#marriage proposals

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

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It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 22 - What's the bad news?

Suguru knows that today is going to go horribly wrong the moment Satoru steps out of his bedroom. He knows him well enough by now to recognise the energy rolling off of him, to interpret the precise slope his shoulders have settled in and Suguru lets out a wary breath.

“Satoru,” he warningly says, not even bothering to greet him and it seems that Satoru knows him just as well because he freezes, a look of complete surprise on his face.

“What? What could I have possibly done already? I just got up, there’s no need for you to use that tone with me,” he whines out and finally continues his way into the kitchen, slumping over the table as he spills himself into one of the chairs.

“Nothing yet,” Suguru admits, narrowing his eyes at him. “But you are about to do something that will have consequences for me,” he then says and Satoru blinks up at him.

“There could just be consequences in general,” Satoru offers and Suguru rolls his eyes.

“There could, but I know you better than that. If that were the case, if whatever you have planned had nothing to do with me, your expression would be different.”

“My expression,” Satoru flatly repeats and stares Suguru down, who can do nothing but shrug helplessly. 

He doesn’t know how to explain that without weirding Satoru out completely but there’s a difference between his look when Satoru is about to cause other people some grief and when he’s about to cause Suguru some grief. And today’s look is definitely the one that includes Suguru. It’s in the way his mouth tilts, or his eyes crease at the corners, maybe.

Suguru isn’t even too sure himself.

“Trust me,” Suguru gives back in lieu of a real explanation and immediately Satoru’s face softens.

“I always do,” he breathes out, dropping his head to the table and sighing. “It’s way too early.”

“Why are you up then?” Suguru asks and reaches out to push away some strands of hair that have fallen into Satoru’s face. “Go back to bed, you have today off, don’t you?”

“Can’t, I have shit to do,” Satoru mumbles out and Suguru can’t help but to briefly scratch at Satoru’s head as if he’s a particularly overgrown cat.

His hair would be soft enough for it, Suguru thinks and he allows himself a brief smile when Satoru pushes into the contact.

Moments like this always make Suguru wistful because he wonders if he could have this all the time if only he were brave enough to confess to Satoru but before Suguru can think too deeply about it, Satoru takes a deep breath.

“Alright, up we go,” he says as if he has to hype himself up and then he manages to raise his head off the table at least. “Coffee?” he asks, completely pathetic in Suguru’s eyes, and Suguru realizes once more just how gone he is on him because instead of laughing in his face and making him get his coffee himself, Suguru says “Sure” and gets up to prepare Satoru’s coffee just the way he likes it, meaning with more milk and sugar than actual coffee.

“Don’t know why you drink it like that, though, you could just dump three spoons of sugar in your milk,” he says as he puts the cup down in front of Satoru, who predictably makes a face at him.

“It’s about the taste, Suguru,” he tells him and immediately takes a big gulp from the concoction.

Thanks to all the milk in there it’s not even hot enough to warrant a warning and Suguru lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Mhm,” he noncommittally hums out and Satoru pouts at him, which is just unfair because– “I did make you your drink, stop looking at me like that.”

“True, you did,” Satoru happily says, taking another sip and looking so content that Suguru has to fight the urge to lean over and drop a kiss to his head.

Their friendship is a very touchy one, but it’s not quite like that and it would raise some questions from Satoru should Suguru simply do that now, so he holds himself back.

It might be the hardest thing he had to do all week, though, because Satoru is still sleepy and therefore softer than usual, his hair is a fluffy mess and he just looks so content that it’s really hard on Suguru’s poor heart.

Still, he manages somehow, because he reminds himself that he could lose Satoru forever if he ever confessed his feelings and that thought sobers him right up.

Best not to risk it, Suguru confirms for himself once more and simply sits back down next to Satoru, remembering the suspicious look he had worn mere minutes ago.

“Promise me that you’re not going to do anything stupid today,” Suguru says as Satoru closes his eyes again, clearly more than content to simply slip back into sleep right there at the kitchen table. 

“‘m not gonna do anything stupid today,” Satoru mumbles, just as Suguru reaches out to take the cup from his hands before it can slip through his fingers and make a mess on the kitchen table. 

“And I totally believe you,” Suguru sighs out, because there’s no way that one, Satoru is going to remember this promise, and two, actually keep to it.

It seems that all Suguru can do is brace for whatever insanity Satoru manages to bring to their home today.

~ * ~ * ~

Suguru is on guard the moment he hears the key in the door.

Satoru has been out for most of the day so far and Suguru was almost able to push the worry out of his mind, but now it’s slamming back into him full force.

And rightfully so, he despairingly thinks, when Satoru steps into the living-room, the most forced innocent look on his face Suguru has ever seen.

Suguru lets out a controlled breath, which immediately makes Satoru frown at him.

“No need to sigh at me!”

“We’ll see about that,” Suguru mutters. “Alright. What’s the bad news?” he then asks because he figures if he gets this over with they can deal with whatever it is that Satoru has done and then they can spend a nice evening together despite whatever shenanigans Satoru has been up to.

“There’s no–what–why do you even–” Satoru trails off there and Suguru sighs once more.

“Because,” he starts with and points at Satoru’s face, “you look like that.”

“Dashing and breathtakingly handsome?”

Suguru bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood, but that was the only way to stop himself from blurting out an immediate yes.

“Guilty,” is what he says out loud and Satoru’s face falls. 

“I didn’t even do anything,” he mutters but Suguru isn’t fooled.

“You did. You did something and its consequences are going to come back around to bite us in the butt eventually, so you might as well just spill now, so we can prepare.”

“It’s not–” Satoru groans and flops down on the couch. “It’s not like that,” he eventually mumbles. “I just did something stupid, but I will never speak of it and it can’t actually harm you. Or me. It’s just–stupid,” he finishes weakly, which doesn’t make him all that believable, if Suguru is being honest.

“Tell me anyway,” he says and Satoru shakes his head so hard his hair flies around. 

“Nope, never.”

“Satoru,” Suguru tries, a warning tone to his voice, but of course that doesn’t work either, because Satoru is immune to that tone. 

There is one thing he isn’t immune to, though.

“Satoru,” Suguru says again, softer and more quiet this time and he sees Satoru tense. “Won’t you tell me what you did?”

It’s almost cajoling and Suguru knows that Satoru has a hard time saying no to him when he uses that voice, so he tries to only bring it out on special occasions, like today.

“That is so fucking unfair,” Satoru mutters as he glares at Suguru who simply holds his gaze and doesn’t apologise. “You’re going to be so–”

Mad, Suguru finishes in his mind and he wonders what Satoru could have possibly done.

“—weirded out,” Satoru weakly goes on and now that is not at all what Suguru expected.

“Weirded out?” he asks for clarification because for all the crazy shit Satoru has done in the years of their friendship, Suguru has not once been weirded out by him or his antics.

“I just want to preface this by saying that this is entirely your fault and that our lease on this place is still running for a year, so you can’t just move out and please don’t hate me?” Satoru unsurely finishes and now that is what really worries Suguru.

He thought it’s pretty obvious that no matter what Satoru does he could never hate him, but clearly he didn’t get that across as well as he thought.

“I promise I won’t hate you,” Suguru solemnly says and he means it. Satoru could have killed a man just now and Suguru wouldn’t hate him.

He doesn’t understand what that has to do with the lease though, but he trusts Satoru to explain.

Satoru lets out a harsh breath before he buries his face in his hands.

“I went out to buy something today,” he admits, his voice muffled behind his hands and Suguru leans forward, to hear him better.

“What did you buy?” he patiently asks and gently reaches out to take Satoru’s hand away from his face.

It’s worrying, to feel him shake a bit and Suguru wishes Satoru would just tell him so they can figure out on where to go next.

“A–thing,” Satoru evades the answer and he groans when Suguru raises an eyebrow at him. “I hate it when you do that, it’s so sexy,” Suguru thinks he hears him mutter but that can’t be and the words are still muffled behind the remaining hand on his face anyway, so Suguru must have heard that wrong.

“What thing?” Suguru asks again and Satoru drops the other hand into his lap.

“Promise me, Suguru,” Satoru says, completely serious all of a sudden. “I–it was just a stupid thought and I should have never bought it, but you weren’t supposed to ever know and you can’t let it change things between us.”

“I promise, Satoru,” Suguru immediately gives back and he means it with every fibre of his being.

Satoru looks at him for a moment longer, his gaze searching but he seems to trust what Suguru said because he reaches into his pocket and produces a small black box from it.

