#that being said I can see them as both a platonic or romantic pair

[gojonanami]

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

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

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

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

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

✧ wc: 16,043

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup, you have a headache now. 

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

Why were you considering this? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said your name, “Well?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo, this is—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one can see us,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“ 

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

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

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

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

“How long will you be gone?” 

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

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

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

“You don’t have to—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were already there. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glanced at the time, he’s late. 

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

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

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

It was probably the latter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bad rom com,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was unspoken. 

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

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

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever. 

Your neck hurts. 

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

Or what you thought was your bed. 

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

Gojo. 

Gojo??? 

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

You really should have fucking known better. 

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

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

Fuck. Your. Life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” 

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

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

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

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

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

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

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

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

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

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding. 

Fuck. You were so screwed. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. 

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

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

Another knock. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like it always never was. 

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

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

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

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

“My apartment isn’t—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what you said—“ 

“I said what I had to—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to—“ 

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

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

“Give you what?” 

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

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

No, it was. It was, right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slap. It’s definitely a slap. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he realized it was you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, it was real.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about we make breakfast together?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

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

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was expecting to meet 

I suppose we’re on the same page,” 

He tilts his head, “Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You needed to talk to him in person. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s blinking, “Why?” 

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

“But you didn’t—” 

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

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

“No I don’t—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—“ 

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

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

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

And this time he doesn’t stop you. 

It’s for the best. 

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

It was for the best. 

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. You were home. 

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

Gojo? 

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

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

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

Satoru was…getting married? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if it wasn’t with you. 

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

So you wait. 

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

That wasn’t Satoru. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ellecdc]

HIII!!!!!!!!! first off i wanna say - I LOVEEEEE ALLLLLLLL THE RECENT WORKS SM i came back and i was reading through them and they're soooooo good ur so talented omgomomg

ok so request (take ur time if u want!!) idk if u write platonic fics but i really really love how u write barty and that one fic where reader and reg were fighting and she was bsfs with barty- i loved it smmmmm so can we please get some platonic barty x reader being the main focus? (i dont mind anyyy romantic pairings i just want best friend barty being absolutely insane plsplsplpslsl

of course MY LOVE; this request is from back in March hahaha sorry

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who they find in bed with Barty

CW: fluff, swearing

Regulus had spent the last umpteen years believing himself to be a light sleeper, likely thanks to growing up in a house straight out of a muggle horror film where his fight or flight reflexes were always at the ready to flee from any danger. It appeared, though, that being,  like, loved by and feeling safe with the people you surround yourself with could do wonders to a person’s subconscious…

Who knew?

This meant that though Regulus was typically a light sleeper, he seemed to have slept through your departure from his bed in the Slytherin boys’ dormitory.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to sleep through the sudden jolt Remus caused in the bed as he sat up and began panickedly feeling around the bed. 

“What’re you doing?” Regulus groaned as he pulled his pillow over his head and rolled onto his side in order to point his back towards his - currently skating-on-thin-ice - boyfriend. 

“Where’s dovey?” Remus hissed back; an urgent quality taking over his words that Regulus could tell it was far too early to be dealing with.

“What d’you mean?”

Remus groaned in exasperation as he cast a lumos with his wand. “I mean where is our girlfriend, you sod.”

“Have you checked with Barty?”

Regulus almost allowed sleep to pull him back into its sweet, sweet embrace before Remus ruined it again.

“What?”

“Barty, Remus. Have you checked with Barty?” Regulus repeated irritably.

“No? What? Why would I have checked with Junior?” Remus sputtered, though his asinine question was answered by none other than Barty himself.

“Finders keepers mother fuckers.” He snickered quietly.

Remus ripped open the curtain of Regulus’ four poster bed in the Slytherin dungeons to see you sleeping quite peacefully on the opposite side of Barty who was grinning arrogantly at your two boyfriends. 

“What!?” 

“She was too hot over there; I can feel the heat radiating off of you from here, Lupin. What the fuck is that about?”

“She could have taken a blanket off!” Remus argued petulantly.

“You kept tucking her back in saying she was going to catch a cold.” Regulus added helpfully sleepily.

Barty snickered at Remus’ disbelieving scoff. 

“No. Absolutely not; Junior, give me our girlfriend back.” He demanded.

This time it was Barty’s turn to scoff. “Would you shut the fuck up, Lupin; we’re trying to sleep over here.”

And to Remus’s absolute horror, you seemed to stir at the conversation causing you to reach an arm over Barty’s chest and rest your head on his shoulder before you settled back into a restful slumber. 

“Leave her be, Rem.” Regulus chided, causing Remus to divert his malcontented glare to his boyfriend.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re always going on and on about how we need to prioritize sleep; she’s doing that.” He explained simply.

“With him!” Remus nearly shrilled, earning him a ‘shut up you stupid sod’ from said girlfriend stealer.

“Well would you rather have both of us be tetchy tomorrow for having our beauty sleep interrupted, or just me!?” Regulus finally barked, pulling his pillow away from his face to shoot Remus a stern glare. 

Remus seemed to consider his options before he begrudgingly relented and sunk back under the covers with a very petulant harumph.

“She’s going to smell like him tomorrow.” He pouted as he pulled Regulus into his arms possessively. 

Regulus sighed and nuzzled further into Remus’ neck. “You can fix that tomorrow.”

Regulus felt the tension in Remus’ body relax as he no doubt imagined all the ways he would be doing just that.

[kujousgf]

Okay but what about g!p Nat getting r pregnant at a one night stand. R actually being yelenas best friend who always said her sister is off limits and told nat her friends are off limits. Nat being a player. But like a happy ending

KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS FALL OFF mdni. 18+

pairings ; natasha romanoff + f ! reader (romantic), yelena belova + f ! reader (platonic), wanda maximoff + f ! reader (platonic)

summary ; you know you shouldn't, really you do, but there's just something about natasha that pulls you in and wraps an iron chain around your heart

warnings ; fade to black smut (i'm the worst, i know), natasha has a penis, unprotected sex, pregnancy, top ! natasha, bottom ! reader, tiny bit of angst, intoxication, morning sickness

wc ; 2.5k~

a/n ; i hope this is what you were looking for !! i got a liiiitle carried away with this i think. also this is not proofread ! (also, please do not use the term 'g!p', just say 'character with penis' please !)

“She is off limits, Natalia. I can see that look in your eyes, she’s too nice for you.”

“She is no good for you, Y/N. Don’t fall for her annoying charms.”

That is what Yelena had said to both of you, separately, of course, the first time you met her sister. For Natasha it was a thinly veiled threat and for you it was a warning– Natasha was no good, she would break your heart. 

That was about four years ago and while the two of you tried your best to respect Yelena’s wishes, you more so than Natasha, it was getting increasingly harder to deny the attraction you felt towards each other. You never wanted to cross Yelena’s boundaries, she was your best friend since you two were old enough to walk. A betrayal like that would shake your friendship in ways you didn’t want to think about. 

You understand that Yelena just wants the best for you, knowing of her sister’s habit of sleeping with girls only to leave them in the middle of the night and suddenly forget they exist, but there was just something that wouldn't stop tugging you towards Natasha. There was no denying her attractiveness, anyone with eyes could tell that the redhead was attractive, but it was the way she treated you that really had you weak in the knees. She was frustratingly charming and stupidly sweet. When Yelena was around to shoot daggers at her for her flirting, she claimed that she was just being friendly. 

“What’s wrong with being nice to a pretty girl, Lena?”

You two had shared more than a few tender moments alone, but nothing past a soft kiss and a quietly whispered ‘You know we can’t’ that always left Natasha wanting more of you. She knew you wanted to respect Yelena, she did, and she lov– liked you for how much you cared for her sister, but God, she wished you cared a little less. She wished you were a little more selfish, a little more willing to let her have you. 

Natasha doesn’t know when she developed actual feelings for you past physical attraction, and she’d rather not think about it, if she were being honest. It didn’t matter what she felt for you if she could never act on it, if it would make her feel rotten for acting on it, for crossing a boundary Yelena had set and you were trying your hardest to set yourself. So, she did what she’d been doing best for the past three years: slept with almost every girl that the only gay bar in Ohio had to offer. 

It’s not like the both of you hadn’t tried to move on, but nothing ever seemed to stick. None of the girls Natasha slept with made the burning hole in her chest ease its aching, and no one you ever tried to date could ever compare to Natasha. Even that pretty blonde pilot with the same type of dominating presence couldn’t tear your heart away from the Russian. You think you might have to try and erase Natasha from your memory, but even then you don’t think it would work. Your heart would still remember her. 

Too many drinks and Yelena’s birthday party is how you ended up here, in the one place you shouldn’t be. Natasha just looked so pretty tonight, even wearing something so simple as her usual leather jacket and black jeans, you finally just couldn’t contain yourself. You two are in the guest bedroom of Yelena’s apartment, Natasha’s hands gripping your waist as you grind against her lap, your hands tangled in her hair. 

This is the first time the two of you had gone past a soft kiss or a gentle hand brushing against each other. It’s been four years of torture, trying to deny each other of what you both wanted, and now that you have it, it doesn’t seem like either of you want to let go. Natasha had been a little shocked when you barged into the room she was occupying for the night, but who is she to deny you when you were all red cheeked and asking for her to please kiss you?

“Okay, okay. Slow down, sweetheart.” Natasha laughs, breathless as she pulls away from your lips, her hands stilling your hips. God, she wants to keep going, but she could taste the liquor on your lips, and the last thing she wanted to do was let you do something you’d regret. You try to chase her lips, a pout making its way onto your features, but she holds you back. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Just looking at you, Tasha.” You grumble, trying to press your lips to hers again. 

“Hey, hey, come on. Listen to me for a minute, okay?” She reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear and brushes her thumb across your cheek. The touch feels like electricity shooting through your body and you wish she would just stop trying to talk to you. Does she not want you like you want her?

“You know, once we do this there’s no going back, Y/N. You have to be sure, okay? Do you want this?”

“Yes. Please, Tasha, I want you. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

And, well, who is Natasha to say no to that?

