#marriage and girlfriends and partners are just things we made up

[squishysphealgirl]

i have gone beyond the veil of amatonormativity; not even the ebbs and flows of my heart can make me return

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,” 

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it. 

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead. 

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?” 

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,” 

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,” 

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?” 

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,” 

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?” 

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,” 

Yup, you have a headache now. 

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?” 

Why were you considering this? 

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?” 

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?” 

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“ 

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble. 

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor. 

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it. 

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life. 

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this. 

He said your name, “Well?” 

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did. 

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place. 

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself. 

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now. 

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was. 

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh. 

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?” 

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,” 

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror. 

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?” 

“Gojo, this is—“ 

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,” 

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?” 

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,” 

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“ 

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire  — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way. 

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion. 

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed. 

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most. 

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event. 

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did. 

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn. 

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,” 

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?” 

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate. 

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them. 

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“ 

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled. 

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,” 

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” 

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours. 

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?” 

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,” 

“No one can see us,” 

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,” 

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling. 

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?” 

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks. 

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?” 

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn. 

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,” 

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“ 

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you. 

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare. 

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?” 

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had. 

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst. 

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,” 

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?” 

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.” 

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“ 

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,” 

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,” 

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?” 

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt �� hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru. 

And you really didn’t hate Suguru —  it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him. 

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs. 

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend. 

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“ 

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?” 

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it. 

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“ 

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,” 

“How long will you be gone?” 

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?” 

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,” 

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?” 

“You don���t have to—“ 

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm. 

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.” 

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,” 

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.” 

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there. 

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious. 

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point. 

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended? 

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds 

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge. 

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later. 

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you— 

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?” 

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,” 

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?” 

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter. 

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,” 

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it. 

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them. 

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t. 

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one? 

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again. 

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy. 

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept. 

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen. 

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?” 

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?” 

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,” 

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?” 

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly. 

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?” 

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?” 

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,” 

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts. 

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,” 

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”  

You glanced at the time, he’s late. 

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a  way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground. 

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked. 

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad. 

It was probably the latter. 

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel. 

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,” 

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?” 

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh. 

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch. 

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?” 

“A bad rom com,” 

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,” 

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,” 

He sighs, running fingers through his hair,  “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,” 

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,” 

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table. 

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,” 

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,” 

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,” 

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,” 

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,” 

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?” 

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem. 

It was unspoken. 

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t. 

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now. 

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever. 

Your neck hurts. 

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed. 

Or what you thought was your bed. 

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear. 

Gojo. 

Gojo??? 

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears? 

You really should have fucking known better. 

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer. 

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh. 

Fuck. Your. Life. 

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes. 

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first. 

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?” 

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—” 

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone. 

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur. 

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace. 

“What is it?” 

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?” 

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,” 

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan. 

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,” 

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,” 

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?” 

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long. 

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding. 

Fuck. You were so screwed. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. 

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything. 

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress. 

Another knock. 

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?” 

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?” 

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square. 

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,” 

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,” 

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair. 

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,” 

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?” 

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,” 

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,” 

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks. 

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,” 

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this. 

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan. 

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over. 

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it. 

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?” 

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips. 

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,” 

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in,  “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his. 

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—” 

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?” 

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?” 

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. 

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,” 

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh. 

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—” 

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips. 

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—” 

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?” 

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“ 

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act? 

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins. 

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru. 

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him. 

Like it always never was. 

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,” 

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours. 

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—” 

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—” 

“My apartment isn’t—” 

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away. 

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo,  “Gojo, what do you want me to say?” 

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“ 

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head. 

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“ 

“But what you said—“ 

“I said what I had to—“ 

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room. 

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“ 

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?” 

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“ 

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,” 

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand. 

“Give you what?” 

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“ 

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop. 

No, it was. It was, right? 

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“ 

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“ 

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,” 

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,” 

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?” 

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“ 

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?” 

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you. 

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?” 

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,” 

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone. 

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer. 

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards. 

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,” 

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,” 

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,” 

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,” 

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”  

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress. 

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?” 

Slap. It’s definitely a slap. 

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest. 

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?” 

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance. 

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you. 

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,” 

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders. 

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away. 

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.” 

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name. 

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side. 

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate. 

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you. 

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —- 

And he realized it was you. 

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“ 

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?” 

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat. 

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you. 

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?” 

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit. 

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased. 

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,” 

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,” 

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief. 

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit. 

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,” 

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back. 

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined. 

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,” 

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. 

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin. 

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,” 

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.” 

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“ 

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life. 

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again. 

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body. 

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle. 

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,” 

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes. 

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—” 

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—” 

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out. 

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face. 

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you. 

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours. 

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.” 

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist. 

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips. 

Fuck, it was real.  

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake. 

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more. 

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse. 

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?” 

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort. 

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body. 

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,” 

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,” 

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer. 

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?” 

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips. 

“How about we make breakfast together?” 

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good. 

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?” 

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?” 

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,” 

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again  — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?” 

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,” 

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck. 

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,” 

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile. 

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,” 

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?” 

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze. 

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,” 

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.” 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present. 

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present. 

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you? 

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it. 

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview. 

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture. 

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation. 

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now? 

There’s only one person who’d text like that. 

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now? 

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business. 

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly. 

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink. 

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head. 

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you. 

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that. 

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman. 

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets. 

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go. 

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,” 

“I was expecting to meet 

I suppose we’re on the same page,” 

He tilts his head, “Really?” 

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,” 

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,” 

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her. 

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her. 

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?” 

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“ 

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you. 

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways. 

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back. 

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen. 

You needed to talk to him in person. 

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet. 

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt. 

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,” 

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,” 

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line. 

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,” 

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” 

And he’s blinking, “Why?” 

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—” 

“But you didn’t—” 

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,” 

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?” 

“No I don’t—” 

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?” 

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,” 

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?” 

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?” 

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“ 

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,” 

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?” 

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“ 

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“ 

“But—“ 

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?” 

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,” 

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.” 

And this time he doesn’t stop you. 

It’s for the best. 

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas. 

It was for the best. 

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories. 

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them. 

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru. 

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did. 

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing. 

Fuck. You were home. 

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye. 

Gojo? 

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name. 

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops. 

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address. 

Satoru was…getting married? 

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here. 

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove. 

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved. 

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot. 

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors. 

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy. 

Even if it wasn’t with you. 

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now. 

So you wait. 

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom. 

That wasn’t Satoru. 

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding? 

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were. 

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head. 

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows. 

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands. 

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.” 

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?” 

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze,  “Satoru—” 

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips. 

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—” 

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it. 

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek. 

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,” 

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,” 

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake. 

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

[kpop---scenarios]

Monster (2)

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Felix

Genre: Mafia, Arranged Marriage

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of blood etc

Word Count: 3k

Taglist: @gloriajovicc @bluebeard67 @stephanieeeyang @mouseyboo @stayatinykatsy @thicccurls @thecutiepieme @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @kayleefriedchicken @msauthor @chloe-elise-2000

One |

“Are you sure you're okay?” Chan asks, glancing back to where your supposed boyfriend had previously stood. You watched as he walked off with his partner, part of you now felt like there was more to the story, but you weren't going to admit that right now.

“Yeah I'm fine.” You smile. “But I do think I'm going to go. Thank you both for a wonderful night, let's do it again.” You smile. You move out of the booth as fast as you can, trying to get away before either of them can say anything to you. Even if Seojoon and you weren't in the best place in your relationship, why was he lying to you about where he was? If he had told you he wanted to go out with some coworkers, you wouldn't have cared.

As soon as you stepped outside, the cool air hitting you in the face, your body cooled down immensely. You hadn't realized how hot you had felt, from being flustered with Seojoon or from being around Felix and Chan - you weren't sure. You pull out your phone, clicking your boyfriend's contact, you place the phone up to your ear as you walk to the edge of the sidewalk to hail a cab.

The phone continues to ring, and ring and ring. Once you get into your cab, you hang up the call, telling the driver your address to take you home. You enter your shared apartment and the feeling of loneliness consumes you. The quietness is so fucking loud, you can feel it in your heart. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remember a good memory here you had with Seojoon, something, anything but no matter how much you tried, all your happy memories were things you did here alone, or times that you were alone here which was more often than not, and you didn't mind it. Which should say something. That night you laid in your bed, trying to dream about your boyfriend, but found yourself dreaming about two other men instead.

In the morning you woke up to the sounds of dishes banging in the kitchen. You got out of bed, walked to the kitchen rubbing your eyes, you saw your boyfriend, shirtless, flour and other ingredients all over the counter and breakfast cooking on the stove.

“What's this?” You ask, rubbing your eyes.

“Good morning.” He smiles. “I'm making breakfast.”

“I can see that.” You chuckle. “But why?” You ask. Seojoon stares at you, almost like he's trying to study your face to see what you know. Did he see you last night?

“I can't make breakfast for my girlfriend?” He asks, turning back to the stove.

“You can, you just never have. So I'm a little confused.” You say. You weren't lying and he knew that.

“What did you get up to last night?” He asks, completely avoiding answering your question.

“I went to the club with some new friends.” You told him. “Was work very busy last night?” You ask.

“Yeah it was. But we had some down time, so I went for dinner with the guys. Other than that it was pretty uneventful.. same old, same old.” He says. “Who are your new friends?”

You watch him bring his coffee cup up to his lips. His eyes are watching you intensely. “Bang Chan and Lee Felix.” You say. Seojoon chokes on his coffee, spitting some out while he coughs on the rest. He sets down his cup as he tries to catch his breath but you don't move. That was a weird reaction to the names, it made the wheels in your head spin.

“W..wrong..tube.” He gasps, practically coughing up a lung.

“I hate when that happens.” you sigh. “Do you know them?” You ask.

“No, no, how would I know them?” He awkwardly laughs. “How did you meet them?” He wonders.

“At my dad's party.” You say.

He nods his head. “Did you have fun? You know, I don't think I've ever met your friends before.” He smiles. “We should change that.”

“This change is weird and sudden.” You whisper.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I was going to talk to you today. About how alone in this relationship I feel. And how I feel like you're lying to me about something.”

Seojoon looks at you, with a look you don't quite understand before he smiles widely, placing his hands on your arms before he plants a kiss on your forehead. “You worry too much. What are these friends of yours filling your head with?” He laughs. “I definitely need to meet them now to set them straight.” He laughs again. The most forced, and fake laugh that you had ever heard. He goes back to the stove, finishing making breakfast for the two of you.