It’s so very obviously a jewellery box that it takes Suguru’s breath away, the pain in his chest not surprising but the severity of it enough to make breathing hard.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” he mutters, aware that his voice is completely without inflection and his mind is running.

How could he have missed this? He and Satoru spend all their time together, how could he have missed a significant other that Satoru was serious enough about to want to marry?

“I’m not,” Satoru whispers. “That’s where the stupid part comes in.”

“Huh?”

“It’s for you,” Satoru rushes out and Suguru blinks. And then he blinks some more because nothing makes sense anymore.

As if to make matters worse Satoru pops the box open only to reveal the most beautiful engagement ring Suguru has ever seen. It’s exactly to his taste and it’s definitely too big for a woman.

“It’s for me,” Suguru repeats, because this cannot be.

It’s all his dreams come true, so it cannot be.

“Yeah.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Again, hence the stupid part,” Satoru says once more and he shuts the box again, which finally jolts Suguru out of his surprise.

“Yes,” he breathes out and it seems that catches Satoru off guard entirely.

“What? What do you mean yes?”

“Yes, I want to marry you,” Suguru breathlessly says, a tiny part of his brain screaming at him that they are doing all of this so very, very wrong, but he couldn’t care less.

Satoru wants to marry him. Satoru feels the same as he does, so of course there’s only one answer.

It seems now it’s Satoru’s time to blink confusedly at him because he does just that, even as Suguru takes the box out of his hands and opens it up again.

The ring really is unfairly beautiful and Suguru doesn’t doubt for a second that it will fit him perfectly. He proves it by sliding it on his finger almost immediately and Satoru makes a sound as if he’s dying.

“You can’t just do that!”

“Why not? I thought it’s for me?”

“Yeah, but–it’s not–we’re not–you don’t even like me like that!”

“I love you,” Suguru rushes out, almost stumbling over his words in his haste to get that out there. “I love you. You have no clue how much I love you.”

That seems to be a very effective way to shut Satoru up, because his mouth closes with an audible sound.

“I do love you,” Suguru says, much softer now, reaching out to take Satoru’s cheek in his hand, the one with the ring and it seems the cold metal on his skin jolts Satoru back into action.

“I love you, too,” he gets out, his eyes suspiciously misty and Suguru leans in close to press kisses to the corners of them.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” he teases and Satoru huffs before he apparently decides that it’s not worth it. 

“You’re not joking right?” Satoru still asks after a moment and Suguru rests their foreheads together.

“I’m not joking. I want to marry you. I love you.”

“So what you’re really saying is that I made the smartest decision of my life today,” Satoru says, a little smugly and Suguru laughs.

“You did indeed and I am sorry for ever doubting you,” he says and tilts his head just so, brushing their lips together. 

“As you should be,” Satoru replies, but he’s happily wriggling his way into Suguru’s lap, which Suguru encourages shamelessly. “Think we can get married this month?”

That’s really rushing it, but Suguru can’t see a fault with the suggestion. 

“We’ll make it work,” he decides and can’t wait to jump straight to married bliss with Satoru.

Going by the soft, contented breath Satoru lets out, he’s much on the same page and Suguru pulls him closer, feels Satoru practically melt against him and he knows that he’s never going to let this go ever again.

[verfound]

FIC: "Of Suitable Proposals" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 35: Rhythm

When he finally started to come to, Luka wasn’t sure where exactly he was, but the smell and the feel and the steady rhythm of the heartbeat playing strong beneath his ear sure felt a hell of a lot like home.  He felt like he’d been sleeping forever, which…he probably had been.

He never slept well on the road.  He slept enough, but he never felt as rested as he did in his own bed with Marinette sleeping beside him.

…he was really starting to hate touring.  He hated being away from her.  He hated the constant circus touring with Jay was.  He hated…

The bed…no, not the bed.  Marinette shifted beneath him, and he felt himself sinking into her with a sigh.  He didn’t hate this.  He loved this.

…he loved it more when his body didn’t feel like he’d been hit by a truck.

Everything ached, his limbs feeling heavy and sore in that way they did when you’d slept too much.  He was pretty sure…he vaguely recalled getting up…some time ago, because he’d had to pee.  He kind of sort of remembered staring at his reflecting in the mirror as he’d washed his hands, thinking he looked like shit before his eyes had dropped to his chest, where his own face had been staring back at him.  He couldn’t remember why he was wearing his own merch – there was some fuzzy idea about Crusher and curry and this was why he hadn’t asked Dingo to hit the road with him yet – but he was quickly ripping it over his head and tossing it towards the hamper they kept in the linen closet.

That was…it was…people like XY wore their own tour shirts.

At least the ones with their own faces on it.

(He had, both ironically and unironically, worn the shirt with “Luke Stone” stamped in fancy letters across his chest.  That one wasn’t as obnoxious, and sometimes helped in busy airports.)

He must have made it back to the bed, because he was pretty sure that’s where he was now.  In bed, with Marinette, where he was supposed to be.  He had no idea what time it was, though, or how much had passed.  He had thought it was light out when he’d gotten up earlier, but those were streetlights coming in through the open window.  And that was definitely Marinette under him, but he wasn’t sure how awake she was.  Her heartbeat was steady, her breathing even, but her fingers were lazily dragging through his hair.  Her other hand…was on his arm, absently stroking along his bicep.  He sighed and turned his face towards her, his nose squishing as it poked against her sternum.

“Are you finally waking up?” her soft voice came from above him.  He hummed and dropped a kiss between her breasts.  She giggled in response.  “Luka?”

“Not sure,” he sighed.  “Pretty comfy right here.  Don’t think I want to move yet.  How long…how long was I out?”

He yawned in the middle of it, and she hummed as she tugged gently on his hair.

“Over a day,” she said.  “Almost two.”

He pushed himself up at that, startled eyes staring back at her.

“…no,” he said.  She giggled and moved her hand from his arm, reaching for him, and there was something…he froze again as he saw Gina’s ring glinting in the low light from the window.  His eyes widened, a look of horror on his face.  “No…”

“You were exhausted,” she said.  “Penny said you’d had a rough couple of days.  You needed it, star.”

“Marinette, why are you…did you go through…my bag,” he groaned as bits of the last twenty-four (forty-eight?) hours started to come back to him.  He grabbed at her fingers, his brow furrowing as he stared at the gleaming pink opal shining up at him from a very specific finger.  He hadn’t…he hadn’t actually…and had she…he would remember proposing to her, wouldn’t he?

“Penny brought it by this morning,” she said, curling her fingers over his and smiling.  “Everything’s fine.  It actually was on the plane – just mislabeled.  It’s ok.  See?  Your bag was fine.  The ring was inside.  It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head.  “Darning, you…why are you wearing it?  You weren’t supposed to know.”

“You told me,” she said, as if it was obvious.  And maybe it was, because he kind of remembered her  being there while he freaked out over losing the ring in the first place?  “When they lost your bag, you told me what was in it.  It’s ok, Luka.”

“It’s not,” he insisted.  “Did…did I actually propose?”

She bit her lip, and he groaned as he dropped his face against her chest.

“No.  No, no, no, no, no…” he groaned.  “Please tell me I at least remembered the candles.  Rose said there had to be candles – she’s going to kill me if I forgot the candles.”

Marinette grew silent for a moment.  Long enough that he started to worry, but when he looked up at her she just looked…surprised.

“…oh,” she finally said, shaking her head.  “You…you mean you did have a plan?”

“Of course I had a plan,” he said.  He winced at her look.  “Well…parts of a plan.  I knew it had to be romantic.  Rose was helping – and Tom – so I’d do it right.  Big gesture kind of thing.”

“It really didn’t,” she said, touched but also slightly baffled.

“You love that stuff,” he insisted.

“I love you,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “The rest is just…details.  Filler.  Icing – not even that.  It’s sprinkles.”

“And you love sprinkles!” he said.  “Mari.  Please.  I know you.  Tell me I didn’t fuck this up.”

“You didn’t,” she insisted.  She looked back at the ring and bit her lip, a little frown creasing her brow.  “…I might have, though.”

“…what?” he asked.  She sighed and pulled him down towards her, and for a moment he was too lost in how good it felt to be home and kissing her to remember he was supposed to be freaking the hell out.

“Penny told me to give the stupid ring back.  Take it off before you woke up.  Penny’s always right,” she sighed, and at his frown she bit her lip.  “You…you didn’t actually ask, Luka, but you did let it slip, and that was as good as asking for me.  But you…actually, you were really adamant about the fact that you were not asking.  Not until you actually had the ring, at least.”

He…kind of remembered that?

“Because I was supposed to ask you right,” he huffed.  “Big, romantic gesture.  I was supposed to actually have the ring.  It was all supposed to mean something.”