It isn’t until Natasha sneaks out of the room at 4am to get a drink and she’s confronted with Yelena in the kitchen that she realizes what she’s done. Yelena has never told her that anyone is off limits besides you, and she can’t even keep it in her pants for one night? (She knows it’s been four years, but you’ve only approached her like this the one time.)

She tries to act like nothing is different, like she’s just grabbing some water, but Yelena raises an eyebrow at the difference in the air around her sister. She’s not as stupid as the two of you seem to think she is, she’s noticed the downright disgusting tension between the two of you and the horrible lovey dovey eyes her sister makes towards you. 

“You break her heart and I break your ribs. Got it?”

Natasha chokes on her water, she would’ve thought she’d be a little more concerned for her heart, but this is fine, “Got it.”

And then Yelena is walking out of the kitchen to go to her own room. On her birthday? You two just had to do it on her birthday? Unbelievable. 

Since that night, you and Natasha had gone on a couple of dates and you’ve been trying to spend as much time with each other as possible. You hadn’t slept with each other since, it was hard to find the right opportunity while she was staying with Yelena for the next month while her house was being renovated and your roommate Wanda always seemed to be at your apartment lately. 

About a week later you woke up feeling like something was off. You didn’t know what it was until your body was moving on its own accord and you found yourself rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. God, you hoped you weren’t getting sick. As you sat with your back leaning against the cool glass of the shower, you closed your eyes for a second before it hit you. 

Natasha didn’t wear a condom. 

Oh God, Natasha didn’t wear a condom. You scramble to get yourself up and brush your teeth before rushing out of the bathroom and tugging on a pair of sweatpants and an old college sweater of Natasha’s that she left a couple of nights ago. What time is it? You pat your pockets and then fish out your phone, 7:56am. Okay, the pharmacy should be open by the time you get there. 

This is fine, it’s probably nothing. You’re probably just sick, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten as much candy as you did, but Natasha was so happy to get you something you liked and you were really craving it. You tug on your shoes and you’re out the door and walking down the street in less than two minutes. 

The walk to the pharmacy is relatively short, you chose an apartment in the city, so nothing is more than a 15 minute walk. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you pick out one of the many options and you walk to the checkouts, but not before grabbing a chocolate bar. You’ve been really wanting one for days now, but that has nothing to do with this, you just like chocolate, that’s all. You groan, what are you even trying to do right now? Convince your subconscious that you’re not pregnant?

The walk back to your apartment seems like it takes forever and you don’t even need to drink a bunch of water because your nerves are making you feel like you’re going to piss your pants anyway. 

Wanda chooses the exact moment you start pacing in the bathroom to come out of her room, concealing a yawn behind her hand. “Y/N, why are you doing laps in the bathroom? If there’s a bug somewhere just kill it.”

“No, I’m not– there’s not a bug, Wands. I’m just…” You pause, fidgeting with the hem of your, well, Natasha’s sweatshirt, “I think I might be pregnant.”

A pause. 

“You think what?!”

“Don’t say that like that! It’s not a bad thing I think. I just– I just don’t know how Natasha will react.” You wrap your arms around yourself and deflate a little bit, just the idea of Natasha being upset has you acting like a kicked puppy.

Wanda softens and walks towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a hug, “I’m sure Natasha will react just fine. And if she doesn’t then that’s her problem, not yours.” You lean into her and let yourself relax for a minute. You hadn’t known Wanda for as long as Yelena, you only met in your freshman year of college, but you consider her one of your best friends. 

“Y/N… I think you should take a look.” Wanda had taken a quick peek at the test over your shoulder, and she squeezes you softly before pulling away. 

You turn around and try your hardest not to feel too scared. Either outcome is fine, right? 

Two lines. 

You were pregnant.

Tears start to prick at your eyes and you’re not sure why, but you find yourself turning and hiding yourself in Wanda’s arms, not able to stop yourself from crying. You only just started properly seeing Natasha, what if she hates you? What if she never wants to see you again? What if–

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. She won’t hate you.”

Wanda’s soothing voice reaches your ears and you realize you must have been saying those things out loud. You nod against her chest and sniffle, trying to get yourself to stop crying. You had to tell Natasha, you have to get yourself ready and make yourself look presentable. 

Wanda helps you get ready, telling you soothing things every once in a while when you start to worry again, trying to reassure you that Natasha isn’t going to hate you. And, if anything, this is Natasha’s fault anyway, but she doesn’t say that part. She drives you to Yelena’s apartment where Natasha is staying for the time being and gives you a reassuring smile, saying she’ll be waiting right outside if you need her. But if you don’t come out in 15 minutes she’s leaving because she has to go open the bookstore for Darcy. 

You give her a weak nod and walk the now intimidating path up to Yelena’s apartment. You stand outside for a whole two minutes before getting the courage to knock. You knew Yelena wasn’t home and that it would be Natasha to answer the door. The blonde went to kickboxing every Saturday morning and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. 

Natasha is a little surprised to see you standing outside her door at 8:30 in the morning, but then she takes in your slightly red eyes and still tear stained cheeks and she’s ushering you inside with an arm around your waist and a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are you hurt? What happened? Do you need me to call Yelena? What’s going on?” The words tumble from Natasha’s lips before she can stop them, the need to protect you and make sure you’re safe overpowering anything else she might have wanted to say. Like how cute you look in her sweater. 

You shake your head and suddenly there are tears in your eyes again and your bottom lip starts to wobble. “No, p–please don’t call Yelena. I just– I need to talk to you.” You’re trying not to cry again, but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know how to break the news in a way that won’t destroy the only thing you’ve wanted for the last four years. 

The concern in Natasha’s eyes isn’t making this any easier as she takes you over to sit on the couch, sitting next to you and taking your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “Alright, we can talk. You can talk to me. What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

“I-I…” Your fingers twitch nervously in her hands, “Natasha, I’m pregnant.” And the confession ruins any chance you had of stopping yourself from crying, afraid she’s going to push you away or yell at you or tell you to get out or–

Natasha’s eyes widen and her breathing stops for a moment, you’re pregnant? But you hadn’t slept together since– Oh. Oh. 

And then she snaps back to the present where you’re crying and she’s frozen like an idiot. And she’s gotta do something before you come to the wrong conclusion. This should be fine, though, right? She loves you, she can do this. She can do this, can’t she?

 “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” She speaks softly, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears with her thumbs. She takes one look at your face and now she’s trying to keep the tears out of her own eyes. “Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah, baby? Everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.” She brings your head towards her chest and wraps one arm around you while the other strokes your hair. You’re crying harder now, but you think maybe they might be relieved tears, happy ones, even? 

“We’re gonna figure it out.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, she can do this.

[saturnsbabyboii]

🍓Synastry Astro Observations🍓

(Cause I haven't been active for three months)

🍓Regardless of the sign a planet is in, it is important to check the aspects it makes to other planets. This is especially the case for synastry charts and readings as aspects create an activation that can enhance, block or overturn the energy of said planets.

🍓People with Sun conjunct Sun aspect are very competitive with one another. This is usually exasperated when one or both have this aspect in a Fire house.

🍓Natives with Mars squaring others Neptune are usually challenging people realities. For the Mars native, the Neptune person is usually a cause of drama or someone that is petty or inauthentic. The Mars person can easily see through the Neptune person facade. However positively, the Neptune person can soothe the Mars native, despite their defensiveness. For the Neptune native on the other hand, this could be a relationship where the Mars person helps them overcome and outgrow harmful cycles, or actualize their dreams. Worst case, the Mars person is very harmful to the Neptune native mental health and psyche. They could be an abuser of sorts.

🍓Mercury trine Mars are people that can help each other process things and brainstorm as they work very well with one another balancing ideas and workload. This is the dream team for any project.

🍓People with their MC in square aspect to your Sun might feel embarrassed to be seen with you in public. Best case they prefer to be more personal and private with you, bringing you into their personal space and away from their outer persona.

🍓Personally, I have found that the predominance of Squares usually only works in context of friendship rather than in romance, sex or family. Although it could create conflict between personalities, when done right, it can signify support, companionship or even someone that'll be instrumental in helping you break out of toxic patterns or elevate into a higher level and field.

🍓MC square MC is an indication of having drama or a falling out publicly.

🍓Lunar Nodes in aspect to your personal planets have a strong effect on you, although it would be temporary. Meanwhile, someone Nodes in your angular houses (1st, 4th, 7th, 10th) will play a big role in your life. This is would be particularly true if they're in aspect to your Ascendant/Descendant/IC/MC.

🍓Aspects between Venus and Venus create more harmony and attraction than positive aspects between Mars and Venus/ Mars and Mars.

🍓Jupiter conjunct Saturn are two sides of the same coin. They're two people with the same ideals and principles yet they approach and practice them differently.

🍓Even though it is not "official" or as widely done, but I give great importance to the compatibility between the houses in synastry, regardless of the planets present. Since the houses are a reflection of our life map, it can help us better understand our similarities and differences, plus our possible standpoints.

🍓When looking over synastry with a parent, take a good look at the aspects made by their Saturn and Chiron to your personal placements. Chiron in specific can show where/what they unleash or heal their trauma through you.

🍓Mars opposition Saturn is a high indication of a relationship being described as a "Cold War".

🍓Having Chiron and/or Pluto conjunct someone inner planets means you're are here to serve them karma or bring them justice.

🍓Ascendant conjunct Venus creates a very beautiful pairing. Whether it's romantic or platonic, this pair accentuate one another's beauty.

🍓Check the aspects your Neptune makes to the other person. The planets aspected indicate where do you overlook traits, paint a false picture, or what are you in denial about regrading the person. This works in terms of justifying behavior, making up a connection, and possibly lying on or magnifying "bad traits" in others that don't exist. It also goes the other way around.

🍓The placement of someone's Moon in your houses can summarize their emotional state towards you or what they find in common with you on a deeper level. For example:

Someone's Moon in your 1st house can be a person that feels endowed or in awe of your appearance (especially when their Moon is inconjunction with your Ascendant). You may carry yourself in a way that they relate to or deeply desire. This person may also be someone that shares superficial feelings of you or thinks that you're shallow. Possible jealousy.