You ate a little bit before, heading to the bathroom to shower. You weren't sure what the fuck was going on, but something felt so off but you indulged this new Seojoon. You weren't about to tell him no when he's becoming interested in certain aspects of your life because he's never done this before. Which is how you ended up sitting in a pub next to Seojoon, a drink in front of each of you as you waited for Chan and Felix to show up. When you had called the two of them to ask if they would meet with the two of you, they laughed so hard through the phone you were about to hang up on them, until they agreed, without you having to convince either of them to do it.

“Hi beautiful.” Chan says as he walks up to the table, smiling at you.

“You look stunning.” Felix grins, giving you a sly little wink. You glanced over at Seojoon, who looked unfazed by the nicknames from the two men across from you guys.

“You must be Seojoon.” Chan says, glaring at him. Felix didn't say a word, just stared at him, while Seojoon smiled widely.

“Nice to meet you two. You must be.. Bang chan.” He says, pointing to Chan. “And you Lee Felix.”

“You're right.” Felix says. “Good job.”

Silence around the table consumes you, making you feel so uncomfortable. You looked between the three men, Seojoon's eyes darting between Felix and Chan, Felix and Chan glaring hard at Seojoon and you sat there for a second, before the waitress walked by.

“Excuse me!” You yell. “I'm sorry, could we get some shots.. please.” You ask, begging her with your eyes. She looks around the table, feeling the tension between everyone.

“So.” You smile. “What are you guys doing tonight?” You ask Felix and Chan. They turn to look at you, smiling.

“We're actually going to your fathers house.” They announce. You look shocked. You had no idea anything was happening tonight.

“Oh? What's going on?” You ask.

“Just a late dinner, that's all. I told your dad I was seeing you this evening, and he told me to extend the invitation.. to you.” Chan explains.

Seojoon looks down at his phone before back up at you. “I gotta go to work.” He sighs. “I'm sorry..you.” He says. “You two.. make sure you take care of my girl.” He says, another forced laugh before he kisses your forehead. He slides out of the booth, walking away and out of the pub.

Chan and Felix both burst into laughter as soon as he's out of view. “Never, and I mean never, ask me to hangout with him again.” Felix laughs.

“I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable sitting with a cop before.” Chan chuckles.

“He's not a cop, you guys.” You groan.

“Why does he walk like that?” Felix asks. “Cause he's a cop.”

“Why does he talk like that?” Chan asks. “Cause he's a cop.”

“Oh my god, would you two..” before you can finish, your waitress comes with your shots. You quickly take yours and Seojoon's before heading to your fathers.

Later that night, when you got home, Seojoon was already home, in bed and asleep. You were surprised, usually when he was called away it was at least a day before you saw him again. You quietly undressed yourself, got into your pj's and crawled into bed. You dozed off quickly to the faint sound of Seojoon snoring beside you. It didn't feel like you'd been asleep long enough when you're woken up to the sound of Seojoon answering his phone. You looked at your phone, it was 3:45 in the morning. Who the hell was calling him so early? As you tried to fall back asleep, you listened to him speak, only catching a few words here and there.

“Yes. YES.” He whispers. “Bang Chan.. Lee Felix.. big...us.”

Us. you think. A big what for us? And who is us? Why were Felix and Chan so important to him? You squeeze your eyes closed as you hear him try to quietly shuffle back into the room, crawling back into bed, falling asleep quickly, while you lay awake, thinking.

The next morning, Seojoon had gone to work before you had even woken up, like usual. You knew there was something going on with him, but you couldn't quite figure out what. Felix and Chan were still convinced he was a cop, but no, you didn't think he was able to pull that off. Later in the day, you called him, wanting to see if you could catch him in another lie.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” You begin. “Are you gonna be late today?” You ask. “I saw the big pile up on the news, how fucking awful. Are you working that accident?”

“Oh hi, um, yeah, I'm here now. It's so bad, babe. Like so bad. I probably won't be back until tomorrow, maybe the next day if I need to work extra. I'll call you, Kay? Oh gotta go.” He says, hanging up the call.

“That lying piece of fucking shit!” You scream. There was no pile up. You made it up to see what he would say and he fell right into the trap. You dial a different number this time, needing someone to talk to. “Hey. Are you guys busy?”

“You're sure?” Felix asks, glancing at Chan.

“What else could it be?” You sigh. “He's cheating on me.” You pout, taking a sip of your cocktail.

“He's a..” Chan begins.

“Stop it. He's not. There's no way. Look, I called him and asked him if he was working a pile up and he straight up lied to me about it.” You say. “I bet if I call him right now, he either won't answer or it'll be some other bullshit he spews.”

“Call him.” Felix says, gesturing to your phone. You finish your drink before dialing his number. Putting your phone on speaker and setting it on the table as you let it ring.

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Hello?”

Your eyes go wide, staring at both men, who stare back at you. It was a woman's voice. A woman's voice that you did not recognize. Your hand had never moved so fast to end a call before. Your screen goes black, with you sitting in silence, Felix and Chan unsure of what to say to you.

“I guess that's that.” You say. “Honestly, I thought I would have been sadder.” You chuckle. Truly, you felt fine, you almost felt a sense of relief. Like you finally had a reason to end things. You'd be able to get your apartment back, after he moved in sort of spur of the moment, with no discussion with you about it. A few months into dating, he came over with a whole bunch of shit, talking about how his lease expired and he thought it would be so fun to surprise you. A surprise was an understatement, that was for sure.

“You sure you're okay?” Chan asks, grabbing your arm as the three of you walk out of the bar.

“I'm completely fine.” You smile. “You guys go, I know you said you had some stuff to do.” You say, waving them off. You went home, seeing Seojoon there already, fast asleep, again. Could he not keep his lies straight? He wasn't even supposed to be home and frankly you didn't want to sleep next to a cheater, so that night you got changed and went to sleep on the couch, which only lasted a few hours before a continuous knocking on your front door woke you up.

“Y/N..” you hear from outside the door. “Fuck. Y/N!”

You pull the door open, seeing Chan, hunched over, his arm wrapped around his stomach. “What the hell?” You gasp. He stands up as much as he can, looking at you as your eyes trail his body. You can see the blood seeping through his fingers. “What happened?” You whisper, pulling him inside. You pull him to the bathroom, checking on Seojoon before you quietly close the door.

“Felix and I had some stuff to handle, the guy fucking stabbed me.” He grunts. You dig through your drawers, finding your first aid kit. You always had at least some medical supplies on hand, just in case. This wasn't the first time you needed to sew someone's wound.

“Where's Felix?” You ask.

“He got out of there, they got me as I was trying to take off. I remembered you lived around here. I'm sorry.” He says.

“I'm glad you came.” You smile. You help Chan to sit on the counter before you get your needle and thread out. “I'm just gonna..” you pause, your fingers lifting the hem of his shirt. Chan leans back as much as he can, you lift his shirt, revealing an extremely nice set of abs.

“Wow.” You whisper, closing your mouth to stop you from drooling. You can see Chan smirking from the corner of your eye as you grab disinfectant spray. “This is probably gonna sting.” You warn.

“Just do it.” He says through gritted teeth. You spray his wound, Chan opens his mouth to yell but nothing comes out. The silent yelling as he squeezes his eyes shut. Once you're done, you start getting your other things ready, warning him that this is also gonna hurt.

“Believe me, not my first time getting stitched with no numbing.” He chuckles.

“Luckily for you, not my first time stitching without numbing.” You grin. You start sewing him up, and his eyes never leave you. He watches you with such intent, how you concentrate on your work. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched you.

“Oh fuck.” He hisses, one spot a little more tender than the others.

You can hear Seojoon stir in the other room. You stop, waiting, listening.

“Y/N?” You hear a groggy Seojoon call out. You quickly stand up, dropping the needle as you press yourself against Chan, covering his mouth with your hand.

“I'm just in the bathroom.” You yell out.

“Ah, okay.” He yawns. “You okay? I thought I heard another voice?”

“That was my phone.” You say back. Chan's stare burns into your face as you wait to listen for Seojoon to shuffle back to bed. Your body pressed against his, felt so good, he completely forgot about his stab wound. Once you're confident that Seojoon has gone back to bed, you move your hand from Chan's mouth, taking a deep breath.

“I'm sorry.. I just..” you start as you back away. Chan grabs your wrist, pulling you back towards him. “What are you doing?” You whisper.

“Do you have any idea how bad I fucking want you?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. Your breath hitches.

His phone rings, he lets go of your wrist, answering it quickly. “Felix? Yeah, okay. I'm on my way.”

“Sorry princess, I gotta go.” He says, grunting as he gets off the counter.

“I'm not done.” You whisper. The world is spinning. He made your fucking head spin.

“It's good enough. Thank you.” He whispers, pling his shirt down. You put your supplies away, open the door and immediately hear Seojoon snoring. You usher Chan out the door, opening the front for him. “Is Felix okay?” You ask as he turns to go.

“Don't worry about him, or me. We're both gonna be just fine.” He winks, walking down the hallway and out of view.

In the morning, you wake up on the couch to Seojoon sitting in the chair next to you.

“Morning.” He smiles.

“Don't.” You sigh, getting up.

“What did I do?” He chuckles.

“Are you cheating on me?” You ask. He looks stunned, shocked and panicked.

“W-what? Me? No?”

“Something is going on, either you tell me now or I'm fucking done.” you spit.

“Babe..” He chuckles. “You're being delusional.”

“Get out.” You yell. “I'm done. This is done.” You say.

“Y/N.” He pleads. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Do I? You've never told me. Go ahead.” You say, crossing your arms, waiting for what he was going to say.

“I.. you know. I lo..” he mumbles. “We've been together for so long. You know how I feel.”

“No. I don't. I honestly don't think you've ever told me that you've loved me. I've told you plenty. I've always been clear to you about my feelings, but you can't even give me the decency of saying it once to save the relationship.” You scoff. “I'm done. Get out. We're over. “ You spit. “You have an hour to pack your shit.”

You go to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind you. You run a bath, sit and scroll through your phone for an hour. You really fucking hoped he would be gone by the time you got out. And thankfully, he was. Your place was quiet, and you felt like you could breathe. But you also felt hurt. Why didn't he fight harder for you? Why did he give up so easily? Weren't you worth more?

You pulled out your phone, calling the two people who had become the closest people to you in your life.

“I did it.” You breathe. “I'm single.” You laugh.

“That's cause for celebration!” Felix exclaims.

“Get ready. We'll be there at 10 to pick you up.” Chan laughs. You were thankful for them, and how in the short time you'd known them they were always there for you. Little did you know, sooner rather than later, you'd need them even more.

