#is it going to be his massive you know what again?

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 31: Threesome

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Han Jisung x Lee Felix x reader

•

You’re not certain you’ve ever witnessed a friendship quite as comfortably intimate as that of Jisung and Felix’s. They’re inseparable in every sense of the word- finishing each other's sentences, always in each other’s spaces- and by default, always in your space. And it’s hardly a bother to you, who welcomes your boyfriend’s best friend with open arms, never having taken issue with their close proximity. They radiate pure sunshine all the same, almost stranger to the concept of jealousy. Your friends like to joke that you might as well be dating both of them- a concept you wouldn’t take issue with, either.

As Felix hoists his lanky figure over the mattress, assuming a spot beside you and propping one leg out over your legs, you maintain a knowing smile on your face, meeting Jisung’s gaze beside you. He shoots you a smile, too, glancing contentedly between your expression, and then Felix’s, scooting his body a little closer to yours on your bed, that’s just barely big enough for the three of you.

Jisung leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your shoulder in soothing motions, and then he glance at Felix, who reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“Are you staying the night again?” Jisung questions, craning his neck to catch sight of Felix’s gaze.

“I wanted to. If that’s okay?”

Jisung chuckles lightly, his lips pulling back to flash him a toothy grin, before getting comfortable on his pillow again.

“That’s fine,” Jisung replies. “Though I was hoping we’d get a little alone time for a bit.”

“Alone time?” Felix voices, his eyebrows furrowing in a confused state. “Just us?”

“Me and my girlfriend,” Jisung corrects him, chuckling lightly as he speaks.

“Jisung,” you interject, hitting him lightly as a scoff escapes your lips.

“What? It’s true. We just haven’t… done anything, in a little bit.”

“Because of me?” Felix questions, sitting up to shoot you an apologetic look. “I can just leave, if that’s-”

“No,” you’re quick to say, shaking your head at him. “Stay. He’s just being annoying.”

“Annoying?” Jisung teases, sitting up to hover over you, before leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “It’s annoying that I want to satisfy my girlfriend?”

He’s not discrete with his motions, his hand traveling down to part your legs as though he’s going to undress you right here. And Felix’s hand remains intertwined with yours, watching the events unfold as Jisung does in fact tug down the waistband of your pajama pants, to reveal your lace panties.

Felix’s nervous gaze remains fixed on your crotch, observing the way you squirm helplessly under Jisung’s figure when he ruts his hips lightly against yours to reveal that he’s already rock hard beneath his own flannel pajama bottoms.

“I always say black lace is her color,” Jisung tells Felix, looping a finger through your waistband. “But she’s typically more partial to red, or even pink, sometimes.”

“I’ll just go,” Felix practically interrupts, though he can’t seem to look away, swallowing nervously when Jisung’s hands travel down to his own pants, lowering just enough to free his throbbing erection. Perhaps he’d tell Felix to leave and give you both some privacy, if he wasn’t somehow more aroused at the thought of him bearing witness to all of it.

Jisung begins to trail a finger along his own boxers now, eager to do something about his massive hard-on, but before he can, Felix sits up in a panic. You mirror his actions, sitting up beside him as you watch his panicked gaze flicker between the two of you.

“Don’t go,” is all you can say, tightening your grasp around his fingers. “Please.”

Jisung’s curious gaze meets Felix’s, as he nods in agreement, and then before you can say anything else, he’s leaning forward in front of you to near Felix.

Felix doesn’t protest when Jisung finally kisses him, nothing more than a simple peck of his lips, and it’s so sudden that Felix hardly has time to close his eyes before Jisung is retracting once more.

“Yeah,” Jisung voices quietly. “Don’t go.”

You can feel yourself growing wetter at the sight of both men in close proximity to you, their hot breaths practically swirling against your own mouth, which remains parted as you watch them curiously. As if reading your mind, Jisung tilts your face toward him to indulge you in a passionate kiss as Felix watches. When he pulls away once more, Felix doesn’t hesitate to do the same, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek gently, as he presses his lips to yours. He’s a little rougher than Jisung is, a sort of desperation clear in his movements, as though he’s scared you might change your mind. When he pulls away again, he looks a mess, a string of drool trickling down his pouty lips, his freckled cheeks tinted with a pink red blush.

There’s not a word spoken amongst the three of you when you finally kick off your flannel bottoms and discard them beside the bed, effectively bare in just your panties now. Your arms cross over your chest to pull off your knit sweater, revealing the matching lace bra you sport, and Felix’s breath hitches in the back of his throat when he observes the way you near him now, glancing down at his lower half.

Despite the thick sweatpants he wears that seem to swallow his slim figure, he’s very visibly hard for you, squirming awkwardly in his spot when he takes note of you staring. He attempts to make an excuse for the indecency, as his lips part to say something- anything less incriminating than this deafening silence. But his lips part in a futile manner, as his gaze remains locked on yours, nothing but a sharp exhale filling the space between you both.

“You want some help with that?” You ask in a low voice, your gaze flickering briefly over Jisung’s.

Jisung nods encouragingly in your direction, and then sits back on his heels, as you crawl toward Felix, eyeing his throbbing erection. Your hand palms him lightly over the fabric of his pants, earning a little gasp from him- and then a fervent moan, when you finally tug his waistband down in tandem with his boxers. Felix’s cock is already leaky for you, a bead of precum decorating his pink tip, practically begging you to taste him. And when you lean forward to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail, a sharp breath escaping your parted lips as you near his girth, Felix lets out an involuntary gasp.

“Can I?” You ask Felix, staring up at him through long, fluttering lashes. He shifts in his spot briefly, leaning back on the palms of his hands to gain his balance as you wait patiently for an answer from him. And then he nods once, swallowing nervously.

“Yeah,” Felix responds, nodding a second time, this time with an eagerness to him. “Yes. Please.”

You waste no time taking him in your mouth, letting his slippery girth glide along your tongue until his tip is hitting the back of your throat, earning a light gagging noise from you. And Felix’s groans are guttural as you do, his fingers dipping into the mattress, as he grips onto the white duvet to steady himself.

“She’s good with her mouth, huh?” Jisung chimes in from behind you, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

Felix gasps when his voice fills the air, almost having forgotten Jisung is watching the whole thing unfold. His girlfriend, of god knows how many years, sucking off his best friend. And Jisung enjoys every minute of it, admiring the way your lips wrap around his cock so beautifully, your tongue swirling around the base of his erection to trace the protruding veins.

Felix is no stranger to the reality of the situation, either, admittedly a little nervous at the implications of this when it all concludes. But in the present moment, he can’t care less about why you’ve both agreed to it- not when you’re sucking him off like he’s paying you for the task. And not when he opens his eyes to watch Jisung wrap a hand around his own cock, pumping himself lightly and throwing his head back in pleasure.

Jisung’s eyes travel to Felix’s cock, tilting his head to catch a better glimpse of it. Felix’s girth disappears in the back of your throat, and a symphony of his moans follows as he struggles to catch his balance. Your hands caressing his balls as you devour him, shifting up to pump the base of his cock lightly. And then Jisung scoots closer to you, his vacant hand traveling to rest on the curve of your lower back. He presses down lightly, his large palm sprawled over your tender flesh, as his other hand remains wrapped around the base of his aching cock. And you know the action well already, following his nonverbal command to bend lower and arch your back for him.

Jisung’s lips pull into a satisfied smile when you do, always amused at how obedient you are for him. You know the implications of his actions very well now, having memorized the commands he relays, often through the greediness of his kisses or the caress of your soft skin. He doesn’t have to ask you- he’ll simply run his hand along your spine, and you know to arch for him, parting your thighs as you wait for him to take your cunt. And then he runs his wet tip along your folds lightly from behind, before pushing his cock into you with desperation, an insatiable desire to chase the pleasure Felix is already growing accustomed to.

Felix knows when Jisung finally bottoms out inside of you, because you moan loudly around his girth, a generous trickle of saliva escaping your lips to coat his inner thighs, as Jisung begins to move in and out of you. He pumps mercilessly in and out of your throbbing pussy, both hands now finding purchase on your lower back, as his thumbs rest along the dimples of your lower spine. With every thrust, your throat takes Felix deeper, and deeper, until his tip is kissing your uvula, your lips stretching painfully around his base. Jisung doesn’t remove his gaze from Felix’s, admiring the way his eyebrows arch up in pleasure, an almost pained expression on his face as you work him. He’s seen Felix take pleasure in a hit of weed, or when he’s accidentally walked in on him masturbating to the thought of you. But never like this, never so guilt-ridden, and yet fucked-out, at the same time. It’s clear he’s enjoying this more than even he thought he would, his legs struggling to stay parted as you gag helplessly around him.

And Jisung can’t shake the feeling that it’s always supposed to be like this, the two most important people in his life experiencing this same otherworldly pleasure. Perhaps he’s always thought about Felix sexually, to some degree, certainly no stranger to the beauty of his features and the warmness he exudes. An ever-present urge to just kiss him when he smiles too big, or to ask him to watch the two of you make love just once. It just feels right like this- it just feels complete.

“How does she feel?” Jisung calls out to Felix, cocking his head to get a better view of him.

“She feels- so- fucking good,” Felix voices breathlessly, gripping the sheets a little tighter. “I think I’m gonna cum.”

Jisung chuckles as he quickens his pace again, pounding into you with an almost painful force now, the sound of skin slapping filling the space between the two of you. The room echoes with gasps for air, Jisung struggling to stave off his own orgasm now, as the pads of his fingers dig into your flesh and imprint little crescent marks.

“Wait for me,” Jisung interjects, hardly able to form a coherent sentence as he pounds into you. “I want to finish with you.”

It’s unclear who Jisung’s even talking to, yet you both obey his command, your legs trembling as you hold off your shared orgasms. Jisung feels his cock twitch once inside of you indicating the near of his release. And before he makes it known, he reaches a hand up to make harsh contact with the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh with the recoil and gripping your flesh tightly. You let out an involuntary groan when he does, sending a delicious vibration along the length of Felix’s cock, and he shuts his eyes tightly when you do, certain he’s about to finish now.

“I can’t hold it,” Felix exclaims loudly, whimpering moans filling the room as he bucks his hips up toward your mouth. He’s coated in a sheen layer of your spit, beads of sweat gathering along the hairline of his platinum blonde locks as he feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. At first he takes them to be perspiration, quickly realizing that he’s in fact crying from the pleasure, when the tears graze his freckled face to then descend toward his chiseled jawline.

The pleasure is dizzying in all three directions- your pussy contracting desperately around Jisung’s cock, as he angles himself a little higher to graze your cervix now. The shared pleasure of Felix’s cock relishing in the sensation of your drooly lips, the same way Jisung’s cock disappears in and out of your tight cunt. And when Jisung’s cock twitches once more inside of you, he can no longer hold it, either, letting out a stifled moan, as he meets Felix’s gaze.

“Cum,” Jisung commands simply, slowing his thrusts inside of you to properly feel every inch of your warm cunt. “Finish in her mouth. Let her taste you.”

Felix can’t even respond before he’s gripping the sheets for dear life now, throwing his head back as he finally shoots thick white ropes of his cum down the back of your throat. You can hardly swallow when Jisung resumes pounding into you, and in the brief moment he waits for you both to finish, too, Felix lunges forward to capture your lips in a kiss, one hand wrapping around your throat to bring your face up to his. Your lips are a mess of spit and semen, trickling down the sides of your mouth and bubbling with every harsh thrust of Jisung’s cock slamming into you. Felix’s tongue darts out to gather the mixture along his own lips- salty, as he’d envisioned it. And then his deep voice vibrates against the back of your throat when he speaks against you.

“Cum for him,” Felix says to you, forcing your gaze onto his. “I wanna watch him fill you.”

Jisung’s hand reaches out to gather your hair in the palm of his hand, tugging harshly, your head pulling back as he quickens his pace again. Your eyes roll in the back of your head as he thrusts into you particularly deep- and then his warm load finally fills you, as he spills his seed into you, his cum gushing out of your still-aching cunt as he slows his thrusts.

Your body throbs with a pleasurable ache as you feel yourself reach your orgasm just seconds after, trembling helplessly around his cock, your own fluids mixing into his and making a mess onto the sheets below you. When Jisung finally pulls out, he glances at Felix, who sits up on his knees beside you. Jisung mirrors the action on the other side of you, his broad chest rising and falling as he attempts to catch his breath, unable to utter a word, simply allowing heavy sighs to fill the room.

It’s Felix who lunges forward to kiss Jisung in front of you, pressing his lips eagerly against his, making a mess of Jisung’s pouty lips with a mixture of your saliva and his own arousal. Jisung kisses back just as desperately, a soft moan escaping into Felix’s mouth as he runs his tongue along Felix’s lower lip. And then he pulls away to kiss you, too, the same eager passion present in the way his lips work against yours.

It’s a sloppy exchange of kisses for several passing minutes- Jisung kissing you, turning to kiss Felix again, allowing the two of you to kiss. At one point, you’re certain the three of you are caught in a three way tangle of tongue kisses, hands grabbing desperately at each other and letting pleasured sighs echo around the room.

And when you pull away to catch your breath again, they’re replaced by shared laughter amongst the three of you, satisfied and restful.

Implications of several more rounds- and perhaps some confessions to be shared, lie ahead for the evening. But for now, more pleasured sighs, bodies yearning desperately for each other and the desire to stay right here, exactly like this.

[sweetpupii]

Hi! Do you take requests?

If so, I think a fic bases on this excerpt:

"she can't have her parents walking in again. poor cassandra…finding your daughter with her whole face buried in between a girl's thighs is not the most ideal situation"

of your cailtyn story would be phenomenal 🙏

If you don't, feel free to ignore this! :)

Let's start by saying Caitlyn knows how to eat pussy and loves doing it :3 babe could have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert. she wouldn't call herself an expert per se, but she's quite proud of her talent.

sure, receiving it feels good—but what's better than knowing you're making a girl cum with just your mouth? to cait, absolutely nothing. the moans, the hair-pulling, the thighs clenching against her head ♡ ugh chef's kiss.

( she came untouched a few times from it but you did not hear it from me ok? )

it's usually one the first things she does when you successfully sneak into her room. like a reward for getting through massive place she calls home without anyone noticing.

your back against the bed and legs immediately spread to expose the sight she absolutely adores. god, she could just stare at it forever and it'd still have the same effect in between her own legs. new panties are needed.

she doesn't dive in face-first like an animal the second your clothes are off, even if she does feel like a starved woman. she starts by slowly kissing your thighs and caressing any bit of skin she can, hand sneaking up your abdomen and ribs to massage your breasts a little—don't mind it.

“Should I continue?” cocky because she already knows the answer is a breathy ‘yes, please’.

oh and she gets way more cocky once she finally starts working on you, soft and slow stripes and twirls with her tongue. nothing fancy yet; she wants to tease a little more.

the second your hips start bucking into her mouth though? girl, grab onto something because she takes the signs IMMEDIATELY.

legs propped up on her shoulder while her hands hold your hips down to keep control of them. the slurping sounds are almost pornographic with how sloppy she's being. no whine coming from you is gonna make her stop any time soon. she's enjoying it waaaay to much already.

if she's feeling nice she will add a finger or two while sucking ๋࣭⭑ curling them just right inside you, not in-and-out like crazy. her tongue’s already lapping at you pretty fast so no need to overwhelm you…yet.

she wishes you would look down at her for a sec to see that pretty expression better, but she also understands it's her own fault that your head is thrown back against the bed, clenching around her fingers while pulling at her hair. what a curse to be so good at pleasing girls.

she knew speeding up her movements wasn't a smart thing to do so late at night as soon as the loud whine that escaped your lips reached her ears. obviously louder than the previous ones.

the heavy thump on the door when it opened proved her right.

“Caitlyn.”

of course it had to be her mother out of all people.

cassandra's eyebrows furrowed as she looked away with a small huff, trying to erase the sight from her mind by blinking and observing every detail on the window. she thought caitlyn was trying to sneak out and get involved with stuff she shouldn't like she had done in the past with serious cases or something, not this!

“It is 3 am; please take your… friend out of here.” a dismissive wave of her hand showed that there wasn't much room for arguing—none really because she's already out the door with a low mumble to herself before her daughter could say anything. tomorrow's talk is gonna be awful, that's for sure.

“just keep quiet some more, then you can go home, alright?” the blue haired girl softly whispered, leaning up and kissing the soft skin on your shoulder to reassure that you're not leaving until you get a few well deserved orgasms, her fingers already going back to rubbing small circles.

she's not gonna let a pretty girl leave her bedroom unsatisfied even if it means getting caught again.

[revelboo]

I am LIVING for your starscream content, your writing style is absolutely magnetic and keeps me waiting for updates 24/7!! Thank you for your service to this fandom, you’re a godsend 🫡

Thank you!

Inside Out Pt 2

TFO Starscream x Reader

• “Stop making that sound or I’ll stop you,” he snarls, feeling your little hands touching everything inside him in a mad panic at being trapped in his canopy in alt mode. The threat works, though and those awful, sharp cries of terror that are clawing through his processor finally peter out until all he can hear is your ragged, frightened breathing. And even that rubs him the wrong way, because it is wrong. That unwanted sense of rightness that touching you brought him, tarnished by that fear and twisting about his spark. He hadn’t wanted to take you, but there was no leaving you. Something in him had settled the moment his servos had closed around you, chaining him even if he doesn’t understand it.

• The monster had become a jet again while holding you too tightly in a massive hand. You’d been sure you’d be crushed as he transformed around you, but somehow you’d found yourself awkwardly sprawled inside the jet when he was done, unharmed. That doesn’t explain why or where he’s taking you, though. Your throat is raw from screaming to be let go and you curl into a ball in the pilot’s seat, pressing your face into the side bolster. That feeling of familiarity and comfort whispers through you and you hate it, know it’s a lie, a trap.

• Striding through the base, he’s aware of optics on him and the human dangling from his servos and you’re thankfully silent without additional threats. Lip curling, his wings flare aggressively, meeting stares head on until they look away without questioning him. As the SIC, if he chooses to take this weak little organic, it might be questioned, but never to his face. You’re shaking again, breathing hitching oddly as he lets himself into his quarters and grits his denta. Trying to figure this out. Touching you reminds him of before the betrayal, when he’d been respected not just feared. It’s a curious sense of longing he’s not entirely sure he enjoys as he sets you down on his berth to try and sever that connection, but it’s still there, pulling at him. Calling to him. “What did you do to me?” He rasps, servos flexing angrily.

• He can feel whatever this is, too then. That’s not at all comforting as you look around for any escape short of flinging yourself off the high surface he’s placed you on. With the way he’s glaring at you, that option is beginning to have its appeal. “I’m not doing anything.”

• Hands slamming down on the berth on either side of you, guilt sizzles through him when you cry out and stumble back to fall. And then just stare up at him in a terror that makes him want to reach for you, soothe that fear away. He hates it even as he aches with that need. “Don’t lie,” he growls, unable to reach out to touch you, unable to back down. Chained to you against his will.

Previous

Next

[innieseong]

“𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫”

✧꡴ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✧꡴ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 - 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭)

✧꡴ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠

✧꡴ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 𝟐.𝟏𝐊

✧꡴ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐝𝐮𝐡𝐡), 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, (𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬!) 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 (?), 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤, (𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭), 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 - 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝.

✢ - 𝟏𝟖+ , 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

✢ - 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

✢ - @innieseong

✧꡴ - 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - 𝐎𝐮𝐮𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞 :𝟑 (𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 :𝟑)

✧꡴

You and Jay had already planned this night for the past week. You guys were going to watch a movie, specifically Venom, eat Pizza and maybe even take a walk outside, but that was if the weather was perfect.

Let’s just those plans didn’t go according as planned.

Jay grunts as he tries to focus on the paperwork in front of him, the warm sensation of Y/N’s cunt wrapped around his cock making concentrating difficult. The way you kept clenching and slightly grinding against him was driving him wild and the way your breast were pressing against his chest. He almost let his wild thoughts win, but he wasn’t going to let you win so easily.

He keeps his gaze on his paper work, annoyed at your distraction. He gives your hip a warning squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N...you're making it real fucking difficult to focus here," Jay groans under his breath, clenching his jaw as he tries to keep his eyes trained on the documents in front of him.

The insistent squeezing and grinding of your pussy around his throbbing cock is pure torture, making it nearly impossible for him to think straight. Every movement sends jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his grip on your hips tightening possessively. Jay knows he should put a stop to this, send you on your way so he can focus. But the feel of your soft, warm body pressed against him, the slick heat enveloping his aching cock...it's just too damn good.

He bites back a guttural moan as you clench particularly hard around him.

You whimper softly as you keep your mouth shut, knowing that a moan will slip out. Your hole was so slicked and wet that you could feel every inch and vein of Jays cock and it was far too much for you. You always knew Jay was gifted in many ways but nothing can ever compete with how massive he was. Getting fed up and tired, you grind down on him again, full on knowing what would happen.

The room falls silent accept for the sound of your needy panting and the obscene wet sounds of his cock moving in your sopping pussy. Your arousal is thick on your thighs, dripping down them and onto the floor. His cock is stretching you wide open, the tip kissing your womb with every slow grind of your hips.

“Easy there, love... I know you're dripping for it, but I've got actual work to do here. Can't have you distracting me with that greedy little pussy of yours.” Jay growls in your ear, even as his hips give an involuntary jerk, driving himself impossibly deep.

The scent of your arousal is thick in the air, heavy and intoxicating. It fills his nostrils with each breath, a dizzying perfume that makes his head swim with desire. The paperwork blurs before his eyes as all his blood seems to rush south, gathering in his hard, aching cock nestled deep inside your hot, slick heat.

You decided enough was enough and leaned up and placed a soft kiss where his neck and shoulder connected. He lets out a low groan as your lips brush against his neck, your soft kiss igniting sparks beneath his skin. His hips twitch involuntarily, cock throbbing inside you.

Every instinct screams at him to throw the papers aside, bend you over the desk, and fuck you senseless right then and there. To pound into you with wild abandon until you're both gasping and shaking, seeing stars. But he grits his teeth and forces himself to stay put, determined to get this work done before giving in to his baser urges.

“Fuck, Y/N...” he breathes, voice strained with restraint. “Why can’t you be good for me? Hm?”

One hand slides up your thigh, fingers digging into the supple flesh possessively. “Once this is over... I'm going to bend you over this desk and fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me for days... Just sit here for 20 minutes and I’m all yours, yeah?”

You hesitate before nodding slowly.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Just stay put for me, yeah? I almost have this done...”

Twenty minutes feels like an eternity as you sit there impaled on your husbands thick cock, your arousal dripping steadily down his shaft Each passing second is agony as your body aches for more, for the friction and pleasure that only his hips moving against yours can provide.

You try to distract yourself by watching him work, admiring the way his muscles flex and shift beneath his shirt as he scribbles away at his reports. The way his brow furrows in concentration, those full lips pressed into a thin line as he fights to maintain his focus.

But all it does is make you want him more. Make you wonder what those lips would feel like trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach... Make you imagine those strong hands roaming your body, squeezing and caressing and bringing you to the brink of ecstasy over and over again.

By the time the twenty minutes are up, you're practically vibrating with need, your core clenching desperately around his cock as if trying to pull him deeper inside. He sets his pen down with a soft click and looks down at you, his piercing brown eyes rake hungrily over your naked body, drinking in every curve and swell as he finally sets down his pen. The anticipation has been building for so long, the heat between you almost unbearable.

He stands swiftly, large hands gripping your hips and easily lifting you up. With a firm turn, he bends you over the desk, your cheek pressed against the cool wood. His calloused palms skim over your sides, down to your hips, holding you in place as he nudges your legs further apart.

“Look at this perfect ass”, he purrs, giving your ass a firm smack, the stinging slap echoes through the room and you can't help the needy whimper that escapes your lips. “Gonna fuck you so deep, you'll feel me at the back of your throat.”

He presses his body flush against your ass, his hard length throbbing insistently against your slick folds. Hot breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as he lines himself up, the swollen head of his leaking cock nudging against your entrance.

"Beg for it, Y/N," he growls, fingers digging into your hips. "Beg me to fuck this tight little cunt."

His hips roll in a slow, teasing grind, the thick ridge of his shaft dragging along your wet slit. Your body trembles with the effort of holding back, your hands gripping the edge of his desk. You're so close, you can practically feel him inside you. All you have to do is beg.

“Please, Jay. Please fuck me...” You pant, pushing your hips back against him desperately. “I need it so bad... Need your big cock stretching me open, filling me up, I'm begging you. Fuck your slutty little wife hard and deep. Ruin me for anyone else, Make me yours!”

He hums, satisfied.

“Your desperate pleas are music to my ears, love. Such a good girl, begging so sweetly for my cock.” He purrs, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back.

With his other hand, he grips your hips bruisingly tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he lines himself up. The blunt head of his cock catches on your entrance, slick with your arousal.

He rocks his hips forward, pushing into you inch by excruciating inch. Your walls stretch deliciously around his girth, fluttering and clenching as he fills you completely.

“F-Fuck, you're so tight. So perfect. I’m gonna fuck this pussy raw, Y/N. Gonna make you mine.”

With a final snap of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, balls slapping against your clit. He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts that shake the desk beneath you.

Fingers deep into your hips, he holds you in place as he pounds into you relentlessly. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, mixing with your wanton cries.

“I can feel you throbbing around me, Clenching down like you wanna milk my dick dry, shit Y/N” He pants, thrusting up into you with short, sharp jabs of his hips. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with each thrust, making you see stars.

He groans, sweat beading on his brow as he fights to maintain control. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room as he pounds into your dripping cunt, the obscene sound mixing with your wanton moans and keening cries. He tugs roughly on your hair, forcing your back to arch as he leans over you, hips snapping relentlessly against your ass.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well... Like this greedy little cunt was made for me."

He punctuates his words with sharp smacks to your ass, the sting radiating through your body. His other hand snakes around to rub tight circles over your clit, the added stimulation making you see stars.

Feeling me clench around his cock whist my moans get louder, he says, “Close already, baby?" he rasps, fingers tightening in your hair. "Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?"

Jays skilled fingers play with your clit, rubbing tight, maddening circles that make you see stars.

"Ah-Ngh, Fuck!" You cry out, back arching as he drives into you deeper, harder, hitting that secret spot inside that makes you clench and quake.

"Shh, shh, that's it love," he croons, voice husky with desire as he whispers in my ear. "Gonna make this greedy little cunt come on my cock like a good girl."

His hand lets go of your hair and snakes around to your throat, strong fingers curling gently but firmly around your windpipe. The slight pressure, the feeling of submission, only heightens your arousal.

"You gonna wait for me, baby?" he growls, grinding against your g-spot. "Gonna hold off until I say you can come?"

Your head is spinning, body trembling on the razor's edge. You're so close, teetering right on the precipice. But you know better than to disobey.

"F-fuck, yes!" you gasp out, nodding frantically. "Yes, I'll wait-shit!"

"Good girl," he praises, loosening his grip on your neck only to wrap one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his sweat-slicked chest.

His thrusts become erratic, hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Fuck, Y/N... Gonna fill this pussy up, pump you full of my seed-Fuck..”

He changes the angle slightly, grinding against your g-spot with ruthless precision. Your desperate cries reach a fever pitch as an orgasm crashes over you, muscles clamping down on his pistoning length like a vice.

With a hoarse gasp, he buries himself to the hilt one last time, cock pulsing and throbbing as he empties himself inside you. The feeling of his hot cum flooding your channel is your undoing and you come with a silent scream, walls milking him for every last drop.

You came with a silent scream, your walls clamping down on Jays pulsing length, milking every last drop of his seed. Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, back arching as you grind back against him, desperate for more friction.

Jays grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks as he rides out the aftershocks. He pours himself into you, filling you to the brim until his cum drips obscenely down your thighs.

Finally, he slumps over you, pressing you into the desk as you both struggle to catch your breaths. Your eyes flutter closed, head lolling to the side as Jay peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders.

"Fuck, Y/N..." he pants, voice hoarse. "Are you satisfied now?"

He nuzzles into your hair, inhaling the scent of your coupling. You feel boneless, sated in a way you never experienced before. Jay softening cock slips out of you with a wet pop, more of his release trickling out of your used hole.

With a groan, Jay straightens up, smoothing down your ruffled hair. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't have you walking around with my kids swimming in you."

He lifts you easily into his arms, carrying you towards the bathroom. You loops your own arms around his neck, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.

"Mmm, yes please..." you murmurs sleepily. "A hot bath sounds perfect right now..."

Jay chuckles, carrying you over the threshold and into the bathroom. As the door closes behind yall, shutting out the rest of the world, you know exactly where you belongs - safe and cherished in the arms of the man you love.