“…well, that’s just stupid,” she said, shaking her head.  She tugged on his hair again, and he groaned as he pressed his forehead into her shoulder.  “Of course it means something – you’re asking me to marry you.  That very much means something, Luka, whether you have a ring or a big proposal planned or not.”

“I was working on that,” he sighed.  “Failing at that.  Nothing felt good enough.”

“Will it matter anything if I tell you I really don’t care how you ask as long you just do?” she sighed, bringing her hands up to cup his face.  Her thumb brushed beneath his eye, and he sighed as he leaned into her touch.  “Seriously.  Luka, I was never expecting a big proposal from you.  I…honestly, I always expected you to do it by accident.”

“…what?” he asked, chuckling slightly.  “Marinette.  Give me a little more credit than that.”

“No, seriously!  I was waiting for you to just…ask.  Spontaneously.  Because I said something dumb and you thought it was adorable, or you got into one of your artistic moods where you started comparing my heartbeat to Pachelbel or something –”

“I would never,” he laughed, but she just lifted an eyebrow at him because he had compared it to Beethoven.  Once.

(…and classic Jagged another time, but he had regretted that the second he’d said it and had never brought it up again because who wants to think about their dad when they’re…ahem.)

“My point, Luka, is you are not a planner, and this…this feels like us, doesn’t it?” she asked, tapping the finger with the ring against his face.  It felt heavier, though he knew that had to be in his head.  The ring wasn’t really that heavy – not enough to notice a difference.  Still, it felt…  “You losing the ring and accidentally telling me about it because you were too tired to think straight.  That…that’s so us, don’t you think?  More than some big, elaborate, ridiculous thing?”

“Rose would argue I’m cheating you out of romance,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I love Rose, I do, and you know I love romance, but…maybe conventional romance isn’t our romance?  What about us has ever been traditional, Luka?  You’re a Couffaine, for Pete’s sake,” she huffed.  He chuckled and kissed her.

“At the least you deserved a nice dinner,” he hummed.  “I know you love seeing me dress up.”

“I do at that,” she sighed, kissing him again.  “Almost as much as I love seeing you dress down.”

He chuckled, and she blinked as she leaned back.  He hummed, nipping at her lip to try to get her kissing him again, but she shook her head.

“No, that’s not…I mean undressing you.  After you’ve dressed up.  Or down.  Or…stop laughing, Luka, you know what I meant,” she huffed, but he was still chuckling as he tucked his face against her neck.  He pressed a kiss there before pulling away to grin at her.

“So maybe you give it back and let me take you to dinner tonight,” he suggested.  “Act all surprised when I get down on one knee.  I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to get down on one knee, at least.”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “With your knees?  You’ll never get back up.  Too many stage slides and superhero antics, remember?”

“Hey!” he laughed, bumping their noses together.  “My knees aren’t that bad yet!  I’m not that old!”

She laughed and kissed his cheek, as if apologizing for the slight, and he sighed as he turned his head and caught her lips again.  He felt like he had too much time to make up for, and he knew what they were talking about was important, but…

“My point, Luka, is that it doesn’t matter,” she said after a moment, tugging on his hair to keep him from distracting her again.  “Take me to dinner to celebrate the engagement, if you want, but I’m not taking it off.  I don’t want to.  It belongs there, as much as I belong with you.  I like wearing it.  I like being Marinette Couffaine.”

And oh, if that didn’t sound amazing…

“…it’s just an engagement ring, Marinette,” he said softly, all traces of humor gone from his voice.  He closed his hand over hers and brushed his thumb against the opal.  “I mean.  Technically it’s not, I don’t think, but Gina said you’d always loved this ring, and it felt…you do like it, right?  You’re not mad that it’s not very…traditional?”

She yanked his face towards hers, kissing him harshly.  Her fingertips pressed into his cheeks almost painfully.  He was a little dizzy when she finally let him go.

“You are not getting this ring back, Luka Llewellyn Couffaine,” she bit, her voice low and almost growling.  “It’s mine.  You are mine.  I love this ring, and I love you.  So just ask already so I can officially introduce myself as the future Mme. Couff–”

He pushed her back into the bed, his mouth back on hers and his hands grasping her own and pressing them into the pillows above them.  She started laughing, and that just made him want to kiss her more – until she squirmed and lifted her hips against him, and then he was reminded that she was there and his fiancée (technically) and he hadn’t seen her in three months…

“O…ok,” he panted, running his nose along the column of her neck as her hands moved along his sides.  “Marry me already.”

She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling almost as bright as the opal fire in her ring.  Maybe brighter.

…definitely brighter.

“Why, Luka Couffaine,” she said, smoothing his hair back and grinning up at him.  “I thought you’d never ask…”

[blood-and-pizza]

So I may have bought a pizza-themed engagement ring recently for non-FNAF related reasons, but now I'm thinking... it could definitely be FNAF-related if I made it so.

This is the ring in question:

Yes, that's Peppino Spaghetti in the background. I originally bought this ring because of him. But can you imagine any of the characters from FNAF proposing to you with this ring? Hell, imagine Glamrock Freddy proposing with this... the internet would go insane. And yes, that is a REAL engagement ring, by the way. I am that dedicated to the bit.

I could make this ring represent not just Peppino, but all my FNAF crushes, too. I'm tempted to do photo shoots with all my pizza-related crushes I have plushies of... just for fun, you know?

[drelizabethgreene]

Mark and Elizabeth had such a cute marriage proposal, even when it came later in the day after their fight at Mark’s apartment. Why couldn’t the writers have just given them the happiness they deserve? And 23 years later I’m still bitter that we didn’t see their wedding…

[cupidford]

The Marrying Type by Laurtew

John and Sherlock have been a couple for a while, but when John says that he can’t see marrying Sherlock and that what they have is great for now, Sherlock goes into panic-mode. He does his best to prove to John that Sherlock could be the perfect husband if given a chance.

Johnlock Love Letters #2323

[realitybitesyouknowit]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott Characters: Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini Additional Tags: Flufftober2021, Kissing in the Rain, Traditions, Marriage Proposal, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Romantic Fluff Series: Part 33 of Noxy's Flufftober 2021 Summary:

During a summer party at Malfoy Manor, Harry learns about an old tradition Blaise’s circle of friends started while they were kids. A tradition that might give him more than just a hint of the direction their relationship is heading.

Flufftober2021 Day 24: Caught in the rain

[gerec]

Do you have any fic recs where Erik proposes to Charles / or stories about how they get married? And on the angsty flip side, are there any fics you'd recommend where they get divorced?

Anon sorry for the long wait! It's been a busy week and there are LOT of great fics for Cherik proposal/wedding and divorce stories to go through! So many in fact that I'm splitting them into two posts...you'll find some of my favorite proposal/wedding stories below!!!

(There are SO many great proposal stories in this fandom I can't possibly list them all! It's definitely worth your while to plug in 'proposal' or 'wedding proposal' in the search field on Ao3 and go check them all out :D) Until then, enjoy:

A Summer Day So Late In Coming by helens78

Resources, Status, and Enjoyable Interactions by pocky_slash

If You Say the Word, I Could Stay with You by Black_Betty

Theraflu and You by ikeracity

all it takes is a little faith and a lot of heart by pocky_slash

Before You Attempt Me (Fair Warning) by kianspo

Five Times Erik Asked Charles to Marry Him by blkkskknhed

Golazo by ikeracity

On a Beach, With You (The Tel Aviv Remix) by niniblack

The Precipice by TurtleTotem

Ask and you shall receive. by letosatie

The Recklessness of Water by pocky_slash

Handfast by pearl_o 

fossils (the something old, something new remix) by pearl_o

Something Blue by smilebackwards (there's a prequel to read first; the sequel focuses on the wedding)

Conjugal Visits by ikeracity, Pangea

surely shifted my way by Traincat

My Big Fat Gay Robot Wedding by professor (part of a series!)