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (part VIII)

VIII. A time to embrace

MASTERLIST

Summary: You negotiate Beth’s release

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: A tame chapter, writing slowburn is just… not what I usually do, arrange marriage is my favorite trope, that’s all I’m saying

You woke up groggy, and with a muscular ache that barely let you get up from the comfortable carpeted floor

“Hey”, you greeted the archer, who had barely changed positions

“Hey”, he greeted back. By the light… you could tell its been hours since you started your little nap, and you frowned when you realized it

“You let me sleep for hours!”, you chided gently, rubbing your forehead

“You fell through the floor!”, he said simply, “it’s fine”, you ate something you scavenge from your old “base”, as you kept watching that hospital

“Anything interesting?”, you asked

“A car jus’ came and went, and a doctor went to tha roof”

“A doctor?”

“White robes”, he muttered, you only hummed.

. . . 

You were actually a bit relieved when you saw the others pulled up, although the team wasn’t complete. Rick hugged Daryl tightly, and then he hugged you

“I thought you had been taken by the Terminus people”, he said angrily, looking at your eyes

“They’re back?”, you asked with urgency, “where…?”, fear settled in your gut

“We dealt with them already”, he said calmly. “we need a bigger place, let’s take some distance before they spot us”, he commanded, and you all got up inside the car and abandoned the office building. “Abraham took Maggie, Glenn and Tara to go with him to DC”, he explained, as you all met in a big room. “We will be meant to follow, after we get Beth”, he said. You nodded, “it's our best shot”

“You are right”, you assured him, “so… what’s the plan?”

If according to Daryl, your plan was so idiotic, you didn’t even shared it with Rick, instead, of course, he took the lead, with the help of Noah, you all hid in a warehouse and started planning the abstraction plan

“We take down those at the office, and then Daryl moves to take out this guard”, he said as his plan involved killing everyone in the hospital

“We were going to be seven, eight once we get a gun to Beth”

Who was Beth anyways? Maggie’s sister and Daryl’s partner? he was the most motivated to get her back, so you’d think she was his… girlfriend or something.

“So you’re just gonna kill everyone?”, asked Tyresse, and a discussion ensued. You also think this was a bit much, to kill them all, they were trained as cops and that made them a good rival.

Daryl grabbed RIck and took him to the side, 

“She thinks we should buy her way out with supplies”, he said quietly, “and medicine”

“She said that?”, asked Rick, with a frown on his face, Daryl looked at his friend and leader, his chosen brother

“Yeah”, he said. Rick saw the reason behind your suggestion, but he shook his head. “It’s too late now, besides, where would we find said things?”, he asked, “the city is completely sacked by now”, Daryl only let out a short growl as an acknowledgement 

You had killed people by now, four, by your counts, did they deserve to die? You had to believe they did, There was no justice system anymore, no religions, nothing, there was only you, and you enemies.

Rick didn’t want you anywhere near the operation, unknowingly to you, because of what Daryl told him, so you had a simple job, which was coming back to your safe house and grabbing everything you could use, including a car.

And it's exactly what you did, you gathered everything, cleaned the pantry and the rest of the weapons, and put it all together in a car you hijacked. 

Carol was with you, watching you intently, as Daryl was needed with Rick, he specifically requested it

“The journey to Washington it's going to be a long one”, you said, to make conversation, it would be an understatement to say Carol really made you nervous.

“Mmm yeah”, she muttered, without much thought, putting everything together, with this you had a couple of day’s worth of food.

“Do you think it’s real… the cure?”, you asked her, she looked at you, frowning

“Maybe”, she said, looking at you with her sharp blue eyes, a woman of few words. You understood her to certain points… you were a stranger, and by your counts, Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Carol went back the furthest, you are talking weeks or days even after everything went to shit, so yes, you’d understand if she was being weary of you, someone who she just met. So you tried not to take it personally. 

“You think they are going to get Beth back?”, you asked her

“I hope they do”, she said, “they will”, she said with determination

“Have her and Daryl… been together long?”, you tried, and you might as well drop a bucket filled with icy water on her, by the way she looked back at you

“You don’t know what you are talking about”, she said, with a somber tone in your voice

“You are right”, you said softly, but surprised, “I have no idea”

“They are not together!”, she said quickly, “Beth is barely eighteen!”, she said then, and you opened your mouth in an “o”

“I didn’t know, by the way Daryl talked about her… I just assumed…”, you said

“He feels responsible because she was with him when they took her, that’s all”, she said, but you didn’t know if she was trying to convince you or herself

You kept working after that, very uncomfortably.

She hated your guts

Now there weren't many personal possessions of yours left in the safehouse, you had tried to take everything with you, but still, you managed to keep some bullets, and a couple of t-shirts and jeans, so that’s that.

When you returned to the group, car loaded, the thing was done, they had taken two policemen as hostages and they were ready to make the trade

You were glad that Rick wanted to spare you from the mess, one of them had tried to escape and got killed by walkers, and Sasha had gotten a bad hit in the head.

You were preparing for the trade in the hospital. The plan was to enter through the main door and make the exchange there. Daryl, Rick, Carol, Tyresse and Sasha were ready to go with him, so was Noah

“Noah”, you called, he looked back at you, “stay here”, you commanded, forgetting yourself a bit

“I want to go”, he protested, Rick had that cray cray look in his eyes, looking back at you for explanations

“They are looking for you”, you said, “they had send men out in a real manhunt, they want you back… men had died because of it, if they see you… they will demand you stay”, you explained severely, “if they ask about you, we should say you ran away from us, that we don’t know where you are”, Rick shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and how much sense it made

“She is right”, he said, “Noah stay here” 

“But…”

“They want you to keep working, you owe them some sort of debt” you said, he only nodded. 

“You too”, said Rick, looking at you, “stay here, if you hear gunshots…”

“Go in, guns blazing”, you completed, he looked at you quizzically, but didn’t say anything.

You stood with Noah outside, and hid in one of the tents near the entrance, in case they had prepared a surprise attack and jumped them from behind in the entrance hallway.

“It's taking too long”, you muttered, looking inside the hospital. 

You heard an engine coming, and when you looked, a huge fire truck, and descended Maggie, Glenn, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene and Tara.

You came out of your hiding place and received them

“Rick is inside, trading for Beth”, you said, Maggie squeezed your arm with a soft smile and a nod.

The doors opened at that moment, and here they came, the entire group. led by Rick Carol and Tyresse and behind them came Daryl having his arms around a pretty girl with blonde hair and big blue eyes with a big smile on her face. 

And here came all the rest.

Maggie ran to meet her, and engulfed her sister in a big hug.

They were all so happy, and relieved, and you were so happy that everything worked out

For the first time since you knew him, you saw Daryl smile, like… truly smile.

“We are going to DC”, said Rick with a pleased smile on his face, as he watched all of you together 

But the faces of the crew that was supposed to be on their way there said it all 

And they wasted no time in filling you in…

Eugene was lying, he was no scientist, there was no cure, there was nothing in Washington for you all, not that you knew of.

it was childish of you to think there ever was a way out of this.

There was none, there was only one way to stay alive… to lean into your group, to survive, whatever it takes.

The realization dawned on all of the group as you gathered in that warehouse again, luckily for the morale in general apparently there weren't many of those who believed in it in the first place, including Rick and Daryl they never believed it existed said cure in the first place.

“What are we going to do now?”, asked Sasha

You caught Daryl staring at you, he was relieved but stood stuck to Beth’s side like a guard dog, you looked back at him

“(y/n) had a plan”, said Rick pointing at you, all eyes were on you, “she knows there is an island, on lake Lanier”, he said. “close from here, if we can take it, we can be safe there, an island is where more safer”

“According to the map I found…”, you said softly, “there is only one road leading to the island, if we can close that and control it, we can take control of the island, but I don’t know many details of it.

“Noah is from a safe community in Virginia”, said Beth immediately, you looked back at her. “I was going to accompany him there, he says there are tall walls, a thick gate, good houses..”

“It’s true”, he said, nodding enthusiastically, “my family is still there, my mother and brothers”

The group seemed divided. Rick looked at you, but you only shook your head. Your plan was a dot you saw on a map and hers seemed a bit more solid, but oh the pictures you had seen in that catalog, if it was intact, it seemed like a great opportunity

There was a huge hotel, and in the other side of the island you saw small cabins with lots of privacy, you could all live there, plant your own, even get some animals, like cattle, if you get a hold on a boat you could really just just anywhere around the lake and scavenge, it was a good idea.

But you remained quiet, because what if the island was overrun? what if it was a complete bust, what if someone died because of you and your plan?

Rick saw your doubts, and nodded

“Let's get out of this city first”, he said, “let’s go get Michonne, Carl, Judith and Gabriel, and let’s go”, he offered, you all nodded, and started the journey.

Decided to let Beth live, this is supossed to be a happy fic, so...

@crazyunsexycool

[tommyandrockersboy]

Rockon- Recruits

Deacon kay was a kind and honest man but if you asked him how he felt about new recruits he lie and say he didn’t mind them but deep down he hated them. He hated the way the would act since they are now in Swat but he usually got over it after while until Jayden ‘Jay’ Cross came along, Jay did not grow out of his ‘I’m in swat now phase’ and the worst part is he has had a crush on Donovan Rocker.

Deacons rocker, The same rocker who held him in his arms as deacon had a break down when he got back from a mission that involved kids. Deacon couldn’t handle calls with kids all he could think about was his own. But also the same rocker who would let deacon fuck him nasty and anytime he wanted.

That was 𝓱𝓲𝓼 Rocker.

It all started one day when 20-David had just got back from a mission and luckily enough cross had been assigned to partner with Deacon. He didn’t seem to mind until Cross ran off and almost got deacon and the team killed But worst of all he wouldn’t shut up about how hot he found Rocker. Deacons Rocker.

Deacon was still with Annie at the time even though they clearly were both not interested in each other anymore as of Deacon sleeping in the guest bedroom. The kids didn’t really seem to catch one which was good but deacon wanted out of this loveless marriage and wanted to be with his rocker forever.

Until Jay cross enter his life,relationship and family.

Rocker had deacon had a thing for boxing each other thats a know thing and at one of these matches Jay decided to watch and had the bright idea to make a move on rocker and by that He kissed him.

Jay kissed 𝓗𝓲𝓼 Rocker

Jay had kissed rocker in front of deacon but he couldn’t do anything and rocker didn’t react his mind went blank, No thoughts no feelings no nothing.

Rocker pushes Jay off. “Get the fuck off of me!” Rocker said wiping his mouth as he glances at Deacon

Jay moves closer to him kind of heart broken. “You were looking at my lips and have been eyeing me for months!” Jay yelled in his defense but it was too late deacon had made his way to rocker and jay on the other side of the locker room.