✧꡴

✧꡴

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich path)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Lich Romance Scene fair warning you're in for an emotional rollercoaster

first, i wanna touch on this from our previous dissection (argument) -

"What if I can't bear that for eternity?" Oh, Emmrich. his entire soul aches over the inevitable future that awaits rook. i think this line is so important for emmrich because 'bear that for eternity" implies Emmrich will either, a) go rogue trying to bring rook back c) live with so much grief over his lost love it changes his soul forever in a dark, yet unknown way. and quite frankly, all of these are incredibly sad, and that just hurts. i thoroughly, full heartedly believe that there is no concievable way that emmrich just 'moves on' and 'accepts' the death of rook as previously stated in the lichdom scene. sry bioware, but youre wrong on that one as if he was 'fine' with it, he wouldn't of had a massive panic attack over rooks death and his grief. COUGH, the eternal flame. i could rant for hours and HOURS about how emmrich in the lich path is absoloutley devastating if rook were to pass on, because he is so compulsively, irrevocably in love with them. and not only is he in love with them, he has the love he has yearned for, for over 20 years. its huge for him which is evident given how both romance paths have him terrfied of how much he loves you.

anyway, to the SCENE -

immediately we are hit with this, to which Emmrich replies stating that he did it not to scare the citizens. what a load of huff. youll see why thats a straight deflective lie soon -

don't you worry handsome man, youre not alone emmrich expressing his fear of losing rook, and/or losing eachother, continues to be a major dynamic between these lovers

oh rooky, im so proud of you for opening up about your feelings. (remember the argument they had prior, it was fort knox up in here)

rook expresses clear fear and gratitude that they were able to escape the fade. I do believe that the line "I was afrad I'd be there forever" is a parrelle to emmrichs lichdom - as they would of spent eternity without eachother. hence why this next line, hurts so much -

the raw emotion, the crack in his voice when he says this line tells you everything you need to know. he is so grateful to have rook back with him. I do believe in this moment that emmrich has a moment of realisation of his love for rook, and just how immensed and attached he is with her. which is why he later vows that nothing will part them ever again, "not in this, nor any other world" (cough, soulmates). idk man, i have a feeling that emmrich would find rook's spirit in the fade (or any other world) if they passed on, and he'd never leave.

I also want to touch on the "you're here with me" line. this, this is important considering what happens directly afterwards - remember how i mentioned desire a few posts ago? lets break it down, "you're here with me." Emmrich has held a consistent view throughout the whole romance that "its gratifying a fresh-faced adventure took any notice in me at all", does emmrich also possess the belief that the love he so dearly desired may not of been possible in his life time due to his age? i think so. which is why desire and the "wow, you're here with me" is so, so important. Now watch closely -

he looks defeated, ashamed - "why would someone like her be with someone like me? let alone, desire me."

the pose, how he is holding his chest and his body up against the coffin, the disbelief and sadness that is pained over his face. he is heavy with angst. this man wants rook, body and soul. he is SO in love with her. god my heart breaks typing this. he is so in love with her, but is so afraid that she doesnt want him now that he is undead - I will add in here to think back to when he was mortal, 3 flirts lines in total were regarding his looks. UGH, just stab me - ps the music in this scene rips out my heart, stomps on it, and shoves it back into my chest bloodied and bruised.

when rook touches him, his face unstiffens and his body relaxes. he looks at her nervously, but before he can address her or admit his pain, rook has NOTICED (YAY - take that argument scene rook) what is bothering emmrich, because she loves him so much, maybe even more, regardless of his undead figure. "You don't have to hide your face from me" is just a perfect way of phrasing that you are made for eachother. rook reassures emmrich of her undying love for him.

its that gomez and morticia dynamic, unwavering, obsessed dedication to eachother. a bond that strengthens the other. for emmrich and rook at least, theri dynamic is so strong I wholeheartedly believe the death of one, would break the mind and soull of the other.

there is so, so much emotion in this scene and most of it is written into the facial expressions and movements of the characters. watch how the fear of death becomes easier now that emmrich knows that rook loves him truly -

im not crying, you are -

this WRECKED me. because there is a slimmer of hope in his voice and particularly the words he chose. "I will let nothing part us again, my love" emmrich is a lich lord, with powers we dont understand just yet (cmon sequel with rook & emmrich), it is safe to say though that emmrich and rook would fight for and protect eachother to the death so that they may not be parted. This also takes me back to my original point of not letting anything part them, nothing - not even death. hence my belief that emmrich would do anything to find rook in the fade or any other world.

"Not in this nor any other world" - do i need say more? the hope seeps through, its not alot, but its there. don't get me wrong, he still has a crippling fear of death, but its, different. different in the sense that if rook was to pass or trapped somewhere, he would get them back and find his way to them, at all costs, one way or another.

the rest of the scene is very, very sweet and shows them being happy for the extra few hours they have together before facing untold danger - by either rook being able to see the fade through emmrichs eyes, or them boning again. actually i think both lead to boning.

this scene has me in absolute tears everytime I witness it because it is so powerful. it is hopeful. it is pure committment of their relationship and bond to eachother. combining this with the knowledge of the argument scene and having played through the mortal romance path, this - is extremely emotional.

Both romance scene are emotional and touching in their own regard - however, I do think the lich romance scene is more deep due to the dynamic. It is not about simply coming to grips with mortality, it is coming to grips with mourning your lover for eternity, and if you cant bear it for eternity, (which he wont, cmon) he is afraid. afraid of losing, rook. his heart. his dearest heart, and of losing himself because rook is, and I quote, "the most magnificent thing to ever happen to me."

mourn watch rook and emmrich are on a whole other level, and that level is something that is told in the minute details, the edging looks. the tone of voice. there is hope in this scene and a sense of overwhelming love and acceptance, but, there is also impending grief. which makes this story so real.

you can feel emmrich yearning for rook throughout the entire romance path because of the fated connected they share, in this and any other world. you can feel it. but this, in the lich scene? there is yearning, acceptance, hope, grief, joy, and melancholy all in one. without a doubt in my heart, these two, are made for eachother, in every world.

I shall break down the mortal romance scene next ♥ see you soon

[emeritusemeritus]

Ok so I was wondering if you could write a Fred Weasley X sarcastic hufflepuff reader and everyone kinda wonders how shes a hufflepuff because she comes off as bitchy but like she super caring with Fred and he’s like the only one that really sees that side of her

Hi Anon! I have to admit I got a little carried away with this one (what’s new). I started writing just a normal fic but it grew beyond measure because I fell in love with the snarky little Hufflepuff I was writing. I hope you enjoy! 🖤

**Part 2 is is HERE**

**important: I wrote this in mind following a masquerade ball that had already happened within the story to mark the anniversary of Hogwarts. **

Warnings: Unrequited love, idiots in love, friends to lovers all the usual divine tropes. Happy ending I promise. Minor sexual references, 1 mention of masturbation, George fancies Angelina. Slight angst? We have a massive crush on Freddie. Bonus points for anyone who knows where the title is from.

Word count: 3.8k (Oops I did it again)

But who can name the face?

"Nerds," you nod in greeting, a wide grin plastered on your face as you barge through their dorm room door, smirking to the two twins who sit hunched over their creations, trying to perfect a new product. George's nose was almost pressed into the book he was reading and Fred was tinkering with something you couldn't make out, probably an explosive of some sort. You jump onto George's bed, the closest one to you and kick off your shoes.

"Make yourself at home," George snarks, shooting a playful glance to you.

"Thanks Georgie I will," you beam, purposefully ignoring the sarcasm dripping from his words. He rolls his eyes with a smile before focusing back on the page.

"Earth to Fred?" You say, noticing a few moments later that he hadn't greeted you. You frown, hearing nothing back and George shoots a glance to you again before turning to his twin, kicking him swiftly in the shin.

"Git," Fred mutters, rubbing his shin and finally noticing that you were here.

"Hello to you too," you snark, watching as his eyes squint mockingly at you.

"Sorry your ladyship, didn't realise you required my full attention," he snarks, expecting a reaction that he doesn't get.

"Well I do," you nod, your voice and face completely blank until you erupt in a smirk that he mirrors.

"What are you working on?"

"Wait how did you get in here? You're a Hufflepuff!" George gestures to the Gryffindor boys dormitory you're sat in, but your face reveals nothing. Fred knows because of course he does, you've been here more times than you can count but George is usually not here when you sneak in.

"I believe I asked a question first, but if you must know," you lean in towards George, acting as if you were going to reveal an entire catalogue of secrets to him. "I'm a witch."

The deep sigh that George lets out only increases your devilish smile that you share with Fred, widening still when you hear him burst with laughter, the sound of his boisterous laugh filling your body with warmth. He had the most gorgeous laugh and you couldn't help but admire how handsome he looked when he laughed, eyes shining.

"Sodding woman," George mutters under his breath as he picks up the book again, pretending to read. You don't miss the smirk that's threatening to slip from his lips that he's trying so hard to conceal, making you feel a little victorious.

"So back to me, what are you working on?"

"Love potions," Fred says absently, as if it wasn't a big deal.

Your stomach roils dangerously, a sinking feeling settling in your lower tummy as Fred's words.

"Love potions?" You repeat, hardly hiding the frown on your face. You look between the twins but they offer nothing in the way of clues. Fred finally looks up to you again, shrugging slightly as he explains.

"Figured we could start selling them at the shop, break into the girly market. These are just drafts, we realised early on we don't have a bloody clue what we're doing with them."

"Draft draughts?" You joke, squashing down any uneasy feelings you felt. George snorts and Fred chuckles at your words as he nods, enjoying the stupid pun.

"Fancy helping a mate out?" He asks, trying to reel you into helping with whatever he was tinkering with, holding his hand out for you to take. "Could do with your expertise little badger."

You roll your eyes at the nickname but hop off George's bed to grab his hand, letting him lead you over to look at his little experiment, seeing a kind of heart shaped bottle that he was trying to transfigure. You offer to help him transfigure it into more of a heart and somehow manage to tint the glass pink which they both like.

"So why the sudden need to break into the girly market?" You ask, head cocked slightly as you look upon the bottle that you're quite proud of.

"Got love on the brain doesn't he," George says with a laugh, only to duck a moment later when Fred lobs a book at his head.

"What?" You ask, trying to sound neutral but fearing you were failing miserably.

"Met a girl the other night didn't he, hasn't shut up about her since," George adds, clearly unbothered by Fred's reaction as he ducks another flying object thrown by his bemused twin.

"You wouldn't shut up about her if you met her," he grumbles, cheeks filling with a vibrant blush. "Didn't even know girls could be that attractive, she was perfect mate."

"What from the half of her face that you saw?" George snarks, a loud 'ow' echoing through the room as he fails to duck this time.

You don't hear anymore, your heart pounding in your chest and you feel sick almost instantly, the room seeming to spin around you. Fred had met someone at the masquerade ball.

The Masquerade Ball was an extravagant affair marking the one thousandth year of Hogwarts since the founding of the school in 996AD. In honour of the ancient traditions, a masquerade ball had been held which would bring all the students together regardless of their assorted houses. You could be as anonymous as you wished, no need to disclose your house or your name and dates were not permitted in an effort to unite the school free from the usual restrictions that naturally came from house only events. Due to the enchantments upon the school, the masks were implemented to hide your identity for the night with made everything even more magical. You'd had a wonderful night, second only to the Yule ball though you really couldn't compare them.

You remembered now that you hadn't seen Fred all night, not for your lack of trying and now it all makes sense why. You need to get out before the tears really start, your world feeling like it was crumbling around you.

"Sorry, forgot about my potions work," you say quickly, reaching for your shoes and rushing out of the door before either of them could notice your tears.

You barely make it out of Gryffindor tower when your tears begin to stream down your face, lip wobbling as their words echo through your mind. You run to the nearest bathroom, praying that it's empty and rush into a cubicle to allow yourself some privacy in your heartbroken state.

You'd had a crush of Fred Weasley forever. The unlikely pair that you were, the hufflepuff and the Gryffindor brought together by mischief. You'd started falling for him in your second year but managed to keep it quiet, to push it away and keep it hidden in the hopes that it would fade over time... but it didn't. By your fourth year you had a full blown crush and by your fifth you were convinced you loved him. Every summer you wished that upon your return to school that your feelings would have disappeared or at least faded but the second that he'd smile at you, throwing his arm around you in a warm greeting you knew that your hoping was pointless. You'd spent years perfecting your ability to hide your feelings from him, torturing yourself in private to allow you to keep feelings-free around him. You reasoned that it was better to have him in your life as a best friend than to be without him completely and you were fine with that, at least until now. There's never been another girl as far as you remembered. Sure his friendship with Angelina sometimes made you jealous but you were sure that George fancied her and Fred was just trying to rile him up most of the time to get a reaction. But this mystery girl, he'd fallen for him without even knowing her, without even seeing her full face. She's stolen him away from you without a single thought and you didn't even know who she was to hate her.

Once you'd gotten most of your feelings out, you thought of the one thing that had kept you going all week. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you, but it was different for you.

You'd also met someone at the ball, the masked man with the black hair and robes so entrancing that he'd actually made you forget about Fred entirely for the short time you spent together. He had a magic laugh, magnetic really that made you feel drawn to him even without knowing anything about him. You'd felt connected to him instantly, even as your eyes searched for Fred in the crowd of people but finding nothing. At least now you knew where he was.

You let out a sigh, wiping your last couple of tears with the sleeve of your robe as you took deep breaths to steady yourself. How could you go on from this? The masked man had been your dirty little secret that you'd never intended to go anywhere, as much as he kept sneaking into your mind.

Fred Weasley would never be yours. It was a fact, as excruciating as it was to admit. Someone else had turned his head, not that he was ever really looking at you and all you could do is sit back and watch with thoughts of your mystery man to keep you company.

You managed to avoid Fred and George for the next two days pretty successfully. You weren't as popular as them but you had some good friends in Hufflepuff that you chose to sit with at meal times and stayed within the common room for most of your free time, knowing that Fred and George couldn't find you there.

"Are you coming to dinner?" One of your friends asks, waiting for you in the common room as you finish up the chapter of the book you were reading.

"Yeah sure," you say, placing in your bookmark and casting your book onto the side.

You follow her out of the common room past the barrels into the dark corridor and scream as you're dragged away by two strong figures. You look back to your friend in alarm seeing her mouth a half-hearted 'sorry' and try to fight off your attackers, quickly getting the sense of who was manhandling you.

"Put me down, idiots!" You say struggling against their weirdly strong grasps, not stopping until you were placed onto a bench in the next corridor. You look up and see Fred and George towering over you, their eyes fixed into hard stares as they look at you, Fred with his arms crossed and George with his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff.

"You've been avoiding us," George accuses, openly saying the words that you knew were true. You can't bring yourself to deny it, or avoid the question, all you can think is how to make an excuse that would explain it all.

"No excuses," Fred says, clearly reading your face. Damn him for knowing you so bloody well.

"I've been busy," you say, lifting an eyebrow at them.

"Yeah, busy avoiding us," Fred says, his lips pursing a little as he looks down at you.

"Busy doing school work," you counter.

"Oh yeah what class?" George asks, though you can tell in his void that he's not falling for it one bit.

"All of them," you say, quickly adding, "you know I get surprisingly little work done when I'm with you two, funny that."

"Yeah nice one, tell it to my mother," Fred says completely deadpan. You sigh, knowing you're not going to get out of this one alive.

"I've just been busy," you say, lowering your barriers a little but keeping that little confession of love stored neatly tucked away where it would never come out no matter how open you were being. "Needed a couple of days to myself... people were starting to think I was a Gryffindor."

Fred's face remains unchanged but you can see the ghost of a smile pulling at George's face.

"It wasn't you, I just had a lot going on," you say with complete honesty, well maybe not complete.

"Needed a couple of days to get my head together, I've been drowning in homework and I'm think I'm failing charms. I honestly just needed a couple of days to sort myself out before they send an owl home and my parents would know how much in disappointing them."

Okay so not a complete lie, but not the complete truth either.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Fred says, his harsh glaze slipping from his face as he crouched down beside the bench you're sat on, his head still inline with yours at his astronomical height. George relaxes in front of you, scooting you across so he can sit on the other side of the bench. You feel awful essentially lying to them, though it was more altered truth but you could face them knowing, especially Fred.

"Embarrassed, mortified, horrified, you choose."

"It's us, you don't need to be embarrassed with us," George says softly. Usually your relationship was filled with vicious banter so seeing him so soft and kind with you was nice if not a little off putting.

"Anyway, now I have you back," Fred says with a smirk blooming on his face.

"We," George adds, shooting a look to his twin.

"Eh? Oh yeah... how come you never told us your common room was down here?! You could have been sneaking us treats this whole time!"

"Would have saved our legs many a trip to the kitchens!"

"Length of your legs it only takes three steps," you quip back to George who smiles widely.

"There she is," Fred says smiling at you. It's a beaming smile, eyes glimmering and it makes your heart burst to know that it's all for you. Fred suddenly stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you hop off the bench but to your surprise he doesn't let go and instead pulls you away, still holding your hand as you walk around the corner to the kitchen corridor, passing the painting of the silver fruit bowl that conceals the entrance to the kitchens.

"See all those times you've apparently come up to our room, could have brought the snacks," george says, bumping your shoulder as he nods to the door as you make your way past it. "All you have to do is," George says, walking in sync and surprisingly saying nothing at his brother's hand in yours.

"If you think I'm going to stop and tickle the pear every time I come to see you," you begin to say, only to be cut off by Fred.

"You can tickle my pair anytime, babe."

"Shove off Weasley," you say with a bite, trying to recover from his words quickly and fight off the blush that threatens your heating cheeks as they laugh amongst themselves.

"Well if you're offering," George says from the other side, to which you side step and hold out your foot, causing him to trip. He catches himself quickly before he falls but it's still pretty funny, as made apparent by yours and Fred's laughter.

"Thought you Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice!"

"Coming from you?" You counter, sending a frown towards him, able to list off the top of your head a multitude of times he'd pranked someone, caused damage or injury and that was mainly just to yourself.

"She is nice," Fred quickly defends, shooting his brother a dung-eating grin, "to me at least."

You chuckle and carry on walking, watching out for George's revenge.

"Hold up, wait here," Fred suddenly says, coming to an abrupt halt near the main atrium. He grabs your arm to stop you, his hand breaking free from yours as he holds up a finger and runs back down the corridor.

You watch his figure disappear and squeeze your now unoccupied hand, your body already missing his touch. Truthfully the past few days had been torture being away from them, namely Fred, but it was necessary to contain the feelings that has threatened to burst out of you like a broken remembrall.

Suddenly there's a gasp to your side and you spin around quickly on your heel to face George, who is looking at you with wide eyes and a Zouwu like grin etched upon his face. You frown in confusion, not knowing what he's looking at until your entire body fills with dread with his next words.

"You're in love with him!"

You panic, not knowing what to do with the information. You can hardly deny it, it would be impossible to hide from George now he knew and you're certain that your reaction has given you away, so you go to the next default setting: threats.

"One word comes out of your mouth to anyone and I'll tell Angelina that I walked in on you wanking over her!"

George faces pales for a second before his cheeks heat up with a vivid red blush that spreads the full length of his face.

"But that didn't."

"Your old friend... Angelina Johnson... the Qudditch team captain," you say, ignoring his looks as you tilt your voice to sound more and more disgusted at his behaviour with every passing word.

"What? You can't."

"Naked on a broom, George Weasley! Could you be any more depraved?"

"Alright fine!" He says, holding his hands up in surrender, not wanting to push you further and find out that you weren't bluffing.

"I won't say anything to Fred," he promises, looking genuine in his agreement.

It's awkward now, the silence that follows as you come to terms that George is in on your secret now.

You don't look at him any longer, instead fixing your gaze to the stone floor as you consider the implications. Had you looked at George, you'd have noticed him battling with himself, fighting over what to say next. It wasn't his secret to tell, he shouldn't even be considering breaking him twin's confidence but the look on your face right now was enough to break whatever morality he had.

"You know... he's," George begins to say, your gaze drifting up towards him as you look into his eyes, expecting laughter or mocking but finding none.

"He's what?" You ask, confused about his sudden stop, eyes widening.

"He's coming."

"I was only gone for a minute, you two haven't fallen out already have you?" Fred jokes, his pockets clearly stuffed with treats that he'd acquired from the kitchens.

"No," you and George say at precisely the same time. So much for not looking suspicious. Fred trots off ahead urging you both to follow and you do so willingly and silently, hardly trusting yourself to speak in that moment as you feel George's eyes on you.

"Everything alright with y/n earlier? She seemed upset when I got back. Are you sure you didn't say anything to her?" Fred asks, taking off his tie and his school shirt as he undresses for bed, calling to George who's doing the same on the other side of the room.

"I didn't say anything mate," George says, "reckon you're thinking about her too much."

"Just being a friend," Fred says, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Well between 'being a friend' to y/n and your mystery woman, you certainly are doing a lot of thinking... reckon if you ignore one of them you might finally figure out that love potion," George says grinning as he climbs into bed.

"Shove off," Fred says, climbing into his own bed and pulling the curtain across with a harsh shove. He lays in bed unsettled for what seems like hours, his mind spinning between his friend and his mystery woman, realising with a sad conclusion that he'd gotten absolutely nowhere with either one of them.

♡

Fred Weasley was certain that his eyes had never been blessed enough to look upon something so captivating, so enchanting that it made his mouth dry. There was a sea of people around dressed in their fanciest clothes, an opulent symphony of colour and glitter, yet she stood out amongst the crowd like a singular lighthouse in a vast, dark ocean.

He was enthralled by the way her dress moved, clinging perfectly to her figure, highlighting the delicate curves and lines of her body whilst staying modest. It was arousing, the way her dress offered so much but showed so little, Fred's imagination running wild of what lay underneath.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman Fred had even laid eyes upon, he was certain. Her dress shining under the twinkling lights, her seductive smile and those eyes that seemed to twinkle all on their own even without the glistening reflection of the lights above her.

He was certain that he was the luckiest bloke in the room; that every other male was envious of the way his hand was wrapped tightly around her waist. But he didn't care what anyone thought or of their jealousy in the moment, he just couldn't believe his luck. They were pulled together as if my an invisible string, finding each other quickly as the music played around them, the soft lights acting like a runway between them both, eyes connecting almost immediately.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" He asks with a smirk, losing himself in her eyes as they seem to glimmer even more at his words.

"I don't think that's how masquerade balls work," she says with a laugh, earning a chuckle from him.

"What about your house?" He follows up, needing to know something about her even if it's tangible evidence.

The smile she flashes him makes him almost dizzy, sparkling eyes peering up at him from beneath her mask.

"Only if you can guess it," she counters, leading him down a dark path of guessing who she might be.

"Sorry I think you've hit your limit on questions," she says as the song changes. "Perhaps I could ask you some?"

"You can ask me anything... except my name," he smirks from under his mask, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips briefly under your gaze.

"Are you single?"

His laughter is contagious and she finds herself chuckling along with him as his hand at her waist squeezes her tighter momentarily for her cheekiness.

"Definitely," he replies softly, though he can't help but feel a little stab at the thought of his best friend, wishing for years that he could say that he wasn't single in the slightest.

♡

Fred wakes with a start, confused for a moment as to his whereabouts having jumped so quickly from his dream to reality. He was back there again, his mind so fixed on his mystery woman that every dream was a recollection of that night, though this time he was certain that there was something different. Had his mystery date always sounded so much like y/n?

Part 2 anyone?

[hyperdramas]

assumptions | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warning: non-idol au, angst, romance, major league baseball player!seokmin, popular x nobody, depressing themes, unlikely meeting, sprinkles of fluff, miscommunication, pg-13/some suggestive themes (??) mentions of peer pressure, drinking & insecurity, cursing, there IS a happy ending (i promise)

playlist: assumptions, sam geliatry | runaway houses city clouds, tame impala | softcore & reflections, the neighborhood | passion, pinkpantheress

part: 1 of 3 extra note: thank the amazing @slytherinshua for coming up with this absolutely GENIUS idea🙏 / word count: 1.7k (longest thing i've written???)

Even though popular and talented Major League Baseball player Lee Seokmin had everything that eleven-year-old him would've wanted, he felt empty as he watched his own replays on the television.

Seokmin had fame—he was known everywhere, not only for his raw talent as a pitcher, but his model-like qualitites and his supposedly likeable personality. Seokmin had money—he lived in a pretty upscale apartment that was cut off for the rest of society, tucked away on a cliff overlooking the bustling night view. Seokmin had merit—he was praised for his physical ability, humble disposition, and respectable talent.

He had it all, and yet he had absolutely nothing.

Just hours earlier, the crowd's roar was tantalizing, drawing Seokmin in as he stared out at the thousands of fans coming to cheer for him and his team. Now, it sounded static-like and overwhelming, the sound unbearable as he had to switch the television, sighing as he moved away from the suffocating room that was once his comforting living room.

Seokmin's footsteps echoed into the empty, lavish kitchen, white tile unblemished as he searched his fridge. He wasn't hungry, but he looked inside it anyways, closing it moments after as he sighed to himself, hands in his hair as he rested his elbows on the sleek marble countertop.

Why did he feel so empty? He had his teammates if he needed to call, but he didn't want to hear their voices right now. He didn't know why he was angry at them, but he was.

Seokmin was never an angry person—sure, he got fired up at times or had strong opinions that he wasn't going to let go without a fight, but he was never one to just be angry for no reason. Something was bothering with him, but he couldn't figure out what it was or how to stop it.

Why was he even trying anymore?

"Fuck." Seokmin sighed out the curse word, bite still harsh behind it as he let his head fall down on the counter with a hard knock.

A knock at his door brought him out of his sour reverie, and he stared at it confused. He lived far off from the nearest residental area—who was here? How did they get here?

The doorbell rang just seconds later, and Seokmin groaned, tired eyes empty as he made his way to the front door, swinging it open to reveal you, standing in all of your oblivious, confused glory.

"Can I help you?" Seokmin's voice was obviously not the one you were expecting to hear, and you jumped at it, face a hot, blaring red as you realized what was actually going on here.

Your friend had given you an address that a party was going to be at, and you reluctantly promised that you would go. You had followed the directions to the letter, and didn't even think twice about when you arrived at the massive apartment, undeterred by the lack of cars or absence of party music.

You were obviously at the wrong house.

"Can I help you?" Seokmin repeated again—this time around, his voice was sharper, more annoyed. You stood in shock, obviously in denial that this had happened to you.

"Is there a party going on here?" You questioned, and Seokmin blinked, silent before he shook his head slowly. "....No?"

Not only were you at the wrong apartment, but you were at popular celebrity Lee Seokmin's apartment. The Major League Baseball player your little cousin was a fan of was standing right in front of you, in his attractive, dashing glory.

"I'm so at the wrong house." You say awkwardly, and Seokmin just stares at you, just as confused and disturbed as you are. There was this random girl at his door, talking about a party that he had heard absolutely nothing about.

"Yeah, you are." Seokmin actually let out a little laugh at that, eyes crinkling like the ways you say they did on television. You smiled, an even brighter red because the Lee Seokmin was laughing at you.

"Well, I should go. I'm sorry, uh, Mr. Lee." You said, trying to mend the awkwardness you were feeling. Seokmin paused, eyebrows furrowing together slightly as he spoke. "You know who I am?"

"Well, yeah. My—my little cousin—he's a really big fan of you." You reply, mind somewhere else. You're not a big fan of the man or anything, but you have said he's attractive on multiple occasions to your Major League Baseball-enraptured friends (who would not let you live it down if you told them that you had met him by accident).

"That's sweet," He says, and you nod, offering a small 'yeah' as the two of you fall quiet. "We'll, I'll go now." You say, smiling awkwardly as you start to walk away.

"Stop." Seokmin's voice is quick, but strong, and you pause, turning back around as you meet his gaze. His brown eyes were even prettier in person, and the tight, black tank top he was wearing (and you were trying to ignore) just made the whole ordeal even more unbelievable.

"Can you stay?" I just—" Seokmin pauses, struggling to find the right words. He couldn't even believe what was coming out of his mouth right now, but he couldn't seem to stop the words from coming. "I don't want to be alone."

You were stunned, unable to speak for a second as you replayed his words—he was asking you, a random college girl who inputed the wrong directions and ended up at a celebrity's rich-looking apartment—to stay with him.

And here you were, saying yes. "Yeah, uh—sure." You conceded, stepping inside the apartment as you slipped off your shoes.

Everything was so upscale, and you felt out of place, t-shirt and sweatpants doing nothing but making you feel like you were intruding in Seokmin's clean, neat space.

"Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?" Seokmin was in his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water as he looked to you for your response.

You were watching his back intently, watching how his muscles tensed when he did certain things—he was built, no doubt about it, and you could imagine the curve of his collarbone and dip of his abs from your vantage point.

"Oh, um, water's fine." You answer, noticing that Seokmin had been staring at you for who knows how long, waiting on a reply.

He went to work, filling your glass as he passed it to you. It was cold, and you took a sip, quiet as Seokm looked out the massive window that stood his dining room. The air between you two was still very awkward, but you felt like you could open up about anything to him, and he wouldn't judge you like your mom or friends would.

"So, you live here all alone?" You questioned, and Seokmin nodded, taking another sip of water. "Yeah. It's just me." Seokmin answered, and his hand tightened around the glass. He was so alone, and so miserable.

"What about you? Do you live alone?" Seokmin returns your question, and you shake your head. "I live with a college friend."

"Oh." Seokmin nods, and you nod with him, silence falling over you two again. It was so awkward, sitting with this famous baseball player while drinking cold water and talking about your living situations. Could your night get any weirder?

You studied Seokmin's face, never really paying attention to it while you were talking. All the pictures never really did him justice—his eyes were prettier in person, and you never knew that he had a tiny beauty mark on his cheek. You guess it must've always been covered up, or obscured by his helmet.

His frame was as described by everyone in love with him—he was strong and broad, muscles bulging from his sleeveless tank top.

According to a Men's Health article you read once, Seokmin worked out daily, and they weren't lying—he looks like he was sculped by God, spending hours and hours to get to where he was now.

"Thanks for staying, by the way. I know it was weird, asking you to randomly stay with me in my house." Seokmin becomes timid, and you shake your head, shrugging. "Of course. I mean—I have nothing better to do, and I really didn't want to go to that party my friends were going to."

"You really didn't want to go, did you? You came to the wrong address just you wouldn't have to, huh?" Seokmin laughs, making a joke. You flush, laughing nervously as you set down your glass. "I guess you could say that, yeah."

The laughing dies out between you after a while, and you yawn, eyes growing heavy. Whether it's because the lack of real conversation you and Seokmin are having, or the fact that his voice is so calming and down-to-earth that you could phase into his countertop and sleep forever, you don't know.