To Life by professor 

You Ought To Give Me Wedding Rings by fengirl88

How To Tie A Knot by pearl_o

L'chaim (The Forty Year Remix) by listerinezero

The Wedding Toast by Anon

[salvador-daley]

Salv! I am a day late, but I wanted to wish you a happy (belated) Valentine's day! You are amazing and talented and so fucking funny and I am so grateful for you. I hope you're doing well! 💖💖💖💖💖

A Valentine? Pour moi? Thank you so much, Mel, you beautiful person! You are so sweet and kind and deserve only good things. I hope you see a dog today. ❤️❤️

[gaily-daily]

My mother and her boyfriend are planning a spontaneous proposal together where he's gonna propose at a costume party and she's gonna act surprised so they can bask in the attention of the crowd.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: actor Steve??? Singer Eddie at the grammy's??? Eddie's band winning a Grammy & Eddie proposing to Steve accidentally in his speech???? & Steve crying and nodding yes but he is in tears & can't stand up??? Ok but then at the Oscars Steve actually proposes on stage because he had broken his leg & Eddie helped him on stage. But his proposal is the same as Eddie's because he also asks during his speech & Eddie cries and they get engaged again ❤️❤️❤️❤️

BABYYYYYY!!! NOT ONE, BUT TWO MARRIAGE PROPOSALS?! YES! PLEASE! I love the idea of Steve being prepared to propose to Eddie, has a whole plan, and then Eddie gets so emotional when he wins a Grammy that he does it before Steve gets a chance. Steve CANNOT be outdone, so obviously he does it too. We love love! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------

Somehow, against every odd, Eddie Munson made it.

Corroded Coffin, through hard work and a pinch of luck, were nominated for a Grammy.

They’d spent years climbing their way to the top (hard work) and finally got signed to a huge record deal when an agent saw them opening for a metal band at a festival (pinch of luck).

Their first album broke records in ways that hadn’t been seen since Metallica stepped onto the scene.

Their first tour sold out in minutes.

Their second album had a lot of hype to live up to, and according to the Grammy nomination, it far surpassed the expectations.

He hated that Steve couldn’t walk the carpet with him, but he was happy he was waiting inside with all the significant others of the band.

Probably already drinking wine and champagne. Maybe even shots.

Dammit, Eddie hated walking the carpet.

Steve was a fun drunk, but he was even more fun when he’d only had a couple. His filter shut off, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bitchy. He was silly.

Steve was rarely silly.

Fun, funny, happy.

But never really silly.

Not like Eddie was.

But after a couple drinks? Downright clownish.

Eddie tried to rush through the remaining interviews, and the guys could tell, throwing him shocked looks. Eddie loved the spotlight, so it probably was a little shocking.

When they got inside, they were stopped by just about everyone who lived on planet Earth.

Eddie was ready to grab Steve and run.

Fuck the Grammy.

But he couldn’t do that. This was a possibly once in a lifetime thing. Wayne was watching at home even though he “doesn’t have time to watch those stupid awards.”

If they did win, Eddie had to give a speech, they had to go to afterparties, he had to fuck Steve against the window in their hotel room.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of any of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

He walked into the main room, suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd and the vast expanse of tables and seating and stage area in front of him.

He caught a glimpse of Steve at a table not too far away, laughing at something Jeff’s wife, Amy, was saying. She’d almost skipped tonight, her pregnancy far enough along that getting all dressed up didn’t sound remotely appealing. But then she’d heard Steve was going, and she’d called her sister to alter her dress immediately.

Gareth’s fiancé, Sam, was sitting away from everyone, still not sure of her place in the group. They’d had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and Eddie would be more worried if Sam wasn’t completely head over heels in love with Gareth in high school first. But she’d only just met everyone a month ago, and this was the first public event she attended with everyone. She was visibly nervous.

Grant’s wife, Savannah, was clearly trying to make conversation with everyone.

And Eddie knew that Steve and Amy weren’t purposefully making it harder, but they certainly weren’t making things easy for her.

They were laughing so much, he couldn’t even be sure they were laughing at something.

He sidled up to Steve’s side, plopping down in the empty chair to his right.

“Eddie! Amy’s here!” Steve smacked his arm excitedly.

He was at least three wines in.

“I see that, sweetheart. Hi, Amy.”

“Hey, Eddie. He’s drinking for two,” Amy smiled fondly as Steve took another sip of wine.

“And she’s eating for two!” Steve said as he reached out to touch her belly. “I can’t believe I don’t get to have your babies, Eds.”

Eddie snorted. Amy let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can give it our best shot later tonight,” Eddie whispered in his ear, smirking to himself when he saw Steve shiver.

They all continued chatting, occasionally getting interrupted by guests: producers, musicians, agents, even some kids who were big fans.

When the show started, Steve was drifting. He’d had maybe one too many, and he’d reached the sleepy part of wine drunk a lot sooner than he should’ve. Maybe because he barely slept last night. Maybe because Eddie fucked him in the shower and the couch and the bed, and then woke him up early to fuck him on the counter before he had to leave for an interview with Good Morning America. He was tired.

Eddie was tired too, but he was used to a lot of late nights and early mornings over the last couple of years.

Plus, he was running on so much adrenaline at the thought of winning a Grammy, he was pretty sure he could stay awake for another 12 hours.

Steve’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder, his hand entangled in Eddie’s.

For seven years, Steve’s been his biggest fan, his person, his everything.

And for three years before that, he was his best friend.

He was there at grungy bars, outdoor festivals in rain or shine, that one fundraising event at the mall that was a total disaster. He was front row at their first opening gig for a Midwest metal band, and front row at their opening gig for Ghost. He was backstage for their first headlining tour, in the studio when they recorded their first and second albums, and on the tour bus when he could miss work.

It only made sense that he was here for this.

He wanted him here for everything.

This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, probably not even the hundredth. He’d wanted to marry Steve for years.

But Steve was focused on building his own career, and Eddie insisted that he do what he wanted to do no matter what Eddie did with his career.

It meant a lot of time apart, a lot of FaceTiming at weird hours of the day or night because it’s the only time their schedules would sync up, a lot of missing each other.

But they believed in their relationship the same way they believed in each other, and they kept making it work.

He had a ring. He bought it years ago. Wayne had it so Steve wouldn’t find it, but they’d already planned on him taking it with him on his next stop in Hawkins.

He let himself relax a bit. Had a glass of wine, then champagne, and a beer. Their category was almost the last of the night, so they were able to relax for a while.

Steve knew a lot of people in the industry because of his acting career, but he’d made it very clear tonight was about Eddie to anyone who tried to talk to him.

The night was long, longer than Eddie could really handle.

His nerves were through the roof and Steve had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

When their category was announced, Eddie nudged him awake gently.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m either about to be a Grammy winner or get a lot of great sympathy sex from you,” Eddie whispered in his ear as a camera guy settled in front of their table to get their reactions.

Steve was suddenly wide awake, the realization that this could be one of the biggest moments of their lives making him grip Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.

“And the winner for Best Metal Album is…” the announcer paused for dramatic effect. “Corroded Coffin with Reanimate!”

The whole room was cheering, but their table was going wild.

Steve jumped up the moment they said Corroded Coffin, jumping up and down and pulling Eddie up on his feet.

The next minute was a blur as they made their way to the stage, his boys surrounding him and clapping each other on the back excitedly.

They’d all worked hard for this, dealt with endless bullying in high school because their music was different, fought through the struggle of trying to appease bar owners and small town festival organizers with “softer” music so they could get in front of the right people. They spent thousands of dollars they realistically didn’t have to travel to places where metal was more welcome.

They had to take out personal loans to get studio time to record a demo and send it in to every record company they could think of.

Steve gave them 25% of his inheritance to buy their first tour bus because “it’s a good investment, and it’ll save money on hotels and eating out.”

When they got to the stage, Eddie realized that he’d have to speak.

Shit.

He’d kind of prepared a speech, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up too much so he’d just let it go.

“Uh, wow. Okay. Thank you guys so much!” He started. He could just barely see the faces of everyone at their table, but Steve’s beaming smile was enough. “I didn’t prepare much other than that because I just didn’t think we would win. I know we’re talented and we work hard, but this is the biggest award you can win in the music industry and we still have a long way to go to really feel like we can even be in the same room as most of these talented musicians.”

He was killing it!

“I need to thank these guys up here with me, all the guys who work with us in the studio, everyone who makes tour possible, my Uncle Wayne, who probably is crying but won’t admit it when I talk to him later.” Everyone laughed. “But I have to thank Steve more than anything. I think the guys would agree he’s been the guy there for us through everything. He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s our first and biggest fan. Sorry to all the wives and future wife at our table.” More laughter. “I don’t know where we’d be without him, but I really don’t think I’d be who I am if not for the way he loves me, the way he’s always loved me. Even when it’s hard, even when we go months without being able to see each other, we find ways to make us work. We keep doing the damn thing even when the damn thing is hard. I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and Wayne is gonna kill me, but Stevie, sweetheart, I can’t go another day without knowing. Will you marry me?”

The room erupted into cheers, the guys on stage jumping up and down. He saw the camera guy zooming in on Steve’s reaction as they broadcast it on a screen by the stage.