Someone's Moon in your 2nd house is a sign of codependence, specifically of the Moon native towards you. Since the 2nd house rules resources and self esteem, this person may require a lot from you, and might be a bit too comfortable taking things from you. You yourself may also enable this behavior and don't see a problem with it. In some cases, this could be a person that is emotionally supportive and reinforcing of your own worth. In contrast, this could be someone that creates blockages and hinders your material growth.

Someone's Moon in your 3rd house will be a person that you feel very comfortable talking to. This can be someone you find out that they're from the same hometown as you or have lived/is living in your childhood neighborhood. A potential life long roomie. An indication of a nurturing or "motherly" way of communicating with one another.

Someone's Moon in your 10th is similar to that of the 1st, in that the Moon person would be either in awe or jealous of you. In this house, this is exhibited overtly. This person could be your biggest cheerleader or biggest hater. Something about you succeeding (or even failing) affects them deeply. It's likely that this person won't have your best interest at heart and may use associating with you as a way to gain fame or monetary wealth. In positive cases, this person could be a confidant in professional environments.

🍓People that have more than two planets in your water houses (4th, 8t, 12th) will have a profound effect on you for the rest of this lifetime. These houses are not only related to our deeper selves and private life, but they're also karmic. Our relationship with such people is much more darker and intimate, showing hidden aspects of ourselves that we may not be aware of. Being around them may be draining as those relationships can feel like a blood oath, to say the least. Particularly for the 12th, this person can unravel you in the best (and worst) ways possible. As the house of hidden enemies, this person might be harmful to you in an unforeseen ways. If both of you share planets in these houses then it's an indication of trauma bonding.

🍓A person with their natal Mars in your 8th house can be someone oddly provoking. Its giving "why do I even like you?". These are not the people you usually find attractive yet they have a strange hold on you. They're your forbidden fruit.

🍓Aspects made to the ascendent can explain ones first impression of another. For example, Venus in aspect to the ascendent describes a sense of intrigue and attraction based off of desire (Opposition), envy (Square), resonance (Conjunct), belonging (Trine), or curiosity (Sextile).

Bye Ugly xoxo

[kerrslvr]

reward // mary earps

summary; in which, after she wins SPOTY, you give mary a reward like no other.

warnings; dom!mary, sub!reader, cocky mary, cunninlingus, fingering, mary loves to manipulate reader into saying i love you, strap-ons, grind pads, reverse cowgirl, spanking, daddy kink (blink and you'll miss it), nipple stimulation, fluff at the end. probably missed some warnings and probably made typos, sorry. also… take this as a christmas present. merry christmas u filthy lesbians x

pairing(s): romantic mary earps x scott!reader, platonic jill scott x sister!reader (r is about 24/25 in this… mary & jill are their current ages at the time of writing - 30 & 36 respectively)

based on this request x

"this is live on the BBC and you're wearing a dress with a slit that deep?"

the frown in jill's voice was clear as you stepped out of the taxi and into the chill of the manchester air, the immediate swarm of camera flashes turned your way.

"can tell you're getting old," you replied as you adjusted the skirt of your dress, "you're starting to sound like mum."

your oldest sister was not amused by her likening to your mother. shelly couldn't make it to the spoty ceremony, and seeing as most of jill's friends were going anyway, she'd invited you. originally, you'd been invited by the company you work for, but being a sports journalist in-training, they'd found someone more qualified than you to do the job; and jill didn't like that.

"just make sure your dress doesn't malfunction and cause headlines tomorrow," she said, waiting patiently for you to catch up as you scurried along beside her, "otherwise mam'll have a breakdown."

you shrugged your shoulders at your sisters worry, you weren't wearing the dress for her, or the cameras. there was only one person you were wearing it for, and you could see her in your peripheral vision, stepping out of her vehicle, dressed to the nines in what can only be described as a revenge dress on you.

she spotted you instantly, your pretty hair and your not-so-innocent eyes and the way they twinkled as they met hers across the carpet. your dresses almost matched, the gaping neckline, the peeks of skin through the lacy mesh, the long black skirt.

you had to fight your jaw so it didn't drop to the floor, and it seemed like everyone else around you also had to fight their urges. people screamed mary's name and you struggled to keep your composure as you and jill eagerly waltzed over to see her.

"i'm so proud of you," jill sqeaked eagerly as she wrapped her arms around mary's shoulders. the look she gave you when your sister wasn't looking almost let your knees give way. "and you look lovely."

"very similar to your sister, come to think of it, jill," mary pointed at your dress and scanned you up and down, "minus the obscenely high split."

you cursed mary with a knowing look before jill turned to compare. if she found out you and mary were frequent flyers in each others beds she would probably wring you out herself, let alone your mother.

"i was just about to compliment you, earps," you shrugged off her devilish eyes and knowing smirk, "but i think i'll just keep my mouth closed."

the two of them did press for a little while, and you watched from the sidelines, admiring mary's demeanor. you couldn't remember how long ago everything started between you and mary, although the euro's final was the first night you spent entangled between her sheets. you didn't even know you were into girls - let alone mary - when you first started sleeping together, and at first, that's all it was, until it wasn't.

she started picking you up from the station, inviting you to games, date night after date night, after date night. one morning things changed and you both realised there were painfully strong feelings of love underlying, but she was thirty and you were twenty five, and she was your sisters best friend, and you were a sports journalist. you both knew how bad it looked.

but, the feelings of love outweighed the feelings of lust, and that was the worst part.

"don't you fancy asking me some questions then, love?"

mary's voice lulled you from your daydream, and she met you in a less crowded corner of the carpet. you could see jill mingling with leah and jen, the three of them chatting politely while they waited for mary to finish up with her interviews - at least, thats what she told them.

"surely you've had enough of questions, mary."

she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and let her hand rest on your shoulder. the heat from her skin on yours sent burning flashbacks rushing through your brain.

"maybe i have," she leaned down and tilted up your chin with her fingers. even without her heels on she towered over you, but with her heels on she was even taller, nearing six foot, and it made you squirm. "but i've not had a single question from the person i want to speak to."

you couldn't help but let a smile come to your face, and mary admired your fluttering eyelids, "and who might that be, earps?"

mary's thumb traced your lip, and you couldn't help but pucker your lips. "i think you know exactly who it is, princess," she laughed, and for a moment, she thought about kissing you, but she wanted to have her fun tonight, "you can unpucker those lips and ask me your first question."

you sighed and looked at her with soft eyes - of course she was in one of those moods tonight. mary got off on you when she put you in these situations, it drove her absolutely insane. "don't you want to kiss me in public?"

mary rolled her eyes and leaned in, her lips pressing against yours softly as the breeze of manchester air blew across the two of your bodies. a storm was coming, and the chill sent goosebumps across your skin, mary's too, but she was much better at composing herself.

you wanted to deepen the kiss, to outstretch your arms and pull her closer, to guide her hand up into the slit of your dress, but you knew better than to draw attention to your escapades.

mary was first to pull away, and the pink hue of your lipgloss had tainted her light brown. it was a sight to behold.

"better?"

"hm," you shrugged, "what do you plan on doing if you win the award tonight?"

"finally a question i can answer without lying," mary hummed, "if i win tonight i'm going to be taking my girlfriend back to my hotel room, and doing many, many inappropriate things with her."

you shivered at her words, and had to fight the urges running rife inside your bloodstream.

"oh, really?" you questioned, a raised eyebrow. jill noticed you two were standing together in a quiet corner, "and what do you plan on doing if you don't win?"

"oh, well, lets see," mary faked a thought, and you spotted jill walking towards you both with an excited grin, "oh, yes, i'll be taking my girlfriend back to my hotel room and doing many, many appropriate things with her."

you couldn't help but blush, and you opened your mouth to reply but jill stood in your way. "ceremony's gonna start soon, we really should think about going in, Y/N," she gave you a questioning look, silently asking if you were okay, and you nodded. "they want you for a few more pictures, mary, we'll see you in there."

jill was quiet as the two of you walked behind leah and esme, and you were petrified she would bring up the question and ask you what's going on between you and her best friend, and you didn't have an answer.

"she's your type," she said after a while, nudging you with her shoulder, "mary, i mean, not the girl you were telling me about in the car earlier. mary's the best, hilarious, good with her hands -"

"okay, jilly, thanks," you hit her on the shoulder, "i don't need you to play matchmaker, especially not with mary earps, now c'mon, my heels are killing me."

*

mary couldn't quite believe she'd won the award, and as the night lingered on, her body consistently kept gravitating towards yours. you didn't mind, it seemed everybody in the room kept themselves occupied, if they weren't pulling mary away for five minutes, they were mingling with each other.

jill noticed you and mary spending more time with one another than what she thought acceptable as two people who don't know one another all that well, and she knew she ought to bring it up, but when you began to say your goodbyes approximately ten minutes after mary did at almost midnight, her intuition kicked in.

"leaving already?" she asked, coming up to you before you could show up in front of her, "you and leah are almost always the last two on the dancefloor singing shania twain, or... do you have something better to do?"

you knew that look, the look she was giving you. it was the look she always gave you when she was disappointed you didn't tell her things, like when you failed your driving test and told her you'd passed just so she'd let you drive her new car, or when she'd swung open your bedroom door when you were nineteen to find you in bed with your first boyfriend, much to her disgust.

"if you're galivanting off to sleep with mary, i don't mind," she said, brushing the hair out of your face, "i've watched the way she's looked at you all evening, i noticed the brush of her hand on your thigh and the way you look up at her. i don't mind, y/n, really, i don't."

you knew mary would be on her way to the hotel by now, if not, already there, waiting for your arrival. as much as you wanted to spill your two and a half years worth of secrets to jill, you couldn't bring yourself to do it in this moment.

"then why do you sound so disappointed?"