"Your eyes are closing." Seokmin says—his voice sounds like he's laughing at you, but you're too busy fighting sleep off that you let it slide. "Well, yeah, I guess so."

"You're getting sleepy, aren't you?" Seokmin questions again, and you nod without thinking, head falling on the countertop as you mumble a yes.

Seokmin leaves his place on the other side of the countertop, making his way over to you as he leads you by the shoulders into his living room. His massive, warm hands engulf your shoulders easily, and you let him lead you, not putting up a fight as he lays you on his plush, velvet couch.

"What will the people think if they found out I was sleeping on your couch?" You muse, half-asleep. Seokmin pauses, brain racing at your simple question—so many things could happen if this were leaked to the public. His clean image would be stained by dating rumors if that happened to you, and Seokmin didn't know what he would do if the word actually got out.

"They're not going to." Seokmin says blankly, and you mumble something before drifting to sleep. Seokmin stares down at you, watching your soft features contort into a neutral expression.

What would reporters say? What would his teammates say? What would his coach say? What would his manager say?

Seokmin didn't know, but he found himself not wanting to think about that as he dimmed the living room's lights, walking upstairs to his room as he stripped himself of his pants and got into his bed, lights going out as he stared into the darkness.

What was he doing?

feedback & reblogs are so appreciated! i wanna hear your thoughts :>

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 4/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [added over the course of this series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: series is coming to a close and all i can say time and time again is thank you <3 this has been such a blast to write and reading all your comments and tagged reblogs makes me beyond grateful. i was going to make this chapter longer but i exceeded the tumblr word break count, so the much awaited smut chapter & epilogue will be next :pensive: anyways, please enjoy!! and let me know if you're a fein for more....ifykyk :3

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

the day of your book launch arrived like a storm of excitement and celebration, the entire event carefully and extravagantly crafted by gojo-sonic. true to his word, satoru had given shoko a “no limits” budget, and she’d taken full advantage. 

every detail screamed luxury and grandeur, from the sprawling hall draped in velvet and illuminated by chandeliers, to the massive screens flashing animations of your book cover as if it were the latest blockbuster. booths lined the entrance, stocked with merch inspired by mating the dragon king — everything from small trinkets to collector’s editions of the book. readers, critics, and fans alike were buzzing with excitement, filling the air with an electric anticipation.

you took it all in with awe, hardly able to believe the spectacle was for your work. a lump formed in your throat as you realized this was satoru and shoko’s way of supporting you, a grand gesture of friendship and admiration when words alone weren’t enough. 

shoko, dressed to the nines, approached you with a smug grin, handing you a glass of wine, graciously sponsored by persephone wines. 

“told you we’d go all out, didn’t i?” she chuckled, clinking her glass against yours.

“shoko, i don’t even know what to say. this is… i mean, look at all this,” you said, gesturing around you, a little overwhelmed by it all.

“just say you’ll dedicate the next one to us,” she teased, winking. “this was nothing. i didn’t even blow through the whole budget satoru gave me.”

“don’t worry, i’ll get my credit,” satoru’s familiar voice cut in as he joined you, flashing his trademark grin. “i told shoko: if we’re sponsoring the best writer i know, she deserves the best launch.”

“you two are ridiculous,” you laughed, but your heart was full. “thank you. really.”

“hey, you worked for this,” satoru shrugged, his eyes softening. “we just put a spotlight on the star.”

before you could respond, suguru’s voice came crackling through a tablet satoru was holding. he was miles away but, in true fashion, wouldn’t miss the opportunity to chime in. 

along with having persephone wines sponsor the drinks, he’d also sent over an exquisitely tailored gown, just for the night, joking that it was the “least he could do” from afar.

“i may not be there in person,” he quipped through the video call, his voice warm, “but i’ll be damned if i don’t make sure you look like the queen you are tonight. the gown suits you.”

you felt yourself flush at his words, smoothing the luxurious fabric of the gown as you glanced at yourself in one of the mirrors. “you outdid yourself, suguru. thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” he smiled, a soft glint of pride in his eyes. “now go show them why you’re the best.”

the event itself was a whirlwind of praise and conversation, with critics and fans alike coming up to you. several of them took the time to express their admiration for the novel’s heartfelt evolution. 

“the relationship between the dragon king and the princess felt so raw, so beautifully authentic in this sequel,” one of them remarked. “you managed to capture this intense romance in a way that’s rare to see in fantasy. it wasn’t just lust, but something deeply emotional, and it resonated.”

another critic leaned in, smiling knowingly. “and the rivalry turned camaraderie between the dragon king and the knight? you’ve managed to make them compelling foils — layered and nuanced. it’s been a long time since i’ve read such rich dynamics.”

you accepted their words graciously, nodding and smiling, but your mind kept drifting back to toji. 

all the subtle emotional depth in the book — the raw, consuming, and vulnerable aspects of love — it was impossible to ignore his influence on the way you wrote this time. he’d pulled you into a realm of understanding that went beyond mere words, and you’d poured that revelation into every chapter, every exchange between characters.

shoko caught your gaze and sidled up next to you. “sooo, thinkin’ about someone special?” she teased, raising her brow.

you tried to play it off with a shrug. 

“maybe. it’s just… i’m realizing how far i’ve come. a few years ago, i could never have written like this, could never have understood these feelings so deeply. now… i feel like i’ve finally become the writer i always wanted to be.”

she nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “well, you’ve grown. and you’ve let someone in. that changes things. makes them real.”

as you moved through the event, mingling with guests and listening to the feedback, you allowed yourself a rare moment of pride. you’d worked so hard to get here, navigating the ups and downs of an author’s journey. the countless late nights, the rejections, the criticisms — they all seemed worth it now. 

this was more than just a book launch; it was a testament to how much you’d evolved, both as a writer and as a person.

when you found a quiet corner to catch your breath, you couldn’t resist pulling out your phone, typing out a quick message to toji.

you [7:36 pm]: i owe a lot of this night to you, you know. couldn’t have written this without your… "help." 😌

a moment later, your phone buzzed with his reply.

toji [7:40 pm]: my pleasure, princess. make sure to give me a private reading of that sequel soon ;)

you laughed softly to yourself, tucking your phone away, feeling a rush of warmth that settled comfortably in your chest. 

tonight was a night of celebration, but as you looked out at the gathering of supporters and friends, you knew that the most profound reward was waiting for you at home, ready to be there in ways that went beyond just words on a page.

“daddy, come on! we’re gonna be late!” megumi’s voice rang out through the small house, his small hands balled into impatient fists as he watched his dad struggle with his tie.

“alright, alright, relax, will ya?” toji grumbled, pulling the knot loose for the third time and starting over. his nerves weren’t exactly helping him get ready any faster, and megumi’s impatience wasn’t making things easier.

the babysitter mix-up had thrown a wrench into his plans. 

tonight was supposed to be simple — show up, support you at your big launch, and, if he could work up the courage, propose. 

that was already hard enough without a certain eight-year-old demanding he speed things up. 

he glanced over at his son, who looked like a mini version of himself, decked out in a tiny suit, his hair combed neatly for once. megumi was practically vibrating with excitement.

“you ready for this, buddy?” toji asked, finally getting his tie straight and adjusting his collar.

megumi gave him a big grin, nodding eagerly. “i get to see y/n tonight! and everyone will say i look cool,” he added, puffing out his chest proudly. “do you think she’ll like it?”

toji smiled, his heart doing a weird flip at the thought of you seeing megumi like this. “she’ll love it. you look like a little heartbreaker,” he teased, ruffling his son’s hair before catching himself. 

“but hey, don’t tell her that i messed up my tie like five times, alright? let’s keep it between us.”

megumi snickered, looking up at his dad with mischievous eyes. “only if you promise to hurry up! she’ll be there already! she’ll think we forgot her!”

toji let out a chuckle but felt a swell of something deeper. tonight was big — not just for you, but for him, for megumi, for the family he hoped to make official. he’d been so certain when he got the ring, so sure he’d just hand it over with some smooth line. 

but now, standing here, he realized how real this was. 

he’d spent most of his life with only his son by his side, and suddenly, you had filled in so many empty spaces he hadn’t even known were there.

“you think she’ll say yes?” he muttered to himself, not realizing he’d said it out loud until he saw megumi’s puzzled face.

“say yes to what?” megumi asked, head tilted as he studied his dad. “you didn’t ask her anything yet.”

toji’s heart leapt, but he just shrugged. “oh, just… if she’ll like the flowers, or the dress — uh, the way you’re dressed, i mean.” he rubbed the back of his neck, knowing full well his son wasn’t buying it.

“she’s gonna say yes to everything, daddy,” megumi said confidently, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “everyone loves her. i love her!”

toji’s chest tightened. he didn’t need to ask megumi if he’d be okay with you becoming a permanent part of their family; the kid practically glowed every time you walked into the room.

“alright, alright. let’s get outta here before she thinks we’re ditching her big night,” he said, scooping up his keys and nudging megumi toward the door.

as they drove to the venue, toji’s mind raced. 

he thought about all the times you’d laughed with him, stayed late to watch silly movies with megumi, made dinners feel like more than just a chore. 

you weren’t just good for him; you’d made him want more, to be better. and for megumi, you were the safe place he hadn’t even known he’d been missing.

“daddy, are you gonna kiss her tonight?” megumi piped up suddenly, pulling toji from his thoughts.

toji nearly choked. “uh, maybe, kid. depends on how things go.”

“good,” megumi replied, nodding solemnly. “you should. she likes you. she told me once.”

toji chuckled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “yeah? and what’d she say?”

“she said you’re stubborn and don’t listen, but that you’re good at cooking,” megumi recited, looking pleased with himself. “and that she thinks you’re cute.”

toji’s heart soared. the kid had no idea what tonight meant, not really. but he could feel his own nerves steady, knowing he wasn’t alone in wanting this. 

it wasn’t just him and megumi anymore — it was the three of them, and he wanted that, needed that, more than he’d let himself admit.

pulling up to the venue, he took a deep breath, looking over at megumi with a grin. “alright, bud. let’s go make her night unforgettable.”

you were mid-sentence with one of the editors when you heard it — your name, shouted in the unmistakable pitch of a child. whipping around, you barely had a moment to react before megumi, clutching a massive bouquet that nearly swallowed him whole, came barreling toward you.

“megs!” you gasped, and without thinking twice, you scooped him up into your arms, letting out a laugh that was half-surprise, half-joy. the flowers brushed against your face, petals tickling your nose as you held him tight, savoring the moment.

“oh my gosh, you’re here! and look at these!” you pulled back just enough to look at the bouquet, then at megumi, who was grinning up at you with all the pride in the world. “did you pick these out yourself, mister?”

“yep!” he beamed, holding the bouquet up higher, like he wanted to make sure you got a good look. “daddy said we could get the biggest one they had because tonight’s really special.”

before you could respond, toji appeared beside you, keeping his arm low and offering a subtle, one-armed hug — a gentle squeeze at your waist, just enough for you to feel him there. the touch, as small as it was, sent a warmth through you that the room full of people couldn’t rival.

“thought we’d surprise you,” toji murmured, his voice just for you as he pulled back a bit, casting a wary glance around. you knew he was trying to keep a low profile, aware of the eyes everywhere. 

not many people knew about his personal life — let alone that he had a son — and you understood, appreciating the lengths he’d gone to just to bring megumi here tonight.

“you both did a perfect job,” you said, looking from toji to megumi with a soft smile. “you have no idea how happy i am right now.”

megumi’s eyes sparkled, as if he knew exactly how much his presence meant. “i told daddy we couldn’t miss it! i mean, it’s your biggest book ever, right?” he asked, bouncing a little in your arms, oblivious to the attention his enthusiasm was drawing.

“it is,” you nodded, smoothing a hand through his hair, “and you made it so much better just by being here.”

“oh!” megumi perked up, his voice loud enough to turn a few heads. “did you know i brought my special iron-man pen so i can sign books too?”

you laughed, nodding along. “well, with a pen like that, you’ll be the best co-author here.” you glanced up at toji, sharing a knowing look. 

“thank you for bringing him. i know it… wasn’t easy.”

toji shrugged, his expression softening just for a moment. “hey, it’s your night. thought he might make it even better.” his words were casual, but the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. 

it was like he wanted to tell you so much more, but knew it wasn’t the time or place.

a nearby critic approached, clearing his throat as he smiled at you. “i hope we aren’t interrupting a family moment,” he said kindly, glancing at megumi with a smile. “but i’d like to congratulate you on your incredible work — it’s rare to see such depth in a romance series, truly.”

you flushed, offering him a grateful smile as you shifted megumi in your arms. “thank you so much. that means the world to me,” you replied, feeling megumi wiggle with excitement.

toji, standing just behind you, kept his hand resting gently at your back, his presence grounding you as you navigated the crowd. despite his careful distance, you could feel his pride, his quiet support, and it felt like a shield, like a promise he was making, even in silence. 

you knew how much it took for him to be here, to show this side of himself to the world, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

as you shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and posed for photos, toji stayed close, always within reach. each time you turned to look at him, he was there with a soft, steady gaze, giving you that silent encouragement he seemed to master so well. with every glance, every small exchange, you could see the admiration in his eyes, like he was seeing you all over again and falling deeper.

megumi, oblivious to the significance of the moment, tugged at your sleeve. “are we gonna eat soon? daddy said there’s cake.”

you smiled, leaning close to him. “oh, definitely. i hear it’s the best cake in the whole city.”

“see, told you we’d get cake,” toji muttered under his breath, ruffling megumi’s hair. you couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the way his gaze softened as he looked at you both. there was so much affection there — unspoken, but understood.

for a brief second, you imagined this was your life every day. not just events and fleeting moments, but nights together, little family moments like this. 

the thought made your heart swell, and for a second, you allowed yourself to imagine the possibility of it becoming real, wondering if maybe, just maybe, toji wanted it as much as you did.

toji leaned back against the wall, his eyes following the two of you as you knelt down to point out the different treats on the table for megumi, who was practically bouncing with excitement. 

the critic’s words kept circling in his mind, replaying over and over, making his chest feel tight: family. family moment. 

the idea of it hung in the air, clinging to him in a way he couldn’t shake off. watching you with megumi like this, it was a glimpse of something he’d never dared to imagine, and yet here it was, right in front of him.

his fingers brushed the small box in his pocket, feeling the outline of the ring he’d agonized over for weeks. it had seemed crazy when he’d first bought it — almost reckless. 

me, proposing? he’d thought, laughing at himself. but now, with you and megumi just a few feet away, it didn’t feel crazy. 

it felt like the most real, most obvious thing in the world.

"daddy! look!" megumi called out, waving a small pastry in the air. “she said i can try whatever i want! even the tiny cake things!”

“the petit fours,” you corrected with a smile, ruffling his hair. “you have great taste, kiddo.”

toji chuckled, crossing his arms as he walked over to you both. “better take it easy, megumi. don’t want you passing out before the cake,” he teased, slipping an arm around your waist without even thinking about it. the gesture was small, casual, but it felt right.

“i’m not gonna pass out! i can eat everything,” megumi declared with a determined nod, his cheeks already stuffed with a piece of macaron.

you both laughed, and toji glanced at you, his smile lingering just a little longer than usual. his heart thudded with a strange, warm ache. 

he could see it now — the life he’d always convinced himself he didn’t need, didn’t deserve. he could see it so clearly: late nights, family meals, hearing megumi’s laughter echo through your home. 

and you… you beside him, every step of the way.

his hand found yours and squeezed it, his voice dropping low, soft, “you’re really something, you know that?”

you tilted your head up at him, a bit of surprise mixed with warmth in your eyes. “what’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?” you teased, nudging him playfully.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “maybe just… realizing how lucky i am.”

before you could respond, a familiar voice rang out, entirely too loud for the occasion.

“well, well, well, look who finally made it!” satoru announced, strutting over with shoko at his side, her expression mildly amused. “thought you’d skip your own lady’s event, huh, toji?”

toji rolled his eyes but gave satoru a smirk. “yeah, figured i’d let you take all the credit.”

satoru scoffed, nudging toji’s arm. “as if. this isn’t my night, it’s hers.” 

he turned to you with a broad grin. “you’re killing it tonight, seriously. it’s about time everyone realized how much of a genius you are.”

“here, here,” shoko added, raising an invisible glass in toast, her eyes gleaming with that usual mix of admiration and mischief. “you deserve all of this, every bit of it.”

you smiled, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “thank you, both of you. really. none of this would’ve happened without you two backing me up from day one.”

satoru scoffed, waving you off. “please, you would’ve gotten here on your own. we just sped things up a little.”

toji watched as satoru and shoko chatted with you, keeping one hand wrapped around yours. satoru and shoko had no idea, of course, that tonight was the night he planned on asking you to be part of his life permanently. 

it was almost funny, seeing them so oblivious, all while toji stood here with a ring in his pocket, ready to turn his life upside down.

“you okay?” shoko asked, raising a brow at him as she noticed his quiet, distant expression. “you look like you’re planning something big. which, if you are, you should probably warn her first.” her voice held a teasing edge, but there was something knowing in her eyes.

he gave a small shrug, trying to play it off. 

“just… feeling lucky,” he said again, and he meant it more now than ever.

the moment megumi’s eyes landed on the enormous dragon hanging from the ceiling, his mouth fell open in awe, and he pointed up with such force it was almost as if he was about to fly off the ground. 

his little voice pierced through the chatter of the room as he shrieked, “look! look! a real dragon!”

everyone turned their heads in unison, drawn to the oversized, intricate dragon decoration that swirled and curled down from the ceiling, its glittering scales catching the light and its wings spread wide like it was ready to take flight.

“woah, that thing’s massive,” satoru said, clearly impressed, even though his voice had the usual playful edge. “didn’t know you were into dragons, megumi.”

megumi, not even listening to satoru’s question, continued to point excitedly, his eyes wide with the kind of childlike wonder that made his enthusiasm contagious. 

“it’s the dragon king!” he announced, as though he were revealing a hidden treasure. “he’s gonna — he’s gonna —”

“he’s gonna swoop down and eat us all up!” toji finished with a grin, playing along as he leaned in to mess with megumi’s hair. “better watch out, kiddo.”

megumi gasped, taking a step back dramatically as if the dragon could really eat him. 

“nooooo!” he screamed, his tiny voice making everyone in the vicinity laugh. “i don’t wanna be eaten!”

“you’ll be fine,” you said, leaning down and pulling him into your side for a protective hug. “but if you’re not careful, the dragon might just come and steal your cookies.”

megumi narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, crossing his arms. “that’s what he wants? cookies?!” he asked incredulously, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear. “i can take him! i’m iron man!”

everyone laughed again, and even toji chuckled under his breath, watching his son’s antics with affection.

“you’d better be quick then, iron man,” toji teased, a hand sliding around your waist. “i think the dragon’s looking at your cookies.”

megumi immediately perked up at that, his eyes darting back to the dragon above them. “no! that’s my cookie! he better stay away!” he shouted, before running off toward the table with treats, waving his arms like he was preparing for battle. “you better not mess with my cookies, dragon!”

“he’s serious about those cookies,” satoru said with a grin, chuckling as he shook his head. “maybe we should let megumi take on the dragon first, then we can all get some cookies in peace.”

toji couldn't stop smiling at the sight of megumi racing toward the table. he hadn't seen the kid this excited in a while. it was as if his joy was a burst of energy that spread throughout the room. the love, the laughter — it all felt like a dream to him.

“what about you?” shoko asked with a teasing smirk, looking at you. “are you joining in the battle too?”

you grinned, your gaze flicking to toji for a brief moment before your eyes softened. “yeah, we’ve got to make sure the cookies are safe, right?”

toji’s heart thudded in his chest. he knew that this — these moments with you and megumi — was what he wanted. it wasn’t just about him or about megumi. it was about you three, together, as a family. 

even if no one else knew it yet, it was real in his heart.

“we are the cookie protectors,” you said, straightening up. “and the dragon better stay away from us.”

megumi, now holding a cookie in each hand, jumped up and down. “yeah! take that, dragon!” he shouted, looking back at you for approval. his small face was so determined, so full of confidence, that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“that’s my boy,” toji muttered under his breath, watching the small scene unfold. he didn’t know how it had happened, but somewhere along the way, his heart had found a place with you and megumi — his family. 

and no dragon, real or not, could take that from him.

you looked up at him, and for a brief second, the entire world felt like it slowed down. "we’re really doing this, huh?" you said softly, and toji’s lips curved into a warm, affectionate smile.

“yeah,” he replied, his voice steady. “we really are.”

as the last guests trickled out, toji gave a subtle nod to gojo and shoko, who shared a knowing look. gojo’s grin stretched ear to ear, and he waggled his eyebrows at toji.

“ohhhh, i see what’s going on,” he drawled dramatically, casting a wink your way. “don’t worry, big guy. we’ll keep the little one entertained.”

“so you two can, you know… have a moment,” shoko added, giving you both a half-smile as she nudged megumi’s shoulder. “come on, kid, let’s go see if there’s any cake left in the back.”

megumi’s eyes lit up. “cake? there’s more cake?”

“as much as you want,” gojo said, patting his head. he leaned down and stage-whispered, “besides, your dad probably needs all the help he can get to keep up with his favorite author.”

toji shot gojo a glare as gojo strutted away, dragging megumi with him. but there was a small, grateful smile tucked under the tough exterior as he turned back to you.

“they’re so extra,” you laughed, shaking your head as toji led you out onto the balcony, where twinkling lights and a clear view of the moon made everything feel softer, more intimate.

“think that’s what friends are for,” toji mumbled, scratching his neck, clearly trying to shake off a bit of nervousness. he looked so out of place in a suit but wore it well, in that rugged, casual way that made you feel like you were with him — not some polished version of him. you gave his arm a gentle squeeze as you both settled onto the bench.

“honestly, i still can’t believe how well tonight went,” you murmured, staring out at the moonlit view. “it feels surreal.”

toji chuckled. “yeah, you handled it like a pro. i don’t know how you keep it together with all those people throwing compliments and criticism at you.”

you laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “oh, like you’re one to talk, mr. mysterious voice actor.”

he rolled his eyes, but there was a small, proud grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “voice actor, huh? kinda takes the mystery out of it.”

“please, i see how they look at you when you talk,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder. “if they only knew half the things you say to me, the mystery would be gone in a second.”

toji huffed, his cheeks slightly pink as he wrapped his arm around you. “maybe i like keeping a few secrets,” he said, tone low and soft, like he was letting you in on one right then.

you stayed like that, just nestled against him, and a comfortable silence settled between you. after a moment, you stood and walked to the ledge to snap a picture of the full moon, your phone’s flash catching on something small — a tiny charm dangling from your phone. toji’s eyes drifted to it, and he felt a sudden rush of warmth at the sight: the little origami paper ring he’d made for you months ago, in a moment that felt playful and silly then, but seeing it still there now…

he took a deep breath, fingers brushing over the ring box in his pocket. 

it’s now or never, huh?

“hey,” he called softly.

you turned, your face softly illuminated by the moonlight. there was a kind, patient look in your eyes — the look that he swore could stop his heart — and his own heart hammered as he took a step closer.

“so, um…” he cleared his throat, trying not to let his nerves show. “you remember that first night we met? at the bar?”

“oh yeah,” you said with a little smile. “you were the one looking all grumpy in the corner.”

he chuckled. “yeah, i… guess i thought i was too good for everyone there.” he smirked, shaking his head. “then you sat down and completely threw me off. got me talking more in one night than i’d talked all year.”

you laughed, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze. “you didn’t seem like the talking type.”

“i wasn’t,” he said, softer now, “until you.”

you tilted your head, brows lifting in surprise as he went on.

“i tried not to make a big deal out of it,” he said, a little embarrassed, “but i fell hard that night. i kept telling myself it was nothing, but then… every time i saw you with megumi, every time i watched you do what you love…” his voice grew softer. “hell, every time you’d hum “dancing queen,” i’d get this stupid grin on my face and just think, ‘yeah, this is it.’”

you couldn’t help but laugh at that, even as your heart beat faster. “dancing queen? really?”

“yeah, laugh all you want,” he teased, shaking his head, “but it’s true.”

then, with a steadying breath, he pulled out the ring box and flipped it open, revealing a delicate ring, the exact same shade of blue as the paper ring on your charm. 

“so… will you let me make this official? be my wife? let me be there for you and megumi, as more than… you know, whatever we’ve been calling this?”

your eyes filled with tears as you stared at the ring, then up at him. without hesitation, you flung your arms around him, hugging him tight as you whispered, “yes. yes, toji, a thousand times yes.”

he exhaled in relief, wrapping his arms around you as if he was afraid to let go. “about time,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “thought you’d never give in.”

you leaned back, laughing as you swiped at your tears. “oh, shut up, you were the one dragging your feet!”

“i’m just thorough,” he said with a smirk, slipping the ring onto your finger. he glanced down at it, a proud smile on his face. “looks good on you.”

you admired the ring, then met his gaze with a grin. “it’s perfect. but, uh… i hope you’re ready for a lifetime of dancing queen.”

toji groaned playfully, though his eyes sparkled with happiness. “guess i can handle that… as long as i’ve got you.”

as you stood there, feeling the weight of the ring on your finger and the warmth of toji’s arms around you, the realization washed over you like a tidal wave — you, the anonymous smut writer extraordinaire, the queen of dodging wholesome romance in favor of spicy plots, were now officially engaged. 

engaged, as in, someone actually wanted to put a ring on it.

and that someone just happened to be toji fushiguro, who, at this very moment, had the audacity to be looking at you with that amused glint in his eye, watching your face morph from shock to excitement to full-on teary bawling.

“oh my god,” you croaked, barely able to contain the laugh-sobs that bubbled up. 

“i’m engaged. like, wedding bells and not trolling in the comments sections engaged.”

toji raised a brow, pulling you closer as he chuckled. “i mean, considering half the stuff you write about, that’s a hell of a transition. but hey, you’re handling it… sorta.”

“sorta?” you sniffled, then glared at him through watery eyes. “i’m having a life-altering epiphany, thank you very much.”

he smirked, swiping a thumb under your eye to catch a stray tear. “awwww, poor baby. reality setting in?”

you scoffed, trying to stifle the way your laugh broke into another sob. “look, i just… never thought i’d actually be here, you know? from hidden smut scenes and faceless profiles to… this.”

“hey, hey,” he murmured, squeezing your hand. “if it makes you feel better, i’m here for all of it. the trolls, the, uh… ‘intense fan engagement,’ and whatever’s next. and i gotta say, i think it’s pretty hot my girl’s a smut connoisseur.”

you smacked his arm, laughing through your tears. “you just like that i write things that would make a nun pass out.”

“absolutely,” he grinned. “it’s impressive. educational, even.”

you let out a snort-laugh, wiping your cheeks. “oh my god, toji, please. this is already too much. i’m literally having a moment, and you’re still finding a way to bring up my career in porn literacy.”

he chuckled, pulling you close and leaning his forehead against yours. “is it really a moment if i don’t remind you what a legend you are?”

you blinked up at him, overwhelmed by a mix of hilarity and emotion, the tears slipping down despite yourself. “i… i guess not.”

“see?” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek again. “you’re one of a kind, y’know that? and i’ve loved you since day one — trolls, sarcasm, emotional breakdowns, and all.”

you sniffled, biting back a laugh that still sounded half like a sob. “since day one? you mean since i saw you brooding in a bar and puked on your shoes?”

“yeah, yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “since that night. you took me out of my head, put me right in yours. and now… i don’t think i’d want to be anywhere else.”

that did it; a fresh wave of tears slipped down, and you let out a groan, barely holding back a laugh. “great, now i’m really crying. and it’s all your fault for saying something so sweet.”

toji’s lips curved into a smirk as he gently thumbed away your tears. “i’ll take the blame,” he murmured, then pulled you close again. “so long as i get to see that pretty face of yours every day.”

“ugh,” you muttered, but your voice wobbled, giving you away. “you’re such a jerk. you know that?”

“only for you, babe,” he said, squeezing you. “only for you.”

toji grinned, watching the emotional storm brewing in your eyes. just as you took a shaky breath to speak, he cleared his throat dramatically, adopting a voice dripping with fake sincerity, and intoned, “my love for you burns brighter than the eternal flames of the dragon king’s wrath…”

your jaw dropped, equal parts horror and laughter bubbling up. “oh my god, toji. no. you didn’t just quote one of my lines. that line.”

he smirked, utterly unbothered, shrugging casually. “what can i say? they had those fancy signed copies lying around… thought i’d see what all the fuss was about.”

you were torn between laughing and punching him. “so, you thought you’d quote the cheesiest line in the whole book? i swear, that scene was a joke between me and shoko —”

“hey, don’t knock it,” he said with a smirk, throwing an arm around you. “personally, i think it’s beautiful. poetic, even. you’d make any dragon proud, babe.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “i’m so embarrassed right now.”

“oh, c’mon,” he nudged, pulling your hands away so he could see your face. “if it makes you feel any better, it got me here, didn’t it? my heart’s already caught fire.”

“stop it,” you laughed, finally relenting and pressing your forehead to his chest, a half-hearted punch to his shoulder. “you’re such a jerk.”

he chuckled, wrapping you in his arms. “yeah, but i’m your jerk. and i gotta say, i think we’d make a pretty good team. i mean, after all, the dragon king always finds his queen…”

“i will actually murder you,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the way your laughter softened, clinging to him just a little tighter.

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, planting a kiss on the top of your head, a warm, knowing smile on his face.

the morning after the book launch, toji was on high alert as he sat megumi down at the kitchen table. the little guy was still bleary-eyed, hair a mess, pajamas slightly askew, but when he spotted his dad’s unusually serious expression, he perked up, looking from toji to the unopened box of cereal on the table.