But Eddie didn’t need the screen. He could see the tears streaming down Steve’s face as he cried, his smile bigger than life as he nodded.

“He said yes!” Jeff yelled.

The crowd cheered louder as Eddie handed the Grammy award to Gareth and ran down the stairs back to his table.

Steve jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Eddie’s hands immediately went to his thighs to support him, and Steve’s hands cupped his face.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve sobbed out.

“I can’t believe I haven’t done it earlier,” Eddie responded.

They kissed in front of the hundreds of people here and the possibly millions watching at home.

It was one of the best kisses they’d ever shared. The room around them went quiet, at least to them, as their lips moved against each other passionately, but with a gentleness they rarely had with each other anymore.

They pulled apart after a few more seconds, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.

Eddie gently let Steve down, using his thumbs to wipe away some of his tears and giving him a beaming smile.

“Wayne’s got the ring. I have a feeling he’ll be making us come for a visit very soon so I’ll put it on you then,” Eddie whispered.

The rest of the band had trickled back to the table to collect him for post-win interviews backstage, but he couldn’t go without one more kiss.

Steve gave it willingly, always giving love in whatever way he could.

“Okay, I gotta go answer some questions. We’ll be quick,” he said with one more kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Love you. So proud of you,” Steve said as he pulled away.

“Love you so much!”

—---------------------------------------

Steve’s engagement ring glistened in the spotlight hitting their table at the Oscars.

The Oscars.

Steve Harrington, almost Munson, was sitting at the Oscars because he was nominated for two awards: Best Actor in a Drama and Best Actor in a Comedy.

Eddie was sitting next to him, somehow more nervous here than he was at the Grammys.

His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing up and down since they sat down 20 minutes ago. The other people at the table were luckily good friends and didn’t think anything of his anxiety.

Eddie never got nervous before shows, or interviews, or photoshoots, or even his award shows. But when it came to Steve, he was a nervous wreck.

Before auditions, before appearances, before red carpets. He was on edge whether he was with him or not.

Tonight was no different.

They’d had incredibly busy schedules after the Grammys, only seeing each once over the last three months. But Eddie had told his manager nearly six months ago that he would not miss this for any reason, that Steve supported him at all of his big events, and he wasn’t going to ask permission to support his fiance, he just was.

Except it turned into more of Steve supporting him as the night wore on, the realization that Steve could very well win both categories keeping Eddie strung out.

It was actually a little cute.

The comedy category was first, and he had tough competition. Anytime you’re going against people like Jonah Hill and the people at Disney you have to be ready to lose.

And he did lose. Well, Eddie kept saying “it’s not a loss, it’s just not a win”, which was really the same thing.

But Steve wasn’t as upset as he expected to be. Comedy wasn’t really his forte, he’d only done a handful of comedy movies and shows over the last few years, and none of them were major roles.

It was the drama he cared about.

He’d put his heart and soul into this film. It was regarded as the breakthrough queer film of the year, up for enough awards tonight to be considered an Oscar Sweep.

He never would have gotten here if not for the man next to him, so he could handle his nerves easily.

“Drama is next,” Eddie breathed out, his hand squeezing Steve’s knee.

“I know, baby.”

“What if you win? Oh my god, what if you don’t? No, no. You’ll win. This is your best work. Seriously, don’t know why I would ever think you wouldn’t.”

Steve smirked as the announcer started saying all the nominees’ names.

The camera focused on him was probably capturing a lot of Eddie’s mumbling under his breath, but luckily they weren’t mic’d up so it would be easy to explain away.

“The winner for Best Actor in a Drama…Steve Harrington!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Steve I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel them. Or my arms. I think I might black out, oh my god,” Eddie immediately turned to him with tears in his eyes.

“Baby, I need you to help me on stage. My leg’s broken, remember?”

And that was a pain in the ass. His last role required some stunts and Steve was an idiot and insisted on trying one for himself. It didn’t go well and he’s lucky it was just a broken leg.

Steve kissed Eddie’s lips softly, quickly, to get him to focus.

“Right! Okay,” Eddie stood up and held his arm out for Steve, who was using a single crutch to get around this evening instead of two. “Off we go!”

Steve giggled, and nodded at people clapping as they passed them on their way to the stage. Eddie was so busy looking ahead, trying to get him to the final destination safely, he missed the announcer making a joke about Steve earning the drama award by breaking his leg.

When they got on stage, Steve stood at the mic while Eddie stood at the side of the stage. He was crying, much like Steve had when he got his Grammy award.

“Sorry for taking my sweet time. As you can see, I thought I was able to do what stunt actors do and forgot that they’re actually very in shape and talented.” The room laughed. “Hey, no laughing, I didn’t win in comedy.” More laughter, louder this time. “I have to thank everyone who worked on this film; It’s truly one of those films that will continue to change lives. It was the most difficult job I have ever had, and I am so grateful for everyone who gave me the chance to prove that I could do it. I’d like to thank all my kiddos, who aren’t kiddos anymore, for all yelling at me in the group chat when I almost turned this down because I didn’t think I could do it. My agent, who goes through a lot of amazing opportunities but always manages to find the perfect one.” Steve looked over at Eddie and let himself finally tear up a little. “And Eddie. Can’t forget that guy. My support, literally.” He saw Eddie snort out a laugh between his tears. “Would not be standing here without him and not just because he had to walk me up here. Every time I thought about giving up, he made me go to one more audition or read one more script. Every time I’ve not gotten an offer I really wanted, he’s been there to remind me that there’s something better coming along. Like this one. I’d been turned down for a show I really wanted the same day I sent in the audition tapes for this role. I cried for hours on the phone with Eddie and he told me, I’ll never forget his exact words, ‘You’re meant for better and better will find you.’ And it did. But the best is you, baby. You’re the better that is at the beginning and end of all my days. I could never work again and I’d still be the happiest guy in the world because you’re mine and you want me just as much as I want you. Eight years ago, I was closeted, telling myself that the way I felt when my best friend hugged me was just because he was my best friend. Now, I’m winning an Oscar for playing a queer man in a deeply moving film about finding love for yourself even when love from others isn’t an option. I’m marrying you, that best friend who probably knew exactly what he was doing when he hugged me. And I know I’m wearing your engagement ring, and we’ve already set a date and picked the cake, but I feel like I should ask. Eddie, you’re the only one who gets me at my best, and you also get me at my worst and still love me anyway. Will you marry me?”

He watched as Eddie’s brain ran through a million options at once, finally settling on joining him at the microphone.

He pulled him against his chest, hand against the back of his head.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes. Fuck, yes,” Eddie sobbed out.

The crowd was cheering, and the cameras were circling around the stage getting every angle of the moment that they could.

“Next time you’re on this stage accepting an award, you’ll be Steve Munson,” Eddie teased.

“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Steve said against his shoulder.

They pulled apart enough to kiss, much like they did at the Grammys: soft, passionate, but slow.

“Do you have a secret ring hiding at Wayne’s too?”

“No, no ring. Just wanted to show the world I love you as much as you love me.”

“Oh, so it’s to show off. Got it,” Eddie poked him in the side, smirking when he laughed. “Get your trophy before they kick us off the stage.”

Steve grabbed his award, waved to the crowd with one final thank you, and let Eddie help him off the stage.

They were getting married in three months, honeymooning in four. They’d just bought their first house together, spent the last seven years renting apartments wherever life took them. They started talking about taking a break after Corroded Coffin’s next tour and Steve’s next movie so they could start a family.

They had so much to look forward to.

But most importantly, they had the backseat of a limo entirely to themselves on the way back to the hotel.

If they left a $500 tip for cleaning after, it was their business.

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 4 - Does that hurt?

Suguru meticulously counts out the money he owes for his coffee. It’s not as if there’s much more in his purse anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. He knows he shouldn’t even spend this money on the coffee in the first place, but one treat every other week is not going to make that much of a difference and Suguru only ever splurges like this when he managed to get a good deal at the grocery store.

“Thank you,” he politely says when he gets his coffee and he’s already salivating a bit because he has been looking forward to this for almost the entire day.

He turns around, his cup safely in his hand and then it all goes to shit when he collides with a brick wall and his coffee goes flying.

“Fuck,” a voice says as Suguru mournfully stares at his coffee which is now spilled on the floor.

So much for that, then, he bitterly thinks before he pulls himself together and turns his attention towards the person he ran into.

At least half of the coffee is now in that guy’s shirt and Suguru’s stomach drops.

He cannot afford to get that to the cleaners.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushes out, hands uselessly fluttering in front of him because it’s not as if he can magically get the coffee out of the shirt. “Fuck, I’m sorry, are you hurt?”

