#christ. my partner has been married before.

[owlparliament]

being poly is great and cool except when its not. sighhhhh. for the record when its not cool is when the Insecurities set in, and u get to grapple with wondering if the human u love most in this world feels the same abt u

[nezuscribe]

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you have everything you could have asked for in life. a beautiful home in greenwhich, just far away from london so that you don't have to mingle with city life, but close enough to be surrounded by the ton. a library with all the books you could ask for and a friend you care for dearly. all except for the man of your dreams, who just so happens to be your best friends brother. worst of all, he only sees you as such. his sisters best friend. (bridgerton!au)

warnings: 18+ mdni, gojo doesn't know how to communicate his feelings, slight angst (with comfort), smut, eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, (happy ending)

word count: 17.3k+ (i have no idea how)

note: yes, this is inspired by penelope and colin. yes, i know that colin isn't a viscount. their story is coming out later than expected so i took matters into my own hands. tysm @jadeisthirsting for beta reading! (if you saw this the first time no you didn't, i hope tumblr doesn't glitch out again)

jjk masterlist

You had a great life, as far as it went. 

You were born into a wealthy family, far more wealthy than they deserved to be. You had maids at your beck and call and did not need to worry about the future as long as you acted correctly. You had book upon books, as many as you could dream of, so long as you didn’t bore your mother too much with them. You had any sort of food you could dream of and you had the most caring friend in the world who loved you very much. 

Honestly, what more could a woman ask for?

“I say we move the whole ordeal to Friday, seeing how Satoru is only arriving on Wednesday. But my mother insisted that we keep in on Thursday because the rest of London just couldn’t wait to see my dashing brother…” Lily continued her furious rant as she paced back and forth the vast expanse of your family’s drawing room, shaking her head in clear frustration. 

“And you want it to be a day later…because…?” You sipped quietly on your tea, trying to keep your smile at a minimum. It was hard not to get giggly when Lily’s face got red and her eyes bugged out of her sockets. For such a pretty girl it tended to shift her features whenever she got angry or annoyed. 

“Well, he’s going to be tired!” She stopped her pacing as she stared at you with her mouth a bit open as if it were the most obvious answer, “And whenever Satoru is tired he’s so difficult to deal with. He’s going to want to talk about his travels for at least three days before he’s ready to mingle with the rest of the works!” 

You nodded heavily, showing her that you were completely on her side. 

“Has he written to you?” She asked and then quickly shook her head, despite the fact you were going to answer with a quiet yes to her question. He had written you a few letters, all of them stashed in your vanity as you read over them, each going over his travels, sometimes sending you little knick-knacks he saw. 

“Not the point. What I’m trying to say is that my mother always goes over the limit with how much she welcomes her children. And Satoru for that matter! Christ, he’s twenty-five and unmarried!” 

You wanted to sink into your seat in embarrassment. You were only so much younger and had never had even an interaction with a suitor before. 

Life was great, for the most part. 

As much as you couldn’t complain, there was a small matter at hand that was growing increasingly more alarming the more the years went on. 

For as long as you could remember, you and Lily were set on never getting married. Ever since she read that one Jane Austen book she was hellbent on independence and no men. You tagged along, seeing how that was a better excuse than admitting no man had even asked you to join him to be his partner to dance before.

Lily didn’t seem to care much for this. While she was set on her celibacy pact, she had been approached before. It doesn’t change much, but it did at least show her that somebody wants her. You were either such as a spinster or married to some ancient man your mother had to dig out from some corner of the market. 

“And Satoru…” Lily rambled on, but all it did was remind you of an even worse fact. 

You were terribly in love with her brother. 

You have known the Gojo family for ten years, five months, twelve days, and two hours, and you have been in love with Gojo Satoru for ten years, five months, twelve days, and thirty minutes. 

Their family had immigrated from Japan months before the oldest child was born, but they had only moved to Greenwich ten years, five months, and ten days ago. You met them only two days later when you accidentally wandered into their gardens, unknowing that a family had just moved in. 

The first time you met that particular Gojo, you were thirteen and facing serious issues with yourself and your own family. You wanted to move to America in hopes that the boys over there would fancy you more and your mother forbade it. Satoru laughed when he saw your horrified face popping up from their blackberry bush, definitely not expecting to see anybody there. 

“Hello there,” the stranger called out. You thought he was a grandfather with the way his hair was artic white, but he only seemed to be a bit older than you the closer he got. 

“I’m not stealing from you I swear!” You cried out as you let the blackberries tumble out of your stained hands. You cannot be taken to prison, you simply wouldn’t survive. 

“I can see that.” He crossed his arms as he tried not to laugh at the way your dress was stained a dark blue color. 

He introduced himself, and Lily, and soon, you and the girl were attached at the hip. 

It didn’t help that as kind and as charming as he was, he only saw you as his sister's closest friend. It also didn’t help that every other woman in high society seemed to be in love with the man and it certainly made it so much more horrific that he seemed to have his eyes on everybody else but you. 

He, much like his sister, was averse to the idea of marriage, but for a completely different reason. 

He seemed to despise the idea of being committed, which is most likely why he had been traveling the entirety of Europe and Asia for the past year or so. Despite his mother’s frantic worrying about setting him up with a respectable lady, he pushed them all aside and fled (in some sense) and will be making his grand appearance a couple of days from now. Everybody is chattering with excitement. You’re trying not to fill with total impending dread. 

It had already taken everything you had to pretend that he didn’t exist and that he had simply disappeared, and you knew your wretched mind would fall for him just as quickly as it did the first time around when you were set to see him next week. 

“...and, are you even listening?” Lily asked, her voice garbling back to life as you snapped your eyes back to hers, covering your mouth with your teacup as you insistently nodded, trying to keep your smile from faltering as she squinted her eyes to look you over and see what was wrong.

“I’m totally in tune with you Lils,” you insisted, nibbling on a cookie to help you with nausea which only seemed to make it worse. 

“Hm,” she grunted, not seeming to believe you but not truly caring as she continued, “And thank the heavens you’ll be there beside me, for who knows what would become of me in such an unruly crowd of men and women just waiting for my brother to make his entrance. I’d lose my sanity.” 

Yes, you thought, how lucky. If only love worked that way, of ignoring it until it faded. If only.

“I’ll be there.” You promised. 

For better or for worse, you’d be there. 

---

The ball was just as you had imagined it. 

Extravagant, elegant, large, and incredibly crowded. 

One of the perks of being an outsider in these sorts of scenes is you didn’t have to dance anymore (no matter how much it stung the first time around getting used to this fact). 

Lily was off somewhere, being forced to socialize. Your other sisters were also lost in the crowd, either dancing or being swooned by a potential match. 

You were yet to see the man of the hour, but then again, so was everybody else. He was either hiding away or being swallowed whole by the hoards of people eager to get a glimpse of him. 

Not that you wanted to see him, of course. Just curious. 

The food was, as always, a bonus. Nobody was going to judge you for scarfing anything down when you had begrudgingly sworn off marriage, and perhaps one of the good things about Lily's pact was that you didn’t care much about the public eye anymore. 

“Please, at least act like we’re not starving you.” Your mother pleaded, unfortunately, stuck to your side for the night as she eyes you and your plate. 

“I’m trying my best,” you reasoned, making sure you didn’t drop anything on your dress. 

“The Viscount is coming tonight,” she tried to think and you snorted, earning some distasteful looks from the widows around you. 

“And he’s just dying to see me, I suppose?” You rolled your eyes at the idea, to help the sting from your own words. It was better to be rationable than to be delusional. 

“Well it doesn’t hurt to-”

“Try?” You cut her off with another laugh as you chew on an eclair, “Might as well. Right after the Princess introduces herself I’ll go up.” The two of you eye the girl in the diamond-encrusted gown with an equally bright tiara on her head. Your mother gave up the argument. 

For the last couple of days, you have been at a mental war with yourself. On the one hand, it surely must mean something if he wrote you letters. On the other one, he wrote it to his entire family and he probably views you as such. No matter how much you want to pretend that the Gojo cares for you, it won’t be in the same way that measures how much you care for him. 

“I’m going to get some more of these macaroons, I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself as your mother pressed her lips into a thin line, wanting to push you to dance but knowing no amount of persuading was going to change your mind when it was already set on something. 

Wading through the dense crowd was certainly a feat, but you did it nonetheless. From the dessert table, you could barely make out the pop of chartreuse that was Lily's gown, and you wondered how much longer until she’d be free to giggle and gossip with you. 

Your eyes scanned over the little sweets carefully as you mentally weighed which one would taste good and which one would be a surprise in the kindest sense of the word. The colorful ones were often pretty but they tested either too bland or too bitter and the ones with caramel side sugar tended to be too sweet. All the good macaroons with the pistachio filling were gone, which was odd because you could only count on your fingers how many people aside from you tended to favor that one. 

“Looking for something?”

A green macaron was held in front of your face, slowly forcing you to turn your head in its direction as it began to pull away from you

Him. 

“Oh!” 

Oh? If only you could hit yourself in the head that would be great. 

“Oh?” Gojo chuckled, his brows pinching together in slight confusion at your reaction as his lips threatened to pull into a teasing smile, “I haven’t seen you in a year and that's what you’ve got to say?”

You try not to let your heart flutter at his cheeky manner as you roll your eyes, your smile growing as you take him in. 

He’s gotten taller if that was even possible. His hair is still as white as it was, and it seems that no amount of sun was going to change that. He’s gotten a little bit tanner, no longer that frigid pale hue to his skin that made you worry he’d drop dead at any moment. He’s unfortunately more muscular, which just means you have to cast away the scrawny image you’ve made in your mind in hopes that he’d come back anemic. 

His eyes are just as captivating as ever, blue and inviting. His jaw is sharper and yet he has no facial hair on his face. Which you prefer on most men but you’re glad he’s never given into that trend. 

Most importantly, he still looks like that boy you fell in love with so many years ago, and no time away would ever change you at your core. 

You try to not let your neck prickle with heat as he seems to assess you the same way you're doing to him, try not to feel self-conscious as his eyes roam over your features. Sure, a person can change in a year, but you wouldn’t bet you’ve changed that much that would warrant this amount of staring.

“So…?” 

“‘Toru, hi!” You snap out of your state, watching as his face picks up and breaks into a grin as you set your plate down somewhere, seemingly now realizing that Satoru is here and in front of you, “My, you’ve grown so much!”

“Really?” He looks at his torso and his arms as if he can’t believe it. 

“Well, a bit,” you curse at your awkwardness as he cocks a brow, “I’m sorry, I’m a bit out of my element tonight. I apologize for my earlier reaction.” You duck your head down for a second as he waves it off, hopefully not offended. 

You’re glad this little table is tucked away in an alcove away from most of the public eye, and the only people around the two of you are older people and the people standing outside in the gardens. Either they don’t see the man or they’re being somewhat human and granting the two of you some privacy. 

“Apology accepted, but not needed,” he teases, patting your shoulder affectionately as you try not to act as if that single touch made you reconsider the idea of marriage. 

“How are you?” He asks after a beat, not affected by your out-of-character attitude as he tilts his head to the side. 

“As good I could be,” you offer him a wink that came off as an elongated blink, “Whatever Lily filled you in on has most likely happened to me too.” He chuckles, his laughter the sound of melted honey. 

Fuck, you’re never going to get over him. 

“And you? How were your trips?” You egged him on, eyes tracing him, watching as some pink dusted over his cheeks. 

“Boring. Couldn’t wait to come back.” He says, but you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. Mixed with the way he couldn’t contain his bits of laughter, you laughed alongside him. 

“I’d believe it if not for your tan and newfound outlook on life, or so it seems from how Lily describes it.”

“She exaggerates everything,” he waves it off, and you wonder what that double-edged sword implies. 

“I-”

“He’s here!” You hear a loud voice cut you off as the two of you look over your shoulder to see his mother leading the awaiting princess and her train to where the two of you are standing, “He seems to be getting warmed up with this fine lady!” She says your name as heat rushes to your cheeks in embarrassment. 

It was only seconds before you were surrounded by men and women you had never seen before, all hanging off of Satoru’s words as he scrambled to answer all of their questions. 

And so it begins, you say to yourself as you push away from them, going to find Lily as you wonder why you even try. 

You miss the way he calls out for you, quiet enough so that nobody else hears it, but loud enough that his chest tightens in confusion at the sheer desperation of it. 

---

“I despise men!”

You’re at the Gojo estate for once, and Lily has started a new tirade that has lasted for the last hour. 

“What brought this on?” You press, exchanging worried glances with Satoru and her younger sister as she groans, jamming her palms into her eyes as she vehemently shakes her head. 

“Does this,” she shoves her hand, more importantly, her ring finger without a ring, in front of your face, “Look like I’m keen on getting married to you?”

“No….?” You mutter, scared of what she would say next. 

“Does it look like an invitation to barge into my home?”

“Not exactly,” You say, earning a sympathetic look for Satoru as she glares at him. 

“Does it look like I want to get frisky in the broom cupboards?”

“Christ! Lily, your sisters here!” You shout, jumping to cover the young girl's ears. Lily waves it off and Satoru just chuckles, a twinkle in his eyes as you usher the girl out of the tea room as you slam the door shut. 

“This certainly beats the beaches in Venice,” Satoru says as you near the table again, winking at you as you laugh quietly. 

“I’m so glad I’m not getting married. You should be too,” she points her finger at you as you look up at her, “Men are nothing but evil, money hungry, sex driven-”

“Charming, majestic-” Satoru talks over her as she talks even louder. 

“Dirty animals!” She finishes with a cry. 

You and Satoru share a glance as you try to laugh. She’s not wrong, far from it. The majority of men in this place needed to be sent back to their creator, but Lily had a vein in his forehead that was protruding at an odd angle. 

“You laugh now, but you’ll be thanking me fifty years from now.” She warns as you nod, acting totally compliant with her. 

“You’re still with her on her no-marriage pact?” Satoru asks as he stands up, walking past Lily as he looks out from the window, seemingly admiring the gardens outside. He glances over at you as you sink into the satin cushions beneath you. 

“Yes,” but your answer came out shaky and unsure. 

“Of course she is,” Lily answered for you with a definite nod, “And besides, she’s the luckier one. It’s not like any man has even asked her to marry anyway.” She says jokingly, shoving a biscuit in her mouth as she plops herself down beside you, nudging your shoulder with hers as if it were the funniest thing in the world. 

You wish the sofa could swallow you whole. 

“Hey,” Satoru turns around, brows furrowed as he looks at his sister, but the door opens before he can finish his sentence. 

“Miss Gojo,” their butler, Fred, who you’ve known since you’ve known Lily announces for her as he stands at the foot of the door, “Your mother has requested your presence in her quarters.”

Lily stands up with a groan, wiping the crumbs off of her dress as she makes sure there’s nothing around the corners of her mouth. 

“I’m needed elsewhere,” she pats your arm caring for it despite having her words wanting to make you plummet yourself off of a cliff, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You give her a weak goodbye, watching as she leaves with the door shutting behind her as you sit up a bit straighter, getting ready to leave yourself. 

You stand up, careful not to make any eye contact with Satoru out of sheer embarrassment as you smooth out the wrinkles in your dress, hoping the silence would suffocate you faster than it would him. 

“Lily talks too much sometimes,” he finally says, stepping away from the window as he takes a two closer to your direction, before passing, “I’d apologize on her behalf but I’m pretty sure she’s already forgotten what she’s said.” He tries to lighten the mood and bless his soul, but you can already feel your spirits for the day sour. 

“It’s alright,” you promise, though he seems to disagree but you continue anyway, “I know her, she doesn’t mean it.” Still doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, a part of you chides. 

“Are you leaving?” He asked, taking another tentative step forward. 

“I was planning on it,” you say with a little chuckle, hoping that your eyes watering up wasn’t too noticeable, “Is that alright with you?”

He looked at you with his bright eyes and just blinked, taking a while to reach his senses. 

“Y-yes! Yes, quite alright. Let me just get my coat…” He muttered, brushing past you as you quickly tried to reject his incoming offer. 

“There’s no need!” You run a bit to catch up to him and his fast pace, “My house is barely two skips away,” you lamely joke, hoping he’d give it up. You wanted to wallow in your self-pity on your walk home, not have to converse with the one man who’d inadvertently give you more to pity over. 

“Not a chance,” he argued, draping the coat in question over his arm, “What sort of person would I be if I let you walk out alone?”

Any other person, you wanted to say but stopped yourself. 

“I don’t mean to bother you…” You wrong your hands in a nervous state, eyes darting everywhere but his. 

You were trying to work on your silly crush this past week, which had unfortunately ramped up ever since he came back. In response, you worked out that the best solution to getting over it was to act like he didn’t exist and ignore him whenever possible. Clearly, it was working out completely in your favor. 

“Not a bother at all.” He insisted, linking his other arms with yours as you jumped a bit in surprise. He was forward, if anything. 

“Fred,” he calls out, getting the butler's attention as you try to hide yourself away, “Tell my mother I’ll be back in a bit.” The man just nods, opening up the front doors as Satoru leads the two of you out. 

The sun was out and working away, which didn’t help with the heat already prickling away through your skin. The Gojo estate was large, but hidden away, and for that you were glad. You could only imagine the gossip that would arise if certain ladies in society were to see you (helplessly) draped over the bachelor's arm. 

“Are you enjoying being back here?” You asked, trying to exert your confidence when you were feeling anything but. 

It’s not like you were unsure of yourself at most times, it’s just that when you’re around the one man you’ve been in love with since childhood and he feels nothing of the sort, you can’t help but be more conscious over everything. 

Satoru looked at you, shrugging as he pursed his lips, thinking of an answer. 

“I missed it,” he says, “But I mainly came back for my family and my friends and well…” He trailed off, chewing on his lip as he waved off his thoughts as if it didn’t matter, “Nonetheless, now that I’ve been around them, I remember why I wanted to leave.” 

And sometimes, despite him not wanting to, made you feel as if you were the most important person he’s had the pleasure of talking to, when in reality that’s just in his nature. 

“Is Lily pestering you too much?” You tease, a little smile on your face that wrinkles the edges of your eyes. He simply stared at you again, his eyes bright. 

“That,” he playfully tugged on your arm, “And the fact that my mother has bombarded me with the idea of marriage. And Luke is having troubles with his fiancé  and Annie doesn’t want to learn to read…it’s all just very chaotic.” He finished with a tired laugh, as if that’s all he could muster up. 

“Seems like a normal day in your house, if I’m being honest.” You lament, kicking a pebble with the point of your shoe. 

“I guess so,” he heaves a sigh that comes out dramatically, “Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve put up with it all these years.”

You scoff, digging your elbow into his side a bit to show that you were offended by his statement. 

“Your family is perhaps the closest thing I have to a second family!”

“And who says family can’t get on your last nerve?” He argued, and that shut you up. He was, indubitably, correct. 

“Yes, well,” you stumble to find some reasoning and he laughs seeing you falter, knowing that he got you cornered, “‘Toru, you are simply a horrible influence to be around.” Is all you can come up with, and despite the severity of your words it only seems to spur him on even more. 

“And yet you can’t seem to get enough of me, can you?” 

You almost stopped in your tracks, your heart seizing in your chest as you try not to fumble up your well-made facade of indifference. 

All you could remember upon his statement were the words he spoke so long ago, not knowing you’d heard them. 

“Charles, you don’t get it, I don’t want a wife!” Satoru exclaimed as he snapped at his friend. It was a gala held at the queen's palace and you had strayed too far away from Lily and found yourself hiding behind a wall as you eavesdropped on the conversation. 

“Not even the Princess?” Another man pushed as you heard Satoru let out a heavy sigh. You peeled around to see him pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I don’t want to be tied down. You saw what happened to my parents.” He argued. A part of you sympathized with him. 

“Well,” you could make out this voice as his younger brother, two years older than you he went to thinking, “What about that friend of Lily’s? She seems nice enough.”

The hair on your arm pricked upwards. Surely they couldn’t be talking about you. 

“Who?” Satoru asks and his brother says your name in a hushed whisper, as if you held more weight in your title than the Princess did. 

“Her? No, absolutely not,” he said with such disgust that his friends thought he was joking, “You’re out of your mind if you’d think I’d want to court her.”

Your heart, full of love and hope and dreams cracked, crumbled in your chest. And you left, running away because that’s all you knew how to do and sobbed your eyes out to Lily, stating that you heard somebody talking bad about you, refusing to admit that it was her own brother that was causing you to break in front of her. 

A part of you felt pathetic for still caring for him after that night, but there’s not much fight in you when it comes to the people you loved. You pulled away, sure, and stopped your lame excuses of flirting, but you never stopped. He never found out that you heard, so he continued as your friend and you continued as the shameless woman. 

“Right,” you swallow thickly, glad that your estate is now growing closer and closer, knowing that you feel sick and can’t handle it anymore, “Thank you so much for your help, but I’m sure I can make the treacherous journey on my own now.” 

You wring your hand away from his arm, you smile wobbling as you tip your head in his direction, watching him try to make sense of your quick change in nature. 

“Let me take you up to your door,” he started but you raised your hand to silence him, shaking your head. 

“That would be too much to ask for. I will leave you here…um, Satoru,” you say politely, not noting the way his jaw clenched at your sudden formality when addressing him, “I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

And you left quickly before he could say anything else. You must stay focused on the reality of your situation;

Your best friend's brother just simply wasn’t in love with you. 

---

“Miss,” 

You perked up from your chair in your quaint little library, setting your book down as you watched one of the maids, Ella, politely calls from the door. 

“There’s a gentleman outside calling for you.”

Your brows furrowed as you found a marker so that you don’t lose your place and purse your lips together in questioning. 

“Do you know who…?” Your head cocked to the side as you stood up, walking near her as you wondered if it were that delivery boy who said he’d come with the new copies of the Brontë books you’d been eyeing for the past month. 

“It’s the Viscount Gojo, miss.” She said simply. 

Your face dropped, and you watched as confusion spread across hers. 

“Him? Here? Did he say what was wrong?” You began to rustle around, trying to find something to throw on top of your slip. 

Did something happen to Lily? Did she run away? Was their mother in trouble? You could recall her telling you that her head was aching, could something serious have happened because of that? Christ, you should have told somebody about it rather than comfort her and make her tea. Was he leaving again? Perhaps-

“He said he wanted to see you miss, that’s all he told me.” She seemed apprehensive, judging your face to see if you were maybe feeling ill due to your reaction. 

“Um, alright, just,” you hurried around, trying your fastest to get to your room, “Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes! Don’t tell him I’m preparing myself, just say that I was discussing matters with somebody!” You call out as you sprint across the halls, not hearing any confirmation as you lock yourself in your room, ransacking your closet to find something not too flashy but not too boring. 

It took a good four minutes just to find a suitable dress and another five to make your face and hair look presentable enough as you scampered down the stairs only to find said Viscount waiting in the foyer. 

His face turned to yours as he heard your heels clicking on the marble, growing into a bright smile as he dipped his head down to greet you. 

“Hello,” he said your name with that smooth voice of his as he took his jacket off and kept it on his arm, “I’m sorry for turning up on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem,” you try to catch your breath for the first time in the last ten minutes as your chest heaves slightly up and down, “No problem at all. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He takes a second to respond, eyes scanning your features, your clothing, your chest as it tries to catch a solid breath, and you feel yourself look down to make sure there aren't any noticeable wrinkles in the fabric. 

“I, I just wanted to drop in. See how you were doing.”

You tried not to look even more startled, but your brows creased once again as you gnawed on the inside of your cheek. 

“I’m quite alright…thank you…?” You couldn’t look that out of the ordinary, right?

“Good, that’s good,” he watched as you finished your descent down the stairs, slowly coming towards him as you waited for him to finish, “I’m sorry if I interrupted your conversation with…?” Ella did give him a name you wanted to guess. 

“Lord Cornwallis.” You finished for him, not knowing why that was the first name that came to your mind. It was true that he had been here yesterday, but you didn’t talk much to him in his brief visit. 

“Lord Cornwallis?” Satoru repeated back in shock, his brows shooting upwards as he did nothing to hide his outburst. His face quickly turned into one of disgust, which accurately represented the emotions you felt yesterday when you eavesdropped on the conversation he had with your mother behind closed doors. 

“Yes, you just missed him. He went out through the back door,” why were you making this web of lies even bigger? You have no self-control, do you?

“What was Cornwallis doing here?” 

You but your tongue, having to come up with a lie or tell the truth as to why he had visited yesterday. Either way, both options turned out with horrible results. 

“He asked for my hand.” The truth it was, then. 

His brows seemed to disappear into his hairline as his jaw slacked, mouth wide open. Damn your mind, you should have just lied. 

Lily was wrong in one thing, perhaps. You have gotten a few marriage offers in the last three years, but by all men who were older than your grandfather. You hadn’t even told Lily about them and now you were telling her brother. 