“what’s up, daddy?” he asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

toji cleared his throat. “listen, kiddo… i’ve got some big news.”

megumi’s eyes widened. “big news?” he asked, already intrigued. “like… big like when we found out that the dragon yesterday was a real dragon?”

toji scratched his head, trying not to laugh. “well, maybe not that big. but it’s important. you know how much i love y/n, right?”

megumi nodded with an exaggerated seriousness that only an eight-year-old could muster. “of course! you guys are always looking at each other, and you smile even when she makes fun of you.”

“oh, she makes fun of me?” toji chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, dad. i heard her say you look like a ‘tough marshmallow’ once,” megumi said, and then giggled at the memory.

toji rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. “well, anyway… i’ve decided to ask her to marry me. and guess what? she said yes.”

megumi’s eyes grew as big as saucers, and he sat straight up in his seat. “wait, like… she’s gonna be my mama?”

toji nodded, grinning. “yeah, just like that. you and me — we’re gonna be a team with her.”

megumi stared at him in stunned silence, and then, all at once, he exploded with excitement. 

“YES! that’s so awesome!” he yelled, fist-pumping the air. “we’re gonna be a real family, with, like… dinners, and vacations, and… wait, does that mean i can tell my friends i have a mama now?”

toji chuckled. “you sure can, kid.”

“oh man,” megumi squealed, his hands up in the air as he looked around the kitchen as if needing to celebrate immediately. “this is amazing! we need to have a party or something!”

he practically bounced up, reaching for his favorite cereal with such enthusiasm that his elbow knocked a bottle of milk right off the counter, sending it crashing to the floor. they both froze, looking at the mess.

megumi winced. “uh… oops?”

toji just laughed, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “we’ll clean it up together. ‘cause that’s what families do, right?”

megumi beamed up at him, the pure joy in his little face melting every last bit of toji’s tough exterior. “right! and i’ll do it fast, ‘cause i’m excited. i can’t believe this. i’m so lucky, daddy!”

toji ruffled his hair. “nah, kid. i’m the lucky one. and trust me, it’s about to get even better.”

it's barely dawn when your phone buzzes, dragging you out of a warm, blissful sleep. squinting at the screen, you see toji’s name flashing. a sleepy smile forms on your face, but before you can even say hello, a very familiar, very excited young voice explodes into your ear.

“y/n!!! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!” megumi practically yells, his voice hitting decibels that feel criminally loud this early in the morning.

you jolt, holding the phone a little farther from your ear. “megumi?” you mumble, still half-asleep and trying to process the level of energy he’s throwing at you. “why are you up so early, buddy? did something happen?”

“something HUGE happened! guess what, guess what, guess what!” he shouts, each “guess what” somehow louder than the last.

blinking against the early light creeping into your room, you stifle a yawn. “hmm… did someone find a real-life dragon in our backyard?” you play along, rubbing your eyes.

“even BETTER!” he declares triumphantly. “you’re gonna be my mama!!”

you pause, biting back a laugh, because of course you already know this. but hearing the excitement in his voice, you can’t help but let yourself get a little carried away, too. 

“oh, wow! really? that’s incredible, ‘gumi! i had no idea,” you say, matching his enthusiasm with a gasp.

“i know! isn’t it soo cool?! i told daddy that this means we get to have family dinners and stuff, and now i get to tell my friends that i have a mama,” he babbles, his words running together in his excitement.

toji’s voice, faint in the background, mutters, “megs, let her breathe.”

but megumi, undeterred, barrels on. “and guess what else! i’m gonna help pick out the wedding cake. i already told daddy i want one with dragons on it, so we’ll be like, the coolest family ever.”

you laugh, absolutely charmed by his excitement. “well, i think that’s an amazing idea. a dragon cake sounds perfect.”

“right?! and can we have swords, too? i think it should be like one of those fights, where you and dad have to fight, and whoever wins gets the cake.” he’s practically bouncing off the walls at this point, each suggestion wilder than the last.

“swords and dragons? that might be a tall order, but we can see what we can do,” you reply, stifling another laugh.

toji’s voice cuts in, sounding both amused and exasperated. “alright, kiddo, you’re supposed to let her sleep. remember? that was the deal if i let you call her this early.”

there’s a dramatic pause, and then megumi whispers loudly into the phone, “oops.”

you chuckle. “it’s okay, mumi. i’m really glad you called. now i’m just as excited as you are.”

“good!” he cheers, before pausing. “but, uh… you can still sleep if you want. i can call you again in five minutes if that helps?”

“five minutes, huh?” you glance at the clock, pretending to think it over. “you know what, i’ll take that extra sleep. i’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“okay!” he chirps, clearly pleased with himself for being so “understanding” about your need for sleep.

you hear toji laugh softly in the background, and he takes the phone back. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. i’ll make sure megumi doesn’t actually call you in five.”

“i appreciate it,” you murmur, smiling. “good luck keeping him in one place today.”

“thanks. i’m gonna need it,” toji chuckles. “get some rest. we’ll see you soon, future mrs. fushiguro.”

a warmth blooms in your chest, making it even harder to hang up. “can’t wait. love you both.”

as you finally close your eyes again, megumi’s ecstatic little voice echoes in your mind. it’s the kind of wake-up call you could get used to, even if it means sacrificing a few hours of sleep.

toji grumbled as he held up his phone, squinting against the light from the window. it wasn’t every day he voluntarily subjected himself to a facetime call with those two, but after everything that’d happened last night, he supposed he owed them the news firsthand. as the phone rang, he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable chaos that was about to unfold.

the call finally connected, but there was nothing but… dead silence. neither gojo nor suguru had their cameras on, which was weird because gojo’s face was usually plastered in the frame within seconds, whether he was ready or not.

“uh… you two there, or is my phone broken?” toji asked, furrowing his brow, wondering if it was some kind of network issue.

another moment passed before gojo’s voice finally came through, quiet and almost suspicious. 

“so, toji. you call us this early, just for what? a chat?”

“what, i’m not allowed to check in?” toji countered, unable to keep a smirk off his face. “and hey, it’s not that early.”

“toji, it’s barely eight!” gojo’s voice was dramatic, and toji could practically feel suguru rolling his eyes in the background.

“yeah, yeah, well… it’s important,” toji finally muttered. he knew it was going to sound weird to them, especially coming from him, but he had to bite the bullet. 

“look, i got engaged last night.”

a beat of absolute silence. 

toji even pulled the phone away from his face to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. then, suddenly, he heard a choking noise on the other end, and gojo’s voice came back with a trembling, “what did you just say?”

“yeah. i asked her to marry me. it’s real.” toji’s voice was nonchalant, as if he was just talking about his usual dinner plans, but his grip on the phone tightened. he didn’t know what to expect from them. jokes? a snide comment? but… nothing. 

dead silence again.

“alright, what the hell? you guys hear me, or what?” toji demanded, brow knitting in confusion. were they that shocked, or was the signal just terrible?

and then, from the other end, he heard a frantic scramble, some muffled curses, and then… nothing. his screen stayed black.

just as he was starting to think the call had dropped, there was a loud knock on the door of his house, followed by the unmistakable sound of fists pounding against the wood.

“toji! open up!” gojo’s voice was shrill with excitement, and suguru’s calm, collected voice was barely audible under gojo’s babbling. “we’re coming in!”

toji groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, but he couldn’t stop the grin creeping up on him. he opened the door, and immediately gojo shoved past him, eyes wide and… were those tears?

“toji! no. you did not just get engaged.” gojo looked between him and the empty house as if expecting some kind of confirmation. he grabbed toji by the shoulders, eyes glistening, voice a little thick with emotion. “you… you’re serious? i swear, if you’re messing with us —”

“satoru,” suguru interrupted, leaning casually in the doorway, looking far more composed but with a smirk tugging at his lips. “give the man some space.”

“no! he’s been holding out on us this entire time! and now he’s engaged?” gojo sniffled dramatically, then pulled back and looked around, eyes narrowing. 

“wait. where’s she? she has to confirm this. i don’t believe it otherwise.”

toji rolled his eyes, half-exasperated, half-amused. “she’s not here, genius. she’s at her place. i didn’t drag her along for this circus.”

“circus?! toji, this is a historic moment!” gojo looked as if he was going to cry all over again. 

“you, of all people, settling down with someone — i just — i knew you had it in you! i just thought it would take a lot more time. i mean, do you even know what to do now that you’re —” he waggled his fingers, unable to contain his excitement, “ — engaged?”

toji snorted, feeling a weird warmth settle in his chest. “well, obviously. i got this covered. don’t act like you know everything, gojo.”

suguru chuckled from his spot, crossing his arms and giving toji an approving nod. “i’m honestly impressed. never thought i’d see the day.”

“oh, please.” gojo scoffed, reaching up to dab his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “don’t look at me like that. you’re crying too.”

suguru raised an eyebrow, unaffected. “i’m… not crying, satoru.”

gojo shot him a glare, but then turned back to toji, his face softening. “all joking aside, man, i’m really happy for you. i knew you’d find someone who could handle all… this.” he gestured broadly to toji, grinning. “and that she’d actually make you a better person.”

“yeah, yeah. thanks for the pep talk,” toji muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he scratched the back of his neck. “didn’t think i’d be hearing this from you two clowns.”

“hey,” suguru said with a smirk, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “that’s what friends are for, right? to be there when you make stupid decisions… or, in this case, when you make one of the best decisions of your life.”

toji rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the swell of gratitude in his chest. he’d known these two idiots for years, and hearing them actually cheer him on — well, it was something.

gojo sniffled again, clearly still emotional, then let out a bark of laughter. “so, tell us, what’s the plan now, mr. engaged man?”

“plan?” toji raised an eyebrow. “uh, i dunno, man. probably marry her?”

“don’t be sarcastic, toji!” gojo waved a hand. “i mean the details. are you doing it here? is there gonna be a fancy wedding? can i give a speech?”

toji pinched the bridge of his nose. “i’m pretty sure giving you a mic is gonna be the worst decision of my life.”

“that’s what you said about proposing,” suguru chimed in with a grin.

“touche,” toji muttered, though his smirk betrayed his amusement.

gojo, however, was unrelenting. “so, can i give a speech? come on, toji. i can make it classy. well, sorta. at least i’ll keep it pg — ish.”

“we’ll see, alright?” toji finally conceded, shaking his head as gojo cheered like he’d just won a prize. “but don’t make me regret it.”

“you won’t!” gojo promised, practically vibrating with excitement. “i swear, this is gonna be epic.”

as they continued to tease and joke, the weight of the whole thing started to settle in for toji. 

he was actually… engaged. 

and having these two idiots with him, sharing the moment in their ridiculous way, made it feel real.

“seriously though,” suguru said softly, giving him a sincere look. “we’re happy for you, man. she’s good for you. and you’re gonna be an even better man with her by your side.”

toji took a deep breath, nodding. “yeah… i think so too.”

they shared a rare, quiet moment, before gojo predictably ruined it with a loud sniff. “okay, enough of the mushy stuff. let’s celebrate! someone find a cake!”

toji let out a laugh, shaking his head. he’d never admit it, but right then, with gojo’s exaggerated tears and suguru’s approving grin, he realized he had everything he needed — and he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

after the chaotic call with toji and, mostly, megumi, there was no way you were going back to sleep. megumi’s squealing declaration of, “you’re gonna be my mama!” had left you lying there, wide awake, in a sort of dazed disbelief. 

and really, who else would you call at an hour like this but shoko?

you dialed her number, tapping your foot against the floor as it rang, and it didn’t take long for her to pick up.

“it’s eight in the morning, this better be good,” she mumbled, her voice groggy but laced with intrigue.

“oh, trust me, it is,” you said, and just like that, all the excitement came rushing back. 

“toji proposed last night.”

there was silence on the other end. just as you started to wonder if she’d fallen asleep, she finally responded with a very eloquent, “wait, what?”

“yeah. proposed. last night. officially engaged,” you replied, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. you were still riding that high, and the fact that shoko, who was usually so cool and unflappable, sounded actually stunned was a bonus.

“no way.” you could hear her sitting up, probably rubbing her eyes in disbelief. “toji proposed? the same toji who spent half his life avoiding commitment like it was a death sentence?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “yeeeppp, that’s the one.”

“oh my god,” she muttered, and you could practically see her shaking her head. “i knew you two were close, but… this is major. i never thought i’d live to see the day toji fushiguro actually put a ring on someone.”

“honestly, neither did i,” you admitted, smiling. “but here we are.”

“here we are,” she echoed, sounding just as baffled as you felt. 

“man, this is going to throw satoru into a complete meltdown. you know he’s going to act like he’s the one getting married. brace yourself.”

you snickered, knowing she was absolutely right. “oh, i already know. i’m guessing he’ll throw himself a one-man wedding just to feel involved.”

shoko let out a bark of laughter, fully awake now. “and suguru? he’ll pretend he doesn’t care, but deep down, he’s probably lowkey emotional. i mean, it’s toji we’re talking about.”

“oh, i’m sure,” you said, grinning. “they’re probably off somewhere right now, grappling with the news, questioning how this could even happen.”

“please tell me you’re doing something to celebrate?” shoko asked, sounding genuinely excited now.

“well, i haven’t had much time to think about it,” you admitted. “toji’s with megumi at their place, and i’ve been mostly lying here, trying to wrap my head around it. but yeah, we’ll have to plan something.”

“good,” she replied, her tone a mix of fondness and exasperation. “you’re really going through with this, huh?”

“guess so,” you said, letting out a soft sigh. “i mean, the man wore me down with sheer persistence and probably some kind of magic spell.”

“hey, if anyone’s capable of luring you into marriage with his questionable charm, it’s toji,” she quipped. “alright, just promise you’ll let me know when i can start making sarcastic toasts about your love life.”

you laughed, feeling a bit of warmth in your chest. “deal. just, uh… don’t go too hard on him?”

“can’t make any promises,” she said, and you could hear her smile through the phone. “but seriously, congrats. i’m happy for you.”

“thanks, shoko,” you murmured, feeling a little teary-eyed again.

“don’t get all mushy on me now,” she grumbled playfully. “anyway, go get some sleep. you’ll need it to survive gojo’s emotional rollercoaster later.”

“noted. thanks for… you know, being there and everything.”

“anytime,” she replied, voice softer. “and hey, if you need help dealing with him, i’ll bring earplugs and champagne. we’ll get through it together.”

you hung up, a smile lingering on your face as you finally felt yourself relaxing, her warmth and dry wit making everything feel real. there were wild days ahead, but with people like shoko — and, admittedly, even satoru and suguru — in your corner, you figured you could handle whatever this wild journey with toji brought your way.

the planning was barely underway, but with gojo involved, it was already spinning wildly out of control.

“i’m telling you, the whole thing’s on me!” gojo announced, practically vibrating with excitement. he looked at you and toji with a glint in his eye that screamed no room for negotiation. “no expenses spared, no corners cut.”

you exchanged a look with toji, and he rolled his eyes. “we’re not celebrities, gojo. we don’t need you to go full kardashian here.”

gojo waved a hand dismissively. “nonsense! it’s your wedding. our wedding,” he corrected, gesturing grandly to include everyone. “i want nothing but the best for our girl and toji — even if he does look like he’s heading to a funeral half the time.”

toji snorted. “you’d look like this too if you had to put up with you on a daily basis.”

gojo gasped dramatically. “how dare you! i’m delightful!”

suguru, who was sitting back watching the chaos with his usual serene expression, piped up, “you know, he’s technically sponsoring it, so he’s not wrong. though i am begging you to leave the smoke machines and laser lights out of it.”

gojo gave suguru a mock-offended look. “oh, come on! think of the ambiance!”

“i’m thinking of it, alright,” suguru said dryly. “and it’s giving me a headache.”

“how about we go traditional?” you suggested, trying to bring some order to the conversation. “nothing too flashy. simple, elegant, you know?”

“but, mama,” megumi piped up, looking up from the sketches he’d been doodling. “we have to have the dragon fountain!”

toji raised an eyebrow. “dragon fountain?”

megumi nodded, eyes wide with excitement. “a chocolate fountain! but, like, huge and with dragon heads spouting chocolate!”

gojo slapped his knee, eyes gleaming. “genius idea, kiddo! a dragon fountain it is! we could even do white, milk, and dark chocolate heads. maybe throw in a caramel one, too!”

you shook your head, laughing. “and who’s going to eat all this chocolate? because i’m not sure megumi’s digestive system can handle that much sugar.”

“we’ll make it work,” shoko chimed in, flipping through a wedding planner book that she clearly swiped off some poor, unsuspecting bride-to-be. “if gojo’s footing the bill, might as well go all out. i’ll take care of managing his ambitions.”

“exactly! shoko gets it,” gojo beamed, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “and don’t worry, i’ll make sure to throw in an open bar. suguru, back me up on this — no wedding’s complete without one.”

“only if we don’t make it a neon glow theme,” suguru deadpanned. “or i’ll skip town on the day.”

gojo smirked. “okay, fine, we’ll tone it down. maybe we can go with a tasteful theme. you know, candles and chandeliers…”

toji eyed him suspiciously. “you better not pull any of those ‘tasteful’ surprises where everyone suddenly has glow sticks halfway through the reception.”

gojo crossed his heart. “scout’s honor. only sophisticated, adult fun.”

you leaned back with a sigh, sharing an exasperated smile with toji. “honestly, i was picturing something small and simple. i mean, it’s our wedding, not some movie premiere.”

“but that’s so boring,” gojo whined, flopping onto the couch with a pout. “it’s the event of the century! my best friend’s wedding!”

“we’re not giving you a starring role in it, satoru,” you replied, but you couldn’t help laughing. “it’s not the same as one of your campaigns.”

“pfft,” he waved it off, clearly ignoring you. “oh, and i’m bringing in a string quartet. suguru, thoughts?”

“a quartet’s fine,” suguru replied. “as long as you’re not personally conducting them.”

toji raised a brow. “wait, how many musicians do we need? i thought it was just a dj.”

“absolutely not!” gojo interjected. “this is a high-class affair, we need a live band for the ambiance. and maybe — just maybe — a marching band as we enter the reception. what do you think?”

“i think you need to sit down,” toji said, chuckling. “keep it up, and you’ll be banned from your own wedding planning.”

“and i’ll be running the whole show,” shoko added, smirking. “trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

“fine, fine,” gojo sighed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “but you can’t deny that i have style.”

you glanced over at toji, trying to suppress your laughter. “so we’re really doing this?”

he shrugged, grinning. “apparently. might as well enjoy the circus. just remember, all i need is you, okay?”

gojo pretended to gag. “gross, i think i just tasted actual romance.”

“you’re just jealous, gojo,” shoko teased. “let the man have his moment.”

suguru smirked, patting gojo’s shoulder. “come on, let’s go look into the dragon fountain, yeah?”

gojo lit up, giving you and toji a thumbs-up. “this is gonna be the best day of your lives!”

you shook your head, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth as you watched them all bicker and plan in their chaotic way. 

sure, maybe you didn’t need the dragon fountain or the live band or any of gojo’s grand ideas, but looking at everyone around you, you knew this was exactly the kind of crazy family you’d never trade for anything.

it was a whirlwind few months of planning, but in the end, everything started coming together…even if it took a little extra wrangling to keep gojo’s more eccentric ideas at bay.

first, there was the venue selection. 

gojo initially wanted a “renaissance castle, with a giant moat and a drawbridge,” which, he claimed, would make a “stunning entrance.” 

shoko quickly vetoed that. “this isn’t a medieval fair, satoru. we’re going for elegance here.”

then came the color scheme. 

gojo suggested “electric blue and neon green,” which he swore was “super chic,” but after he received enough horrified stares, he reluctantly gave in. 

the final choice? 

muted blues and creams, which, as shoko put it, “won’t make the guests feel like they’re trapped in a laser tag arena.”

then there was the music situation. 

“how about we have fien by travis scott for when you walk down the aisle?” gojo suggested with a grin, only half-joking.

“you want travis scott at the wedding?” you stared at him, incredulous.

toji looked equally appalled. “how about we play something that doesn’t have bass drops? we’re not clubbing.”

in the end, they settled on something classier — an instrumental piece by a local string quartet, though toji muttered about how the only reason he was going along with it was because it would make you happy. gojo had to be dragged out before he suggested sicko mode as the first dance song.

despite gojo’s quirks, megumi was probably the most eager of the group. every day at school, he proudly informed his teachers and classmates of the “big wedding coming up.” 

and his absolute favorite title for you?

“oh, my mama’ll be here soon,” he announced one afternoon, shocking his teacher, who had only ever known him as the kid with a hot, single dad.

“your…mom?” she asked, blinking in confusion.

“yeah, she’s coming today.” he said it so matter-of-factly that by the time you actually arrived, half the class was already convinced you’d been hiding in the shadows for years.

and when you walked into the classroom, every pair of eyes turned toward you, wide and incredulous.

“uh, hi,” you greeted, awkwardly waving as megumi bounded up to you, gripping your hand with a proud grin. “this your class, megs?”

“mhm! this is my mama, everybody.” he announced it loud enough for everyone to hear, looking back at his teacher. “see? if you need anything, just talk to her!”

you exchanged an amused look with toji later that day. “our son,” you chuckled, “may or may not have given his teachers a heart attack.”

“good,” toji grinned, ruffling megumi’s hair. “let ’em wonder.”

the pre-wedding festivities were somehow even wilder. 

gojo had gotten it into his head that he should coordinate the bachelor and bachelorette parties, because “who else could bring the flair?” to everyone’s surprise, he actually managed a tasteful, elegant evening — though he did keep his ‘last-minute party favors’ a surprise until the last second.

“here, just a little souvenir.” he handed out tiny, almost suspiciously pristine boxes. 

inside? custom bobbleheads of you, toji, and yes — even megumi, wearing a tiny tuxedo.

toji, upon seeing his, just stared blankly. “satoru, why do i look like a discount action figure?”

“it’s a memento, buddy,” gojo laughed. “something you’ll cherish forever.”

“you’ll cherish it in your nightmares,” shoko muttered, chuckling as she pocketed hers.

then, finally, the day of the wedding arrived, a surprisingly classy affair thanks to shoko’s firm guidance and gojo’s slight restraint. and as you walked down the aisle with the string quartet playing softly, you looked out at everyone — megumi’s wide-eyed excitement, shoko’s small smile, suguru’s approving nod…and gojo, wiping a “single sassy tear” away as he mouthed, “this could’ve been fein.”

and as you met toji at the altar, his smile a mix of amusement and affection, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the beautiful chaos that had led you here.

the ceremony had a cozy warmth to it, one that settled in everyone’s chests as you and toji stood before each other, eyes locked, hands intertwined. but all of it nearly paled in comparison to the pride beaming from megumi’s little face. he stood off to the side, clutching the ring pillow with a mix of fierce concentration and excitement. his little hands gripped the pillow as if it were the most sacred artifact on earth.

“okay, megs,” toji whispered to him, giving a little nod. “it’s your moment, champ.”

megumi straightened up, lifting the pillow and marching toward you with all the poise of a seasoned soldier, chin up and shoulders squared. when he reached you, he stopped and gave an exaggerated bow, then held up the pillow with both hands. 

“tall, just like i promised,” he whispered, looking up at toji with an earnest pride in his eyes. “i drank milk two times a day for this.”

you stifled a laugh as you took the ring from the pillow, smiling down at him. “all that milk’s paying off, huh?”

“mhm!” he beamed. “i think i’m taller already.” he gave a firm nod, looking satisfied with his growth, then shuffled back to stand with gojo and shoko, still watching the two of you intently.

toji grinned at him and turned back to you, holding your hands as he spoke his vows. his voice was steady, but you could see the faintest flicker of nerves — the soft, vulnerable side he only ever showed you.

“so,” he started, a little sheepishly. “i never thought i’d be the type to stand here, saying vows. but then i met you. first night we met, i figured you were just another person at a bar, and i’d never see you again. but then…you became everything. every single moment i’ve had since then, it’s all been better because you were there.”

you felt your heart clench as he continued, his voice soft but filled with a rare tenderness.

“i love you when you’re writing all those silly stories, when you’re with megumi, when you’re just…being you. and yeah, maybe ‘dancing queen’ playing in my head every time you walk in the room is cheesy, but… i’m a sucker for it.” he shrugged, his smile widening. “you make me a better man, even if i’m just a little rough around the edges.”

you couldn’t help the tear that slipped down your cheek as he finished, a gentle squeeze of his hands grounding you. it was your turn, and you took a shaky breath before starting, your voice full of affection.

“toji, i never thought…i’d be here, either. i spent my life writing about love, imagining it, but never really believing it was something i’d have for myself. and then you showed up.” you laughed softly, remembering the times you’d found yourself scribbling little details about him into your stories. “and now…i can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

toji’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you continued.

“you taught me to be brave, to open up. you showed me what it means to love someone and be loved in return. you and megumi — you two are my family, and i’m so grateful to be a part of yours.” you paused, swallowing down the emotion in your throat. “and i promise, every day, to be there for you, to love you, and…to keep dancing with you, even when we’re old and gray.”

his grin widened, and he let out a small chuckle. “gray, huh? guess that’s something to look forward to.”

with the vows said, it was time for the rings. toji slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands a little shaky, and you did the same for him, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your chest.

and then, as you leaned in for the kiss, just as your lips met his, the opening notes of dancing queen began to play. you pulled back, eyes widening in disbelief, while toji stifled a laugh.

“oh, come on,” he whispered, trying to hide his amusement. “did you…did you plan this?”

“me?” you shook your head, glancing around as you caught gojo giving you a thumbs-up from the crowd, a wide grin on his face. he’d clearly orchestrated it somehow, probably having the dj on standby.

“you can dance, you can jive…” the music continued, filling the room with a cheerful, infectious energy that made you laugh as you hugged toji tightly.

“guess it’s our song now,” toji murmured, his forehead resting against yours as he held you close.

“always has been,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand.

and as the music played on, megumi sprinted over to you two, tugging on your hands. “dance! we’re supposed to dance now!”

toji scooped him up, holding him between you as the three of you swayed to the song, laughing as megumi did his best eight-year-old version of dancing, wiggling in toji’s arms with unabashed excitement.

“i think i did a good job as ring bearer, don’t you think?” he grinned, looking up at you both with pure pride.

“you did amazing, mumi,” you said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“best ring bearer ever,” toji agreed, ruffling his hair. “all that milk really paid off.”

and as the night continued, filled with laughter, love, and a whole lot of dancing queen, you felt an overwhelming sense of joy that this was your family, your life, and the beginning of a lifetime of moments just like this one.

as you and toji stand together on the dance floor, the lights dimmed just enough to give it that perfect, romantic glow, everything felt like it was about to hit a new, sentimental level. the music was supposed to be soft, maybe perfect for a couple's dance — something wholesome and family-friendly to fit the moment. but then —

fein by travis scott. blaring.

you froze, eyes widening as the heavy bass dropped like a wrecking ball to your senses. this was not the song you had in mind for your first dance as a married couple. 

your gaze shot toward gojo, who looked… guilty but also way too pleased with himself as he fumbled with his phone.

“oh, shit!” gojo muttered, his wide grin faltering as he scrambled to fix his mistake, his fingers slipping all over his phone’s screen. “uh, my bad! wrong song, sorry — just — uh — lemme —”

before he could finish, you heard a loud “FUCK!” from across the room, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. suguru, looking oddly alarmed, had clearly noticed too. you had to hand it to him, though, gojo at least looked mildly embarrassed for the first time that night.

satoru’s hands flew over his phone with the sort of intensity one might reserve for disarming a bomb. “wait, wait, i got this. i’ll fix it — i’m so sorry — one second —”

as if the universe was playing along with your horror, gojo accidentally hit play on fein again, the heavy, thumping beat continuing in the background as you and toji both exchanged a bewildered glance. you could feel the burning heat creeping into your cheeks.

“that’s the one?” you whispered to toji, your voice barely audible over the beat.

toji tried to stifle a laugh, clearly more amused than shocked. “well, it’s something.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, your head turning toward megumi, who was looking at you with wide eyes. “what’s his excuse?” you asked with a sarcastic eyebrow raise, pointing at the very loud song still playing.

megumi, standing off to the side with a cocktail of confusion and excitement, crossed his arms and gave you a very serious look. “uncle gojo played this song,” he announced with pride, causing everyone to stop and stare. 

“you know, at the bachel-her party.”

the room went silent for a brief, awkward second as the realization hit everyone. a few chuckles broke out, with a mix of surprised snickers and a couple of “well, that explains things.”

you could barely suppress a laugh. you were so not ready for that bombshell.

toji’s face went from amused to fully amused, his lips curling into an undeniable grin. “yup,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear, giving a shrug. “that’s our song, apparently.”

gojo, finally managing to switch the song, looked over with actual concern now. “oh god, oh god, i’m so sorry — i swear, i didn’t mean for fein to be — ugh.” he slapped his hand to his forehead. 

“okay, okay, i’m fixing it —”

there was another flurry of frantic finger taps as gojo went into full damage control mode. finally, as the last few beats of fein faded out, gojo hit play on iris by the goo goo dolls, the gentle, familiar melody washing over the room like a sigh of relief.

you and toji exchanged a knowing glance, now suddenly locked in a much calmer atmosphere. the song that toji had actually requested was finally playing, and as he pulled you closer, your heart settled.

“better?” toji asked, pulling you into the rhythm of the song.

“much better,” you whispered with a sigh, your lips brushing against his.

meanwhile, megumi, clearly thrilled by his earlier announcement, grinned ear-to-ear. “this is the song! mama and daddy kissed to this song!”

and at that, you could only chuckle. what a night, you thought to yourself, completely unsure if you’d ever get used to the chaos that surrounded you, but not really minding it one bit.

as the soft notes of iris continue to play, toji pulls you close, his hand resting warm and steady at the small of your back. you sway together, feeling every beat, every strum of the guitar wrapping around the both of you like the sweetest memory.

