#and wille was ‘but i’d marry you with paper rings’

[lesbiantrish]

IM NOT OKAY

[ofstoriesandstardust]

maroon (j.h.s.)

a/n: every goddamn piece of this is self-indulgent but as jordan always says, is that not what fanfiction is meant to be? i’d be more than willing to write more for these two but i’m also afraid this is what’s going to get me voted off the top gun island so goodbye i’m going to go hide under a rock until further notice. 

pt. ii

summary: (Kazansky!reader) This is the way had always been. 

Hangman flirted with anything and everything, bedding a new women every night and leaving them the next morning. 

So when he picks up flirting with you, you know he’s just in it for the trouble, a way to get under your Dad’s skin. He’s just in it for the scarlet color of your cheeks every time he calls you “darling”. He’s just after you because you’re young and new, fresh meat for him. You know you’d never let your guard down enough to be wooed by this man, no matter how good it feels to have those sea-glass eyes on you. 

And that’s how it goes. Hangman flirting with you every night while you worked, under the watchful eye of his team mates, with nothing more ever coming of it. 

Until one night it changes, all because of a cowboy hat. 

partially inspired by taylor swift’s “maroon”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: age gap (of 11-ish years? but the specific years aren’t mentioned just that there is an age gap), implied/referenced sex, kissing, a heavy makeout, hickeys, i haven’t made out with anyone in two years, this is the closest to smut you will catch me writing, swearing, alcohol, Icemav but it’s a minor plot point, Maverick never pulled Rooster’s papers but he still went to UVA

word count: 2,885

His eyes track her across the bar, watching the way Bradshaw’s hands clap down on her shoulders, causing her to startle as she carries a crate. Even dressed in a plain black tee and jeans, a brown belt adorning her waist, he can’t help but admire how good she looks. 

He watches as she offers Bradshaw a forced smile, causing a frown to tug at the brunette’s lips. Ever the pair, Bradshaw cared for her in a way only a brother could. Bradshaw settles down at the bar as she begins to unload clean glasses into the bar in preparation for what would probably be a busy Saturday night. 

It’s futile for him to pretend he doesn’t remember the way she climbed into his lap the night before, straddling him, as he undid her belt in a flurry of passion, in vivid detail. 

He knows that hidden beneath the material of her shirt are bruises he left, always wanting to claim and mark what was his. 

The bell at the door of the Hard Deck rings, pulling him from remembering the night before any longer as he watches Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell walk through the door. 

Sometimes, it baffled him that the two of them were married. Sometimes, he realized there was no one more perfect for them than the other. 

He watches the couple settle at the bar, talking with Rooster and the bartender, so clearly fond of both. 

“Hey, how come Admiral Kazansky’s so fond of Penny’s bartender?” 

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them as he leans up against his pool cue. Coyote lets out a half-laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” 

He turns to his friend. “What?” 

Coyote shakes his head, turning away from him as he moves to take his shot. “Just can’t believe you’re so clueless.” 

“What?” 

Coyote finally straightens up, looking at him. “She’s his daughter.” 

He pales, looking to his friend closely for confirmation he’s not just fucking with him. He kind wishes he was, that Coyote’s hand would clap on his shoulder and say Nah, just kidding man, should’ve seen your face though.

His hands feels sweaty against his pool cue as a growing pit of dread forms in his stomach. Coyote frowns as he remains silent. “What?” 

“Oh, I fucked up.” He whispers, mostly to himself as he stumbles back, landing in one of the spare bar stools near them. 

Coyote follows, coming closer. “What did you do?” 

He lets go of his pool cue, Coyote grabbing it before it clangs to the ground as his hands move to rub over his face. “Oh, I’ve fucked up.” 

Coyote takes a half-step closer, nudging his shoulder. He looks up to meet the somewhat suspecting look on his best friend’s face. 

“What did you do?”

-

The first time you meet Jake Seresin, it’s a sunny Wednesday afternoon in May. It’s been eleven days since you graduated college, packing up your whole life and moving back home to San Diego, not that anyone’s counting. 

The bell above the door of the Hard Deck jingles as he walks through it, pulling off his shades as his eyes adjust to the the dimmer lighting of the bar. He saunters towards the bar, pulling your attention from where you’re wiping down the bar. He settles on the bar stool in front of you, offering you his trade-mark, award-winning smile (one that you’re sure he’s been told is dazzling).

Penny’s just gone back to the office to grab something and you take a deep breath, looking up at him. He’d be the first customer you served... ever. 

“How can I help you?” You ask. 

He ignores the question, pulling a toothpick form his pocket and putting it in his mouth. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, a moment he doesn't miss. “Admiring the view?” 

You shake your head, clearing any thoughts from you brain. “I assume you came in here for a drink.”

He shrugs, setting an arm on the bar to lean up against it even though he’s sat. “Who knows? Maybe I came in here to talk to the pretty new bartender.” 

“The pretty new bartender is off-limits Hangman.” Penny calls from the office. 

“And why is that?” He calls back. 

She appears in the doorway of the office, causing you to look behind you. “Because she’s 22 and fresh out of college.” 

“I’ve always liked them young.” He says, eyes raking over you. “Fresh out of college, you say?” 

The bell rings again, pulling your attention to the door. “Don’t even think about it, Bagman.” Bradley calls from the front door, striding towards the two of you. 

His eyes don’t leave your body, still looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. “Oh, but I am Bradshaw.” 

Bradley comes in to view, nudging his shoulder. “Stay away from my little sister Bagman.” 

That causes the blonde’s eyes to fly up from where they had settled on your chest, rapidly moving between you and Bradley. “You serious Bradshaw?” 

“We’re not related.” You answer, finding your voice as two other (you’re assuming) pilots approach the bar. You distantly recognize them as Bob and Phoenix, friends of Bradley’s from the uranium enrichment plant mission that brought him back to San Diego permanently. 

The blonde seems to breathe a sigh of relief, body physically sagging with it. 

“We might as well be.” Bradley answers, tossing you a look. “Our Dads are friends.” 

You snort. “Sure. Friends.” 

You recognize a couple of the other pilots that approach the bar from pictures Brad’s sent you, from the Facebook posts Mav makes. From the phone calls with your Dad, talking about the new group of pilots permanently stationed at North Island. From the stories of the legends who had nearly died together, who had all come home. 

Bradley rolls his eyes as his friends join him. “You know what I mean. We go way back.” 

“Will I ever be able to get rid of you?” You ask ruefully, shooting him a smile. 

Bradley pulls his aviators further down on his nose, giving you a smirk and a wink. “Never, darling. You’re stuck with me.” You shake your head as he pushes his aviators back on to his nose. “How’s your first day going?” 

You shrug. “It’s a bar job that my Dad hooked up for me so I don’t sit at home twiddling my thumbs for the foreseeable future while I try to figure out what do to do with my life.” 

“Hey, shit could always be worse.” He says, offering you a smile. 

Natasha, who’ve you learned to recognize from the years she’s been friends with the person who’s inserted himself into your life from the moment you were born, offers you a small smile. “How was graduation?” 

“I’m still mad you wouldn’t let me come.” Bradley mutters. 

“Okay top 1% Naval aviator who can just drop everything to come to my graduation.” You say, rolling your eyes. “But it was good. I’m happy to be back in San Diego.” You say, now looking back towards Natasha. 

“Well, if you ever need anything, give me a holler.” You nod, smiling at her words. 

“I know how you could help me.” Hangman says, eyes never leaving yours once. 

Bradley leans over to smack him upside the head. “Don’t even think about it Bagman, I’ll drown your ass in the ocean outside.”

-

And so that’s how it goes. 

Everyday after work, Bradley and company would appear at the Hard Deck. You quickly learned their callsigns and their names and their lives, some of the finest people you knew. 

Bob, who offered you a goofy smile and would sit at the bar on slow nights, just to chat. 

Coyote, who always tipped well. 

Fanboy, who sat and discussed the plot line of the latest Pokemon game for the Nintendo Switch in-depth with you. 

Payback, who always cracked a joke that made you laugh no matter what kind of day you were having. 

Phoenix, also known as Natasha, (to you, just Nat) who always invited you and Callie and Amelia over for girls nights, who felt more like a big sister than a friend, who fit so seamlessly into your life it was like she’d always been there. 

And then there was Bagman. Also known as Hangman. Also known as Jake. 

Jake, who reveled in the scarlet of your cheeks every time he complimented you, commenting on how flattering your top made your chest look, or how he admired the way the bar lights reflected in your eyes. Jake, who had no problem picking up women, and yet had set his sights on you. 

Jake, who was completely and thoroughly off-limits, no matter how much your heart wanted him. 

Wanted the man who gave you a dazzling smile every time he entered the bar, who always asked about your day, who always made sure you got home safe. Your stupid heart wouldn’t catch up with what your brain (and everyone else) already knew. That you couldn’t have Jake and even if you could, he didn't want you. You were someone fun to flirt with because ti was easy to fluster you, easy to get under your skin.

So you resigned yourself to hang to the back, to watch him woo women night after night, watch him sleep with anything that had a pulse. To hear about his conquests the next day when he discussed the marks left on his body, the blush of your cheeks at his graphic description of how he got them. 

(One time, he asked you if you’d like to do the same to him. You don’t think you breathed properly for fifteen minutes.)

You resigned yourself to be nothing more than the pretty bartender and it stayed that way as the summer months went by.

-

“This doesn’t seem like your scene. What’re you doing here?” 

You jump, relaxing slightly when you catch sight of Jake, dressed in a nice pair of blue jeans and deep emerald green shirt that compliments his eyes. His outfit is completed by the cowboy hat on top of his head, prompting you to giggle and raise an eyebrow. “A cowboy hat? Really?” 

He narrows his eyes, bottom lip jutting out as his fingers pass over the rim. “I happen to like it quite a bit. It makes me feel like home. And it is cowboy night after all.” He steps into your space. “But you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” 

“I could ask you the same thing, Bagman.” You say, although the close proximity of his body to yours is making it hard for you to breath properly. 

He shrugs, backing away and falling back to a couch shoved into the corner of the bar. It gives him the perfect view of the bar, even if it’s dimly lit enough for it to make it difficult to see who’s back here. He pats the spot next to him expectantly, as if you joining him is the most natural thing in the world. You sigh, taking the seat next to him as you watch the dancing out on the floor. 

“One of my neighbors heard about this and invited me. My Dad has been trying to get me out of the house for anything besides work so here I am.” 

He nods, eyes skimming over the crowd. “And your neighbor? Where is she?” 

You hum, eyes searching the crowd for the girl. “She’s been dying to meet a cowboy, so maybe I should introduce the two of you- hey, there she is!” You point the girl out. She’s cozied up to another man, also wearing a cowboy hat. 

“She’s not my type.” He says, taking a sip of his drink. 

You splutter, bringing your gaze back to him. “Not your type? She’s gorgeous.” 

He shrugs. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to her.” 

“So then what is your type?” He says nothing, simply bringing his gaze to yours, looking you over once before returning to his gaze to the dance floor. He takes another sip of his drink and you can’t help but watch the way he licks his lips. 

“She’s not a very good friend if she’s leaving you alone for any man to swoop in.” 

“Oh, like you?” You ask, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. You feel your cheeks warm as he returns his piercing gaze to you. 

“Perhaps.” He says with a nonchalant shrug, eyes moving over the maroon top on. The one your neighbor had encouraged you to wear because it quote, showed you off in all the right ways. You duck your head, cheeks blooming in an even redder color. 

He reaches out, picking you up to set you in his lap, causing you to yelp at the movement. “You gotta warn a girl before you start manhandling them, Seresin.” 

“Manhandling?” He asks through a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “You call that manhandling, sweetheart?” 

You huff, your cheeks still warm. Still, your arms fall to sit behind his head, hands coming to cup his neck. One of your hands reaches up, knocking his cowboy hat. “And what is it with this?” 

He adjusts it back in to place, frowning. “You don’t like?” 

You shrug, unable to look away from his emerald eyes. “Never said I didn’t. What if I wanted to wear the cowboy hat?” 

He smirks. “You know the rule, sweetheart.” 

You snort. “The rule?” 

His smirks grows wider, making a coil tighten in your stomach. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

Your ears begin to ring as your heart seems to stop in your chest as his words. 

You duck your head, cheeks feeling a firetruck red as you take in the implication  of his words. He lets you look away for a minute before one of his hands leaves the back of your thigh, reaching up to grab your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to his. 

“I mean, only if you want to.” 

You’re sure if your brain was an image it would the spinning wheel of your computer restarting as your tongue suddenly goes dry, unsure of what to say. 

“I don’t get it.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, letting his hand drop from your chin. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean- Well, you’ve never shown interest in me before.” 

“Yes, I have.” He splutters, eyebrows drawing together even more. “I flirt with you like, all of the time.” 

You roll your eyes as his hands moves up to the back of your neck, gently moving your hair to one side. He reaches up to softly adjust your necklace that must have shifted out of place when he’d unceremoniously plopped you in his lap. “You flirt with everything Bagman.” 

He leans closer, hovering over your lips. “Not like I flirt with you, sweetheart. And please, I wish you’d just call me Jake.” 

You swallow, unable to look away from his piercing eyes. “Okay, Jake.” His hands have fallen back to your waist and he’s made no move to pull back. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” He whispers, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

You blink in surprise. “Hardly anything, why?” 

“Because I only want to do this if you want this. And I want you to want this while sober.” You can only bring yourself to nod, words suddenly leaving you. Still, it’s not enough for Jake as he murmurs, “Need to hear you say it sweetheart.” 

“I want this.” 

It’s all the confirmation Jake needs as he surges forward, connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is strong, stealing any remnants of breath from your chest as both of his hands slip down past your waist to rest on your ass. His grip against you is strong, pulling you farther into him as your hands have nowhere to go back to tug at his hair. 

He gently tugs at your bottom lip, cautiously ask for permission. You grant it to him, his tongue heavy against your own. His hands glide over your ass as your own find purchase in his hair, tugging at the strands. 

He breaks the kiss, one of his hands sliding up your body to rest on the back of your neck. His touch leaves you feeling warm all over as you pant, struggling to catch your breath as his lips fall to the crook of your neck, pressing gentle yet hungry kisses to the bare skin. 

Your eyes flutter close when he finds that spot, teeth digging into your skin. “Jake, you-” You swallow, mouth too dry to speak. “You’re gonna leave a mark.” 

“Good.” He mutters into the skin before continuing his work, leaving a bruise you know is gonna be a bitch to deal with in the morning. “Wanna leave a mark to match the color of your cheeks.” 

He finally pulls away after taking his sweet time to mark up your neck. “That was hot.” You mutter under his watchful gaze, head still spinning with the way the night is turning out. 

“We should get out of here.” He whispers. 

“Before you get dishonorably discharged for public indecency?” 

His smirk is back as he grips your thighs, leaning in closer. “That’s exactly why sweetheart.” 