"i'm not disappointed, i just wish you'd tell me," she ruffled your hair and kissed your cheek, "i'll see you at the buffet for breakfast, and please, for the love of god, stick a do not disturb sign on mary's door."

you slipped into a taxi, and within fifteen minutes you were knocking at mary's hotel room door, and the time it took her to answer the door felt like forever. she swung it open, only so you could see her from the neck up, but you could tell by the angle in which she was standing that she was hiding something.

"took you long enough, love."

"i could say the same for you," you replied, watching mary as her eyes trailed right down to your exposed leg, the slit higher than she remembered, "what're you doing in there?"

she smirked, simply allowing the door to swing open, and when it did your knees almost buckled again. your eyes weren't really sure where to look, it seemed the lace top of her dress was detachable from the long black skirt, and there she stood before you in a lacy bodysuit which made your mind reel.

this was far from the mary you knew, usually with her hair in a messy pony, more often than not, a face with faint green stains of grass, and the familiar smell of either the pitch or the training room, her dominance unrelenting.

although she was in a lacy black bodysuit, the latter statement about her dominance still stayed the same.

"are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to come in and let me get my reward?"

you stuttered, struggling to get the words to travel from your brain to your mouth. it was too late for you to answer, though. mary had lost her patience, and she pulled you in and - for lack of a better word - you slammed into the nearest wall.

mary kicked the door and her lips devoured you as if she hadn't kissed you for months, her hands struggling to find a place to rest. your hands settled on resting around her shoulders, your heels giving you just enough of a height boost to be able to stand in that position comfortably, your lips moving together in perfect harmony.

mary's hands found a place to rest on your hips, but she wasted no time in parting the split in your dress and letting her hand explore. a blush crept its way onto your cheeks when she clocked that you weren't wearing underwear.

"oh, sweetheart, really?" she pulled her lips away from yours and gave you that look, the one that accompanied the 'you're not smart, so don't act like it' talk, and you gave her your best innocent eyes, "no underwear, sweetheart, why's that?"

"because you told me not to," your voice was shaking as you spoke, "last week, you told me i couldn't, y-you told me if i did that you wouldn't be very happy."

mary pushed the split in the dress apart and the fresh air touched your cold pussy, sending goosebumps across your skin. it was even worse for you when she knelt down, the heat from her breath juxtaposing the goosebumps and sending your skin into overdrive.

"have i ever told you how pretty of a pussy you have, darling?"

"once or twice," you pushed the hair from her face so it didn't tickle your skin and push the goosebumps further, "but you can tell me again if you - oh."

mary couldn't help herself, her eager tongue needed to taste you. she licked along your slit as you spoke, and reduced your words to a slur of moans. she parted your legs further and scooted closer to your body until you were practically sitting on top of her face, her tongue slipping further and further into your folds.

"i should be the one d-doing this to you, surely," you hummed, hoisting your dress across your hips and allowing her much easier access to your pussy, "you have just won the best award in your career to date."

mary pulled away and you could see her chin glistening with your wetness, causing her makeup to go patchy. her fingers traced the space that her tongue had just been, circling your hole teasingly in only the way she could.

"yes, i have, and you can keep stroking my ego by telling me that again as you take off your dress," she raised an eyebrow, halting the movements of her finger until you did as she asked, "but, your pussy is my reward and i expect to get as much of a reward as possible this evening, do i make myself clear?"

"y-yes," you nodded, allowing your dress to slip straight down your frame until it pooled at your ankles, showing your naked frame to the woman kneeling before you, "i understand."

mary's finger slipped inside of you, albeit ridiculously slow and with nowhere near enough friction to make you cum, but it felt great nonetheless.

"you're such a good little girl for me, aren't you, y/n?" she asked, stretching you out with another finger and curling her fingers in an excruciatingly slow come hither motion, "leaving the afterparty like i asked you to, following me back to my hotel room so i could look at this pretty pussy and hear those innocent little moans all night," she kissed your clit softly and it sent a fluttery feeling scattering through your stomach, "anyone would think you love me, darling."

you opened your mouth to speak, and right as a word began do leave it, mary added a third finger. the stretch was painful, but delicious at the same time and you bunched a hand in her hair, fighting all your urges to cum all over her fingers. she smirked, "cat got your tongue, sweetie?"

"oh, fuck," you hissed, "fuck mary your fingers feel unbelievable."

"that's not what i was looking for you to say, angel, but i'll take it."

she smirked again, this time her lips pursing around your clit and causing a long, breathy moan to tumble from your mouth. the feeling bubbling away in your stomach grew with each flick of her tongue, each curl of her fingers, and it left you a wriggling mess.

you knew what she was waiting for you to say, her body was practically fizzing with the anticipation of hearing you tell her you loved her. it was her new favourite sound of yours to get off to, and she had plenty; but something about your voice was so soft, so subtle.

neither of you ever anticipated it would turn into this, loving each other, you weren't even sure how to love somebody. you both thought that hiding the relationship would be much harder, but it was significantly easier than you realised, less pressure, less worry. and mary didn't ever want you to stop saying it.

"you know you're not allowed to cum until you say it, darling, so you might as well get it over with."

"i love you, mary," every single time you said it, the words slipped out of your mouth easier than any other words ever did, and you hated how much it affected you both. "i love you, now, please - f-fuck - make me cum."

the smirk on mary's lips was unfathomable, and her fingers stretched you out deliciously as she continued to fuck you with them, desperate to stretch you out so she could slide her cock inside you. she stood up, her free hand wrapping itself around your neck instinctively, temporarily halting the bloodflow to your lungs as she squeezed in rhythm to her thrusting fingers.

"you really wanna cum that badly, huh?" she asked, lips scraping your ear with every word, "said you loved me twice in one sentence."

you were unsure whether mary was in a mood nice enough to let you cum now, and while you craved it desperately, you were there for her pleasure this evening, not the other way around.

"god, m-mary, please just let me cum, p-please," you choked, "i-i know you're gonna want my pussy nice 'nd wet, so p-please let me cum."

the noise mary made was akin to a growl, and she sped up the movement of her fingers, moving the angle so her thumb was rubbing your clit frantically. your legs threatened to buckle and you locked your hands around mary's neck, a moan tumbling from your mouth as a trail of her spit lingered on your bottom lip.

"god, not so fuckin' innocent now, are you? can't believe i found myself such a naughty little girl," her teeth nipped at your earlobe and she noticed the bead of sweat trickling down your forehead. "are you going to stand there moaning or are you going to cum for me, little one?"

the use of your favourite petname sent your head spiralling, and with that, your legs shook and your entire core tensed as your orgasm peaked. mary's name fell from your lips and she couldn't help but groan as your wetness flooded her fingers, trickling down her knuckles and the palm of her hand, and the sound of your release was music to her ears.

as mary pulled her fingers out of you, she gave you time to breathe, despite the look of disapproval on your face now that you weren't full. you watched her tongue slide across the skin of her palm and it made you feel dizzy.

"look at those little puppy eyes, my love," she held her fingers out in front of your mouth and let you suck them clean, "how could i ever say no to that face?"

your eyelids fluttered as you tasted yourself on mary's fingers, and when you licked them clean they pulled out of your mouth with a pop. she slipped her arms out of her bodysuit and you watched with eager, desperate eyes as it fell down her hips and to the floor. your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the sight of mary naked, it never felt real.

"what do you want, sweetheart?"

"hmm?"

"i know that look, it's the look you give me when you want to ask a question," she gave you the smirk again, "so, ask me the question."

"i, uh," you straightened yourself up, "i thought as your reward you could let me ride you."

mary leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, "oh, my darling girl, you can't ever be without my dick inside you, can you?"

you shook your head sheepishly, and mary said nothing as she walked to the bed around the corner of the room. there, on the corner of the bed, lay mary's favourite toys. a strap and its harness, lube and her grind pad, which was a lifesaver when she fucked you. it meant she could feel every sensation, and cum when you did.

"why don't you get my pussy nice 'n wet, darling, hm?" she tucked a curl of hair behind your ear, "and then we'll think about letting you ride my cock, okay?"

nodding, you sunk to your knees and steadied yourself between her legs. she was already preparing the strap harness, fiddling with the grind pad and waiting in anticipation for you to taste her.

she shivered when your tongue made contact with her clit, allowing herself to soak up the feeling by pausing her movements and letting a hand rest on your head.

you did exactly as you were told, getting her pussy nice and wet by smearing your spit all across her clit. she pulled you off, your enjoyment of eating her out short lived, but mary knew if she let you carry on a minute longer she would cave to her instincts and let you eat her.

"if i don't fuck you within the next five minutes, i think i'm going to die," mary hummed, "so please, my love, wait patiently for my cock."

as you sat and waited, you reached down to take off your stiletto's, but mary stopped you.

"don't you dare," she stood up, tightening the loops on her harness and leaning down, "you know how much i love fucking you in heels."

she sat back down on the bed, pulling you down - not completely, just so you were leaning over her frame with your hands on her thighs - and pulling you in for a kiss. it was hot, searing, and your hand instinctively pumped at the lube until you got enough to stroke the strap up and down, soaking it in the liquid so your descent would be easier.

mary groaned as if she could feel the friction through the strap-on, and it made you whimper.

"do you want me to face front or back?" you asked, pulling away for air. the answer was clear when mary's hand came down hard on your arse, the sting brutal but desperately needed. she rubbed the spot she slapped before repeating the action sequence multiple times.

"as much as i love looking at your pretty face, and that insane rack," mary chuckled, "you know i'm an arse girl, love."

you hummed, shifting your body and allowing her to get into position on her back. a whimper left your mouth when you saw her pumping the cock with her hand. she patted her upper thighs, a silent signal for you to lower yourself down, and as you got into a comfortable position, you threw your head over your shoulder and gripped the base of her cock with one hand.

the noises you made as you sunk yourself down on her cock were like music to mary's ears. the grind pad gave her the perfect friction, and as she grunted while you rocked to get comfortable, it felt as if the whole notion of you riding her dick were real.

"c'mon love," she pinched your hip, "don't have all night to waste rockin' back and forth on my cock, you know what i wanna see you doing."