“so,” toji murmurs, a little smirk tugging at his lips as he looks down at you, “do i still get to be a heartthrob now that we’re hitched?”

you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully. “only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you say, barely holding back a laugh as you remember the early days of your writing. 

“you’ve made peace with the fact that your wife has a, uh… let’s just say colorful bibliography?”

toji’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “you kidding? i brag about it. ‘you know my girl? bestseller, faceless author, author of all those spicy scenes.’ you think it’s cringe; i think it’s hot.”

you snort. “you’re impossible. i still remember you giving me the most unimpressed look when you found out what i actually wrote about.”

“hey, i was surprised,” he defends, grinning as he twirls you out and back into his arms. “who knew the girl who pukes on people’s shoes was writing, uh, dragon-king-mating scenes?”

“oh, hush,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat. “i told you, it’s a metaphor for forbidden love and courage in the face of adversity.”

“yeah, sure, it’s all about the ‘courage,’” he teases, leaning in close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead. “all i’m saying is, those scenes of yours? they’re, uh, kinda what won me over.”

you hide your face in his shoulder, feeling a happy flush spread across your cheeks as you sway together under the soft glow of the lights. “guess it’s too late to be embarrassed, huh?”

he tilts your chin up with a gentle finger, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen it. “it’s what made you you. wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

the song swells around you, and as the lyrics hit their most tender line, toji leans down, brushing his lips against yours, a sweet, slow kiss that feels like the first all over again. when you part, he grins, shaking his head. “damn… still can’t believe i got lucky enough to make you mine.”

“only took a few months, a few trolls, and a lot of questionable genre choices,” you say, snickering.

“and one too many ‘dancing queen’ sing-alongs,” he adds, laughing softly.

as the song fades, the two of you stand there for a moment longer, gazing at each other, just happy, laughing, and a little teary-eyed.

the night is winding down, and as you and toji make your rounds to say goodbye, a familiar cluster of chaos catches your attention. gojo, shoko, and geto have managed to gather near the dragon-shaped chocolate fountain, each of them clearly feeling the effects of the open bar in different ways. 

megumi is standing with them, arms crossed, his small face set in a dead-serious expression that would have been almost intimidating… if he wasn’t standing beside a towering chocolate dragon, looking very much like a tiny mob boss supervising his drunk henchmen.

“ahem.” gojo clears his throat, squinting dramatically up at the chocolate dragon, hand pressed to his heart. “‘and so, the beast gazed upon the fair maiden, his molten eyes devouring her with a hunger so fierce, the very heavens trembled —’”

you choke back a laugh as toji groans under his breath, muttering, “for the love of god, not this.”

“that’s one of your lines, isn’t it?” shoko says, smirking as she precariously holds her cigarette in one hand and a half-empty wine glass in the other. “gojo’s been quoting it all night.”

“that’s from the mating scene!” megumi exclaims, clearly unaware of the implications. “that’s where the dragon’s supposed to eat —”

“aaaannd let’s maybe not finish that line, huh?” toji interrupts quickly, clapping a hand over his son’s mouth.

gojo winks, wagging a finger. “hey, let the kid express himself! it’s culture, toji. classic literature!”

“uh, yeah. classic,” you say, trying not to snort as gojo raises his glass to the dragon fountain like he’s toasting it.

geto, meanwhile, is slumped against the fountain, head lolling to the side. he’s still upright — barely — but he looks like he might be one sip away from face-planting into the chocolate. 

“persephone wines, my beloved…” he mutters, raising his empty glass before letting it drop with a sigh. “sweet nectar of the gods.”

shoko snickers, jabbing him in the shoulder. “lightweight.”

“am not,” geto mumbles, eyes half-closed. “i’m… selectively conscious.”

“selectively conscious?” toji repeats, eyebrows raised.

“he means he’s out cold but doesn’t want to admit it,” shoko says, shrugging as she lifts her cigarette to her lips, only to nearly dip it in her wine glass instead.

“don’t mix your drink with your smokes, shoko,” gojo warns, chuckling. “unless you’re going for that extra flavor.”

“yeah, yeah,” she grumbles, carefully balancing the cigarette away from the wine glass. “why does this fountain look like it’s judging me?”

“because it’s a dragon, and dragons don’t approve of your vices,” gojo says, patting her shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. “they are noble, chaste beasts.”

“then why’d it drink all the wine?” shoko deadpans, gesturing to the near-empty fountain where the wine had been topped off earlier.

meanwhile, megumi, still solemn, looks up at toji with wide eyes. “daddy, i don’t think uncle geto’s feeling well.”

“nah, kid, he’s… he’s just really appreciating the art of, uh, selective consciousness,” toji says, ruffling megumi’s hair.

gojo swoops down, putting his hands on megumi’s shoulders. “you’re absolutely right, young megumi. you know, you have a strong sense of observation. very wise of you.”

“thanks,” megumi says, puffing his chest up, as if the compliment has suddenly made him five years older. he looks over at geto. 

“uncle geto, are you gonna fall asleep now?”

geto waves a lazy hand in the air. “nah, i’m just… uh… recharging.” he attempts to give a thumbs up, but it’s more of a half-hearted flop.

toji sighs, looking at you with a smirk. “we’ve gotta start taking megumi to different family gatherings.”

you grin back, watching as megumi, with utmost seriousness, turns to shoko. “don’t let your cigarette fall in your wine, auntie shoko. it’ll taste funny.”

shoko salutes him, barely holding in a laugh. “don’t worry, kid. i got it handled.”

just then, gojo raises his glass to the chocolate dragon again. “to the majestic beast, who has blessed us with chocolate and a fountain! long may it reign!”

“it’s a fountain, not a king,” megumi says, frowning. “and it’s chocolate, not magic.”

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my young padawan,” gojo says with mock seriousness, kneeling down to megumi’s height. “tonight, everything is magic.” he waves a hand around as if he’s casting a spell, and megumi’s eyes widen, half-believing him, even as he tries to stay serious.

toji rolls his eyes, laughing. “all right, let’s wrap this up before someone thinks you’re actually casting spells on my kid, gojo.”

as you lead megumi back, he tugs on your hand, whispering, “mama, are they always this… funny?”

“always,” you whisper back, grinning. “but don’t tell them that. we’ll just let them think they’re profound.”

“okay,” megumi whispers, stifling a giggle as he steals one last glance at the chocolate dragon.

the night’s finally winding down, and somehow, all of you have ended up sprawled in the open venue like you’re camping under the stars. shoko’s leaning back in her chair, taking a deep drag of her cigarette, but she keeps glancing at megumi, who’s sitting between you and toji and nodding off in your lap, his little head bobbing up and down.

“you know, i’m not trying to be a bad influence,” shoko mutters, trying to angle her cigarette away. “but it’s hard being an icon.”

toji smirks, watching her struggle. “yeah, we all know you’re a real role model, shoko. a true beacon of health and wellness.”

“hey, i’ll have you know i haven’t let this thing drop once tonight,” she says, demonstrating by carefully holding it at a ridiculous angle. “takes precision.”

meanwhile, geto’s leaning against the chocolate fountain — completely passed out, slumped over like he’s waiting for the chocolate to baptize him. you can already see a smear on his collar where it’s dripped, and it’s only a matter of time before it’s all over him.

“is he just gonna… sleep there?” you ask, stifling a laugh as you glance at geto’s chocolate-streaked suit.

gojo, lying on the grass like he’s sunbathing, starts belting out, “she thought it was the ocean, it’s just the pool —”

“oh god,” toji groans, “don’t tell me you’re singing sicko mode right now, gojo.”

“don’t disrespect a banger, toji,” gojo says, eyes closed, waving his hands around like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra. “this is the music of our generation.”

shoko snorts, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “what generation is that? ‘trashy late twenties’?”

“more like ‘perpetual adolescence,’” you add, trying not to laugh too loud, lest you wake megumi.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” gojo mumbles, now onto the next verse and fully invested. “i am the culture.”

toji raises his eyebrows, giving you a look. “i don’t remember ‘culture’ looking this drunk.”

“or this dramatic,” you reply, glancing over at geto. “do you think he’ll wake up covered in chocolate?”

“oh, definitely,” toji says, nodding with mock seriousness. “he’ll be sticky for days.”

“wonder what he’ll tell people when they ask about it,” you say, grinning.

“just gotta tell them it’s part of the, uh, life experience,” shoko says, flicking ash off her cigarette. “you know — ‘don’t go to weddings with chocolate fountains.’”

“or uncles with questionable song choices,” toji adds, glancing at gojo.

“excuse me,” gojo slurs, sitting up to squint at you both. “my taste is immaculate.”

megumi stirs, blinking up at you with sleepy eyes. “why’s uncle gojo yelling?”

“he’s not yelling, sweetheart,” you say, petting his hair as he leans back against you. “he’s just… expressing himself.”

“in a way that makes us all wish we were deaf,” toji adds under his breath.

gojo points a finger, swaying slightly. “hey, the kid gets it. you get it, right, megumi?”

megumi yawns, nodding seriously. “i get it, uncle gojo.”

“see?” gojo says, looking triumphant as he turns back to you all, gesturing like he’s just won an argument. “my number one fan.”

shoko rolls her eyes, snubbing her cigarette out and pulling out another. “well, congrats on your massive fanbase.”

megumi glances at you, then at gojo sprawled out on the grass. “is uncle geto gonna be okay?”

you look over at geto, still fast asleep, chocolate slowly trickling down his sleeve. “yeah, honey, he’s fine. just a little… messy.”

“very messy,” toji agrees, chuckling. “just… don’t touch his suit when he wakes up. he might, uh, have some sticky spots.”

megumi nods sagely, as if absorbing some profound wisdom. “got it, daddy.”

gojo squints up at the sky, suddenly philosophical. “you know, someday, this kid is gonna be sitting here with us, yelling sicko mode with his whole heart.”

toji raises an eyebrow. “oh, over my dead body.”

“and shoko will still be lecturing us about cigarette angles,” you add.

shoko raises her glass. “as long as this fountain keeps flowing, i’m here, people.”

you and toji exchange a glance, each of you feeling a little warmth at the ridiculous, messy sight in front of you: shoko trying not to ash on megumi, gojo doing terrible karaoke on the grass, and geto about to wake up covered in chocolate.

“found family, huh?” you murmur, nudging toji.

“the best kind,” he says, slinging an arm around you and giving you a soft smile. “drunk as they may be.”

the hour finally ticks to a close, and as much as you’re all reluctant to end the night, it’s time to gather your things — and your people. the first challenge: waking up suguru, who, by this point, is practically glued to the chocolate fountain.

“alright, gojo,” toji says, clapping him on the shoulder, “time to work that charm of yours and wake him up.”

gojo, slightly wobbly himself, crouches down beside suguru and starts lightly patting his face. “rise and shine, buddy,” he says, voice soft but persistent. “time to say goodbye to your chocolate fountain dreams.”

suguru stirs, eyes fluttering open, and as he groggily lifts his arm, he finally notices the chocolate smeared from his shoulder to his wrist. his eyes widen in absolute horror.

“wha… why am i covered in —”

“chooccoolate!” gojo singsongs, smirking. 

and then, in a flash of inspiration (or tipsy madness), he starts singing, “i get those goosebumps every time —”

suguru visibly cringes, letting out a low groan as he struggles to stand. “i swear, satoru, if you keep singing travis scott, i’m never inviting you to another wedding.”

“but you’re never getting married, suguru,” shoko points out dryly, lighting her cigarette with a sly grin.

toji and you exchange a look as suguru desperately tries to wipe chocolate off his shirt with the tiniest napkin available. meanwhile, gojo’s at his side, still humming “goosebumps,” ignoring every glare suguru shoots his way.

“satoru, i’m going to kill you,” suguru mumbles, half-heartedly, as he inspects the damage.

gojo just shrugs, beaming. “c’mmoonn, sugu boo. who else can say they’ve bathed in chocolate at a wedding?”

suguru gives a low growl, eyeing gojo’s still-grinning face. “considering how close you are to me right now, it might be your last experience.”

“oh, lighten up, chocolate boy,” gojo teases, attempting to wipe some of the chocolate off suguru’s cheek with his sleeve. “besides, what’s a wedding without a little mess?”

megumi, watching this exchange with wide eyes, tugs on your sleeve. “mama, do all weddings end like this?”

you chuckle, ruffling his hair. “only the good ones, sweetheart.”

as you finally start herding everyone out, suguru’s still muttering darkly about chocolate-stained suits and “inappropriate” song choices, while gojo is just barely resisting the urge to belt out the next verse of goosebumps.

“you guys are a mess,” toji says, shaking his head with a smile, his arm around you. “but i guess i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“same here,” you reply, smiling back. “same here.”

all of you pile into the limo, grateful for suguru’s one stroke of foresight, booking this ride while everyone was still sober. as you maneuver your wedding dress inside, megumi insists on climbing onto your lap, declaring with all the authority of an eight-year-old, “mama knows how to hold me right.” he gives toji a pointed look, as if his dad’s lap-sitting skills just aren’t up to par.

“excuse me, kid,” toji grumbles, adjusting his position to give you both more space. “i think i know a thing or two about carrying you. who else makes you pancakes every sunday?”

megumi shrugs, completely unfazed. “pancakes are great, daddy, but mama gives better cuddles.”

you stifle a laugh, giving toji a look of faux pity. “don’t take it personally,” you say with a grin. “he’s right, after all.”

suguru, meanwhile, is eyeing your dress with near-maniacal caution, inching away as if any move might accidentally graze you with chocolate. “i swear,” he mutters, inspecting his own suit for stray smudges, “if this dress ends up looking like a chocolate fountain threw up on it, i’m sending blondie the dry-cleaning bill.”

“hey!” gojo’s leaning halfway out of his seat, one arm slung dramatically around shoko, who looks five seconds away from needing a cigarette fix. “don’t bring me into this! i’m innocent in all things chocolate.”

“satoru, you literally shoved my face into it,” suguru deadpans, “and serenaded me while you did it.”

gojo waves this off, now onto more important matters as he leans in and rambles, “you know, what’s really baffling is political and economical state of the world right now. that’s the real travesty here. and i’m telling you, if they’d just let me —”

shoko groans, pressing her head against the window. “does anyone have a cigarette? please? my kingdom for a cigarette.”

“sorry, shoko,” you say, chuckling. “think of it as part of the wedding cleanse experience.”

as the limo cruises through the city streets, carrying your chaotic found family toward your new home — the fushiguro household, now your household — you lean back, looking around at everyone. suguru, still chocolate-stained but pretending he’s fine; gojo in full-on philosophical mode about everything from global warming to city planning; shoko, pressing her hands together in mock-prayer for a nicotine miracle; and megumi, snug and content in your lap, his eyelids growing heavy as he fights off sleep.

toji catches your eye and reaches over, intertwining his hand with yours, a soft smile gracing his face. “ready to make this house our home?” he murmurs.

you squeeze his hand, taking in the laughter, the exhaustion, and the overwhelming happiness filling the limo. “more than ready,” you say, your heart swelling as you look around at this motley crew you wouldn’t trade for anything.

it’s a mad, loud family, but it’s yours.

as everyone practically spills out of the limo, gojo’s in full swing with the limo driver, pressing a crumpled wad of cash into the poor man’s hand. 

“no, no, you don’t get it, dude,” gojo slurs, with a look of utmost sincerity. “this — this is not just money. this is… appreciation. this is the currency of human kindness.” he pats the driver on the shoulder, swaying a bit as he leans closer. “use it wisely… maybe buy yourself a castle. or a yacht. or a little… dog. something that’s life-changing.”

the driver gives an awkward thumbs-up, flashing a quick glance at the rest of you, clearly wondering if he needs to call someone to get gojo home safely.

meanwhile, toji’s already wrangling everyone toward the door, shoko dashing past him the moment the suite door opens. “please tell me you still keep an emergency stash,” she says, practically sprinting toward the mini bar. “for my sanity.”

“yeah, yeah, knock yourself out,” toji mutters, eyeing the chaos that’s just ambled into his home. as he does, megumi somehow finds himself perched on gojo’s shoulder, practically screeching as gojo does a wobbly loop around the living room, giggling, “it’s cuddle time! everyone needs to embrace the love!”

“uncle gojo, put me down!” megumi’s half-exasperated, half-amused as he tries to wriggle free. “i don’t need cuddles, okay?”

gojo gasps as if megumi’s words are a personal affront. “excuse me? everyone needs cuddles! it’s essential for growth! and happiness! don’t deny yourself, little one.”

suguru slumps onto the sofa, still blinking himself awake from his chocolate coma. but unfortunately, his landing spot is also where a chunk of melted chocolate has found its new home. 

he sighs in defeat, barely lifting his hand to wave at toji. “i swear i didn’t bring the chocolate here. it… it followed me.”

toji’s had just about enough. “alright, everybody, listen up.” he points at gojo, megumi, and suguru, who all look up like chastened kids caught stealing from the cookie jar. 

“before any of you touch anything else in my suite — or each other — go change. now.”

“but i am changed,” gojo protests, arms flailing out as if to display his wrinkled suit as high fashion. 

“changed by the power of love. and a little bit of persephone wines, which, by the way —”

“clothes, satoru,” toji says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he ushers everyone down the hall. “as in, ones that aren’t covered in alcohol, chocolate, or other questionable substances.”

megumi looks up at you, tugging on your dress. “do i have to change too? ‘cause i’m fine just like this.”

you smile down at him, patting his messy little head. “just pajamas, okay? then we can all cuddle up on the big bed. sound good?”

“okay, mama!” he says, darting off to grab his pjs, excitement back at full force. “hurry up, everyone! daddy said so!”

as you and toji finally manage to herd everyone toward the bedrooms and out of their various states of disaster, you can’t help but laugh. this, somehow, is the perfect end to your wedding night — a makeshift family piled up in a cozy heap, as unconventional and chaotic as ever, but perfectly yours.

in megumi’s room, you and shoko finally get a chance to breathe, away from the chaos. you pull out one of toji’s oversized shirts and a pair of shorts, feeling instantly cozy as the familiar scent of him settles around you. 

meanwhile, shoko slips into a t-shirt of yours and some spare leggings you’d left for nights just like this — megumi’s last-minute “you have to stay!” pleas that always won you over.

as shoko pulls the t-shirt down, smoothing it over her frame, she gives you a little smirk. “well, don’t we look like a couple of sleepover queens?”

“only the best for auntie shoko,” you say, giving her a playful nudge.

shoko rolls her eyes, leaning back against megumi’s wall. “speaking of… i was thinking.” she pauses, letting out a sigh, her fingers absently running through her hair. 

“maybe i could… y’know, try and cut down on the smokes. for megumi. last thing i want is him being a passive smoker every time ’m around.”

you smile at her, feeling a swell of warmth at the thought. “oh, shoko. you don’t have to change anything for him — he already adores you just the way you are.”

“yeah, but…” she shrugs, looking down at her hands, uncharacteristically shy. “i wanna be around. y’know? like, really around. and if that means giving up a little bit of my precious nicotine, then…” she huffs, as if the idea is both noble and annoying. “then i’ll do it. for him. but only because he’s the cutest kid i know.”

“you’re really going soft on me here,” you tease, watching her with a grin.

she laughs, nudging your shoulder. “don’t get used to it. i’ll still talk trash about satoru and his ‘save the world’ speeches every chance i get. but…” she pauses, catching your eye with a slight smirk. 

“i don’t know, this whole… you and toji thing, it’s made me think a little differently. like, maybe i could be the cool aunt without corrupting the kid entirely.”

you chuckle, nodding. “hey, a little bit of corruption isn’t the worst thing. but i know what you mean. it’s nice, isn’t it? having this… makeshift family?”

“nice? it’s downright ridiculous,” shoko scoffs, but her eyes are soft. “i mean, i spent the last hour watching suguru melt into a chocolate-covered mess and satoru wax poetic to the limo driver, all while toji was trying to keep from strangling the lot of us. and now here we are, pretending to be responsible adults.”

“that’s the beauty of it, though,” you laugh. “none of us really knows what we’re doing, but somehow it just… works.”

shoko smiles at that, a real, genuine smile, her usual sarcasm melting away for just a moment. “well, whatever it is, i’m in. auntie shoko, reporting for duty. megumi’s gonna be spoiled out of his mind, and if anyone tries to mess with him, they’ll have to go through me first.”

you laugh, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “he’s lucky to have you.”

“nope,” she says, leaning in and bumping her forehead against yours. “we’re all lucky to have each other.”

there’s a comfortable silence, the two of you just sharing the moment in a quiet way that doesn’t need any more words. a kind of unspoken understanding hangs in the air, one that only comes from years of friendship and late-night heart-to-hearts like this.

and as you both start to head out, you catch her glancing back at megumi’s room with a soft expression, the tiniest hint of a smile lingering on her lips.

down in toji’s room, it was another brand of chaos entirely. gojo was sprawled across the bed, bouncing his leg impatiently as he kept knocking — more like pounding — on the bathroom door.

“yo, ruru! you still smell like a candy shop in there, or are you finally coming out as a functioning human?” gojo called, knocking for what felt like the tenth time.

inside the bathroom, suguru groaned, scrubbing furiously at his arms. “if you knock one more time, satoru, i swear, i will dunk you in a vat of chocolate and make you regret the day you were born.”

gojo cackled, delighted. “you’d have to catch me first, chocolate boy.”

meanwhile, toji was across the room with megumi, helping him into his little pajamas. megumi stood still as his dad tugged his pajama top over his head, looking up with big eyes.

“daddy?” he asked, his voice soft and a little curious.

toji glanced down, smiling. “yeah, kiddo?”

megumi fidgeted with the hem of his pajamas. “does mama get to stay forever now?”

toji’s face softened, and he crouched down to look megumi in the eye, his hand gently ruffling his son’s dark hair. “yeah, bud. she’s with us now. part of our family for good.”

megumi’s eyes lit up, and he tried to stand even taller — he was growing, after all. “so she’ll be here when i wake up every day?”

toji chuckled, nodding. “every day. and every night too, so you don’t have to worry about anything. she’s with us.”

megumi nodded seriously, like he was processing the weight of it all. “i gotta make sure i don’t mess up then.”

toji raised an eyebrow, surprised. “mess up? why do you think you’d mess up?”

“well… i wanna make her happy too,” megumi admitted, glancing down. “like you do.”

toji’s heart melted a little as he hugged his son tightly. “listen, kid. you being you? that’s more than enough to make her happy. trust me.”

megumi looked up, reassured. “okay. i’ll be the best son ever, promise.”

“you already are,” toji said, smiling.

right then, gojo’s voice cut through the father-son moment as he yelled through the bathroom door yet again. “suguurruu! come on, we’re all waiting! we’re a family, we’ve got things to discuss, like who’s picking the next karaoke song, and why it absolutely has to be ‘freak on a leash.’”

suguru yelled back, voice echoing through the bathroom, “for the last time, i’m not doing karaoke, satoru! and if you don’t let me scrub off this chocolate smell in peace, you’re gonna be next!”

toji sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at megumi. “and that,” he said with a smirk, “is the family you’re stuck with now, kid.”

megumi grinned. “good. i think they’re funny.”

“funny’s one word for it.”

the morning after the wedding was supposed to be calm and slow, but the second megumi padded down the hall, any hopes of quiet went straight out the window.

"mama, dad, i gotta go to school!" he said, trying to sound all responsible but still rubbing sleep from his eyes. he even brought his backpack to your room, a whole mini-adult, as if that would magically make everyone get out of bed faster.

toji groaned, wrapping an arm around you to keep you in bed. "can’t he just... skip?" he muttered into his pillow, half-asleep.

before you could answer, an all-too-loud, way-too-enthusiastic voice boomed from the hall. 

"time to shine, future valedictorian!" gojo practically sung, bursting through the door in last night’s slightly wrinkled suit, sunglasses on, and his smile at full wattage.

behind him, shoko and geto shuffled in, looking equally disheveled and far too awake for this hour. shoko held up her coffee like it was a badge of honor, and geto just nodded, bleary-eyed, clearly not yet regretting his life choices.

"so," shoko said, pointing to megumi with her coffee mug, "we’re taking the kid to school. it’s what, like, a fifteen-minute trip?"

“yeah,” you mumbled, not even fully awake yet. "are... are you guys seriously doing this?"

megumi's face lit up like christmas. “really? in the limo?” he looked over at his dad with big, excited eyes. "i’ve only ever been dropped off by daddy before, mama.”

toji mumbled something that sounded like, "don't tell your teachers i’m lazy," and rolled back over, pretending to go back to sleep.

"don’t worry," gojo said, waving it off. "cool uncle 1, cool uncle 2, and cool aunty got this."

megumi was practically vibrating with excitement as he tugged shoko’s hand. “can we leave now? pleeeaseeee?"

shoko raised an eyebrow at you and toji. “guess that’s a ‘no’ on you two getting up?”

toji waved them off, still face-planted in his pillow. “take him. we trust you… mostly.”

the limo looked ridiculous in front of the modest little school building.

every teacher on duty stared as gojo stepped out in yesterday’s clothes, still wearing his sunglasses, dramatically opening the door for megumi like he was some hollywood star.

geto leaned out of the window, waving. “our megumi, ladies and gents! future ceo, dragon whisperer, and… what is he into now? legos?”

“legos and iron man,” shoko supplied from the backseat, sipping her coffee and grinning like this was the most fun she’d had in weeks.

megumi hopped out, beaming, as if this was the normal way eight-year-olds arrived at school. "see ya later, cool uncles and aunty!" he called, and waved back at them as he headed up the steps.

one of the teachers, looking absolutely bewildered, approached gojo. "uh, sir? are you megumi’s… guardian?"

gojo held a hand over his heart, like he was moved. "oh, i’m his honorary uncle. the honored one. very honored. super honored. we’re just doing our part as responsible adults, you know?”

shoko snorted from the car. “yeah, responsible adults. let’s not tell his dad about the chocolate fountain incident from last night.”

“or the fact that geto’s gonna have to reupholster his couch,” geto muttered, barely holding back a laugh.

meanwhile, megumi turned back one last time and yelled, “tell mama and daddy i said bye!”

gojo saluted. “will do, young sir! now go conquer the day!”

they all watched him walk in, looking like a pint-sized executive in his little backpack. as soon as the doors closed behind him, shoko sighed. “alright, now who’s up for coffee? because i’m still running on fumes.”

"coffee?" geto asked, deadpan. "we’re gonna need a gallon of it if we’re keeping up with that kid."

as the limo pulled away, gojo turned to them with a grin. “you know, i think we make an excellent drop-off crew.”

“mmhm,” shoko said dryly, shaking her head. “i’m sure the teachers would totally agree.”

as the limo pulled away from the school, gojo, shoko, and geto leaned back in their seats, stretching out like they’d just wrapped up a grueling mission.

“alriiight,” gojo said, kicking his feet up, “where are we headed for breakfast, my esteemed colleagues in chaos?”

“anywhere that’s not serving chicken nuggets or juice boxes,” shoko muttered, eyes barely open behind her sunglasses. “and somewhere with unlimited coffee, because if i have to function at nine in the morning, i need caffeine by the gallon.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head. “how is it that we’re the ones going out for breakfast after crashing their wedding?” he looked at gojo, grinning. “and how are they the ones staying home?”

gojo smirked, crossing his legs. “we’re giving them the gift of peace and quiet. i bet toji’s loving the chance to stay in bed with his lovely wife, all cozy and uninterrupted.”

shoko snorted, leaning over with a conspiratorial grin. “give them fifteen minutes max before they realize we took the limo and left them stranded.”

“oh, toji’s probably still asleep,” geto said, waving her off. “and if not, he’s probably thinking we’re doing him a favor. don’t forget, we’re the ‘cool’ uncles and aunty. we’re just out here, uh…” he paused, raising a brow, “fulfilling our responsibilities.”

gojo cackled. “yeah, we’re absolutely winning the ‘best support system’ award this year.” he held up an imaginary award plaque. “and the winner for best, most responsible friends goes to… the limo crew!”

shoko took a sip of her coffee, laughing. “you’re just mad you didn’t get to be the one carrying y/n in her dress down the aisle yesterday.”

“hey!” gojo gasped, mock-offended. “i was ready, okay? i would’ve been the perfect escort. i even practiced the, you know —“ he mimed holding someone dramatically in his arms. “but no, she insisted on doing it herself.”

geto rolled his eyes, grinning. “it’s her wedding, satoru.”

“yeah, yeah, i know,” gojo said, waving it off. “but it was cute seeing him get all sentimental.” he put on a comically deep voice, imitating toji. “‘come on, baby, we’re gonna go build our life together,’” he said, making exaggerated romantic gestures. “like, okay, toji, way to set the bar high for the rest of us.”

shoko grinned, nudging geto. “hey, suguru, you taking notes? maybe one day you’ll be saying those sappy lines to your wife.”

geto laughed, blushing a bit. “hey, let’s keep the heat on toji, alright? no need to make me the topic of conversation here.”

gojo raised a hand dramatically. “oh, don’t worry, we’ll keep it on toji. like how he’s always acting like mr. tough guy, but the second y/n looks at him with those puppy eyes, he’s suddenly mr. marshmallow.”

“he’s such a marshmallow,” shoko agreed, laughing. “he’ll deny it till the end, but you know he’d do anything for her. i mean, the man threatened a chocolate fountain for her yesterday.”

“let’s not forget he almost punched the caterer over the dessert display,” geto added, grinning. “and that was after he demanded only the best for the ‘mother of his child.’”

gojo clasped his hands together, putting on a dreamy look. “ugh, true love. what an inspiration.”

they all shared a laugh, shaking their heads at the image of toji as the world’s biggest softie for you, his new bride. the limo pulled up to a cute little cafe, and gojo leaned out of the window, calling, “table for the three most responsible adults in town, please!”

as they piled out, geto chuckled. “we are absolutely going to milk this ‘responsible adult’ title all morning.”