The coffee had just been made for him, so it’s bound to be hot and compensation is something Suguru can absolutely not pay this guy.

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” the guy says and Suguru finally forces himself to tear his eyes away from his ruined shirt to look at him.

The gaze he meets leaves him stunned because those are the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so well. Do you need to sit down?” the guy asks him, concern clear as day on his face and Suguru mutely shakes his head even though he feels sick to his stomach with nerves.

“I’m just—I’m really sorry,” Suguru repeats again and the guy snorts, clearly amused, which is leagues better than angry, like Suguru had feared.

“Yeah, you said. But in all honesty, I should say sorry, because I was the one who snuck up on you. I really should have left some space.”

“No, that’s—” Suguru cuts himself off, because he should really take this out in stead of arguing for his own fault.

Like this the guy is less likely to ask Suguru for any kind of money.

“Hey listen,” he now starts and there it is again, the dread that makes Suguru’s stomach drop out. “Since this is my fault and all, how about I invite you for another coffee?”

“Huh?” Suguru gives back, thinking that he must have heard that wrong.

“I’m Satoru,” the guy introduces himself with a grin, “and I’d like to invite you to a coffee.”

“Uhm,” Suguru stammers out, blinking rapidly because this is not at all going how he expected it to go. “Suguru,” he finally manages, acutely aware of how familiar it is, of how inappropriate it is, but then again, he did just spill coffee all over this guy and is apparently being treated to a new one, so he best play along.

“Great, Suguru, tell that nice lady what your order is and that you’ll be taking it here,” Satoru says, turning Suguru around, back to the counter where the girl who just made his coffee is watching the scene unfold, mop at the ready.

“I remember,” the girl tells them and hands the mop over to her co-worker, who immediately rushes around the counter.

“I’m really terribly sorry,” Suguru can’t help but to say again, because he also caused these people more work but Satoru clicks his tongue.

“It’s my fault, why do you keep apologising. I am sorry,” he says to the guy, who waves them both off with a smile.

“It happens, no worries,” he reassures them just as the girl puts down Suguru’s order, together with what must be Satoru’s.

Satoru hands the money over without a care in the world and Suguru bitterly presses his lips together. How nice it must be to not care about every cent he spends, he thinks and then forcefully pushes that thought away.

It’s not Satoru’s fault that their situations are different and Suguru has absolutely no right to take it out on him, especially not after Satoru is being so nice to him.

“Thank you,” he says to Satoru as he picks up his coffee and dutifully follows him over to a booth.

“I really should be thanking you,” Satoru says with a cheeky little grin and now that Suguru is no longer paralysed by fear he notices for the first time how hot Satoru is.

He’s tall and handsome and his white hair and blue eyes are striking enough to turn anyone’s head.

“What for?” Suguru gives back, sitting down opposite of Satoru. “I spilled coffee all over you, that’s hardly something you should thank me for.”

“But it gave me an excuse to talk to you,” Satoru says with a shrug. “I was about to talk to you anyway, but like this I at least get to invite you for a coffee. Gives me more time to charm you.”

“To—charm me,” Suguru repeats because what the hell.

“Yep,” Satoru cheerily says right before he takes a big sip from his coffee and it gives Suguru just enough time to at least try and gather his thoughts.

“Is this like—you wanted to ask me out?”

“Sure did,” Satoru easily replies and Suguru can do nothing but blink.

“You don’t even know me.”

“That’s what dates are for, right?”

“But why would you—”

“I think you’re the single most gorgeous guy I have ever seen, so why not?” Satoru interrupts him, leaving Suguru completely speechless and it’s only when the silence drags on that Satoru seems to become bashful. “I mean, no harm done if you’re offended or would rather leave. The coffee is paid for, if you don’t want to you don’t have to stick around,” he says, scratching at the back of his head.

“No!” Suguru rushes out, making Satoru smile. “I’m just—not used to this,” he admits because it’s been a long time since anyone has shown interest in him.

Longer even since anyone stuck around after finding out just how poor Suguru and his family are.

“I can’t really return the favour though,” Suguru weakly says, which only seems to brighten Satoru up more.

“Oh, already thinking about a second date? Lucky me,” he replies which makes Suguru blush faintly. “And hey, no worries, if you do want to do this again with me, I’m happy to invite you. Don’t even worry about that.”

Suguru is definitely going to worry about that, but in all honesty, he’s kind of getting ahead of himself. He doesn’t know if he likes Satoru yet, doesn’t know if they click like that and to already be thinking about another meeting—it’s awfully forward of him, so he pushes those thoughts away for now.

“Well, let’s just see how this one goes, alright?” Suguru offers and Satoru nods with so much enthusiasm that Suguru fears for a moment he’s going to dislocate something.

It turns out spending time with Satoru is easy and comfortable and good in a way Suguru isn’t used to so when Satoru proposes to exchange numbers Suguru is quick to agree, just like he’s quick to agree to meeting again at the same time next week.

He already knows that it’s going to be a highlight for him.

~*~*~

They keep meeting. At first it’s once a week, a set date, but soon it devolves into shooting each other a quick message if one of them is free to see if the other has time to meet as well. Suguru doesn’t always order something and he also doesn’t let Satoru pay for him all the time, but as long as one of them has something to drink they are not being kicked out at least.

Suguru knows that Satoru is curious, can see it in the glances he shoots him every now and then but so far he hasn’t asked and Suguru is thankful for it.

Their conversations tend to bounce around topics, from stupidly silly stuff to the more serious things, but somehow Suguru doesn’t feel comfortable telling Satoru about his situation yet.

It’s on a day when Suguru decides not to buy something that Satoru speaks up.

“Listen, Suguru,” Satoru starts with, and immediately Suguru tenses.

Of course this thing was too nice to last for long, he thinks and almost misses what Satoru says next, already so consumed by his heartbreak.

“I know that there are some things you don’t like to talk about,” Satoru says and reaches across the table, taking Suguru’s hand in his and Suguru clings to that point of contact.

That’s not something someone would do who is about to tell him to get lost and never come back, right?

“The same goes for me, but. I just want you to know that you can talk to me. When you’re ready. About anything. Just—putting that out there,” Satoru finishes with a weak smile and Suguru takes in a deep breath.

“I know,” he gives back, because he does and he wanted to tell Satoru so often already, but something is always holding him back and it has little to do with Satoru.

He’s ashamed, if Suguru is honest, even though it’ not his or his family’s fault but he still can’t shake that feeling. It doesn’t help that everything about Satoru screams money and the careless way he waves his credit card around, clearly not caring one bit for any money he spends only adds to the uneasy feeling in Suguru’s gut.

Satoru wouldn’t be the first person to leave him behind once he learns just how poor Suguru is, and while the others had sucked as well, this would hurt Suguru in a way none of the previous ones could.

For that he simply likes Satoru too much already and Suguru is certain it would take him a long time to pick himself up again should Satoru judge him in that way.

“I will, eventually, I think” he adds when Satoru continues to look at him and Suguru squeezes his hand. “It’s just—not easy.”

“I get that,” Satoru lightly says. “Like I said, there are things I haven’t said either, because it is hard, I just wanted you to know.”

“Well, the same goes for you, alright?” Suguru replies, because he needs Satoru to know that he can also tell him anything and Satoru smiles at him.

“I know,” he repeats Suguru’s own words, “but not yet.”

“Not yet,” Suguru agrees and relief floods his body.

He should have known that things would be this easy with Satoru, because everything with him has been easy.

And he will tell him, eventually. He just needs to gather a little bit more courage first.

~*~*~

Suguru feels like shit. Things have taken a turn for the worse, yet again, and his hands shake with the knowledge of what he has to do.

Satoru is already waiting for him, happily waving when he spots him and he points across from him where a coffee is already waiting for Suguru.

It makes him feel like crying.

Satoru never asks for him to pay him back, even though Satoru pays for both of them more often than not, and Suguru knows that he’s probably never going to ask but still.

It doesn’t sit right with him and with what happened at the beginning of the week he’s not sure he can take this kindness any longer.

“Satoru,” Suguru says as he sits down, pushing his coffee away from him and immediately Satoru’s face falls.

“Suguru,” he greets him in return but his shoulders are tense.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Suguru admits, scrubbing a hand over his face as he comes right out with it.

“Doing what?”

“Meeting with you, here. I don’t have the time and—I don’t have the money,” he admits, dropping his gaze to his hands so of course he sees it when Satoru hesitantly reaches out for him.

“What happened?” he asks when Suguru doesn’t pull his hands away and Satoru is quick to tangle their fingers together.