“I…” Satoru couldn’t even find the right words to say. You wanted to bury yourself in a hole. 

“…Cornwallis? Isn’t he-”

“Pushing ninety-nine? Yes.” Nobody was sure of his age, and ninety-nine was perhaps even being too generous. Everybody knew that Cornwallis was simply ancient. 

“Did I save you from the conversation at least? I must say, if there was any man I would wish ill upon, it’s certainly him. He’s a lying old cheat.” He tried to joke again but you swallowed thickly. Perhaps if he came at the same time yesterday he might have. But he didn’t and you had to sit through an hour of him pleading with your mother as the two of you just stared in abject horror and surprise. 

“Yes well, thank you…for doing that.” You lied, cleaning your teeth together as you tried to smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings as you came up closer to him, desperately hoping to change the topic of the conversation. 

“Is everything alright with Lily?” You asked his eyes that were focused on the floor jumping to yours as your lips parted, worry still clear on your face. 

“Yes, of course, I just wanted to ask a favor of you. But, judging from your encounter with men today I would understand if this is pushing it,” he cut right to the crux of the matter. He seemed nervous, which was an odd emotion to see on a man otherwise very confident and sure in himself. It unsettled you. 

You tilted your head, waiting for him to find his words and continue. You could make out the slight blush on his face, the pink hue that spread across his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. He was, by all means, the cutest person you’ve ever seen. 

“My mother's holding another ball, two weeks from now, you see,” his lip caught between his teeth, “And she’s been bugging me about having a date for the night. She wants to appease the rest of the gentry, I suppose. Would you, by any chance, like to be that?” 

You stopped computing his words. 

“...It’s honestly just to get her off my back. And you wouldn’t have to stay with me the entire evening, you could do whatever you’d like after we get some of the necessities over with. Lily was the first who suggested the idea, she said you wouldn’t be doing much other than gossip with her. Of course, if you don’t want to I certainly won’t force the idea, but it’s merely a suggestion.” His blue eyes, ever so convincing and round and caring bore into yours, and despite your better judgment you find yourself nodding. 

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you say a bit breathlessly, completely forgetting about Cornwallis and the way you were debating it and the fact that this means nothing at all, and would most likely cause you more harm than good. 

His nervousness washed away into a big smile, and you cursed yourself at the little flicker of hope you felt deep in your soul as he scrambled to find the right words to say to thank you. The flood of gratitude and appreciation stabbed deeply into your heart as he kept repeating friend, but you were too hopeful for love. 

Your mother always said that loving would always be your greatest weakness. 

---

You should have said no. 

The amount of eyes that were focused on you was enough to make you nauseous, and you couldn’t get sick for you hadn’t had anything to eat today with how hurried everything was. 

Your arm was draped around Satoru’s, and he held tightly onto your hand. He was the image of luxury and charisma right now, and if you were in the crowd looking as he made his way through the crowd you almost would have wanted to bow. 

Time came by a lot faster when you were totally freaking out over it, and before you knew it, you were put in a dress you hadn’t even picked and corseted to the heavens. Your hair was done with extra detail, and they even went as far as putting some Swarovski’s into it so that when the candlelight hit it, you’d sparkle twice as much. 

Satoru, ever the gentleman, had picked you up from your estate as he walked you to their home amidst all the chaos of getting ready for another ball. In all honesty, you have no idea how their mother manages to keep her sanity through all of this.

You were still a bit giddy from your earlier interaction with Satoru, although it didn’t do much to calm your nerves now. 

“I’m sorry for taking so long!” You had said as you rushed down your stairs, careful not to trip over your train as you put your earrings in. Ella said that he was waiting for you downstairs, you just underestimated how early he’d be. 

“Don’t apologize…” He had turned around from admiring a painting, his eyes widening a bit when he saw you. He quickly shut his mouth, but you had already gauged his reaction. You tried not to let it get the best of you, but you could have sworn he blushed more often than usual when you interlinked your arm with his.

“You’re cutting off my blood circulation.” He whispers in your ear as you try to smile, your eyes nervous as they dart around the room. How could it be even bigger than that last ball? Did they suddenly meet thirty new people? 

“Maybe you could cut mine off.” You snap back through your teeth, your hand gripping his wrist as tightly as you could. 

“How are we supposed to dance if one of us is dead?” He grumbles back, putting on a little grin as he makes eye contact with his mother, and then goes back to whispering, “It’s just one song and you’re done. You’ve done this before.”

You wanted to shove him to the ground. 

“No, I haven’t!” You say loud enough that he hears but try to mask it so that nobody else does, “I told you yesterday this is my first time dancing with somebody!” As embarrassing as it was to admit, right now you couldn’t be bothered to care as he led you to the middle of the room, standing in first position as you two waited for the orchestra to begin. 

“Are you saying I’m your first?” He teased, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he watched you grow mortified, rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting way as his means to apologize. 

You wanted to go ahead and argue but the cello and violins started and you were whisked away by his calculated movements, and the only thing you could do was follow in his lead. 

The two of you practiced a bit in the days leading up to this, but it was a lot different when your only crowd was Lily and her constant whining about how boring it was. 

Now, with everybody staring at you and him, it was far more daunting. 

“Don’t look at the ground, look at me,” he whispered in your ear, smiling when your eyes traveled to him. He tried not to crack when he saw the pure loathing and hatred in them, but at least you were looking up and not at his shoes. 

“‘Toru I’m never doing a favor for you again, you owe me.” You groan, letting him twirl you around in a circle as some of the ladies give a polite clap. 

“Name your price.” He egged you on, bringing you back flush against his chest as his hand found purchase on your waist. 

“Not money,” you grumble, eyes twitching as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, you’ve always wanted to dance with him, sure, but not under these circumstances. 

“Books?” You consider it but shake your head. You deserve something bigger for what you’re putting yourself through. Shocking enough, after being a wallflower for so many years, you weren’t handling being in the spotlight too well. 

“I’ll think about it. But it has to be big.” You warn and he lifts up his pinky on your waist to show you his unbridled loyalty to keeping true to your words.

“Where are you going after this is done?” He spins the two of you around, and you watch as more couples rush around the two of you. It’s less stressful when others are dancing, but you still feel tense. 

“I’m probably going to stay with Lily outside.” He seems to deflate a little, though he still stands tall, his suit never crinkling through his movements. 

“No more dancing?” He teased but you vehemently disagree with the idea. 

“Never again.” It’s not as though you hate it, in fact, a younger you would have been jumping with glee to be able to dance with Satoru. But after years of growing accustomed to watching rather than participating, you can’t grow out of that habit. 

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see the Princess herself as she looked at you with pleading eyes. 

“Would you mind if…?” She motioned to Satoru and then to you. You barely noticed the number coming to an end, and the rupture of applause was the last thing you heard before you scrambled away from him. 

You didn’t even notice how he had held onto your hand tighter, not wanting to let you go.

“O-of course, your majesty.” You winced at your select choice of words and how you said her title almost as if you questioned it. 

“Thank you.” She mumbled and for somebody of such high regard, you wouldn’t think of her to need to plead with somebody, especially you, to be able to have a dance with Satoru. 

Your job for the night was done, successfully might be too loose of a term, but finished nonetheless. You chose not to look back at Satoru, knowing that the wide grin he’d save for the girls he was interested in would only twist that knife deeper into your heart. 

You were a sadist in the most pathetic way possible.

You waved goodbye to Satoru as another number started again, and tried your best to get away from all the twirling bodies as you headed out to find Lily. 

It didn’t take long until you found her trying to weasel out some information from her brother, tapping him repeatedly on the shoulder as he tried to fight her off. 

“…what did you hear, what do you know?” She pressed as he groaned, obviously trying to have a private conversation with the lady next to him. 

“Nothing Lily!” He locked eyes with you as he almost begged silently for you to take her. 

“Lily, I’m here. We can go now.” You looped elbows with her as you dragged her away, giving her brother a quick smile that said you accepted his gratefulness. 

As you walked through the stone path in the garden, she muttered dejectedly about how she was just about to get some good information out of him. 

“How was dancing with Satoru?” She finally asked after a while. The two of you weren’t alone, but far less crowded than it would if you had been inside. 

“Stressful, but the song was short so I wasn’t needed for too long.” You tell her honestly. If there’s one thing you can’t do with Lily it’s lie, for she’ll sniff out of you the moment you come up with it. 

“You look flustered.” She noted, looking over your face and the sweat that dotted over your cheekbones. 

“You dance in a sweltering room like that with the entire ton looking at you and try not to get flustered.” You reasoned and she seemed to buy it. It wasn’t a total lie, but a stretch of the truth. 

“You know,” Lily had terrible balance and often collided with you as she walked, “I was talking to my mother and despite her insistent warnings, I think we should make it official.”

“Make what official?” The lights from the candles above you illuminated her face and she had that look of mischief that either excited or frightened you. 

“That we plan to be unwed.” She grinned cheek to cheek and all you could feel was that same wave of nausea that had been prickling at you since the start of the night. This was the last thing you needed to hear about right now. 

“They’re going to think we’re either lunatics or lovers.” You say with a sullen and heavy sigh, looking up at the sky in some sort of desperate manner as you wait for some sort of angel to save you from this conversation. 

“And what’s the issue with that? Let them think. You have always said you’ve wanted this, so let’s let the world know.” 

Something you wish Lily was was to be more aware. As loving, thoughtful and caring as she was, she never seemed to pick up on the little things. For one, you doubted she noticed just how quiet you got whenever she brought up this conversation. You’d give her the benefit of the doubt and say that you rarely talked much when it came to marriage, but that was just so that you could save yourself from the ongoing embarrassment of never having experienced love or some sort of feeling that somebody would feel towards you to genuinely want to be your husband. 

Not only that, but far from Lily's point of help, is the fact that ever since Satoru has been back, your childish feelings have come flooding right in with him. No matter how many tea sessions you have with Lily and have him sitting in the background, either reading the morning's paper or jotting things down in his journal, it always spins to him sitting right beside you as you talk about anything under the sun. 

And while you know your hopes of marrying him are just too far-fetched, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic. Something Lily just hasn’t ever been able to pick up on when around you. Which is shocking, seeing how the only novels you’ve read for the majority of your life was centered around such a topic. 

“Listen, Lily, I’ve been thinking,” you pause for a second in your place, staring at the pebbles arranged in the formation of a star as you swallow your bile, “That maybe…” 

You were nervously wringing your hands together, a sign that Lily knew all too well. She could read you like any of her books, and she let out a gasp, covering her mouth with a shaky hand as she pointed an accusatory finger at you. 

“No,” she dug the finger into your chest, “You’re thinking of breaking up the pact?” It comes out breathless. Her soft curls of white that had been done up beautifully were slowly falling down as she shook her head in pure shock, not giving you a chance to talk. 

“I mean this is just brilliant. Brilliant! What am I supposed to do now, go out into the world alone as a spinster?” 

You stuttered, your fingers interlaced with one another as you tried to calm her down from causing a scene. Trying to shush her came to no avail as you wring your hands away from her, acting as if your touch was burning. 

If the Gojo’s were anything, it’s overly dramatic in places where dramatics were certainly not needed. 

“Please be rational,” she urged you as she clutched onto your wrists, suddenly pleading to you with her wide eyes, “The season is almost over and you haven’t had any offers. Sooner than later we’re going to be thirty, then forty, then fifty, and husbandless. We should say it now so that it doesn’t come off as a pathetic cry to hold onto what little decency we have in the future!” 

Christ, you hated that she was being somewhat logical. But her rationality stung, the way melted wax does when it burns the skin. She didn’t know just how much she was hurting you, and you doubted she ever would. 

“Look, I know I’m probably not going to be offered a chance at marriage, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least try.” You try to reason with her as she sniffs, her eyes squinted as she looks at you in anger. 

“This was our pact and you’re going against it! What’s next?”

You were going to argue that this pact was only made on the basis of her having too much champagne to drink and you being sullen over her brother, but you were cut off from getting the chance to do so. 

“What’s your issue?” 

You turned around at the familiar voice as you saw Satoru nearing you, Lily continuing her rant as she seemed to completely miss that her brother was coming towards the two of you. 

“What?” You felt overwhelmed with having two Gojo’s corner you, both rather angry from the looks of it. 

“I know that this isn’t your scene but you said you’d be my date. You don’t have to dance with me, but at least be there.” He looks like he’s seething, and you’ve never seen this look on him before. It’s jarring, to say the least. 

You feel like your head is about to explode. 

“I just-”

“....and my mother was only more confident in the idea if you were doing it!” Lily exclaimed, causing you to look back at her as she urged you to think about it. 

“...my mother has given me at least twenty women to mull over in the last twenty minutes. It would have been none if you just acted as my date for the night!” Satoru’s voice rose, and you felt like your heart was going to actually stop. Your head was spinning, your vision was blurry, and you couldn’t hear anything besides a loud ringing in your ears. 

“I’m sorry but-” The two of them talked over you, so stuck in their own worlds that they didn’t notice the tears pricking at your eyes or the way you seemed to be short of breath. It would probably be one of their greatest flaws, never noticing something until it was far too late. 

“Stop!” You cried out, earning some looks from the people around you as you rubbed at your forehead, already feeling it ache under your touch, “Please! Listen, just for a bloody second!” 

You took a deep breath and began. 

“I’m a fucking romantic Lily, and nothing’s ever going to change that! I always have been! And I want to get married, I just agreed to your pact because I know I’m probably never going to get that chance! And god, how can your only takeaway from reading Persuasion be to abstain from marriage?” Your nose crinkles in anger as you turn around to point your finger at her brother's chest, watching as he takes your reaction in obvious surprise. 

“You!” You cry out and he almost backs away, “I was trying to give you some courtesy by leaving! God forbid you gave anybody the idea that you were courting me!” You quickly wipe at your eyes but it does fuck all of hiding how you truly felt as your lips wobbled.  

“Why would…?” He's breathless, no longer angry, just utterly confused and a wee bit frightened. 

“We both know you’re too good for that. How’d you phrase it, you’d be out of your mind if you did such a thing?” You throw his own words back at him, and you watch in some sort of mixture of triumph and heartbreak as realization washes over his features. 

He finally remembers. 

“I…” he swallowed thickly, running a hand through his hair as it fell out of his face, rubbing at his jaw as you looked at you from beneath his lashes, “I didn’t…” but he can’t finish his sentences and instead stops, sharing an unreadable look with his sister as they then look at you. 

“I’m going home.” You say after a beat of silence, breathing deeply through your nose as you look away from the two of them. 

“Let me-” Satoru started but you raised a hand to stop him. 

“I think I’d be better off alone.” You snap, nostrils flaring as you shake your head, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to stop the already impending migraine that is about to come. 

For once in your life, you didn’t care about the eyes boring into your back or the way that whispers flew around you and twisted around your throat like a vine. You were glad that nobody else other than the servants was home as you ran up into your room, locking everybody else out as you sobbed into your pillows. 

---

The days following your (well-deserved) outburst were more than rough. 

To your knowledge, Lily has visited a total of ten times in the past five days, sometimes twice in the same one, while her brother has visited a grand total of zero. You didn’t expect much from him, but this really cemented your quickly growing disdain. 

Your mother informed you constantly that she was trying to put out the fires from that night but you couldn’t bring it to feel too bad, after all, you were glad that you didn’t say anything more drastic. 

“This is just so unlike you!” She cried, shaking in disappointment as you munched on some sweets you nicked from the kitchen. 

“I know,” you chuckled, “I’m so proud of myself.”

She just throws her hands in the air as a sign of utterly giving up and storms out of the room, most likely to meet with somebody else to “clean up the mess.”

She was right for some part, you can’t remember the last time you actually told somebody how you were feeling. It’s not healthy on your end, but growing up with three older sisters who always got it their way meant that you had some lack of backbone. 

Lily and Satoru, as much as you cared about them, didn’t live like that. Their mother loved them all equally and she made sure that all of their voices were heard. She was always making sure that their priorities were met and she never made them feel inferior. 

Which somehow, didn’t pass on to you. 

Loving the way you do got tiring when you got nothing back, and giving everybody your all when nobody seemed to notice it felt as though you were alone in a world full of people who cared for each other. You’ve read the books and heard the stories, but you eventually realized that it simply just wasn’t in your cards to be dealt the same thing. 

They cared, you know they did. But sometimes, it felt like they expected your care in order for them to show it to you. 

“Miss?” you heard a faint voice and a knock at your door. You sat up from your slump as Ella slowly came inside, shutting the door soundly behind her. 

“Did my mother ask you to make sure I haven’t flung myself off the balcony?” You dust away any crumbs from your pull over as you stare out the window. 

“I’m making sure you didn’t.” 

Your head snapped over at the familiar voice only to see Lily standing at the foot of your bed, looking out of place with her bright purple dress. She looked like she was teetering back and forth between staying out and sprinting away, and you admired her courage after how many times you’ve turned down her offer. 

You glared at Ella but she was no longer there, leaving you and Lily alone. 

“You’re just in time then.” You say blandly, standing up from your bed as you make the covers and are careful not to come too close to her. She seemed to notice. 

“We can’t go about this forever,” she stated, rounding the corner of your bed as she took three steps forward while you took one back, not wanting to be cornered again the way you were that night, “This silent treatment is killing me.”

“Then die,” you don’t mean it and she knows it, but her face wobbles for a second and you watch in horror as tears spring to Lily's eyes. 

The last time Lily cried the two of you were fifteen and her brothers had effectively ruined the singular dress she had actually been looking forward to wearing by staining it with ink. You spent at least an hour calling her down and trying to rationalize with her until you finally gave up and offered to cut holes in all of their suits. 

You’re not sure you could do that now. 

“I’m sorry!” She sprung herself forward at you with full throttle as she hugged you tightly, “You’re right! There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic!” You don’t know what to do as you stand there in shock so you awkwardly pat her back, her long white hair never loose so you’ve never really seen it to its full extent. 

“My brother and I have been at war with each other trying to put the blame on somebody else but I’m sorry! You of all people deserve to find love,” she looks up and her eyes just look like oceans and it’s unfair how pretty she looks when she cries because you just look like a mess, “Please, please forgive me.”

You look as she refuses to pull away from you, clutching desperately onto the thin fabric of your nightgown that your mother reprimanded you for not getting out of, and slowly feel your hands circle around her back as you pull her into a hug. 

“Honestly,” you shake your head as she looks up at you, cheeks rosy with streaks of tears and her lip wobbles violently, “I’m probably going to be on that pact ten years from now. But I just-”

“Want to try!” She finished your sentence for you, something the two of you always prided in being able to do, “and that’s respectable too!”

You try not to smile but the corners of your lips tug upwards as you nod, Lily waiting with bated breath as she scanned your reaction. 

“Don’t ever treat me like that again, you hear me?” 

She vehemently nods, pulling away as she wipes at her eyes, holding out her oinks finger as she waits for you to latch on. Sure, it was a childish way of making a promise, but Lily was never the serious sort of person. If anything, this is the most you’ve ever seen her apologize about something. 

“I promise with the depths of my soul. If I do, brand me with an iron.” Your eyes widen as you go to disagree but she won’t take it. 

“I swear.” She repeats gravely. 

You look at her pinky for another second before you bring yours up, not believing that this is still how the two of you go about making amends. 

“Alright then,” you heave a sigh, “I forgive you.”

Her face breaks into a wide and toothy smile as she pulls you in for a tighter hug, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs as she pulls back away. 

“You’ll never regret this, I swear,” she looked radiant, but quickly stopped as she looked down at the ground, trying to gather her thoughts on how to break the news to you, “Now, be prepared for another one.” 

You blink slowly, brows furrowed in confusion as you lean on your bedpost, arms crossing as your lips purse. 

“What?” 

She almost looks ashamed again, looking at the clock on your wall. 

“My mother’s invited you over for dinner. Get ready to see the other Gojo.”

---

Your mother, as difficult as she was to deal with at most times, somehow understood the concept of showing off through a good wardrobe. 

You wouldn’t put any bets on the fact that if your outfits were significantly better you might have had at least one man approach you in all these years, but it certainly could have been a possibility. 

The cut was lower than all your normal dress, and with the help of your corset, pushed the sisters up a considerable amount. 

The color was the most flattering you’ve ever seen, and through the utilization of crystals and diamonds encrusted in the fabric itself, it shined perfectly when the light hit it. 

For the first time, you were glad your mother picked out your outfit. 

Unfortunately, the outfit gave you only so much confidence. When you walked into the Gojo estate, thankfully with Lily on your side, all the memories from that night came flooding back and your stomach flipped upside down. 

You were glad that Lily was seated next to you at the dinner table as well, but it didn’t help that Satoru was seated in front of you, glaring daggers into your face as you tried to avoid looking at him. 

“Now, you didn’t tell me about your plans for the next year, with the season already coming to an end.” Their mother, bless her heart, asked as she loaded some peas into her fork, looking at you with her kind eyes as you struggled to think of a good enough answer. 

“I’m planning on taking a marriage offer up, actually,” you say, trying not to look at Lily for you knew she was already giggling.

In the past five hours, you filled her in on everything, and she decided the best way to get Satoru to say something was if you went with the idea. 

“Oh?” You watched as she perked up in interest, as did the rest of the Gojo family. An offer? 

“Yes,” you nodded, “Lord Cornwallis, actually, if you’ve heard of him?” 

Lily was gleaming as she saw her brother clench his jaw as he stared at the side of your face that was still looking at their mother. 

“L-lord Cornwallis?” You felt bad for lying to her, but you could just come back later and say you’ve changed your mind, “He must be at least-”

“Ninety-nine?” You answered for her as her cheek warmed, “Some say he’s just in his prime, yes.” 

She drank some of her wine. 

“Isn’t that desperate?” Satoru finally said and you heard a loud clatter from the end of the table as their mother angrily sat her cup down, glaring at her son. 

“Satoru!” She exclaimed, the rest of the girls and boys watching in tense silence as they waited for your reply. 

“It’s alright,” you shrugged, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, “And yes, it could come off as desperate. However, I would rather go to a man who finds no problem in courting me rather than somebody who’d tell the whole world just how much it would disgust him to be seen with me.”

You could swear you heard a tooth crack. 

“I’m sorry, am I missing something-” One of the brothers piped up but Satoru acted as if he hadn’t heard him. 

“Well if that man were drunk out of his wits-”

“Then he let his sober thoughts reign free.” You finish for him, nostrils flaring as Satoru twisted the ring on his forefinger back and forth. 

“Again, Miss Gojo, I’m simply thinking over his offer.” You finish, seeing how she could barely take her eyes off of her son as she blinked towards you, giving a shaky smile as she nodded. 

“Of course, there’s no…no problem in that.” She swallowed uncomfortably, as did everybody else. You peeked over at Lily to find her just as you suspected, beaming with silent joy. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, I think my dress has come a bit undone. I’m going to call for somebody to fix it.” You say, excusing yourself as you try to go ahead with the plan you had set in the first place. 

“Make him mad, really mad. Say something about Cornwallis, he despises him,” Lily muttered, sitting cross-legged on your bed as she urged you to listen to her directions, “Then excuse yourself. Say you’ve got to use the privy or something, doesn’t matter.”

You nodded, listening intently as she laid it on thick for what she had been picking up on for the past couple of days. 

“Go upstairs and find his room, you know where it is. Be quick with it too, but there’s this box on his desk that’s full of letters. I swear on my Austen collection that there is a letter with your name on it.”

You felt your heart tumble. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, glancing at the clock to make sure you wouldn’t be late to dinner. 

“Positive. And I’d get it if I could, but he’s so secretive with his room that this is probably the one time it’s going to be unlocked. He’d never suspect anybody going snooping at this hour.”

You grinned, knowing that if you finally got that little something to use against him, he’d have no choice but to grovel at your feet for the rest of his life. 

You quickly scampered up the stairs, telling one of their mates that you’d be able to fix your dress on your own and that you’d be stashed away in Lily's room for the time being, and mentally times yourself as you quickly paced through the halls, looking for the familiar dark oak that would be Satoru’s room. 

Just when you were about to get lost in their maze of a house, you stopped triumphantly behind the last door at the end of the hall, staring deeply at it as you weighed your options. 

You quickly caved, slowly reaching out to the doorknob to see if it was locked. 

It swung open, and you let out a sigh of relief and looked around a final time to make sure that nobody had followed you before you fully let yourself inside. 

It was dark, and you left the door slightly open so that the light from the halls could sleep in a bit, and you went to work on locating the box on his desk that Lily had described to you. 

You squint your eyes, wincing as you bumped into furniture as you made your way to the corner of the large room, blindly reaching and grabbing for anything on the mahogany desk that would resemble a box. 

You let out a sound of triumph as you found a square-shaped glass-feeling thing filled to the brim with papers, holding it upwards to the sliver of light as you quickly ran through the letters with your fingers and you tried to find one with your name on it. 