“oh, absolutely,” shoko said, walking in. “and i’ll need a bottomless coffee just to keep it going.”

they slid into a booth, ordering way too much coffee and breakfast, ready to dig into a morning full of laughter, snarky jokes, and ridiculous stories.

“to toji and y/n,” gojo toasted, holding up his coffee mug. “may they never know the horrors we’ve saved them from.”

“cheers to that,” shoko said, grinning.

tag: @elysian-chaos @lemonlimecrystal-blog @crunchyholo @cheesecakebroom @inthedarkshadows000 @amayaaaxx @sweetsformysoul @vitoshi @qyuin @mypashionisforfashion @crocodilethesir @starmapz @kyokoyya @lauuriiiz @ciexuvia @blubearxy @coffee-and-geto @lveegsoi @yuminako @cipher-needs-2-sleep

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[identityflawed]

to every single arcane fan on the planet who is pissed at caitlyn for her actions in s2 act 1, please listen to me:

you are right to be pissed, that’s kind of the point, but hating her means you have to hate… like every other character. grief is a powerful factor in almost all of arcane and the motives of every character are based in something they’ve lost: whether it’s family, ideals, reputation, land, etc, they’re all dealing with loss and that causes them to act in morally-challenging ways. because that’s what grief does. a loss unthinkable causes actions unthinkable.

caitlyn joins the grief club a bit later than your other main characters, jinx and vi. but unlike jinx and vi, we actually see cait’s actions fresh off the block. the time cuts in act 1 only showed the clean-cut effects of losing their parents on the bridge, and then the new jinx and vi that occurred after the five (?) year time-skip after the explosion in the warehouse. you don’t see them when they’re full of raw grief and terror and illogical actions. you don’t see how severely vi was beaten in prison, how she must’ve lashed out in response to being taken away from her sister, how she continuously made the situation worse for herself because she felt like she deserved it, that she should’ve fought harder, been a better leader and a better sister. we don’t see jinx’s mental breakdowns afterwards, we don’t see how silco grooms her, how he uses her for his literal and emotional goals, how she’s shattered and how she pushes people away because of her own mistakes… but we’re seeing it with caitlyn, we’re seeing the rawness that comes with all of it, and we’re seeing how that impacts the narrative and other characters. people who haven’t grieved don’t seem to understand that it is like containing a storm, and you cannot do it by yourself, all of the time, and sometimes it gets out to other people if they press hard enough.

arcane is very cyclical in the way that all characters follow the same path, over and over again. caitlyn and jinx are following narrative paths, especially when you compare ambessa to silco. i do wonder if jinx knows that silco stabbed vander, that he was the one who ruined everything, hired the goons to jump them and scared her into dropping their haul from jayce’s workshop, etc. i wonder if the reason she continues to spiral is because she doesn’t know, and if caitlyn will get the same treatment with ambessa’s betrayals and her hand in the attack on the memorial.

whatever the case, you cannot defend jinx and hate caitlyn. they are not the same, i understand, but they are both products of massive grief that they blame themselves heavily for.

back to the idea of grief being a storm, because the most common gripe i see with caitlyn is how she promised vi she wouldn’t change, and then changed within a day. this isn’t… this is not an unreasonable course of action from caitlyn, given the situation and how she’s feeling. she is like… at most, a couple weeks out after her mother’s death. it is still an incredibly fresh wound, and she is sort of hinging her entire self-worth and identity on her ability to make the shot that resolves this feeling inside of her. she doesn’t get to make that shot, and fresh off of that miss, that realization that the fight is going to be prolonged and that vi is not as unattached to jinx as she says she is…

both of them made strange promises in that tunnel that they didn’t quite keep. how can you blame vi or caitlyn for picking their family over the girl they met less than a month ago? isha was a wildcard in that fight, but they both knew that caitlyn wouldn’t actually miss the shot. vi didn’t flinch when caitlyn shot 2 inches behind her, vi didn’t flinch when cait shot the gun out of isha’s hand, or the finger from jinx’s, etc, etc. it wasn’t about missing, it was the realization for vi that she can’t just cut herself off from her sister (especially when there’s signs that powder is still in there), that it is much easier said than done. and for cait, it was the realization that vi is not with her. that vi never changed.

that’s kind of the issue. vi didn’t want caitlyn to change, but caitlyn wanted vi to change, and they’re both in situations that demand change and stagnancy, respectively. see what i’m saying? does any of this make sense?

[eluminium]

WILD LIFE IMPULSE MAKES ME SO WEIRDLY SAD GUYS ISTGGGGGG- MAYBE I'M JUST HIGH OFF OF MY OWN SUPPLY BUT MY GOD.

People treat him like he's somehow massively different from how he used to be, even some of his own allies. They think he's causing problems on purpose, they think he's intentionally being difficult and getting in the way of things. He's changed for the worse. But really, what HAS changed about Impulse in WL compared to earlier seasons? From what I've seen, it's only one thing.

He wants to win. He's made it known that he's aiming for that metaphorical crown. Outside of that one verbalized goal, Impulse has not changed in the slightest. He's still doing the things he's always done.

I mean, think about it. Is there anything Impulse has DONE (not said) that's especially mean, traitorish or troubling? The only thing I can think of is in this newest session (aka session 4) where he and Pearl do some minimal stealing from Joel and Gem, but this thievery is way after their reputations as troublemakers began! Really, the only thing you could argue before this is the cow situation in sessions 1-2, but come on. Accusing Gem and Joel of stealing their cows wasn't the biggest leap in the world, y'know? However, it is kind of unlike Impulse to lash out and accuse someone of something like that. He's usually pretty quiet about situations like this, instead choosing to stew in his frustrations and develop a grudge.

And I think that's what is making people uncomfortable in this season. Impulse speaking out. Impulse demanding things. Impulse making his wills and wants known. And it's something I find so tragic in all of this. People are uncomfortable and untrusting of Impulse because, for once in his god damn lives (many of them), he openly wants good things for himself. And they're not even unreasonable things! Of course, he wants to win, everybody wants to win! But because he never says what he wants normally, it's reminding people (especially allies) that he might have his own goals that could get in the way of their goals.

But, and this is probably the biggest tragedy of all, Impulse doesn't actually prioritize himself that much more than before. Yeah, he's louder than usual, but look at his actions. Anytime he's had to act on anything, he chooses to do more or less whats best for his team, instead of himself. He apologizes to Gem when instructed, he moves together with the rest of the 4Gs to the new base despite voicing how the old base was safer, he tries to clear the air with Ren despite the fact Ren killed him so they can have another ally against Grian (no gurantee the grudge won't come up again though, BUT FOR NOW).

And of course, he does what he always does. Works as hard as he can to make sure his team is as safe and armed as possible. I mean, he builds a creeper farm TWICE, he goes mining for diamonds and says out loud that he wants to get enough so ALL of them could have full diamond armour, he builds a chicken farm for them to have a reliable food source! He's still Impulse, doing what Impulse does best. Pearl even CALLS HIM OUT on this near the end of session 4, saying: "So Impulse, where's the chaos bone? Where is it? You've been too tame today, what's going on?". And Impulse rationalizes by pointing out he lost 3 lives last session and isn't willing to start something he can't finish and how he's "gearing up because this is the calm before the storm!"...and then instantly giving himself another grindy task to do next time in the form of going to the Nether to get resources.

Because he's just doing what he always does, falling back into the same team-pleasing behaviours. Because what he wants most isn't actually winning, despite what he tells himself. He wants someone to want him, to care about him. And the best way he knows how to make people care about him is to show how useful he can be to them. It also doubles as insurence, because if he cannot be wanted, the resources will make sure he will be needed. And if he cannot be needed...he'll let his team use him until there's nothing left of him, until there's no more purposes for him to have. Not because he wants that, in fact he'll usually say the opposite, but because it's the only thing he knows. Work, work, work and keep going because if he just puts in enough honest effort he can get anything he wants, right?

And this loops back to people being overly suspicious of him this season. Because people-pleasing, resource gathering, mild-mannered Impulse is the Impulse people are used too, and the Impulse that is the most useful to them. You can really see this almost subconcious mindset in the gossiping between Scott and Gem in session 4. They talk about how Impulse has a weird tone of voice this season, how he's causing problems, and how they miss the "kind and trustworthy" Impulse from Secret Life. But he's not that different, and he hasn't actually done anything major. Except for expressing his wants more than usual, especially his want to win. But that's already enough of a change in his behaviour to be a problem. Scott and Gem are longing for the Impulse who's an extremely useful and dedicated asset who will grind his ass off for the good of his team without anyone even asking, making sure they got everything they need to survive, but at the same time he doesn't get in the way. He doesn't cause any sort of problems, justified or not, and he doesn't have any wants of his own that could clash with their wants. This "new" Impulse who expresses his goals openly is a possible threat they have to account for, even if he's still mostly the same old reliable Impulse.

And in a depressing way, this makes sense, doesn't it? Imagine, in this death game of betrayal and opprotunism and paranoia, you have a person who gladly gets you everything you needed. Armour, weapons, potions, food, tools, farms, everything! Without even having to be pushed at all! In fact, he's all the more happy to get you something if you ask! And he barely asks for anything in return in comparison. You can more or less pay him in a job well done, and he'll be satisfied. He's easy to mold, easy to incorprate into your goals and wants. Isn't that so nice? So reliable? You have 99 problems but at least this isn't one! Now you have something safe to cling onto in all this chaos.

...Now imagine if that ally suddenly started talking about what HE wants. He starts making demands, standing up for himself, and letting his anger come out. No matter how small these moments are, it's gonna throw you for a loop! Why would he act like this when he never has before? Why would he suddenly start having goals that aren't yours? Why is he confronting you about something you didn't even do instead of grumbling in a corner for a bit? Now he might be a problem, his goals could directly clash with yours. Actually, the fact he's doing this at all means he's up to something. I mean, the motivation has to come from somewhere! Now you hear it in his tone, in his speech patterns, in every moment he doesn't completely roll over for you, and even in the moments he does! He could be a threat now, and you don't like that. You miss the old version of your ally. He's broken now, he needs to be fixed. Keep working with him so he'll revert back to who he used to be, back to when he was quiet. Jokingly call it therapy while you're at it.

IT MAKES SENSE. AND IT SADDENS ME SO MUCH. ESPECIALLY WHEN IMPULSE ISN'T EVEN GAINING ANYTHING FROM THIS BECAUSE HE'S ACTUALLY NOT WORKING FOR HIMSELF AT ALL. HE'S BEEN LABELED A PROBLEM BECAUSE HIS PERSONAL GROWTH, HIM FINALLY TRYING TO PUT HIMSELF FIRST FOR ONCE, IS A THREAT TO HIS ENEMIES...AND HIS ALLIES.

Of course he isn't fully innocent in anything, nobody is, but it's just so sad how all of these factors, factors where no one really is in the wrong, work together to create a situation where Impulse has a reputation looming over his head that he can't even take advantage of. And it's in the season where he wants to win, too...WILD LIFE IMPULSE MY SPECIALIST LITTLE GUY....

[feligayzed]

WRITING JUMPSCARE 💥💥💥

This was a short little drabble I scribbled up a HOT minute ago when I first saw the nefarious "destroy painter" screenshot, along with Zeal's comment about how Sebastian would kill you without thought....or something along those lines you get the idea

The first and only time I've written in 2nd person 😢 sorry you are NOT kissing the fish

Once again I don't do endings ENJOY

Wc: 582

You're walking down a hallway when a vent pops out of the wall. Subconsciously you're expecting a remark from Sebastian, beckoning you inside, but the soft-spoken words never come. The absence of the greeting unnerves you, but you're familiar, so you don't hesitate to duck inside the vent.

He's not there.

You're dumbfounded. He's always there, coiled in the corner of his shop, his findings neatly displayed along his flank. Always. You know of the mutant's obsession with data, and you've got quite a haul, so why-?

You're barely half a step inside when you're wrenched off your feet, a haggard gasp forcing its way from your lungs as you're slammed up into the wall with remarkable force.

"Let's ditch the formalities, yeah?"

Static swims in your vision and you can feel yourself fading, but a sharp backhand to the face jerks you back to reality. Instinctively you reach up to coddle the sting, but the stunned gears in your mind suddenly start churning. You're dangling. You're choking. Your hands instead fly to the massive fist straining around your neck, feet scrambling for purchase. The effort is futile.

Sebastian's face is inches from yours, jagged teeth bared in a snarl. Scales scrape against concrete as he repositions his long serpentine body, tail lashing dangerously behind him. His third hand twitches for the shotgun at his side, but he doesn't draw it. The space is suffocating. You're trapped.

"I know who you are, and you know what you did. Are you satisfied? Do you feel accomplished? Do you feel vindicated, that it was a righteous decision, that he deserved it, so why should you feel guilty?"

His voice is laced with venom, a gutteral growl rising in his chest. The pinprick of claws in your neck is hardly noticed as a primal fear jumpstarts your heart, blood pounding in your ears. What is this about? Who?? Your terrified mind races to put together the pieces, what the hell could have made him react like this. The fucking computer....??

You open your mouth to get a desperate word in, but his fist clenches tighter, cutting you off completely. His eyes flash cold and lethal, and you see now that there is no humanity left in his feral gaze. At least not for you.

"You're fucking pathetic. You, and all the other desperate pieces of shit they sent down here. I should slaughter you all. Right here, right now. I'm tired, Expendable. Sick and fucking tired of granting you all politeness. Why should I? Why should I, when all that you are is a disgusting, worthless, undeserving sack of shit they could easily get their greedy hands on.

You're nothing. No one will miss you. No one will wonder about you. No one will be here to clean up your bloody mess. I'm going to tear you apart, limb from fucking limb, and I'm going to relish it. All this talk of mercy, it's all bullshit. You're going to rot down here, and I'm going to revel in the knowledge."

In a jerking motion too fast to register, you're sent sprawling onto the dusty concrete floor. White hot pain bloomed down your sides, and distantly you knew your ribs had shattered. Unfortunately that was the least of your concerns. His bulk moved to block the vent you came in from, and you slumped in defeat as any hope of escape bled out through the punctures in your neck.

"Eat shit and die loser." The End!!

[seungsuki]

so there's this professor... - 03 tea with ghosts masterlist

“it wont fit!”

“it will stupid. just let me do it and stop moving!”

“it's too big alvin!”

“am i interrupting..?”

the room fell silent. what was going on? you and alvin had been assigned to clean the classroom, and things were already going a little haywire as you both struggled to refill the ink pens for your math professor. but this? this was a whole new level of awkward.

you glanced over to see a man standing in the doorway, looking a little lost. his charming green eyes sparkled as a small smile played at the corner of his lips- his presence almost reminding you of a main character in a romance manga. were you… seriously crushing on a total stranger?

“lord moriarty?? here at our university??” alvin rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

confused, you turned back to alvin just as he quickly stood up and gave a small bow. before you knew it, he grabbed your arm and tugged you to your feet, gently pushing your head down in an awkward bow of your own.

“no need for the formalities,” the man said, raising a hand in amusement. “i’m rather lost”

“what brings you to our university, lord moriarty?” alvin asked, already pushing you behind him like he was some sort of protective shield.

“i dropped off some snacks for my wife. she’s a professor here, and now i can’t find my way out,” albert flusteredly sighed. 

“i can escort you out, let us first pack up or else professor moriarty will scold us about the mess”, alvin turned around and shooed you back to cleaning 

“professor moriarty..?”, albert repeated 

“professor william james morarity! he’s our mathematics professor! he’s so cool! you should see him teach some-” 

“he knows idiot”, alvin cut you off with a flick on your forehead 

albert turned to you with a raised brow. “and you two are...?”

“i’m [name] [last name], and this is my best friend, alvin leroy!” you quickly introduced

“more like my only friend,” alvin muttered under his breath, distracted by counting some papers.

“oh you both must be the students who gave william a set of chalks? it was very thoughtful of you both”, albert recalled. “he carries around the cloth everywhere” 

“he does?”, you asked, bewildered. you hadn’t known that.

“great.. just great”, alvin groaned, rolling his eyes at your reaction.

“might just be his good luck charm”, albert continued.

your face shaded in red, looked away as silly imaginations ran into your head. your professor kept the gift? it made you feel special, almost like you were the only star in his eyes 

“come on, let’s go,” alvin sighed, slinging your bag over his shoulder.

“i’d love to invite you both for some tea and simple talk,” albert said, his smile widening. “it would make your professor very happy”

“we have to study,” alvin replied, grabbing your hand as he headed for the door.

“oh, but he can help you study,” albert countered, stepping in front of alvin to block his way.

the two men stood there, sizing each other up in a moment of unexpected tension. what was going on? you could almost feel the chill in the air.

you shook off the unease, deciding to speak up. “we’d love to!”

“no, we’re not going-”

“great! after you?” albert said, waving you forward with a smile.

and that was how you ended up standing in front of the moriarty mansion, your jaw practically on the floor. it was massive. alvin, looking at you questionably, sighed heavily before placing his hand under your chin to close your mouth. 

“this place… is huge!” you whispered loudly, eyes wide.

“i have eyes, genius,” alvin muttered. “now stop gawking at everything.”

“i didn’t think professor moriarty would be this rich,” you whispered again, feeling a little self-conscious. “my gift must’ve been pocket change for him.”

“that’s why i told you, it’s a waste of money. we could have gotten our usual rolls for snacks”, alvin grumbled

albert led the way, smiling warmly. “unfortunately, i can’t accompany you further. my wife needs me. let me introduce you to louis- he’ll show you around.”

he gestured toward a blonde man standing nearby. louis was strikingly similar to william, with ruby-red eyes that seemed to lock onto yours the moment they met. he offered a small smile, and you couldn’t help but feel your face flush. did… you just find yourself crushing… again?!

“why can’t you look at me the way you look at them…” alvin muttered under his breath as he pulled you a little closer.

“what did you say?” you asked, confused.

“nothing,” alvin grumbled, flicking your forehead to distract you.

louis cleared his throat. “brother william is upstairs in his office. this way”

as you walked through the house, you had to admit- it was simpler than you expected. maybe it was just your first impression, but it felt a little underwhelming after seeing the mansion’s grand exterior.

alvin, on the other hand, seemed even more pissed off. he just wanted to head home with you, to his mother’s flower shop. you both would have been eating snacks, talking and laughing over the silliest things you can find. then walk behind to the big field and guess the cloud shapes 

but there was no turning back now. louis led you both to the door of william’s office, knocking before stepping inside.

you froze when you saw your professor. he was sitting at his desk, papers scattered around him as he meticulously marked assignments. he looked up with a warm smile, clearly surprised to see you both.

“leroy? [last name]? what a pleasant surprise,” william speaks. “please, come in”

“professor!” you exclaimed, skipping in eagerly.

“wait for me. i’m not your babysitter- carry your own bag!,” alvin groaned, trailing behind you.

you sat across from william, and alvin placed both of your bags beside him before sitting down on a nearby chair. william put aside some papers to give you both his full attention.

“what brings you here?” william asked.

“lord moriarty insisted we come,” alvin answered before you could. “trust me, i’d rather be doing something fun.”

william chuckled softly at that, clearly amused. you took the opportunity to recount the whole story, leaving out no detail. william listened attentively, nodding along as you spoke. his eyes were focused on you, and you couldn’t help but notice how intently he was looking at you. was he really listening to every word, or was he just being polite?

you suddenly grew self-conscious, your words stumbling as you realized how much attention he was giving you. you could feel your cheeks burning up. why did your professor have to be so charming? you almost let out a dreamy sigh just thinking of him 

alvin, sitting quietly beside you, watched everything unfold. a strange feeling began to stir in his chest. on one hand, he was happy to see you interacting with someone you liked- someone who seemed to appreciate you.

on the other hand, he starts to feel a heavy tug in his heart. he didn't like how nauseous he was suddenly feeling. what was so special about professor moriarty? yeah he was rather good looking, knowledgeable, respectful- but isn’t he the same?

“you’re gonna drive him mad from all that talking” 

alvin cuts you off, looking william in the eye. he moves his hand, allowing his fingers to brush the edge of your chair. then with light force, he pulls your chair closer to his. it wasn’t forceful, you could barely even feel the movement before you realized your chair was beside him.  

you looked up at alvin, his hand resting lightly on your chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wood. his eyes were fixed on your professor, but the look had changed. it was no longer just curiosity. it was something more… almost threatening? 

you shake off that thought, it sounded stupid. why would alvin want to threaten your professor? william watched the entire thing unfold, seemingly amused by the action. he tilts his head, his calculating ruby eyes figuring out what alvin really wanted 

“anyway,” alvin continues. “since we’re already here, i’ll have some orange juice, and [name] can get some tea. oh! and some of those fancy cookies- the ones from lord moriarty’s collection you know?”

silence, before william lets out a small chuckle, nodding to his student. maybe you were over analysing the situation after all. it was rather funny, watching alvin list off the things he wanted to eat while william was hearing him out 

“oh and the answers to our homework- thanks prof”

TAGLIST

@eliasorchard @ayaswrld @iris-arcadia @onna-musha-mari

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images are from pinterest.

[revelboo]

reader: *engaging in asshole cat behavior to piss of prowl*

prowl:

Pretty much 🤣

Stand Too Close Pt 7

IDW Prowl x Reader

• Why are you like this? For some reason he can’t understand, you’ve taken it into your little mind to deliberately try to antagonize him or provoke him. It makes him almost miss the days when you just ignored him or sulked in a corner. Freezing when you decide that you absolutely need to sprawl across the back of his hand on your belly so you can draw crude, inappropriate little pictures on his report to Optimus. “Find somewhere else to be,” he growls, tipping his hand to dump you off. Aware of the slide of your little, warm body against him as you straighten and glare up at him.

• Whatever that was between you had been electric, scandalous and exciting. And your personal enemy is now going out of his way to not touch you ever since. Actually trying to avoid you like he hadn’t been the one to get handsy and pin you down. Like your current frustration isn’t entirely his fault. Blowing out a breath from your spot where he’d dumped you, there’s no figuring him out. What you do know? Something has to give. Ever since realizing big and unpleasant can get closer to your size and that he might just have a freaky side? That’s the only place your brain wants to go. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I kidnap you and ruin your life?”

• Door wings lifting stiffly, he glares as you stand up and lean a hip against his knuckles, insisting on touching him again. Arms crossed while you raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. He knows you’re baiting him, but he still grits his denta. “You ran out in front of me, remember?” He growls, struggling with that smug look on your face that makes him itch to do something about it. Remembering shocking you speechless when he pinned you for all of a handful of seconds before you got even angrier. Remembers exactly what that had done to him.

• “You’re a cop car. How was I supposed to know you’re too stupid to understand how crosswalks work?” The data pad in his big servos cracks. And then he’s shoving up from his desk so fast his chair turns over. Glaring down at you like he’s considering squishing you like a bug. Fingers digging into your upper arms to hide the faint, nervous tremble, you smile sweetly. “Oh, did I find a nerve?”

• You’re trying to provoke him. Even knowing that, he’s still lunging. Mass shifting again even though he feels the drain to his reserves from the massive expenditure of energy too soon after the last and knows he’s going to pay for it later. For now there’s your satisfying little yelp as he catches you by the arm and yanks you into him, his other arm cupping the back of your head when you try to rear back. There’s that anger that twists in his spark. “Not nearly so bold now,” he growls, lip curling as you actually bare your little teeth at him and he remembers that startling lick of pain when you’d bit him.

• Big hands on you, pinning you to him as the jerk smirks. But he’s your size again or closer to it anyway. Tugging against his grip just to feel his servos tighten against you, because you like it even if you’ll never be able to admit it out loud. “You think?” You ask him and he leans closer like he’s daring you to try and bite him again. And it’s tempting, but using the brush guard on his chassis to boost yourself, you lunge, mouth crashing against his in anger and frustration and need all twisted together.

Previous

I think Soundwave may be winning for most shelf space taken

[peppered-moths]

strangler fig

cw: mildly dubious consent

That’s how little that reputation board meant.  Grian’s fingers curl around the flint and steel.  He lights sparks absently, watching as they char small holes into the already flimsy bridge he’s sitting on.  The moon rises, slow and languorous, washing the server in shades of pale gray.  He kicks his feet over the edge. 

It’s what he’s been wanting to say to Scar since… since.  Well, he’s said it now, and that’s all that really matters.  Grian shakes his head, clearing the thought from his mind.  Sparks jump as he drags the flint and steel together.  One lands on his hand, burning into his skin.  Grian winces, half-hearted.

“Careful,” a voice chides.  Danger flashes in his mind faster than he can think, and he’s already on his feet, whirling to point his sword towards the intruder.  

Scar grins back at him from the shadows, green eyes flashing.  “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”  He raises a hand, dotted with pale scars across the knuckles, as an example.

It takes a moment for Grian’s brain to catch up with everything.  He doesn’t lower his sword, even though his wrist aches and he knows the point is trembling.

“Like you’d care about me getting hurt,” he grits.  “Go away, Scar.  It’s the middle of the night.”  He can’t deal with this right now.

“What, I can’t make a friendly visit to my neighbors?”  Scar’s using that smooth, salesman’s voice, the one that always makes Grian wrinkle his nose.  He steps down from where he’s been sitting on the railing, not unlike a cat, and smiles even wider like he thinks Grian will fall for it.

“You have to schedule an appointment,” he tells Scar flatly, waving his hand in the direction of the top of the mountain.  “We’re not available.  Go home.”

“Aw, can’t you make an exception?”

“No,” Grian snaps, this time gesturing with the point of the sword.  Scar pouts, but moves closer anyways.

“Hey,” he says, “I mean it.  Leave.”  This should be the part where Scar goes.  Sometimes with head hanging, sometimes with tight, angry shoulders, sometimes with someone else, but he always listens.  Grian can count on him for that much.

Scar does not listen.  He tries to skirt the edge of Grian’s blade, but he turns the point back on him.  He’s seething now, and has half a mind to plunge the sword into Scar’s heart, green name be damned.

Still, he gets closer, until Grian’s sword is hovering above the fragile skin of his throat.  It’s too much, and he shuffles a half-step back, only for Scar to keep following, to deliberately press the underside of his chin into the sharp point.  A thin rivulet of blood, dark in the night, spills down Scar’s collarbone, soaks into the edges of his vest.  It makes Grian feel a little dizzy.

“What’s your game?” he hisses, like he’s the one in control of where the sword ends up.  “Or do you just have a death wish?”

Grian can deal with Scar on the other side of a blade.  He can hurt him on the other side of a blade.  Any closer, and he starts remembering bruised knuckles and blood at the corners of his mouth.  Any closer, and Grian starts wanting to touch him.  So he holds Scar at swordpoint.  Whatever mind game Scar thinks he’s playing, he won’t back down for a little blood.

He just smiles again, the scars on his face rippling silver, and Grian wants to scream.  He’s not sure why he doesn’t really; Mumbo and Skizz would be awake in seconds, and Grian wouldn’t have to deal with the danger that is Scar in the moonlight.

“What if,” Scar says slowly, “I said I was apologizing?”

“Then you can do it in the morning.  But you’re not here to apologize.”  That much is obvious by the way Scar continues to grin, like it’s all some massive joke.

It does stop him continuing to inch towards Grian, though, and he looks like he’s contemplating for a moment.

“You’re right.”

“Hn?”  He’s distracted by another bead of blood tracing the hollow of Scar’s throat.  Remembering what it’s like to wrap his fingers around it.

“I’m not here to apologize,” Scar tells him cheerily, and there’s something in his eyes that stops Grian short, struggling for something to say.  He places two gentle fingers on top of Grian’s sword, pushing it down, away from his neck.  Grian’s hands are shaking.  He offers no resistance.  Scar presses forwards.

“Stop,” Grian says.  He doesn’t beg.  He doesn’t.  “Stop.”

“But you don’t really want me to, do you.”  Scar takes another step closer, something intent in his eyes.  Grian moves backwards in tandem, until there’s nowhere else to go, just the two of them on an unsteady bridge, his heart pounding in his throat.

“I don’t think you really even care that I killed you,” he continues, and Grian presses his hands against the wooden railing, desperate for something to ground him.  He doesn’t know when he dropped his sword, only that it’s shimmering on the ground far away from him and far too close to Scar.

“I hate you,” he says.  “I hate you.”  It’s something not unlike a prayer, something that he wants to be true so very badly.

With a careless movement, Scar kicks the sword off the bridge.  He stares in dismay as he watches it hit the ground far below, then realizes too late he’s taken his eyes off Scar.

“I think I know exactly what you want.”  And then he’s too close, armorless and throat bared, blood still running, and Grian wants to kill him.  He wants to run away.  He’s pinned down by green eyes, too knowing.

“Don’t,” and it’s barely a shaky breath.  He can’t muster up the force to say anything else, to want anything else.  Scar leans close, intent as ever.  

Scar’s lips are still soft.  It feels awful.  Grian hates it, even as he returns the kiss, heartbeat staccato.  The wooden edge of the railing digs into the small of his back.  He’s never felt so trapped.  He presses his thumbs into the divot of Scar’s collarbone, settles his fingers around his neck, tries to feel in control.  It’s even worse that Scar lets him, humming against his mouth.  Grian doesn’t know why he’s doing this.  He doesn’t know why he’s letting Scar do this.

Scar tilts his head against Grian’s hands, brings his own down to settle on his waist.  It’s this touch, somehow, that jolts Grian out of whatever fugue he’s in.  He presses harder into Scar’s throat, forces him away from his lips.

“What the hell do you want, Scar,” he says, voice rough from kissing.  His mind still swims a little bit, but he’s aware enough to recognize the fact that Scar is trying to seduce him and desperate enough to want to fall for it.  He wonders, vaguely, if this is Scar’s way of convincing him not to hunt him down the moment he goes red.