[seeingivy]

cornelia street

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: mentions of drinking, reader has diabetes, mentions of misogyny in the workplace, satoru and reader are lawyers, gojo calls reader bonnie bc they're bonnie and clyde, a teenager who pees on da sidewalk, and a bitchy barista

an: 50+ listens to cornelia street and she's done. a request from the lovely @skzismyhome I hope you love it pookie and thank you for your support always!!!

--

You look down at the contract in front of you, willing down the angry tears settling in your eyes. 

You knew that this day would come. It comes for everyone, for every son and daughter in higher society. The day they arrange your marriage. 

And you never really dreaded it. Or hated it. Utahime was nearly murderous when it was happening to her, Shoko almost eloped and moved to the countryside when it was her turn, and Mei Mei was the only one who actually disappeared off the face of the Earth. 

But you didn’t really care. Since you were young, you knew that this was something that you were being primed for. Why you had to be the best. You just hoped when it happened, it would be everything like your parents. 

They didn’t love each other. But they were partners. By each other’s side. More like friends who just also happened to be married and had kids together. 

But like all things in higher society, you never get what you want. Because the idiot you’re signing the papers with is the most entitled, self-centered egotistical asshat you’ve ever met. 

Satoru Gojo. 

“Last matter of business. I think this decision lands on Y/N, since Satoru made the last one. Where would you like to live?” 

You scribble your answer onto the page and sign the line next to your name at the bottom. Satoru follows suit, sliding the ring box to your side, as you both shuffle in your seats. 

Satoru has no reason to hate you. If anything, he should be praising the fucking ground you walk on for what he did to you. You slide the ring on your own finger and collect the papers, sealing them into the envelope. 

“Where did you pick? For us to live?” 

“Cornelia Street.”

--

You and Satoru butt heads often. You start it. Sometimes he argues back. You’re both pissed off by the end of it. 

“I’ll run the errands, Satoru.”  

He groans as he swings open the fridge, pulling out his leftovers from the night before. 

“It’s literally right next to my office. I could just grab it if you tell me what it is you need.” 

“No, thank you. I can get my things on my own.” 

“Why are you so stubborn all the time? You haven’t even let me do anything since-”

“I can do my shopping on my own, thanks.” 

You would let Satoru do it. You would. Because it is really annoying to run down to the store every time you need something, but you’re not giving in. 

Because that would require you to indulge Satoru in more personal information than you would like to, so you can’t. Because you don’t fraternize with the devil. 

The thing you need from the store isn’t actually from the store, it’s from the pharmacy next to it. You’re out of your long insulin pods, because you’ve been so busy with work. Because your own pancreas is so stupid, it can’t produce it’s own insulin. You have to buy it from the store, in a stupid little patch that painfully pricks into your stomach every time you insert it. 

He blocks the doorway as you try to walk out, blue eyes peering into yours. 

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you?” 

“Because that worked out so well for me last time, Satoru.” 

He groans as he presses his fingers to his nose bridge, nearly rolling his eyes at you. 

“You know. If you’d let me explain that, I’d actually-” 

“There’s nothing to explain. I asked you to give me a shoo in for my dream job. You quite explicitly told them not to hire me.” 

Three summers ago was the first time you were graced with Satoru Gojo’s presence. And hell, you actually tolerate him. Maybe even liked him. You were both doing an internship, at the Zenin’s law firm in Brooklyn. 

You and Satoru were somewhat of a…dream team. Every case you worked on together gave you a rush, like he’d finish your thoughts before you were thinking. Like you picked up where he lacked and vice versa. You were Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime. 

So when they gave Satoru the associate position first, you asked him to pick you for the second associate opening. Because the person who gets that opening gets to be his partner. And you had convinced him - that you two would be a dream team, that you would be unstoppable. He agreed, in fact - he promised he would give it to you. 

Which is why you felt blindsided when they picked an outsider, Getou Suguru, as the associate. And when you asked the head of the Zenin’s, Toji, why he didn’t pick you, you were mad. Why you weren’t the associate when you ran to get coffee for all of them all summer, stayed up late on cases, and busted your ass off, he said that Satoru didn’t think you were a good fit. And he has to make sure staff has good personal relations. 

“Why are you so stubborn? You literally won’t even talk to me about-” 

“I don’t want to talk to you! What part of that do you not fucking understand? I don’t like you. I’m never going to like you because you’re an egotistical, sadistic little prick and-

“And what are you? You’re an entitled little know it all. You don’t even listen before jumping to your own fucking conclusions about-” 

“It’s not jumping to conclusions when Toji tells me straight to my face that you didn’t think I was a good fit. You’re fucking dense as fuck if you think I don’t know that.” 

You push past him, marching angrily down Cornelia Street. 

--

You press your face against the glass, watching the mounds of snow out in the street. You and Satoru have been snowed in on Cornelia Street for three days now, the stupid climate change induced storm in the middle of November trapping you for good. 

In theory, you would have loved something like this. A break from work for a few days, nice weather for you to watch movies and cuddle up on the couch. Except, there’s an intruder in your house who has the same ideas as you. 

“Hey.” 

“Shove a fork in your eye, Satoru.” 

“You get more creative as time goes on. I appreciate that in a wife.” 

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the kitchen, where Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen. 

“Did you eat all the food already?” 

“You know, if you actually did groceries on time, maybe we would actually have food for emergencies like this, Satoru.” 

“First you don’t want me to do groceries and now you do? You’re so unpredictable it’s like-”

“I’m unpredictable? You’ve got to be kidding-” 

“Oh my god. We’re not doing this today. I get it. I stole your dream job. Ruined your life. You hate me. Just, shut up about it already.” 

He’s swirling the spoon through the saucepan as he waits for it, your irritated, agitated retort. And it doesn’t come. 

He looks over to find you all but leaning over the counter, your head pressing into your forearm as you wobble on your feet. He instinctively reaches forward, holding you up in his arms. 

“Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you-” 

You lean forward against his chest, pressing your hands against his biceps as you feel your legs go limp. Right. Day three on Cornelia Street. With no extra insulin pods left. 

“I’m out of-”

You slump forward more this time and Satoru drops the spoon on the floor, securing you against him as he leads you to the couch, laying you down flat on your back. His hands are on your face, firm on your cheeks as his voice starts wavering. 

“What-what do I do? Tell me how to fix this, I-” 

“Candy. Or anything sugar should-” 

You can’t even finish the sentence before he bolts up, rummaging through the drawers before he returns. His touch is so gentle, so featherlike, as he helps you up, his hands shaking as he helps you drink the juice. 

His hand is rubbing circles into your back, his cheek pressed into the top of your head as you both slow your breathing. And when you level out, Satoru’s hands are pressed around your face again, cupping your cheeks again. 

“You okay, Bonnie?” 

Bonnie. Like that summer, when you were Bonnie and Clyde. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re positive?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Perfect. Are you a fucking dumbass?” 

You lean your face out of his touch, more confused and disoriented than before. You-you just passed out and he’s yelling at you? 

“Satoru. You’re so rude. I just-”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m yelling at you. I’m yelling at you because we literally live together and are married and you didn’t tell me you have fucking diabetes.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“And? You can’t be fucking serious right now-” 

He pushes off the couch, pacing back in forth in front of you as he starts yelling, angrily running his hands through your hair. 

“You’re-you’re this fucking mad at me? It was one job. And you-you would compromise your health over it?” 

“This isn’t compromising my health. I just didn’t know there would be a storm and-” 

“Y/N. Oh my fucking god, get it through your thick head. I’m your emergency contact. If you were fucking dying in a hospital and they ask me what’s wrong with you, I wouldn’t know. And then they would probably kill you because I didn’t know you had diabetes.” 

You lean your head back against the couch, feeling the strain all at once. You’re drained. And you hate it when Satoru’s right. Because he is your emergency contact, because he’s your husband - whether you like it or not. 

After not responding right away, Satoru leans back onto the couch with you, a hand pressed in your hair. He’s brushing through the tresses, his voice soft when he speaks again. 

“God, Bonnie. Just let me take care of you.” 

“That didn’t work out wel-

“Well for you last time. Quit saying the same shit over and over again. That was three years ago. And we’re…married now. I’m..supposed to take care of you now and I’m going to so just let me.” 

You deflate as he keeps running his hands through your hair, the lack of insulin and energy surely imparing your inhibitions. 

“Fine.” 

He turns over to you, a wide smirk pressed against his face. 

“Fine? You, Y/N L/N, agreeing with me?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

He laughs, leaning his head against yours as he moves his arm down your back, squeezing your side once before he talks again. 

“Got any other big secrets you’re keeping from me?” 

“I murdered a guy. He’s in our attic.” 

“Ouch. What did he do, Bonnie?” 

“It was an accident. I thought he was you.” 

He presses your face into his hand, rolling his eyes at you. 

--

Satoru is pleasantly surprised to find out that you don’t argue with just him, your unfiltered and unabashed rage is something that you do with everyone. Your latest victim? Your little brother, Yuuta. 

You’ve been screaming at him for a better part of the past hour, because Yuuta’s being a fucking idiot. Yuuta was never into the whole arranged marriage, higher society thing. And you knew that. 

You just never think he’d come to your place, asking you and Satoru for money so he could run away with Maki. 

“This is the wrong move, Yuu. You’re only nineteen.” 

“I have to do this now. I can’t do what you did. I don’t care if you like him now and you’re friends or whatever, I just really…really love her, okay?” 

“You love her? Then stop being a fucking idiot about it. You’re both making a stupid decision that’s just going to hurt you. You can’t just run away from your problems.” 

“Y/N. You’re always think you know what’s best and you control-” 

“Yuuta, you little piece of-” 

Satoru stops you before you walk further, yanking you back by firmly pulling on your wrist. He leans forward, whispering I got this in your ear before yanking Yuuta out of your apartment and down the opposite block of Cornelia Street. 

When they return, they both have the audacity to be smiling, Yuuta holding two cups of Coppola’s Coffee in his hand. He sets one in front of you, awkwardly brushing his hand against his neck. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You’re right.” 

You smile. 

“What was that? I didn’t really hear you.” 

“You were right.” 

“One more time. A little louder, Yuu.” 

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He walks back, pressing a kiss to your cheek and bidding goodbye to Satoru as he drags out the door. You turn to your side, glaring at Satoru. 

“What did you say to him?” 

“Ah, you know. The usual.” 

“The usual?” 

“Just talked him down. Told him if he really likes this Maki girl then he should ask us for help. We are his older siblings and all. That you just get mad because you care about him.”

You roll your eyes as you lie face down on the counter, cheeks burning. You’re his older siblings. Because Satoru’s his brother in law. You feel him tapping on your head, gleefully grinning at you. 

“What?” 

“Guess what time it is.” 

“You know, just because I pass out one time on accident doesn’t mean-” 

He presses his fingers to your lips, rolling his eyes as he places it in your hands. A pack of almonds. 

“Satoru.” 

“Did you know that almonds are the perfect snack? Because they’re high in magnesium, potassium-” 

“And vitamin E. Making the perfect nutrient-rich snack for those with impaired glucose tolerance.” you finish, mimicking his high pitched voice. 

He opens up the packet, pouring them all into your hand. And then he watches you eat every single one. You come up with an insult for each one you eat. 

“You’re a disgrace to humanity, Satoru.” 

“And?” 

“And a little pain in the ass. Like you know when you get a pimple stuck right in between your butt and it hurts to sit down? That’s what you are.” 

“Descriptive. Just one more almond and you’re done, Bonnie. Make the insult good.” 

“I don’t take orders from men. Least of all you.” 

You place the last one in your mouth, chewing and then sticking your tongue out to Satoru, to show you did in fact eat the entire thing. 

“That’s my girl. Not only does she eat all her food but hurls scathing insults at the same time.” 

“Being your biggest hater is my full time job, Satoru.” 

He laughs, pinching your cheek as he starts milling around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Ever since you and Satoru got snowed in and he found out about everything, you…were both surprisingly tame. Not at Bonnie and Clyde pre-getting backstabbed levels, but he’s not…horrible to be around. And he never really was. 

Because Satoru’s thoughtful. He’s googled all the ways to control blood sugar, reserached different pods for you to try, and always tries to balance the dinner (that you now let him make for you) to make sure that you’re eating all right. 

And he’s funny. He’s convinced you into watching the Bachlorette with him every week. And you’re above corny reality shows but his commentary is just so ridiculous you can’t help but watch with him. 

And he even got Yuuta and Maki to like him now. 

And really, it’s all types of irritating because you like him. You actually like him. He backstabbed you into oblivion but he’s also the sweetest, most compassionate guy you’ve ever talked to and you like him. 

You push off the counter, reaching for the cupboard and yank out the biggest glass of wine you can find. As soon as you finish pouring almost the entire bottle into the glass, Satoru snatches it out of your hand, cheekily smiling at you. 

“Thank you, Bonnie.” 

“I was going to drink that, Satoru.” 

“Diabetics should drink in moderation. Can’t have you passing out on me now.” 

“That was one time. You could share, you know.” 

He rolls his eyes as he hands you the glass, your hands burning from it. How intimate it is. That you and Satoru are sharing a glass, all warm and drowsy from the drink. And when he grabs your hand, leading you onto the little patio just off of your roof, you follow. Blindly. 

You’re both laying against the bricks, the lights of the city reflecting into the sky. There aren’t any stars out, only the tinted white of the fluorescnets against the dark sky. 

“Why’d you pick Cornelia Street, Bonnie?” 

“It’s quiet. And I always walked down it - when I used to go to class and then after when I started walking to work. I’ve always liked all the little people bustling by with Coppola’s on the corner.” 

“Hm.” 

“What?” 

“So do you like that kid who peed on the block last week?” 

“Ew. Gross, Satoru.” 

He laughs, leaning back on the tiles, beckoning for you to move closer to him. He opens up his arm, which you lean into, his arm wrapped around yours. The tiles are kind of digging into your back, but you ignore it because you don’t want to move and risk Satoru moving away from you. 

“Do you like Cornelia Street, Satoru?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m moved by the passion, Satoru. You can’t imagine yourself anyplace else, can you?” 

He looks over, blue eyes glimmering under the shy flourescents of the building, his voice firm as he answers. 

“No. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.” 

And from the look on his eyes, the way your skin is itching from the way he’s looking at you…you know he’s not talking about Cornelia Street. 

“Are you-” 

“Talking about Cornelia Street? I’m not, Bonnie. I’m talking about the girl who loves Cornelia Street.” 

You reach over, timidly pressing your hand to Satoru’s face as you shift his face over, his cheeks warm under your touch. He’s moving forward, eyes fluttered shut and you can feel your heart hammering under your chest. 

And when he presses his lips to yours, soft and plush with a hint of wine on his mouth, you can’t help but feel it all untangling in your chest. Unraveling. The way you feel about him, those stupid blue eyes and that lopsided smile. 

Because all of those summers ago, it wasn’t that you liked working with the Zenin’s. It’s that you liked working with Satoru. And it wasn’t a backstab to not get to work with the Zenin’s, it was that Satoru didn’t want you to work with him. 