They seemed like they were all unsent, with many of them labeled to his mother or siblings, and a few to his friends, but you didn’t find any of them labeled to you, and you quickly felt your heart and hopes sink. This was taking far too long.

Just as you were about to give up, you passed a smaller shaped letter with cursive that looked familiar, in the sense that you had seen it addressed before, and pulled it out only to see your name staring back at you. 

A part of you almost wanted to sink into the chair behind the desk, your heart beating rapidly in the small vastness of your ribcage as you held it back up to the light, seeing a note tucked neatly away through the transparency of the envelope. 

Your nimble fingers went to rip the seal of wax off, but stopped as the door swung open. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Satoru stood at the doorway, blocking the rest of the light as his shadow cast over you. 

You dropped the letter, quickly hiding it behind your back as he stepped in, getting closer to you as you abruptly stood up, trying to come up with a feasible lie as you rounded away from his desk, trying to get away from him and his massive build. 

“Oh?” You looked around as if suddenly realizing this wasn’t the place you were supposed to be, “Is this not Lily’s room? Silly me, I couldn’t make it out in the dark. I’ll be leaving now if you’ll excuse me…” You turned around, brushing past him but stopping when you felt his long fingers circle your wrist, turning you around as his eyes squinted. 

“Bullshit,” you flinched, never having heard him curse before as his hands felt around yours, finding the letter you were doing a terrible job of hiding, “You know this house better than your own. Why the hell are you in my room?” 

You didn’t say anything as he brought your hand out from behind your back, opening up your closed fist with much ease to reveal the crumpled-up envelope. Your chest heaved up and down, waiting with bated breath as he stared silently at the letter. You balled your fists back up again, stepping away from him as he followed you quickly in your footsteps. 

“Give that to me y/n,” his voice was low and commanding, unlike anything you’ve ever heard before, and if you weren't in your rebellious mood (and somewhat in your independent, not totally in-love-with-him mood) you would have caved, but you shook your head, looking behind you as to make sure you didn’t back into his bed frame. 

“It’s got my name on it.” You argued, knowing it was a terrible excuse, and you watched him chuckle darkly, knowing that you had no good reason for being in his room and sifting through his letters. 

“And yet it was in my room, in my letterbox, on my desk.” He snapped, eyes a deep blue and different from the usual lightness they carried. He wasn’t joking and he wasn’t lying, he needed that letter back. 

Which just made you want it even more. 

You didn’t know what to do, so the only logical thing in your sporadic mind was to shove it down your dress, hiding it in your chest as Satoru watched your movements like a hawk, not saying anything as you defiantly showed him your now empty hands. 

“Get it now Satoru,” you challenged him, not realizing you had backed up into the wall until your head lightly bounced off from it, wincing at the sting as you looked back behind you. 

He didn’t say anything, and it seemed like his mind was running as quickly as it could as he tried to deal with whatever it was you were doing. Instead, he just three more languid steps forward, nearly face to face with you as he stared down at you, eyes darting from yours to your lips and chest. 

Under any other circumstances, you would have felt like shedding your clothes off from how heated you felt under his gaze. Here, your only resort was to keep them on, to see what was so important about that letter. 

“I came to find you to apologize,” his voice is low and calm, his cool breath hitting your cheek as you struggle to keep your composure, “To be civil. To tell you that I didn’t mean anything I said that night.” 

Despite your mixed emotions, you felt your brows furrow at his select choice of words. 

“Are you here to tell me now that you actually meant every word?” You couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of your mouth, knowing that the answer would probably send you into a state you could never get out of as the person you’ve loved for the majority of your life confirms your biggest fears.

But shockingly, he just shakes his head, his lips pink and plush and you’ve never found yourself focusing on them more than you are now. 

If only you knew that he felt the same as he looked at you. 

“No,” he stepped closer, if possible, but still had room to shove him away. But you didn’t, not now, you couldn’t, didn’t want to as his nose nudged yours a bit, your lashes fluttering against your cheek as your lips parted, waiting for him to do something, 

“I’ll show you that I didn’t mean them.”

You couldn’t breathe, your lungs contracting as his face fell towards yours, your lips meeting ever so slowly as they finally landed on yours, soft and somehow delicate as they pushed against yours, finalizing the kiss as he began to move them. 

You’ve never kissed anybody before, often dreaming about it as you lay in bed hopelessly in love, but never thought you’d be here from the man you’ve imagined on the other side doing it with him. 

He moved slowly as if he knew that this was your first time, and you didn’t know how to handle your emotions as he angled his chin to get closer to you, his lips capturing you in such a heated and feverish pace that you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight as you thought back on it. 

His hands slowly came up to your waist, tugging you flush against his body as your hands somehow found their way behind his neck, finger curling into his long strands of arctic white as he groaned against you when you tugged a bit, the sound coming from deep within his chest. 

You were impatient, always have been, and it probably took him a little bit by surprise as you quickened the pace, hungry after so many years of starving for this as you pushed against him for more fervor, feeling him smile slightly against your lips as he met you in the middle, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as you whined slightly as the feeling. 

He nipped at your lips, his tongue poking out from in between yours, and you absentmindedly opened your mouth a little bit to make room for him, heart and mind working in tandem as he brought up a hand to cradle the back of your head, making sure it didn’t hit the wall as he pushed against you. 

It was messy and hurried, and for once, it felt as if he felt the same you were feeling. As if he too wanted this, needed this more than air itself, and that thought alone made your mind stop functioning. 

Your hands moved from his neck to his chest, fingers clutching onto the satin fabric of his suit, wrinkling the fabric as your noses bumped against each other, sheer desperation showing from the two of you. 

“Viscount Gojo?” 

The two of you almost jumped at the knock that sounded from the door. 

“Your mother is asking where you are. She’s worried about the lady as well,” Fred didn’t peek his head in, and for that you were grateful. You were sure you looked like a total mess at the moment, but Satoru spoke, glancing at the door as he took a deep breath, almost as if it was his first time breathing in a couple of minutes. 

“Tell her that we’re working things out. It’ll take a bit more time.” His voice sounded steady enough, but from where you were standing you could see how swollen his lips were, the fact that they were red and glistening with sweat. His hand on your waist tightened as if he didn’t want to let you go, and your hand lay flat against his chest.

“Of course,” Fred answered, “Take your time.” He shut the door completely, and the two of you waited until you heard his footsteps becoming softer and softer until you could no longer hear them. 

You waited, looking in the direction for another second before you looked up at him only to see his eyes gauging yours for a reaction, somehow a storm going on behind them as he battled twenty different emotions. 

“I’m still hurt Satoru,” you whisper, his eyes never changing but his shoulders tense a bit as you drop your hands away from him, as if you were suddenly coming to your senses and realizing what you had just done, “I can't forgive you this easily.”

You don’t know how to handle your feelings sometimes, and sometimes they catch up to you later than they should. You could still hear his words from that night ringing around your mind and nothing was stopping it no matter how hard you tried. 

“Come get the letter when you’re ready to apologize with more than just your lips.” 

You look back up at him one more time before you push away, feeling him lightly move away from you to give you space as you smooth out the front of your dress, touching your face to make sure that none of the makeup and powder that was swiped against your face wasn’t wrecked as you left. 

You don’t look back as you left him silently in his room, shutting the door behind you as you stopped, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you went back down to dinner. 

---

A week passed since your night with Satoru, and you’ve come to terms with the fact that he regrets it. 

It hurts, it hurts even more when you convince yourself that he probably was trying to take pity on you and test how true his old words were, but you couldn’t spiral, knowing that it would cause even more turmoil. 

Lily came by regardless, under the impression that you and her brother made up and are on better terms, and you're in no rush to tell her the truth of what happened. 

She asked about the note, but you insisted that you couldn’t find it. She grumbled that he probably threw it away after she pestered him constantly about it. 

“What about Lord Balfour?” She was sprawled out on your bed, her legs crossed resting it up against the wall with her head at the opposite end, looking on a piece of parchment in which she had gone around asking for men looking for marriage (and a true romantic connection, she stressed). 

“Hm, too bald,” you said, sitting in your vanity, washing off the rest of the powder on your face as you dipped the soft cotton cloth back into the pitcher of water as you looked at her through the mirror, “Isn’t he a year younger than us?”

She pouted as she thought, looking back to her list as she crossed off that name. 

“Count Alexei?” She seemed to like this one and you set your towel down, trying to place a face to the name. 

“Isn’t he from Russia? Wouldn’t it be difficult for him to come back and forth?”  You asked and she nodded, although she seemed more sad that you didn’t want him. 

“Have you just gone around the ton asking if anybody’s looking for marriage?” You teased and she turned around, sitting up as she wiped the hair out of her face. 

“I take your journey to find true love very serious,” she argued and you snorted, knowing that it was a kid if that and the fact that she liked judging the men of the higher class, “Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not.” You turn around from your chair as you face her, urging her to continue. 

“Duke Cambell?” She looked up from the list with a raised brow, only to find you looking the same, taking more time to consider the name. 

“He explicitly stated he’d consider marriage? With me?” You tilt your head to the side. Surely it would be too good to be true. He wasn’t too pretty, nobody was like Satoru, but he wasn’t that bad to look at either. 

“He seemed quite eager about it, actually.” She said, and you smiled a bit, feeling like a silly schoolgirl with the way you ducked your head. 

“He’s a bit shy, isn’t he?” You said with a little giggle and she snorted, nodding as she circled his name and put a question mark next to it. 

“Just means he’s more apt to moan louder,” she said blandly and your mouth dropped, burrowing your face in your hands at her very open nature. Even after ten years it sometimes caught you off guard. 

“Lily!” You shouted, trying to hold in your laugh, and she just looked at you as if you should have expected this as she rose from your bed, stretching her arms above her head as she let out a frantic yawn. 

The sun had already set and she knew her mother would be expecting her to arrive soon, and you went to stand but stopped you. 

“No need to stand, I’ll bid farewell from here.” 

You rolled your eyes at her dramatics, picking up the cloth again as you dabbed at your cheeks. 

“I assume you’ll be here tomorrow?” Crossing your legs as she shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

“Yes. In fact, I’ll leave this prized list with you so that you can mull it over,” she walked over a bit and set it down on the top of your vanity, looking at you as she put a solemn hand on your shoulder, “Do think over Count Alexis. He is rather dreamy.” 

You chuckled, waving goodbye to her as she left the door with a litter thud, blowing kisses as you snorted at her exaggerated act, turning back around to your mirror as you wiped away the remaining bits of your makeup. 

You were already in your dressing gown, the material soft and light on your skin as you set the cloth back down, drying your face off with another one as you got ready to sleep. 

With meticulous care you took your earrings off and began to work on your necklace but struggled with the finicky clasp, your thumb slipping just as you were about to get it. You let out a quick groan of frustration, shutting your eyes as you tried not to lose your temper over a necklace.

“Do you need help with that?” 

You were getting better at controlling your reactions, but your eyes snapped over to the top of your mirror as he stood there, shutting the door behind him. Your hands fell to your lap as you silently seethed. 

Ella was never going to hear the end of it. 

You said nothing and he quietly walked over to where you sat with your back to him, opting to look at him through your mirror as his slender fingers slowly came up to your neck. 

“I’m getting rid of my maid.” You mutter eyes dropped to your lap as you try to control your breath as his fingertips touch your delicate skin, gingerly getting to work of undoing the clasp. He didn’t say anything and the only sound that filled the room was your slow little puffs of air, trying to get your pulse to stop from doing the strange rhythmic beating it always did when you were around him, as if he somehow became the conductor of your heart. 

You heard a small click and the necklace became undone, and he gathered it in his palm as he set it down next to your little trinkets, dropping his hands from your shoulder as his cerulean eyes found yours once again, and you looked away, his deep stare burning through yours. 

“Don’t,” his voice came out rough as if he hadn’t made much use of it for a while, “She’s always turned me away when I came asking for you. I weasled my way through her right now, almost blew my cover when Lily was leaving.” 

Oh.

“I’m over it.” No, you weren’t, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud.

You opened up the drawer to the left of you, moving some little cases of jewelry around as you found the letter you had hidden away as you brought it out, setting it on the desk as you stood from your chair, pushing it back in as you faced him, “Take it. I didn’t read it.” Despite how much you wanted to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to stoop that low and read through something he didn’t want you to see. 

He glanced over at the letter and then at you, taking the letter with careful movements as he found the letter opener scattered on your desk, ripping through the wax as he opened it up, passing the envelope back to you. 

“Read it.” 

You certainly weren��t expecting that. 

“What?” You couldn’t blink, looking at his outstretched hand that held the very thing that had been bothering you as if it was nothing, “I don’t-” 

“Go on,” he urged quietly, his voice caught in the back of his throat, “Read it out loud. Please.” 

You looked at him once more to make sure he wasn’t going crazy before you gently took it from his hands, your fingers brushing past each other as you opened it up, taking out the letter as you unfolded it, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the worst. 

“I’m terrible at writing letters, you should know,” you start, squinting as you move closer to your candle so that you can read it better, “And you should know that I’ve written this twenty other times. I have-

“Twenty balled-up pieces of paper next to me,” Satoru finished the sentence, not looking at the letter once as he read it from memory, “If only you could see the mess,” he paused, his hands shaking a bit as he continued, “I apologize for not sending as many letters to you as I should, but aside from my travels which have proven to do nothing other than make me regret leaving, I only have one other thing left to tell you. 

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I thought that it would do me some good to leave and get some time to think about how bad it would be if I said out loud that I was in love with the girl who’s my sister's best friend, but I’ve simply gone mad over needing to see you again. I’m in Paris, which is coincidentally the city of love but I’ve grown bitter and resentful over the fact that the woman I love is an ocean away from me. I can’t do it anymore. No, scratch that, no, I can’t do this other letter…” 

“...It’s too pathetic. You’re worth more than this.” You concluded, reading along because you couldn’t be yourself to look up at him, knowing that you simply would break apart and couldn’t take it as you heard the three words you’ve wanted to hear from the man that you never thought would say them. 

You looked at the paper, eyes scanning each word again as you let out a heavy sigh, feeling like you were living in a dream that was wrapping its arms slowly around you and whisking you away. 

“That night, I projected. I don’t know why I said what I said, I just know that thinking it over told me everything I needed to know and I acted like a coward and a fool and I hurt you when really, I love you. I love you, I’ve never stopped. I burn for you, and I always will.” He whispered, his eyes wet with unshed tears as he cleared his throat, wiping at his nose as he sniffled. 

You’ve never seen him like this, exposed and raw. But you knew that you mirrored his emotions, knew that you were in the same state that he was for he carefully brought his hand up to your cheek, wiping a tear away as he cupped your face in his hands. 

“I know that it would be too much to ask for your forgiveness, but please, I don’t know how much longer I can go without at least seeing your face, hearing your voice, your laugh, you’re kind, kind heart.” His hands trailed down your face, down your arms, and your waist, settling on your hips as he ducked his head downward, tears sliding down the curve of his nose as he did something unexpected. 

The Viscount Gojo Satoru began to kneel. 

You froze, looking down in shock as he bowed his head in shame and apology. 

“‘Toru, please, I,” your voice broke and you quickly wiped your tears away, taking his hands that were sprawled out across your waist as you held them, not knowing how to handle this display of vulnerability as you gently made him look up at you, “Just tell me one thing.” 

His thumb caressed the back of your hand, giving a soft nod as he whispered; “anything,” and his hand moved up your waist, holding your back as your hands unknowingly went to his hair, moving it away from his face as your fingers twirled and played with his white strands, basking in the sense of having him at his knees for you. 

“Why did you wait so long to come back?” Your voice is barely audible as it cracks, a year of missing him and ten years of longing for him coming out as he shakes his head, almost as if he was more remorseful about it than you could ever imagine, and he shifted so that he wasn’t resting on his ankles anymore, digging deep into his pocket as he brought out a little box. 

“I went back to Japan. I was trying to find this little ring my father gave my mother back when he started to pine after her,” he opened up the box, a delicately cut blue diamond rind resting on a thin gold band stared back at you, shining in the candlelight, “I wanted to give it to you as a promise…” and he trailed off, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he suddenly became a bit embarrassed, pocketing the box again as he looked back up at you. 

“What was the promise?” You can barely hear your words over the thumping of your heart. 

He swallows, slowly coming to standing back up, never losing his hold on you, clutching onto your thin nightgown as if it was the only thing grounding him to reality. 

“That I’d marry you one day.” He whispered back, his voice hushed as if he didn’t want them to escape the vicinity of your room, this shared space between the two of you in which you stripped each other bare to the soul, only the find that they longed to be in each other's place even when they were miles apart. 

Just as he did so many nights ago, he leaned closer to you, giving you time and space to push him away, to yell, to scream, but you didn’t, nudging his nose with yours as your lips found each other, this time quick and rough and not wanting to be patient because there was no room for such a thing. 

He let out a small groan as you tugged on the hairs at the back of his nape, pushing you further down until your back hit one of your windows, feeling the cool night air from the glass as it traveled through the thin cotton of your slip

It seemed like something in him was finally let go, and you as well, and everything came tumbling down in the best way possible. 

It was so messy and rushed and desperate that you felt like you were going to faint, the air from your lungs being stolen by his hungry and greedy lips as he pushed back roughly against you, needing to taste you, feel you, or else he simply wouldn’t make it. 

Satoru tapped the back of your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso as you pulled away slightly, questioning him as he scoffed at your doubt. 

“I spent a year getting bigger and stronger for you,” he murmurs against your lips, “and the first thing you said when you saw me was oh. Come on,” he nipped at your lips, his boyish and charming smile growing when you whimpered, “Test me out.” 

You gave in, standing on your toes as you did what he asked, and you let out a little laugh of surprise at how he wasted no time wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he smirked, going away from the ball as he led you to your bed, basking in the sound of your twinkling laughter as you admired him in all his glory. 

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you tease and he snorts, fixing your gown as he hovers above you. He was huge, so much bigger than you anticipated in your imagination, but it was so much better than you ever could have thought. 

“I’d never lie to you,” he promised, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips that left you breathless as he continued downwards, pressing kisses down your jaw, and your neck, spending time as he sucked at one of your vital points, enjoying the way you sounded like you had run a marathon. 

He looks stunning here; his lips look bruised and swollen, pink and wet with spit. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of your body, and if you weren’t crazy about how he looked at you, you would’ve shielded yourself away in embarrassment. 

But he didn’t give you any time to think it over, pushing past your loose nightgown as he pressed delicate pecks to your shoulders and upper chest region, looking up at you to make sure it was okay to continue. 

You quickly nodded, eager to see what he was going to do. 

“Mind if I take this off?” He asks, tugging at the ends of it as you look at him from beneath your lashes, trying to feel indifferent as you shrug, but the way you smile giddily gives away just how badly you want him to. 

“I wouldn’t mind.” You help him move it upwards, your arms coming out from the sleeves as the chilly air hits your naked skin, and you suddenly realize just how out in the open you are compared to him. 

Out of second nature, you go to cover your chest but he tsks, gently pushing your hands away as he eyes your breasts, looking like he had just come back from staring at the sistine chapel with the way he looks at you. 

Your nipples harden from how cold it was, and he slowly dips his head down to one of your tits, kissing the soft and supple skin as he inches closer to your bud, finally latching his mouth onto it as you throw your head back, arching your back into his lips as he sucks like his life depends on it. 

“S-shit, ‘Toru, so good,” you mewl, wrapping your hands around his neck as he flattens his tongue against your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive area as you whine even louder, not seeming to care if anybody outside your door could hear. 

His other hand lathes onto your other one, not wanting to leave her unattended as he pinches your nipple between his two fingers, twisting it just enough to make you shut your eyes at how good the attention feels. 

“Let me hear you,” he groans into your skin, looking up at you as you try to cover up your mouth with your hand, “I’ll stop if you cover up that pretty mouth of yours.” 

You simply nod, leaving your shaky hand to grip your bed sheets as he switches his mouth and hand with each other, giving you different sensations to wrap your hands around as you feel a deep part of your pulse, needing more of him. 

“‘Toru, please,” your voice comes out shaky as he releases your tit with a pop, his hands going down to hold onto your hips as you bring his chin up for another kiss of swapping spit with him, growing to appreciate the lewdness of it all as you lay feather light kisses on his jawline, feeling him shudder beneath you, “Wan’ more.” 

At any other time, he would have drawn this out, would have teased and prodded at you to use your words, to tell him where you needed him most, but he couldn’t wait with you, wanting to have a taste of you himself. 

So his wolfish grin comes back, his hand traveling down your stomach, stopping just above your mound as he cocks a brow at the way you seem to grow impatient, reaching the place you seemed to have in mind. 

“Here?” He asked quietly, his pointer finger moving to find your clit as you let out a quiet gasp, his expert fingers having nothing on your inexperienced ones. Sure you’ve touched yourself deep into the night when you made sure everybody was asleep, but it never felt like this. 

You couldn’t speak, so you nodded again, and that seemed to be good enough for Satoru as his finger moved down to your lips, a deep groan coming from within his chest as he felt how wet you were, and prodded his finger at your tight walls, slowly pushing past them as he seemed to be in a trance. 

You sucked him in so delightfully, pulsing against his as your slick stained his finger, making it easier for him to fuck you with a little bit more pace, careful not to hurt you, as he brought it back up to circle at your clit, trying to find what places you liked to be teased most. 

“O-oh my god,” your eyes rolled back in your head as his long find pushed back against your gummy walls, his other thumb finding your nub as you whined even louder, not used to feeling this good, spreading your legs out even further as you tried to make room for him. 

“There you go, s’perfect,” he said against your skin, dipping down as he moved a hand to keep your thighs further apart, “Mind if I have a taste?” And you were in another dimension, just cradling his neck as you pushed him to go further. 

He chuckled darkly, nearly going insane as he neared your glistening pussy, eyes growing dark as he moved his fingers away so that his tongue could have its turn, and you swore you almost came right there. 

He licked gingerly, savoring you first as he groaned, his thumb never giving up on circling and massaging your clit, but he began to eat you out as his life depended on it, licking and sucking like you were his last meal. 

“‘Toru, ‘Toru, fuck!” You screamed, biting your lip harshly as you kept your finger tight around his hair, “Don’t stop, please!” 

“F-fuck,” he murmured, coming up for a quick breath as he looked at you from his long white lashes, “Fucking kill me if I ever stop, okay?” 

He goes back in with the same amount of fervor, your chest moving up and down as you arch into his mouth, your jaw going slack as you quickly feel that rope in your stomach tightening, embarrassed at coming so early but knowing that there was no way you could stop yourself with the way he fingered you out at the same time he ate you out. 

“I’m yours,” he said against your skin, “I’ll always be yours.” It was out of place, but it seemed like he was branding it into your skin so that everybody else knew, knew that he belonged solely to you.

It was too much, and you felt like you were slowly losing your ability to think, talk, or do anything, and the only thing you could feel was him, and you felt it all coming to a crescendo as his mouth latched onto your clit, letting it all go as you came into his mouth. 

“‘M c-coming, mmmm fuck!” You couldn’t even believe the sounds you were making as you clenched around his finger, your essence coating his chin and hand as your legs were trembling, glad that he held a stable hand on your waist. 

You saw white for a couple of seconds, taking even longer to catch your breath, your tits rising and falling with each heave, and you suddenly felt like you came back down to earth, peeking out from an eye to see Satoru smiling down at you, his face soft and you whined in shock at what just happened, hiding your face into one of your pillows as he laughed lowly, the sound dripping down your ears like warm honey. 

“You just came around me, no need to be modest now.” He gently moved your face away from the sanctuary of your pillow so that you could look at him again, and he leaned down, pressing one final kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him as you let out a muffled moan. 

“How do you feel?” He asked as he pulled away, sitting on his haunches, letting you drape the blanket around your sweaty chest as you tried to sit up, shaking a bit as you tried to recover from your mind-breaking orgasm. 

“Good,” you say groggily, wiping at your eyes as you give him a lazy, languid smile, “Really good.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, chuckling as you nod, finding his hands as you play with his long fingers, and he lets you watch as you let them entangle with each other, somehow feeling more connected through this than the previous activity as you slowly pull him back down towards you, wanting nothing more than to curl into his chest. 

“Give me a second love,” he wanted the same thing, but he pulled away, “Let me clean you up.” 

You didn’t fight it and let him go, watching as he found the pitcher of water on your desk as he found a clean rag and wet it, coming back to your bed until his eyes caught something under the sheets. 

He picked it up, reading it as he sat down next to you, running the cold towel across your thighs as you let out a little whimper at the temperature. He pressed an apologetic kiss to your forehead as he turned the paper around in silent questioning. 

Your eyes widened, trying to take it away but he held it above your head. If you had more fight in you, you might have wrestled for it, but you gave up, letting him clean you up as he tried not to laugh at how measly it was. 

