in any case), and considering how some people still think and behave nowadays, Blanche's biography and opinions seem plausible even when transposed 30-40 years into the future (at least to me). But still -- many of the issues they deal with were grounded in their time. Take Rose's AIDS scare: would she react in the same way in the present day, knowing that care for HIV patients has progressed so much?

To be fair, apart from all these questions, all of the Girls are still plausible (and relatable) characters from a modern POV; but society has changed a lot in the past 30-40 years, and I think a groundbreaking, socially advanced show like Golden Girls would necessarily have to change as a consequence. It's just in the spirit of the show! The core idea of four women sharing a life is still a perfect premise, but the problems the Girls face, their careers, their economic stability, their ideas on love and relationships -- there's a lot that could be different when transposed to the present day! I feel like this question requires much more space, time, and analysis to be answered properly.

One thing I like to think is that at least some of the Girls might have been explicitly queer if the show was set in the present day! Which opens up a lot of avenues for plot-lines and relationships :)

14. Which other Fictional Characters would you like each one of the golden girls to meet?

I have a storyboard in my notes for a little comic in which the Girls travel to England and meet Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens, so them, definitely 😂

Also, the Derry Girls! Check out this great crossover fic on Ao3 -- the chaotic energy is just off the charts, I love it.

15. Who were your favourite duo?

Oh, I can't choose. Any duo within the Girls. Their 1:1 interactions are all amazing, there's no way I can pick just one. I love the bond between Dorothy and Sophia, I love Dorothy and Blanche's chemistry, I love how fun and silly Blanche and Rose get to be together, I love the ironclad trust between Dorothy and Rose, I love Blanche and Sophia's love-(fake) hate friendship, I love the way Sophia hides her immense affection for Rose under a veil of humour and the way Rose sees right through it. I could write an essay on each pair of them.

15. Who should’ve got more 1:1 screen time with each other?

I'm pretty happy with the amount of 1:1 time each pair of Girls got with each other, actually! One of the strengths of the show imho is how well-balanced the interactions between the main cast are. If I really have to nitpick, I think I might have liked a couple of episodes specifically on Dorothy and Rose in the last couple of seasons; it feels like they interacted 1:1 less after S5, but that might just be me.

I also think the Girls' interactions with secondary characters and guests were well-balanced, in general; I can't think of any specific example where I wished for one of the Girls to have more interactions with a certain character.

... okay, there is one instance, but it's not really a matter of screen time, more of what happened during said screen time. I really, really wanted to see Blanche (with Rose as support) tear into Stan. I think we deserved a scene where she tells him off for the way he treats Dorothy -- she's already pretty caustic in the show when it comes to him (except in S6, for some reason...), and a proper confrontation would have been glorious.

16. Calmest season?

Is there one? 😂 the first season, I guess? It feels a bit more 'domestic' and contained in scope, likely because it was the first -- but it's still a wild ride!!

17. Most chaotic season?

Season 3, for sure. It's a bit all over the place, and it contains some of the wildest premises in the whole series -- I mean, Bringing Up Baby? Letter to Gorbachev? Mister Terrific? I could go on -- there's lots of chaotic episodes in there! (Just to be clear: I love the chaos! S3 is not my favourite season, but it's still great -- and it's got some amazing episodes!)

18. Favorite Season?

I think the honour goes to season 5! It would probably be S6, if not for the whole 'Dorothy falls back in love with Stan' plot line. S7 is the one that contains the highest count of favourite episodes for me, but I think S5 is stronger as a whole, and it's got some true gems.

19. If the girls hadn’t had their established careers, what other ones could you picture them doing?

Oh, let's see! Stan mentions Dorothy always wanted to open an antique shop back in S1E11 The Return of Dorothy's Ex, and I think that really fits her. I can also see her as a (very passionate) librarian! And, of course, she'd be great as a college professor / history researcher.

Despite the Girls' lack of confidence in her ability to keep things alive, I think with proper training Rose would work well as a nurse. She already volunteers for the hospital, she can be competent when given the chance, she's a giving person, and she loves taking care of people, so I think she at least has the right attitude for it -- although I'd never place her in a stressful unit, especially at the start of the show! Apart from this, anything to do with animals, of course -- a zoo, a farm, a pet shop, she'd excel in all of them!

I can see Blanche thriving as a trophy wife, haha 😂 but that's not properly a career, so it's not a valid answer. Taking her keen artistic eye into account, I think she'd be great as a designer -- either a fashion designer, or an interior decorator. She also showed some talent and interest in psychology during the series, although I'm not sure she'd manage to remain completely professional as a psychologist. 😅

As for Sophia, I think she'd do well in any position that allows her to be a motivator! She's great at encouraging people through a bit of tough love, and she's a very driven person herself -- so I think she'd do well as a manager of sorts, although the kind of manager that still works hands-on too. I believe she'd manage to hold her own in more or less any field; she's very adaptable! I do think she's at her best in a kitchen, though.

20. Best aspects of the show in your opinion?

There's a lot! The writing, the performances, the costume department, it was all exceptional. I think the best aspect to me is the premise, and how seriously they took it! The idea of a show centered on four older women living together is groundbreaking, especially since it didn't make a mockery of them -- the Girls are serious, well-rounded characters, with full lives, written with lots of love and respect. I think this show really convinced me that life isn't over once you hit 30, and that there's plenty to look forward to as you age! A lot of people my age are terrified of growing older, and here I am, eager to see what's coming next -- and I owe at least some of this attitude to this show. I'm really grateful!