Jay glanced at Deacon, deacon was trying everything in his power not to lose his shit on jay. David Kay will protect Donovan with his life for anything. Even if a stupid 25 year old who thinks he can just kiss and try to sleep with anyone just because he’s apart of Swat.

“Listen here kid that’s Donovan Rocker. MY Rocker.” Deacon said raising his voice getting closer to jays face.

Jay cross never messed with donovan again but he did fuck annie kay, Deacon after he went home that day moved out and stayed in a hotel till he could find a nice house to rent. Between those 4 and a half days Annie met jay. Jay was what you would call a Himbo man whore.

The 3rd day of deacon being out of the house he came to get some more of his things when he saw them Fucking on the couch. Deacon didn’t react but jay did.

Jay locked eyes with rocker and freezes up and watch’s in fear as he carried out boxes of his stuff.

Just Deacons luck, Annie and jay are in a relationship and he’s met his kids and deacon is pissed that this kid has figure out a way to worm into his life.

One day in the locker room jay had the bright idea to bring up his girlfriend which happened to be Annie kay.

“Come on man tell us her name!” Luca said energetic.

before jay can even say anything deacon spits out. “He’s fucking my wife. Well soon to be ex wife since we are getting divorced and i haven’t even been out of the house for 3 days before he was fucking her in the bed we shared for years. But i’m with rocker now so.” Deacon says slamming his locker shut and leaving.

“David” Rocker said putting a hand on deacons shoulder and pulling him into a hug.

“I love you..” Deacon mumbled quietly into rockers shoulder

“I love you too you will not have to worry about jay anymore.” Rocker said holding deacons face in his hands.

Deacon didn’t know what he had meant but whatever it was he trusted rocker, He loved rocker so it didn’t matter what he meant he knew he in fact didn’t have to worry.

[herejusttosufferalong]

I think I’m one of the few people willing to give A a lot of grace. I’m 23 myself too and God knows sometimes I really do stupid shit.

I think we should side eye L a LOT more. Not claiming your girlfriend and doing this hot and cold shit makes you look soooo shady. I think we all collectively would be way chiller if he just confirmed his relationship and claimed her as his official girlfriend, instead he treats her like his young and hot side piece. I would freak out on my partner if I got treated like that.

Also, I don’t know what the hell a 23 year old and a 31 year old would have in common, but thats just my opinion. Very icky!

I'm going to be real transparent here and I'm probably going to regret it.

When I was 21-24 yo I dated 3 different men, ages 32-38. They were all successful business men who paid for everything. They also made it clear what we were, casual.

That of course was fine by me as I wasn't looking to be tied to any of these men. They all had at least one kid by the way and I wasn't about to play stepmom.

There was always a massive power dynamic at play of course but I knew what I was getting into. I had a plan. All three connections were financially beneficial to me and helped me to achieve what I have today.

All three relationships ended on decent terms, one was even an initial investor in my first business several years after we parted ways.

I may have been young and naive and there may be unresolved trauma that will rear its head later on down the road but I do not regret the choice. I saw the opportunity for what it was, fleeting connections with financial benefits. Nothing more, nothing less.

Now that is my personal story. At that time in my life I was fairly mentally and emotionally stable. I knew what I was getting into and accepted it for what it was.

I have noticed a lot of people, myself included, say that A is in it for the fame, notoriety, connections, etc. I definitely believe this to be true. However, I don't believe that is all she wants out of the relationship. She clearly is seeking more, she wants to be claimed.

This is not just a transactional (business) relationship for her and that is where I have issues.

I'm 33 now and have been married for 7 years. I have grown so much and that is due in part to my wonderful husband, 34. I could not imagine looking at a 23 yo and thinking we could be anything more than casual. Interests, life/generational experiences, short/long terms goals etc. would not align or overlap.

So, I am trying to figure what a 31 yo man is doing with a 23 yo. He has a career and has navigated several long term relationships, one where they admittedly talked about marriage and kids often. Yet here he is running around with an (unemployed?) dancer fresh out of school who seems to have no real friends outside of his. She seems to lack personal identity, autonomy, and self respect.

Either he intended on this just being a casual, rebound type of situationship or he has always had a real interest in pursuing a relationship with her. The latter is hard to reconcile and throws up many red flags.

I'm also not saying a casual fling was a good idea either.

My personal experience can not translate over to everyone. We all experience things differently. What worked for me may destroy you and vice versa.

I know we pick A apart often and I probably won't stop, but just remember we can only speculate on her intentions and notions of the relationship between her and L.

[cowboyjen68]

hi jen! i've know im a lesbian since I was 12, but because of my problems with socializing i've never actually had ANY romantic interactions(my lesbianism making things even harder, as you can imagine)

i'm almost out of high school and going to college, so i'm feeling very down about missing out on teen romance but dont want the same thing to happen again. do you have any tips on what i can do to avoid this problem in the future? i am genuinely clueless on what to do when looking for a partner, really

even if you dont actually have any advice to give i still really love your blog, it reminds me that lesbians can actually grow old and live happy lives💖💖thank you for hearing me out and i apologize for any grammar mistake!!

This is pretty easy because, while it was pretty outgoing and friendly, it was often not as my full self. I kept my horse girl, lesbian, butch and weird music and hobby side of myself under wraps from most of my friends. I had no word for lesbian or butch but my high school best friend knew I probably liked girls, we just never discussed it and it didn't bother her. It might have been harder on our friendship had I tried to come out in the 80's, not because it bothered her but the insinuations of all the others about our relationship would have been A LOT for a high schooler.

I waited until after college graduation and I used to sometimes look back and wonder how many times I missed out kissing a girl in high school or other women in college. How had twinges of regret for not having sex or even attempting intimacy with women.( I mostly avoided boys too because ew)

As I was sitting in a miserable passionless marriage to my wife of 17years, I pined for that passion and tingle that i had with my first girlfriend from ages 23 to 30. How many times did I miss that feeling with girls in my high school or college or at summer jobs because I was unsure of myself and not confident that any woman would find me attractive. I was even unsure if loving a woman was something I could do. Was it a real thing?

Looking back now I realize I just was not ready and most of my young friends in high school were not ready for me to be out and opening attracted to the same sex. I had fun in high school, made friends and had a small group of girls I was very close to. I enjoyed those friendships perhaps because I did not come out and cause those bonds to be strained.

In college I was concerned how my parents would react and I was in no way independent from their financial and emotional support. My friends were all around me experimenting with their sexuality and I was watching from outside, really wanting what they had but not willing to give up my security and college education to be open about being a lesbian. I knew I could just "do it and hide it" but I was not built for the stealthy life. I know if i was loving loving women it would be hard to be quiet.

Here is the point I am getting at with the sharing of all these experiences. If you were not ready to act on dating and attempting to date it is probably good that you listened to yourself. We are not on a time line and many young people feel pressured to date when their confidence, sexual maturity and social skills are not ready yet which can lead them to be vulnerable to abusive, controlling or unhealthy relationships. It is hard to listen to your own intuition and set and keep boundaries when you are trying to date just to not be the only one not dating.

What you more likely missed out on was not the thrill of dating but the hassle of pretending you want to date when it didn't feel right, at all.

You are heading to college. You are now becoming interested in the excitement of dating on your own and not because others think you need to date. You are craving the touch, the tingly feeling and the companionship of women. These are all good signs you are ready to date.

My advice:

1.Be honest with yourself and then her (your date) every time. Do not go on date number two if it does not feel right. If you are unsure go on another date but continue to listen to yourself.

2.You deserve passion and mutual excitement to be in the company of a woman. If one of you do not feel it, move on.

3.Do not stick to a relationship because it is "ok" or she is "nice" . You have the right to sexual, emotional and intellectual stimulation. Look for it and don't settle.

4.There will be other women so don't cling to the first one or the one willing to stick around just because she is there. If you don't feel all the afore mentioned excitement, be honest with yourself and her and move on.

5. Dating a woman with whom you share many wonderful moments and lots of joy does not mean you will be together forever or have that expectation. Short term love is a thing and neither of you are failures when that fades out.

6. Ask her. If you see a woman that interests you be clear that you would like to take her on a date and you have romantic interests. Don't be vague or try to use hints. This leads to miscommunications and false expectation every time.

7. Finally, use all the dating and flirting and breakups and heartbreaks and joy and fun and memories to form who and what you are looking for as a partner. All that experience is giving you a better idea on what makes you truly happy.

You missed out on nothing. The adventure is just beginning and it can start with a simple "Hi, I think you are cute. Would you be willing to go on a date with me?" She might say "no", but she MIGHT say "yes".

[scaryspears]

Hey I was wondering I rlly love Liu kang x bimbo reader

CAN YOU MAKE IT INTO A SERIES PLZ AN HAVE THE READER CALL HIM LIU LIU?! 🙆🏽🙇🏽‍♀️

Hey, sorry it took a long time to write this. I'm not sure if I'll make this into a series, but here is an attempt. I hope you enjoy.

Warning: I don't write NSFW but there is some sexual references and hints.

"Why don't you try raspberry?"

Liu didn't understand makeup one bit, but his attempt to help you choose colours was very endearing. Raspberry was his favourite lipgloss to see on you. Maybe it was the shade. Maybe it was the taste.

"Anything for you, Liu Liu."

What was even more endearing was seeing his reactions to your little nickname for him. The way he would blush and get all shy was so adorable.

If shopping and crushing the dreams of losers wasn't on your to do list then smothering Liu Liu with kisses certainly was, which was everyday.

"Are you going to keep talking to us with a serious face even though you haven't washed your face?" Johnny would often ask Liu, or something along those lines.

You knew your kiss marks were like a trophy to him, so it made you flutter whenever he showed them off proudly to his students. If you truly had your way you would stick yourself to his side.

To say you two were an odd couple was just the beginning of the observation. You shared nothing in common, and both of you had a different outlook on life. And in another life, maybe he would hate your guts. Thankfully that wasn't the case.

"I love this perfume of yours." his voice was a bit muffled from where his face was digging into your neck.

There was a hungry look in his eyes, and somehow you could tell there was something going on in his mind. Normally you wouldn't mind, but there was something different. It wasn't the usual softness, he was possessive. There was an intent behind that possessiveness and you just had to know what.

"Is there something on your mind?" you asked him.

"Flower, I've been wondering-" he started, which made you alert for what he would say next. "If we should make changes to ourselves."

That was one way to word it, and Liu Kang's words came out wrong when his romantic feelings were intense, an adorable tick of his.

"What kind of changes?" you asked him, batting your eyes.

His face was all flushed, and you could hear his heart beating. "I've been considering the two of us... how we should go about this. Since we've been intimate, I was thinking of courting you."

Courting was different to dating. Courting meant looking for marriage.