He snakes his hand under your shirt, his touch featherlike but blossoming searing light onto your skin. 

“Satoru. This is public indecency.” 

He presses his head into your neck, peppering soft kisses into your neck as he responds. 

“Bonnie and Clyde were criminals, silly girl.”  

--

“Almonds, Bonnie.” 

“Satoru.” 

“Nope. Eat ‘em and we’ll go.” 

You roll your eyes as you tilt the packet back, shoving them all into your mouth. Satoru gives you a gleeful grin and a kiss on the forehead as he shoves you out the door. Satoru walks you to work everyday. And back home on the way back. To protect you from lewd street pee. 

You get coffee from Coppolas every morning, the barista always giving the two of you a shining smile. Whenever the flower vendors pass by, Satoru always buys you the pink ones, which make your heart pound but you always clown him for. 

Satoru insists that you wear your wedding ring everyday. And buys one for himself too, which he forces you to put on him. And he encourages you - to be better. Which is why you’re going to try again. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm, Bonnie?” 

“Can you do me a favor on your way to work?” 

“Sure.” 

“Mail this for me.” 

You hand him your job application, to work with the Zenin’s and Satoru, to fix what happened the first time. Granted, Satoru doesn’t really work with the Zenin’s anymore, but instead a different firm, but they do partner up sometimes. 

In a way, asking Satoru to do this for you is righting a wrong. Because he should put in a good word for you this time, so you can actually get your dream job. Because whatever stopped him the first time isn’t there now - he’s told you hundreds of times that you’re brilliant, the smartest person he’s ever met - so there’s no logical reason for him not to. 

So when you find the application in his bag, six days after the fact while looking for his phone, you’re a little bit confused. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm?” 

“Did you hear back from Toji? About the job?” 

“Ah, yeah. He’s not really into it. I gave it to him but he said there’s no associate openings.” 

Liar. As always, Satoru Gojo is a fucking liar. And it’s stupid. It’s so stupid of you to think otherwise. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you shove your things into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder. 

And you almost walk out the door before he catches you. 

“Hey. Where are we going, Bonnie?” 

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.” 

You watch the smile fall off of his face, the grip on your wrist loosening. 

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” 

“You really hate me that much, don’t you? You couldn’t even hand it in for real this time? You have that little faith in the work that I can do?” 

“This-this isn’t about the faith I have in you. You’re brilliant and I’ve always thought that about you. It’s just that it’s not right-” 

“Not right for me? Because working at one of the best law firms isn’t right for me? I should just slum it out where I’m at now.” 

“Bonnie, I can explain-” 

And you run straight out the door, flat off of Cornelia Street. 

--

Satoru doesn’t hear from you for nine days. And it’s pure agony. Waking up without you next to him. Watching people mill by on Cornelia Street, getting Coppola’s without you. The barista doesn’t even smile at him anymore. 

And when that stupid kid pees on the block again, he can’t even laugh at it. Because Cornelia Street without you is all types of wrong. 

He wakes up every morning, promptly at 7:30. Because if what you said is right, you take Cornelia Street on the way to work when you walk from home. But you never do. He’s never seen you walk past, not even once. 

You’re still going to work. He knows that because Maki told him so. Yuuta isn’t really talking to him anymore, but Maki begrudgingly gives him slivers of information that he lives off of. 

She’s going to work, just a different way. 

Yes, I gave her the almond packets. 

No, she doesn’t want to talk to you. 

But he knows you have to come back. Because your sewing machine and your vinyls and all your things are here. Because some selfish part of him thinks you have to come back because it’s him. Because some small part of you loves him the way the entirety of him has always loved you. 

So much so, that he’s had selfish intentions from the start. To protect you. 

If he was a smart guy, he would have picked you to be his partner when he was working with the Zenin’s straight out. Because you’re a dream team, because no one picks at his mind and makes him work in circles the way you do. 

But when he brought you up to Toji, it eliminated any possibility you had of working here. Because the Zenin’s are disgusting, misogynistic pigs. 

Toji said he would hire you on one condition. That Satoru shares you with him. Because Toji had caught on to the affections Satoru had held for you in earnest but still wanted his fair share of the cut. Because he’s still an old money lawyer, who uses his own power to his advantage. Because your pretty face is the only reason he hired you in the first place. 

He picks Getou the next time he sees Toji. And he never hears from you again. And that’s okay, because you end up working with Utahime at a different firm and he knows that you’re safe from this. And dear god does he miss you, but it is better than the alternative. 

And when your parents bring you together, because you’re both lawyers and that’s a common interest, he’s more than happy to sign the papers. Because it’s his chance to right his wrong. Because he still wants to be Bonnie and Clyde, in all the ways that matter. 

You pass out in his arms and his world stops. Because he’s always wanted to protet you, and he recognizes that some part of that is selfish because you can protect yourself, but god he just wants to take care of you because you mean something to him. 

And when you leaned over and kissed him, Satoru loves you. He loves you and he loves Cornelia Street and he loves everything you love. Because anything you like is anything he likes. You could tell him that you hate the sky and he’d never look at it again. 

But when you hand him that shiny job application, asking for his support, he can’t. Because now more than ever, he can’t let his wife even stand near idiots like Toji. The thought of someone thinking about you like that, let alone doing something like that is enough to send him into a blind rage, that would most definitely get him blacklisted from literally any workplace. 

And dear god does he wish you would have heard him out when you left. Because he would have told you. That you were all types of brilliant, that you keep him on his toes, that you’re the only god damn thing he’s ever wanted. 

That he can’t let you work there because he loves you. Because he wants you to be happy always, to be surrounded by people who respect you for you, who think you’re just as brilliant as you actually are. 

And he’d actually be able to do that if he could fucking find you. He wanders a different street everyday, hoping to catch you walking to work. It’s currently day nine and he has yet to find success. But when he sees them, shiny black loafers across the sidewalk, he runs into incoming traffic just to catch you. 

He gets angry honks and yelling because New Yorkers are always rude, but he doesn’t care. You’re like a ghost. You can get away if he doesn’t walk fast enough. And when he catches your elbow, stopping you from walking, he knows he’s done it. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Satoru. Why are you…panting?” 

“Ran into traffic.” 

“Wish they hit you.” 

He takes you in. And just like Maki said, you’re fine. Well, you look fine. A bit angry, that stupid vein bulging out on your forehead, but you’re okay. 

“Why don’t you walk on Cornelia Street?” 

“What?” 

“You said you picked Cornelia Street because it’s on the way to work. That you like to watch the people on Cornelia Street and Coppola’s on the corner. You haven’t walked there for nine days. Why?” 

He watches you roll your eyes as you shake his hand off, walking past him. But Satoru’s faster, basically pinning you into the wall by putting his arms around you. 

“Give me an answer.” 

“No, Satoru.” 

“Bonnie. You love Cornelia Street. Have since you were a kid. Why aren’t you walking there?” 

You can feel the tears rising up in your eyes, the anger bubbling out of you as you respond. 

“Because of you, asshole. Because Cornelia Street is you. I see that dumbass teenager piss on the street and all I can think about is how you think it’s funny. The guy selling flowers? I think about which ones you would pick out and buy for me. Coppola’s? The girl does’t even smile at me anymore. I don’t walk Cornelia Street because I can’t. Because it’s all you now. Everything I like there reminds me of you.” 

He can feel it. His heart burning. He can still make this right. 

“She’s kind of a bitch, you know? She doesn’t smile at me either.” 

You laugh, your chest heaving from the pain. Because seeing him again makes your chest burn. Ache. Because you miss him and because you love him. And when he opens his arms and shoves you into his chest, his smell in your nose, all you can do is cry, cheeks burning into his skin. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you. You’re a back stabber.” 

“If you let me explain, I would-” 

“Fine. Let’s hear your great explanation.” 

So when you start making your way back, he explains. That he’s selfish. And a back-stabber. And when he tells you what Toji says, he doesn’t miss the way you cringe, the way your face goes blank when he thinks about it. 

About how he knows he should have told you but he hates to see you down. How Bonnie and Clyde was always going to be more than a work thing, but the thing he wants forever. 

And when you reach the front of the door, of your apartment on Cornelia Street, he can’t help but feel a weight in his chest. Because you’re quietly standing, staring at the door. Granted, you are holding his hand and it’s a good sigh, but…you haven’t said anything. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yes?” 

“I really…messed this up, didn’t I?”

“What?” 

And when you turn to his side, he’s floored at the fact that you’re crying. Begging him to stay with you. 

“Satoru. I-I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t walk away I, I don’t-” 

He clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head as you as he deflates. 

“God, Bonnie. You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?” 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I want to walk Cornelia Street with you. I want to buy you flowers and check the mailbox with you. I want Yuuta and Maki to pretend to throw up when they see us kissing and I want to take care of you. If you’ll just let me, I’ll do it right.” 

And when you lean forward, the kiss is messy. Your tears are falling on to his face and he’s way too eager from the way he’s hanging off of your lips, the way he’s literally shaking you in his hold. 

You walk Cornelia Street the next day. And you’re part of the constants of the street. The guy selling flowers, the fresh fruit cart on Saturdays, lewd pee kid when he’s drunk, and two very happy in love lawyers.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06@bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme

[daydreamingleclerc]

taylor swift: the formula 1 masterlist

okay so.. i thought i’d combine my two true loves in life: taylor swift & formula one. things might change as the masterlist goes on and new drivers might be added, smut will be as indicated.

drivers include:

carlos sainz jr

charles leclerc

daniel ricciardo

lewis hamilton

lance stroll

mick schumacher

pierre gasly

songs & storylines:

fearless; mick schumacher

y/n’s first date with mick, and he makes it so easy she forgets why she was ever nervous.

speak now; daniel ricciardo ($)

all daniel ever wanted was for you to be happy. until he realised that for himself to be happy, it meant he had to be with you.

enchanted; mick schumacher

guenther stieners daughter has always loved mick, and now he’s not a haas driver anymore, she really doesn’t want him to be in love with anybody else.

better than revenge; pierre gasly (*)

to get back at your ex, you sleep with his best friend in the bed you once shared.

red; carlos sainz jr

a whirlwind six month romance that started and ended exactly the same way: unexpected

begin again; lewis hamilton

y/n starts dusting off the bruises from her last relationship and opens her arms to new love with a person she least expected.

how you get the girl; lance stroll ($)

lance bumps into you after nine months apart, and when he shows up at your doorstep, he owns up to his terrible mistakes.

you are in love; mick schumacher (*)

ideally written as a follow up to fearless. y/n and mick finally spend their first night together and it’s everything they expected it to be and more.

delicate; charles leclerc ($)

a reckless y/n needs a delicate soul to keep her and her reputation grounded.

gorgeous; lewis hamilton (*)

y/n’s boyfriend is arguably one of the worst men on the planet. so, she decides to hook up with a pretty boy she meets in a club.

king of my heart; carlos sainz jr

an independent, solo riding y/n ends up changing everything she ever believed about love when she meets somebody willing to fix her broken pieces.

lover; mick schumacher

dancing round the kitchen with your new husband, realising this is the only life you could ever want.

cruel summer; daniel ricciardo ($)

y/n falls for her brothers best friend after a summer of sex, sun and alcohol & she can’t keep quiet any longer.

paper rings; daniel ricciardo

although he’s a millionaire, you admit you’d marry daniel even if he proposed with a paper ring because you love him that much.

illicit affairs; lewis hamilton (*, >)

the age gap was never going to work, and when lewis tries to break up with you, you (unpolitely) decline his offer.

invisible string; mick schumacher

on a sunday afternoon walk with your children, you realise all roads lead back to mick.

champagne problems; lance stroll (>)

y/n breaks lance’s heart when she declines his proposal, but she knows deep down marriage simply isn’t for her.

maroon; carlos sainz jr (*)

drinking red wine and getting drunk in your flat with your ex boyfriend leads to bad decisions.

question...?; pierre gasly (>)

you have a lot of questions about pierre’s recent activities, and he has no answers.

karma; charles leclerc

your ex boyfriend always told you that nobody would ever love you the way he could, but karma is your boyfriend now.

markers:

$ = suggestive

(anything varying between first to third base, without penetrative sex)

* = smut

(anything from third base to penetrative sex)

> = angst

[usmsgutterson]

paper rings- weddings!! give me a character. a rough word count (10k is the most I’m willing to write, but if you want the fic to be a longer one, specifics are heavily recommended) and where you would want to get married if you were to get married! You can also tell me if you want it to be next level angst or to have the fluff scale turned up to eleven. Provide whatever specifics you want, and along with the fic, you’ll get a moodboard! You can mention if you want the moodboard to replace whatever gif I use as a fic header, but if you want it at the bottom of the fic and for me to include the gif anyway, just let me know!

okayyyy nikolai lantsov andd 1-2k? i've always dreamed of having a forest fairytale type wedding. like the fairy lights, and the green and borwn color schemes. and very intimate, only closeee friends and family (which is still a lot of family on my side but shhhh) fluff scale turned up to 11 plsss! the moodboard, i'm fine either way whatever is easiest<3

Our Forever/Our Eternity- Nikolai Lantsov x fem! reader

Okay, hi! I am so sorry that this coming out so late--I’d started second semester when I went to look at my inbox and having to do assignments on the daily is taking me closer and closer to academic burn out one step at a time. This is coming out on valentines though, so yay! I hope you like this one. The moodboard also came out in the form of a collage, which again, I hope is cool! I made it while tired out of my mind last night and a collage is what my tiredbrain was able to manage at that point lol.

fic type- fluff. 

Warnings- mentions of the consumption of alcohol (wine and champagne, and vodka/kvas) 

You and Nikolai had been dating since you were sixteen, having met by pure happenstance whilst you both worked in the First Army. You were at his side as his partner when he’d met Alina, fought with him as his partner and his confidante in the Ravkan Civil war. 

When he’d proposed at the age of twenty-three, just at the beginning of his kingship, you were overjoyed, and so, it seemed, was he. 

The next year and a half were spent with wedding preparations at the forefront of nearly everyones focuses, though especially Genyas, yours, and Nikolais. 

A fairytale esque wedding was the theme you’d agreed upon, and it was just to your luck that a decent clearing with a couple of large trees was amongst the Little Palaces acreage. 

Genya had said that it was to be the perfect spot for a wedding, and a year and a half later, as you listened to Alina and Zoyas conversation and Genya tailored a bit of powder onto your eyes to give them a pop of color, you had to agree. 

You’d decorated it with a few good tables, chairs painted a deep brown the color of wood, the tablecloths a darker version of leafy green. The centerpieces had been your favorite flowers, encased in small glass display containers that would’ve been used for something like a cupcake display in a bakery, and the tree under which you were going to get married had been laid with lights, making it look like the branches were dripping in stars. 

You’d done your wedding a bit differently to the societal expectations placed onto Nikolais shoulders. It wasn’t public, it wasn’t to occur in the Little Palace and there were no journalists, no reporters or anyone who’s only purpose of attending would be to get the scoop on the happenings of that day. 