“Only bad things, like always,” Suguru bitterly says. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Satoru asks and Suguru heaves out a sigh.

If this is the last time he gets to see Satoru he might as well come clean about it, too. It’s not as if it’s going to matter if Satoru judges him for it afterwards, because they won’t see each other again.

“My mom’s back in the hospital and my dad’s old company cut the compensation money they are supposed to still pay him.”

“Is your mom okay?” Satoru asks and Suguru shrugs.

“No clue. They are doing tests again but at this point it’s all chronic anyway so I doubt they’ll find something new. The bills though, they will be brand-new and shiny and I won’t be able to pay them.”

“You said your dad’s old company skimped out on paying him?”

“The Gojo Group, yeah,” Suguru sighs out and notes how Satoru jerks at that. “They fuck you over, too?”

The Gojo Group is the biggest company in the area, so there’s really not much choice but to work there, especially with how many different branches they cover, but they are ruining more lives than Suguru cares to think about and it’s not as if the company or anyone else really cares about the lives of the employees.

Almost everyone in Suguru’s neighbourhood got fucked over by them and they show no signs of stopping any time soon.

“You can say that,” Satoru says, not meeting Suguru’s eyes and Suguru decides to drop it.

He can hardly fault Satoru for not wanting to talk about this.

“Well, my father got injured on the job, which should entitle him to life-long compensation, but of course they somehow found a loophole or whatever, so they are no longer paying him. Mom’s issues are from her work there as well, she was exposed to some kind of chemical there for too long and now it fucked her all up so—” Suguru trails off. “I’m the only one who really works anymore and with two sisters in college it’s not easy. I had to pick up some more work, to cover the essentials and even that is hard,” he admits and watches how Satoru works his jaw before he reaches into his pocket.

“I want you to call him,” he says as he slides a card over the table.

Suguru takes it, reads ‘Kento Nanami, lawyer’ and puts it right back.

“Did you not listen to me, Satoru? I don’t even have the money to buy myself a goddamn coffee, how do you think I’m going to pay for him?”

“He’s building a case against the Gojo Group. He’ll be thankful for everyone who comes forward and speaks to him and if you tell him I sent you, he’ll represent you for free.”

“You know him.”

“Have known him for a long time. I promise, he won’t charge you. If he doesn’t believe you, tell him to call me. He’ll get you your money, he’s the best.”

Suguru hesitantly picks up the card again.

“Are you sure? If he’s going to charge me for anything—” he trails off, because in the grand scheme of things what is one more bill he’s unable to pay, but it still doesn’t sit right with him.

“He won’t, I promise. And if he tries to, tell him to sent it to me. But he won’t.” Satoru seems completely certain about it and Suguru dares to believe him.

Even if this Kento loses whatever case he’s building, then at least Suguru can say he tried something. That has to count for something, too, right?

“Thank you,” Suguru softy says and slides the card into his pocket. “I will, then.”

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mutters, and takes his hand back, sliding both of them under the table.

It leaves Suguru feeling strangely cold.

“You still don’t want to meet again, right?” Satoru asks him and Suguru presses his lips together.

“It has nothing to do with want, Satoru,” he gently corrects him, giving him a sad smile. “I just can’t afford to. I don’t have the time or the means.”

“You know I don’t care about the money thing, right? I would happily pay for everything, if you’d let me. It doesn’t matter to me and I really don’t care.”

“I know,” Suguru whispers.

“But it doesn’t change anything,” Satoru quietly says and Suguru shrugs helplessly.

“You probably have no idea how it feels but it’s not good, Satoru. Knowing that even this coffee is breaking this week’s budget and knowing that it doesn’t even register for you. It might be misplaced pride or whatever but—I can’t stop thinking about it every time we meet. I don’t want it to be like that. And I truly no longer will have the time starting next week. I can’t juggle three shifts and a social life, let alone dating. It’s just not possible.”

“I see,” Satoru mutters as he nods. “I get it. I just—I really hate it. It sucks,” he then rushes out and Suguru laughs bitterly.

“That it fucking does. I like you, Satoru, I really do, and this sucks so much.”

“You—hate the Gojo Group, right?” Satoru asks after a moment and Suguru almost sprains his neck he nods so hard.

“Fuck, I hate them so much. They screw so many people over and don’t give a flying fuck. Everyone in that family and in executive positions in that company is rotten to the core and I would be happy to see them all drop dead, if I’m being honest,” he hisses out and while that wouldn’t solve any of his problems, it would bring him a lot of satisfaction, that’s for sure.

“Alright,” Satoru says, as if that just decided something for him and he taps the table again. “Call Nanami. And if after the trial you’d—I would just like to hear from you again,” Satoru finishes weakly and Suguru frowns at him.

“Okay,” he carefully says because he doesn’t know what’s going on with Satoru right now but in all honesty, there’s too much going on with himself for him to try and figure out someone else’s shit.

“Goodbye then, Suguru,” Satoru says and before Suguru can find his voice, Satoru has already left, coffee untouched and forgotten on the table.

It hurts Suguru’s heart to see him go, even if he was the one to decide this and it just confirms his believe that this is a week straight out of hell.

He just hopes that from now on things won’t get any worse.

~*~*~

“I’m supposed to tell you that Satoru sent me,” Suguru starts with as soon as Kento Nanami steps into the room and immediately Kento tenses.

“Of course he did,” Kento says with a sigh and sits down opposite of Suguru. “And for what did he sent you here, exactly?”

“The Gojo Group. He said you’re building a case against them. Both my parents worked there and—”

“Things are not looking great, I supposed,” Kento drily says and immediately his aura changes. “Tell me everything.”

So Suguru does. If nothing comes out of this, he at least has to admit that it feels good to get it all off his chest for once. Kento takes meticulous notes and he seems pleased by what Suguru tells him, so he has to believe that it’s something he can use to build his case even more.

“Are you willing to testify in court? Your parents, too?” Kento asks him once he’s done and Suguru nods.

“I am. I have to ask my parents, but I would think they’d say yes as well.”

“Wonderful,” Kento mutters, continuing to write things down.

“I—can probably talk to some of our neighbours? There are a lot of people who got screwed over by the Gojo Group and I think at least a few of them would be willing to talk to you.”

“That would be perfect. I’ve been trying to find more people willing to testify, but I wasn’t very successful. Everyone would help this case.”

“We didn’t know someone was doing this,” Suguru says with a shrug. “If not for Satoru I wouldn’t have either. And it’s not as if any of us have any money to spare on a lawyer.”

“Valid points, I should have considered this. But since I am building this case out of my own volition, I’m not going to charge anyone. I just need more people.”

“Believe me, there are more than enough,” Suguru promises him and he leaves the office with more of Kento’s cards and a promise to send as many people as he can.

Suguru wonders if Kento’s firm is prepared for the onslaught of people they will receive in the next few days.

~*~*~

“I would like to call on Gojo Satoru next,” Kento says and Suguru feels as if he’s having an out-of-body experience.

It can’t be true, he desperately thinks but when he looks up it’s Satoru—his Satoru—walking up. Satoru doesn’t look at him and Suguru feels as if he’s frozen right where he stands, a loud ringing in his ears.

He doesn’t hear anything Satoru says, doesn’t know why he’s on Kento’s side and not speaking out for his family but nothing makes sense anymore.

Except for how it totally does.

It explains the money Satoru has, the connections and why he flinched that one time Suguru talked about the Gojo Group.

It all makes sense and Suguru feels sick to his stomach.

The rest of the trial flies right by him and he doesn’t even hear what the verdict is or if there’s been one yet.

It’s only a few days later when his father excitedly waves around an official letter that it all truly sinks in.

They’ve won.

Kento won this case for them and Suguru’s family—and everyone else—is basically set for life. Every medical treatment of his mother will be paid for. His father will receive life-long compensation that is way higher than what the Gojo Group originally had to pay and because they tried to skimp out on it they are legally required to pay it for ten more years even after Suguru’s father dies, which means that he and his sisters are taken care of as well.

It’s everything Suguru never dared to hope for and he spends his fair share of tears over it before he quits two of his three jobs.

And then he messages Satoru to meet.

Satoru invites him over to his place, which is just as well with Suguru, because he really doesn’t want to do this in public and his hands shake with nerves as he rings on Satoru’s doorbell.

It’s not the outlandish apartment Suguru expected and he wonders if Satoru already down-sized after his family lost the case, even though this is still leagues nicer than anything Suguru knows.

There’s an awkward moment when Satoru opens the door, because Suguru can’t quite find his voice and clearly Satoru doesn’t know what to say either, so he simply waves him in. Satoru’s apartment is nice inside as well and Suguru is about to compliment him on it when Satoru speaks, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he needs to defend himself.