“I doubt Cambell would know how to make you come.” He finally says, throwing the rag away somewhere as you groan, pushing his face slowly away as you try to fight the giddy laugh that was going to bubble its way from your chest. 

“Stop! Lily was just trying to help!” You argue and he waves his hands, loosening the buttons of his tunic as he crawls in next to you, pulling you flush against him as he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“It’s fine love,” he nestles his nose in your hairline, smiling when you hitch a leg over his, “You’re mine now.” 

You look up at him, tracing over his features with the light touch of your fingertips as he leans into your warmth. 

“Do you promise?” 

He gives a single nod, sliding the delicate ring over your finger, and closes his hand around yours. 

“Promise.” 

[pfhwrittes]

have some domestic price x gender neutral reader fluff that floated into my head.

pairing: john price x gender neutral reader

word count: 711

tags/triggers: domesticity, fluff, humour, pet names (love), mild bashing of the reader character's sister, slightly older than canon john price, long term relationship, no Y/N, 2nd person POV.

a/n: unedited as per usual. please don't interact with my writing if you're under the age of 18 despite this being a fluffy little something. also, i'm not judging people that want to get married or have kids, you do you but this is for those of us that don't want either of those things.

"john, what do you think about getting married?" you ask as casually as possible between sips of tea as your long term partner perches on the sofa next to you, his eyes focused on the liverpool game on the telly.

"i think you called it a "monument to compulsive monogamy and heterosexuality" and then you swore loudly about henry the eighth for twelve minutes on our first date." he replies before groaning loudly as his team bungle a free kick.

you smile into the rim of your mug because, yes you did say and do that when he brought it up all those years ago.

"mm, i know. one of my better rants i think."

john's hiss of triumph as one of the little red shirts on the screen peters off into discontented grumbling as half time is called and you place your mug on the coffee table.

john turns to face you when you settle back into the deep cushions and you trace the salt-and-pepper in his beard with loving eyes. if there's one thing you can say about retired captain john price it's that he's only got better with age, much like the whiskey he has stashed in the spare room/office. forty six is a damned good look on this man.

"what's got you asking about marriage, love?" john questions you with a raised eyebrow and you grumble, curse your overly observant partner. even when he's distracted his mind is still turning over every interaction and sniffing out a motive.

you sigh.

"my sister is having a baby."

"christ, really?" he looks so scandalised that you laugh at his expression. it's a familiar one when the topic of your younger sister is brought up, a combination of bafflement and mild disgust that pulls his mouth down into a frown even as his eyebrows reach up towards his hairline.

"mm." you make a noise of agreement.

"with the estate agent?"

"yep." you pop the 'p' obnoxiously.

"christ. she's only known him for five minutes," he shakes his head disapprovingly before reaching for your hand to give it a squeeze, "but what does this have to do with us getting married, hm?"

you shrug a little helplessly as he strokes his thumb over your knuckles.

"i don't know, i just started thinking when she sent me a copy of her scan and -"

"of course she did." john interrupts you with a weary sigh. "your sister is nothing but a self centred cow and i'm positive she sent it to you to get you to feel bad."

he looks at you, pinning you in place with a fond sort of sternness that you had seen a few times before when kyle had been over for dinner espousing his worries about being the right man for the job.

"listen to me when i say this, yeah?" he taps your knuckles with his thumb gently to make sure you're fully focused on him, "i'm happy exactly as we are, love. i don't need a bit of paper telling me that we're bound together for the rest of eternity. god knows we already are, what with the mortgage and the bloody cat."

"be nice john, she's a sweetheart." you chide as you glance over at your middle aged tortoiseshell moggy curled up on the armchair.

"she's a bloody demon and you know it." john snorts good-naturedly as the cat in question makes a noise similar to a creaky gate at the sound of his voice.

he releases your hand so that he can reel you into his side to press a kiss to your temple.

"stop trying to distract me with the cat and stop focusing on your bloody sister. you've never wanted to get married and that's one of the reasons i love you, you silly arse."

the small knot of worry you'd been carrying since the start of the conversation unwinds and you release a long breath, taking the opportunity to snuggle into his side more comfortably.

"i love you too."

john simply presses another kiss your temple in response as the football match starts again and you settle in to enjoy an evening with your not-husband.

(tomorrow you'll threaten him with a rolled up tea towel after you find that he texted your sister off your phone calling her baby scan a "badly made lasagne".)

[devotioncrater]

the levels of repression in both house and wilson…yet they are opposite of one another. house routinely makes gay innuendos (whether sexual and/or romantic) towards wilson, yet wilson doesn’t take him serious at all.

and this constant rejection from wilson is both a buoy as well as a giant wall. house pushes their relationship time and time again. wilson refuses to let the nature of it change. house brings up a romantic getaway, wilson shoots him down. house sabotages wilson moving out, wilson doesn’t stay. house allows himself to be The Other Woman regardless of how bonnie or wilson’s other ex-wives feel. in a way, it boosts his ego and makes him feel special. he is allowed to have wilson in this way.

amber is an extension of house; she is house in a woman’s body. house can accept it because he has expressed before that if wilson were a woman, they would’ve been married already. so why can’t the same be true for wilson? let him find a woman version of house. house loves wilson so much that he goes into a risky surgery to try and save amber. this is his Place simply because wilson and him cannot escape the confines of compulsive heterosexuality.

and it is compulsive. wilson never feels good enough or secure enough in a relationship outside of his and house’s. he cheats, he lies, he manipulates. all because at his core, wilson’s insecurities render him into a selfish person. he has affairs and he prioritizes house over his wives, because he doesn’t feel like his own wants/needs are met by his wives. or that they should/deserve to be met. he doesn’t know how to communicate them!! he maybe even feels guilty for having them. because even to house, he communicates these desires in metaphors or pranks or whatever other indirect way he sees fit. but the difference between house and his wives is that wilson has no tangible, legal sense of obligation to house. if house doesn’t meet his expressed needs, fuck him!! they don’t owe anything to each other!! the rejection will sting less.

wilson chases women on such a compulsive level that it’s nearly a reaction to whatever house has done. it’s affair after affair. wilson moves in with his patient during the time house is on a ketamine treatment. house, his patient who seemingly no longer needs vicodin. no longer needs him. if wilson is no longer needed, he parasites to the next host. why? because he doesn’t know who he is on his own. why? because he has trouble expressing his own core needs as a person. and as a result, these core (repressed) needs seep out sideways.

so why threaten this sense of safety he gets with keeping house at a platonic level? if they were to entangle into a relationship, wilson would be wrapped under an Obligation Gauze. there is a fear he’d lose house because, historically, all of his relationships end in loss. because, historically, he cannot express his needs to his partners due to his fear of rejection.

and then wilson becomes terminal. and then death becomes bigger than an anxious fear of loss/rejection.

“i need you to tell me that you love me.”

wilson, my brother in christ. house cannot say those words to you because for all the years you’ve known him, you’ve denied him it. the only way house can tell you that he loves you is by burning his home down and faking his death. he is nothing without you. you know it as well as he does. these things remain unspoken because that is the way you’ve molded the relationship to be.

wilson has house on a leash. house runs as far out as possible until the leash yanks him back. when wilson finally trusts house enough to let him go off-leash, house is too conditioned to act as expected.

and this conditioning in house is not just wilson’s doing. it’s primarily house’s own doing. his own self-loathing chains him to wilson’s side. as an addict, yes, but also as a support system. house hates himself so viscerally that it affects every interpersonal relationship he has, including with wilson. but wilson never, ever leaves no matter how bad it gets.

also. who else other than wilson gives him a sense of bodily autonomy? not stacy, not cuddy, not his fellows. wilson doesn’t pity him. wilson enables him. wilson lies for him. house will selfishly keep wilson forever because wilson is all he reliably has.

so house can push and prod wilson into gay romantic/sexual innuendos, but when wilson yanks that leash, he’ll drop it. it’s a buoy for reality checking where he is with wilson. it’s a giant wall for enabling his self-hatred thought process that even his boy best friend has limitations to his love for him (or at least what is acceptable). addict line of thinking.

they both eat each other up like an ouroboros. where does wilson’s repression end and house’s begin?

[forestshadow-wolf]

Thinking about your post about soapghost settling their arguments by fighting it out: one day they have an argument about something serious, some sort of major life decision (retirement, marriage, kids, something like that and really the only reason its an argument is because one of them is scared shitless by the idea) and it ends up on the mats with them yelling arguments about why it is/isn't a good idea until one of them just stares at their partner who is yelling passionately about the life they could have together and just... let's himself get pinned.

👀 did I do good?

thankyou for this ask !!!! this actually rots my frickin' brain and I needed an excuse to write more for this using this ask to force the arguments post into my girl-dad au, but doesn't have to be read that way.

P.s. this is a long one. Imma put ot under the cut

I imagine, way way before they retired, they had married and long-since agreed to retire together.

they'd fought about retiring. Ghost didn't mind the idea of it, was waiting for it to happen actually. but soap, he had quite a few hang-ups about it. see, he'd joined the army at an early age, as soon as he was legal, which means he doesn't really have any civilian life experience. what if he's not ready, what is it doesn't work for him, what if he can't do it, what if, what if, what if...

they argued, it was one of the first BIG arguments they'd ever had. but it's fine, they had a system. they get one day to resolve it with words, if they can't solve it, they take it to the mats. the logic is if you really believe in your argument, then you'll fight defend it adequately.

it was evident when they ended up on the mats on the second day that they hadn't resolved it. There was a mutual apoken agreement that they don'ttake the argumentoff the mats once it entered. they traded blows just as frequently as they traded arguments.

hours later they were panting and exhausted, and still hadn't come to an agreement, and nor had either of them won. so for the first time ever, they had to put the argument on pause. the put it aside for the night, cleaned up, had dinner, and fell asleep in each other's arms. the next morning they were back on the mats.

there was some point, when they were locked shoulder to shoulder, sweat making their skin stick together, and they were too out of breath to hiss arguments at each other. there was a moment where soap could hear Ghost's breath come out shaky with exertion, but still he pushed harder. soap realized that this, Simon retiring with his Johnny, was really truly important to Ghost.

it's not like he didn't know that, but still, the revelation almost makes him falter. suddenly it's like every argument he made against it, became irrelevant. he breaks away from Ghost's hold, panting. in a brash decision he dives for Ghost's legs, he knows what follows will be a grab around his waist just before his back slams into the mat. the sound that reverberates through the heated, sweaty air is, however, surprisingly loud. he lays there, gasping for the breath that got knocked out of him, and lets Ghost pin him down.

After soap finally agreed to retire with Ghost one day, he starts thinking about it. Really thinking. About how he grew up in a large family, and even in the military his life has been revolving around moving parts and people. He thinks maybe he might want a kid or two, not as many as his parents, but one or two.

Ghost says no immediately after soap brings it up.

He's afraid he'll do a bad job, that he'll mess it up. Or even worse; become his father. I mean, how is he supposed to be a good dad of he doesn't even know what that means! Christ! He's just gonna mess them up! He's not cut out to be a father. All he's know is death and hurt. How is that supposed to translate into something good.

This one. This argument lasted even longer than the one about them retiring. This one lasted almost an entire week.

And again like last time they got one day, before they hit the mats. That one day, was the single most tense day on base. Neither soap nor ghost could speak to eachother without circling back to the argument at hand. And of course nobody was willing to break up the fight, lest they get pulled into it.

For the six days after that, they shed their responsibilities, and hit the mats. And it was viscous. Neither held back. They were evenly matched. One fueled by fear, and the other; hope or love, choose your pick.

Even still there was an understanding that once the argument entered the mats, it stayed there when they left, to be picked back up when they came back.

They were sent on one mission during that time, on the sixth day after they hit the mats. It was supposed to last to be easy, would take them less than a day. Of course something went wrong, because something always goes wrong. They both almost died, but through some ruck of luck they got out barely scathed.

The put their gear away, ate, and hit the mats again; despite how tired they were. And Ghost, the moment that ge stepped back onto the mat again, he knew. He knew that he'd do anything for soap. They'd almost died today. But they didn't. Infact, they barely even had any scratches on them.

But still he couldn't fight that instinct to fight, to push back. And still soap was smiling that damned smile. He was so sure of himself, so sure of that he could get ghost to say yes.

And rightfully so. Because one moment he was lifting soap to throw him over his shoulder, and the next he was the one on the ground, soap having used his own momentum to pull his legs out from under him.

And he could have fought it, his mind screamed at him to. But soap was still grinning, and he knew that there was no way he'd be winning.

Perhaps... perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps he could learn to be not like his father. Perhaps he could learn to be a dad. Perhaps there was a chance, with soap by his side, showing him how, that he would ruin the child or children that they got. Perhaps soap could show him how to not be like his father.

[galatially]

❝𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐣𝐨𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — i don't want to just be a passing ship in the night; what's that tradition about the bridal party? the groomsman and the maid of honor always hook up?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 8.4K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, penetrative sex, anal play, strangers to lovers, wedding shenanigans, groom & maid of honor shenanigans, slow burn, slight angst (it's me lol), honorifics (pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, baby girl)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — yay for this finally seeing the light of day! and i've been to two weddings now so i can write from experience and i'm excited all over again lol. this also was a behemoth so yay for that

The warm summer air kissed along the tops of your shoulders, skirting your coils along in its stride. The low hum of smooth jazz played behind you as you took a sip of the wine you’d been nursing for the better part of an hour and let out a breath. 

You heard your name. “There you are!”

Well, shit. 

You playfully groaned and turned to face your older sister, the soon-to-be Mrs. Samuel Wilson. “Damn it! I thought this was the best hiding place!”

Nikki chuckled and bumped her shoulder against yours. “You haven’t won a game of hide and seek against me since you’ve been born. Give it up.” She tipped her chin to the half full wine glass. “Sam said he saw you knock back two flutes of champagne and then you disappeared. You good?”

“Yeah. Well, no.” You shook your head. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” Nikki said, looping her arm through her yours. “You’re one of the best speakers I know.”

“I guess.”

Nikki knitted her brows together. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes flitted to the lilac sky. “Do you miss them? Mom and Dad?”

“You haven’t asked about them in years.”

You raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. I was just thinking earlier that you’re getting married tomorrow and that they weren’t going to be here. You’d think that they’d remember they have children for more than two seconds, y’know? Their eldest child is getting married, for Christ’s sake!” 

Arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you backward. Though you were several inches taller than your sister, the hugs she gave dwarfed you both. You circled your arms around Nikki’s waist and buried your face in the curve of her shoulder. 

“You’re such a worrier.” Nikki pulled back and put a hand on your cheek. “You are all the family I need to be here. Fuck what anyone else has to say about it.”

“But Sam — ”

“Sam loves me, with or without parents. He knew that coming into this relationship and hasn’t left yet.” Her lips pulled into a half smile. “Besides, who else is going to deal with me post-wedding?”

You gave her a flat look. “Your husband, dumbass.”

“Nope,” Nikki sang. “My loving, favorite baby sister will be.”

“I’m your only sibling, Nik.” You moved out of your sister’s embrace, a smile working its way to your lips. “Now you’re being gooey and that’s gross. We can’t let them know that we actually like each other.”

“Shut up. You love me.” A voice called to her from behind. “I’ll be right there!” She looked back to you. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” You waved her off. “I’ll meet you inside in a bit.” 

“Okay.” Nikki pulled you in for another hug. “Be quick.” She turned and walked to her fiancé’s proffered hand. His gaze found yours for a half a second before he gave her a soft smile. 

You loved Sam; he was the safe harbor that Nikki needed after spending the better part of her teenage and young adult life taking care of you. Of course, Nikki took it all in stride and assured you that she wouldn’t have changed her life for another one. 

But when Sam came into her life, there was someone else to share her burdens with. Someone to confide in with things you couldn’t understand. She found an equal, a man ready to include her in every aspect of his life. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner for Nikki. 

But a part of you — a small, insecure part you often had to force down — felt out of place in their world. You were the kid sister, the child Nikki raised when she was barely older than a child herself. What place would you have in her life once they were married? 

Yes, you’d been on your own for quite a few years since Nikki and Sam met but you always came back home to them. That would all change after Saturday. 

No. 

You were happy, ecstatic. This weekend wasn’t about you and your woes. It was about celebrating two people you loved most in the world. 

Sam called out to you, worry in his tone. 

“Coming!” You took one more look up at the sky before making the trek back to the hotel.

“Whose side are you from?”

You turned towards the voice beside you, your glass hovering in front of your lips. “Excuse me?”

A few errant black curls poorly masked deep-set and sharp dark eyes that burned into yours. Amused by your response, his lips quirked at the ends. “Are you from the bride’s side or the groom’s?”

“Oh.” You set your glass down. “Maid of honor and sister to the bride.”

Recognition colored his features, his index finger raised to you. “Sam told me about you!” 

Your brows pulled down. “That sounds ominous.” 

“No, no! I mean, they were all good things, I swear! Just —” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m messing this up.”

“Oh, most definitely,” you said, smiling. “But keep going. I want to see where this goes.”

He smiled and leaned in close, giving you a once over. “How about this?” He held up a hand. “My name is Joaquín Torres. My friends call me Joaco. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

A corner of your mouth quirked up as you took his hand and said your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“So is this your first? Wedding, I mean.”

“It is. None of my friends are anywhere near being ready to walk the aisle,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “You?”

His smile was bright as he playfully motioned to himself. It did something to you, prickled your skin and tightened your belly. “I’m a professional groomsman.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I don’t know what it is, but whenever my friends get married, they immediately think of me. I’m pretty sure I went to, like, seven weddings last summer.”

You held up your glass to him. “Impressive. Have you ever been best man?”

Joaquín smiled, his right cheek dimpling. “Not yet.”

“Same here.” You clapped a hand to your face. “I mean, that it’s my first time being maid of honor.” 

He laughed quietly. “You’re fine.”

“Please, talk more so that I can push down my embarrassment.” 

“Okay, uh, where are you coming from?” 

“Technically, I’m visiting from Georgia, but I’m from New York. Brooklyn.”

Joaquín raised a brow. “What’s in Georgia?”

You let out a half-scoff, half-chuckle, your index finger circling the mouth of your glass. “I just got out of a shitty relationship with this guy a few months back, so I impulsively took a remote position in Atlanta.”

“Well, that’s…interesting.”

“I have the lovely tendency to fall in love recklessly and hopelessly.” You took a long sip of your drink. “Even if I know that that person doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Beats being so oblivious that you don’t even notice when people like you and you spend most of your time pining over them just for them to say that they were flirting the whole time.”

“If I were flirting with you, you’d know,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. 

Your name left his tongue in a drawl. “Are you coming onto me?”

Your face warmed. You gave a weak snort. “Yeah, right. Don’t flatter yourself.” Joaquín’s knuckles brushed up against the back of your fingers. You gripped your glass tighter. “So, I guess that means we’re aisle buddies, huh?” 

Aisle buddies? Really?

“We are. I promise not to let you fall.”

You raised a brow. “Did you just quote Twilight to me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He tipped his chin to your glass. “Rum and Coke?”

“Jack and Coke. They only had spiced rum and I’m not a fan.”

“I love a girl who loves her whiskey.” 

You laughed. “You’d have especially liked me in college, then. I was a whiskey drinking machine.” You splayed your free hand along the top of the bar. “Was even known to dance on a few tables.”

“Now that I’d love to see.”

You knocked back the rest of your drink and put a hand on Joaquín’s knee, a smile creeping onto your lips. You were no stranger to a little harmless flirting every now and again. But here, with this bright, infectious man, your words could mean something headier. Something more…suggestive. “Those days are behind me.” 

“Well now I’m sad that I didn’t get a chance to see you in your prime.”

You rested your chin on your palm, giving him a once over. “We can’t be that far apart in age, can we? You’re, like, twenty-nine at minimum.”

Joaquín leaned closer, his cologne permeating your senses. “I just turned twenty-eight.”

“So, a year older, depending on your birthday,” you quipped, “good to know I’m not the only twenty-something in the wedding party.” 

You went back and forth like this for some time. You shared childhood stories of you and Nikki and he told you stories about his and Sam’s time in university. 

“You don’t peg me as the frat guy type,” you remarked at one point. 

“I get that a lot. I was a freshman by the time Sam and Steve were chapter president and vice president, respectively. ” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle passing his lips. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get in. I bullshitted through the rush questions and barely made it through the challenges but, somehow, I got in.”

You smiled. “And made a new friend as dorky as you are.”

Joaquín laughed. “Sam’s great. I couldn’t have asked for a better frat brother. I was really surprised when he asked me to be one of his groomsmen. I haven’t really kept in touch as well as I wanted to, but it’s been great seeing him and hanging out with him again.”

“That’s sweet. His best man, Steve, is the blond, right?”

He nodded. “They’ve been friends since they were in high school, I think. Their friend, Bucky, is also a groomsman.”

“I practically begged Nikki to have one of her friends or her sorors be her maid of honor and she looked at me like I was crazy.”

“Sam said that she basically raised you.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “He’s such a sweetheart. Our parents are narcissists, to put it plainly. They love each other fine, but they couldn’t extend that to us. At first, it was just leaving an eight year old Nikki in charge of a two year old for a couple hours every other week. Then, they wouldn’t come home some days. 

“Nikki made the best of it, though. She’d make sure that I never realized how bad things were until I was old enough to understand. By then, we were living with our grandmother and she finally got to be a teenager, you know?” You dabbed at your eyes. “She took it harder than I did. She knew our parents longer so them leaving hurt her more than it ever could me.”

“I’m sorry.” Joaquín put a hand on your elbow. “Your parents don’t deserve either one of you.”

You waved him off. “I know. I’m just glad that she gets her own happiness for once. Sam’s a good guy.” You gave a light shrug. “And he likes me for some reason which makes me question his sanity.”

“I’ve only known you for,” he glanced at his wristwatch, “a little over two hours and I like you.”

“You barely know me enough to say that you like me.”

“So let me get to know you, then. We have all weekend, don’t we?”

The DJ announced last call and you both locked gazes. Gooseflesh spread along your arms and your heart beat against your chest. Your hand was still above his knee, fingers splayed out wide. Your eyes were on him but focused on hazy thoughts in your head. What would his lips feel like if you touched the very tip of your finger against them? Your lips?

He was probably a great kisser. Dominant, needy —

“Hey.”

You blinked and snatched your hand away. “Sorry! I, uh — just a little tipsy, I guess.”

Joaquín smiled. “It’s fine. I was saying that it was getting late and I could walk you up to your room.”

“No, I’m good. The walk should sober me up some.” You stood up. “It was nice meeting you, Joaquín Torres.”

“You, too. I’ll be the best aisle buddy you’ve ever had.” 

“You’re going to hold that against me all weekend, aren’t you?”

He ran a hand through his curls. “I’m going to run it into the ground.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile creeping up on your lips, and turned on your heel to leave.

Despite being a tad bit hungover, you were still fairly refreshed.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Joaquín, your mind making him a feature in a hazy dream you half-remembered. There was a genuineness to him that you admired, a warmth that you wanted bask in for a long time. The way that he gave you his undivided attention as you rambled or even when you weren’t speaking made your heart flutter in your chest.

What was that saying about the bridal party and groomsmen at weddings? 

“Nice to see you again, aisle buddy.”

Speak of the Devil. 

Your lips quirked. “Good morning, Mr. Torres.”

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. Unlike the slicked back style from last night, the longer part of his hair was set in loose curls and fell in his eyes. The barest hint of a five o’ clock shadow lined his angular cheeks and jaw. He was so damn attractive. So unfair. 

“How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you.” He gave you a warm smile. “And yourself?”

You hummed as you lifted your shoulders in a shrug. “Pretty good.” You pointed a thumb over your shoulder. “Did you see the omelet bar the hotel has going?”

“I did. I got a veggie omelet and turkey bacon.” He held up his coffee mug. “Did you get any coffee? They said it’s Colombian.”

You shook your head and nodded to your teacup. “I’m weaning myself off of caffeine.” You tipped your chin towards the slip of paper beside his plate. “Is that the itinerary Nikki slid under everyone’s doors?”

“It is. On today’s agenda: ballroom dancing from noon to one; walking tour of the church from one-thirty to two-fifteen; the bridal party and the groomsmen go to their final fittings at three-thirty.” He shook his head and chuckled. “She’s efficient, your sister.”

“She’s been planning this day since she, like, was eleven.” You took a piece of turkey bacon from Joaquín’s plate. You didn’t react to the flit of his gaze as he watched you bring the food to your lips. You chewed slowly, innocently, your eyes on his. 

The faintest hint of a smirk played at his lips. “You enjoying that bacon, sweetheart?”

“Very much.” You licked your lips and threw him a bright smile. “You should ask Nikki her about her wedding binder. She started making it when she was in middle school and finished it before my junior year of high school.”