You’d only invited the people who’d mattered to you both, those whom you considered family. Tolya, Mal and David were Nikolais groomsmen. Genya, Tamar, Nadia, Alina and Zoya were your bridesmaids. 

Alina and Mal had come along, though Alina had been wearing a wig so that nobody looked at her and immediately knew that she’d been the sun saint, the one who’d been martyred three years before. 

Alina laughed as a breeze picked up and ruined some of the work that Genya had done with your hair, meeting your gaze with a grin. 

“Early summer is a wonderful time of year, isn’t it?” You asked, laugh befalling your lips as Genya gave an exasperated sigh. “There’s a breeze, yeah, but at least it’s warm.”

“Nikolai is just going to faint when he sees you,” Nadia said with a grin. “Oh, the king will faint indeed.”

“Tolya will have to catch him,” Tamar agreed, laugh coming up as she took a sip of her champagne. “It’ll be quite the glorious thing, and no reporters here to tell the tale means that our beloved king and his precious ego will be saved from embarrassment.” 

“He’ll do more than faint,” Zoya said. “He’s never cried a day in his life, I’m sure, but he will. He’ll be crying tears of joy. Men are astonished by beauty, and you look ravishing, so it’s practically par for the course.” 

You took a sip of your champagne as Genya announced that she was done with your hair, peeking out from behind the tree that you’d stood behind, one far enough away from guests and Nikolai to avoid being heard or seen.  

“The king has descended down the aisle,” she said. “Oh, he is going to lose it. I’m so excited!” 

You finished off your champagne as Genya and David walked down the aisle, followed by Zoya with Tolya, Alina and Mal, Tamar and Nadia together. 

You watched, head ducked out from the spot where you stood, as David whispered something to Nikolai and his eyes promptly closed, anticipatory grin spreading across his face. You scoffed, grin coming to yours as well. 

Of course David had listened to Genyas suggestion that he ask Nikolai to close his eyes so as to not see you until you’d walked down the aisle. Photographers were around, and she probably thought it would make for an interesting set of photos. David, as her husband, would’ve agreed, as would you have, as you knew she was probably right. 

Your father walked you down the aisle, and when you reached out, resting either of your arms on Nikolais shoulders and allowing your hands to entwine themselves behind his neck, his eyes opened.

He looked shocked in one moment, mesmerized in the next.

“You look--” Nikolai began, cutting himself off. He laughed after a moment. “It seems I am unable to find the words. You look indescribably beautiful.” 

You grinned. “You clean up nicely, Mr. Lantsov.”

“The same can be said of you, soon to be Mrs.” 

You grinned, rolled your eyes, as the officiant began.

“We are gathered here today for the union of his majesty the king, Nikolai Lantsov, and her majesty the Queen, Y/N L/N,” you’d gotten that part sorted in the weeks prior. You’d been declared queen before the wedding at a small coronation that the public was only made aware of in the days after it’d occurred, so as to pretty much just get the process out of the way. 

“It is my belief that the couple has written their own vows?” You both glanced at the officiant, giving him a slight nod. “Well then, King Nikolai, I’ll allow you to read yours first.” 

Nikolai shot you a smirk, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him lovingly. He’d always been the flirtatious type, and you considered it luck that those flirts had always seemed to be tossed in your direction. 

Nikolai wasn’t just a flirt, though. He was a caring, compassionate, smart and wonderful guy. He was someone you’d met while serving your time in the First Army, someone who you’d seen act in the bravest manner and only in the interest of saving the lives of those around him. He’d managed to sweep you off your feet somewhere in all of the noise, and when he became Sturmhond, you joined him once you’d convinced your commander to release you on honorable discharge so that you could. 

As you stood in front of him, arms around his shoulders, you found that you didn’t regret it. Not a minute. 

“I have loved you since we worked in the infantry department together,” Nikolai said. “I fell in love with you whilst we were in the ranks of the First Army, and, eight years after I joined up, I can say that I have not felt regret over it for a moment. I love you more than words can express, really, and I’m looking forward to proving it to you with my actions. I cannot wait to get to wake up next to you everyday for the rest of my life.”

He paused, closing his eyes for a moment, and you realized that Zoya may have been right. Nikolai may actually have started crying, or have gotten closer to it. 

“Forever has always felt like such a long time,” Nikolai continued. “It still does, usually, but it’s time that I get to spend with you at my side, so I can’t wait for our forever to start.” 

The officiant grinned. “Y/N, you may read your vows in response.” 

“I love you,” you began. “I used to think that I would never get so lucky as I have. I was sent into the First Army, and as most do, I figured I was doomed. I’m delighted that I wasn’t, and though the First Army, the mandatory service, is not something that I look back on fondly, I’m glad I met you from it. I’m glad that I’ve spent almost a decade at your side, and I’m looking forward to all the decades to come.”

“I’m looking forward to coffee on Sundays, to watching the sun go down and drinking kvas as we talk about how lucky we both feel, and I am really excited that I get to be married to you for our eternity. I have loved you as long as I have known you, and I am looking forward to getting to spend the rest of my days loving you even still.” 

The rings were brought out, and you noticed a tear slip down Nikolais cheek as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You slipped his ring onto his, wiped the tear away and gave him a grin as you registered that you were close to crying as well. 

It was your wedding, though. One of the happiest days of your life. People would forgive you if you cried a bit. 

“Nikolai Lantsov, do you promise to love Y/N L/N for the rest of your days, in sickness and in health, in rich and in poor?”

“I do,” Nikolai looked at you, and you looked at him, and all that either of you noticed in that moment was the sheer love in the other persons gaze.

“Y/N L/N, do you promise to love Nikolai Lantsov for the rest of your days, in sickness and in health, in rich and in poor?” 

“I do.” 

“Well then, the bride and groom may kiss to seal this union,” the officiant said.

And so, you did, a tear slipping down your cheek as Nikolais lips were on yours and you were officially his wife, he was officially your husband. You were so happy, it was more than words could ever accurately describe.

Nikolai pulled away, grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, and just like that, the party had started, the violins picking up with an old Ravkan dancing tune. 

You spent the night dancing, laughing, drinking and enjoying the night for all that it was. You were married to the love of your life, and you were sure you would be so happy as you’d been that day for the rest of the days in which you graced the earth. 

When all the guests had left, most of them retiring into their rooms after midnight, when all of the celebrations had been had, the good wine and kvas drank, the dancing done, you were still out there.

It was a group of people, actually. It’d been you, Nikolai, Genya, David, Tolya, Tamar, Nadia, Zoya, Alina and Mal. The violinist was still playing because they’d not yet retired to their own room. They were playing a slow song, and like it was habitual, you all paired off and danced.

Nikolai held you close, arms around your waist where yours were resting on either of his shoulders. You were dancing under the tree where you’d gotten married, and the lights were still on. As you registered the flit of a camera, knowing that the photographers had long gone home, you scoffed.

“Need something for the photo album, Tolya?”

“A few somethings,” he said. “These’ll look good framed, and Zoya most certainly agrees with me.”

“She does,” Zoya piped up. “As does Genya, who anticipated this happening and thought that the disposable was a good idea. You’re welcome, lovebirds.” 

You and Nikolai laughed. “Thank you, guys.”

“We’re glad that you finally tied the knot, Nik,” Tamar said. “Seriously. Tolya and Nadia were beginning to debate placing bets.”

“Who would’ve won?”

“Me,” Tolya said. “A good man does not wait for the perfect time, in accordance to my sonnets. He either creates it or finds it in a day that is seemingly mundane.”

You scoffed. “It was not mundane, Yul-Bataar. He proposed to me when the sun was setting. We were by the lakes.” 

“Mundane enough,” Nikolai said. “And perfect enough, after having tried to find the right time for three years.”

“You took my point, you took my compliment, and you unraveled it,” Tolya said, scoffing. “You’re a drunken buffoon.”

“I’m not drunk,” Nikolai said. “I’ve been too busy dancing with my wife to bother with it.”

“Ah, so you’re just a buffoon, then?” Genya asked. “Makes sense.” 

Nikolai scoffed, meeting your gaze. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you said. “It’s getting late, and cold. Let’s head back inside.”

“Early start tomorrow,” David said.

“I will have Tamar cut my tongue out with one of her beloved axes before I rise at any time within the three hours after sunrise tomorrow morning,” Nikolai said as the group began the walk back. You heard the violin music stop, the violinist packing up as you left. 

You grinned as you took Nikolais hand and interlaced your fingers. 

You’d married the love of your life. You were so happy in what was just the start of your forever with him, and he was so happy in the start of his eternity with you. 

[waittheydontloveyou]

Brain Dump

I started my adhd meds again for the first time in 2 years and my brain is like hey. We got a lot of thinking to do so here you go. My current fixation as I sit on the bed telling myself to clean and wash my damn sheets im covered in.

——-

Me: I just feel so ugly

Him: you are beautiful and good. You just have one defect and you know what it is. (I’m kind of a ho who lies when I think imma be in trouble😩)

Me: you too. You are handsome and good. You just have one defect and you know what it is. (He’s insecure and jealous)

Him: do you want to marry me?

Me: yes

Him: ok good

Me: ok…😍😂 wtf, Alej

———

I think we are both broken children just trying to make it through life and it’s sad and ugly sometimes. But a lot of times it’s really passionate and beautiful.

I don’t know why I’m posting this. This isn’t new news. We’ve talked about marriage before. I’m there. He’s there. I have a ring. he called it a pre engagement ring. And I’m like so a promise ring? And he’s like no. PRE! Lol. but it’s NOT an engagement ring. I don’t care but he does.

Speaking of. He’s more traditional than I’m willing to ever be again. I will never cook every single night. I will never commit to do things like that on a forever basis again. Sometimes I’m scared he will be disappointed in that. But I haven’t faked it these past 2 years. He’s gotta know exactly what he’s getting with me.

It’s just challenging because he’s an immigrant who still has a wife in Mexico. They married super young. they’ve been separated 25 years. She lives with her ‘fiance’/boyfriend etc. but she refuses to sign the divorce papers. Every few months she dangles signing the divorce papers in front of him, asks for money, he pays her, she disappears til the next time she needs money. Currently she’s saying she will sign the papers and he’s just done being used. I keep thinking maybe she means it this time. But he knows her better. He wants to go back to Mexico to sort it out but *I* don’t want him to bc it’s so fucking dangerous coming back. He’s got 3 kids and his mom here. Please don’t leave me to care for them all if you die. Lands alive.

That’s another obstacle. The mom doesn’t want to live with me. SAME😳 but I’d at least attempt it for the good of the whole family. She said absolutely not. He said absolutely not. She wants/needs her own place when me and him get married. Have you seen rent now a days? How will we afford a place for 5 kids, and then at least 2 bedrooms for her? (For when she has his girls). Lol. He doesn’t seem concerned about this part, but I am.

I have an evil ex who put in the child custody agreement that I’m not allowed to live with a significant other unless we are married 🙄bc yes let’s do this again. otherwise I wouldn’t care so much. Like we are two years in. I’d rather just live together. Test the waters. and fuck marriage prior to that just bc of how bad it’s been in my history. But I do see myself being with him forever. So it’s fine. Whatever. Except we can’t bc his ‘ex’. Brah

I just feel chatty and already talked his ear off🙈

I texted every girlfriend I know and they’ve all stopped responding bc I’m talking too much. Send help

[sitp-recs]

Dear Liv, first of all thank you for your contributions to his fandom, I’ve found and loved so many wonderful fics thanks to you!

After reading SG’s Turn, I’d love to read more epilogue compliant Drarry fics, preferably mature or explicit, but I don’t know where to start. I was wondering if you had any favorite epilogue compliant fics to rec? Sorry if you’ve already answered a similar ask. Tysm!!

Hi anon! I feel like I haven’t contributed much to fandom lately but thank you, that’s very sweet 😘 I’m a bit picky about epilogue-compliant bc I don’t really care for het ships or kid fics and many of them involve infidelity which is not my usual jam (but I’m willing make an exception for Frayach’s brilliant Breaking All the Rules).

I listed below some recs with divorced Drarry and would suggest checking this epilogue-compliant compilation by @gameofdrarry and maybe take a look at authors like Lomonaaeren and Gracerene, they’ve written a few epilogue-compliant stories. Enjoy!

A Song, Incomplete by RurouniHime (E, 11k)

Draco’s photograph took up the entire top half of the Prophet’s front page. Below the photo: DRACO MALFOY DEFENDS SON OF FORMER LOVER. As if that were breaking news.

The Weight of a Wanting Heart by Femme (E, 12k)

After nearly two decades hidden away in the Wiltshire countryside, Draco Malfoy’s surprised to see a familiar face come into his local.

Lost and Found by rillalicious (M, 16k)

Hermione is an auditor for the Ministry. When she comes across an intriguing case with a familiar name, she turns to her favorite Auror for help.

Written in the Stars by November Snowflake (M, 16k)

Draco watches as his son grows up--and maybe does a little growing up of his own.

Once Upon A Time, Yesterday by Femme (E, 22k)

"You've always been obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. That should probably tell you something."

Dating for Dads in Denial by @aibidil (T, 25k)

In which one wizard designs and another reluctantly patronises a magical matchmaking service, amidst the chaos of children and parenting.

Homecoming by November Snowflake (E, 27k)

Harry thinks spending two weeks as a guest lecturer at Hogwarts will offer the perfect chance to get away from his troubles. Then he meets his assigned faculty guide: Potions Master Draco Malfoy.

Time is a Construct series by @gracerene (E, 29k)

Draco's in a bit of a rut. He's nearing forty, divorced, and he still can't figure out how to make his Time Turner reconstruction work. He's bored, he can admit it, so he's not nearly as concerned as he should be when his pet project malfunctions and sends him twenty years into the past. That is, until he ends up relying on a nineteen-year-old Harry Potter for help and starts developing some very inconvenient—and possibly reciprocated—feelings.

Paper Rings by @lettersbyelise (E, 50k)

When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

2020, 2021 by newleaves (M, 64k)

Harry’s going through a divorce. It’s a love story, really.

When Times are Dire by @aibidil (E, 130k)

Magical Britain is screwed, and it's once again up to Harry to save it. This time, by marrying Draco Malfoy.

This Ain't the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424 (E, 131k)

In 2020, Hit Wizard Harry is starting to enjoy his life. He’s divorced, and no longer Head Auror. His biggest project these days is trying to remodel 12 Grimmauld Place for him and the kids. Draco Malfoy is recovering from his wife’s death. But is happy with his Ministry position as Temporary Head of the Department of Intoxicating Substances, and with his son who he adores. This all changes quickly when Minister Shacklebolt decides not to run for another term.

[ambrossart]

Paper Men Writing Update + Patrick Teaser

Hi!

As most of you know, I'm REALLY STRUGGLING with this next chapter. I actually had a good, long cry about it the other day. And it's not because I feel pressure to get it done (you all are the most patient, awesome people and I know you're willing to wait). I just get really frustrated when I lose my confidence and my voice, and I feel like that's what's happening now. I'm second-guessing everything and it's showing in my writing.