“Before you ask—and I know this is going to be the topic—I cut ties with my family as soon as I legally could. Nanami’s partner in that firm got me emancipated when I was sixteen. I did take a lot of my family’s money when I left but I haven’t spoken to them since. That trial was the first time I’ve even seen my parents in almost ten years.” Satoru works his jaw and Suguru’s head is just a mess of thoughts, just like his chest is a mess of emotions. “Of course I could never get rid of the name, though. So. How does it feel to find out I’m something you hate? Does that hurt?” Satoru asks him, his voice mocking and bitter and Suguru doesn’t think. He just acts.

The sound of his hand meeting Satoru’s cheek rings out loudly in the otherwise silent apartment.

“How dare you,” he hisses out but Satoru can’t even meet his eyes and this is all so wrong Suguru doesn’t even know where to start, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Marry me.”

That certainly gets Satoru’s attention.

“Huh?”

“If you marry me, then you can take my name, right? That’s a way to get rid of your family name,” Suguru says because he’s committed now that it’s out there even as his heart beats rabbit-fast in his chest.

“Suguru, what are you even saying? Did you not listen? I’m a Gojo, too. You said you want us all to drop dead where we stand.”

“Not you,” Suguru immediately says and steps close to pull Satoru into his arms.

It’s the most physical they’ve ever been despite the numerous dates they’ve been on and Suguru wonders why they’ve never done that before.

It feels as if Satoru was made to fit into his arms.

“You just said it, you broke with your family, you have nothing to do with them. And you worked with Kento against them, what more could I possibly ask of you?”

“I don’t—did it help then? I know he won the case but I don’t know what that means for every family. What it means for your family.”

“We’re set for life, Satoru, with everything. Your—the Gojo Group even has to pay us after my father eventually dies. Kento won it all for us.”

“That was all you, actually,” Satoru corrects him, finally bringing his arms around Suguru. “He told me that he’d never have gotten enough evidence without the people you brought to him.”

“Then it was all you,” Suguru corrects him and noses at Satoru’s temple. “Because you sent me his way. So thank you.”

“I just—I just wanted to help.”

“And you did, Satoru, you did so much for us.”

“You said you didn’t want to see me again,” Satoru reminds him of their last talk at the coffee shop and Suguru huffs.

“Because of extenuating circumstances not because I didn’t want to. I have missed you every day since then. I didn’t want to do it in the first place but everything was so much and I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you do want to see me?” Satoru asks and tightens his arms around Suguru as if he’s afraid that he could slip through his fingers at any moment now.

“I do, Satoru, I do. If you still want, of course.”

“You just asked to marry me,” Satoru replies as if that makes any sense.

“And you didn’t answer me,” Suguru reminds him. “So I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“It means that I think we should date for real first,” Satoru softly says and brushes his lips against Suguru’s neck. “And then see where that gets us.”

It’s a reasonable suggestion, Suguru has to admit that but still.

“When we marry, you’ll take my name, though. Just putting that out there so you can’t act all surprised when it happens.”

“When, huh?” Satoru mutters and Suguru goes hot when he presses his face into Suguru’s throat. “You that certain?”

“I was already in love with you back then,” Suguru admits because it’s not as if he has to hold anything back anymore. “I doubt that’s going to change.”

“Despite me being a Gojo?”

“Excuse me, you’re a soon-to-be-Geto,” he corrects him which makes Satoru laugh.

Suguru doesn’t even mind that he’s pulling away from him because it only means he gets to see the happiness on Satoru’s face.

“Soon-to-be Geto Satoru,” Satoru says. “It does have a nice ring to it.”

“Yeah, there’ll be a ring alright,” Suguru grumbles and does what he should have done at their second date but was too scared to do: he puts his hand to Satoru’s neck and pulls him right in for a kiss.

He’s met with no resistance at all, Satoru an eager participant in the kiss and Suguru finds himself wanting to do it again as soon as they part.

“We’re doing this all out of order,” Satoru mutters and Suguru shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter as long as we’re doing it,” he gives back and dives right back in for another kiss.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Satoru’s lips and he hopes Satoru knows just how grateful Suguru is for everything he’s done for him.

“This is not some strange guilt thing or anything, right? Or gratitude.”

“It most definitely is not,” Suguru assures him. “I wanted to do that way before all of this happened.”

“Okay then,” Satoru nods and leans their foreheads together. “Still, dating first. Real dating. Then we can talk about getting married.”

“First date right now,” Suguru demands because while he sees the merit of what Satoru says, it also sounds stupid and as if it’s going to cost them way too much time.

Better start the dating right now.

“Deal,” Satoru says with a big smile and then steps out of Suguru’s reach to put on shoes. “A dinner date. You’re paying.”

Suguru laughs at that because for once hearing it doesn’t make dread crawl up his back and it doesn’t sent his mind into overdrive to figure out if he can afford it.

And it’s all thanks to Satoru.

“Deal,” he agrees and threads their fingers together. “Next date it’s your turn though.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Satoru gives back and drops another quick kiss onto Suguru’s lips.

Things are absolutely, phenomenally perfect in Suguru’s opinion and he can’t wait to make them even more perfect by giving Satoru his name. And he’s definitely not going to wait years to do it.

(It takes them eight months. Mostly because for whatever reason Satoru is being stubborn about it and turns Suguru’s proposals in month three and five down. And then Suguru turns Satoru’s proposal in month six down because of the principal of the thing. They do get it right, eventually, and once Satoru is officially Geto Satoru he stops being informal with everyone and gleefully demands people use his family name. It always gets Suguru a little hot and bothered when he does and he encourages it shamelessly.)

[camilleflyingrotten]

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LATER

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Boy did she make it clear that she didn’t want to marry a man… or be proposed to 🤭

Taylor “I hate marriage” Swift (part 1) (lyric connections)

[and-this-of-all-my-hopes]

So, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep seeing metas about how Aziraphale wants Crowley to return to Heaven and be an angel again because he wants them to be on the same side/be good/change/etc., etc., etc. but I don’t see that at all. I actually see it as the very opposite.

Aziraphale loves Crowley just as he is. But there’s something more. Something huge.

Aziraphale loves Crowley and because he is an angel who is stuck in seeing things as black and white, he constantly praises Crowley for being nice. For being good. For being kind.

Aziraphale has watched Crowley on and off for 6,000 years. He watched him thwart the plans of Heaven and Hell because it was unjust. He spared the lives of innocents. He did small things that made Aziraphale happy just because (like making Hamlet successful and saving valuable books). And because Aziraphale sees things in black and white, he sees all the things Crowley has done as nice, as good, as kind.

Crowley vehemently attests he’s not nice or good or kind.

He’s not exactly wrong nor is he lying when he says this. When Crowley spares goats during a cruel bet over a righteous man and swallowing laudanum to prevent a suicide, when he prevents Armageddon by working with Aziraphale and stopping the Anti-Christ from being the Anti-Christ, he’s not doing the nice/good/kind thing.

He’s doing the right thing.

Crowley chooses to do the right thing without hesitation. He is better than all of Heaven and Hell who have callous and dispassionate view of all existence because he questions, because he makes choices. Crowley sees the world for all its messiness and he sees himself. He sees a place where he fits in. He sees the blurred edges.

And Aziraphale sees that, even if seeing the blurred edges is hard for him.

But here’s the thing that Aziraphale can’t voice.

It’s the reason why he told Crowley about being allowed to return to Heaven and become an angel again. He doesn’t want Crowley to change. He doesn’t think Crowley is flawed. Or not enough.

It’s something that is so monumental that it cannot be put into words. Because to put it into words would be more than blasphemy. It’s down right unthinkable for anyone in Heaven, Hell, or Earth to say what Aziraphale knows deep in his soul.

God was wrong to cast out Crowley.

Aziraphale believes Crowley can/should return to Heaven because he knows that Crowley should never have fallen in the first place. He wants him to be forgiven because when Crowley fell it was unjust. Aziraphale is trying to correct a mistake. He’s trying to do the right thing.

Yes, Crowley would never accept returning to Heaven. And Aziraphale was wrong to even suggest it (although that conversation is another can of worms to unpack).

Aziraphale loves Crowley. He loves him exactly as he is. He doesn’t want him to change. Aziraphale knows that Crowley the best of all of them. He wants to change Heaven because of it. Because God was wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale may have difficulty seeing beyond black and white, but when it comes to Crowley he sees everything crystal clear and in vivid color.

[ipeesinghh]

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