“Sounds like my cousin, Luisa.” Joaquín playfully groaned. “When she was thirteen, she and my mother spent an entire Sunday afternoon cutting out pictures from bridal and travel magazines and doodling in the margins about her perfect wedding when she got older.”

“That’s adorable.”

“So what about you? Any wedding binders stashed in an old bedroom somewhere?”

“I haven’t put much thought into getting married. I mean, I guess sometime down the line I’d like to get married but maybe not, you know? Maybe I’m not the settling down type.” You lifted a shoulder and looked to Joaquín. “What about you? Is there someone back home you’re ready to settle down with?”

“I don’t know about that but there is someone that I’d love to get to know better.”

You playfully bumped your elbow with his. “Do they have a name?”

Joaquín gave a conspiratorial grin as he raised his mug to his lips. “I’ll tell you later.”

Sam called out to you, cackling. “Lookin’ good out there!”

“Fuck off, Wilson!” 

You turned back to Joaquín, rolling your eyes as the dance instructor yelled for you to loosen up. When you stepped on his foot for the third time, you winced. “Sorry!”

He chuckled as he gave your hips a reassuring squeeze. “You’re fine, Y/N. Just breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes going back to your feet. You don’t know how many months you spent begging your sister to take you out of the dance portion of the reception. Even as children, you were so awkward that you didn’t dare try to mimic the fluid rhythms your sister and cousins displayed. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to switch partners?” You nodded towards one of your sister’s sorority sisters. “Paula is a much better dancer and she’s really funny.”

Joaquín threw his head back and laughed. “I’m sure she’s great but you’ve charmed me from the moment you very brazenly flirted with me at the bar. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

You snorted, small smile growing in the curves of your mouth. “Shut up. You flirted with me first.” 

“There’s that smile.” His fingers tapped your waist. “Follow my lead, okay? I’ve got you.”

The instructor clapped out another eight count and Joaquín swept you off of your feet, literally and figuratively. You beamed as you both glided across the floor, amazed that you hadn’t stopped the beautiful flow he was creating. 

“See? You’re a natural,” he said, pride in his tone. 

His warm gaze took the breath from your lungs so all you could do was nod. 

“All right, class!” The instructor clapped their hands. “That’s all for today! Great job!” They nodded to you and Joaquín. “Especially from you two.” 

Your face burned as your sister and her friends cheered. 

You turned to Joaquín. “You’re a saint, you know that?”

He waved off your words. “You’re not as bad as you think you are. Just got to let those nerves go.” He leaned in closer. “Did you want to grab lunch? There’s a little bistro near the hotel that I wanted to try. “

Nikki appeared suddenly, smiling at Joaquín. “You don’t mind me stealing your partner, do you?”

“Nikki — ”

“Don’t keep her away too long.” He’d said the words so casually, so easy. Like he’d been asked about the weather or what sports team he rooted for. “She still hasn’t told me more about her whiskey weekends.”

Your face warmed as your sister’s wide brown eyes found yours. “Whiskey weekends, huh?”

You ignored her, your eyes on him. “How about dinner instead? Seven okay?”

Joaquín’s cheeks dimpled as he smiled. “Seven is perfect.” He nodded to your sister. “She’s all yours, boss.”

“Bye, Joaquín.”

You grabbed Nikki’s wrist and dragged her towards the exit, her laugh echoing throughout the studio. When you reached the parking lot, you fixed her with a glare. “What the hell was that!”

She feigned surprise. “What?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She crossed her arms. “Joaco and I are —”

“So, it’s Joaco, now?” You groaned. “C’mon, anybody would have to blind to not see the way you two look at each other! He’s hot, you’re hot. What’s the problem?”

“Not the point,” you deadpanned. “I barely know him. We probably won’t even see each other after the wedding so what’s the point starting something we won’t finish?”

“Who says you won’t finish it? You literally told me last week that you were thinking of moving back.”

“He lives in the city?”

Nikki frowned. “Did he not tell you that? He and Sam work together. He used to live in Arizona but when Sam and Steve asked if he wanted to go into business with them, he relocated.”

That changed things. It had been easier to imagine a torrid coupling that ended with you never crossing paths again, but if he’d be living in the city — working with Sam, whose company wasn’t that far from where you lived — made your belly clench. 

“Huh.”

“Is that a ‘huh, I should listen to my sister for once and ask out the hot best man’ or ‘huh, I’m about to overthink everything because now said best man is going to be close’?”

You flattened your features. “You’re so funny.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across Nikki’s face. “And brilliant and all-knowing. Don’t forget that.” Her smile fell some and she gave you a solemn look. “You know I’m just messing with you, right?”

“I know.”

“Hey.” She put a hand to your cheek. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows canted. “Do what?”

“Make that face,” she gestured with her hands, “and start thinking that something’s wrong with you.”

“Isn’t there? I was with Dante for, what, six months? He’s probably the longest relationship I’ve ever had and I hated every second of it.” You pressed the heel of your palm against your forehead. “Maybe I’m not built for forever, y’know?”

Nikki gathered you into her arms. “You’re nothing like them, do you hear me?” 

“Maybe I am, Nik. Maybe all I want is the idea of someone but not the person themselves. I don’t want to do that to Joaquín. He’s so sweet and funny and I’m just —” 

She pulled back, a smile on her lips. “You have so much love and care to give and anyone would be lucky to get to be loved by you.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m your sister, I don’t have to spare your feelings. But should anything go awry, I’ll be there to protect you and help pick up the pieces.” She held up her pinky finger. “Swear.”

You chuckled and looped your finger around hers. “Swear.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Nikki had insisted on taking you shopping for a new outfit and you’d decided on a beautiful, form-fitting brown satin dress that stopped just above your knees and brown chunky platform heels. You kept your makeup fairly neutral and let your curls frame your face and hang down your shoulders and back. Around your neck were a simple gold necklace stack and gold rings adorned your fingers. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve built my ego tenfold.” Your eyes glanced around the restaurant. “You didn’t say how nice this place was. We could’ve gone somewhere cheaper.”

A wolfish grin curled at the corners of Joaquín’s mouth. “How was I supposed to impress you if I just took you out to a drive-thru?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Chivalry doesn’t die just because you took me to Wendy’s. But thank you for asking me out.”

“I’m surprised you said yes, honestly.” You scoffed. “Hand to God! You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know about that. You and Sam must work with some pretty cool clients at the firm.”

“You’re infinitely cooler, sweetheart. Trust me.”

You pushed down the elation at hearing the pet name and set the menu down. “Tell me about yourself.”

He leaned in close. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your family. Do you have any siblings?”

“No siblings. My dad owns a mechanic shop and my mom and aunt run a small restaurant in Phoenix. I was born in Sonoita, Arizona, this tiny place with less than a thousand people.” 

“Coming to the city must’ve been a culture shock.”

Joaquín chuckled. “Hit me like a fuckin’ brick, let me tell you.”

“So, how’d you meet back up with Sam? I remember you saying that you lost touch after college.”

“After university, I applied to, maybe, fifty positions with over a hundred different corporate firms and I was striking out left and right. Sam messaged me on Instagram a little while later asking to catch up. When he first asked me to join his firm, I tuned him down.”

“Why?”

He lifted his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Sam. He’s one of the best guys I know. But I didn’t want him to just give me a job, y’know?”

You nodded. “That’s fair but I don’t see Sam as being the type to hand out opportunities to just anyone. If he offered you a position, it’s because he believes in you.”

Joaquín smiled. “I suppose so.” 

Your server came back with your drink orders. He smiled at you, his notepad in hand. “And are we ready to order? We have a butternut squash risotto as one of our specials, if you’re interested.”

“That actually sounds delicious.” You looked to Joaquín. “Is it okay if I get that?”

“You get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned and you, thankfully, didn’t stumble over reciting your order. As Joaquín spoke to the server, you couldn’t help giving him a once over. He wore a navy blue dress shirt that looked painted on, the top three buttons undone. His curls were messily styled and falling in his eyes. His face was clean-shaven save for his goatee and mustache. His big hands were adorned with silver rings. Much like the first night you met, your mouth watered at the thought of those hands on you. How rough or soft they’d feel against your skin. 

His gaze found yours and he winked at you. You needed him carnally. 

“I think he likes you.”

Your brows pulled down. “What?”

“Our server. He hasn’t stopped looking at you since we got here.” He chuckled. “I can’t blame him.”

“You’re doing it again.”

He raised a brow. “Doing what?”

“Flirting with me,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Keep doing that and I’ll get the wrong idea.”

“Maybe it’s not the wrong idea. Maybe it’s right.”

“Look, Joaquín, I don’t know if it’s because of the wedding or if this is one of those rom-com scenarios, but I like you. A lot. But I’ve never been good at relationships and I don’t want to ruin whatever this is before it even gets off the ground.”

He put a hand over one of yours. “I’m willing to go as fast or as slow as you want to.”

“And what if you get tired of waiting for me?”

“How about we just get through dinner first, then the wedding, and we’ll meet each other in the middle?” Your food was sat down in front of you but his hand never left the top of yours. “If after this weekend, you don’t want to keep in touch, I won’t be upset.” He cocked his head to the side. “Okay, I might be a little upset but I’ll respect your decision.”

You nodded, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I can do that.”

“Good.” He leaned back into his seat and picked up his fork, his eyes still on you. “Now, I have an important question to ask you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay…”

“Do you like scary movies?”

“What’re you reading?”

You ducked your head between the pages of your book. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that!” 

“Sorry. I thought you heard me coming up behind you.” Joaquín tapped the top of your bare knee with a callused finger. “Must be quite an engrossing read.”

“Something like that.” You slid your glasses to the top of your head. “What are you doing up so late?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’m a bit of an insomniac. What about you?”

“Nerves.” You held your book up. “Figured I’d finish this book I found in my room.”

“Verdict?”

“I should’ve just gotten a drink at the bar before they closed,” you said, snorting. 

“We can crack open a bottle in my room if you want.”

You raised a brow. “You raid the mini bars at hotels?”

“God, no! That’s a scam waiting to happen.” A smile grew along his lips. “I bring my own poison.”

You raised a brow. “What kind of alcohol are we talking?”

Joaquín leaned in towards you, his voice low and husky. “I’m a whiskey man.”

God, you could get lost in his eyes. Where most people would leer at you or completely ignore you, Joaquín seemed to be looking to the very soul of you. You could’ve told him anything and everything, given him whatever he wanted. 

“And I think I have snacks from my plane ride here.”

You doggy eared your book page and stood to your feet. “Lead the way.”

Joaquín looped his arm through yours and led you down the hallway towards the main lobby. You both must have looked silly to passerby: both of you in pajamas, giggling like teenagers. You caught the elevator just as two people got off and you pressed the seven button. 

Once the doors closed, a tension filled the car. Every so often, one of you would shift your weight and the backs of your hands would brush against each other, both of you muttering hushed apologies to each other. 

Hazy, heated thoughts ran rampant in your mind. Out of your peripheral, you saw Joaquín leaned up against the railing on the right side of the car. Everything about him just oozed sexy: from the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and biceps, to how perfectly his curls fell in his eyes before he pushed it back with one of his strong hands. 

His hands. God, his hands. 

You shifted your weight again, discreetly rubbing her thighs together to diffuse the tension between your legs. The elevator music suddenly seemed louder and deafening. 

“…okay?”

You blinked and turned to Joaquín. He was in front of you now, his hands reaching for you but not quite touching you. Worry painted his features.

“What?”

“We’re on our floor.” His eyes skimmed your face. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, an apologetic smile on your lips. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.” You cleared your throat and stepped past him out of the elevator. The heat from his body laved against your back. You started towards the left before you turned to look at him over your shoulder. 

“I don’t know where your room is,” you said, your voice small.

Joaquín took one of your wrists in his hand and said, “I’ve got you.”

You decided that you loved the way Joaquín laughed. 

His eyes crinkled at the sides as he clutched his sides. Sometimes a small snort would pass his lips and it made him laugh even harder. He looked boyish, gentle. 

You were sat in the middle of his hotel room floor, the bottle of Jack Daniels between the two of you and the TV turned low in the background. You’d just told him about your first encounter with the Chuck E. Cheese mascot and how the poor then teenager got a swift kick to the groin by an eight year old. 

“God, that was great.” He dabbed at the corners of his eyes. “Do you make everyone you drink with laugh this much?”

You knocked back the last of your glass. “Not intentionally.”

“Funny and beautiful,” Joaquín said, toasting to you. “One of my favorite combinations.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“I only want one to believe me.”

“I want to try something. Is that okay?” He nodded. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“Yes.”

You crawled towards him and experimentally straddled him, your hands on his shoulders. Your heart was pounding and you were getting lightheaded but you held your resolve. “Kiss me.”

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in for a slow, hard kiss. His tongue laved the inside of your mouth and you moaned. Your fingers carded through his curls, pulling him closer to you. Teeth clanged against each other as lips were pulled between them, soft moans spilling into the silent void around you both. 

Joaquín pulled back. “I’ve been wanting to do that since that first night in the bar.”

You smiled. “Me, too.” Your eyes found the digital clock over his shoulder. “It’s late. I should go.”

“No,” he whined, caging you against his chest. “Stay.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “I can’t. Not tonight.”

His brown eyes brightened. “So tomorrow night?”

“Maybe. If you behave.” You disentangled yourself from his embrace and stood to your feet. “Goodnight, Mr. Torres.”

“See you in the morning.”

The morning of the wedding started slower than you thought it would have. 

You had been sitting in the makeup chair for ten minutes, waiting for Nikki to emerge from behind the folding screen set up in the middle of the room. The bridesmaids were getting ready in the suite next door and you and Nikki shared this suite. 

“You look beautiful.”

You turned and saw Nikki; her dress was beautiful: the sleeves were delicate lace and looked beautiful against her brown skin. The back of the dress plunged low and fed into the skirt that trailed behind her. She decided to keep her makeup and hair simple with a natural look and her coils swept up into a polished bun. 

You blinked furiously. “You look so beautiful but if I cry, I’m sure the makeup artist will murder me.”

Nikki chuckled. “Me? You look stunning.”

“Compared to you, I look like Ernie from Sesame Street.”

She rolled her eyes. “Take the compliment, you goof.”

You stood up from your chair and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too.” Nikki pulled back, her eyes misty. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.” You snorted.  “I’m serious! You might not think it, but you’ve been a huge inspiration to me.”

“Bullshit.”

Nikki laughed. “Remember when we went camping that one summer? With Granny and her boyfriend, Alvin?”

You nodded. “We went hiking while they were taking a nap and got lost.” You had wanted to go find a creek that you’d passed on the way to your camping spot. 

“You were, what, nine? Ten?”

“I was eight and a half,” you said, smirking. 

“We’d gotten lost and I got so scared. I started crying and I think I said Mom’s name.”  Nikki shook her head. “I was crying and tired and the last thing I wanted was to keep getting lost.

“But then you bent down and wiped my tears away. You were barely nine years old and you made sure that I was okay before we finally found a park ranger.” She put a hand to your cheek. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

“I said that we would always have each other. No matter what.”

Nikki nodded. “I know that our childhood was less than ideal, shitty at best. I know that outside of Granny, all we had was each other and that made our relationship a little more complicated than other siblings. But there’s not a day that goes by when I’m not in total awe of you.”

“Oh, yeah, my impulsivity and lacking love life are aspirational.”

“You’re one of the strongest people  I know,” she rebutted. “As much as I raised you, you raised me, too. You taught me about passion and determination. You’ve made me think outside of the box and go after things that I want. You showed me what being a kid was and how we shouldn’t want to grow up too fast. Anything I learned about self-love and confidence, I got from you.”

You tilted your head back. “The makeup artist had me in the chair for forty minutes, Nikki! I can’t cry off all of her hard work!”

She pulled you into a hug. “No matter what happens, no matter what stages of life we’re in, it’s always going to be us against the world. Don’t ever doubt that.”

You nodded against her shoulder. “I love you, Nikki.”

“I love you, too.”

A knock came upon the door and the wedding planner, Natasha, poked her head in. “It’s time, you guys.” A warm smile crossed her lips. “You both look gorgeous, truly.”

“Thank you,” Nikki said. She squared her shoulders and looped her arm with her yours. “We’re ready.”

You were all too aware of Joaquín’s presence beside you. 

It didn’t help that he looked downright sinful in his suit. Did he paint the damn thing on or did it just fit him too well? His hair was artfully messy, curls falling in his eyes. His knuckles brushed up against yours a few times, so soft you’d thought you imagined the contact. 

“You’re killing me,” he said against your ear. 

You arched a brow. “What?”

“It’s taking all of my self-control not to whisk you off to the church basement and have my way with you.” His voice was rough. “Remind me to personally thank your sister for choosing the dress.”

A triumphant smirk colored your lips. “Noted.”

The organ kicked up and Joaquín turned to face you. “Ready?” He held out his arm.

You nodded and looped your arm through his. The ushers opened the doors and you were met with the guests and white rose covered aisle. As you waited for the second to last pair of the wedding party to head down the aisle, Joaquín leaned in towards you again, his breath laving the shell of your ear.

“I won’t let you fall.”

The couple in front of you started down the aisle and you gripped onto Joaquín’s arm tighter. Once the others were further up the aisle, he took a step forward and you followed. Every few steps, you stole glances at him, your breath catching. Once you were at the foot of the altar, he held his arm up for you to stand beside the other bridesmaids and he crossed over to the groom’s side. 

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this lovely couple.”

Joaquín caught your eye as the pastor continued his speech. His happiness shone so bright on his face that you couldn’t help but mirror it. You like the rest of the crowd, were brought to tears by the Sam and Nikki’s vows and cheered like sports fans when they kissed as man and wife. 

As they were about to step down from the altar, Nikki pulled you into a crushing hug. She whispered teary thank-yous and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“I love you. So much.”

You looked over your sister’s shoulder to your newly minted brother-in-law. “See you for dinner in two weeks?”

Sam smiled and took hold of your wrist. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You needed an out. Quickly. 

Your speech at the reception had most of the room in tears and a few of the wedding party members congratulated you off to the side. When it was time for the waltz, the tension between you and Joaquín was smoldering and all-consuming. All you could think about was his lips on yours. 

Before Sam and Nikki made their way to the middle of the dance floor, Joaquín whispered in your ear, “You have two hours.”

“For what?”

“Until you’re mine for the rest of the night.” The noise that left your throat was suffocated by the cheers and applauds for the bride and groom but you knew that he heard it. He moved to go sit at his table before you could get the words off of your tongue. 

You kept up appearances as well as you could but during lapses in conversation, your attention wandered to Joaquín. He teased you, subtly biting and licking his lips or giving you quick once overs as he spoke to some distant relative of yours. 

Nikki and Sam gave were basking in their marital bliss and, thankfully, didn’t notice the two of you shamelessly flirting from across the ballroom. 

The evening died down and Joaquín offered to walk you back to your room. You agreed, ignoring the teases from Nikki and Sam, and let him lead you out of the ballroom. Once the elevator doors closed, his hands were on your skin. Hot, open-mouthed kisses scorched the curve of your neck and shoulders. Hands buried themselves into your hair, holding you firm against the man in front of you. 

You didn’t remember how you’d gotten to his floor without bumping into other guests or falling over each other, but you did. The beep of Joaquín’s keycard unlocking the suite door made your heartbeat kick up. 

“That dress is sinful on you, you know that?” 

“Wait, wait.” You pulled back. “Help me out of this dress. It cost a fucking fortune.”

“My pleasure.” His fingers deftly worked at the buttons on the back of your dress. Once the garment loosened against your shoulders, his fingers hooked around the straps and slid them down slow. Soft kisses peppered along the back of your shoulders. “Such soft skin you have.” 

You leaned into his touch, a soft groan falling from your lips. Cool air gave your skin gooseflesh and you shuddered. Your dress pooled around your ankles and you were clad only in your lingerie. You smirked at his sharp inhale. To know that someone as gorgeous as Joaquín Torres was taken aback at the sight of your half-naked body emboldened you. 

You tipped your chin. “Kiss me.”

He took your face in his hands and leaned in. His lips hovered over yours, barely skimming the flesh. He was teasing you, you knew that. What you wouldn’t have given to just melt into his touch and be the first to kiss him. But you cut your gaze between his lips and his eyes, silently daring him to make the move. 

He chuckled. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

You ran your thumb along the length of his hand. “Determined, actually.”

“You know that you could kiss me first.”

You let out a breathy sigh. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Joaquín smirked and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. His tongue laved across the top of yours and his moans vibrated through you. His hands brought your face closer and deepened the kiss. “Jesus, doll, you taste like heaven.”

You rested your forehead against his to catch your breath. You tried to think of something to say, anything to say, but your mind was fogged from kissing him. 

He moved you towards the bed and laid you down, kneeling in between your thighs. “I want to taste you.”

You shivered at his words. “Do you?”

One of Joaquín’s hands skimmed a languid trail between the valley of your breasts. His fingertips danced a trail along the soft expanse of your torso, earning him soft gasps and caught sighs. When his fingertips hovered above the waistband of your underwear, his brown eyes met yours again. “Or perhaps I should tease you? Make you beg?”

“I don’t beg.” Your voice was breathy, weak, as you spoke. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” He was mocking you, teasing just as you’d done to him moments earlier. His fingers dipped below the elastic, tip-toeing across the top of your pubic mound. Your hips bucked and his lips split into a cocky grin. 

“My, my, aren’t we eager?” The very tip of his middle finger hovered above your clitoral hood, tracing a half-circle along the skin. Joaquín looped an arm around your waist to keep you balanced and made slow, teasing circles against your clit. 

You screwed your eyes shut and sank your teeth into your bottom lip. A moan threatened to pass your lips but you stifled it. Your fists balled against Joaquín’s shoulders as ripples of pleasure surged through you. “Joaco.” 

“I can get used to you calling me that.” His lips trailed along the curve of your jaw. “I bet you’re all wet for me, aren’t you?” Two fingers entered your sex and made a come hither motion. A shock of pleasure rocked you and you let out a moan. “Love how wet you are for me.”

You tried to speak his name but garbled moans left your tongue instead. A warm slickness played at your clit and you let out a cry. 

“You taste so sweet, darlin’,” he said against you. “Bet I can make you come all over my tongue.” 

Your back arched off the bed and your mouth hung open in wild pleasure as Joaquín ate your pussy like it was his favorite meal. Your toes curled against his back and your thighs all but crushed him against you. 

“Fuck, Joaquín, don’t stop!”

He moaned against your sex, the sound of your wetness and his tongue lapping bounced off of the walls. He lifted up and smiled a devilish smile at you. “Such a good girl getting wet for me like this. Making such a pretty mess.” He nipped at your inner thigh and kissed the bruises he left behind. His thick fingers gathered some of your juices and traveled down to play at your asshole. He groaned at how pretty and puckered it was. “Such a pretty little hole.”

One of his digits pushed against the puckered hole and your back arched up again and a throaty moan left your mouth. 

“Fuck!”

“You like that, darlin’? Like when I play with your ass?” He worked his finger further into you and another cry broke from your lips. “Your pretty pussy is weeping. Do you play with your asshole when you’re alone, baby girl?” He kissed up your body, lips latching onto one of your pert nipples. 

You fisted the sheets and bucked your hips as Joaquín stretched and finger fucked your ass. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes and broken cries of his name filled the room. For a second, you remembered you were in a hotel room and that whoever was in the rooms opposite them could hear you getting absolutely destroyed.

Hope they’re enjoying the show, then.

Your belly tightened and your legs shook as your orgasm rushed through you. A broken sob ripped through you and you flattened on the bed, shivering and sweat-slicked. Joaquín’s fingers left your ass and he slanted his mouth over yours.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He pushed away tendrils of curls that were stuck to your forehead. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

You gave a weak chuckle. “You’re one of my brother-in-law’s best friends. The cosmos saw something in you. Take your pick.” You heard the clicking of his belt buckle and your mouth watered. 

“Think you can play a little longer, baby?” He lined himself up with your pussy. “Because I’ve been waiting to feel you around my cock for the past twenty-something hours.”

A wicked glint flashed in your brown eyes. “What are you waiting for, then, Torres?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He lined the head of his cock with your pussy and sank deep inside of you. You threw your head back in pleasure as your walls fluttered around him. 

“You’re real fuckin’ tight, honey. Feels so good.”

Your nails bit into his shoulders as you bucked your hips into his. “Fuck me, Joaco.” 

His hips moved against yours slow at first. He circled his hips and thrusted in and out of you at a torturous pace. He snickered at your needy whines and mewls. “Such a greedy pussy you have.” His hips snapped against yours and you gasped. “Makes me think nobody treats your pretty pussy like they should. Is that what it is, baby?”