I know this is only temporary. I know I'll figure everything out eventually. I just needed to vent for a second.

Anyway, 29 is not done yet (sorry). I honestly don't know when I'll be completely happy with it, but in the meantime...

Here's a teeny tiny Patrick teaser. If you haven't read the first preview, I highly suggest you do; otherwise, you might be confused.

How did I get here? Evelyn wondered. How did I go from sitting beneath the stars with Victor Criss, from watching him point out all his favorite constellations and trying to commit them all to memory, from gazing into his eyes, seeing the reflections of so many stars, and thinking, This is it. These are the only eyes I’ll ever wanna get lost in… How did I go from that, from such simple, unwavering certainty, to 

this?

Evelyn was sitting on the floor of the science lab now, curled up and cowering in the shadow of the assigned lab table that she shared with Mallory Stone. (We have a reading assignment due tomorrow, don’t we? Yeah, I think so…) Foggy as her memory was, Evelyn could hardly recall how she had arrived there. She remembered, vaguely, wanting to go to the restroom. Wanting to wash and scrub all the makeup off her face. Wanting to claw the curls out of her hair and smooth it out just as it was before. She remembered wanting this so badly that her feet started moving by themselves, slowly, wobbly, as if she was sleepwalking or lost in some drug-induced stupor. Evelyn only made a few steps before she heard… something. A soft, feminine clicking sound. Heels, yes, that’s what it was. Mrs. Lafferty’s heels. She was finally returning from her smoke break and mumbling about having to wait around for a tow truck. Someone had taken the air out of her tires (Henry Bowers, she falsely suspected), but Evelyn wouldn’t learn this until three days later, when Mrs. Lafferty stopped her in the hallway and asked if she was okay.

“You left so suddenly the other day, I thought there was some sort of emergency.”

“Oh, no,” Evelyn said stiffly, too stiffly. She had to remind herself to smile. “No, I just had to get home, that’s all.”

She couldn’t bear to let Mrs. Lafferty see her like that, to let anybody see her like that. When Evelyn heard those footsteps coming down the hallway, she sprang into a blind panic. She started twisting and pulling, twisting and pulling on doorknobs, praying that one of them, please God one of them, would show her some mercy and open. Out of the six doors she tried only one was unlocked. One. Desperate as she was, Evelyn never bothered to question why. She slipped inside the darkened lab, comforted by its silence and emptiness (or so she thought then), and found safety within its sturdy, familiar walls. 

Evelyn licked her lip again. Her blood tasted salty, metallic, and slightly sweet. 

I never should’ve gone to the library that day. If I hadn’t then maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. Maybe I’d be off studying somewhere with Jake, and blushing when he pulled his chair closer to mine. Maybe he’d ask me out. Maybe I’d say yes. Then we’d be dating and I’d become the First Lady of the Student Council. (That does have a nice ring to it…) We’d date all through college, probably get married after I graduate, then we’d have some kids, get a dog, and—boom!—there’s your Christmas card, Hannah. I’d have a lovely, perfect life.

Why didn’t that sound more appealing to her?

Because I’m stupid, she thought. Because I just had to go to the library that day. 

She went there to type up her summer essay, and when she came out—

It didn’t mean anything, Evelyn.

No, it didn’t. She saw that now. 

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t special. Henry didn’t kiss me because he liked me. He kissed me because he could. Because he felt like it. Because my feelings don’t matter to him. They never have. 

Evelyn felt her eyes begin to water, but she did not cry. She would not cry, not over him. 

You need to stop, she told herself. You need to stop pushing. You need to stop forcing. You need to stop chasing after people who don’t want you. It always ended the same: with her feeling hurt, angry, embarrassed, disappointed, and so very tired.

Evelyn leaned back and felt a gentle warmth kiss the side of her face. At last, the sun was finally setting on this horrible day. It dipped beneath the half-pulled blinds, poured into the room, and painted the floor a burnt, bitter orange. The color reminded her, strangely, of fire.   

I’m done, she thought, and this decision didn’t come easily. Evelyn had to reach deep inside her heart, breaking through layers of thick bone and protective tissue, in order to find this tiny… seedling. Yeah, that seemed like the best comparison. A tiny seedling like the one she had in Mr. Wallander’s eighth-grade agriculture class. (Henry let me copy…) Evelyn’s seedling was supposed to grow and blossom into this beautiful, colorful flower, but it never did. It just shriveled up and died. And Evelyn didn’t know if it was her fault, if she had watered it too little, or too much, or if it was just a bad seed right out of the package. It didn’t matter anymore. It was dead. Now Evelyn had to dig out, rip it out from the ground, and throw it into the—

Mr. Beecroft’s chair groaned against the floor. Someone else was in the room.   

Evelyn stifled a gasp with her hands and ducked down, dropping her head into her shoulders. Her brown eyes bulged with fright. The door was unlocked. Oh my god, the door was unlocked!

Footsteps emerged from behind the teacher’s desk. Closer. Closer. These weren’t the quick, delicate steps that Evelyn had heard in the hallway. These were heavier and unhurried. They crept forward with a slow draaaag and clump, draaaag and clump. 

Closer. 

Clump. 

Closer. 

Clump.

The footsteps stopped behind her, on the other side of the table, and now the temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees. Evelyn’s bones froze with her next breath. She stayed quiet, listening, and heard the slow pull and push of respiration. But it wasn’t her own she heard. No, this was coming from over her right shoulder. Evelyn turned her head towards it, lifted her chin, and saw

(the Cheshire Cat)

the slow-blinking, heavy-lidded eyes of Patrick Hockstetter. 

His face broke into a soft, sleepy grin. “Hey,” he said, “it is you… I thought I was still dreaming for a second.” 

Dreaming? Evelyn thought. What do you dream about, Patrick?

[ariel-seagull-wings]

FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: WINSTON ZEDDEMORE

@spengnitzed​ @bixiebeet​ @angelixgutz​ @themousefromfantasyland​ @amalthea9​ @thealmightyemprex​ @goodanswerfoxmonster​ @stantzed​

@the-blue-fairie​

Favorite Thing About Them: I like that fact that while he is meant to be an audience surrogate, at least in the first movie this was not used as an excuse to make him boring, but instead he felt like a real person with motivations and a personality: he is a down on his luck working class man who is intrigued by this booming Ghostbusters business who decides to become a new team member in search of a good job to survive, quickly believes what he sees and learns how to handle the new technology, becomes good friends with the other Ghostbusters, specially Ray, and starts to make reflexions about his faith as a christian the more he comes into contact with supernatural incidents, wich is a source of strenght and confidence when he goes to face Gozer and thinks that he may die at any moment.

Later, in the animated series The Real Ghostbusters and the IDW licensed comics, we learned new aspects of Winston’s character that made him a more palpable person: He loves baseball, is a huge enthusiast of mystery novels to the point that this becomes an advantage when he needs to investigate a new ghost activity, would sometimes go to save the day on his own, and even fell in love and got married!

Least Favorite Thing About Them: The fact that his role was reduced to “pawn that is there” when the sequel Ghostbusters 2 was made, rather than the writers taking advantage of making a sequel to further develop his character.

Three Things I Have In Common With Them:

* I have black heritage;

* I am curious;

* I also resource to fictional literature for information;

Three Things I Don’t Have In Common With Them:

* Unlike many portrayals of his character, I never did military service;

* I’m not US american;

* I would be way more pedantic in differentiate between a summerian and a babylonian deity;

Favorite Line:

From the July 1983 Script Draft:

“I’d like to see Dr. Venkman.”

“I saw your ad in the paper. You know, for a security man.”

“... after ECM school at Kelly Air Force Base in Texas I flew for S.A.C Command at Reese as an Electronic Warfare Officer. After the service I was head of Installations for Sentry Alarm Systems in Los Angeles, then I moved up to V.P. at their Pacific headquarters. Then some partners and I started our own optic beam manufacturing operation, but we got wiped out in the microlens flood of ‘82.”

“I have a ninth degree black belt in Wing Chun boxing. I have a Class 3 Federal firearm’s license and I have permits to carry anywhere in the continental United States. What kind of risk are you talking about?”

“Brave man.”

“Okay, now you could have three aces because you already had two and you got one out of your sleeve. But I’m not sure which card you took out of your shoe before.”

“I’m willing to take your word on this, Ray, because I respect you. But if we ever really do see the kind of stuff you’re talking about, I’m counting on you. I know these guys are your friends, but...”

“This bites it, man. We’re running out of ways to kill time.”

“Zeddemore. Z-E-D-D-E-”

“What’d you get?”

 “You guys look like shit.”

“Forget it, man! The phone’s been ringing off the hook.”

“Neutronize. System shut.”

“I have to get some sleep, man. I worked all night last night.”

“I can’t look anymore. It’s too depressing. What are they doing here anyway? I tought when you die you see a beautifull white light and pass trough it to the other side.”

“What’s the Tunguska Blast?”

“Sounds like the Russians detonated a hydrogen bomb.”

“I don’t believe we drove all the way up here and didn’t get anything.”

“You made a contact? Why didn’t you call me? What was it?”

“That figures. The head Ranger thinks it’s the spirit of a girl who was kept by the officers back in the 1830′s or 40′s.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Must be a big fire, huh?”

“Look at that weird light by the river.”

“Oh... shiiit...”

“I’m Winston Zeddemore, your Honor. I came to work with these gentlemen when they first went into private practice... and I didn’t believe any of this either. I’m a highly trained engineer. I’ve done two hitches as a flying officer in the strategic Air Command. I’ve been all over the world and I’ve seen lots of strange things, so I can tell you with complete confidence that these ocurrences are real. Since I joined these men I have seen shit that would turn you white.”

From the September 1983 Script Draft: 

“Let me ask you something. The ad in the paper just said "Help Wanted." What's the job?”

“Not really. However, if there's a semi-regular paycheck in it I'll believe anything you say.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Now tell me 89/89a Omitted what you really do.”

“Hey man. What is it you're so involved with there?”

“Busy time of year.”

“Right. We'll believe anything.”

“We're gonna get five years for this. Plus they're gonna make us retrap all those spooks. I knew I shouldn't have taken this job.”

“This is insane! You actually believe Lhat some moldy Babylonian God is going to drop in at 78th and Central Park West and start tearing up the city?”

“Maybe we should go downstairs and call first?”

“Well, she's not here. Let's go.”

“Let's get out of here!”

“Now he's mad.”

“He looks like my high school principal.”

“You should've said "yes!" He might have been willing to negotiate.”

“We did it! Thank God!”

“Good. Now we made him mad.”

From the 1984 Final Film Script:

“Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say, "Yes!"”

“And we have the tools. We have the talent!”

“My mind is totally blank.”

“What did you do, Ray? Aw, shit!”

“This job is definitely not worth another eleven-five a year.”

“I'm all right. You all right?”

“I love this town! Ha ha!”

brOTP: Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, Janine Melnitz, Dana Barrett, Louis Tully, Walter Peck, Slimer, Buster, the siblings Megan and Kenny Carter, Alan, Elaine Phermon, Louise, Cyntia Crawford, DyTyllio, Bryan Welsh, Jenny Moran, Dani Shpak, Lou Kamaka, Melanie Ortiz, Kylie Griffin, Eduardo Rivera, Garrett Miller, Roland Jackson, Marie Laveau.

OTP: Ray Stantz, Tiyah Clarke, @spengnitzed OC Regina.

nOTP: Tiamat.

Random Headcanon: His parents camed from Lansing, Michigan, while Winston and his siblings (two brothers and three sisters) are born and growed up in the Bronx, New York City.

Unpopular Opinion: I find the IDW comics arc where the villain Tiamat (a sibling of Gozer) erases the memory of Winston’s marriage to his wife Tiyah Clarke of everybody except him unecessarily cruel, and prefer to ignore this event happened in favour of imagining they are still together and happy.

Songs I Associate With Them:

Summertime

Não Tenho Medo da Morte

Se eu Quiser Falar com Deus

Never Giving Up

Have a Little Faith in Me

Favorite Picture of Them:

Ernie Hudson in the 1984 movie

In the IDW licensed comics (including a picture of him as a newborn baby alongside his parents)

In the animated series The Real Ghostbusters

In the animated series Extreme Ghostbusters

[bittwitchy]

anyways in honor of eras happening heres my top 13 (in no particular order except you can assume midnights hits too close to home most of the time and i will cry) of taytay bridges that make me scream and feel things;

1: I got tired of waiting, wondering if you were ever coming around. My faith in you was fading when I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said.. Romeo save me, I’ve been feeling so alone, I keep waiting for you but you never come, is this in my head, I don’t know what to think, he kneels to the ground and pulls out a ring and says Marry me juliet, you’ll never have to be alone! I love you and that’s all I really know. I talked to your dad go pick out a white dress, it’s a love story, baby just say yes.

2: I’m drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar. Said I’m fine but it wasn’t true, I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you and I snuck in through the garden gates every night that summer just to seal my fate. And I’ll scream for whatever it’s worth, I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

3: Your midas touch on the chevy door, November flush and your flannel cure. This dorm was once a madhouse, I made a joke, “Well it’s made for me.” How evergreen our group of friends, don’t think we’ll say that word again. And soon they’ll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through. One for the money, two for the show, I never was ready so I watch you go. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘til someone’s on their knees and asks you. “She would of made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head” they said. But you’ll find the real thing instead, she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.

4: My heart, my hips, my body, my love. Trying to find a part of me that you didn’t touch, gave up on me like I was a bad drug, now I’m searching for signs in a haunted club! Our songs, our films, united we stand! Our country, I guess it was a lawless land. Quiet my fears with a touch of your hand, papercut stings with my paper thin plans. My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust! Trying to find a part of me you didn’t take up! I gave you so much but it wasn’t enough! But I’ll be alright, it’s just a thousand cuts.

5: We were jetset Bonnie and Clyde, until I switched to the other side, to the other siiiiiide. It’s no surprise I turned you in, cause us traitors never win. I’m in a getaway car, I left you in the motel bar. I put the money in a bag and I stole the key, that was the last time you ever saw me!

6: From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes, I gave my blood sweat and tears for this. I hosted parties and starved my body like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss. The jokes weren’t funny, I took the money, my friends from home don’t know what to say. I looked around in a blood soaked gown and I saw something they can’t take away. Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned everything you lose is a step you take. So make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it, you’ve got no reason to be afraid.

7: Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much, but maybe this thing was a masterpiece until you tore it all up! Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well! And you called me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest, I’m a crumpled up piece of paper lying here cause I remember it all, all, all. They say all’s well that ends well but I’m in a new hell every time you double cross my mind! You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would of been fine, and that made me want to die! The idea you had of me, who was she? A never needy ever lovely jewel who’s shine reflects on you? Not weeping in a party bathroom, some actress asking me what happened, you! That’s what happened, you! You who charmed my dad with self effacing jokes, sipping coffee like you were on a late night show. Then he watched me watch the back door all night willing you would come, and he said it’s supposed to be fun, turning 21. Time won’t fly it’s like I’m paralyzed by it. I’d like to be my old self again, but I’m still trying it. After plaid shirt days and nights where you made me your own, now you mail back my things and I walk home alone. But you keep my old scarf from that very first week, cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me.