"mhm," you slowly began to pull your hips up from the base of her cock, "yes daddy."

your reply earned you a slap to the bum as you sunk back down, and a sharp moan left your lips. "say it again, love, just once."

"y-yes, daddy."

slap.

"one more time," she stroked the reddening cheek with the palm of her hand, "for daddy's sake."

"yes, daddy."

slap.

mary let out a deep grunt, throwing her head back as you began to bounce up and down to a solidified rhythm, your knees already beginning to ache but this was your reward for mary, and she was not going to take over unless you collapsed from an orgasm; but with her grind pad in use, it was only a matter of time until mary's orgasm crept up on her anyway.

with every bounce of your hips, the pad stroked at mary's clit with a perfect amount of pressure, and a perfect angle, that everytime you pulled up she would whimper, or draw a sigh of relief that her orgasm hadn't hit her yet.

"fuckin' hell, love," she slapped the other cheek this time, "you really do have the most perfect arse, don't you?"

she couldn't help herself, her fingernails digging into the skin of your hips as she began to raise her own off of the bed, fucking up into you and watching your arse ripple with each thrust of her hips. your moans grew louder, unable to control your noise as you gripped onto mary's ankles.

she bent her legs at the knee to help take the weight off of your legs, allowing you to rest on her thighs a bit more. the change in angle of mary's legs changed the deepness of her cock, and it was so deep inside you now it almost made you feel sick.

she reached her hand around your waist so her fingertips brushed your stomach, "can you feel my cock in your stomach, baby? hm?" she waited for you to nod, and her fingers lowered to your clit, "want you to make yourself cum all over my cock, darlin', can you do that for me?"

"not gonna last much longer, mary?" you questioned with the little sarcasm you had left in you. a loud smack echoed the bedroom, and you immediately regretted your question.

"say something stupid like that again and you won't cum at all tonight," she pinched your stinging bum, "understood?"

"yes, mary."

she sat herself up now, so your back was pressed flush against her stomach, and instinctively you wrapped your arms around her neck. the angle of her legs changed again, spread out ever so slightly on the bed so she could hold her balance within her core.

with this angle, mary's fingers were able to pinch at your nipples, and you were so caught up in the feeling of rocking back and forth, and the sound of mary's moaning that you completely forgot you were supposed to be rubbing your clit.

"don't see much going on with your fingers, love," she teased, "please don't make me pull out of this tight little cunt now, and just do as i say, hm?"

you nodded, your index and middle fingers immediately circling the bud of nerves that had you whimpering immediately. mary's lips traced your neck, and without even giving you time to complain, her teeth sunk into the skin and softly nibbled. mary's tongue soothed the burn of her teeth on your neck right as she dragged her fingers under your nipples, making you yearn for an orgasm.

you could tell she was close, her core was beginning to become lose and her legs were beginning to twitch, and your orgasm was on the cusp.

"m-mary-"

"-wait," she breathed, her lips trailing back up to your ear, "wait for me, love, 'nd we'll cum together."

"i-i don't know if i can hold -"

"-you can, and you will," she pinched your nipples, "i'm close, but the longer you talk, the longer this will take."

you nodded, biting down on your lip to fight the urges of begging. a few more rocks of your hips and mary would be toppling over the edge.

"oh, fuck, Y/N," she hissed, "ready to cum all over my cock?"

you nodded aggressively, a feeble 'yes' tumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to cum. mary stilled when her orgasm arrived, allowing your hips to do the friction work against her clit, your name falling from her mouth in a desperate groan.

her noises triggered your orgasm, and as much as you tried to ride your way through it, your hips stilled and your fingers on your clit carried you the rest of the way through. you didn't even clock that mary had moved her hands to your hips so she could steady you, and her lips kissed soft lines along your shoulders.

"i'm never going to get over that sound," she said, her hands moving from your hips to around your waist, hugging your body close to her, "i can't believe you're mine."

you managed to wriggle from her grip and lay down against the pillows, with mary following suite. her body cocooned you from the cold air, and her hands resumed their position across your waist.

"i can't believe you're mine," you repeated her words, and turned your neck to the side so you could kiss her nose, "but, i, uh, i think jill knows about us."

the look on mary's face didn't change. in fact, she was relieved she didn't have to hide you anymore. she wanted to show you off, and she was thankful it was almost out in the open now.

"i don't care," she hummed, "maybe it's a good idea for us to get it out in the open now, we've been doing it long enough."

"i like that idea," you spun your whole body around in her embrace at this point, and the smile on your face told her all she needed to know. "i'm so proud of you, maz, nobody deserved to win tonight more than you, i love you."

a heartwarming smile came to mary's face, and you relished in the way you still made her cheeks blush.

"i love you too, darling," she kissed your nose and nuzzled her head into your neck.

"now please, lets get under the covers because i'm freezing my tits off."

[nkplanet]

WHICH TROPE ARE YOU?

PAIRING: enhypen x gn!reader SUMMARY: what trope do you and the enhypen members share? WARNINGS: a smidge of angst in jungwon + heeseung’s, all set in high school apart from jay + heeseung’s, implied toxic parents in jungwon’s, written on my phone so the formatting might be weird

NOTE: thank u sm for all the love on my last post and 155 followers!! i rlly appreciate you guys 🫶🫶 also i’m definitely gonna rewrite some of these as actual fics bc i love them (looking at u jungwon and niki)

— HEESEUNG 희승 — second chance romance personally i’m not a big fan of this trope but it just fits heeseung so well like ??? hello yes i would give u a second chance. there’s no doubt in my mind that cheating would not be involved, instead it was something that happened when you two were young and immature, but when you meet again you’ve grown and can continue to do so together

it had ended awfully the first time. neither of you were particularly mature, and a heated argument had caused your entire relationship had come crashing down. sixteen year old you would always regret the way you gave heeseung the cold shoulder for a reason you couldn’t even remember, and the way you had both yelled and screamed at each other. you hadn’t spoken for years when, all of a sudden, you bumped into him in a cafe. then at work. in the park. after six years of no contact, he was everywhere. it was like the universe was telling you to give him another chance. eventually, your walls crumbled, and heeseung made his way back into your heart. the two of you had never been happier.

others under the cut!

— JAY 제이 — fake dating jay is perfect for this trope imo, especially when it comes to fake dating at a wedding. put me in a psych ward bc whenever i think abt him in a suit i go insane. also your whole family would love him because he’s such a gentleman. he’s so perfect

it was your aunts wedding, and all of your siblings were bringing their significant others as plus ones. your brother had joked about how you’d be the only single one in the wedding party and, rather than face the humiliation, you lied and told him you did in fact have a boyfriend. it was a lie you forgot about until two weeks before the wedding, when your aunt mentioned being excited to meet the mysterious man. you panicked, running to tell jay about your issue. while you were contemplating telling your family that the mysterious man had broken up with you, jay said “why don’t i pretend to be your boyfriend? just for the day?” except, his fake boyfriend touches didn’t feel very fake. your aunt remarked that the two of you reminded her of herself and your new uncle when they were young. by the end of the night, you and jay were sharing kisses outside the reception. yeah, fake boyfriend my ass.

— JAKE 제이크 — you fell first, he fell harder jake seems like such a loser (affectionately) that he’d be the one to fall first, but just imagine that he doesn’t realise his feelings are romantic. he just thinks everyone sees their best friends that way and when he finds out otherwise? oh he’s head over heels in love with you. such a loser. i love him

the way you and jake interact is far from platonic. you had developed a crush on him when you were just fifteen, and since then you'd been trying to drop hints. when he started reciprocating your admittedly flirtatious gestures, you thought you had a chance, but he never made a move. in fact, jake never realised that he shared those feelings until one of his friends pointed out that the two of you were incredibly flirty with each other. he thought everyone saw their best friends as gorgeous, as an angel sent from above, as someone who they'd willingly spend the rest of their life with. after that it was hard for him to see you in any light other than romantic. when you asked him out he practically screamed yes. he is absolutely head over heels in love

— SUNGHOON 성훈 — opposites attract i was gonna pick grumpy x sunshine for him but he’s not exactly grumpy so opposites attract it is!! he’s reserved and only really lets loose around those he considers close, whereas you’re loud and bubbly with lots of friends. one of my fav tropes for a reason

sunghoon’s attention was brought to you via your laughter. it was loud and bright, and he’d never heard anything like it. since then, he’d yearned for the sound. though he lacked the confidence to actually ask you out, he began seeking your company. he’d study with you in the library, would offer to walk you home. things that friends do. you, on the other hand, were absolutely smitten. sunghoon was quiet and a little mysterious. you could never read him, and yet you were absolutely entranced by him. you thought he was absolutely gorgeous, perhaps one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. one day, while sunghoon was walking you home in the rain, you’d stopped and turned to face him. “what are we?” you’d asked. sunghoon remembers blanking immediately, not knowing how to reply. instead of words, he answered you with a kiss.

— SUNOO 선우 — best friend’s brother okay but imagine: you go over to ur best friends house and end up gossiping with their brother and all of a sudden,, he’s soooo attractive? and then he starts developing this crush but he can’t date you because you’re his siblings best friend. there’s probably be some secret dating involved (which i’m also a sucker for tbh)

you'd been harbouring a crush on sunoo for a while now, never acting on it because he was your best friend's brother. you looked forward to the weekly gossip sessions that the two of you shared when your friend left you together arguably more than you looked forward to seeing your friend (but don't tell her that). little did you know, sunoo felt the same. fleeting glances and not-so-platonic touches began growing between you two. eventually, sunoo asked you out. you wanted to say yes so badly but couldn't betray your friend like that. instead, you began dating in secret. it was only two months of sneaking around, 'jokingly' flirting, and kissing in places where she wouldn't see before she finally exploded, yelling that you two were gross but had her blessing. going public only increased the pda by tenfold, and people quickly grew sick of your sappy conversations. not that either of you cared, of course.