Your head lolled from side to side and your words faded into moans. Then, his hips rutted into you at a brutal pace and a swelling orgasm built in your belly. Spots darkened your sight and one of your hands fisted his hair. “I’m going to cum!”

Joaquín took his lips from the hollow of your neck. “I’m almost there, baby, hold on.” He pressed his forehead against yours and rutted harder into you. When his thrusts got sloppier, he let out a groan and you felt his cock twitch inside of you as you chased after your own climax. 

He collapsed on top of you, hard pants mixing with soft chuckles. He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to the apex of your collarbones. “Nikki said something about you moving back to the city.”

You hummed. “She told me that you were planning to stay in the city.” 

“I technically moved back a few weeks ago. I haven’t told Sam or Steve yet.”

You brushed a few curls from his sweat-damp forehead. “I might need a place to crash for a few days until my stuff arrives.”

One of his hands gripped your ass, softly kneading the skin. “Or you could stay for as long as you want and we could see where this goes.” 

“You’re sure?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve never been more sure about anything else. I meant it when I said that I think you’re incredible. If I can keep you with me for as long as I can, I will.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

“Seriously?” He cupped your cheek, your name a light chuckle on his tongue. “You want to try with me?”

As you opened your mouth to answer, a knock came upon the door. Joaquín groaned and rested his head against your shoulder. “It’s probably a noise complaint.”

“You go answer, then. It was mostly you.” You smacked him in the face with a pillow. “Fine, fine! I’m getting up!” You let out a low whistle as he padded across the room, completely naked, and went to open the door. You couldn’t hear who the other voice was but you figured it wasn’t serious from Joaquín’s belly laugh. 

“Who is it?”

He shut the door and came back into view, your sister’s bouquet in his left hand. “I don’t know if I should laugh or be offended.”

You rolled your eyes. “They think they’re so funny.”

“I don’t know, baby, maybe we’ll be next.” Joaquín set the bouquet on the nightstand and climbed back into bed, pulling you against him. “I think we’d make a great married couple.”

“Let’s get through me staying with you before we jump straight to marriage, Casanova.”

“You didn’t say no.”

You smiled. “We’ll discuss it.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — not gon' hold y'all, this made me fall in love with joaco something fucking fierce

[depressedtheatrekiddo]

Steddie kinda famous AU(?) | Genderfluid Stevie <3 | Eddie is a rat man and I laugh at him (I would probably be like that if I was Steve Harrington husband but that's not about me) | Live laugh love Stevie | Pushing the history teacher Steve agenda because he's a variant of Hob Gadling >:D

[I'm sorry if it has errors it's been a while since I had written something in English (it's not my first language) so whatever mistake I have feel free to tell me and I'll edit <3]

. ° — ° — 🌟 — ° — ° .

Corroded Coffin seemed to be popular, things were getting better for them, they still had to do part time job because of that 'what if?' but things were going well. Definitely.

In an interview they asked about a song, the meaning. And the shit man Eddie Munson is, he answered with a grin on his face "That's about Stevie, as most of them".

And the fans went crazy, trying to find someone with that name in the Corroded Coffin set or working at some usual bar they played at.

"They is a history teacher" Eddie Munson told the world in another interview "and we are married" he showed the camera a ring he had next to his guitar pick on his neck, he had the biggest smirk on his face.

Then Corroded Coffin were guests of a fundraising gala, they were asked to play at it to attract more people. It was a fancy gala tho, everyone was in their bests dresses and all.

"This one's for my beautiful angel there, who looks as gorgeous as always" And Eddie winked at a special balcony of the vip guests.

Most of the public saw Eddie laughing softly, but they didn't know why. In that balcony a lovely brunette in a marion blue dress gave the guitarist and second voice of Corroded Coffin the middle finger as he had a stupid lovely gaze on their face while she blushed a little.

"Yeah love ya too sweetie" Eddie chuckled before starting with the show.

Later at the gala people saw Eddie Munson next to the tall brunette in that marion dress.

"So are you Eddie's girlfriend?" An interviewer asked, he looked at Stevie with those eyes Eddie didn't like.

But Eddie laughed as he waited for Steve's answer, that was going to be good as hell, they had the bitchy face on.

"Not a girl" Steve smirked "And definitely not his girlfriend, nor boyfriend, nor partner" She looked down at the man, who seemed so little compared to them "He's my husband"

"I am" Eddie smiled so stupidly in love as he looked up at Stevie, who usually wasn't that tall but with the black heels they was wearing today the difference was more than usual.

"Uh— Yeah" The interviewer looked at different places to get outta there

"You got any problem with that sir?"

"N-no it's perfectly fine ma'am— I mean sir— I mean—"

Steve snorted "Come on darling, let's go somewhere else without this kind of people"

And where Stevie went Eddie followed

The amount of edits with the song 'walk em like a dog' after that gala were more than years the Earth has.

"Teddy, look, another one" Steve chuckled as she showed Eddie his phone.

"Stop with that, you menace" Eddie laid down on the couch, next to his significant other, trying to take their phone away playfully.

"Erica is going to bully you so bad" Stevie giggled.

"And Red too" Eddie sighed "Jesus Christ, Stevie I am like that always?"

"It's cute"

"I hate you" Eddie muttered as Steve put on the baseball match of today.

"Love you too sunshine" She smiled softly as they started playing with Eddie's hair.

[nerdygaymormon]

The LDS Church & homosexuality

Some church goers are uncomfortable that I identify as gay. They think how my Creator made me is somehow against God, but I’m allowed to stay in my church because I’m single and celibate which means I am following my church’s teachings on sexuality, which also matches historical Christian teachings on sexuality.

You know who isn’t following those historical teachings? Straight couples who use birth control. Also breaking the historical rules are straight couples where one or both of them divorced a former spouse.

By historical, I mean the majority Christian understanding of the past 2000+ years. But we don’t even have to go back that far. I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (which I’ll refer to as “the church” or “LDS Church”), let’s look at some of it’s more recent teachings & practices: 

In the 1960′s, at General Conference it was taught that using contraception was a gross wickedness. 

In the 1980′s, the LDS Church told bishops not to issue temple recommends to married couples who engage in oral sex.

Even up to 2020, the Handbook said church members had to consult with their bishop before getting a vasectomy or tubal ligation because this was seen as a moral issue since it would prevent them from having more children. 

This is not ancient history! 

Over the past 50 years, the church has liberalized sex for straight married couples. Current LDS policies are that birth control is considered a private matter for the married couple to decide and bishops are instructed not to ask married couples about their sexual behaviors. Oral and anal sex, or any other sexual act that may not result in pregnancy, are no longer considered moral dangers which the church needs to stop straight married couples from exploring. As one friend of mine described it, once you’re married, anything goes as long as there’s consent from both partners.

————————————————————

For gay couples, there’s been a little bit of movement by my church, but nothing like what has happened for straight couples. 

Gay individuals are now allowed to call themselves “gay” without getting in trouble, they’re allowed to date and hold hands and kiss without having to confess or have their church membership put in jeopardy (unless you attend the church’s schools where you may get punished for those behaviors). However, for gay couples, marriage or sex will both bring discipline and possible expulsion from the church.

————————————————————

The Biblical viewpoints on sexuality come from a time and culture that valued women for their ability to produce children. Infant mortality rates were high and overall population growth was slow. Any kind of sex that couldn’t result in a pregnancy was forbidden (even if not the intent of the original text, that’s the interpretation made by Christians and taught for centuries)

Today, infant mortality rates are low, life expectancy is high, and the world’s population is at a whopping 8 billion (it first reached 1 billion in 1804, 2 billion in 1927, and has continued to expand at a quickening pace). The reality of our lives has changed.

Biblical understandings of orientations were very different from today’s. Even modern understanding has evolved as prior to the 19th century, the concept of a sexual orientation was absent from Western culture. 

————————————————————

Let’s take a look at the evolution of the LDS Church’s positions on homosexuality.

Labels

In the 1960′s church leaders took a hard stance against even identifying as gay. Calling yourself gay or a homosexual could result in excommunication. 

In the 1980′s, the church separated having gay feelings from behaviors. Feelings and attractions were no longer a sin, just the behaviors. However, what labels queer members should use was still a hot topic. Same-sex attraction was the preferred label.

I remember being told in the 1990′s that the terms gay, lesbian, or bi should only be used as adjectives to describe behaviors or feelings, not people. People were encouraged to say they experience same-sex attraction (SSA) and not call themselves gay. 

While calling yourself lesbian, bi or gay is still not encouraged, in 2016 the church finally said it’s okay to do so.

—————————

What causes someone to be gay

The church taught people developed homosexual feelings due to a variety of reasons. These reasons changed over the decades, but here are some of the things the church taught as causing homosexuality: masturbation, sexual abuse, wearing gender non-conforming clothing, or even just talking about homosexuality. In other words, having gay attractions was a mental disorder for which someone needed help. 

Gay people have been disagreeing for decades, explaining we didn’t choose to be gay and it isn’t the result of abuse or other such causes, it’s just how we are.

Since 1990, there’s been a steady accumulation of research to show that a person’s sexuality is determined before birth. Yet the church resisted change. Recognizing that it’s previous statements on the causes of homosexuality conflict with the research, in 2006 the church stated that it has no opinion on what causes someone to have homosexual attractions. 

In 2010, Boyd K. Packer taught in General Conference that since God’s Plan is for men & women to have sex with each other in a marriage, God wouldn’t give people same-sex attractions without a way to change them while also prohibiting them from being able to act on these attractions. "Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" That is a damn fine question to which the church has yet come up with a good answer. It leaves the church in a quandary that it acknowledges people are gay, they don’t choose to be gay, and they can’t choose to not be gay, and yet they're still prohibited from having sex or getting married

—————————

Reparative/Conversion Therapy

Given the way the church thought about what causes someone to be gay, it’s little wonder it also taught someone could be ‘cured.’ The 1960′s saw a big increase of statements from top leadership in the church teaching this.

In Sept 1969, the BYU Psychology Department begins electroshock aversion therapy research against ‘sexual deviancy.’ 

In 1978, gay students who attend BYU are still required to do conversion therapy, but no longer will aversion therapy be used.

In 1992, the church discouraged leaders of local congregations from encouraging members to change their sexual orientation from homosexual to heterosexual as that generally leads to frustration and discouragement.

In 2016, the church created the Mormon and Gay website which declared conversion therapy or sexual orientation change efforts are unethical. It seems that it’s around this time that BYU ceased conversion therapy 

It took until 2019 for LDS Family Services (the church’s therapy arm) to say it no longer tries to change a person’s sexual orientation, in other words, no more reparative therapy.  

—————————

Mixed-orientation marriages

In the 1970′s and 1980′s, gay men were actively encouraged to marry a woman with the promise this would "cure" their homosexuality (the church is focused on gay men while barely showing any concern for lesbians). I suppose this could be seen as another attempt at reparative therapy.

In the April 1987 General Conference, Gordon B. Hinckley said marriage shouldn’t be used as a way to cure homosexuality. But for men who were able to have some attraction to a woman, or who had a great desire to be married with a family in spite of who they are attracted to, mixed-orientation marriages were still encouraged.

In 2006, it was stated mixed-orientation marriages are no longer encouraged as therapy or a solution to deal with homosexual feelings. It’s a little more expansive from the 1987 statement which was only about using marriage to cure homosexual feelings. While this is the official policy, many leaders still encourage gay people to enter mixed-orientation marriages, and not just at the local level. David Archuleta shared in 2022 that an apostle had encouraged him to marry “a good girl.”

Mixed-orientation marriages don’t have a good track record, even for LDS couples, about 70% of them end in divorce. This is why I think the church stopped encouraging them.

—————————

The fight against gay marriage

In the 1990′s and 2000′s, the LDS Church’s fight against gay marriage invoked the fear that if gay marriage was legalized, within one generation the world’s population of humans would be wiped out. 

Somehow they thought homosexuality was so alluring that everyone would choose it and no more children would be born. Makes me wonder how many repressed gay men were in the ranks of the church leaders. 

Once gay marriage was legalized, the church moved to explain why it still wouldn’t allow gay marriages among its members. Here’s some of the attempts:

The church has continued to teach that God only approves of a man & a woman who are married and sealed together. They will sometimes refer to scriptures as if that settles the matter, but even a casual reading of those verses will leave a person wondering what they have to do with a gay couple, or why a verse about polygamy is used to support 1 man + 1 woman. 

With the growing acceptance of gay people and calls for change, in 2019 Elder Oaks introduced the idea that the 2 great commandments are in conflict and we need to not accept our gay neighbor too much because it would conflict with obeying the 1st command to love God. Later in a 2023 YSA fireside, Elder Oaks  backed off of the idea that there's tension between the 2 great commandments.

In 2021, Elder Oaks introduces the idea that the church is only about helping people aim for the highest degree of the Celestial Kingdom, and that requires a straight couple being sealed. Queer people can’t fit that, so they will go to a lower kingdom, and those are really good, so they’ll be fine. (it feels like an attempt to placate those who want more, like how the idea of civil unions was meant to satisfy gay couples and keep them from wanting to get married)

In 2023, Elder Oaks added the idea that everyone who “keeps their covenants” are assured of having a sealed relationship. I think this is his way of saying gay marriage isn’t needed because that won’t last and eventually after you’re dead you will get to be in a straight marriage so just be patient.

In 2023, a survey by PRRI shows that as of 2022 50% of active LDS members of the church in the United States approve of gay marriage. So I would say these attempts against accepting gay marriage are not yielding the hoped-for results 

—————————

Status of children of gay couples

In 2015, in response to the legalization of gay marriage across the United States, the LDS church implemented a new policy which forbids children from joining the church, or advancing in church, if one of their parents is in a gay relationship. Sadly, this mostly affected children who grew up in church as they were born to a couple in a mixed-orientation marriage which had broken up and the gay spouse found a same-sex partner. 

In 2019, as part of undoing the 2015 policy, it was shared that many exemptions to the policy had been granted since 2015, and that the policy against the children is no longer in effect.

—————————

Law of Chastity

For many decades, “acting” on same-sex attractions was considered against the law of chastity. Many took this to include not just sexual acts but also dating or even hugs and holding hands. 

In 2019, as part of undoing the 2015 policy which banned the children of gay couples from joining the LDS church, the statement was made that "immoral conduct in heterosexual or homosexual relationships will be treated in the same way." Many interpret this to mean dating, hand holding, and other activities that single heterosexual adults are allowed to engage in before marriage, these are now allowable for gay people. Not all local leaders agree with this interpretation, and in 2023 the BYU Honor Code was updated to forbid “same-sex romantic behavior.”

————————————————————

Within my lifetime, the law of chastity restrictions on straight couples have gone away as long as they’re married.

For gay people, the church now acknowledges they exist and it isn’t a choice to have these feelings. You may be allowed to date and hold hands and kiss but it is not encouraged because it can lead to a gay marriage.

Church leaders and members from a few decades ago would be shocked at the current teachings and practices of the LDS church in regards to sexuality, both for straight and gay people.

It is odd to hear church leaders claim the law of chastity isn’t subject to change, that doctrines never change, our teachings about homosexuality will never change, and yet we have a history of change. What's the point of being a church of continuing revelation if we say there will be no further revelation?

I hope for our leaders to receive "further light and knowledge.” We claim to be a church of revelation, so let’s get inspiration on how God’s queer children fit into God’s plan, on the blessings available to them, on how they bless the rest of the church, and their purposes in life. Let queer people have joy and hope in this life. 

[saras-devotionals]

Hi, I need some advice from a sister-in-Christ please.

It's a boy. Yeah, I know, all bad stories start like that but hear me out. I'm pretty good mates with this boy, he's an amazing person, so kind, really thoughtful, his heart is on fire for Jesus, he's funny, just a great bloke.

I was at a worship thing with him, and I just started sobbing on the floor (good times), and he prayed for me. Anyway, while he was praying, I just "heard" this voice, and it just said "This man is your future husband".

I've prayed about it a lot since, and I always get that same response, yes, you are going to marry this man. And that's all good and well, Your will be done Lord, but like, it's not going to be happening anytime soon... because like, I'm a young teenager, he's a few years older than me, his mum is my teacher, and I just don't want to ruin our friendship. I'm sure that God has a plan, so I'm not going to rush anything, His timing is perfect, but I just would like some advice for like waiting - because I might be waiting 10 years, I might be waiting 30 years, you know?

first off I wanted to thank you for being comfortable enough to reach out to me and thank you for trying to seek advice. now, I don’t personally know you so my first suggestion would be to continually ask for advice from other women in your life who are strong in their faith and able to offer sound advice.

I did notice you mention you’re a young teenager and this guy is older, I don’t know the specifics of course but please try to be careful in situations like these, especially at that age, a few years can make a huge difference then compared to later on in life.

as for the waiting, I can completely relate to you! I have a situation of my own with a guy I like. There’s a lot that I’ve applied to my life that I can pass on to you. The first is to let him lead, don’t try to make any of the first moves yourself:

'Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.' Song of Songs 2:7

This has always been a helpful scripture for me because it reiterates that it is not on my timing and, therefore, I shouldn't try to take charge of it.

Also, even with him leading, it must come from God. If his actions towards you seem in any way impure, talk to someone you trust about it and seek advice. A scripture that I always keep in mind when it comes to the guy I like is this one:

Jesus said to his disciples: "Things that cause people to stumble are bound to come, but woe to anyone through whom they come. It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble. So watch yourselves." Luke 17:1-3a

This has such strong imagery, especially coming from Jesus! It makes me super aware of my actions and those around me and how we must always strive for the purity of not just ourselves but everyone who sees us too.

More on the waiting: I know it can be hard—so hard! I struggle a bit with it myself, and it’s good that you’re reminding yourself that God’s timing is greater than ours! What I’d suggest is taking the time to be content with yourself and with God. You have to love and seek God with all your heart first and foremost above everything else (if you want, I can tell you some more about seeking God). Something that's been told to me before that stuck is: how can we love someone who's imperfect (aka other people or partners) if we can't completely love the one who is perfect (God)!

Here's some scripture about seeking God and I would also highly recommend reading the rest of Psalm 119!

'Blessed are those whose ways are blameless, who walk according to the law of the Lord . Blessed are those who keep his statutes and seek him with all their heart—' Psalms 119:1-2

Also, strengthen your relationships with other sisters too! Don’t focus so much on spending time with the guy and I’d also advise against spending time alone with him. Remember, our purity matters, and we are also influential to other people as I mentioned earlier. Here's another scripture to help with that!

'“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others. ' 1 Corinthians 10:23-24

I’d also advise against building up expectations or a fantasy of him, especially since you are set on believing he’s your future husband. This goes along with seeking God first because you don’t want to get to a point where you begin to idolize this guy and constantly think about him or a potential future relationship (you don't want to spend more time on him than your relationship with God). Live in the here and now! The future will come just as God has promised <3 (and just one last scripture to reaffirm the idolatry point):

'Therefore, my dear friends, flee from idolatry. ' 1 Corinthians 10:14

There’s so much more that I can discuss, and please feel free to reach out to me again if you need clarification on anything or wish for me to elaborate. I wish the absolute best for you, and I’ll be praying for your situation!

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Who Cares for You (m)

Guess who’s back with YET ANOTHER fic lmao. This is based on 2 prompts, one from @waterfallofspace and one from an anon, the prompts are kinda long to put here but essentially the idea was that Elijah comes to work sick and refuses to go home, so Greyson has to figure out a way to get him home and take care of him. THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPTS!! <3 This one was a little out of my comfort zone, and I LOVED writing it so I hope you guys like it :) A little over 3k words because I just cannot be concise, it isn’t in my nature lol. 

OH and if you’re the anon who sent the Greyson-centric prompt, I’ll be filling that one later this week >:)

cw: male, cold, coughing, light mess. 

Who Cares for You

In the five years Greyson had been the executive chef at Elliot’s, many thing had changed; he’d become a partner; they’d expanded into the storefront next to the original, tiny space; and they’d seen about a dozen cooks, servers, bussers, and dishwashers come and go. One thing always stayed the same, though: August was always, without fail, maddeningly slow.

Greyson was sitting in the office, throwing a ball against the wall while attempting to come up with the fall menu they were supposed to be rolling out in the next few weeks. Was it an urgent task? Definitely not. But, his cooks were on prep projects, his sous chef was sorting through the walk-in, and truly, he had nothing better to do.

Unfortunately, his creativity was about as lukewarm as the office today.

Just when he was about to say fuck it and click out of the near-empty word document he had open, Greyson heard his boss swing open the back doors of the kitchen and stomp inside.

“Christ, it’s hot,” Elijah said, pushing past the chef and into his seat in their shared office. “Is August always this hot?”

“I mean, I’m sure climate change doesn’t help,” Greyson said, cracking his neck and turning toward Elijah. He raised both eyebrows when the two of them locked eyes. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh, what?” Elijah asked, sitting down and turning on his computer. Greyson motioned to his own face, then at Elijah’s. “What?” Elijah asked again.

“You’re wearing glasses,” Greyson pointed out. “You’re not feeling well?”

“Oh. Yeah, I have a headache, didn’t want to put in contacts,” Elijah explained, pawing his nose with the back of his hand absentmindedly. He glanced again at the Chef, who had a cheeky half-smile on his face. “What?”

“Who the fuck gets a cold in the middle of August?” Greyson asked, laughing. Elijah rolled his eyes, then grimaced.

“Fuck off, Grey, I do not have a cold. It’s a headache. Not everything is a -,” Elijah cut himself off when his breath hitched, seemingly out of nowhere. “Huh! HUTSCHH-oo! Snf.” Elijah cleared his throat, and turned back to the Chef, high spots of embarrassment blooming on his cheeks. “A thing,” he finished, lamely.

Greyson snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, not everything is ‘a thing’, but this,” he gestured at Elijah’s entire presence, “is most certainly a thing. I’ve known you five years, Lij, you think I can’t tell when you’re sick?”

“What is this? What is happening?” Elijah turned his chair to fully face Greyson and gave him a look of disbelief. “Are we an old married couple now? You gonna start organizing my pills in little containers and making sure I take them with oatmeal every morning? Putting my coffee on the night before my early-morning shift down at the mines?” Greyson sat back, arms behind his head, and shrugged, clearly amused. “Do people still do the coffee thing? I thought that was eradicated by Big Keurig.” Elijah couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that. “For real though, boss,” Greyson continued, “It’s gonna be slow as hell tonight. If you’re sick, just go home; Mark can handle the front. Hell, Matt could handle the back, to be frank.” Greyson sat back up and clapped a hand on his boss’s shoulder. “No need for you to martyr yourself. For once.” An insult, but said without malice.

Elijah wasn’t having it. “I’m here. I’m not sick, I’ll take an ibuprofen. I don’t need you to mother me, Greyson, though God knows you love to do it.” He stood up then, clearly looking to finish his tirade strong, but instead crumpled to the side to muffle a volley of sneezes into his sleeve. “Huhh! HuhNGSTSHH-ue! HhDTSHHH-uhh! Hhh...HNSTCHHOO!” Elijah sniffled and looked up from his sleeve at Greyson, who was clearly basking in the thought of being correct. “Fuck off,” Elijah said again.

“I didn’t say a word,” Greyson said, holding up his hands to proclaim his innocence. “But I feel like you might want to bring these,” he handed his boss the box of tissues from behind his computer, “with you.”

Elijah looked, seemingly longingly, at the tissues before pushing past the chef once again. “Not necessary,” he said, opening the office door. “I have to go get inventory done.”

***

“Chef?”

Greyson snapped his head up at the sound of his sous chef’s voice and gave him a half smile and wave. “What’s up, Matt?”

Matt shrugged, leaning against the door to Greyson’s office. “Just checking on you. Thought maybe you’d fallen into a trance or something,” he said. Greyson laughed and swiveled his chair away from the computer.

“Nah, just trying to get this goddamn menu written, but I have literally not one single idea,” he said, pushing his hair away from his face. Matt raised an eyebrow.

“Why not have Elijah help? Don’t you guys usually bounce ideas off each other?” Matt asked.

Greyson huffed out a laugh and turned back towards the computer. “Elijah is currently ignoring me for calling him out. He has a cold and desperately needs to martyr himself on this, the slowest week of the year.”

Matt snorted. “Sounds like Elijah,” he said, picking at a loose thread on his chef’s coat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy leave early – well, unless you count leaving to take other people home sick.” The sous chef shrugged and pushing himself back to a standing position as Greyson slowly turned toward him, a look of bemusement on his face. “What?” Matt asked.

“Matt, you absolute genius,” Greyson said, pushing himself to his feet. “You just gave me an incredible idea.”

“About… the menu?” Matt asked, confused. Greyson placed a hand on his sous’ shoulder and shook his head.

“Not about the menu,” Greyson said. “Do you think you can hold it down tonight?”

“Uhh… yeah, Chef. I’ve got it covered. Are you...going home?”