8: I want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck, chain ‘round my neck. Not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me, which is more than they can say I. I recall late november holding my breath, slowly I said, you don’t need to save me.. but would you run away with me? Yes.

9: No one wanted to play with me as a little kid, so I’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since.. to make them love me and make it seem effortless. This is the first time I’ve felt the need to confess, and I swear, I’m only cryptic and machiavellian cause I care.

10: I reached for you but you were gone. I knew I had to go back home. You searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had. And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad.

11: I hear the preacher say, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” There’s the silence, there’s my last chance, I stand up with shaky hands all eyes on me.. Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I’m only looking at you. I am not the kind of girl, who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion, but you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl!

12: When I’m with anybody else, it’s so hard to be myself, only you can tell. That I’m only up when you’re not down, don’t wanna fly if you’re still on the ground, it’s like no matter what I do. Well you drive me crazy half the time, the other half I’m only trying to let you know that what I feel is true. And I’m only me, who I wanna be, I’m only me when I’m with you.

13: They say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight scene. And in a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green. Fifty years is a long time holiday house sat quietly on that beach, free of women with madness, the men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me. Who knows if I never showed up what could have been. There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen. I had a marvelous time ruining everything.

Bonus bc it’s not technically a bridge but deserves recognition: I WANNA BRAINWASH YOU INTO LOVING ME FOREVER

[frizzle-tales]

The violin was a surprising welcoming change to her daily routine. Jiyeon never considered herself as musically talented, or even considered ever learning how to play an instrument, and despite how painfully hard it was to learn the violin, Jiyeon was starting to get the basics down, and she even carefully found herself looking forward to her future progress.

Jiyeon paused when she heard Namjoon’s voice, lowering the instrument, as she listened to hear him speak. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jiyeon dismissed, placing the bow back onto the string, however not starting to play as she heard his next question. “I think he would be very disappointed.” She answered his question in a very matter of fact tone, not quite sure if she’s catching on to what Namjoon was trying to imply, or that she just read the tone of his voice wrong. “I just think you could allocate your free time to other activities that would be more worthwhile your time… instead of babysitting me.” Jiyeon shared, realizing that she wouldn’t get more practice at this rate. 

“You have a wedding ring.” Jiyeon noted, stopping herself from making a snarky remark about what kind of person would be willing to date such a vile person, but Jiyeon behaved and instead packed her violin back into its case. “Taehyung never mentioned that you are married…” Not that Taehyung shared anything with her.

-🎙️

"I don't imagine he'd mention much of anything to you, especially anything personal." Namjoon countered, adjusting the watch around his wrist. "I mean, why would he? It's not like you're his partner or wife, hm?"

A buzz came from the man's pocket, and after a brief glance down at the screen, the grin already tugging on his lips stretched further. Although, he didn't say a word, only slipping it back away.

"Not that it's any of your concern." He hummed, standing up from his chair. "But I am married. Third year anniversary is rolling around pretty soon, actually." A chuckle vibrated in his chest as he caught Jiyeon's expression at his news, but that particular amusement didn't last long before the front door opened.

Footsteps echoed through the small hallway before Taehyung appeared at the entrance of the living room, a plastic bag hanging from his arm.

"My, it's so quiet in here." Taehyung mused, plopping the bag down before heading towards the young woman. "I told you not to miss me too much." He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Tell me, were you on your best behaviour like I told you today?"

Before Jiyeon had the chance to pipe up, Namjoon cut in. "What's this? Are you changing career paths on me, Taehyung?"

After a brief moment of confusion, a laugh soon echoed throughout the living room as the murderer’s friend pulled out various objects. Box of hair dye. Scissors. Bowls and gloves. "Not at all, there is a certain someone I’d say who's look needs a little updating, wouldn't you agree?"

If he was being entirely honest, it was annoying seeing Jiyeon's pictures plastered around town. On the news. Front page of the paper. Bus stops and signs. For weeks now, she'd been the center around the mayor's new campaign to catch the city's killer interfering with his re-election.

"But.." Taehyung turned his attention back to the young woman at his side. "I asked you a question, sweetheart. I don't want to be kept waiting much longer."

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Polly's Boys -Orphanage years

1918

Devlin was trying not to rock on his feet and be too suspicious. He waited by his new car trying to look like a man waiting for his wife. He was anxious.

He’d heard through the grapevine and David’s sources that Winter was going to dance and singing classes at a dance hall in Camden.

Twenty minutes from where he lived.

Girls came busting out the side door and through the garden gate pouring into the street. He looked frantically around with his peripheral vision but I couldn’t see her.

“Winter?” He yelled to no one in particular. A girl whipped around and gave him a megawatt smile. He smiled back politely. She was interested in him. She was probably around 5’5. Tan skin, auburn hair pulled into a thick bun at the nap of her neck. Her brown eyes sparked at him.

“She’s lagging behind as per usual. I’d be happy to help if you need anything.” She said sweetly.

He knew she would gladly take Winters’s place but that wasn’t what he wanted. He was into his blonde girl. He’d seen plenty of women over the years, all blonde, short and willing to bed him. He’d paid them and never bothered them again. For him nothing and no one compared to her though.

He had built this meeting up in his head for two year, kissed her, married her and fucked her almost everyday in his mind. He wasn’t interested in this little girl in front of him.

“Nah sweetheart, I’m married. I'm waiting for someone special.” His tone was friendly but clipped as he winked at her. He saw her check his hands but he wore black leather gloves. He just shook his head until she walked away.

Just then the door swung open and a voice he knew well floated through the gate. He turned, feeling like a groom placing eyes at her at the altar. She was walking toward him but she was still answering whoever was by the door and focused on them.

He walked forward to the gate and looked at her.

God, she was more stunning then he remembered. Still short, she probably quit growing at 5’2. He was 6’3. Her hair was short but fashionable. She was a tiny petite little doll. Her uniform wore her, probably a hand me down but she still dazzled him.

“Thank you. I appreciate it so much and I’ll make sure to follow up tomorrow.” She watched the women she’d spoken to walk away and she squealed, holding a little piece of paper. She brought it to her lips and kissed it. He smiled. She was still as excitable and sweet as ever.

“Proud of you.” His voice is low and husky. His heart felt like it would burst from his chest.

She just stood frozen, not even blinking.

“Well, are you ready to go? Thought we'd marry, go eat before I whisk you off to show you our new house.” He showed her the ring in his hand. Her eyes dipped down to and back up to his face. She looked surprised.

“Wha….” I haven't heard from you in almost 3 years….and you think im going ANYWHERE with YOU!” She yelled and looked around the street. People were slowing down to look at both of them.

“Winter,I haven't spent 1 day not thinking about you, creating and planning a life with you, little pest.” He had her held against him now and bent down to kiss her. He’d been angry and surprised when she shoved him causing him to stumble back.

“Yeah, well I hope you continue to enjoy it on your own, Devlin Gray, because I've spent 3 years without you after you abandoned me. Alone in that cold, wet desolate place. I did this for me.” she said, her voice ragged the pain raw and unnerving as she waved the paper in his face. She’d graduated from a music academy. He looked down feeling like a heel.

“Everything I have accomplished in the last three years, three years of Winter, has been for us!” He didn’t care that his voice was raw and jagged too. He just needed her to believe him, believe in him.

“ I don't need you.” Her voice was soft and tears streamed down her chin like a river dropping gently on the paper, the paper which was stained with ink and tears. Her hands were trembling.

“Yeah, well I apparently need you. I Need you. Every fucking night Winter, I laid awake for three years. 3 years awake wishing you were cuddled up next to me. I can’t let you walk away.” He grabbed her arms holding her into place as he kissed her head. He was desperate.

“I missed you too.” He almost missed her confession. She sounded so small and distant.

“ I'm still furious with you.” She looked up at him. Pain riddled her sweet features.

“I’m mad at me too, I get it. But please , please, get in our car baby. I really missed you.” Desperation searing his vocal chords. He thought he was choking with desperation.

“Fine, I’ll go with you. You better not hurt me like this EVER again Devlin, you hear me!”

“Thank you” He kissed her without letting go, walking backwards to the car. He wasn’t letting her get away from him.

_________________________________________________________________________

“You were serious?!” Her eyes were wide as she looked around the church at the waiting priest. He’d meant what he said. He was going to marry her, today apparently.

“I said I was going to marry you.” He sounded annoyed. Of course he meant what he’d said. He reiterated it all in the car.

“Yeah, but I…” He kissed her silent as the priest cleared his throat.

“Not even until death do us part, I’m going to haunt you in death Winter Gray.”

[aucoba]

Some of my fav parts cause I listened to re:Dracula while reading in on paper (I bought the book in Romania, it’s cool like that ) and I genuinely teared up

The fact the sister reassured Mina while keeping Jonathan’s intimacy a secret, saying

« it was not about anything he has done wrong himself […]. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great and terrible things which no mortal can treat of »

She fully says he is a victim and he kept faithful to his lover and it’s so beautiful I don’t know, the man got hurt and she sees it and communicates about it without adding to his hurt, she’s being part of the solution, not the problem, and there are not enough people who do that in life

How Jonathan stays true to himself and to her pleading

« You know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife : there should be no secret, no concealment. […] you know I have had a brain fever and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I do not want to know it […] are you willing, mina, to share my ignorance ? Here is the book, take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me know ; unless indeed, some solemn duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours […] recorded here »

The man truly goes : I’m traumatised and I’d rather never think about these horrible moments ever again, please don’t make me. And while this is true, I also don’t want to take any choice from you so here it is, here I am, here is my wound. I trust you to not kill me with it

The way mina listens to Johnathan plea and takes it in with grace before marrying him and oh, the echo of both of their voices when they say « I will », and mina going

« I shall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me »

´Cause loving someone, anyone, is actually just that, a grave and sweet responsibility, leading her to seal the notebook with a ribbon she wore on her neck (her neck!!!the place Dracula will attack ! The strong and soft place of the body) and her wedding ring, offering the same vulnerability and faith he has showed her

Today's entry of re-dracula was so touching. I love hearing about the gender inequality and all but the way Mina and Johnattan married right after their talk about his journal... This journal is his trauma, all the dark and scary parts of himself, all the hurt and fear that led him to such madness. She is curious about it, she wants to read it, he knows it but can't stand it. And they communicate about it so purely, choosing one another, saying "I trust you and chose to love you with all the hurt I/you carry".

Johnattan told her "I'm truly unwell and I give to you my everything, the most vulnerable part of me in hope you'll treat it with enough kindness and intelligence to take care of the both of us"

And Mina told him "I see your darkness and I understand your needs and I love you, I love you still, I love you in my life and choose to share it with you"

They share so much love I can't

[sourender]

Calling you by my name

Memories from the 15th of January, 2022.

I couldn’t sleep. I vividly remember hearing my heart pound as if I had to rip it out of my chest for it to calm down. Fingers gripping the pen and paper where sentiments were supposed to be written, I watched our son peacefully sleep beside me as the hours passed. I dozed off for a bit before wallowing into the depths of anxiousness. The sun slowly rose and it was yet another beginning. I was to be wedded with the person who redefined the purpose of the provider of light that was floating up in space. The hour was slowly approaching and I willed myself to prepare. All I wanted by then was to get it over and proclaim my love for you in front of the people we cherish. I just wanted to be claimed as yours and call you by the name that is also mine.

The crowd was overwhelming to say the least. My fist curl the rough fabric of my suit, hugging my frame as I shudder with breeze that cradles the leaves to softly land to the ground. This was it, we were finally there.

Seeing everyone walk down the aisle made me realize how grateful I was to have everyone to witness our growth as individuals and as a couple. We really are lucky for we are surrounded with people who genuinely supports us as we traverse into the unknown.

Nobody told me back then that I’d be this in love. I had a conversation from Zorelle, talking about how far we have come. A smile slowly crept as I pride myself for the milestones we have achieved. Despite our tormenting past, we managed to work it out and become the people we desire to love.

My heart immediately melted at the sight of our son with the brightest smile painted on his face as he somewhat knew that this is the event that made his father the happiest he has ever been. The two of you coming into my life is by far the best thing I have ever received.

I was so aware with my breath that the moment you finally walked down the aisle, I knew it had momentarily stop until it slowly went down my throat, welling up all the emotions that threatened to crash. There I was, watching the love of my life approach and meet me. God forbid you run away by then. I won’t let you slip away.

The ceremony finally commenced and the awaited proclamation of vows sweeped in. I pulled out two pages of paper with words in both sides of it. The length took everyone by surprise. I mean, who wouldn’t?

My voice trembled, nervous I’d say something wrong. I held your hands as words spilled out of my mouth, even the things that was not on paper managed to escape. All I could see was you. Only you, eyes locked as my lips only said things out of love.

You shared your own sentiments and all I could do was let the tears run down as I whisper my I love yous. I am indeed one darn lucky bastard who was granted the privilege the loveliest soul.

Sharing our first kiss as the sun slowly set, vibrant hues sprawled across the sky, we sealed our oath to forever with our lips. Everything was perfect. We were simply perfect.

With the reception up next, I fondly gazed at our intertwined hands with the rings that will serve as a reminder that we made a promise. I was in disbelief. Did I really just get married? Did I really just do that? Did I really just kiss you in front of everybody with the biggest grin plastered across my lips after as if I won the lottery? Yes. By then, I realized I’d do it all over again.

We had our laughs and made jokes. I still cry at the speeches our family made for us. The dorky performance your brothers did and the tearjerking speech from mine was simply a great representation of how our dynamics work. We both have fun and have passion. We are best friends and lovers.

I am so glad I have you, Keigo. You are the catalyst to the wonderful events of my life. I still cannot believe I married you even if it has been a year by now. I am in awe with the fact that we have lasted this long and we have many more years to spare.

I wake up every day with you by my side and I simply cannot get enough of it. I am graced with an amazing husband, adorable kids, and a loving home. You supported me throughout the year and I could never ask for more. I’d be greedy by then.

I’d marry you again, Keigo. I want to share the beauty of matrimony with you everyday and remind you how much I love you. Thank you for the best year of my life. I can’t wait to annoy the hell out of everyone as I fill your fingers with shiny rings, even paper ones.

I’d choose every reality where it is possible to be with you. My beloved, you are the only one that matters to me. There is nothing in this universe and lifetime that could ever let me trade a love with you.

Even if the world is unfair, it was fair enough to give me you. You are all that I have now and will have until I die.

I love you, Keigo. I vow to choose you everyday and love you forever.

Forever and always.

Ti amo più di ogni altra cosa.

The happiest day of my life. Getting married with my one and only. Written on the 15th of January, 2023.