— JUNGWON 정원 — academic rivals turned lovers [full fic!] ACADEMIC RIVALS TURNED LOVERS!!!!! i love this trope sm and i think it fits won so well. i was gonna originally give this to niki but he wasn’t rlly in school. so. jungwon it is!! i can see you two as the top two in your year and always competing when one day it all comes crashing down for you. jungwon is suddenly? nice? and we go from there 🤭🤭

yang jungwon had never been the nicest person to you. sure, he was never really mean per-se, but the two of you were so competitive that nothing said was particularly nice. you and jungwon seemed to constantly be on par with each other academically, consistently being the top two students in your year. in english and sciences, you usually pulled ahead, while jungwon excelled in maths and other subjects. the rivalry between you was so tense that even the teachers tried to calm it down but to no avail. the reason behind your competitiveness was your parents. the pressure they put on you was immense, and one day you just broke. you’d had a fight with them, and the next day flunked a biology test. your grades began slipping from then on, and jungwon began to take notice. he stopped making quips, instead resorting to leaving some snacks or study tips on your desk when he thought you weren’t looking. he began giving you sympathetic looks until you eventually confronted him, telling him you didn’t want his pity. it wasn’t pity, though, it was worry. your relationship changed after that, no longer rivals but a little more than friends.

— NI-KI 니키 — childhood friends to lovers/first love OKAY HEAR ME OUT. u were childhood friends. niki realises his feelings and he’s all like oh no i can’t feel this way abt my bff :( and tried to pull away from u but ur like ??? yes tf and that’s how u become lovers

niki had been your closest friend for longer than you could remember. in both of your houses there sat baby pictures of the two of you together. you’d grown up together, going to all the same schools and most of the same clubs. in highschool, you were known as inseparable - if someone wanted one of you, they got both. but one day, niki started pulling away. it was fine, you told yourself, he was just growing up. you both were. but when he stopped answering your calls and texts and started actively avoiding you, you were hurt. you’d been by each others sides for so long that you didn’t really know how to live without him. the truth was, he’d discovered feelings that he’d never felt about anyone before. he knew he shouldn’t feel like this about his best friend, but he couldn’t help it. he was miserable without you, so much so that his friends were telling him to just ask you out. they told him that you definitely felt the same, so he took the leap. and thank god he did. you’re his first love, his everything.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi if you do poly can I please request yandere Alastor and Charlie both fallen for the hotel new resident please , hcs if possible if not a Drabble would be fun to read 💗

I was sharing thoughts with @okchijt late at night since Hazbin is such a brainrot for me rn. So some of what I talk about, such as the dynamic between Darling and Alastor/Charlie, is from what I discussed with them.

I took my own creative liberties with this request... sorry if this isn't quite what you wanted :( LOVE THIS SHOW!

Yandere! Alastor + Charlie sharing a Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Sharing (Alastor would be ambiguous due to Canon)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive/Protective behavior, Sadism, Degrading behavior/Ownership, Yanderes sharing, Stalking, Clingy behavior, Imprisonment, Forced companionship/relationship.

So, the idea I came up with is this;

You're the new resident hoping to be redeemed, yes, but you have a past.

Somehow in someway... you have a deal with Alastor.

You were silently hoping that coming to the Hotel and being redeemed would free you.

Yet you end up coming face to face with Alastor the moment you enter.

Now, Charlie can be either intention with you.

Alastor... the way I intend to write Alastor is something dubious.

His intentions can't be read as exclusively platonic or romantic.

He has his own intentions... ones no one but himself can read.

(I will usually write him like this due to him being Asexual in canon... although according to research, even that has a range/spectrum)

As the new resident and a sinner, Charlie naturally wants to redeem you.

Although, she may not learn until later that Alastor has you on a leash like Husk.

If you aren't a soul claimed by Alastor before you enter the Hotel, you will be at some point.

Alastor has an idea of what your plan is... he doesn't like the idea of letting you out of his grasp.

In response, you're allowed to live and work at the Hotel... "for redemption".

Charlie is clueless at first of the tension between you and Alastor.

Although Husk would understand your issue... even if he isn't big on the whole redemption thing.

Just another pet meant to do tricks.

The two are complete opposites, even when they eventually start sharing.

Charlie is too nice for her own good and nearly smothers her obsession at times.

Alastor is, like I've said, mysterious.

You don't know what he wants exactly... but he owns you and your soul.

When Alastor sees Charlie's obsession towards you, he'd share to keep her happy.

In reality you are definitely still his... regardless on if Charlie wants to help you be "better".

Alastor is a reminder of who you once were... the result of a bet gone wrong... you can't scrub the past away that easily.

You're only in here because Alastor's allowing you, anyways.

Eventually Charlie will know of the dynamic between you and Alastor.

Especially if she sees him pull your chain.

The fact that one way or another you got under Alastor's grasp upsets Charlie at first.

But Alastor convinces her of the benefits.

Alastor knows Charlie couldn't dare see you go if you were redeemed.

Charlie goes to deny such a thought... but Alastor cuts her off.

He's seen how Charlie acts around you.

She follows you around like a puppy at times, always asking for your approval and clinging around you.

She loves you... be that as friends or something more twisted.

However... she won't have to worry about that if you just stay here.

That way, Alastor gets to keep your soul under his control... and Charlie gets to keep seeing you.

It's not like Heaven will let her visit.

Charlie may actually be won over by this... resulting in them "sharing" with each other.

It's yet another deal, you now being with "two" masters.

You feel betrayed that Charlie would choose not to redeem you just to keep you to herself.

Alastor merely stares you down with a smug aura, you can feel the chain around your neck even if he didn't manifest it.

No need for kidnapping in this situation, Alastor already has you in his control.

He can keep you in the Hotel with Charlie, even better since his role is playing protector of the place.

Yeah, no other Overlord is coming near you.

Charlie doesn't even like the idea of Alastor "owning" you... but it's better than someone else... hopefully.

At least with Alastor you're in the Hotel.

Your only "solace" is speaking with people like Husk or Angel Dust... at least they understand such a plight somewhat.

Charlie tries to regain your trust the best she can.

She feels horrible for Alastor essentially exposing her true desires.

She clings to you, crying and whimpering about you hating her.

You're sort of forced to comfort her as Vaggie glares at you if you don't.

A silent warning to play nice with the Princess.

Alastor finds all this amusing.

To think you had a chance at leaving?

Face it, outside of the Hotel isn't safe without him and Charlie.

Going to Heaven? Out of the question!

Alastor has eyes on you all the time... even if he didn't, Charlie certainly follows you around even if you don't know it.

You're bound to him.

Alastor's merely playing nice by allowing Charlie to have you.

It's all deals in Hell!

Unfortunately... deals define your life... as you learn the hard way once Heaven is torn from your grasp.

"What's wrong, darling? Upset your little plan didn't work the way you wanted it to?"

"Please! Please, I'm sorry! I just... love you too much to let you go to Heaven... you'll be happy and safe here... with me and Alastor! Okay? Don't look at me like that!"

[justyouraverage-simp]

she's in good hands// t.s, s.r

pairing: steve rogers x reader (romantic), tony tark x daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: tony being a bit of a douche to steve, tooth rotting happy relationships

summary: tony was very protective of everyone he cared about but his daughter meant the most to him out of anyone so when he has to face the music that shes growing up he finds it hard to accept especially when it comes to boys but not just any boy captain america

*gif not mine*

Y/N swore she could never love anyone as much as she loved her dad, he was the only man she needed in her life. The two were peas in a pod, they were best friends and after Y/N got her heart broken who was there to pick up the pieces? Her dad.

Everyone swore Tony wouldn't be a present father, that he would send his child off the first chance he got. Just like his parents did to him. But Tony used that to be better, he became the worlds best dad at least in Y/N's eyes and to him that's all that mattered.

****

When the avengers were formed they all was told to keep their hands to themselves when it came to Y/N. No one risked to see where the line was because Tony had never been so passionate about something in his life. His little girl (although she is now 24, she will always be the little girl he used to play tea parties with and dress up with her like princesses) was his world, she saved him when he lost his parents, she gave him a reason to keep going and he will always protect her.

What Tony wasn't prepared for was her getting to the age where she was interested in boys and becoming more curious about them and her feelings. She didn't have a mother figure in life really other than Pepper then eventually Nat became an auntie/ older sister to her, so it was down to him to teach her everything and it was the first time Pepper had seen Tony unsure of himself.

Y/N went through her fair share of rough relationships, the worst being a three year relationship that ended with her being cheated on. Tony was furious seeing his girl crying over someone. She swore to him she was done with men, that he was the only man for her, the only one she needed. She was happy being single and free. That was until 2011 when she met Steve Rogers.

*****

Y/N and Steve both agreed to keep the relationship a secret to start with so the two could find their footing without the whole world watching their every move. And also so they could work out how to tell Tony without putting him or Steve into an early grave.

"Hey, how would you feel about telling my dad about us?" Y/N said looking up at Steve who had his arm draped over her shoulder as they cuddled into the sofa.

"As long as you want to I'll do whatever you want sweetheart you know that" Steve says.

"I know I'm just nervous"

"I know you are but we love each other right?"

"Yeah"

"So your dad will see that and how he hasn't noticed yet I don't know but we will show him that I'm not like the others" Steve says placing a kiss onto Y/N's forehead.

It was a few hours later and Jarvis had made Y/N and Steve aware Tony was back from his mission with Nat and Clint. Everyone meet in the living room to welcome the three back when Tony looked up at his daughter suspiciously.

"Why are you being weird?" Tony says bluntly.

"Wow nice to see you too dad"

"Honey you know what I mean, your quiet and your not as happy to see me" "I just need to talk to you when you get a minute"

"You can talk to me whenever you need, I'm your dad"

"In private please?"

Tony and Y/N walk to her bedroom, Steve following behind sneakily to be there for Y/N.

"What's going on kiddo"

"I'm just going to come out and say it" Y/N says running a finger through her hair "I'm dating Steve"

"As in Captain America?"

"No Steve from down the road, yes Captain America"

Steve takes this a time to walk through the door and wraps his hand over Y/N's.

"No" Tony says quickly

"No?" Steve says "What do you mean no?"