“Not exactly,” Greyson said. With that, he swung open the doors to the dining room, leaving his bewildered sage in the dust.

***

Elijah slammed down his clipboard in frustration for about the tenth time that morning – there was no way in hell this inventory was going to get done today.

It had started fine enough; he’d inventoried the wine and beer relatively quickly, but once he got to the liquor his body apparently had other plans for him.

“HUHGSTCCHH-oo! HUTSCH-oo! Hhh...hnGTSHZUE!” Elijah sneezed into his rolled-up sleeve again and cursed himself for being too proud to take the tissues Greyson had offered with him. He wiped his nose gingerly on his sleeve, sucked in, and sat down on one of the thirty milk crates adorning the liquor room.

Much as he didn’t want to admit it, Elijah felt like garbage. He’d known for days that he was getting sick, and despite all of the preventative measures he always took it had bloomed into a Whole Thing, just like what he’d told Greyson it wasn’t. He would’ve laughed if he was thinking of it in hindsight, but in the moment he just felt miserable and sorry for himself.

Elijah went to stand and try to count the bottles once again, when he heard an unmistakable sound in the stairwell leading to the liquor room.

“Huh...UTSHH-oo!”

Elijah turned to face the closed door. Was that...Greyson?

Without warning, the door flew open, and there stood Greyson. Elijah had seen him only an hour before, but for some reason he looked different than earlier. Upon closer inspection, Elijah realized it was his eyes – they were rimmed red, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Grey? What’re you -”

“HUTSHH-oo!” Greyson turned to sneeze into his elbow. He shook his head as though to clear it and turned to Elijah. “Sorry, ’scuse me. I was just looking for you to help me with the menu – HUSHH-oo!” Another sneeze, and what sounded like a muted sniffle from the crook of his elbow.

Elijah couldn’t help but cringe. Maybe this was why Greyson seemed so adamant for Elijah to admit to being ill earlier; because he was himself. “Bless you,” Elijah said, his voice low and congested.

“Thanks,” Greyson said, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Sorry, not sure where those came from.”

Elijah swallowed hard to clear the cough he knew was forming in his throat. “Are you sick?” he asked, expecting Greyson to deny the claim. Instead, the chef just shrugged.

“Dunno,” he said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Just started out of nowhere. Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair and sniffling lightly. “I just came to see if you’d come help me with the menu, but I see you’re...busy. So I’ll leave you to it.”

Greyson turned to leave, prompting Elijah to call after him up the stairs: “If you’re sick, you should go hombe!”

Without turning to say anything, Greyson held up two fingers as an acknowledgment and headed through the door back into the dining room.

***

“HSTHH! USHH!! HTSSSH!!” Greyson barreled back into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes relentlessly.

“The fuck happened to you?” Matt asked, moving towards his chef with concern. Greyson shook his head and turned on the water at the sink.

“I’m playing the long game,” Greyson explained, leaning down to splash water onto his face. “I may have made a slight miscalculation though because holy fuck.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Matt asked, pulling some paper towels out of the dispenser and handing them to his boss. Greyson took them gratefully, and pressed them into his face.

“Well, like you said, Elijah will only leave if he thinks that he needs to take someone home. So. I’m going to be the someone he takes home.” Greyson pulled the paper towels off his face and looked at Matt with bloodshot eyes. “How do I look?”

“Crazed. Like a madman. What did you do? Spray yourself with pepper spray?”

“Ooo, so close. I snorted some white pepper.”

Matt’s eyebrows creased together and his mouth opened in confusion. Whatever question he had next clearly died on his lips at the incredibly odd admission from his boss. “White...pepper.”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, scrubbing at his nose. “I need Elijah to think I have whatever he has. Thus, white pepper.” He smiled at his sous, who was continuing to give him an unbelieving look. “What?”

Matt shook his head. “The two of you were made for each other, I swear to god,” he said, walking back to his station and picking his knife back up. “What are you going to do when he comes back up and you’re miraculously cured?”

Greyson chuckled softly in the back of his throat. “Trust me,” he said. “I’ve got this all under control.”

***

After another twenty minutes of attempting to finish inventory, Elijah gave up and stomped up the stairs. He knew he’d hate himself for it in a few days, but he just couldn’t fathom counting any more bottles with the absolutely insane headache that had bloomed in his temples.

While walking towards the office. Elijah allowed himself to fantasize about his bed. About wrapping himself up in a blanket, watching TV for hours on end, sleeping as long as he wanted. Was it pathetic? Yeah, maybe a little, but he always felt like it helped get through particularly difficult days.

When he stepped into the office, the first thing that struck him was Greyson, slumped over on the chair with his head in his hands. Elijah cleared his throat, and Greyson sat up.

“Shit,” he said, “sorry, boss. Headache.”

Elijah’s head pounded at the mention of a headache. “Do we have any ibupro – hh..hnnNGSTHH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side and attempted to stifle the sneeze, making the pain in his head explode.

“Bless,” Greyson said, and pulled out a container of pills. “Always stocked and ready. Want some?”

Without thinking, Elijah held out his hand. “Thandks,” he said, dry-swallowing four pills. Immediately, he cringed at the pain in his throat, to which Greyson gave a small grimace of solidarity.

“I feel you. Sore throat,” Greyson said, touching his own and pouring out some pills. He swallowed his with a sip of something from a paper cup, then dipped into his elbow to sneeze. “HUSSHH-uhh!”

Elijah sat down next to the chef and cleared his throat. “You should go,” he said, gently. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Greyson shrugged at his boss and turned back to his computer. “Nah, I’m alright,” he said. “Besides, I didn’t bring my car today, and I’m having my apartment cleaned. The woman who cleans for me doesn’t get there til noon, and it takes her a few hours to clean it.” Greyson smiled tiredly and said, “Thanks, though.”

Elijah swallowed around the pain in his throat and said, “I cand drive you. You cand stay at mby apartment for a few hours, too, if you wandt. I mbean, it’s like ten mbinutes from yours.”

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss. “Really?” he asked. “You’d do that?”

Elijah nodded and sniffled a bit. “’Course, Grey. Hhuh…” Elijah’s breath hitched then, and Greyson pushed the tissue box towards his boss, who took a few in anticipation. “HhhGTSHHH-ue! Huh! HUHESZCHUE!” Elijah sniffled again, his sinuses too blocked to attempt to blow his nose, and threw away the tissues.

“Bless you,” Greyson said again. Elijah just ignored him.

“Grab your backpack. Let’s go before the traffic hits.”

***

This is going to work, Greyson thought as they swerved through the city traffic towards Elijah’s apartment. I can’t believe this is really going to work.

After they’d left the restaurant – with Greyson waving to his staff dramatically and Matt rolling his eyes at the theatrics of this whole charade – Greyson had asked if Elijah could stop at Walgreens.

“Don’t want to use up any of your stuff,” he’d explained, though truly he’d wanted to stop because he knew in his heart of hearts that there was no way Elijah, King of Denial, had any kind of cold supplies at his place. Elijah had nodded silently, and stayed in the car while Greyson hopped out and shopped.

The issue was, he wasn’t exactly sure what kind of illness Elijah was dealing with – no clue if he had an oncoming cough, or a fever, or abject sinus pressure – so he was forced to buy pretty much the entirety of the cold and flu aisle. The cashier raised both eyebrows when he placed the mountain of medicine, tissues, and lozenges on the counter.

“Wow,” she said, “someone must have one hell of a cold.”

Someone sure does, Greyson thought to himself when he threw open the door to the car and saw that Elijah was once again stuck in a pre-sneeze.

“Huhh...hhh. Huh, huhhh…!”

“Uh, boss - ?”

“HhNGSTHHZUE! ITSZCHUE! Huh! Hhuh-GTSSHH-oo!” Elijah doubled over his lap to sneeze, and cringed into his sleeve when he was finished, clearly trying to figure out if wiping his nose on his sleeve was too gross when Greyson was going to be sitting next to him.

Greyson dug into the bag of supplies and pulled out a box of tissues, which he ripped open and handed to Elijah. The GM silently pulled a few from the box and blew his nose towards the driver’s side door before turning back to Greyson.

“Thangks,” he said, his voice low and congested. Greyson winced at the sound of it.

“Do you, uh… do you want me to drive the rest of the way?” Greyson asked, placing the bag in the back seat. Elijah cocked his head, confused.

“Thought you were sigck,” he said, sniffling. Greyson pursed his lips together not to laugh.

“Yeah,” Greyson said, biting his cheek at the complete absurdity of this situation. “Let’s, uh… let’s just get to your place.”

Greyson had white-knuckled most of the remainder of the drive, as Elijah seemed to delve deeper into illness with each passing mile. After one particularly harsh sneeze had almost propelled them into a semi, Greyson had nearly screamed, “Oh, Jesus Christ please don’t kill us!” to which Elijah just rolled his eyes.

Finally, they arrived at Elijah’s building and parked in the garage underground. They rode the elevator silently – with the exception of Elijah’s coughing and sniffling – to the floor of Elijah’s apartment, and continued their silence until they reached his front door.

Elijah opened the door and Greyson marveled, as he always did, at how clean and organized his boss’s apartment was. Even the large window in the sitting room was unsmudged by fingerprints or bird shit. It wasn’t like Greyson’s apartment as a dump, not by any stretch, but it was certainly a bachelor pad; Elijah’s, in stark comparison, was styled—cozy and lived-in, but everything in its place. It was a home.

“You seemb to have mbade a miraculous recovery,” Elijah rasped as placed his keys in the bowl by the door. “You sure you’re ndot just allergic to wooorKSHH-uhh! NGTSZH-ue!”

“Lij,” Greyson said, holding the box of tissues out for his boss once again and placing the drugstore bag on the kitchen table, “I made a miraculous recovery because I’m not sick.”

Elijah turned to the chef and raised an eyebrow from behind a tissue. “But...you said you had a headache. And a sore throat, and you were sndeez – INGSTZUE!”

“Elijah,” Greyson said quietly, stepping towards his boss. “I’m not sick.” He slapped a hand onto Elijah’s forehead and gave him an accusatory smile, eyebrows raised. “You are.”

“I’mb – HNGSTHH-uhh! God-fuckigg-dammit,” Elijah cursed, pulling away from his friend to sneeze, once again, into his sleeve. He ignored Greyson’s offer of the tissues this time, in lieu of sniffing, hard, and meeting the other man’s eyes with a watery gaze. “You lied to mbe.”

“Oh, please, don’t be so dramatic,” Greyson said, pulling the supplies out of the bags and placing them pointedly on the table. “I didn’t lie to you. I tricked you,” he smiled at Elijah and offered him a bottle of nyquil – a peace offering. “Big difference.”

Elijah took the nyquil tentatively, and gave Greyson a look of confusion. “I dond’t… I don’t get it. Why?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“You’re a good boss, Lij, and an even better guy. You drive your staff home anytime they’re sick – hell, anytime they’re even hungover. But you refuse to give yourself the same treatment,” Greyson took the nyquil bottle back from his boss and cracked it open. He handed it back, along with a bag of lozenges, and the box of tissues. “You care for everyone in that restaurant. Who cares for you?”

Elijah felt his voice catch in his throat, so he closed his mouth, unable to form a response. They stood there together for a moment – Greyson sorting medicines quietly, Elijah watching with his arms full of the cold supplies he never would’ve bought himself – until he was finally able to get the words out. “Thangk you, Grey.”

Greyson smiled as he looked up at his boss. “No need to thank me,” he said. “Now take your fuckin’ medicine and get your ass in bed. I don’t trust you to not work, so I’ll be out here guarding the door until I’m positive you’re knocked out.”

Elijah huffed out a small laugh. “Oh, fuck you,” he said without malice. Greyson laughed back, in earnest.

“Get some rest, boss. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

[loderlied]

what are zeke and the companions’ dynamics like? what are their first impressions of each other?

and why does minthara leave in act 3? (i mean the answer’s fairly obvious but it’ll sound better from you)

i uhhhhmm have to replay the game to give you accurate answers for everyone because a lot has changed since my first playthrough 6 months ago but i think the only ones that will stay relatively the same is his dynamic with shadowheart.

so, zeke and her are very enemies to ‘lovers’ basically lmao. zeke is skittish and extremely mean to everyone, but especially someone like shadowheart, who is not afraid to bite back against his bullshit, makes him act out. she offers him her last healing potion one time because he’s (as usual) more injured than her and he shatters it against the ground, thinking he’s being so clever by exposing her attempt to poison her.

when you ask him why he’s letting her stick around, or more accurately, sticking around her, he’d spit in your face, grunt and walk away, but really he comes to see her as a big comfort. someone who lost his memory like him. he almost sees it as distraction from his own memory loss, figuring out her ‘case’ so to speak. she’s also a cleric, and subconsciously i think zeke just deeply wishes for some healing, y’know. even if the wounds gortash inflicted/inflicts on him are not able to healed, it’s a nice thought i think. and most importantly: shadowheart, besides just seeing the wild freedom in zeke she never really had in her life and coming around to finding it absolutely beautiful like a raging storm is beautiful (her being afraid of wolves but then finding the beauty in them do you get it), sees that smart, fiery young man who gives 110% to everything he does. and she wants to believe that there is good in him, too. that he is a person. a person who is capable of loving her back. those last things are not true of course, but zeke is so extremely drawn to people who have a ‘i can fix him’ mentality about him, people who are good/things he could never be, because to some degree, he WANTS to be fixed. he WANTS to be normal and he wants to love and do things normal boys do. have crushes and go on dates and get married and have kids. but that’s him dreaming and really just hiding from gortash. he’s someone who hides in the shadows quite a bit, and this is no different. because if he really was capable of being the person shadowheart believes he could be, then he wouldn’t be gortash’s/the machine’s antithesis/archnemesis as the wild anymore.

i really like the ‘wolf who has been on the hunt for so long that its paws are bloody resting on a flowerbed temporarily and involuntarily crushing the flowers during this before getting up again’ imagery for them… like, zeke is not a good partner. he’s horrible. shadowheart i am so sorry… it’s like hugging a wall of thorns….

but again in between all this heartbreaking stuff there’s also lots of moments in which zeke genuinely gets close to feeling happiness for the first time in (t)his life (insert gortash seething behind the scrying eyes control board here) and also just. lots of shenanigans. zeke has 5 charisma and is just so painfully awkward and awful. sometimes he just crawls into her tent in the middle of the night and just like. watches her while chewing on his fingernails or something and when she wakes up and ask him what tf he’s doing he’s just like. ‘being…boyfriend…?’ like. god.

shadowheart about him is basically that one post that’s like. ‘yeah it’s rotten work. especially if it’s you i’ll fucking do it but christ alive’ and she NOTHING but pain and suffering for it!!! because that’s what happens when you get involved in that bullshit in any way sigh

also while gortash does not like this situation, he has no ill will towards shadowheart actually, that all goes to zeke as usual. he sees it for what is: zeke dreaming, attempting to hide from him in some way, pretending to be something he’s not. he punishes zeke for that alone. he will drag him out of the shadows into his searing light & their war as he always does.

he does have a conversation with shadowheart (in an emotional outburst she tries to assassinate him for what he did to zeke the night prior and he’s of course aware of her breaking in and all but lets her get through into his room in which he’s waiting for her with a cup of tea lol) and he’s basically telling her that he doesn’t care what happens to her, but that he won’t have to do anything about her transgressions tonight because zeke is going to kill her sooner than later. she ultimately stays with zeke and gortash, zeke expert 9000, is of course right, but again, does not give 2 shits about shadowheart, maybe even preferred this outcome because it caused zeke more suffering.

edit: they are so ‘i love you’ ‘it’ll pass’ coded. sorry

[kayhi808]

Perfect Match - 3

After arguing until I'm blue in the face, Bill insisted on personally returning me to my grandfather. He's so stubborn! I told him I could get to my grandfather's on my own. He refused to listen. "You realize you just kidnapped his granddaughter. You shouldn't be anywhere near my family. Like, ever again."

Bill takes his eyes off the road to look at me & squeezes my knee, "It'll be fine. Madison Square Park is public & in the open. Nothing will go wrong. C'mon Angel, don't tell me you're worried about me."

Shoving his hand off my knee, he laughs. "For being one of the best assassins in the world, you're not using your brain."

"Not one of the best. THE BEST." I glare at him & he continues to smile. I frown & turn away from him, staring out of the passenger window. I ignore him for the rest of the ride.

We get to the park & Bill grabs my hand, looking like a normal couple taking a morning walk in the park. He has his hoodie pulled up to hide his face. The scarring makes him more noticable. We turn the bend in the pathway & I see my father, grandfather & their men. I stop & pull on Bill's hand. "This is far enough. Go back to your car. Don't do this." He lets go of my hand & steers me forward, resting his hand at the small of my back.

The closer we get I see the murderous look on my father's face. I look up at Billy and the look is mirrored on his as well. My grandfather sees me & he frowns. He signals his men & they stomp towards me, and Billy pushes me behind him before they reach us. A fist is driven into Bill's stomach & I kick out at the man coming for me. Bill isn't hitting back, just blocking, so I get between them and throw a punch. My grandfather's men won't strike me. Bill keeps trying to shove me behind him.

"ENOUGH!" My grandfather steps up and I push Bill behind me. Grandfather cradles my face, "Piccola. He laid his bloody hands on you?!"

"This is from Dad! Dad hit me. Russo has been nothing but respectful, Nonno." Grandfather's head whips to his son, "We'll discuss this later." He pulls me to his side & to Bill, "You've been paid. The contract, completed."

"Yes, sir." He nods, turning on his heel to return to his car. He didn't even acknowledge me. With grandfather's arm around me, we all make our way to his cars. I sneak a quick look over my shoulder to see Bill turn the bend. As if he could feel my eyes on him, his head turns in my direction & I can make out his smirk & if I'm not mistaken, he winked at me.

*****

Grandfather took us out to his East Hampton estate. I know there's going to be yelling.

My father tried to get me to ride in his car with him, but Grandfather nixed that idea. I rode with him. He didn't speak to me, but he held my hand for the entire ride.

As soon as we got there, we followed him into the office. They each had their second in command & grandfather's security. As soon as we entered, Grandfather pulled back his fist & punched Dad in the mouth.

"Is this how you protect the family?! Huh!" Grandfather goes to sit behind his desk, leaving me & my father standing before him. "You try to fuck over one of the best assets out there? How quick do you think he'll pick up the next contract on our heads? He took your daughter for fucks sake! How does this show me you are making decisions in the best interest of the Family? Jesus Christ!!" Grandfather's gaze shifts to me. I know he's looking at my bruised face. I keep my face emotionless. "What happened with you and your father?"

My father is about to speak but is silenced with a glare from grandfather. "We disagreed on the type of husband I need."

"You will marry who I say you're going to marry."

"Piccola, you will marry in the best interest of this family."

"I understand that. Our interest in the Family differs as well. He wants a puppet that he can control-"

"And you want some lovesick lackey to follow you. Weak romance like all the other girls your age."

Standing up to my father, "I want a partner! An equal! Someone I can trust to have my back, not yours! This is for business, not love." Turning to my grandfather, "I want to run New York, Nonno." My father laughs out loud and I ignore him. "I understand that it has to be turned over to my husband, but if I pick the right man. We'd rule as a team. You know, I know our businesses inside and out. You've taught me everything."

"No one will follow you!" Sometimes I can't believe he's my father and not a spoiled child.

"They'll learn to. I've been proving myself. They'll trust me."

"The other families will think of us as a joke!"

"They already think of you as a joke." I was ready for his attack this time, but grandfather's security holds him back.

"Knock it off!!" Grandfather slams his fist against the desk. I bow my head trying to look contrite. "Your husband will be approved by me. I am still head of this Family."

"Yes, sir."

"I need to talk to your father. Alone." He walks around his desk to hug me. "I'm glad we got you back. Call the bar and tell them you won't be in. You'll stay here for the weekend with me. We'll return on Monday."

"Yes, Nonno." I leave to make the arrangements with work.

*****

I manage a number of nightclubs, lounges and restaurants for the family. Our "import/export" funds are easily filtered through our legit businesses. 11:11, our newest lounge is where im currently working out of.

I enter my office to find someone already in there. "Hey, Angel."

"Bill? Wh...um. How'd you get up here?" He cocks an eyebrow at me and I roll my eyes. "Did you hurt anyone to get up here?"

Shaking his head, "Everyone is in one piece."

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were ok. That things went alright with your family." Bill, with a finger under my chin, tilts my head to examine my jaw. "Your make up covers the bruise well."

Grabs his finger, "What do you want, Russo?"

"Go to dinner with me."

Shocked, "You kidnapped me."

He leans in & you smell the woodsy cologne on him. He whispers, "I could kidnap you again, but I thought I'd try asking you out first." I laugh out loud & he grants me with a genuine smile. "C'mon. You know you want to."

"Um, when?"

"When do you have the night off?"

"Not until Sunday or Monday."

"Good, I'll pick you up on Sunday. 7pm?" Types something into his phone, and you feel your phone vibrate. "That's me." He hangs up, slipping his phone in his pocket. He slides his arm around my back and his mouth captures mine. My hands land on his chest to push him away as his tongue seeks entrance. Instead of pushing him away, I fist my hands in his shirt and draw him closer. My tongue teases his and I hear him moan. His kisses becomes more demanding and he burries his hands in my hair.

There's a knock on the door and we pull apart. "Yes??"

"Y/N? The shipment they're delivering is the wrong order."

"Ok, I'll be right there." Turning to Bill, "I need to take care of that."

"First kisses are awkward. I wanted to get that out of the way." Now I do shove him away & he laughs.

I try to pull myself together. "You can see yourself out." Leaving Bill in the office, I go to straighten out this delivery. I just made out with my kidnapper. Wtf?

@idaofinfinity @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11

[redfurrycat]

⚽ Nick "Goose" Bradshaw Fic Recs 🔥

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

List of Ao3 Authors: Dracculaura ~~~ Indigofudge ~~~ Lacerta ~~~ Lesbiseresin ~~~ Orphan_account ~~~ Pollyna ~~~ Qin_ling ~~~ SaintClaire | Specter_Ross ~~~ Teacupivy ~~~ Vannral ~~~ Yellow_crayon.

> Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

peace was never an option by dracculaura {T}

/Goose/

working overtime

Goose considers turning in his wings if it means he’ll be spared having to listen to even one more rambly, sappy monologue about Ice’s eyes.

but it’s always the same

Goose spent twenty-five years thinking that it couldn’t get worse than his best friends, and now he feels like he’s being punished for tempting fate like that.

no fear, just faith by qin_ling {M}

/Goose & Icemav/

if you lead, I will follow

Maverick and Iceman stare at each other a lot. Goose despairs. Or; Goose is the best wingman.

no fear, just faith

“Why don’t you send him a letter?” says Goose. Maverick stares at him. “Why would I do that?” — Lo and behold, Maverick and Iceman still don’t have their shit together. Goose's distress knows no bounds.

Thats Me, Honey by orphan_account {T}

/Sloose/

“Dammit Goose, you couldn’t have splurged for a booth?” “Sorry, booths are reserved for people I plan on going steady with” “Aw sweetheart, are you planning on dining and dashing?” “I’m hardly dining Kerner. Can’t a man sip his coffee in peace? Is nothing sacred anymore?” "Quit your honking. I saw you through the window and thought I’d check in.” Or, 5 times Slider surprises Goose and +1 time Goose surprises Slider back.

and you moved me, honey by vannral {M}

/Sloose/

”Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Slider says somewhere on Goose’s left. His voice is gruff, flat and so deadpan it would be hilarious under any other circumstances but unfortunately Goose is stuck on this ride, too, so he can relate heavily." Slider and Goose are 200 % done with their pilots and their stupid pining. Goose also realizes he might care a lot more for Slider than he thought.

The Retirement Of Admiral Bradshaw by SaintClaire {T}

/Gooserole/

The Retirement Of Admiral Bradshaw

He’s been sitting back at his desk for almost half an hour before Beau kicks the door in. “What the fresh hell is this, Bradshaw?” And so, Nicholas ‘Goose’ Bradshaw, two-star admiral and wrangler for the best and worst naval aviators ever to fly, retires. Predictably, it leaves him with absolutely no fucking idea with what to do with himself.

Not An Admiral But A Ringmaster

Other people might think that it’s actually bloody difficult to be a one-woman show in a circus-sized family of idiot naval pilots, but Carole is just that good. Pete introduces her a whole day later to a sweetly-blushing Nick Bradshaw, and Carole’s family takes off from there. She marries Nick within the year in a beautiful tulle monstrosity that only the 80’s could have ever produced, and kisses her husband for the first time on the steps of the town hall. Pete cries. Goose cries. Carole laughs, and tips her head back to the sun as she hugs her boys tightly.