[avtrbee]

never

summary: nobara and itadori asks megumi about the biggest fight y/n and gojo ever had

tw: abandonment issues (?)

please feel free to leave comments of criticism! i'd love to hear from you :> enjoy the fic !!

my masterlist

It seemed like the entire Jujutsu High School seemed to freeze in cold when Y/N and Gojo-sensei walked past each other near the training grounds. They were usually attached at the hip in the school as both were teachers and...well, they were married. They looked like lovesick fools on campus, but mainly Gojo sneaking kisses at any chance he got and Y/N silently letting him. No one missed the small smile of fondness on Y/N’s face every time.

“Oi,” whispered Itadori, nudging his shoulder. “Will they be okay? Y/N-sensei’s face looks so cold.”

“Yeah,” agreed Megumi without hesitation. This wasn’t his first experience of seeing a lovers quarrel- they practically raised him after all. He and Tsumiki always had the front row seats on Gojo’s tantrums and Y/N’s stubbornness. “They’ll get over it.”

“Hah?” Nobara poked his shoulder. “You seem pretty confident, Fushiguro.”

“Well, it’s not like this was their worst fight…”

“Huh, I never knew them to fight frequently. They always looked so in love that fighting seemed out of the picture. What was their worst fight like Megumi? Were you there?” asked Itadori.

Oh, he was there. He remembered every second of the week-long fight- the longest it ever lasted. Megumi didn’t even remember what it was about- the laundry? Stress? He really didn’t care about the specifics. From that point, Megumi has seen Y/N and Gojo have little arguments with a few ending up in screaming matches. They were always mindful to scream when he and Tsumiki were out of earshot, but they caught bits and pieces nonetheless. They were always greeted with a sleeping Y/N cuddled up with Gojo on their sofa the next day, anyway.

But this...this was something else. It was serious. It got so bad that Gojo even packed up a suitcase filled with his clothes and slammed their front door, going away from who knows where.

The house felt frozen like it was winter, similar to how Jujutsu Highschool felt now. All three of them looked at the door silently, expecting, praying, that Gojo would come back with a goofy smile calling his actions a prank, making everyone sigh in relief. But a few minutes passed by, and the door still hadn't opened.

It was Tsumiki that broke the deafening silence first. “Will- will you l-leave too, Y/N-san?”

Megumi and Y/N’s heads whipped to the girl. Tsumiki, always the bigger sister, was trying to keep a straight face, quickly wiping away the tears that were falling down her cheeks. There was a smile on her face as if trying to convince everyone that it's okay- it’s okay if Y/N leaves. Just like her mom, just like his dad. Y/N walked three great strides towards his sister and shoved her a little too aggressively to her stomach.

“No.” she croaked. Y/N raised her head to look away from them, presumably to cry. She never liked crying, much more people seeing her cry.

Megumi has always looked at Tsumiki as the older sister she was, always caring for him, fussing around him with a motherlike intent. But the sight of Tsumiki’s arms tightly secured around Y/N’s waist while sobbing into her shirt was the youngest Megumi has ever seen his sister.

He gets it. He does. Megumi might be nine but he was the first to realize that his dad and Tsumiki’s mom were never coming back. He realized this quickly, too. The slam of the door, a parental figure walking past without ever looking back...he and Tsumiki have seen this sight way too many times.

There was anger in his chest, both directed at himself and at Gojo. Did he trust too quickly? It was only two years since Y/N and Gojo took them out of the cramped apartment they called home, two years since he’s been eating take out and home-cooked meals for dinner instead of leftovers of a restaurant, two years since he and Tsumiki hadn’t slept on a thin mattress on the floor. He got too complacent, and this is where it got him.

Megumi’s heart ached, and all he feels is anger- anger towards Gojo for leaving, anger towards Tsumiki for caring, and anger towards Y/N for taking them in and making him trust again. He got too carried away with all the privileges and assurances they showered them with that Megumi didn’t even think it would go away. How stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’ll miss this, he thinks. Megumi will miss coming home to an occasional hot meal that Y/N would cook if she arrived home early. He would miss the weekly shopping trips they would go to- Megumi barely wanted anything, content at staring at the stores and observing Tsumiki and Gojo buy clothes for everyone. Megumi would miss Disneyland- he had only been there once but Gojo saw the excitement in his and Tsumiki’s eyes that he promised he’ll take them there again. He would miss Gojo carrying him out of spite, despite being too tall and holding his hand as they walked to stores despite him acting like he hated every second of it. He’ll miss the way his heart would swell every time an old lady would call them a cute family and the way-

“Megumi.” His head snapped to Y/N whose eyes were red and sad. “You’re crying.”

Megumi lifted his palm to hold his cheek and sure enough, he managed to catch a tear from rolling down his chin. He didn’t even realize he was crying, which made him angrier. He wanted to tear this place he called home for two years apart with one of his dogs, leave and never come back-

From Y/N’s stomach, Tsumiki peaked at him and held out her hand. Y/N placed a comforting hand on her head before giving Megumi a sad smile. It was then Megumi let all of his anger flow through his tears, he was ashamed of even thinking of leaving- Y/N just said she wouldn’t leave them, and he believed her. He felt more tears roll down his cheeks and he let himself wail, scream, and shout for the entire world to hear. He ran like a child to Tsumiki’s hands and to Y/N’s comforting hug and screamed more.

He didn’t know how long they cried together but at the end of the night, they were all tucked in a corner, Tsumiki and Megumi snuggled at Y/N’s sides.

They were comfortable at that, but Y/N insisted on getting up and getting ready for bed. She ushered the both of them to the shower and brushed her teeth with them. There was silence as they did their tasks, exhausted from silently crying and Megumi from throwing a fit with his wails.

It wasn’t until Tsumiki was buttoning the last button of his pajamas when they heard their doorbell ring an absurd amount of times. It didn’t have the intention to stop until someone opened the door.

“I’ll get it,” announced Y/N, her voice croaking from disuse. Megumi remembered watching Y/N figure walk to their doorway, then finally opening the door.

Behind it was Gojo with eyes as red as theirs, holding a bouquet of flowers on one hand and two paper bags on the other. He raised his gifts to them with shaking hands.

Megumi would have laughed at his sight, Gojo had snot coming out of his nose, his eyes were filled with tears, lips trembling. But the fact that Gojo’s blindfold was off, giving an impression that Gojo was serious.

“I-“ Gojo sniffed. “I meant to come back earlier, I didn’t mean it- it’s just the higher-ups gave me a mission to Europe as soon as I closed the door-“ Gojo breathed deeply, eyes darting at the three of them. Behind him was the suitcase he packed, untouched on their doorstep.

“-I teleported, I finished it as soon as I could, and-“

-

“Fushiguro?”

Megumi flinched backward at the sudden sight of Itadori’s hand waving in front of his face. He was suddenly pulled out of his memory, blinking several times to adjust to his new reality. “Sorry, I spaced out…”

“Well?” Nobara prompted, putting her hands on her waist. “What was their biggest fight?”

The expression on her face was similar to those she wore before she threw a fit of impatience. He wasn’t really in a mood to explicitly describe the emotional toll their fight took from all of them, nor was he willing to suddenly open up about his abandonment issues and how a Gojo going out and not coming back until three hours later triggered something in him and Tsumiki. After Y/N hugged Gojo, Megumi remembered racing against Tsumiki towards the white-haired man at their door, each of them clutching one of his legs.

Megumi trusts Itadori and Nobara...he just wasn’t there yet. He’ll tell them someday he thinks, he’ll tell them everything.

Megumi looked at Y/N and Gojo-sensei again and was pleased by what he saw. A small smile graced his face as he pointed towards the couple. “It ended just like that.”

Itadori and Nobara turned their heads towards the direction of the couple. From their position, they could see Gojo clutching a bouquet of flowers while audibly sobbing his apologies while Y/N tackled him into a hug.

[enchantinglyjade]

Milk & Honey - Ch. 23

Austin!Elvis x Black!OC

Masterlist

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Summary: Elvis is trying to come to terms with Honey dating again. Honey isn't too fond of it herself

Warning: NSFW 18+ mild sexual activity, dirty talk, swearing, flirting

Song: Do You Love Me - The Contours

Playlist

-

-Elvis POV-

God damn, this woman is driving me crazy. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I see her everywhere, in everything. I can’t go one minute without thinkin of her and that blonde curly hair. Being near her felt like a little glimpse of heaven, even when she’s mad at me. I’d do sinful things to get a taste of that sweetness, especially if it meant escaping this hell for even a second.

I shake her from my thoughts. Gotta knock this shit off, I got a show comin up soon. Can’t be caught distracted now

I stand in front of the mirror while brushing my teeth. As I bend down to spit, I feel a small arm snake around my waist. Marcella reaches her head around my arm to peek at me through the mirror. “My mom’s wondering when we’re gonna be bringing some grandbabies over to visit her.” She whispers, as she begins to untie my robe.

I rinse the toothbrush off, throwing it over onto a nearby towel. “‘Cella, I just got Charles, can we slow down a sec.” I reply calmly, but feel irritated just looking at her.

She huffs, pulling away to put her hands on her hips. “We’ve been married for how long now, Elvis? You have barely made love to me since the day you put this ring on my finger.” She holds up her hand as if I’d need help realizing which ring she was talkin bout.

I clench my jaw, storming out the bathroom. “I told you, I just ain’t really that type.”

She scoffs, following close behind me. “‘Ain’t that type’? Ain’t that something. It’s cause of her! I’m not as stupid as you think I am.” I sit down on the edge of the bed, rubbing my temple with my hand. Everytime this woman speaks I get a headache. “My father already hasn’t taken the news lightly, so I suggest you finally move on from her to not further upset him.” She crosses her arms, stomping towards the door. I raise my head, just as she opens it. She looks back at me over her shoulder, taking a deep exhale before she speaks. “Look, I’m willing to forget about all this, but I did see a little blue shirt in the window of the boutique downstairs, if you wanna make it up to me. It’s the least you can do after everything.” And with that, she slams the door shut.

Lord, how’d I get myself into this mess.

Later in the day, I get the boys over to talk production, Charles in my bedroom watching TV since I apparently had to watch him for Honey’s…evening talk with an old friend. Things go fine, until I leave the room to grab a cola. On my way back from the fridge, I overhear their conversation.

“Damn she sure is a fine woman though.”

“She’s E.P.’s baby mama if you wanna get in between that.”

“You bet I don’t.”

“The hell you two talkin bout?” The boys go quiet, turning around to look at me, watching as I sit down at the desk in the living room scattered with papers and letters. I scoff at their hesitant faces. “She’s more than just a baby mama.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

I gulp down some of my drink, setting it down frustratedly with a loud clunk. “A good friend.”

“You hear that? She’s a ‘good friend’.”

“Oh, I ain’t got no doubts.”

The boys go back and forth, laughing and clearly having no fear of testing my patience today. “Alright, now all’a’ya put a sock in it, and keep her outta your thoughts ‘fore I have to leave a handprint across your faces.” I glare at each of them in the room, but they only snicker at my attempt to warn them.

Jerry dares to speak up. “Elvis, I’ve known you for years and you never mentioned a- what do you call her? Bumble?” He asks over the edge of his glasses.

“Cause I don’t want to. Now, I need you to go to those shops downstairs and buy a blue shirt in the window.” I say, steering the conversation away from her.

He raises an eyebrow. “Just…a blue shirt? What shirt?”

I rest my elbows on the desk, rubbing my temples roughly. “I don’t know, man. Any fuckin blue shirt you see down there.”

He thinks for a moment, before reluctantly standing from his chair and sliding out the door, following the orders I gave him. Now that that conversation is over, let’s move on to some real business-

“Billy, you said you knew her before right? You got any beans to spill on the whole situation?” Red questions.

I clench my jaw, throwing my head over the back of my chair in annoyance.

“Yeah, he was crazy bout her back in the day. Them two was always sneakin ‘round the cops. He’d even go dancing with her.” He snorts out a laugh until he makes eye contact with me, then his face drops. “Sorry, cous’.”

“See, how come we never heard this?” Joe asks.

“Ain’t easy to talk about.” I respond quietly. “Now can we move on from this topic?”

There’s a knock on the door.

George stands since he’s the closest to the entrance. “Yeah, come on guys. Gotta keep quiet before one of Elvis’ girls shows up.” He taunts with a laugh.

My knuckles turn white, gripping the bottle in my hand. “Girl. I have one.” I demand.

He only chuckles, opening the door to reveal Thomas standing behind it. “Hey, E.P.!” He greets, casually stepping in. He’d been stopping by for the past few days. Ran into him while I was out bringing Marcella shopping down the strip. We had already gotten pretty familiar with each other again before Honey reunited with him. Now I don’t even wanna look at him, just Michael all over again. “I was just wondering if you knew where Honey’s suite was. Supposed to be takin her out, you know.”

The boys amusedly turn to watch my reaction to this. I ain’t gonna give them the satisfaction of blowin up, or actin jealous, or anything childish like that. I have Marcella, and they know that. Ain’t nothin going on between Honey and I. If she wants to date, then-

I guess-

Damnit, it ain’t important right now!

“You know Honey too?” Billy buds in.

Please, Billy. Now ain’t the damn time.

But Thomas smiles at his question. “Yeah! We grew up together, Me, E.P., Honey, and Michael. We all lived in the same town, doin our best to impress her. E.P. and Michael was always fightin over her every time they got the chance. We all had a little crush on her, but I wasn’t bout to get in between them two. Whoo! They was bad.” He chuckles, pointing over towards me. “Glad that’s over.”

I scoff with a smile. “Easy to like the only girl in the whole town.” I add, downplaying incredibly.

Just then, the door knob spins, metal creaking as it opens. Little blonde curls peak through. Honey apologetically smiles as she opens the door further to reveal the rest of her. She has on a red dress, fitting tightly over her body, just like the ones I used to buy for her. Her hair is up, some curls falling over her exposed collarbone and breasts.

The boys laugh at my joke from before, but everyone’s smile disappears upon seeing her. My God, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You sure that was the only reason?” My head snaps back over to Thomas, who’s biting his lip  looking at the exact areas of her body I was. 

“What they got growin in Tupelo?” Sonny whispers with his jaw on the floor.

I could slap each one of ‘em silly right about now.

Her heels clank on the marble floors as she walks over to Thomas. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” She says sweetly.

Thomas stands pathetically quickly. “No, not at all. I was just looking for you actually.”

I can’t watch this no more.

-Honey’s POV-

“So, what are you doin out here with E.P. then? You his stage manager or somethin?”

I chuckle, following beside Thomas as we walk down the strip. “No, no. Just visiting. I used to be a singer too actually.”

His eyes widen. “Really?” He says with a big smile. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”

I force out a nervous laugh. “Oh, no. I don’t do that no more. Haven’t in a long time.”

He smacks his lips. “Tsk, don’t be that way. Once a singer, always a singer. You know what,” He stops in his place to face me. “I saw the perfect place the other day for you to sing for me.”

I cross my arms with a grin, anxiously excited by his offer. “Oh, I’m singin for you now?” I raise a brow.