Scar just swoops in again, even though Grian bites sharply at his bottom lip.  He doesn’t want this–not right now, not like this, not here, whatever it takes to make him go away and let Grian lick his wounds.  Scar’s fingers curl, near-possessive, into his waist.

When they finally come back up for air, Grian takes his chance and shoves Scar away from him, immediately moving a few steps away.  Scar’s hand goes to his throat, smeared with blood and already darkening fingerprint-shaped bruises.  Grian steadfastly ignores the way that makes him feel, the twist in his stomach and the nonexistent matching bruises on his knuckles.

“Go,” he says, trying to minimize the shaking of his voice.  “I don’t care what you want.  Just leave me alone.”  Scar opens his mouth.  Stops.  His lips are reddened, probably from when Grian bit him.  He doesn’t look like Grian thought he would, like the cat who got the cream.  He just looks a little lost, as if he’d expected something more.  Too bad for him.  Grian can admit to Scar being a damn good kisser, but he still remembers hitting the ground, the pain that still lingered in his jaw as it fractured.

“I– Grian–”

“I really don’t know what you’re not getting,” he spits.  Scar stares for one more second, eyes brilliant in silver etching.  And then he turns away.  Grian does his best not to watch him go.  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and tastes a hint of coppery blood.  It makes him grit his teeth.

He can’t help remembering the way his hands fit around Scar’s throat as he starts the trek down to recover his sword.  Next time–there wouldn’t be a next time.  Grian had hated it, every moment of it and the way it made him feel.  The copper in the back of his mouth stings.

He’d show him.  He’d show him what it’s like to fill his mouth with blood, to get stabbed in the back.  What it was like to feel helpless. Next time, he thinks, staring at where Scar’s back had vanished.  Next time.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Onstage

What - it's nothing to panic about, Lori's secret pregnancy, Shane's changes for the worse, Sophia gone for over a week, and now a barn full of walkers. It's fine. No big deal, nothing is wrong, so you're gonna step onstage and act like it. On the bright side, Daryl isn't stuck in a bed anymore!

When - the morning after Keep this dog asleep. (the night where Glenn discovers the barn in Season 2)

Who - this is part of the Slowpoke Series, which is a canon compliant slow burn Reader x Daryl. You're also Shane's younger sibling

Pronouns - she/her

TWs - a few cusses, panic, bad screenshots

References - lots, y'all, want the Masterlist?

Length - longer bc I've been awol, I've been dreading posting again, friends, so thank you much for reading. Kind feedback is always welcome :)

“Goodness. You two slept together.”

“Wha—Carol!” you squeak, accidentally splashing some coffee on your hands while you’re at it, to which Carol apologizes, “Oops!”

Glenn and you fell asleep beside each other, by the fire pit. You two must have conked out while staring at the barn.

Brr, the sun hasn’t warmed the day yet, you’re like an ice-pop.

“Wh’appened?” Glenn mumbles, still half-asleep in Dale’s camp chair.

Carl, freshly freed from the house and now officially back to the tents, also wanted to know, “What was the joke?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Carol whispers in your ear and wipes the coffee off your hand with a tissue she had in her pocket.

That ship has sailed, Carol!

Lori smiles and shakes her head, and hands Glenn a coffee cup. “Carol was teasing them about having spent the night out here. Must’ve stayed up far too late having fun.”

“‘Fun,’” Glenn groans to himself, blindly nursing his coffee. You notice he winces and reaches for the back of his neck when he tries to bend it forward. Must’ve slept on it wrong.

“How late did you guys stay up?”

“I don’t even know, little man,” you answer Carl while reaching out for a hug. “But ‘far too late’ sure is correct.”

He returns your reach and hugs you back, tucking his head down across your neck like he used to when he was little. You press a kiss to his temple and hold him awhile longer, not wanting to let go first.

It’s good to have started the day on an up-note. You’re already on guard this morning. Less so about the genuine, bona-fide barn full of walkers on the property and moreso that Glenn won’t keep the secret long enough.

Which is backwards, but…the worry is that Shane will, um, and, and— oh God, and Carl can’t go near it! What are you gon—

“—Here, Maggie left these for you two.” Lori has returned and plunks down what resembles an Easter basket filled with peaches.

“Wait, should you be lifting heav—” Glenn cuts himself off, apparently having woken up a brain cell and remembering the pregnancy is still a secret.

You run onstage and speak up for Lori. “That’s how her arms stay so toned. Can you believe she hand-whipped the cream for the ambrosia?” Solid improv.

Lori seems to tamp down on whatever frustration she’s feeling. “It’s not heavy, Glenn.”

“Mom can lift so much, that puny basket of peaches is nothing,” Carl tells him, apparently thinking Glenn was being silly.

Rattled, it takes a moment before Lori recalls what she was talking about. “Maggie also gave us a bucket filled with tomatoes along with another big bowl of eggs. We have to find a way to thank them. They’ve done so much.” She sighs. “Even last night, we cooked the meal, but they provided the food. Meat, even. All we contributed food-wise was the field green salad and the two cans of creamed corn.”

You’ve got to keep it to yourself that by not revealing the Greene’s massive secret about a barn full of walkers, you’re certainly giving them some kind of fucked up recompense.

And like you said last night, there are worse things to be bribed with than food. In fact, you have no immediate plans to do anything other than sit here, miserably tired, in T-Dog’s camp chair and stress-eat peaches — and stick close to Glenn lest he get the urge to open Pandora’s box about that barn.

“Carl, Miss Patricia hopefully mentioned how the barn is unstable? They won’t even go near it, and we are forbidden.” You swipe a peach and have at it. The juice dribbles down your hand and chin. Carl smirks. You snort; at least he’s seen you look grosser. So, in a very ladylike fashion, you shove the rest of it in your mouth in one bite and immediately swipe another. “There’s some kind of vermin problem, too, and you don’t want none of them diseases rats and the like carry. Keep away.”

Mid-chew, you realize that you just lied flawlessly by slipping in truth. You’re not big on lying. In fact, you hate it. You don’t do it, or, at least you think you don’t? Do you?

This and the weight of last night’s inward decision that you made sits heavy in your stomach, making the peach sink like a rock.

You’re going to leave, with your brother. Shane can’t stay here, not when the news of the baby and now the barn gets out. You’ll even go to Fort Benning despite all your misgivings. Anything to keep things from imploding here when those secrets get out. Not, um, not that you’ll stay away forever from the group, just until, um…

Well, if looks are any indication, Glenn’s also busy being miserably tired and stressed. He was the one to discover the barn’s secret, first off. And he’s not good with secrets, and now has three to contend with. The pregnancy, Shane losing his temper and physically hurting you. And now, the stupid, stupid, awful barn.

“Did your head flop down when you fell asleep, Glenn?”

“It must’ve, it’s so stiff!” he mutters. “I can’t have a stiff neck when the…”

Smart, he knows not to finish the sentence and instead resumes warily eyeing the barn. You’re grateful your neck is fine and dandy, you’re in no fit state to mess up your neck or shoulder again. For real, by the grace of God, you’d fallen asleep nestled in T-Dog’s camp chair and your neck stayed blessedly straight and untwisted.

“We search for Sophia in groups, it’s all good,” you cover for him. Carl is still next to you, so the fewer questions, the better.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but you’re restless. Seeking something to busy your hands with, you think to yourself you know what? Your friend could use a massage. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, considering you slept together (lol).

Shoving the rest of the second peach in your mouth, you consider that slurping the juice off your hand may be a mite untoward, so instead you…wipe it on the clothes you wore all day yesterday and fell asleep in…such a feminine, classy woman. Didn’t even brush your teeth last night.

Whatever, a neck and shoulder rub is the least you can do for a friend you may not see again. “Glenn, I can do you a massage,” you offer.

“Wait. Really?”

“’Course.” Let’s face it, you may not see him again after you leave. Maybe no one here, just look at the track record of losing peop — oh my gosh, crybaby much? Get your butt back onstage and act fine.

“Can you, with your arm still wrapped like that?” he checks regarding your modified sling.

“Sure can.”

“Dude, that would be, like,” Glenn sighs, then you hear Lori call for Carl, who gets up and goes to his mother. “Thank you, that would be awesome, it hurts really bad,” your friend accepts.

“Eh, it’s the least I could do, considering last night we did,” pause for dramatic effect, “sleep together.”

“What the f—”

“—Bro, I know.," you drone. "That’s what Carol joked about a few minutes ago. Didn’t expect that joke outta her, right?”

“Slept together, now I get it,” he cracks up halfheartedly. But in an instant, his gaze gets drawn right back toward the barn and resettles into uneasy, blatant stare.

That rattles you. Suddenly, you become convinced he’s gonna spill the beans before the one week (at least one week!) trial. For a few moments, you feel breathless, as in you can’t inhale enough. That happened last night, too, you figured it was because of the cold air.

You cough, inhale extra deep. The sensation goes away. But now you’re starting to get mad. As you rise from the chair, you’re more than conscious of your inner kettle beginning to simmer. Not gonna lie, you sound snotty when you comment, “Glad to see they didn’t learn how to jump as high as a hayloft and find their way out yet.”

“Y/N.”

In lieu of any new comeback, you start on his neck. Immediately and likely without meaning to, he lets out a thankful groan. That warms you, and you remind yourself he’s worried for a good reason and that you love your friend.

And, strangely, then you think back to how you did this for Daryl, gave him a massage. How pleasant the closeness felt, how strange it made your stomach feel. How he’d silently cried but was vulnerable enough to ask you not to stop…

And with the jokes about you and Glenn, you’re feeling some unpleasantly conflicting emotions. Full disclosure, you’d had some hidden and very unwelcome hurt feelings when you found out about him and Maggie. Residual, you reckon, from when you’d two had a little fondness (lol Dale) for each other.

Really, you know it’s just that you’re lonely and things are stressful. Ugh, more than stressful.

“Wanna kick the ball around later with the others, see if the girls can’t beat y’all this time?” Together, Jimmy and he have been an unbeatable team so far, and you three girls want to change that.

“Anything to make the pharmacy trip suck less.”

You’d forgotten all about that. It’s supposed to feature none other than Glenn, Maggie, yourself, and maybe T-Dog. “That’s still on?”

Glenn shrugs. “I don’t remember. And I don’t want to go today, let’s do it tomorrow or Monday.”

“Fine by me. Naught dire we need yet.”

He unexpectedly exhales in pleasure when you must’ve hit a spot he needs worked out.“I haven’t gotten a massage since, like,” your friend sighs again, and he sounds weighed down when he continues. “Varsity baseball in high school. Appa was really good at shoulder rubs.”

“Oh.” A memory about his dad might will probably spark a whole lot of memories, and he’s still iffy about crying in front of people. “Want me to stop?”

“Heck no.”

“Are you cool with crying? Massages sometimes do that,” you hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

“I meant the act itself can make folk cry sometimes.” Especially if memories get brought up.

“Make ‘folk’ cry?” he teases. "You already used the word 'naught,' too, bumpkin."

You pause the massage to give him a very light shove. “Shut up.”

Breakfast is eggs again, you can smell them cooking. The Greenes have been very generous with eggs. And, of course, now extra-generous with the peaches and some tomatoes, apparently. Maybe the thrill of yellow squash or string beans is in the future, too.

Ooh, or dairy. Oh my gosh, or red meat! Jimmy mentioned they’ve made a ton of jerky what with all their cattle.

“G’morning,” you hear Shane behind you.

“Heya.”

“Morning, Shane.”

The razzing is clear in his tone of voice, but try telling that to Glenn as your brother says, “Lookin’ cute, you two. Didn’t know this was a thing now, I thought that ship had sailed.”

Yeahhhhh, Glenn wriggles away from your hands quicker than you can whine, “Shaney!” who simply cracks up, “Just teasing.”

“I’ll tease your face,” you wish you weren’t snickering back. “And you know my heart belongs to darling Theodore,” you add in an exaggerated accent.

T-Dog, unfortunately, hears, and utters a soft “Da hell?” aaand you cackle even harder. Surely he knows the not-so-secret secret that you think he’s a catch? Too old for you, but, like. What a gem.

“Glenn, my apologies.” Shane winks. “It’s too easy to rile this one up. And Dog, don’t worry.”

“It’s cool,” Glenn answers so awkwardly.

You scrunch your lips at your brother in an effort not to smile. He’s acting like himself again, the real Shane. You don’t feel as if you’re looking at a stranger, you don’t feel the urge to stay on-guard or stay onstage. “Proud of yourself?”

He shrugs with a lazy grin. “It is real easy to rile you up.”

“Mmhm, well I’m fixing to escape to Fort Benning right now, lemme just wash up first.” You insert this little seed in hope it takes root. He was planning to go there before things changed.

He was planning to go without your input or foreknowledge, too, but he was doing what he thought was best for the group. For Lori and Rick.

Until he didn’t anymore, according to what he said to Lori.

That night, the same day Daryl had almost died, was something else.

The things he said to Lori echo in your head, the confident flirting while she was visibly unreceptive and shaken.

Then you recall the way he’s been “pragmatic” and almost irritated about the continuing search for Sophia.

Then the way he blew up at you, hurt you.

And finally, how your first reaction to finding out there was a barn filled with walkers a mere one minute trek from where your people are sleeping in tents was to insist that the secret must be kept from Shane at all costs. That the secret had to stay that way because of what would happen if Shane found out.

Maybe it’s from sleeping too close to the campfire or because it was so chilly last night, but the breathing trouble is back. It's fine, this happened last night, it ended up being fine. You cough a few times to try and inhale more deeply and ease the tightness in your chest, but you feel strange and a little nauseous. Maybe you're coming down with something.

“Lemme take over here — aw, Glenn, hey, sit back on down,” Shane insists to your friend who just tried to escape. “Heard you slept on your neck wrong. That shit stinks, man. But,” he holds out his hands and wiggles his fingers. “I got so much practice with massages from this one’s migraines, I might should switch careers. C’mon then,” he says lightheartedly.

The unease you just wrestled with lessens. This is the real Shane, the confident, even cocky, but goodhearted one.

Ooo, your breathing feels a little better, too. Cool!

He looks at you and points with his thumb toward the house. “The uh, the little one, what’s the blonde girl’s name again?”

“Soph—oh! Um, sorry, y-you mean ‘Beth,’” you stammer, all the mirth from a moment ago zapped.

The look in your brother’s eyes changes from easygoing to dampened to cold.

He tries to sound nonchalant behind a thin veil of both defense and offense. “Yeah, the, uh, the teenager. She asked for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” You’d be off like a shot if there wasn’t another potential time bomb to worry about.

Glenn.

To your friend, you assure in truth, “He does give a mighty solid massage.” But when you lean over enough for him to see your face, you can feel your eyes darken when you hold the finger to your lips and set your jaw.

And as you make toward the house with your coffee and another two peaches, you’re grappling with the fact that, in an effort to keep Glenn quiet so everything won’t blow to pieces, you’re behaving not unlike the very person that you’re trying to prevent from igniting the explosion in the first place.

Another worry is the way you so easily slipped in and out of being onstage.

You’ve always been one to insist on truth and honesty. It’s a badge of honor you wear with pride, and even Daryl, prickly grump Daryl, has mentioned it and appreciates that about you.

And yet, look at your conduct over the past week or so. You can certainly lie, and be believable at it. You don’t like that.

Oh, gross, you’re getting nauseous again.

As you near the porch, Beth’s soft, clear voice calls your name, and she exits the house to meet you. “I got somethin’ for you. Can you come upstairs?”

“Sure. Your dress is cute!” comes out automatically. You’re still dazed and stressed. Her sundress really is pretty, though. Briefly, you consider how it would be nice to feel feminine again.

She leads you up the stairs, and it strikes you how odd it is that you have to go upstairs for whatever she’s going to give you, right? Then, you worry that it’s to do with the barn.

And you’re right.

Or, at least, you think you are. Maggie is upstairs when Beth brings you there.

The tightness comes back, so you focus on your breathing and will your stomach to chill out. You're onstage, you need to perform.

“Y/N, hi!” Margaret says this a little overly chipper, even though her appearance suggests that she’s had about as much shut-eye as you, if not less. “Sleep okay?”

“A-About as well as you, I reckon,” you answer with a hint of humor and only a trace of a stress stutter. Buying time with a few more coughs, before you get too defensive, you play it off as if Beth does not know that you and Glenn know. “We stayed up far too late and ate way too many peaches,” you say the girl. Which is the truth, you aren’t lying! You aren't lyi — nope, don't you cry! Stay onstage, stay onstage, stay onstage—

—As it so happens, now is when you recall how you are currently carrying two peaches in your hand, so your cheeks heat. The urge to cry goes away, so small win. “I ate way too many, at least.”

Beth giggles. “I love peaches, too. I had peach cobbler as my birthday cake two years ago. The ones we grow are so good!”

“Thank you for the basket of food, by the way, it was very kind.” Very kind bribery, please keep it up, we haven’t had this much available food in months, in fact, we’ll probably do anything you ask us if you let us stay here!

“There’s plenty more where the peaches came from. The season’s almost over, but we still have bushels left to pick, the hens haven’t slowed production yet, and we’re almost out of canning supplies we’ve done so many,” Maggie responds.

Beth is opening a big trash bag on her bed that looks like it’s filled with blankets, so Maggie takes the opportunity to lock eyes with you again. She mouths, “Thank you.”

For not saying anything? “She doesn’t know we know?” you mouth back.

She shakes her head.

You relax muscles you didn’t know you were tensing.

“Yay, I got it open without rippin' it!” Beth exclaims. “Y/N, Maggie and I had gathered up a bunch of clothes for charity, but that’s when things got, w-well,” she halts, unsure of how to describe the outbreaks. “The bad things happened, but, um, we, well, we still had all the donations bagged. Daddy and Shawn also…” She quiets at mentioning her deceased older brother and turns weepy.

Her big sister finishes for her. “Shawn donated clothes, too. And Mom.” She swallows. “There’s plenty to share with your group, is what she means.” Maggie nods her head at the bag on the bed, then to two others on the floor.

They're sharing...all of those?

You don’t get a chance to ask it because Beth is already answering. “When I saw how y’all looked, it was scary. The,” she starts, then stops. “Not that you were scary, I meant y’all must’ve been out there a long time. It’s scary to think about.”

“In your defense, I did look scary the first time you saw me.” Wild hair, sweat-drenched, sobbing, and covered in Carl’s and your own blood. Rough day.

But having been ‘out there,’ as Beth worded it, it’s not so scary when you’re with a group you trust. It even feels comforting to have them all. Which is when you consider how Shane and you will be back out there in a couple weeks, alone.

“Here.” Beth shyly points to the bag. “I wanted to offer for you to look through the bags first. If, if you want.”

The offer is (more) bribery to keep you quiet, which cools the warmth of the charity, but doesn't lessen the grateful tears you spill. Plus, yes, you all could use some fresh clothes, there’s only so much mending that can be done. And to be offered first dibs, even if it’s just to butter you up, is still being offered first dibs. “I’d love to take a look, thank you,” you say in earnest.

Beth combs through the bag and chats in her shy manner, handing you a barely-worn, calf-length dress that had been gift for Maggie, then a (pure wool?!) cardigan their mother had been giving away.

You find it hard to believe that she’s doing this as bribery, Beth doesn’t seem the sort to easily conceal things. She’s got an innocence that hits as genuine.

But, then again, you who hate dishonesty are apparently great at it. Who’s to say she’s not, too?

The breathlessness briefly comes back. You clear your throat and cough once.

Beth next, to your apprehension and then delight, has you try on the dress and cardigan (which shockingly fit). While retying the modified sling around your upper arm, Maggie keeps trying to catch your eye again in order to, you don’t know, communicate something via meaningful glance? But you don’t have the bandwidth for it, so return her look with a polite smile and shrug.

Her little sister then proceeds to gussy you up in a way reminiscent of how Amy did once at the quarry camp to see how Glenn would react. Gosh, was that only two-ish months ago, wasn’t it? Or has it been longer? It feels like so much more time has passed.

Beth has manages a quick, respectable braided style for your hair, touches up your eyebrows for you, and even adds blush. She then claims that your hiking boots “look okay” with the ensemble and has you use the full length mirror in her closet to inspect the full results.

The dress is lovely, you have to admit. The neckline doesn’t dip too low bonus that it doesn’t show your bruise, the waist is defined, and it’s long enough past your knees to be comfortable. The length also helps lessen the lingering apprehension you have about showing natural (*cough cough unshaven*) legs.

You actually feel…pretty. Been a while.

It’s as if she knew you were yearning to feel girly again. If this is bribery, you welcome it. Worse ways of being bribed than with fresh food and a makeover from a genuinely sweet kid. And hey, since you have to be onstage so much, might as well dress nicely for the audience.

When you’re walking downstairs to bring your people the donations, Maggie murmurs in your ear, “Y/N, I didn’t put her up to any of this, it was all her.”

When you pull away from her, she whispers insistently, “It wasn’t her bein’ nice to keep you quiet. Remember, she doesn’t kn—”

“—Good mornin’, girls. What’s in the bags?” Patricia’s voice calls from the bottom of the stairwell.

“We had some clothes to donate since before Easter,” Beth answers. “I figured they could use ’em.”

“They certainly could. I’m glad I have plenty I brought from my house when we moved in.” You can see Miss Patricia in the hallway by the stairs, clearly wearing one of her late husband’s shirts over her dress. Her brows lift. “Seems you dolled your friend up some. You clean up nice, sweetpea!”

“Thank you, ma’am. I-I do feel like a lady again,” you allow, your cheeks again warming.

“Never stopped being one, as far as I’m concerned. Always kept your Ps and Qs,” she’s kind enough to maintain. “Oh, speaking of ladies, I don’t know how y’all are doing on girls’ supplies, but we should have enough to share while you’re still with us.”

“Margaret and I were gonna look for some more on the next drug store run tomorrow or Monday to make sure you’ll well stocked.” Along with everything else on the list(s) that was forgotten when those two…got distracted.

Ugh, how different things would be if you’d gone along for that trip! None of this barn bullshit!

Again, you feel the need to cough to help you breathe better, so you cough twice and try clearing your throat.

“Uh-oh, sounds like cold and flu season is well on it’s way,” she muses. “Don’t let me keep you holding them bags all day, girls. It’ll be funny watchin’ your daddy react if one of them ends up dressed in his giveaways,” the woman comments wryly. “Now, I did intend to check on those stitches today, Y/N, so come see me later. Hersh is just finishing up with Daryl’s, in fact, then he’ll be all set to go, if you were wantin’ to see him out.”

Oh, right! Today is finally the day he’s leaving that room!

Carl, too, but he’s already out and has been wandering around outside as much as his energy and mom will allow (which isn’t very much yet).

Daryl, on the other hand, has been too dizzy and too ashamed to do much more than a trip around the perimeter of the house.

Carol and you cleaned his tent yesterday as a surprise. It was her idea, of course. She enlisted your help specifically because you twice mentioned not thinking his sweat smelled bad, which is weird, but, for real, it doesn’t smell bad to you. The cigarettes, on the other hand, ew.

“Are we not going today?” Maggie asks quietly about the postponed pharmacy trip.

With tact, you suggest, “We could all use some rest after stayin’ up so late.”

She peers into your eyes, then nods and adjusts her hold on the two bags in her hands.“That’s a good idea. I’m not up to it, either.”

Upon stepping back outside onto the front porch, Jimmy and Glenn are kicking the soccer ball around already. Glenn is keeping his neck taut as he and Jimmy go back and forth, but the pain must have lessened.

The irresistible urge you have to make light of everything seizes you, and you leap into matchmaker mode because, why not? You won’t be here much longer, and maybe Maggie and Glenn linking up will lead to the rest being permitted to stay. That’s what matters.

Oh, and, uh, because you love Glenn, and Maggie is kind…oh fuck, are you just a calculating, cold strategist?

The feeling that you’re running out of air and going to vomit returns, but you push yourself onstage and commit to the role. You have to keep your shit together.

“Ain’t he handsome when he plays? Good sportsmanship and confidence rolled into one.” You playfully hold a smile back when you glance at Maggie and giggle to hide your heavy breathing. “Also the shiny hair.”

“He does have great hair,” she softly agrees.

“Y/N, do you and Glenn like each other? I-I thought…” Beth’s face has paled.

Maybe that’s why you over-act when you exclaim, “Of course I like him, that’s why I’m such a great wingwoman for him.”

Margaret blushes. “Let’s get these bags to their camp.”

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

“I can’t hunt?”

“You can do as you please,” the old man remarks. What, is he making fun of him? “But doing so while recovering from a concussion would be foolish, as would be heavy lifting or other strenuous activity, and that’s not considering your collarbone and ribs. I’m curious as to how you’d wield your weapon or bring back what you hunted, for one, if you would even make it off the property without keeling over.”

Daryl bites his tongue and keeps his words to himself. Well, fine! I can still bring that little girl back. She’s got legs, she’ll be able to walk on her own.

Hershel cleans up his stuff and stands. “Now, then, I’m sure you’re ready to finally see yourself out.”

“Damn straight,” is probably not the smartest response in front of the old man, what with the cuss word, but damn straight he is ready to get the hell out of there. Still, he remembers his manners. “Thanks for everythin’.” He even holds out his hand for a shake. Which is dumb because the guy’s hands are full.

Daryl…puts his hand back down and grabs the few things he had in there with him. Y/N once described the Dr. Farmer as ‘unreadable.’ Definitely is that.

Unreadable, Hershel drawls, “It’s good you’re on the mend,” and inclines his head toward the door. “After you.”

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

Dude, you had a panic attack.

It wasn’t too too bad, all things considered. Initially, you’d thought it was a mild asthma attack, but in hindsight, wow you were oblivious to all of the signs.

It started to happen when some of the group was going through the clothes, right after Maggie and you dropped them off and she left to do choring.

Lori was beside you, low-key beside herself trying to figure out how your people could “ever repay the family now?”

Next, T-Dog joked about the sizes being too small for him. “Ain’t sure what here I could fit that won’t result in a show for y’all.”

This is when Andrea murmured to Carol, “Reminds me how it’s been awhile.” The way Carol reacted clued you in that it might have been a sex joke. Especially given the way Andy next gave your brother a once-over as if you weren’t right there. You vividly recall licking your teeth and rolling your eyes.

Then Shane — and he did this without having seen Andrea do the once-over — nudged T-Dog in the ribs and began to unbutton his own top. “Worse things than a show these days, friend. And that there clean shirt is calling my name.” Naturally, he proceeded to swap garments right where he stood.

Per usual, Lori was more graceful than you. She ignored it as if he were her own brother acting like a frat boy, and merely continued to sift through one of the bags. She smiled upon finding something, tapped Carol on the shoulder, and handed it to her.

It’s been a week now since Shane betrayal to her and Rick. Even you’re still figuring out how to see him. The hopeful part is that he’s been leaving Lori alone. If his sights have indeed turned to Andrea, all the better.

Back to the moment, then you imagined what if he and Andrea got a little too close, did something foolish, and she ended up pregnant, too. Not that Lori’s baby is Shane’s, the baby is Rick’s regardless, but...

The tight feeling returned in your chest.

It was in the midst of this that Dale complimented you. “Kiddo, you’re all gussied up! Any occasion?”

“Mmhm, all dressed up for the ‘show.’” The nausea was back, plus a fun new notion of being observed by unseen persons.

Dale just nodded with raised brows, and you and he shared a look. Instead of tempering your fears, it piqued them. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Horvath’s expression started to mirror the way he stared into your eyes after catching Shane lose his temper and leave you with a bruise on your sternum.

The fears within you, the stress, the dread, all started roiling stronger and stronger. You cleared your throat, then coughed, but it didn’t help and you felt restless and, oddly, cornered.

And so, not knowing where to look therefore looking in all directions, you happened to spy Glenn staring at the barn. Again.

The air felt too…thin? And then you noticed Lori examining the torso of one of the shirts in the bag as if testing it for stretchiness or room. You could see the shadows clouding her face right before she abruptly put the shirt down. Then, there was Carol, holding up something that had clearly must have been Beth’s a few years ago, and it looked as if it would fit Sophia perfectly now.

It was just about then that your lungs simply couldn’t keep up.

“Kiddo?” sounded in your ear.

You may have panted something to do with “puffer,” referring to your largely unused inhaler. At any rate, instead of next going to the logical location of the RV to find the med bag, you made for the treeline. You didn’t want anyone near you, didn’t want anybody to see you, didn’t want a fuss, didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want anyone to even think about you, so you had to hide.

Panting, a numbness started to affect your fingers and spread to your torso and toes. You repeatedly coughed in an effort to break up whatever was making it hard to breathe. Once you started coughing, it dominoed. Your stitches were tugging at the forceful coughs, and soon, you were hacking. The hacking led to retching, one, two, three times. Tears started to fall.

“Baby, here,” came from your right and a warm, delicate hand touched the small of your back. Lori. She pressed the inhaler into your hand. “I shook it up, it’s all ready.”

Bending forward slightly to open your airways, you tried to exhale enough so you could take the dose properly as you clasped the trigger.

One puff. Hold breath in.

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

Another puff. Hold breath in.

The relief that usually comes with the medication wasn’t as apparent as it normally would be. It helped somewhat, but. You tried another dose.

More tears of frustration. You panted that you thought your were going to pass out. "F-Feels like m'gonna die," you may have also said. The phantom sensation of your hand being covered in Amy's blood returned. You recall wiping it with the hem of your dress, and Lori taking your hands, preventing you from continuing to do so.

Lori calmly instructed you to, “Try this with me, honey,” and slowly breathed in through her nose. You copied as best you could.

She then slowly breathed out through her mouth. You copied as best you could.

Over and over she coached you.