Goose and Pals by yellow_crayon

/Goosemav/

sweet but a psycho {T}

"Yeah, I know, Chester. I'm so sorry he crashed the test plane on top of one of your new program sites and-" Bradshaw Senior is in the middle of saying, one hand tugging absently at his collar, "Exactly, he's too reckless. Where do you think I get all my white hairs?" He expertly dodges Maverick's kick and rests his hand briefly on his partner's knee. Rooster's dad had stuck with the all-natural look, and at the tender age of forty-five, he's gone half-grey. Maverick on the other hand, doesn't have a single white hair on his uniformly dark head. Rooster suspects he may be using hair dye but has yet to turn up concrete evidence to support his theory.

I say a little prayer {G}

"Hey, I learned from the best, ok?" Rooster says over the radio after confirming their information with the base command center, "Trust me, sir. I got this. Gonna get you down to the ground safely. It's just a bit of funky weather." "Wait, who are you referring to as the best?" "Your old pilot." "Mav?!" Goose's voice finally cracks, panic flooding in. "Ice is the best, Maverick is—" He starts to say. There's a burst of static over the recording accompanied by the sound of someone loudly retching. "Dad, did you fucking throw up back there?!" Rooster shouts before remembering that the entire command center is eavesdropping, "I mean, er, sir, just hang in there."

hold me, baby (like a lover should) by vannral {E}

/Sloose/

’”C’mon, Goose, if you wanted me to show you good time, all you had to do was ask,” Slider drawls, his smooth voice taking a rough, almost husky edge.’ In which Slider and Goose have an encounter in the locker room and Goose comes to a shocking conclusion that oh shit, the feelings he has for Slider are more of romantic variety. Includes a lot of pining and sarcasm and supportive pilots who have their own show going on.

Family Dinner by Specter_Ross {G}

/Goosemav/

Rooster brings Jake to meet his dads Maverick and Goose. Jake is nervous, he wants to make a good impression. But when he breaks one of their plates, he's sure he ruined everything.

here in our bed (’til the morning comes) by vannral {E}

/Sloose & Icemav/

'”Are you sure?” Goose asks hopelessly, completely aware that he sounds whiny. The receptionist’s smile tightens. ”Very sure, sir,” she says, her tone still extremely polite. ”Two rooms, like I said.” Two rooms which – like she very patiently explained to him – also means two beds instead of four.' In which there’s Only One Bed™, both for Slider and Goose, and for Maverick and Iceman, because the RIOs won’t stand for their pilots pining anymore and can’t deny the affection for each other, either.

when the coast is gettin’ clearer by vannral {M}

/Sloose/

"It starts after Hop 31 and in retrospect Goose would like to point out he can’t be held responsible for not noticing any of it earlier because at that point, he’d been pretty much occupied. With straight-up not having a good time." In which Goose survives, there's something up with Slider and they both have to deal with their pilots. Or, five times Slider did something nice for Goose and one time Goose knew why.

our mighty wings by vannral {M}

/Sloose/

”Tower, this is Delta-324, asking permission to final approach… that you, Goose?” Goose gasps and nearly drops the clipboard, his heart slamming in his throat. ”Holy shit, Delta-324, Tower copy – Ron?” In which Goose becomes an air traffic controller after Top Gun and Slider’s a commercial pilot and they flirt over the comms much to the exasperation of everyone around them. They still have to deal with their own former pilots.

little taste of heaven by lesbiseresin {G}

/Gooserole/

“Go back to sleep, honey.” Part of Carole wants to push back. She’s the one who’s more used to waking up for this and Nick only got home from his deployment a few days ago. He deserves the rest. She opens her mouth to tell him that, but he shakes his head and lifts his hand to brush his thumb over her cheek. “It’s my turn.” (alternatively: a glimpse at the bradshaw family before it all)

the ships have come to carry you home by indigofudge {T}

/Platonic Goosemav/

“Here it is,” Carole says, bringing Mav’s wheelchair to a stop. Mav’s mouth is dry. He aches for another cup of water. “Carole, tell me something, and don’t lie to me.” “Anything, Maverick.” “How bad does he look?” Carole is quiet for a while. Then she comes around and kneels in front of Mav, taking both of his hands in her own. Her eyes swim with tears. “If I didn’t know any better,” she says, voice breaking, “I’d think he was dead.” Or, Goose is alive when they hit the water. That's enough.

Home is who I share it with by Lacerta {G}

/Goosemavrole/

Bradshaws get a house. Mav insists on giving them space, but the evidence of his love and care turns up everywhere. Or: the five times Mav goes all out to look after his friends, and the one time when Carole and Goose make their house a home.

tonight it’s very clear (‘cause we’re both lying here) by indigofudge {T}

/Goosemavrole/

Almost a year after Hop 31 left Goose disabled and medically discharged, Maverick uses his annual leave to stay with the Bradshaws in their Tennessee house. When he can't hide his insomnia anymore, Goose and Carole invite him to sleep in their bed with them, but it isn't long before they have to address the elephant in the room: What are they to each other? Or: Maverick, Goose, and Carole begin having late-night conversations about their relationship and Maverick's place in it.

Heaven Written. by pollyna {T}

/Sloose/

Five people, and five different occasions, who realise Goose and Slider are in love + one time they finally realise it for themselves (mostly).

wonder why i try to fight the chemistry by indigofudge {T}

/Goosemav/

Before Maverick can think better of it, he’s standing on his toes and kissing Goose's jaw. Goose’s pupils are blown wide. He gazes down at Maverick, lips parted. The dance floor lights illuminate him in all sorts of colors that travel over his hair and face. “Hollywood’s watching,” Maverick says, voice low. “Sorry. I shouldn’t—” “You didn’t do it right.” Goose leans down just the slightest bit and kisses him square on the mouth. * In the mid-90s, Hollywood and Wolfman errantly assume Goose and Maverick are dating. Is it really so errant after all?

hoping about this by teacupivy {T}

/Gooserole/

In a small town where gossip fuels anxiety, Carole's mom has the perfect groom picked out.

[bella-goths-wife]

Texts with slashers part 2

Micheal Myers

You: Michael I swear to god stop leaving bloody hand marks on my bathroom tiles

Michael: 🙄

You: that’s it, I’m locking you out tonight

You: you can sleep on the couch

Michael: 🖕🫵

You: not tonight you won’t

Bo Sinclair

Bo: I need help

Bo: I messed up

Bo: baby please answer

Bo: what happened to death do us part?

You: what do you want

Bo: I bet Vincent and Lester that I could hit an apple on Vincent’s head with a dart

You: Jesus Christ

Bo: he’s bleeding pretty badly…..

You: I’ll bring the first aid kit

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent: baby did you move my wax figures?

You:…..

You: maybe…

Vincent: why did you put them all in doggy position?

You: a demonstration for Bo of what your getting and he’s not

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas: honey did you put laxatives in Hoyt’s meal

You: no I would never do something like that

Thomas: then how come our internet search history say “how long do laxatives take to effect someone”

You: …..

Thomas: also why does it say “how to ask my partner if he wants to be pegged?”

You: …

You: April fools?

Thomas: it’s January

Asa Emory

Asa: darling where are you?

You: nowhere….

Asa: you know I’ll find you eventually, I love the thrill of searching for you

You: all that searching and you still can’t find the G spot

Asa: …..

Asa: you have 10 minutes to hide before I find you and fuck your brains out

You: it’s fine I’ll disguise myself as my clit, then you’ll never find me

Asa: 5 minutes

Baby firefly

Baby: If you could fuck any food what would it be

You: probably a cheesecake

Baby: nooooo brownie all the way

You: I’m offended you would choose a chocolate mess over a global delicacy

Baby:…. How dare you call it a chocolate mess

You: it’s a chocolate mess which has been sandwiched together

Baby: I’ve never felt the Urge to kill you more

You: you can’t joke about this stuff when your an actual serial killer

Otis driftwood

You: hey your mom made breakfast it’s sausages

Otis: shit I had a sausage I wanted you to have for have for breakfast

You: cocktail sausages are more of an evening snack than breakfast

Otis: ……

Otis: I want a divorce

You: we’re not married?

Otis: and we won’t be if you keep giving me attitude

[youngkofigyamfi]

LOVE OF A FATHER

Tribute to The Late Apostle Dr. I.O. Boakye-Yiadom (Former Chairman, CHRIST REVIVAL CHURCH)

Written By: MATTHEW BOAKYE YIADOM

I quite remember what my father told me the first time we entered the gates of Prempeh College in 2005: “Be careful with your belongings, else they will rob you and rob your soul as well.” I never understood what he meant until I completed college. I was born into a strong Christian home. My grandfather, was a Pastor (The Late Rev. James Boakye Yiadom Owusu). His bosom friend, my father’s god-father (The Late D.K. Brifo), was also a Pastor. It was under their guidance and stewardship that my dad also, called into the ministry, became a Pastor. At the age of 19 years, he had completed Bible College at the Ghana Bible Institute in 1973. He was first posted to the church at Denyase in Asante Bekwai and later transferred to Amakom in Kumasi.

My dad was a fine gentleman who was on fire for God. He gave his life to Christ at the age of 15, when he was schooling at Bawku Middle Boarding school. Ever since that glorious day, he never turned back. He told me a story of how he met my mom and got married to her. It was his parents who introduced my mom to him. My mother was a community Nurse who had been posted to the Bibiani District at the Government Hospital. She was approached by my grandparents after church one Sunday evening. They wanted to give her to my dad who was about to graduate from Bible College.

My dad, upon returning from Bible College was told by his parents that they had found a wife fit for him. Even though he did not buy the idea of parents choosing life partners for their wards, he did not want to disappoint them either. So he prayed to the Lord for a sign, to know if this woman was really meant for him. One day, he had a dream about this woman who was very delectable and was walking past her in a boulevard. This beautiful lady was walking in a sashay, and carried this pretty grin on her round face. He yearned to see that woman’s face in the dream. He said to himself in the dream, “This is the kind of woman I want to marry.”

He woke up suddenly to realize that it was a dream. Surprisingly, it was not a mere dream. My dad beheld the face of that woman he saw in his dream, the exact attire he saw, the facial expression and every tiny detail about her. Fortunately, for both my parents, the feeling was mutual. They got married and God blessed them with four beautiful children, of which I am the last. In 1992, he had to further his education in London at the Center for International Ministries (CIM). In London, he had the opportunity to serve as a pastor in one of the local churches. He was asked to bring his wife and children with him to the UK but he declined the offer. He came to London, not on his own accord. He actually was helped by benevolent family friends and the local church at Bibiani in Ghana, who donated money for him to go and study abroad to better himself and come back to equip the church with the knowledge he has acquired overseas.

Before he traveled to the UK, he held the position of the General Secretary of the Christ Revival Church, Ghana, a church founded by his god-father, the Late Rev. D.K. Brifo. I have heard stories of my dad’s relationship with Rev. D.K. Brifo. The Great man of God loved my dad as if he was his own. The feeling was mutual. It was not surprising when he stayed with him for most of his youthful years. He would wash his clothes, iron his shirts, and ran personal errands for him. He became his personal assistant in the church which made him the General Secretary.

My dad was a loving husband and a wonderful father. There was never a dull moment with my dad. Growing up as a toddler, my mom told me I used to worry my dad a lot, even to the extend that when he is preaching I’ll ran to him for him to carry me on his shoulders. My dad used to tell me stories that are life-relating, intuitive and thought-provoking. I’d end up asking him a lot of questions. I reminisce coming back from school to get surprises every single day. It became a habit. I loved and cherished my dad so much that when he suffered from a severe stomach problem after his trip from Israel, I could not eat because I noticed he wasn’t eating.

My dad was an ardent reader. He had a plethora of different Christian literatures, story books, and magazines. He spent most of his time at home in his office, sometimes reading, or taking notes for preaching. He did not like to be disturbed. I remember I would go to his office and he’d give me many exercises just to make me busy and allow him to concentrate on whatever he’s doing. Apart from being very friendly and playful with us, he was very strict with us. He would not beat us nor infringe pain on us, but he would shout at you and make you cry.

My brothers at a point were afraid to ask him for things. They used me to ask for favors on their behalf. We gave him the hidden nickname, “Last Killer.” My sister recalls, he was the last person to sleep, and he’ll be the first person to wake up and call us for morning devotion. Sometimes, when we want to wait for him to sleep so that we could stay up to watch midnight movies, he would be wide awake and glued to the TV. He was the patriarch of our lovely family. When he speaks, it is final. We revered him for his leadership qualities. Amongst his children, he did not have a favorite. He treated us the same, loved us the same and gave same opportunities to everyone.

We have shared lovely and funny moments together. I remember most of our morning devotions in our living room. As a kid, I hated morning devotions with passion. Those were the times that you can’t have enough time to enjoy your sleep especially at dawn when you have just started to dream dreams. During devotions, he’d teach us how to lead prayers, how to read Daily Devotional Guide, how to preach, and how to pray. He’d share the program for daily devotions amongst us. One morning, during devotion, I slept off whiles praying. My father shouted my name to wake me up. Startled, I woke up and began to thank God for how far He has brought us. They all burst into laughter. I was caught right there sleeping whiles they were quiet listening to my mum preach.

My father loved kids. You would notice how he reacts anytime he found himself around them. His affection for children at church gave him a nickname, ‘Osofo Gboza’. He liked to give kids knuckles as a form of handshake. He never discriminated, he never looked down on anybody. He approached people with decorum and the respect due them. So it was easy for people to approach him and talked to him about anything. He is the kind of person who does not look down on children or the youth. He has a good judgement. He always behaved in a manner that is worthy of a father, a leader, an elder, or a pastor.

I was born into a decent home. My dad never worked as a government official nor worked with a private organization. His only job was being a pastor. My mom supported the family with her pay as a nurse. My parents made sure we never lacked anything. They groomed us to always live within our means and not compare ourselves with others. We were happy with whatever God gave us. Gradually, the blessings of the Lord started showing in our endeavor in many different ways. I recall in 2005 when I completed Junior High School and got admission to Prempeh College, my parents did not have the means to take me to school. During the time, my dad had received money from IPHC to continue with the building of the Headquarters church. He was tempted to use part of the money to pay for my school fees. He said he could never do that, but then, went for loan.

He has been a blessing to a lot of people. Because of his benevolence and good name, he has fifteen grandchildren who are named after him. Some including males, females and twins. My dad was valuable to me. He bared a name so great that wherever I go, people respected and drew me to them because of him. I know I am the dead ringer for my dad. We had a lot in common. We looked much alike, talked, smiled, and walk alike. I was also very close to my dad. I became like a friend to him. My dad may not be perfect, but I will never trade my dad for any person in the world. No one on this earth can ever replace the love my dad had for me. The kind of sacrifices he made for me is incomparable.

When I decided to get married, my dad was the first person I told him. Coincidentally, he was the one who recommended my wife to be posted to the hospital where she now works. He blessed my marriage on my wedding day. He gave my wife the best gift she received on her birthday. He was the best dad in the whole world. Even on his sick bed, he never frowned nor became sad. He was very happy always, even to the point of death. My father died a peaceful death. The kind of death I pray will take me to heaven someday.

Every evening before he died, he requested the song, “God of Mercy” to be played to him before he sleep. It was one of his favorite songs. It has become my personal favorite as well. My beloved dad served the Lord in every capacity within his power and ability. I firmly believe that he is in heaven awaiting his crown from his maker. My life would be nothing without the love and guidance of my dad. He has groomed me to become a good man, a good husband, and a good father.

I witnessed first hand, the many times my dad had to forgo everything just to be with my mother and take care of her when she was battling sickness. My mother was always full of praise for him. My father had to sacrifice taking up many leadership roles and opportunities which included traveling overseas for other important assignments just to be close to my mom. Through it all, he never complained. He was a true definition of long suffering.

At a time he was being ‘persecuted by unforeseen entities’, he never complained. I could tell sometimes that it did worry him as a person, but he never coughed. He recounts the time he was the Secretary of Ghana Pentecostal Council and there was an issue that involved him, he said he cried bitterly. He never spoke a word. In the end, he was exonerated. Jesus said in Luke 6:26, “Woe to you, when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets.” He knew it all. Those who spoke ill behind his back, those who despite him, those who pretended they loved him, and those who diligently tarnished his good name. One thing I always pray to God to receive from my father; his good heart. He never let anything worry him. He never held grudges.

Isaac Akwasi Osei Boakye-Yiadom is a name that will never die from the surface of this earth. Revelation 14:13 says, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. “Blessed indeed,” says the Spirit, “that they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them!” My children’s children and my unborn generations will come to know this great man behind the great name! Together with Gifty, Mark, Luke, and myself, we say, “well done Dad.” You have fought a good fight, you have ran a good race, all’s left for you is the crown of glory your Heavenly Father will give you. We are grateful for your love. Before I end this, I would like to share these words from my heart to my lovely father wherever he is in heaven:

You may have thought I didn’t see, or that I hadn’t heard, life lessons that you taught me, but I got every word. Perhaps you thought I missed it all, and that we’d grow apart, but dad, I picked up everything. They are written in my heart. Without you, dad, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. You built a strong foundation no one can take away. I’ve grown up with your values, and I am very glad I did. So here’s to you, dear father.

- From your forever grateful son, Matthew.

#LoveOfAfather #yKG2024

[punmasterkentparson]

Playoffs

Notes: I’m cleaning out my WIP folder, we’ll see where it takes us.

Read on AO3

Alexei fancies himself a romantic—the sort of man who wines and dines his lovers before falling into bed with them.

Which is why the thing with Parson is such a disaster.

“My place?” Parson asks, after an accidental meeting in a Vegas bar and a thirty-minute conversation has Alexei still unsure whether Parson is flirting with him or trying to start a fight. They’ve got a game against each other tomorrow morning and Alexei already hates Parson’s guts. Sleeping with him is a terrible idea. But Alexei is coming down off a really bad breakup, one that he hadn’t seen coming, one that has left him so heartbroken and at a loss for the reason that he has caught himself getting short with his teammates when they so much as mention their significant others.

Alexei had thought she was the one. He’d expected to marry her. Clearly, they hadn’t been on the same page.

Parson is as far from a romantic encounter as Alexei will get. As Taylor Swift would say, he’s a nightmare dressed as a daydream.

“Sure,” Alexei says, and does one last shot before following Parson into a taxi and then into his apartment.

The sex isn’t friendly, but it is damn good.

(And so is the next day’s game: a nice, tidy win for the Falconers that leaves Alexei smirking at Parson as he watches him leave the ice.)

Which is why Alexei lets Parson into his apartment the next time the Aces are in Providence. There’s no alcohol this time, which means Alexei has the wherewithal to peel Parson out of his clothes while steering him into the bedroom. He’s still got both socks, an undershirt, and Parson’s button-up left to go when he pushes him to sit on the bed and sinks to his knees.

“Oh,” Parson says. “Fuck, yes.”

“Underwear. Off,” Alexei grunts while digging a condom out of his bedside table.

Parson shimmies out of his boxers and kicks them away. “Take your shirt off?”

“Why?”

Parson snorts, amused. “Because we’re having sex? I wanna see you.”

Alexei strips his shirt off. Then he rolls the condom on and goes to work.

Parson moans and arches and shudders while Alexei works his dick. His hands fist the bedsheets, and then one finds Alexei’s shoulder. “Stop, stop.”

Confused, Alexei pulls off and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Parson scoots up the bed, tugging Alexei’s arm. “Nothing’s wrong. I just changed my mind. I want you on top of me. Come on, get your pants off and get up here.”

Alexei gets his pants off and follows. He presses Parson into the sheets and rolls them together until they’re both gasping. But it takes a turn from sensual to frustrating; they can’t quite sync up their respective rhythms, and no matter how much Alexei tries to guide their hips with his hands, Parson refuses to follow.

“Hey,” Parson complains. “Stop manhandling me.”

“Because you move wrong!”

“Christ, roll over, I’ll do it myself.”

Alexei growls but he rolls over. Parson straddles him and gathers their dicks in his hand, not bothering to remove the condom. “Move with me.”

Alexei thinks its rich of Parson to demand what he wouldn’t do himself, but with Parson in control now, at least Alexei can literally lie back and enjoy the ride. Parson’s grip is firm and his body blushes gorgeously as he moves. Alexei grips Parson’s thighs and enjoys how they tense and shake when he comes.

He lets the thing with Parson continue because he’s got nothing better. He tells himself he’ll break it off when a real partner comes along—someone fun, smart, stacked. Someone he can see himself marrying and kissing at center ice when the Falconers win the Stanley. (God, he wants to win the fucking Stanley.) Parson’s good in bed and he keeps Alexei on his toes everywhere else—on the ice, on the phone, in the press—but he’s not marriage material. He’s just a good distraction.

Alexei wakes up one day and realizes he’s gotten distracted with Parson for almost two years. He thinks he should download a dating app; find someone new. And he means to, but the season is picking up, with the Falconers careening towards a real playoffs slot this year, and he hasn’t got the time. The only reason the thing with Parson has worked for as long as it has is because Parson is in the same professional sports machine as Alexei. They both get how it works. Alexei has always had to explain to his dates and his girlfriends (and boyfriends, if he’d ever allowed himself to openly have one) the infinite ways his job comes first. Parson doesn’t need to hear it.

The thing with Parson is working so far, and Alexei doesn’t have the time to find something better.

Playoffs are a nightmare. It’s the thing Alexei works towards for six months straight, and when it comes, it eats him and everyone else on the team alive. Time ceases to exist; he lives in a world of eat, sleep, hockey, repeat. His awareness boils down to his stick in his hands, the ice under his feet, and the puck on his tape. Every game is a marathon, and this year is particularly tough. Boston fights tooth and nail for five games in the first round, and Pittsburgh drags the second round out to six. 

“Good game,” he says to each of the guys in line. “Good game.”

The Conference Finals are against Carolina and are shitshow. Alexei feels like punching at least three guys in the face rather than shake their hands after the Falconers beat them, but he grits his teeth and repeats, “Good game. Good game,” even though he’s got a black eye to attest to the fact that it damn well wasn’t.

By the time Alexei is flying out to Seattle for a shot at ripping the Stanley from the Schooners’ greedy hands, he’s been bounced around so many generic Midwestern hotel rooms that he’s about to lose his mind.

Kent flies up from Nevada to simultaneously keep him company and keep out of his way. Alexei eats, sleeps, plays hockey, and has sex on autopilot.

“Sorry,” he grunts into Kent’s shoulder blades after yet another desperate, rutting, decisively unromantic performance on his part, during which he completely forgot to give Kent a reach-around. “Sorry is bad sex.”

“You’ll make it up to me,” Kent replies, unbothered, and wiggles out from under Alexei to find a towel and clean himself up. Alexei would feel worse about it if he wasn’t so damn tired, and if Kent hadn’t shut him out last year when the Aces were in their own playoffs hell. Everyone deals with the pressure differently.

Alexei buries his face in his pillow and passes out before Kent returns.

Seattle puts up a fight. To their fans they’re affable and chill, but on the ice they fight dirty. The finals go all the way to the seventh game, a vicious tug-of-war over points and shots and goals and several scrums over goalie interference.  Alexei drops his gloves twice in the fifth game and gets a talking-to from their coach before the sixth. He keeps his cool but it doesn’t matter, they’re back in Seattle for game seven, and Kent holds him like an octopus the whole night before.

Final score: 5-4 in OT. Poots scores the game-winner, and is promptly buried under his teammates. The next eight hours are a dizzying, euphoric whirlwind of yelling, hugging, drinking, dancing, butt-slapping, and then partying at two different restaurants and a bar.

Alexei stumbles back to his hotel room and into Kent’s waiting arms at 3am. Kent couldn’t come to the celebrations; he didn’t even risk attending the game. They’re both each other’s dirty little secret, and Alexei has been fine with that, right up until this moment.

He’s drunk on champagne and he kisses Kent stupid the second he gets in the door. And when Kent pulls away gasping for air, Alexei declares, “Next time, I kiss you at center ice.”

Kent’s breath hitches. He looks gobsmacked.

Alexei clumsily grabs Kent’s face in both hands and kisses him gently—or as gently as a drunk man who nearly fell out of his own Uber getting here possibly can. “Wish you there with me,” he murmurs. “Next time, yeah?” It occurs to him that he’s asking a lot, that Kent might not want this thing of theirs badly enough to risk going public, and abruptly he feels so scared he could throw up. (Although that could be the champagne.)

But Kent lets out a sigh that might be a sob and presses their foreheads together. “Yeah,” he whispers, like he can’t trust his voice any louder than that. “Fuck. Yeah. Next time.”

“Sorry not this time,” Alexei says. “Sorry is all bad sex and hiding in hotel.”

Kent groans and thumps his fist on Alexei’s pectoral. “You said you’d make it up to me.” He undulates his entire body up the length of Alexei’s, making Alexei gasp and moan and shudder. “So, make it up to me.”

Alexei does.