"You want to make things official?" you started to grin, "Aw, Liu Liu." you smothered him with kisses again. This time it wasn't just his face.

A time lord could handle a lot, but you always surprised him with your energy. This time it was your turn to be surprised.

As you lay in the bed you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, and Liu Liu was still up and about.

"Darling, do you just want to court me?" you asked him.

He came over to the bed and kissed your cheek, "I wish for much more." his eyes trailed over to your stomach but he quickly averted his eyes.

He wanted permission to do that to you. To have that with you. You weren't too young, and you weren't old. For whatever reason you felt honoured that he saw you that way. None of your past partners could picture you as anything other than a girlfriend. Sometimes you were even an experiment, to see how long the pretty girl lasted before she lost her mind drowning herself in makeup.

There was just something endearing about Liu Kang wanting more. It made your knees weak, and your hands twitch in eagerness.

"I do." you smiled, as if at a wedding, which you have always wanted to experience at least once but never got to consider.

"I do too." he returned, immediately understanding the vows you made to him.

For two people with grace and decorum it didn't occur that a ring should be present.

[aroeddiediaz]

A confession

If there’s one thing Eddie can give credit to the Catholics for, it’s that they build beautiful churches. Dim light streams through the stained glass windows, making the images of the Virgin Mary and Jesus glow. His shoes click on the glossy marble floor as he passes rows of empty pews. 

He enters the confessional and sits. The priest’s voice comes through the grate in the wall. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

“Amen.” Eddie’s mouth is dry. He clears his throat and speaks, voice measured, but with a thread of uncertainty in it. “Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

“It’s been, oh, 18 or so years since my last confession. I haven’t really kept track of when I stopped doing this. Uh, I’m not really sure where to start.”

“That’s quite all right,” the priest says. “Start with what’s troubling you most.”

“I fucked up- sorry, messed up. I messed up badly, and now my son won’t speak to me. It’s been months and we still haven’t been able to have a real conversation.”

The priest said “I see. Would you mind telling me my details of what happened “

“I cheated on my girlfriend. Well, sort of to be honest, it wasn’t exactly cheating. We never did anything. The thing is, she looked exactly like my late wife. Shannon. I knew it was messed up from the beginning, but I felt like it was fate or something. Like it was a chance for a do-over. My first marriage was rough. We married young, mostly because I got her pregnant. And then I joined the military. I thought I was supporting her, but to be honest, I was just running away. I wasn’t scared of the baby, I think. 

What I was scared of was becoming like my parents. My dad, he was an engineer, and he often had to travel. And that put a strain on his marriage with my mom. They tried to keep it from me, but I would hear them having whispered arguments in the kitchen at night when I was asleep or over the phone. And my mom wasn’t happy, because she needed him, and he wasn’t there. So a part of me was afraid. Afraid of that even if I tried, I wouldn’t be able to be better than my dad. So instead, I found a nobler  reason to run.

The thing is though, I don’t know if we would’ve been able to have that ideal relationship, the one I used to dream about seeing when I was a little boy. Shannon and I had our fights. Even after I came back from the war, I couldn’t be emotionally available to her, and she couldn’t handle the burdens that I placed on her, so she left me. I was drowning on my own before I moved to LA. Then I found support. And then she came back. I thought that I could fix things. Make sure she wouldn’t want to leave me again. But as much as I cared about her, I think maybe what I loved the most was the idea of our relationship. 

She asked me for a divorce, Two days after that, she died. I guess no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t get past that. I thought I was doing things right. I thought I was being enough. But there was something that I was missing.

I tried to fix it, in my other relationships. I thought that the problem was the burdens that we went through when we were still young and we made mistakes. So when I dated Ana, I tried to be the perfect partner. Then I got shot and she ended up helping to nurse me back to health. and I think I realized during that time that, despite all the emotional labor, each of us had put into that relationship, it never felt like a relationship that should be long-term. It felt like we were both acting the parts of a play. I just wish that I broke it off sooner.

So then I thought maybe the issue was the expectations I placed on the relationship. I went into my relationship with Ana thinking that I needed to find a replacement for Shannon. I needed a new wife and a mother for Christopher. When I dated Marisol, I tried to let go of those expectations and just do things naturally. But I think I was convincing myself that if I waited long enough, those feelings would eventually emerge. But they never did. I just ended up feeling guilty here and guiltier overtime because we were dating and we were getting to know each other better, but my heart wasn’t really in it. And that’s when I saw Kim.

I shouldn’t have pursued her. But I think that a part of me hoped that if I could get closure from someone who looks so much like her, that I would be able to fix whatever was broken inside of me,whatever it was that wouldn’t let me move on. I was certain by that point that whatever my feelings for Shannon were, however complicated they were, that was the closest thing to true love that I had ever experienced. And I hope that if I confronted them with someone who could help me move on, then I would finally get over this weird mental block I had with Marisol, or someone else.

It was wrong. I think I knew that the whole time. But I didn’t stop until my best friend found out what was happening and confronted me. I told Kim everything. Well, I didn’t tell her about Marisol. But I thought that would’ve been the end of it.

Kim came back though. She actually tried to dress up like Shannon, she cut her hair to look similar and she changed her clothing. And she got me to do this role-play where I could bear out my grievances, and when I did, I thought for a moment that maybe this was it. I could explain to her why her breaking my heart hurt so much and how she had changed something inside of me.

Of course, that’s when Christopher and Marisol walked in. Marisol broke up with me of course, and Chris wouldn’t speak to me. He even got his grandparents to come pick him up and take him back to their home in El Paso. And he hasn’t come back yet.

I thought Kim would help me fix me, or help me find clarity. But I’m more confused now than ever.

I think now, that as much as I liked, and admired, and enjoyed being around Shannon, that maybe, I was never actually in love with her. I think maybe I can’t. I know what love is. I love my son. I love my friends. I even love my parents, even though I’m more frustrated with them now than ever. I think the love I have for Shannon is the kind of love that I would feel for anyone who has gone through so much struggle with me, but not the kind that a husband should have for his wife.”

The priest is silent for a long moment. “You have been through a lot, it is not a surprise that you are confused. I think that you have an idea in your head of how a relationship should look. But that is not what is necessary.“

Eddie says, “I know that a marriage doesn’t have to be what the church considers right. I know that it doesn’t have to be a man and a woman and two kids and a picket fence. But I have seen how happy my friend and her wife are. I have seen how happy my coworker has been with his wife who was previously in an abusive relationship, and I have seen my captain and his wife have found new love despite both of their spouses' untimely deaths. I’ve seen how my best friend looks when he’s in love, when he’s heartbroken. What does it say about me that I don’t think I’ll ever feel those feelings? What does it say about me that I destroyed my bond with my son and hurt him so badly in pursuit of it?“

The grate between their booths in the confessional obscures the priest’s face, but when he glances through he can see a gentle smile. “It means that you are different from them. And that is not a bad thing. It does not mean that you are broken, or that you are wrong. Maybe you won’t fall in love. Maybe you will never find what kind of relationship you have wished for. But that does not mean that you won’t have fulfillment. You love your job, right? You love your son, and your friends. Maybe others have told you that you need more in your life to be truly happy, but I think that as long as you’re being truly honest with yourself, that is what matters.”

Eddie isn’t sure he can just accept that, not yet. Not when the distance between him and Chris is still a gaping wound. Still, it’s nice to hear from someone who should be condemning him for his failures that he can fix things. “Thank you, Father.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

It feels weird not to be requesting the murder mystery party (The story was so perfectly written!) but I am loving the Librarian!Buck story already!

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 🔼

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

Ahh thank you so much!! You are so kind!!!

30 for 🚨:

---

He wants to push it further. Give his dad the opportunity to say the wrong thing. Let Eddie off the hook of doing any emotional labor if all that’s going to happen is disappointment and hurt. 

“I’m going to ask him to marry me.”

Ramon nods. “If he makes you that happy, and you know him that well, then you should. That’s great, son.”

Fuck. It’s exactly the right thing to say. Not a hint of judgment or disdain. 

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles. 

Maybe this is worth the risk. Maybe. 

He takes a deep breath. 

“This doesn’t mean I forgive Mom,” he tells his father. “This is… If we work on it, it’s just between us.”

“I know that,” Ramon nods. “She and I have… Well, we’ve discussed this. If she wants to change how things are between the two of you, she has to do that herself. But I’m not waiting for her to get there.”

Eddie can imagine them fighting about it. Her wounded pride. Her probably valid grievances about the kind of partner Ramon was, only to have this clarity now. But he’s right. It’s up to her to cross the distance between them. Even if Eddie isn’t sure he can forgive her. He definitely won’t if she doesn’t try. And… And maybe he’s glad his father is trying. 

---

Gonna move 🔼 to the bottom and put it under the cut for NSFW content.

So, 30 for 🧟:

---

But could things be way worse for her and the people she loves most? Easily. 

And the thing is, they sort of were. 

Before the end of life as they knew it, Hen had been dancing around the potential end of things as she knew it. Her marriage. Her family. Her stability. And it had been all Hen’s fault. 

Her ex, Eva, had been up for parole. Hen had gone to visit her a few times, before she’d gotten out of jail, and after. Nothing had happened, but she’d lied to Karen about it. Knowing it was an insecurity in their relationship. Knowing Karen wouldn’t be happy to find out. But Karen did find out and the resulting arguments had not been good. Hen had been scared. Scared and mad. Scared for her marriage and her future. Mad at herself. Mad at Eva. She’d felt close to imploding.

And then the world ended.

The thing is, apocalypses put all your other problems into perspective. You forget about meddlesome ex-girlfriends/bio mothers rather quickly when the chance is more than likely that she’s now a zombie. You put issues behind you super fast when you come so close to death. And Hen and Karen did that. They made up. Karen forgave her. They moved on. They survived. 

---

30 for 📖:

---

When he calls Carla, she explains it. Shannon Diaz was killed by a distracted driver in Mar Vista. She was crossing the street when the driver blew through a crosswalk, striking her down. Eddie’s fire station responded to the call. He had to watch her die. Buck feels sick, listening to the story.

He doesn’t know what to do about it. There is nothing he can do about it. He’s already too late to attend the funeral. Not that that would be appropriate. Would it? He’s not sure what the etiquette is. He’s not expected to do anything. He didn’t know Shannon Diaz. He is her son’s librarian. He is somewhat friendly with her widower. That’s all. 

And yet, he feels he needs to do something. 

He thinks about it for days. Days, in which Christopher never comes back to the library. Where Buck feels like absence from the after school programming like a redacted line on a page. 

So he does something a little stupid. Technically against the rules. Eddie could probably get him fired, if he doesn’t like it. Buck hopes he won’t, though.