"I mean nope, not happening, over my dead body. How else do you want me to say it, I can say it in another language if that helps you Cap"

"Dad, I wasn't asking you if I can, I'm telling you because I don't want to hide him. I want to hold his hand or sit next to him on the sofa without having too worry someone will catch on. I want you to be able to accept that I'm not your little girl anymore I've grown up" Y/N says getting more annoyed at her dad.

Seeing how passionate his daughter is makes him realise she loves Steve, not in the same way she loves Tony but the way he loves Pepper. It made him realise he will always be the man who taught her what to expect from men, to not accept anything less than 100%. Steve however he showed her what 100% is, he showed her the meaning of true love. He chose her and he would risk everything to make sure she knew how much she loved him.

Tony looked between the two of them "Rogers promise me something?"

"Yeah Tony?" Steve says unsure of what he's signing up for.

"Promise me you'll look after my girl, she's my world and if you hurt her I will not be held responsible for what happens"

"I promise, I will always protect her and I will always do what's right by her" Steve says looking down at Y/N lovingly, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"Just because I know your together doesn't mean the PDA can come out thank you very much" Tony says as he leaves Y/N's bedroom shacking his head.

*****

That evening Y/N is cuddled back up to Steve on the sofa dozing off slightly as the Avengers all have a movie night which was tradition when someone came back from a mission.

"Tony I'm surprised you haven't blasted Steve to another planet for touching Y/N" Nat says looking over at the two.

"Nope, she's in good hands and I'm okay with that" Tony says as he watches Steve admire his girl sleeping.

[remushrts]

evan or barty comforting the reader after they hear someone talking about them??

Catharsis

— pairing: barty crouch jr x reader

— a/n: hii, thank you for the request!! you didn't specify if you wanted that platonic or romantic, so it can be read either way! also i chose barty because this is a little self indulging and i took it in a bit of an other direction, hope it's okay anyway

— warnings: inciting violence (because it's barty), reader (literally) breaks a tv (don't try this at home please), not proof read

When the bedroom door unlocks with a soft click, you don't know who you'd expect to enter, but definitely, it was not Barty. He walks over to you, eyes falling to your watery ones as he gives you a smile, only a bit softer than usual. "So, who do I need to beat?" He asks, sitting on the floor by your side without a care in the world.

"Nobody." You sniff, chuckling softly. "Good to know you're up for it though."

"Yeah, hell I am." You can tell his a bit stiffer too, he's not used to the whole thing, you think. Comforting people, being gentle with them, it was never Barty's strength. "Wanna talk about it? Or smash a tv?" You frown, his offer is tempting, but strange.

"Whose tv?" You ask, laughing softly. The sound is almost a huff, the only hint of humor in the soft curls of your lips.

"Don't worry about it." He smirks, propping himself up on his feet and holding out a hand for you, his eyes exhibiting a dangerous glint to them. "So, you wanna smash a tv? We can find the fucker's house too if you feel like breaking a window."

And yeah, maybe you do.

For Barty's credit, he did tell you you could break a tv. Still, you're a bit surprised as he walks you to his backyard and a full television stands on two bricks, looking brand new except from a few scratches on the led screen. Barty smirks at your reaction. "It's like a rage room, but I don't have a room to worry about cleaning up after." He explains, picking a bat from the floor and swirling it lazily, pretending to hit an invisible ball.

"Did you steal this?" You can't help but ask. Following after him, you can't help but notice the glass shards and wood splinters littering the floor, as well as a few bottle necks here and there.

"Of course not!" He feigns offense like the worst actor in the world. "It was on Evan's flat when he moved, but it's broken. Also, it reeks of beer, he thinks the bastard that owned it dumped a few cans on it and it broke down. He said it's not worth fixing, thus this baby sitting on my yard."

You only nod. Breaking a tv with Barty was not how you imagined your day would end, but you were not one to complain. At least you weren't crying yourself to sleep in your room.

"So, what's it gonna be, princess?" You open your mouth to ask what he's talking about, only to see him holding out the baseball bat and another brick on his hands. "Choose your weapon." You pick the baseball bat, and he handles you a pair of safety googles, to which you raise a brown. "What? I'm not an animal." As soon as you've secured the googles on your eyes, Barty lowers his own. "To who do we own the honor?"

You know what he's asking, the name has been stuck in your throat since he first asked, aching to get out like an ich you can't reach. You don't mean to feel as frustrated as you do with them, but you can't help yourself. You shout their names loudly, raising your bat in the air.

"And their little fucking shit talking friends!" Barty completes loudly, because of course he cracked it the moment he saw your state, raising a crow bar in the air, red painting chipped at both ends, you're not sure why or how he came do possess one of those, but you don't question either.

Instead, you swing your bat in the air, smashing the tv screen with a loud noise, glass shattering at your feet. Barty smiles by your side, and for a moment, you forget why you were so upset in the first place.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: The Devildom had been your home for the last two years. As such, you were confident in your ability to carry out a few errands on your own every once in a while. So when you were told that none of the brothers could accompany you in your little shopping trip for project supplies, you were fine with it. You could handle getting those supplies on your own, you had reassured them. So how did a simple outing turn into such a disaster? Pairing: OM!Brothers with GN!MC (can be read as platonic or romantic) Genre: Slight angst, Hurt/Comfort TW: Mc gets hurt, mentions of injuries, mention of blood in Satan and Asmo's part, Satan and Asmo's part is a bit darker than the others, I ran out of ideas by the time I got to the twins

You leaned against a stone wall, panting heavily. Your eyes darted this way and that way, and a lump formed in your throat.

How did a simple outing turn into this?

You sucked in a breath, gingerly lifting the edge of your shirt to inspect your side. A big bruise decorated your lower torso, its redness a garish and painful reminder of the very dangerous situation you had barely made out of.

The Devildom had been your home for the last two years. As such, you were confident in your ability to carry out a few errands on your own every once in a while. After all, you couldn't always rely on your friends to follow you along everywhere, even if they said they didn't mind. So when you were told that none of the brothers could accompany you in your little shopping trip for project supplies, you were fine with it. You could handle getting those supplies on your own, you had reassured them.

And now you were here, hiding in one of the Devildom's many alleyways from the demons that were clearly after your life.

"How could you let them get away like that?!"

A whimper left your lips as you tried to make sense of where exactly you were in Devildom, and how to get back to the HOL without getting caught by your bloodthirsty pursuers.

"... Did you hear that?"

"Yes."

You cursed the naturally superior senses of demons, breaking out into a run in the opposite direction of the voices. You could see streetlights and hear the hustle and bustle associated with Devildom's marketplace. Maybe you would be able to lose them in the midst of the crowd there?

You could hear footsteps behind you, internally thanking that you had taken up on Beel's offers to work out together. Your stamina couldn't fail you, not when those demons had cast a spell that locked your magic and your influence over your pacts. In other words, everything you knew and had was practically useless.

Just a little more, please!

Please!

The universe seemed to take pity on you finally as you saw a familiar figure in the crowd. You could almost cry from the relief, calling out his name as loud as you could.

Lucifer

"LUCIFER!"

Lucifer did not know what to think when he heard you yell his name, followed by you almost barreling into him. If not for his instincts being as quick and precise as they are, you both would have fallen to the ground. And he intended to let you know just how reckless and dangerous that was, at least until he saw you clutching your side with pain on your face. The concern that he'd pushed to the back of his mind in favour of scolding you came back in full force, and he cupped your face, using his magic to soothe you and check what was wrong.

"MC? What is the matter, hm?"

The absolute concern and care in his voice caused the dam to burst, and all of the panicked and scared feelings that you had set aside in favour of finding your way back home appeared in the form of tears. Lucifer pulled you into his arms, the way you were crying, hiccupping and stuttering over your words as you told him everything making him tense up slightly.

Once you were calm enough, he took you to a nearby restaurant, paying for a private area. He ordered a few dishes, and while you waited, he asked you to describe the demons' appearance. He kept you next to him, tracing circles on the back of your hand closest to him as you did, carefully listening (and recording everything on his DDD). When the food finally came, he asked you to start eating, claiming he wasn't hungry yet.

Lucifer hummed reading Mammon's message. Out of all of his brothers, he knew he could count on Mammon to show some restraint and bring the lowly things that dared to harm his human in front of Lucifer, without immediately killing them on sight. He would prefer to not tell his brothers of this incident, but one look at you and they would figure out something was wrong.

Lucifer: Mammon.

Lucifer: Some demons tried to harm MC. This is a description of them. Find them.

att. recording

Mammon: On it.

"Lucifer?" Garnet eyes flew upwards to meet yours, instincts still on high alert for the first sign of discomfort. "Yes, MC?"

You lightly raised your fork to his lips, a wordless request to feed him. Peculiar, that even when you were the one shaken in spirit and hurt physically, you thought about his well-being. It was nowhere near the time he had his lunch. He knew it, and he knew that you did as well. But, he decided to indulge you, letting you feed him and yourself, while he used his magic to counter the spell cast on you and speed up your healing process.

Lucifer escorted you back to the HOL, his hand on the small of your back as he assured you that Levi would get you your supplies from Akuzon. As you neared the house, you could make out Satan standing at the door, a serious look on his face that melted into a gentle smile the moment your eyes met. Lucifer handed you over to Satan after pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Rest, my dear. I have some business to attend to, but I should be home before dinner." He looked as Satan ushered you inside, Asmo's fussing over you audible through the closed doors. Lucifer turned and walked away, eager to see who were foolish enough to try to harm his human, his master.

Mammon

"MAMMON!"

"Who- MC?!?!"

Mammon nearly had a heart attack when you yelled his name. When he turned and saw you sprinting toward him with no sign of slowing down? He was scared out of his mind. Before he knew it, he had rushed forward to meet you halfway, causing the two of you to collide fairly painfully. You didn't fall over like most would think. Unfortunately, in his well meaning attempt to stabilize you, Mammon accidently squeezed right on your bruise, causing you to jolt away from him with a pained yelp. "Woah- Are ya okay?!" he asked, face concerned as his eyes jumped from looking you up and down to scanning the crowd for any possible dangers.