Things started to ease. Your pulse was still loudly thumping, but two doses of a corticosteroid will do that. In your escape, you’d made for the big rocks where you’d shared (sort of) a cigarette with Daryl. The stones felt nice and cool, and Lori’s gentle rubbing of her hand across your back was comforting.

“Been a while since you’ve needed the inhaler. ‘Decorative,’ you called it once,” she softly chatted. The sensation of not getting enough air wasn’t quite gone just then, but you felt pretty normal again.

“I reckon the cold and the smoke must’ve done me in,” you mumbled. Your throat was mildly sore after all the coughing. “It’s good it was mild.”

“Were you wheezing?”

“No, I…just couldn’t breathe enough or something.” You shrugged. “I don’t always wheeze when I need it.” Your nose was stuffy from crying.

She was thoughtful for a moment, and had begun to lightly scratch your back. “You and Glenn seem off this morning. I’ve seen you two tired before, but today you both seem…there’s something else going on, clearly. Did you two fight?”

“Not exactly.” It’s true. “We’re on the same page.” You weren't prepared to have to go onstage again, but just in case, you tried pulling yourself together.

“Was it about Maggie?”

You laughed genuinely. “Ha, not at all.”

Lori didn’t mirror your laughter or even smile in return. “Honey, I think you had a panic attack.”

At first, you protested. “Oh, it wasn’t that dramatic.”

“It looked different from where I was. But even still, it didn’t have to be or feel ‘dramatic’ to have been one, you know that.” The nonjudgemental straightforwardness in her voice, in her eyes, was enough to convince you that she could see straight into your heart and read what was there. “Y/N, is there something more going on?”

More than anything, at that moment, you didn’t want to lie to her.

But what could you do? Tell the truth, yes, 'the truth will out,' you know that. But you were convinced that telling the whole truth, right then, would be like lighting dynamite.

In your view, you would be exposing everyone to chaos and even violence, and you'd all seen too much of that already. And no, you couldn’t just tell one person because it never just stays with one person. Lori was/is not in any position to have more fear on her plate.

So what did you do?

You crawled back on that stage and you lied — by telling the truth.

“I’m worried he’ll talk.” Vague and a lie of omission, and maybe a little throwing your friend under the bus, but Lord have mercy on you, it was truthful.

Lori squeezed her eyes shut. “Me, too. Oh honey, I’m so scared!” she whispered, covering her mouth.

So scared of Shane, just like you are. “Rick won’t hold any of it against you. We all thought he was dead.”

She shook her head and stared at the ground.“But you saw how Shane behaved, you, you heard the things he said, Y/N,” she nearly hissed. “I don’t know who that man was, but it wasn’t Shane, just like when he had m—” then Lori cut off.

“When he had what?”

She shook her head again. “Seems Dale’s on his way over. He told me about what was going on so I could bring your medicine to you. He hadn't known what 'puffer' meant." And —oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry that you’re worrying yourself like this over my mistake! It's not fair to you.”

“Your kid ain’t a mistake, it’s so good that they’re here,” you replied in total honesty. First time all day.

Maybe she’ll be honest with you and spill whatever Shane did that she’s not being upfront about. Whatever it is could surely have been described in a sentence. “What else did Shane do, Lore?” It can’t have been that bad, or could it?

All she did was shake her head once more. “Like you said, he hasn’t been himself.

‘Hasn’t been himself.’ Fine. You’ve got secrets, too, so there’s no way on earth can you cast stones.

You stepped back onstage for hopefully the final time, and made yourself deliver the next lines. “That’s why we’re goin’ to Fort Benning.” Without you all. “Just him and me. Within two weeks, I hope?” The nausea still hadn’t gone away, and simply saying this brought it back.

Her brows sunk caution. “When was this decision made? I-I thought—”

“—I ain’t told him about it yet.” The bitter smile, you hadn’t been able to stifle. “Shouldn’t be hard to convince him, considering he was fixing to not so long ago.”

Lori’s apologetic tone wasn’t a put-on. “I’m so sorry he didn’t tell you. I had no idea you were left in the dark.”

That’s when some tightness came back to your chest, and your breathing turned faster again. “I know, Lore.”

She noticed. “Honey, hey,” she soothed, “breathe slowly, deeply." Her hand cupped your cheek. "His mistakes, his choices, his reactions are not your responsibility.”

“I know, b-but—”

“—And you don’t have to leave with him if you don't want to.”

“But wh—”

“—No buts.” Lori cupped your cheek, stood, and swiftly made toward Dale.

And here is where you hadn’t known she was going to be quite so straightforward with him.

In fact, you’d hoped she’d join you onstage and lie, too, but she behaved beyond reproach. “It was a panic attack, so please make sure to respect her privacy about it. I’ve got to check on the laundry.”

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

Funny thing, he’s wearing the same clothes he had his accident in. He’s in the same stuff leaving that he had been when he got carried in there, except now they’re cleaned and mended.

It’s been good to be back outside, he prefers it. He can’t wrap his head around why some people can keep inside in front of a TV all day. You don’t get to hear or feel the wind indoors, can’t hear the birds and all that.

Now, he couldn’t say for sure, but stepping outside and knowing he didn’t have to go back in must feel at least half as good as getting freed from prison.

If prison was a nice-ass farmhouse without the risk of getting shanked or worse, obviously.

Merle would have some words if he heard Daryl say something like that out loud. Though, Merle was pretty settled when he was in lock-up. Fared fine.

His first view when he steps out into freedom is of Glenn and the teenage boy, kicking the ball around. Those two are straight into it and pay him no mind as he walks around them.

The rest of the group is around the picnic table, looks like they’re sorting laundry (?), therefore ain’t paying him no mind, either.

Phew.

This is good. He was wondering if Y/N was gonna parade him out or make it a big deal, but after hearing her and the other ladies talking in the hallway, she didn’t come back in. Works for him, he doesn’t like a crowd.

…But, like, where is she? He figured she’d be around, is all, but she ain’t by the table.

Ah, yeah, duh — she's probably still doing something with the girl that's about her age and her little sister. Still seems off Y/N and Glenn are only “five or six years younger” than him, but that’s what Y/N has said a few times.

The next thing he sees is Lori, who is swooping down the yard and toward the big rocks where he and T-Dog took a smoke break once. And where Y/N had her first try of a cigarette, too. Lori looks like a woman on a mission, damn. Dale is staring in the direction Lori is walking, those big-ass brows of his slanted downward. Wonder what that's about?

Over the sound of a few leftover end-of-season cicadas, he hears the normal drone of crickets, light talking from the group, the thunk of the ball getting kicked, a very loud crow, some cows mooing, somebody coughing, birds doing their thing, chickens clucking, the wind blowing. Mmm, good stuff. Being inside and hearing it just don’t sound as good as being right out in it.

Then, “Daryl!” comes from his left, and he sees Carol walking to him. She’s a good woman.

And now the memory of her kissing him on the cheek is making his cheeks heat up as quick as her steps toward him.

“I’ll carry those for you,” she quietly insists about his small pile of clothes. He lets her.

She’s been very, um, very attentive. Been having most of her meals with him, babying him as much as he’d allow, and all-in-all has been treating him extra after he had his accident.

There are more coughing sounds that he almost pegs as being Y/N’s, but when he looks back in the direction of the noise, there’s no one, just Lori off on her walk, and it wasn’t her doing the coughing.

“We moved your tent closer to the rest of us, so you would be closer to where we could help you.”

Closer. Great. Daryl wanted nothing less, but a kind gesture is a kind gesture, so he mans up and acts proper, grunting, “Thank you.” It’s not like they went and messed with his stuff, they just moved the tent, and for a real kind reason.

Glenn rears and kicks, sending the ball soaring. Damn, he's good.

“Now, it may smell and look a little different, but all of your things are still there.”

“Huh?” What’d she mean?

“You deserved a nice, clean place to go back to,” Carol explains. “Y?N and I cleaned up your tent.”

…

...

…they what?

He gets the weirdest image of himself as being onstage and forgetting whatever it was he was supposed to say next, leaving him standing there like a mouthbreather in front of the audience. And he kinda wants to cuss the audience out.

His first idea after learning Carol and Y/N was: What the hell, y’all been messing with my stuff? What gives y'all the right?

But, come on, even he had it in him to keep his mouth shut. They’d taken the time and effort to clean up his shit and it was probably as nice as when Carol had worked her magic in the RV. That's damned decent, in fact.

So, Daryl does not act like a jackass, and instead, remembers his lines and thanks Carol again.

“It was no trouble. How about I bring you some more breakfast once you’re settled in?” she quickly offers. See? Very attentive. And he didn’t do shit to have earned it, which made it more uncomfortable.

Aw shit, his cheeks feel all warm again. First around Y/N, now Carol? Maybe there is something to this whole concussion bullshit.

Or, maybe Carol done kissed you on the cheek and said you were a good man and that you did right by her little girl as much as a father should and that’s the best possible thing somebody could be told.

“Do you want some more coffee, too?”

I wanna to be left alone, lady. “Nah, m’great. Thank you.”

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

“Last night seemed to be an indication summer was officially over. But today,” Dale blows through his lips, “Well, we can already tell it’ll be a warm one.”

“Did we hit the first day of fall, yet? I forgot what date it is today.”

“No, that’s on the 21st. We’ve got some time.”

“Oh, wait!” you squeak (ouch, your throat is still sore from coughing). “Ain’t it the Holy Days for you still?” Rosh Hoshanah was sometime last week, but that one got sort of messed up because of everything that’s been going on.

Oh man, it was the day after Daryl got into his accident, wasn’t it?

Dale’s cordial expression falters. “Yes, it was last week.”

“Yom Kippur is soon then, right?”

“It’s on the 18th this year, yes. Two days away.”

There’s this very insistent raven that’s been cawing away. Or is that a crow? You can’t tell the difference. You can tell that you’ve bummed Dale out, however. “I’ve bummed you out.”

Smiling sadly, he concedes, “Jewish holidays are usually lonely ones in mixed company. And now, especially with it being the holiest time of the year, after everything…” He lifts his shoulders.

“I’ll do the fasting with you so you won’t be alone!” Ow, stop raising your voice so high. “Is it no food or drink at all on that day, or is water okay?”

A happier smile. “No food or drink — barring serious health concerns, of course, in which case, one is required to not fast.”

“No water must suck! When my lot do fasting, water don’t count.”

He nods his head once. “It’s all part of the atonement. It’s considered a blessing for us to fast for it.”

“And the feast after it is fun,” you sigh with a grin. You’ll enlist Carol and Lori to see about making him a yummy fast-breaking meal for the day.

This is what you needed. Dale didn’t press you regarding the panic attack, and has simply been keeping you company by the big rocks. You’ve haven’t had to go back onstage while he’s been sitting with you. You’d probably be content to stay here a good, long time if you didn’t have to use the toilet something major.

“Did you see if there was a pair of suspenders in the bags so you and Mr. Greene can match?”

“Is this your way of saying you’re feeling well enough to head back, or that you need privacy?”

“It’s my way of sayin’ I gotta go potty real bad.” You stand. “Suspenders are pretty cool, you can party like it’s 1899.”

“I actually quite like how suspenders look,” he chuckles, stretching and getting to his feet.

“Mm, they remind me of the Old West, I love ’em.”

Dale and you walk back until reaching the side of the farmhouse, whereupon you excuse yourself to head to the treeline and do your business.

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

As soon as the heat starts to sink in, he unbuttons his shirt halfway and kicks his shoes off. Getting the socks off without hurting himself takes some effort, but it’s worth it. His stuff is so squeaky clean and fresh, he wants to avoid sweating the place up too quick.

His old pillowcase is gone, probably scrapped for dishrags seeing as it was pretty worn. In its place is a flower-covered one with soft, thick cotton fabric. There's some phrase about a 'woman's touch' that must apply here. Or, if Merle were here, prime Darylina ammo. Joke's on him, the pillowcase is soft as hell.

And being in there might seem boring, but it's 10 times better than being stuck in a damn bed and listening to music for days on end. Just cloud-watching through his tent window is fun enough for him.

In fact, it’s rad! He’s so psyched to not be in that room anymore!

Cloud watching, playing with his bolts, farting if he's gotta; he's content as can be. Seriously, he’s in such a good mood right now.

But as luck would have it, by the time he’s decided to see how easily a bolt can poke a hole through the mesh window (the answer is very easily, and it’s real satisfying) none other than Andrea herself appears at his tent door. The chick who shot him.

Now, she’s pretty as a picture and then some, but he doesn’t want his belly showing in front of her. If he’d been paying attention and heard her making her way to him, he would’ve buttoned up.

So, he tries out the same tactic as last night, when Carol walked in on him shirtless; maybe by not closing his shirt, she wouldn’t think about it? Or…fuck it, just about everybody has seen some part of him uncovered in the past week. At least there ain’t no scars on this side.

All he’s got to do is make like he’s onstage and that it doesn’t bother him having his literal nipples on display.

“Hey.” Andrea steps into his tent, looking like she is about to eat crow.

She hands him a book. He accepts the maybe peace-offering.

“It’s not that great, but…” she trails off, breathes out, and looks guilty as hell.

Y/N, Carol, and T-Dog all mentioned she’s been kicking her own ass for shooting him. Granted, he’s still a little pissed, and, yeah, real thankful that she’s a shit shot, but — she was trying to protect the group, right? Ain’t even her fault he got stuck in that damn bed. The concussion, split side, and broken ribs did that for him.

He figures he’s gotta make it clear that she’s off the hook without making her feel worse for being let off the hook. And, he thinks he knows just the way to break the tension. It’d got the librarian at his high school to laugh the first time he made the remark, which is probably why he was usually allowed to eat in there during lunch.

Now, he knows reading is still on the no-go list, don’t worry, Y/N, but he casually holds the book up and flips through the pages.

He’s gotta, it’s the setup.

It’s good that Andrea ain’t said nothing yet, because it’s the perfect opportunity for him to pretend to be dead-serious when he complains, “What, no pictures?”

The joke does the trick. Andrea smiles and relaxes. “I’m so sorry. I feel like shit,” she starts to go on, but he puts a stop to it.

Tucking the book aside as he settles down onto the pillow, he cuts in, “You and me both.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but, if there’s anything I can do, I—”

He cuts in one more time, “—You were trying to protect the group. We’re good.” He means it.

But, ya know, just because things are chill doesn’t mean he can’t bust her balls a little, right? “But hey,” he stops her as she’s leaving. “Shoot me again, you best pray I’m dead.”

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

“It went great! Better than I ever expected.” Andrea takes a seat beside you on the log. Judging by the look of serenity on her face, it appears that the monkey she’s had on her back for the past week is finally gone.

“Good, m’glad.” You knew it would be fine, but Andrea was so nervous.

“And I have to say, I can see the appeal now.”

“What appeal?”

“Daryl was,” she thinks on the right word and picks: “Charming.”

Ah. You see what she’s trying to do. “Well, go tell him that, then,” you suggest, cool as a cucumber. She and Dale thought you and he had a romantic thing going on. Lol, nah.

“And he was funny!” she goes on.

You sip your tea. “Mm, he can be.”

“Not angry, or, or nasty.” She closes her eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief. “I was so worried about how it was going be.”

You tilt your head in partial agreement. He can be a dick.

Your job for the rest of the day, so Papa Dale done told you, is to be chill (yes, he used the word ‘chill’ and it was adorable). It’s your only responsibility today, seeing as he joined you when you went to check the highway spot for Sophia. She hasn’t found it, it’s untouched. Again.

So now, your job = keep chill.

“Are you helping with target practice later?”

Oh, right, and there’s that. You suppose you could continue helping Beth with drawing her weapon smoothly, keep drilling her never, ever forget to switch the safety back and forth.

But…maybe today, that isn’t your job. Maybe you need a rest from being onstage. “I think I’m gonna sit today out.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I just need a day,” you answer in too high a pitch.

Andy doesn’t inquire further. “How’s the little fuzzball?” she instead asks.

“Still sleeping,” you coo. The sluggish little chick you’d scooped up while quickly sprinkling feed-corn in order to feel useful is your insurance for keeping chill. Can’t not keep chill with a chick asleep in your lap.

“It must feel nice and safe wrapped up like that.”

“Mm.” The chick is nestled in a dishtowel, half its body also covered by your new cardigan.

“Y/N, have you not gone to visit him yet?”

“Not yet. He’d appreciate some time to himself, I reckon, after a week bein’ stuck in there and visitors and checkups at all hours.”

Glenn’s off doing farm chores with Jimmy, so he’s being kept busy and won’t be a concern. As for you, you’ve got your sleepy chick and are content to stay here on the log. You ate lunch, yet another peach (you’re up to six), just finished the leftover raspberries, and are now washing it all down with some fresh mint tea you made in honor of one of your best friends. She’d make her own mint tea and would call it ‘wild mint’ tea because it sounded exotic.

When Dale mentioned today’s date, you realized it was her birthday. She was the most confident girl you’d ever met, and a sweetheart to boot. You really hope she’s alive.

Andrea chuckles to herself. “I gave him that terrible book to keep him occupied.”

Book?? “A book?”

“I brought him The Case of the Missing Man,” she shares with a grin. “He can join the survivor’s club of those who’ve read it — Y/N, is something wrong?”

“Oh, um, nah, it’s all good, uh,” you are fumbling so hard right now. Cool, you’re feeling lightheaded again, cool cool.

It’s all cool. There’s no fire. Stay chill. “I’m gonna pop over and make sure he ain’t cracked into it yet, he’s, it’s, it’s not safe yet. C-Concussion and all.” Listen to you, smooth like butter.

“Oh shit.”

“Andy, don’t sweat. Even if he did start on it, like,” and you pause, because, “I don’t actually know what can go wrong, I didn’t ask Miss Patricia, but I’m sure it ain’t nothing serious!” You cup the (awoken and now loudly peeping) chick between your hands as you book it (pun intended?) to Daryl’s tent.

------------------------------

Him

------------------------------

For Y/N to glide over wearing a pretty dress, hair all fancy, and holding some little bird was not something he put on his bingo sheet.

“Hiya, Daryl.”

It takes him a second. “Hey.” Never seen her in a dress, is all. And with that little bird, he gets the image in his head of her bursting into song and the farm animals and forest critters doing a musical number with her.

He’ll *ahem* keep that to himself...

“I hope you’re enjoyin’ your new freedom! Mi—”

“—Who’s the little guy?” he had to ask first.

“It's a chick.”

Clearly. “Why?”

“It’s cute.”

She ain’t wrong. “…Can I see?”

“Yeah, it's adorable!”

He begins to get up, but she steps over faster than he can stand. She kneels beside his cot and, delicately, transfers the wrapped chick into his hands. He carefully unwraps the washcloth around it and slips his hand underneath it so sits on his palm with its teeny legs dangling through his fingers. It’s peeping like it’s getting paid for it, holy shit it’s so fucking cute.

“I came here wonderin’ if I might I borrow the, uh, the book Andrea just lent you?”

Ha, called it! The second Y/N found out he had contraband, she came to the rescue.

The chick quiets down, appearing to relax in his hand.

Maybe it’s because he’s in a good mood, but he smiles like a dipshit for a few moments before saying anything. “Nah, I wouldn’t dream of checking it out ’til you said it was fine.”

“Oh ha-ha,” she play-mocks, assuming he wasn’t being serious.

Eh, okay, maybe he was sorta razzing her, too. But he wants to come out on the other side of this whole concussion bullshit on the up, and if reading is still off-limits, it’s still off limits. He’s not gonna full-on disregard somebody who gives a shit.

“How’d ya end up dressed like that?” is his second question while he pets the chick lightly along its head with the feathers on his bolt.

“I wear this, like, all the time.”

“Oh right, yeah, you do,” he sarcastically responds. He tries to reach with his left arm to pick up the book under his cot, but gets a sharp twinge and surrenders that he can’t do that move yet.

Y/N snorts at the sarcasm and tells him straight, “The Greenes had some giveaways, so Beth gave me this outfit. Oh, thank you,” she says when he instead points in the direction of the book. She picks it up and hugs it to herself. “I do believe Carol put a few things aside for you to try on, too.”

“’Kay.”

Y/N looks pretty.

It’s nothing new, obviously her face is nice, but it's the whole blushing things that's annoying. Seems he's started blushing like a belle over all the damn women in camp these days. That really was some smack to the head he got.

He’s imagining himself as being back onstage again, forgetting his lines. He can ad-lib. “How you gonna search in that?”

“Ain’t like my ankles are tied together. Women have always been able to move, play, do manual labor of all sorts in dresses, corsets, stays, stockin’s, you name it,” she serves back with just enough fire that his belly did one of those good flippy-floppys. “That reminds me, Nervous Nelly came back! Did any of us tell you? She’s fine as can be, I fed her half a peach yesterday!”

Some of them baby hairs around her face are coming out of the braids. Her skin's got a sheen to it. And did she put pink stuff on her cheeks or something? Or is that because she was moving around a lot and it’s gotten warm out? Because her lips don’t look like there’s nothing on them but they’re nice and —

“—Dare, you okay?”

“Yeah. Tired.”

“You must be.” Why is she frowning? “You looked like you’d just got hypnotized or — you sure you feel normal?”

“M’fine, I just spaced out.”

She’s gonna have him do a thing, isn’t she? “Follow my finger for a little, please?” Ah-ha, see?

Pointer finger extended, he goes along with it for the 10 or so seconds it takes for the slight crease between her eyebrows to relax.

“Please stick out your tongue for me?” is her next request and, uh, why?

Well, he goes ahead and does it for her anyway. The hook ’em horns he makes at the same time are a sure sign he’s in a good-ass mood.

Y/N lets herself smile, then elaborates: “If it came out tilted, it’s a sign of stroke.”

Stroke? That’s a little much.“C’mon, you’re worried I had a stroke?”

She nods once. Her chest expands big as if she were inhaling really deep. “A smoker, extended bed rest, head trauma,” she quietly counts.

Is he hearing things, or does her breathing sound a little too fast?

“Can you point your toes three times?”

He point his toes three times, and yes, her breathing is a little too fast.

“Now please lift both arms parallel to the bed.”

He lifts both arms. The baby chicken is sleeping now and doesn’t wake with the motion.

“Okay,” Y/N whispers to herself.

“Tell me you’re not stressing out about nothin’.”

She blinks a few times and deadpans, “I would never.”

“Here,” he holds the chick near her face. “Get zen like this pipsqueak.”

“But you ain’t ‘nothing’ and you are at an elevated stroke risk.”

He’s only got the one word for her: “Zen.” The hovering motion he made with the chick was a fun touch, the little thing didn’t even mind.

Her expression suggests she’s trying to not smile, and, in a move he doesn’t anticipate, she leans forward to rub her nose on its beak. Her lips brush against his fingertips when she does and his train of thought derails.

Next thing, her hands are overlapping his as she gently takes the chick back and re-wraps it in the washcloth. “’Lil buddy you’re fine, you’re fine,” she coos. “I’ll grab you the hand sanitizer and leave you to some peace, alright man?” she addresses to Daryl, who's still a little distracted, so a grunt and a chin tilt is how he acknowledges this.

Merle would be laughing his ass off right now, goddamn. ‘Sweet lil virgin Darylina’ sounds about what he’d be cackling about.

Y/N flips open the cap with her thumb and squirts the hand stuff onto his palm. Smells like lemons.

So, he didn’t have that stuff before, meaning she’d likely been the one to put it in there when she’d cleaned his tent with Carol. “Hey, um, thanks for the surprise.” Damn, he’s awkward. Smells way better in here.”

“Carol is so wanting to help you in any way she can. I was in it just to see you end up with that pretty floral pillowcase. I had to stop her from hangin' the matching curtains,” she snickers, then waves him goodbye and, boom, leaves.

So…how long until his heartbeat and head stop racing?

------------------------------

You

------------------------------

Yet another stage performance today. You had to act like you weren’t distracted by how boyishly charming Daryl looked lounging there with his shirt unbuttoned to his hecking waist, good Moses. Then the way he snuggled the chick, how your legit lips bumped into his fingers?? He noticed your panicking and was all soothing and shit? Dude, and you were trying to sit like a dainty lady the whole time, too, what a poser.

Still, you think you were convincing. Oscar-worthy. Golden Globe. Emmy. Tony. Somebody hook you up with your EGOT.

Oh, and that little jab at his new pillowcase, aw yes, that was top tier friendzoning! Or — oh, it wasn’t interpreted as flirting, right? No way did you intend that! And hold up, no way he'd even care. It's Daryl.

You've earned a B- so far at being chill, you've got to get that grade up.

So, you are going to go pick fruit, alone, and you’re going to stuff your face because the show is over, you’re off stage for the rest of the day!

------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------

-> Masterlist link here <-

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 ; @oceanticspace​​​​ ; @whistlesalot ; @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer ;  @dreamingaboutthewonderland ; @kwazii-kat ; @darylsmavis ; @outlanderhornet22 ; @battinsonrobs ; @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable ; @writingmybeloved ; @boomergirl123 ; @iheartathena0 ; @moonliight-luv ; @suniloli ; @supernaturalgirl02 ; @cnake-garden ; @daryldixmedown ; @sophehe ; @crashlyrose ; @virgo-sunflower920 ; @jennythe ; @theficbaker ; @vampireautism ; @rosetta196 ; @wifeof-barnes ; @thegemthatreads ; @redjaylee ; @thegirlwiththepurpleshelves

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes! Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know in the inbox. We’re all friends here and your comfort level matters)  

[mackmp3]

☕how the writers delt with river song

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THEY DID MY GIRL SO DIRTY there are so many. good river song moments. and there are so manythat make me want to tear a strip off steven moffat like every goddamn episode with her they have to make some obnoxious sex joke or some Honey Im Home type shit & i understand this is like. A Moffat Theme & i dont always hate it but goddddd its so reductive like there is so much!!!! that could be done with her character !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is overshadowed by haha what if she was sexy like STOPPPPPPPPPPPP.

like silence in the library was a really good character lead in & i like her!!! as a character !!!! even the overly flirtatiousness unfortunately that would work on me but even aside from that. she is a good character let down but the sheer pull-it-out-of-your-ass writing of her backstory. like?? she could regenerate cos she was conceived in the tardis okay thats really cool much weirder stuff has happened when it comes to tardises & making babies but then WE SeE THIS FOR LIKE. ONE OR TWO EPISODES BEFORE THEYRE LIKE WHOOPS THAT DOESNT WORK ACTUALLY COS SHE'S DEAD UHHH SHE BETTER UHMM IDK SAVE TH E DOCTOR OR SOMETHING WHATEVER> COS HER ENTIRE LIFE HAS TO REVOLVE AROUND HIM. HASHTAG MARRIAGE AMIRITE like even the fact that her entire life was shaped around him isnt a Bad Idea it just feels like no one considered the tragic impies (implications) of this, & simultaneously doing amy so dirty in the process as well like??? she loses baby mels & then discovers she was her (never previously mentioned) childhood friend but then she uhhhh dies & turns into this woman you already know and them????? barely eveer mention it again???? holy shit?????????????????????? amy & river is a freaking horror story but one that the writers seem imcapable of dealing with because sOMEONE is too busy making obnoxious jokes about married life

a lot of thsi is specific to the General Vibes of the eleven era stuff as well which was in general so so weird about women & while its not like twelve or any of teh other doctors are expemt from this eleven is a massive dick to people quite a bit & a lot of this falls on river b/c he is seemingly (iirc i havent seen some of this stuff for a while though it Haunts Me) almost careless? with her? like a sort of 'welllllll she's here now so it was all okay in the end :)' sort of attitude ignoring that she went through A Fuckton Of Stuff before she was even a concious human(mostly??) being

even the husbands of river song is tragically guilty of some of that stuff like. she's seen some wild shit & she should have known it was twelve wayyyyyy way way quicker. like i understand why she didnt for plot reasons but she is in fact very intellegent like. she's allowed to show that. unfortunatley sometimes women cant be smart & have their boobs out at that same time I GUESSSSSSSSS

also the nine & river audios from earlier this year? i really like archipelago i listened to that a couple of times & i thought it was really powerful but AGAIN the writers make river So Fucking Obsessed With Romance like. you'd let it go by that point. nine had literally just proved he's the most aro guy in the universe (good for him) and shes stillllllll flirting at him. which. imo she wouldnt do anymore because, shock horror, she does actually like him as a person & values his company and you would think you would be friends wit hthe guy YOU ARE GONG TO MARRY OR WHATEVER. NOT THAT THEIR MARRIAGE WAS PARTICULARLY ROMANTIC EITHERIM GONNA BE SO REAL. obviously sex is important to her & good for her but yikes. it doesnt need to be mentioned so often.

like its the whole 'inherent tragedy of waiting for a time traveller' stuff which i do eat up every time meeting her in silence of the library & knowong that there is so much more there - VERY COMPELLING !! really good character intro augahagaauuaajaaajahhahahahhhh but nooooo her Entire Fucking Goddman Life has to revolve around being manipulated & The Doctor AS WELL AS !! the completely uncalled for ohhhh im a PSYCHOPATH ( <- unfounded & demonstrably untrue lowkey this is saneism right. thats an ableism there yes? ) thing they alllwaysssss have her say like well!! shes not !! theres 'youre talking about commiting a murder'/'no im not, i'm actually commiting a murder' which i like & is funny & she would say that and then theres teh vauge oooohhhhh im so Freaky & I Have A Gun or whatevr like augsugsaihuahahaouoauauoouauoauoauoauuo

also twelve & river had freaky t4t bi4bi aroallo sex after the end of husbands of river song but no actual dw writer is enlightened enough to see that because they have to flatten her into The Doctors Wife & she would have had a far better dynamic with 12 than with 11 (not that i'm biased) i wish they got more time togetherrrrrrrrrrr also you should listen to the bekdel test (diary of river song audio with missy)