He goes to a local indie bookstore and buys a probably unnecessarily large stack of kids books. Things he knows are right at Christopher’s reading level or just above it. Adds in a little bookmark with a watercolor illustration of Santa Monica Pier. Wraps them up in recycled gift wrap. Attaches a card.

---

30 for 🔼:

⚠️NSFW CONTENT AHEAD READ WITH CAUTION⚠️

---

 Her enjoyment of it seems amplified, too. Eddie’s not going to take that as any specific review on his mouth’s own capabilities. Just that Shannon was really ready for this. So much so in fact, that she’s urging him to continue as soon as she’s finished once. She wants more. He wants to give her more.

So he takes off his belt and shimmies out of his pants. Throws her shirt and boxers on the floor. He’s vaguely, distantly aware it’s his work uniform and he left work for this. He pushes the concern aside. Right now, this feels more important than anything. Which is probably a sign his critical thinking skills are well and truly diminished to ashes. 

They have sex that feels nothing like making love and everything like desperation. Like they both have been wandering around in search of water, and this is the closest they can find that is relief. But not the oasis promised in a mirage. He’s thinking it. He thinks she’s thinking of it. It would be better if… 

Well…

It’s not bad. Not at all. It’s great, as far as orgasms go.

But he’s thinking about Buck and Shannon kissing when he comes. 

▶️

It doesn’t end up being the same as usual. Because usually, they’d have sex to avoid talking, and she sort of always let him get away with it. This time, Shannon changes the ordinance. 

“What the hell was that about?” She asks, breathlessly, once they’re recovered enough to speak.

“Sex?” Eddie asks. 

[bluedemon1995]

Finally done! Hope you enjoy!

Free day 8

After that dramatic declaration, she LEFT. Wouldn’t answer his calls or texts. Said it was for his own good. Yeah right. There’s no world or universe that her not being in his life was good for him.

He had a quick meeting of the minds and told them in no uncertain terms, that he was not going to let her have her way. She could not just avoid him forever. She was his. But he needed help. If she wouldn’t see him, he needed help.

He was in trouble though. He had no real experience in dating. Nor was he any good with feelings or talking. Shit. This was going to take some planning.

Day 9 10/31 Happy Halloween

“Just say it. Say you don’t want me. Say you don’t love me anymore. Stop dragging this out!” Katie exclaimed angrily, wiping at the tears escaping her hazel eyes.

Keith froze. What the fuck?! He didn’t give a shit about the Halloween ball or party. Don’t want her? Not love her? How could that ever be a reality? He didn’t just love her. He adored her. He worshipped her. She was his world. How did she not know? How did he fail so epically that he was contemplating marriage, and she was thinking they were over?

He’s moving without conscious thought, grabbing her hand, and dragging her out of the Halloween party of some stuffy ballroom. No this was not acceptable. He pulled her not caring how it looked to those around them. Unfortunately, not everyone was on the same page. Some new Staff Sergeant moved in his path. Keith growled.

“Oh, excuse me, I was hoping for a minute of your time. Care to dance?”

Katie rolled her eyes. Oh, she knew this, Sergeant. Tough as nails in battle yet, Veronica called her a lion…panther…or maybe a cougar. She had quite the reputation of loving the attention of men especially younger men who had battle experience. The way Veronica talked; no man has ever said no to her. She knew she was after Keith from the debrief a few weeks ago.

Katie was used to feeling inadequate though. She always had faith in Keith. It didn’t matter if girls liked him or threw themselves at him. She knew he was loyal to the core and would never cheat. But that didn’t make seeing people throw themselves at him any easier. Each time, it felt like it chipped away at her. Sometimes she felt like that little girl who had no friends and was isolated. Biting her lip, she tuned back into the conversation.

Keith was giving her some information but seemed angry. She should leave. She pulled her arm away, and whispered, “Keith, why don’t you figure this out and we can talk later.”

She turned and took one step when suddenly, the world turned, and she was looking at Keith’s…butt?

Pulling up she looked and realized, Keith had grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder! He was stalking through the hall and she felt the cold fall air. With his hand clamped firmly on her thigh, he kept walking.

Katie could hear the whispers and exclamations, “Dammit Keith, put me down!”

“No. We need to talk and I need you to listen.”

Katie’s head was starting to hurt because all her blood was rushing to her head. She swatted at Keith’s back and even pinched him. But he just kept going.

Suddenly, Katie was plopped down on a kitchen counter.

Looking up at Keith, she lost her train of thought.

Suddenly, Keith was on one knee. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “Katie, I’m sorry if I haven’t made my feelings known. I love you. More than I ever thought possible. You aren’t just my girlfriend. You’re more than my best friend, more than a teammate and partner. You’re” Keith cleared his throat, “my everything.”

Katie blinked, tears quickly forming in her eyes again. “But, you’ve been weird ever since our rainy day. You’ve seemed distant and I thought, maybe, things have run their course for you.”

Keith shook his head, “Babe, no! It’s just I had plans. I had a picnic, and photographer and food and I was going to propose then. But, then it rained and it all fell apart. So I talked to Lance and Hunk again. I mean, I asked them for more help and we were trying to come up with a better plan. But I’m sorry if you saw my disappointment as something else.”

He held out the ring, and Katie could see his hand was shaking. Shaking. He had the steady hands of a surgeon. He meant this. This wasn’t pity. When she looked into his eyes, she saw. Crying Katie slid into his arms, holding him tight.

“Yes.” Wrapped in Keith’s firm embrace, feeling his warmth, breathing in his scent, this is the only place she wants to be. Forever.

[angelasscribbles]

Unexpected Chapter 12: The Beginning

Series: Unexpected

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Maxwell x Riley x Liam x Hana

Rating: MA

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2,351

A/N: This is it, the final chapter. But there will likely be at least one follow-up because there's still so much to explore in this universe. I might even do a spin-off series at some point. We'll see. If anyone has requests/questions for this series, please send them.

My other stuff: Master List.

“I choose….. Lady Hana Lee!”

Surprised murmurs broke out through the crowd, followed swiftly by applause.

Riley watched happily from the audience as her girlfriend climbed the stage to get engaged to the new king. She ignored the whispers and sidelong glances of the rest of the court.

Everyone had expected it to be her. In the last week, she and Liam had done very little to hide their relationship. They had been spotted coming out of the hedge maze hand in hand earlier that very night, leaves in their hair, faces flushed.

She smiled as she slid her arm through Max’s. Her gaze darted around the ballroom until she found Bertrand. He looked like he’d been slapped as he stood with his glass of champagne, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, and face pale. She felt a ping of sharp satisfaction as she watched his face slowly go from white to red with indignation.

“Come.” She tugged on Max’s arm. “Let’s go congratulate the happy couple.”

When it was their turn in the receiving line, Riley hugged the new king and queen tightly, happily, kissing each one quickly on the lips, and delighting in the shocked gasps from onlookers.

Liam entwined his hand with Hana’s as they watched her walk away and whispered to his new partner in crime, “What are we going to do with her, my queen?”

Hana shivered slightly. “Unspeakable things, I hope.”

Hana had been heartbroken when Riley first told her about her relationship with Liam and Max. But when the object of her affection had proposed a unique solution that positioned her as queen and gave her full access to exploring a relationship with both the woman she loved and the man at her side, a man she liked, respected, and was attracted to, she had for once in her life chosen the path of the unknown, of adventure, of jumping off the cliff with blind faith that things would work out. She had jumped, and it was exhilarating. The public assumed her flushed face and sparkling eyes were because of Liam. Let them. That was according to plan.

Riley’s appointment as Duchess of Valtoria would be announced within the week.

Liam had been clear with all involved that he would not hide his relationship with Riley. Royal marriages were political and there was no reason to pretend otherwise. He had promised Hana that he would treat her with dignity and respect. He would not publicize their agreement, but he also refused to treat Riley as a dirty secret. They would be reasonably discreet, but if they were photographed together, there would be no denials. A simple no comment would be the only response.

The engagement tour was scheduled, the wedding day was chosen, and the honeymoon would be at an undisclosed location due to security concerns.

The undisclosed location would be Valtoria. The press would be sent on a wild goose chase to Aruba.

A full investigation had been opened into the sabotage scheme and Bertrand’s name had been removed from consideration for the vacant council seat.

Riley and Max made their way through the crowd, only to be intercepted by Bertrand. He was livid. “What just happened?”

Riley tightened her grip on Max’s arms as she smiled serenely. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, two days ago your things were moved from Ramsford and your room at the palace into the suite next to Liam’s! What changed since then?”

“Nothing.” She grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server.

“Then why aren’t you engaged?”

“Oh, I am.” Her smile turned malicious as she held her left hand up for inspection. An enormous pear-cut diamond surrounded by a cluster of smaller diamonds sparkled on her ring finger. “I’m going to be your sister-in-law. You should congratulate us.”

Bertrand’s face darkened. “I warned you what would happen if your little dalliance with my brother ruined our chances at the crown. I will disinherit him, and I will personally ensure that your visitor’s visa is revoked!”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Bertrand spun toward the voice. “Your Majesty! I was just—”

“I know what you were doing.” Liam’s face betrayed no hint of emotion as he reached his hand out toward Riley. She took it and stepped up to his side. “And while I can’t stop you from disinheriting your brother, I can promise you that Duchess Riley’s citizenship has been fast-tracked and cannot be revoked by anyone other than myself.”

Bertrand blanched. “Duchess Riley?”

“Oh, I meant to tell you!” Riley said with exaggerated sweetness. “Liam gave me Valtoria. So once Max and I are married, he’ll be a duke like you! He doesn’t need your money anymore and neither do I. Hm. Maybe I’ll talk to Liam about giving him that council seat you wanted.”

Bertrand paled even more as he tracked Liam’s face for some sign she was lying and found none.

Without removing his eyes from Bertrand, Liam handed the woman at his side back to Max. “Why don’t you take your fiancée to dance? I’ll be there shortly to cut in.”

Riley blew a kiss to Bertrand as she followed Max to the dance floor. “Ta!”

Liam fixed Bertrand with a steely glare. “I understand you’re disappointed that House Beaumont’s sponsee wasn’t chosen as queen, but the same can be said of every other noble house here tonight. Regardless of official titles, the duchess remains very dear to me. Slights to her will not be tolerated. Any offense against her is an offense against the crown as far as I am concerned. I hope that clarifies things for you.”

“I understand Your Majesty. I apologize. I mean no offense.”

Liam gave him a curt nod before striding out onto the dance floor.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked Max as she watched Liam approach.

“I will be. I just…need a word with my brother.”

“Good luck.”

Riley went from her fiancée’s arms to her lover. She grinned up at him. “Aren’t you worried that dancing with another woman thirty minutes after getting engaged will cause a scandal?”