21. (This question is for my fellow cheesecake lovers) favourite cheesecake flavour?

:) Great question! I love cheesecakes in general, but I'm especially partial to raspberry cheesecakes.

22. Storyline you wished they had expanded upon?

The show has an unfortunate tendency to introduce characters and then forget about them, which allowed for more variety in the stories they chose to tell, but I would have liked to see some of the Girls' relatives and friends return! Like, I don't know -- Jean, for example, or Blanche's nephew from back in S1. Some of the guests' arcs are complete within their episode (as happens eg for Lily, Rose's sister), but others remained a bit 'in the air', and I think it would have been nice to see them again.

Oh, and also -- I would have liked some little references to the Girls' issues and problems outside of the episodes they're tackled in! References to Blanche's pacemaker, for example, or to Rose's addiction, or to Dorothy's CFS (or her hearing aid!!). I understand that the time was limited, but even a small callback or two would have been nice!

23. Questions you’d ask the actresses?

Does 'will you marry me' count? 😭

I'm not sure -- knowing me, I'd probably be unable to utter a word in their presence! Rather than ask questions, I think I'd just thank them for bringing such an incredible, wonderful show to life. It wouldn't have been the same without them.

24. Episode that brings you the most comfort?

Most of them, really. Even the sad ones; I hear the first few notes of the opening theme and my spirits are already lifted. I can pick one per season, if that's alright:

S1E25 The Way We Met

S2E17 Bedtime Story

S3E3 Bringing Up Baby

S4E4 Yokel Hero

S5E23 The Mangiacavallo Curse Makes a Lousy Wedding Present

S6E26 Henny Penny -- Straight, No Chaser

S7E23/24 Home Again, Rose

But honestly there's so many more I could mention! I just love these ladies so much and I love to watch them in situations, haha.

25. Episode that made you laugh the hardest?

This is a cruel choice! Golden Girls is infamous in my house as 'the show that makes the-eclectic-wonderer howl with laughter', and I think that speaks for itself 😂

Let me pick at least three: S2E4 It's a Miserable Life, S7E2 The Case of the Libertine Belle, and S7E4 That's For Me To Know.

26. Which other work that the actresses did you enjoy the most?

I believe most of Estelle's career prior to The Golden Girls was in the theater, so I'm not sure it's even possible to watch her other works, unfortunately.

Show me Bea Arthur singing literally anything and I will be on my knees in seconds. Her musical performances are peak. Also -- I still haven't watched Maude, but I already know I'll love it.

Maude includes Rue as well -- I cannot wait to fall in love with her as Vivian too! And I have one of her early movies in my watch list, although I'm waiting for the right moment to watch it (homegirl plays a stripper and I'm not sure I can handle it in company without making a fool of myself, considering my big gay crush on her).

As for Betty -- Life With Elizabeth, absolutely. She's so funny and so beautiful and so captivating in it! She's simply charming, I love her to bits.

27. Best St Olaf Story?

The Great Herring War from S1E25 The Way We Met, no question. It's not necessarily the strongest from a comedy point of view (although it's certainly up there -- it's hilarious!), but the context and the way Dorothy and Blanche contribute to it make it the most memorable one, imho. It's my favourite, for sure.

(The story of Gunilla Bjorndunker, St Olaf's tallest woman, as told in S6E3 If At Last You Do Succeed is in second place).

28. Best slut story?

It changes every time I hear one, lmao! I love all of Blanche's stories!

If I must pick one -- I really enjoy Blanche's retelling of that time she realized she was even more devastating by moonlight in S1E25 The Way We Met, if only for that incredible final line ("It was at that moment I realized my bosoms had the power to make music!"). I'm not sure if it counts, because it's so brief, but her involuntary remembrance of that time she had to call a cab to get home because the sailor she hooked up with wouldn't wake up (S2E17 Bedtime Story) always has me in stitches -- I love how unexpected and effective it is!

Oh, and I'm really fond of the one she tells her mama in S3E25 Mother's Day. I'm very sensitive to the theme of loved ones getting older and having trouble remembering stuff, so that whole flashback hits close to home for me, and I love how Blanche's story helps her and her mama connect over shared memories. It's really touching (and Rue's acting is spectacular).

29. Best Sicily story?

Sophia's alleged encounter with Pablo Picasso, as narrated in S6E24 Never Yell Fire In A Crowded Retirement Home: Part 1. I somehow didn't anticipate the punchline, and I lost my shit when Sophia name-dropped Picasso. I still lose my shit every time I listen to it. It's a classic.

30. Which girl would you be most interested in seeing a prequel of? And at which point in their life?

I would pay dearly for a young!Dorothy show. It might be depressing (because her life with Stan was... well... yikes) but also imagine -- Dorothy learning how to be a mom, her life at college, building herself a life... so many possibilities!!! And it would be even better if it featured some flashbacks to Sophia's life in Sicily!

I would enjoy a show about teenage Blanche's adventures, too, but a part of me thinks those stories are at their best when retold by Blanche herself (ie when there's a good amount of doubt as to their veracity, lmao).

[non-un-topo]

Talking to my sister can be one of the most aggravating experiences

[fragmentedblade]

Just how big was Teng Xiao if Cirrus calls Jing Yuan a "lightweight"???

[peapod20001]

In my...✨ depression bed ✨ phase <3

[narutomaki]

people will tell me it doesn't matter what people think about me and then turn around and go home/online to the people that love and care about them unconditionally

[the-cooler-king]

Oh yeah..... midnight gospel be hitting.... sitting in my bed fuckin. Crying. Get a grip girl

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"