He smirks at me. “Yeah, I wanna see what you got.” He tilts his head to the side. “Come on. Let’s go.” He offers his arm out to me and I gladly take it, following in the direction of whatever place he has on his mind.

We arrive at a club filled with song, drink clanking, and chattering. It’s very casual in its looks, yet somehow still refined and skilled, like its inhabitants are laid back with their excellence. I recognize tunes like these, the clothes they wear, the gently calloused fingers. These are actual musicians. 

A few customers turn to watch us enter, eyeing my dress as we walk by. I cross my arms around my body, feeling inexperienced and overdressed, as though I was trying to excel in looks where I likely lacked in talent. Great, another place to feel like I don’t belong.

I follow Thomas to two seats in front of the bar, where he orders drinks for us.

“So, you come by Michael at all?” He asks as the bartender sets our drinks down in front of us.

I raise my eyebrows, taking a sip. “Oh lord, he’s crazy.”

He laughs, slapping a hand down on his thigh and stirring his drink in the other. “Well, sounds like you have a crazy story to tell. What happened?” He stares at me with a soft, flirtatious squint that almost leaves me flustered, but not quite.

“Tried to make me a real singer and take me to Chicago with him cuse he thought I’d make him big money, but when I told him I didn’t wanna leave Memphis he got real mad. He started throwin a hissy fit and everythin. Real jealous type.” I scoff, taking another sip. 

Thomas wide eyes me. “Damn.” Is all he manages to say, causing both of us to laugh. Saying it out loud for the first time made me realize just how ridiculous that time of my life really was. Kinda miss it though, in a weird way.

I sigh, turning in my chair towards him. “Yeah, turns out he had a lot more on his mind when we were kids than he let on. Elvis was there to see it all, even fought him too. Shit, you shoulda seen his face when Michael and I-”

I pause.

In the corner of my view lies the door. In from the door walks a man in an obnoxiously bright suit with his infamous crew of men behind him.

Speak of the fucking devil.

I should have known this asshole would pull anything and everything to stop this date from happening, yet here I am, shocked and unprepared.

He yanks off his sunglasses, grazing the room, landing on me with an annoyingly knowing grin. I glare deeply into his face, hoping it would be enough to steer him away and back out the door, but he just keeps treading forward.

He opens his arms, reaching out to place them on the backs of our stools. “Hey! What’re you doin here? Heard this joint was busy, but had I known you two would be here, I’d gone another night.”

Oh, I’m sure he would have. I’d hiss at him if I could!

Thomas smiles, reaching for a handshake. “Hey. No problem E.P. Think you’ll like some of the cats in here anyway.”

No problem? This is a big problem!

I have no doubt that Elvis will stop at nothing to embarrass me in front of Thomas. It’s all he’d do as kids and he’s only become more of a menace with age.

“Hey.” I whisper through my teeth to him. “Who’s watching-”

“Marcella.” He answers, already knowing.

Oh, I don’t like that woman being near my baby so much. For all I know, she could be filling his head with lies.

A loud howl of a voice echoes through the microphone causing all of us to turn to the stage.

“Woo! That man ain’t singin, he’s sangin!” Thomas exclaims.

Elvis matches in enthusiasm. “You think that’s impressive, you should see Beale after the sun go down. Woowee, now that’s somethin. He got himself a nice 4 piece up there though.” The bartender hands him over a drink and he sips from it with a concentrated smile.

Jerry and the others sit at a table behind us, watchin the stage as Elvis works his torturous ways.

The song comes to a close. As the band exits backstage, a man walks on, dressed nicely in a suit, smiling wide for the crowd. ‘Alright, I’m back, remindin’ you once again that it is amatuer night, so any one of you is welcome to take the stage, whether you’re Aretha Frankin or just wish you were. Nah, I’m just playin. But if you got vocals, come up and show the locals! Ha ha!”

Elvis lets out a devious hum and I instantly know what I’m about to have to do.

“Honey ever tell you she used to sing?”

Lord.

My heart immediately starts beating faster. I better start picking out a song now while I have the time.

“Yeah, she did. That’s why we came here. Said she’d sing for me.” Thomas looks me up and down in a very flirtatious way.

“Did she now?” Elvis says deeply, looking down at me in my spot. I could have laughed at how upset this whole situation clearly made him, but I’d have to hold it in for now, I have to think quick. He forces a smile on his face. “Well, I think that settles it. Show em what you got, Bumble.” 

I shake my head. “Oh no, I don’t think so.” Oh, I will, but I need to buy more time to think of a perfect song.

Elvis comes close, resting his arm on the bar right in front of my stool. “Go on stage.” He softly commands. “Wanna hear you sing again.” My chest fills with butterflies. Song. What song! I shake my head anxiously, as he grins, waving his arms in the air to get the attention of the man on stage. “Hey! She’ll sing! Right here!” He yells, so the entire audience can turn to look at me.

The man on stage shouts out a ‘woo!’ as he calls me up. I’m gonna be sick. I slide off my chair, but before I can walk towards the front, Elvis grabs my arm. “You’ll be great. You always are.” He whispers. A small chill runs against the sensitive part of my arm. I look down seeing the small silver band wrapped around his finger, cooling my skin. When I look up, I’m met with my two childhood friends, both of which smirking quite lustfully at me. They both think I’m beautiful, and they both know I’m talented. I know a lot more about music than either of them remembered. This fills me with a sense of confidence, all previous thoughts vanishing from my mind. I know a song.

Elvis takes back his hand, leaning against the bar and nodding me towards the stage.

I’ll show him what he walked away from.

The crowd cheers as I walk towards the stage with my head high. I fling my hair over my shoulder, which is contrasting so nicely against the red dress I chose out today. In this moment, I feel more beautiful than I ever did in my 20’s. Maybe it was maturity, maybe it’s because I know Elvis is looking, whatever it is, it has me feeling ready to take on the world. 

The man hands me the mic, but I lower it to speak to the band. I ask them if they knew the song I had in mind. They smile upon hearing the name, causing me to mirror their smile. “Alright, lay me down somethin.” I say into the mic now, facing the crowd. Elvis tips his head to the side in amusement, not expecting me to react this way.

The guitarist begins the first notes of the song. I speak the beginning lyrics, just like the real singer does.

‘You broke my heart

'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around’

For a moment, my heart bubbles up with fear seeing how everyone’s eyes are on me, but I easily push it away, knowing that I had what it takes to wow them in the way I always dreamed of doing since I was a little girl.

‘And now I'm back

To let you know

I can really shake 'em down’

There was no time to lose now.

I conjure up all those years of practicing, shouting out the next part just like Michael, the church, and Elvis have tried teaching me to do for years, only just now finally succeeding in doing it right and singing with that power I always strived for.

‘Do you love me?

Now do you love me?

Now that I can dance.’

I parade across the stage doing little dances for the audience members in the front row to enjoy, getting a slight high for their positive reactions, which only helps me continue on.

‘Now tell me baby

Do you like it like this

Tell me

Tell me!

Watch me now, hey!’

I grab the mic stand, twirling my hips in big circles in time with the music, watching carefully over my shoulder at my men of interest. I smile when I see I’ve succeeded in entrancing both of them, and then some. There are a lot more things I can get away with doing now than I could in the 50’s and it’s clearly leaving them speechless.

‘(Work, work)

Ah, shake it up, shake it

(Work, work)

Ah, shake 'em, shake 'em down’

I giggle seductively into the microphone, taking a look in the back to make eye contact with Elvis. His face is in a war, deciding whether to smile in amazement or stare me down for dancing in such a provocative way in front of everyone, which only makes my smile widen further.

I'm working hard baby

Well, you're driving me crazy

And don't you get lazy’

I don’t look back at them for the remaining portion of the song, but when I do, I’m met with the most thrilled pair of eyes. The crowd cheers while I catch my breath, but I can barely hear them over the sound of my beating heart that longed to hear every thought that raced through the mind of one man in particular.

Under the shadows of the club, I catch Thomas mouth an ‘ooo’ with an impressed smile, watching as I walk to them.

“God damn, lil mama. Where the hell’d’you learn all’at?” Elvis asks quietly when I sit back down in front of them.

I shrug. “Just kinda felt it in the moment, I guess.” I giggle, but it fades when I make eye contact with him. The way he was looking at me, Lord, I could pounce on him.

“That was real good, Bumble.” He admits earnestly.

I mutter a quiet thank you, as he sits down at the table next to Billy and Jerry.

“Man, that kid of yours gonna be one hell of a musical genius with a mama like her.” Billy says, patting him on the shoulder.

Thomas eyes Billy with scrunched brows. Suddenly, I feel the need to hold my breath, as if that would stop anything bad from happening. He slowly turns back towards me, still in heavy thought. “Charles…is your baby?” Now he looks at me.

My body stills. “I-uh, I figured you seen the news, was alright with everything.” I’m surprised Elvis didn’t tell him the second he got the chance, he knows information like that could ruin my chances. In fact, why didn’t he tell him?

“You and E.P. had a baby together?” He asks again, just to clarify.

My heart drops. “Yeah. But we aren’t together anymore. Is that…okay…?” It obviously was not okay with him, but I didn’t know what else to say.

His eyes widen. He looks around the club, shaking his head, as if desperately searching for a way out. “Yeah, no- I- Listen, Honey. You’re beautiful and all, but I ain’t lookin to get involved with kids right now. And-”

“No! It’s fine. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I’m not mad.”

He makes a reluctant smile at me, but awkwardly stepping off his chair and leaving me there to walk out the front door.

I turn towards the bar, shielding myself away from the rest of the club. A lone tear rolls down my face, but I wipe it away angrily.

God, this is embarrassing. Why am I even crying? I didn’t even really like him, he was just to get back at Elvis. But-...is this how everyone will react? Am I too old to be dating? Will having a kid ruin my chances of finding love again? Will being involved with Elvis make everyone run in fear? Maybe I’m just destined to be alone now. I had one great love affair and that’s all I’ll ever get. I guess most people never even get to experience the love Elvis and I used to have, so I should just be grateful I had it at all.

“You okay, Bumble? Why’d he run off like that?” Elvis asks, taking Thomas’ old chair.

I let out a long, defeated breath. “What do you want?”

“I wanna know that you’re okay.”

I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you happy? Don’t gotta worry about me dating, and you were right, no man even dares to look in my direction, just like you wanted.”

I huff, about to put my old drink to my mouth, but Elvis pulls it from my lips. “Don’t go down that road. Please. I can’t lose you too.” I look into his soft eyes, letting him take the drink from my hand and set it back down on the bar. “But yes, I am very happy.” I scoff out a light chuckle. I hate that he can always make me smile, even when I’m mad at him. He reaches out for my hand. “Come on, let’s get to the car. I’ll bring you back to the hotel.”

I follow him out back, slouching into one of the cars with him.

He sighs. “I really don’t like the idea of raising my boy alongside another man, you know.” He spreads his legs out across the edge of the seat, not scandalously, but welcoming nonetheless.

I cross my arms. I’m not gonna give into my thoughts. “Is that the only reason I’m not allowed to date?”

He scoffs, shaking his head at me and looking out the window. “Ain’t never said you weren’t allowed.” His hand rests on his thigh, patting down on it. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was taunting me over, unless that was my own heat talking.

I lean up in my seat, eyes glossing over him. Thomas or not, it’s supposed to be me teasing him. He’s supposed to be under my spell tonight, not the other way around. I reach behind me to push up the car’s partition, which catches his immediate attention. “So tell me right now, Elvis.” I gently push myself towards him, shimmying up my dress enough that I’m able to straddle his legs. He instinctively grabs my hips to ground me against him as we drive over a bump, which only results in me bouncing in his lap in a tortuous way for the both of us. “Tell me, ‘Honey, I’m perfectly okay seein you with another man.’” I whisper into his ear.

And here I thought all the childish bullshit games stopped after Michael. Guess we still have a little zest left in us.

He lets out a guttural groan, throwing his head back against the seat. “Bumble, don’t start this with me.”

I ghost my lips over his neck, purposely making an effort not to directly touch him. My warm breath glides down his skin, causing his hairs to raise. His grip on me tightens, making my body shiver, wanting so desperately to give in.

Those feelings are never gonna go away no matter how hard I try, there was little to no point in running any longer. I’m sick of pretending like I’m some saint, I wanna know how he really feels.

“Is she as good as me, baby?” It's the first time I’ve reciprocated a nickname for him. He tilts his head back up, looking into my eyes with his dangerously hooded ones. I giggle at his expression, knowing I was teetering over the edge of our respectable boundary. “Do you think about me when you’re with her?” I wouldn’t have had the guts to ask something like this, but I know he does. I know he still thinks of me, because I can’t stop thinking about him. “Do you think about how I used to feel?”

He twitches beneath me, pulling me closer to him. “Shit,” He mutters under his breath. Yeah, he still thinks about me. It takes so much effort not to touch him that I feel on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. “You’re playin a dangerous game and you know it, baby.” He digs his fingers into my thighs, pushing me down into him, but nothing more.

I’m older now, wiser, bolder. If I would have had this same confidence 10 years ago. I would have left him weak to his knees. However, I’ve quickly made a new discovery being with him for just these few weeks. While I’ve grown more assertive, it seems so has he. We have both changed and grown over the past years, but my strength to resist him has not. Instead of surprising him and making him weak with the new me like I thought I’d be able to do, I’m matched with an even more powerful force of lust and seduction than I ever dreamed of him having. As if he wasn’t enough as is, he just keeps getting better.

The car drives over another bump, making my breasts bounce against his chest, while the rest of my body adds pressure to his lap. I crumble into him, allowing myself only to wrap my arms around his neck. He grinds his teeth, closing his eyes to concentrate. 

I shouldn’t give in so easily, but he’s all I have left from my old life, all I have left of my youth. Every time I see him is a reminder of home, a reminder of what should have been.

Just then the car comes to a stop. Before I can get off of him, the door is pried open, shining the blinding garage lights onto us in the otherwise dark car. I quickly push myself off Elvis, exiting the car and giving an apologetic look to Jerry, who thankfully is the one that opened the car door. 

Elvis steps out next to me, straightening himself out. “Jerry, could you see Bumble back to her room, please.” 

Jerry agrees awkwardly, escorting me to the doors. We stay quiet through the hotel lobby, until we get to the privacy of the elevator. “I couldn’t help but notice you still have something going on with E.P, if you don’t mind me asking, cause I don’t dare bother him about it.”

I scoff out a laugh. Was he actually that intimidating to them? I know he’s prone to having a temper, but he’s nothing but a baby around me most the time. Then I remember he’s waiting for an answer. What could I possibly say?

I sigh. “I’ve known him my whole life, Jerry. Shit, I’ve known him longer than his own mama.” Unfortunately, it was true now. “I love him, as a friend, as a lover. I tried to ignore it, but he really does mean the world to me. I only ever wanted him and it should have only been him, but we were too progressive for the times.” I stare blankly into the metal doors of the elevator. “Shoulda been my ring.” I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

The door dings open. 

“Thanks for bringing me up. I got it from here.”

.

.

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