He returned her grin. “Let it.”

“Oh, reckless! Are you a bad boy now?”

“Hardly!” He laughed. “You know there’s no way in hell I can give Max a council seat with his very questionable background, right?”

“Good Lord, no!” She tilted her head back and joined his laughter. “He would be terrible at it! I was just fucking with Bert.”

Liam pulled her closer to him with a chuckle. “I’ll bet he loves it when you call him that.”

“Why do you think I do it?”

While Liam twirled Riley around the dance floor, Max approached his brother with a storm raging in his eyes. “I can’t believe you want to disinherit me.”

“Oh, what difference does it make?” Bertrand scowled at him. “Valtoria is one of the wealthiest duchies in the country. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s not about the money!” Max cried in distress. “Don’t you want to be my brother anymore? Don’t you love me?”

“You think I don’t love you?” Bertrand spluttered. “Why else do you think I’ve bailed you out of your messes time after time?”

“I don’t know. To protect the family name, I assume.”

“That’s what you think of me?”

Max gave him a baleful look. “You knew Riley liked me and you didn’t tell me. You yell at me all the time. You care more about your reputation than my happiness.”

Bertrand straightened his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “One of us has to consider our reputation. Heaven knows it’s not you.”

Max scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ballroom floor as he considered that. “You know what? You’re right. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in the past, and you’ve always come along and cleaned up behind me.”

“What are you getting at?” Bertrand sneered.

Max’s trademark devil-may-care smile replaced the gloomy expression he’d started with. He clapped his brother on the back. “You’ve always been there for me before. I forgive you for trying to keep me and Riley apart.”

Bertrand gaped at him. “You forgive me?!”

“Yeah. I forgive you. All’s well that ends well, right?”

After all, he had ended up with the girl. He, Maxwell Beaumont, had gotten the girl. And not just any girl. The girl. The most perfect woman he’d ever met.

His competition had been a literal prince and somehow, inexplicably, that was his ring on her finger. He didn’t pretend to understand how it had all happened. He had just paid for the ring like she told him to.

Bertrand shook his head as his eyes tracked from Riley and Liam canoodling on the dance floor, back to the sappy grin on Maxwell’s face. “Are you stupid? You’re really going to marry her and just look the other way while she continues to fuck the king?”

Much to Bertrand’s astonishment, Max’s smile got even bigger. “Oh, I’m hoping to watch. Maybe even join.”

He’d do whatever, and whoever, she instructed him to. Her, Hana, Liam. He just wanted to be included.

“I…. that…. You know what? The two of you degenerates deserve each other!”

Max, who was also watching Liam and Riley on the dance floor, heaved a dreamy sigh. “I know. Thank you.”

Bertrand went to find his driver. Max was Riley’s problem now.

Riley stayed occupied most of the night between Liam, Max, and Hana, but the moment she was alone at the refreshment table, Madeleine swooped in on her. “How does it feel to be tossed over for your little bestie?”

Riley turned slowly to take in the other woman’s haughty expression. She repaid the jab with a shrug. “No one was tossed over, Mads. And if you’re asking how I feel about Hana being queen, the answer is great! She’ll be good at it. She’s smart, charming, and diplomatic.”

The blonde’s brows drew together in confusion. “It doesn’t bother you that he’s marrying someone else?”

“No.”

“No?”

Riley shook her head emphatically. “I never cared about being queen, Madeleine. Unlike you, my interest in Liam is personal, not political.”

“Yes. But he just got engaged to another woman!” Madeleine was becoming increasingly annoyed at her failure to get a rise out of the strumpet who had been the bane of her existence for the last three months.

Riley followed Madeleine’s eyes to where Liam was chatting with his parents, his arm wrapped around Hana. Her face brightened as she stepped closer to Madeleine and lowered her voice. “And what a woman she is, right?”

Madeleine blinked. “What?”

“Come on,” Riley smirked. “I’ve seen how you look at her.”

Madeleine’s face mottled as red blotches marred the milky whiteness of her complexion. “I have no idea what you’re babbling about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Riley stepped away with a smile. Turning her back, she plucked a strawberry from a serving platter. “You know, you sycophants all treat the crown like some sort of prize.”

“What else would it be?”

Riley lifted the fruit to her lips as she turned back to face the countess. “The crown, and all its obligations, have been nothing but an anchor around Liam’s neck. He’d be happier without it.”

“You’re so naïve.”

Riley slowly finished chewing as she eyed Madeleine up and down with a smirk. “Right. I’m the naïve one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

With a sparkle in her eye, Riley leaned in close and purred, “It means that I got every damn thing that I wanted and none of the crap that I didn’t. I started the summer as a waitress. I finished it with a duchy, my own money, Liam, Hana, and Max. What did you get, again?”

“I…”

“Exactly.” Riley turned and walked away while Madeleine was still trying to form a coherent response.

She made it four steps before Max was next to her. Together, they found Liam and Hana as the festivities wound down and the guests began to trail out of the ballroom.

Liam turned to the other three. “Shall we retire to the royal wing?”

“And do what?” Hana felt both apprehension and excitement punch her in the stomach.

“Not that,” Liam assured her. Then, with a wicked grin, “Unless you want to.”

Hana’s eyes widened and her breath hitched a little. “I…”

Liam grasped her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “We have our entire lives to get comfortable with each other. We can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

“Just for the record,” Max interrupted, “I am comfortable with whatever pace you like, Your Majesty.”

Liam gave him a questioning look.

Max flushed. “I know about you and Carson. I’m not wrong that you like boys too, am I?”

Curiosity and interest flickered through Liam’s eyes at the offer. With a quick glance at Riley, he told Max, “We’ll take that slow as well.”

If he had to marry someone other than Riley, he couldn’t have done better than Hana. The burgeoning relationship between the two women circumvented all the awkwardness and anxiety Riley had understandably had about his marriage to another woman. And Hana would make a good queen. He was confident of that.

Max’s offer was intriguing, and the idea of sex with Hana wasn’t exactly off-putting. But Riley was the one who had his heart. With four people in the mix, there were a lot of moving parts and he wanted to proceed at a pace that would ensure plenty of time for everyone to process things as they went and minimize fallout from any potential landmines they hadn’t foreseen.

With a lot of intentional relationship-building and a little luck, they could make this unconventional arrangement work. Not just work but thrive. He was sure of it.

As the four of them made their way toward the royal wing, Max grasped Riley’s hand. Riley placed her other hand in Liam’s, and he, in turn, took Hana’s. He gave his new queen a reassuring smile then turned his gaze to Riley and Max as he told them all, “This is only the beginning, loves.”

~Fin

[capn-rikshu]

"Boulder and Graham Have a Talk" (WIP)

Words: 469

This has been sitting in my docs for a long while, since last year I believe. It's definitely not finished but I did polish it up. I may consider extending/completing it based on feedback.

That is welcome.

The soft drape of her auburn hair over her shoulders and the small white clip that pinned her hair behind her ear, her snorty laugh whenever he made an unfunny, corny nerd joke—a joke only she would understand—her round glasses matching her cute round face, the simple feminine fashion choice of a knee length skirt and a cherry pink sweater. There was so much he could say about Amy and with no one to air them to besides he’s too embarrassed anyway. Though he does have Boulder.

“Graham? Graham?”

Graham blinked twice. “W-wha-?”

He looked up and found his big green robot partner staring at him with a coy grin.

“I was going to ask you for your thoughts on this blueprint but it looks like your mind is elsewhere.”

“Sorry, buddy, I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what? Amy?” Boulder guessed correctly.

“Yeah, her,” Graham rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes focused on a distant object.

“How’s it been going?”

“Steady, good, great. I think we can really make this work.”

“Ah, that’s nice.”

Graham never thought about it before but suddenly he had a question: do Cybertronians have relationships like humans do? Even though their bodies are not, their thoughts and feelings are very human and the relationships they form are as well. It wouldn’t be farfetched to assume. He also wondered if Cybertronians have the concept of marriage as well. Maybe he should just ask considering he’s talking to one right now.

“Hey, Boulder,” he began, “so do you guys, Cybertronians, y’know get together, form relationships?”

“Relationships?”

“Y’know, of the romantic kind specifically?” Graham smiled sheepishly.

“Hmm…” Boulder rubbed his chin and got himself comfortable by sitting down on the floor in front of him. He could tell this was going to be a long discussion. “Yeah, I say we do but it’s not ingrained in our society as you humans have. It’s not really a conversational topic, there’s no legally binding documents like how your society created with marriage."

“You guys don’t reproduce the way we do?”

“No, there’s no male or female, there’s no such thing as sex. Our planet creates us, Cybertronians are born from its hotspots.”

Graham ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, figures.” 

“It seems that you humans pair up together for the purpose of reproduction, Cybertronians don’t do that for reasons I've just explained to you. Instead a lot of us pair up for a closeness factor, we don’t have words like ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’ or ‘spouse’ to describe it, you could use ‘lovers’ but it’s not really a widespread term. You’d probably see us call each other friends no matter how close we look.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship before?”

“No, nothing you could say is romantic, it seems nice though.” Boulder smiles sweetly.

[heloflor]

Was thinking a bit about how “The Devil’s Playhouse” has a lot more comedy than people make it out to be, and while especially thinking about “The Penal Zone” I realized this episode is actually very very very very gay. Like, I’m pretty sure it’s the Telltale episode with the highest amount of gay moments (205 is second on this list, what with Sam getting catcalled by a moleman, Max flirting with Mr. Reaperphone, the whole bachelor party, Peppers etc).

I think what I really like about those moments is that it’s a great example of normalization. The characters are incredibly casual about it, talking about gay relationships the exact same way one would talk about straight relationships, it’s really neat to see! Especially considering that this game was made in 2010, a whooping 5 years before gay marriage was legal in the whole US. It's crazy and great how much they were able to get away with!

(Screenshots of all these moments with timestamps (and quotes) under the cut. To have as little pics as possible, only a small section of each dialogue is taken. And to have a limit of two screenshots per pic max, some dialogues that are cut in two parts in-game have the second part pasted under the first. The timestamps puts you at the beginning of each conversation. All footage from NapalmX717 with the screenshots in chronological order of this video)

Max: “What can I say, Sam? Alien ships love to abduct me. It’s not my fault I look so probe-able.” (9:44)

Sam: “Nice work, little buddy! Make sure you wait three days to call, or he’ll thing you’re desperate.” (11:47)

Max: “Well, he IS pretty charismatic, Sam. And he’s from space, which is a plus. But you’re the only hairy, overweight, domineering control freak I need, Sam.” (20:38)

Sam: “I don’t need to go to another planet for a methane rich environment, as long as I’ve got you, pal.”

Max: “That’s really sweet and obvious, Sam.” (22:46)

Skun-ka’pe: “Perfect! Just the one I wanted to see ha ha ha ha!”

Sam: “Keep the hands where we can see ‘em, pal.” (23:36)

Max: “We could just give ourselves tongue-baths, like cats and flight attendants do!” (30:57)

Sam: “Why do we have jumper cables? Neither of us knows how to use them.”

Max: “It’s simple, Sam: the RED cable goes on the RIGHT nipple, the BLACK cable clamps to the…” (34:42)

Max: “Oh boy! Now I can finally set up my 24-hours adults-only naked bunny chat line.” (34:58)

Sam: “Toys...Toys… we must prepare… the toys….”

Max: “Well, that’s just a typical Friday night for YOU, Sam.” (36:45)

Flint Paper: “Oh. Well yeah, that could be it. I was thinking it was you, Sam!”

Max: “You think you know a guy. I’m not angry, Sam, just very disappointed.” (1:03:49)

(For context they’re talking about who might be Girl Stinky’s secret admirer)

Max: “I can’t lie to Flint Paper, Sam!” (1:05:20)

Max: “What kind of pretend mother would I be if I didn’t worry about our imaginary baby?” (1:10:31)

Momma Bosco: “Oh, it’s not all bad. I’m getting better at apparating. And now I don’t leave a trail of ectoplasmic slime behind every time I leave the room.”

Max: “That’s better than Sam can say.” (1:23:13)

Sam: “I’m not gonna rest until I find the guy who killed my partner!” (1:43:13)

Max: “Wow. I feel really very close to you now, Agent Superball.” (1:45:33)

Sam: “I don’t like the thought of you teleporting off without me, Max.” (1:46:33)

Max: “Sam, this is all so sudden! I… I don’t know what to say!” (2:07:10)

Sam: “I think one of us should try to smash through that window with his rock-hard, melon-sized head.”

Max: “And I think one of us should try the door, unless he wants to spend the rest of the day picking plate glass out of his partner’s fluffy white nether regions.” (2:17:00)

Girl Stinky: “Sam and Max? Don’t tell me Skun-ka’pe wants YOU guys to be his love slaves, too?” (2:24:48)

Girl Stinky: “Eww. He wishes. He’s SO not my type. You only have to date an evil gorilla once to learn never to make THAT mistake again.”

Max: “We’ve all been there, girlfriend.” (2:25:07)

Girl Stinky: “Gee, it sounds like YOU two should go out with him. Would you like me to give you guys some privacy?” (2:27:33)

Max: “You’re my best friend, Sam! I know you’d take a bullet for me!” (2:31:02)

Sam: “You keep coming up with creepy disaster scenarios that always end with you eating me, Max. It’s getting annoying.”

Max: “If you don’t like it, then stop looking so damn tasty.” (2:38:11)

Max: “Think of something quick, Sam. I don’t like the way he’s undressing me with his eyes.” (2:53:22)

[connectionterminated13]

We haven’t talked in a bit soooooo

Any new Elizabeth headcanons that you want to share?

Yes it has been a while. And I do have a couple.

Inferno au-

Liz cannot do ballet to save her life. Like she's extraordinarily bad at that.

Elizabeth used to try to take her toys apart and put them back together again the way her dad does with robots because she hoped that maybe he'd pay more attention to her if she did so.

Every Friday her and Michael would have movie night! Mike would make a big bowl of popcorn and they watched like soap opera movies And adventure films.

Elizabeth used to bake cookies with her mom on Sundays, For church. They used to sing together while they worked it was a lot of fun

Elizabeth tried to "run away" after Susie disappeared to go and find her, William stopped her, Saying that Susie would be back in like a week and that her disappearance was nothing to worry about.

Elizabeth after you're the missing kid's incident Started sitting on the far side of Freddy's as far away from chica as she could get. She doesn't like the way Chika looks at her. It makes her want to cry for some reason.

Elizabeth would never admit it but she was a little bit scared of Evan when he was alive. There was just something different about him she used to actually make fun of him a little bit for being "slow" And stirring off into space. She'd even join Michael in spooking him occasionally.

One of her first thoughts win stealing Michael skin as Ennard Is now she could kiss women!! Since now she was Michael she was technically a man so she didn't Need that plausible deniability thing her dad told her about. She ended up kissing no women though because turns out Mike didn't have a girlfriend sad :(

She went through and was going through in emo phase as scrap baby. Like she's listening to My Chemical Romance on repeand being like "it's just like me for real for real"

As scrap baby she hidden in alley drink a pride parade once

Elizabeth liked to sing and run around her room really really fast when she was bored or grounded.

Elizabeth was going to go to visit her family on her mom's side, The year her mom got sick and later died.

Death swap-

Elizabeth and Susie are semi open with their status as a couple. Like they hold hands and hug outside but they rarely if ever kiss. It's hard being lesbians in the 1990s in Utah....

Elizabeth is a little bit scared of ghosts after getting her organs ripped out by one. Like she tries to be brave but FNAF one is fucking scary for her. Doesn't help that she doesn't like working and hates doing sitting in a chair nothing work more than she hates normal working.

Susie Wants to have kids when they're older like 30-40, Elizabeth kind of does too but She doesn't think she could be a good mom and also gay marriage wasn't legalized yet let alone gay adoption.

Even though Mike Scares her a little bit after the whole scoop thing she still accepts him as her brother and eventually charlie's partner once they get there. Even though it is hard for her to look at him without Illusion disks or human suit on.

Elizabeth cannot do taxes this nearly leads to her death more than once drank fnaf 6.

Lizzie is terrified of the idea that 1 day Suzie will die and she won't. Sure Elizabeth loves her brother and Charlie and their other friends but life without Susie doesn't feel right at least the way she imagines it.

Elizabeth is the professional cool aunt to Michael and charlie's son Gregory. He thinks she's awesome :)

Lizzie and Millie au-

Liz will never admit it but she prefers to spend time with Jen As opposed to her own Step mom.

Liz isolated herself from like having real friends for a long time since she feared that if anyone got too close she'd hurt them the way Her dad hurts Henry.

Elizabeth tries to reason with any horrible monster things her parents have made before like getting rid of them since she genuinely believes that at least most of them don't want to be horrible murder Creatures.

She thinks no one knows that she's a lesbian everybody does.

She knows how to fence! You see William and Abigail put Her and Evan in a lot of extracurricular activities because they didn't want either of them around.

She can and will sit through a horror movie with a completely blank face. She's just not scared easily. For the majority of her life she's been surrounded by glimpses of monsters so movie ones don't really freak her out.

She has a distinct disdain for Evan's friend Andrew because he's annoying and evan start springing him around the house like often just to annoy her .

Elizabeth envies Millie a lot since she comes from a relatively normal home and Can Express herself more

I imagine that Elizabeth and Millie au, Is like a mystery of the book kind of thing. Like you know it's formatted like a book series of maybe 10 books and each 1 there's 1 big overworking spooky monster that they need to fight/figure out the weakness of. (Not really a head cannon just wanted to add that in here)

[fandomworld9728]

Polyship Week - Blitzo/Stolas/Lucifer (Day 7):

"There we are. You look great, darling."

"You think so?"

"Yes. God, can I get out of this suit already?"

Lucifer couldn't believe this. It was their wedding day. When they had seen their two partners get married, they had been so happy for them. But Lucifer wondered if that would happen for them too, or if they would just stay dating. Which was fine! Thier relationship with Stolas and Blitzo made them happier than they had been in years.

When Adam and Alastor joined that relationship, Lucifer had been over the moon! More partners to love and that loved them. However, being married had been such a wonderful time in their life and now that they get to experience that again...

Well, they were nervous to say the least but also so excited! It had been arranged by Lucifer's father, but luckily, it was already someone that they loved very much. The rest of his partners and their daughters were so supportive and just as excited as Lucifer had been.

"Not until later Blitzy. Now, behave. We're here for Luci's wedding."

"How fun. Now our relationship has two married couples in it. What is it with you two and marriage? I only got married because it's what Stolas wanted. I think the whole thing is bullshit. We're together. That's all. People will know."

"Yeah. We know. But as someone who was in a former happy marriage for six years, it's just nice to have it all finalized. It makes it all feel so... whole and complete in a certain way."

"I agree. Though, my marriage to Stella was not very pleasant. I am so lucky to have found Blitzy. Oh! And you of course, Lucifer."

Chuckling, Lucifer fixed their hair in the mirror. They had gotten it cut for the wedding and slicked it back. It wasn't too bad of a look. Maybe they should keep it like this.

"I know Stolas. We can there are no favorites in a relationship but that isn't true. I know that you love me too, but nothing will come between that bond you two have."

There was a light knock on the door before it opened. "Are you ready dad? Everything is ready- oh my goodness you look amazing in your white suit!"

Smiling over at their daughter, Lucifer went and scooped her up in a hug. "Thank you, duckie. You look so good in your suit as well."

They couldn't believe how grown Charlie was now. Their precious little girl was a woman now. Hopefully, there would be another wedding for her and Vaggie. They had been together for ten years after all. 

"I should let you know that mom is here."

"Really? I didn't think she'd actually come when I sent out the invitation."

"Me either. She's here with her girlfriend. I feel like I've seen her before."

"That's because after we got divorced, she got together with Adam's ex-wife Eve. You've seen pictures of her. You remember his sons Cain, Abel, and Seth? Eve is their mother."

"Oh! Wow... what a twist."

"Alright. We can talk about this shit later. Let's get this show on the road."

~

"I never thought I would see the day. You're getting married."

Alastor couldn't believe it either. Yet he has grown to truly love Lucifer and when Satan had offered up Lucifer's hand in marriage he jumped at the chance. He had decided long ago that they were his mate, and this just confirmed it.

"I am quite the lucky man, aren't I? I was surprised by Lucifer wanting to incorrupt demonic traditions into our wedding."

"It's sweet. Though, I wish it were really blood in goblet and not wine."

"We do have to keep it a little tamer than a true Hellish Ceremony. There are humans in attendance. Not to mention so angelic beings. I am just thankful that I do not have to be in my human disguise the whole time."

"Dad!"

Running into the room with little warning, Niffty tried to climb him like she used to. Huffing when she couldn't find purchase, she gave up and stood in front of him. She looked absolutely stunning in her bridesmaid dress. While no longer a little girl she was still relatively short for her age. Not that she was bothered by it. She celebrated still being able to crawl through the vents.

"Yes, Niffty dear, what is it?"

"Charlie told me to tell you that everything is ready and that you should get to the alter."

"Is it that time already? I better get a move on and not keep my partner waiting."

{1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7}