You desperately tried to stop yourself from crying as you quickly gave him a brief summary of what had happened to you. His eyes darkened at the mention of the bruise, muttering apologies and incoherent swears as he pulled you into his embrace.

Mammon let out a low whistle, and the next thing you knew, there was a crow sitting on his shoulder. You could swear it looked sad as it saw you clutching onto Mammon, who spoke to you in a calming manner. "Look, I know ya probably don't want to talk about this, and I really don't blame ya... but do you remember anything about those... vermin that dared to hurt you?" he asked you, one hand rubbing your back ad he glared at any demon that stared at the two of you. His cheeks were darkened slightly, though whether that was from anger or holding you so close, you didn't know. Still, you answered his question to the best of your ability, while Mammon and his familiar listened attentively. After you were done, Mammon decided it was time to go back home, giving his familiar some instructions before letting it go.

Mammon refused to let go of you the entire walk back to the HOL. Once you reached home, he walked past all of his brothers, ignoring them till they two of you reached his room. Opening the door, he murmured for you to go in and rest while he talked to his brothers.

It took him a while before he came back to you. You were sitting on the couch staring off into nothing. Mammon sighed as he walked over to you, sitting beside you. His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you in close. "Whatcha thinking 'bout, Treasure?"

You let out a shaky sigh, pushing yourself back into Mammon like he was the only thing keeping you from completely coming undone. Mammon worried at the lack of response from you as he brought his other hand to hold you properly. "You're safe now, MC. Lucifer'll take care of everything once the kids find them," he said, smiling when you chuckled at him referring to his crows as his kids. That's how the two of you stayed, till Levi came to inform him that the demons to tried to hurt you were caught.

You had fallen asleep a while back, so Mammon picked you up, careful not to wake you, and placed you on his bed. After tucking you in properly and making sure you were as comfortable as possible, he followed Levi out of his room. It was time to teach a lesson to the ones who dared to take his human from him.

Leviathan

"LEVI!"

Levi had not anticipated leaving the house would result in you barreling into him in one of Devildom's busiest streets. In his surprise at your shout, he transformed into his demon form, his tail wrapping around you securely as you both fell onto the ground.

"Ouch... M-Mc? Are you okay?" Levi asked, his voice slightly shaky as his heart raced inside his chest. You laid on top of him, unmoving, which concerned him more than anything else. He lightly shook you, hoping to get a reaction out of you, "Mc?"

His heart calmed a bit when he felt you tightening your hold on his clothes, but immediately started racing at twice the previous speed when he saw you shaking in his arms. Gently, he pried your face away from its hiding spot on his chest, hands shaking as he tilted your face up to look at you.

Levi stopped breathing when he saw your eyes filled with tears, his mind blanking out on everything else as his gaze narrowed in on your face; more specifically, the little cut you had gotten on your bottom lip.

"Who... who dared to put their filthy hands on you?" he asked, in a low and dangerous voice. He wasn't the otaku Levi you knew and loved anymore. Right now, he was Leviathan, the third of the Seven Deadly Sins, and the General of Hell's Navy. But he made you feel incredibly safe as he tenderly cupped your face in his hands, as if he was handling one of his beloved figurines.

As you narrated the entire incident, Levi began to grow more and more agitated. In between hissing that this is why he prefers to shop online and fretting over your well-being, he somehow managed to flood the market square and summon Lotan.

Lotan, ever in tune with his master's wishes and emotions, sensed the demonic trails left on you by the spell, and went off to hunt the demons down, while Levi stayed behind with you.

Once Levi calmed down a little, he insisted on taking you back to the House of Lamentation. He knew Lotan would find the demons for him, toying with them to keep itself occupied while waiting for further instructions from its master. As he walked you home, he was quiet. In his mind, he was thinking of the ways he could inflict the most gruesome of pain on those that sought to harm his Henry.

Maybe he could convince you to move into his room with him. That way, he would be able to keep an eye on you better...

For now, though, he would stick to taking you home, and buying you whatever you needed off of Akuzon.

Satan and Asmodeus

"ASMO!"

Asmo turned at the sound of your voice, an excited smile on his face that dropped the second he saw the panic on yours as you rushed into his open arms. He let out an oof, the force from your throwing yourself at him making him lose his footing and stumble, only to be saved by Satan standing behind him.

"Mc, darling!" "Mc, are you alright?" Both the demons spoke at once, two pairs of eyes trained on your figure as they both sensed the panic lingering in you. Asmo lightly trailed his hand over your back, pressing you close to his chest as he asked, "What happened, darling?"

Through stuttered breaths and coughs you told them that you were being pursued by some demons, mentioning the bruise and the fact that they cast a spell on you to leave you helpless. You watched as something dark and lethal flashed in Asmodeus' eyes before your attention was captured by Satan abruptly leaving your side.

Before you could go after him, Asmo placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let him take care of this, darling. Why don't I take you back home and help you relax? You've had a very difficult day, after all." When you hesitated, he gave you a small pout, his eyes shining brightly in a way that reminded you of a puppy. "Please~ Let me pamper you, help you forget all of this? Satan will be fine..." he said, voice slightly whiny as he clung to your arm, careful not to aggravate any of your injuries.

When you finally relented and let him walk you back to the House of Lamentation, you missed the way Asmo looked off into the direction Satan had left for a brief moment, a cruel fascination in his eyes.

Once home, he quickly ushered you into his private bathroom, running a warm bath for you and adding the scents he knew you preferred. He left you alone in the bathroom after ensuring you had everything you needed, and telling you to call for him if you wanted his company as he shut the door behind him.

Asmo thoroughly pampered you when you walked out of the bathroom, refreshed and somewhat relaxed after your bath. He smothered you with his affection, but you didn't mind. You never did.

It was quite late when Satan returned, walking into Asmo's room to find you sleeping peacefully, your head on Asmo's lap as the demon ran his fingers through your soft hair. Satan smiled, his hand almost resting on your cheek, when Asmo smacked his hand away. "Don't get that filthy blood on them," he said, his usual bubbly nature nowhere to be found as he glared at the blood decorating Satan's hands. Satan nodded in understanding, before leaving the room to get cleaned up.

When he returned, he saw Asmo gently setting a pillow under your head and tucking you in his bed. The Avatar of Lust stood straight after ensuring you were still sleeping, before turning to his brother. "I hope you left some for me?~"

Satan smirked. "I did. I even went ahead and strapped them into those machines you like to use." Asmo giggled, the sound tainted with a sadistic sort of glee.

"This will be fun~"

Beelzebub and Belphegor

"BEEL!"

Beel let out a confused hum as he turned. His eyes widened, protective instincts rampant as he saw you running towards him, and the bag of chips in his hand fell to the ground as he moved to get to you first.

You crashed into him, his arms winding around your back to keep you from falling. "Mc?" came Belphie's voice, as he looked over to where you and Beel were standing. The youngest demon's eyes narrowed in on the slight trembling of your body as you caught your breath in Beel's arms.

Beel looked down at you with a concerned look, then back at his twin. Belphie approached the two of you, gently touching your back and providing the comfort that you so desperately needed. He observed you carefully, trying to pry out what had happened, while Beel scanned the surroundings for any threats.

Soon enough, you told them everything. Belphie's eyes hardened, causing you to flinch at the murderous glint in his eyes. Unbeknownst to you, Beel shared similar feelings with his twin.

"Let's get you home," Belphie said, his voice gentle when he addressed you, with his words making it clear it was not a suggestion he would let you talk him out of. Beel nodded, and the three of you started the journey home.

The entire walk home, Beel did most of the talking, telling you of the doughnuts he and Belphie had gotten from Uncle Demon's. Belphie was content with mostly listening, adding his two cents whenever Beel asked him something.

As soon as you guys reached the House of Lamentation, you were pulled into the attic for a nap by the Avatar of Sloth, while his twin went and informed Lucifer of everything.

When Beel came up to the attic, he found you peacefully sleeping, your head on Belphie's arm and your legs tangled with the youngest. Belphie lay awake, his vibrant eyes watching over your sleeping figure vigilantly.

Beel got into the bed as well, protectively curling around your back as his hand rested on your hip. No words needed to be exchanged between the two of them; they knew that they would soon have the people who tried to harm their human in their grasp.

And once they did, they would not hesitate to show exactly why they were lauded as two of the seven rulers of the devildom.

[antianakin]

i saw that you put finnrey as your “most potential” ship and i was just wondering what makes you see them as more romantic over a platonic relationship? especially considering the finnpoe presence lol

and to be clear, definitely not judging you or saying everyone has to prefer finnpoe, i just haven’t seen very many people talk about finnrey as a romantic pair, or at least i haven’t interacted with it, so i’m curious for your take :)

I'm going to start this with a disclaimer: I do not dislike Finnpoe at all, I actually quite enjoy Finnpoe as a ship, I think that Finn and Poe's dynamic in the movies is (mostly) enjoyable, and I do think there is an obvious foundation for the interpretation of them as romantic based on what we see in the films.

Finnrey are pretty obviously set up as a future romantic couple in TFA, to the point that the person who wrote the novelization has said that that is how he wrote them because it seemed REALLY REALLY OBVIOUS that that's where they were going with that relationship with what he had seen of it and he was pretty surprised when future films didn't follow up on that. There is arguably more explicit set-up for Finnrey in the first film of their trilogy than there was for Han/Leia (and also Luke/Leia since their sibling relationship wasn't established yet when ANH came out) and even for Anidala in their respective first films together.

It's Rey that Finn goes back for, fulfilling a place in her life that she's been waiting on for literal years, becoming the first person Rey feels like she can trust. Finn gets jealous when he thinks that Rey is going back to a boyfriend on Jakku. There's an entire running gag that is about the two of them holding hands, something usually pretty connected to romantic couples. Finn only joins the Rebellion because he cares enough about Rey to want to go back to save her (and he also answers his call of destiny by doing so, as visualized by him being given and then using Anakin's lightsaber as part of that decision). Rey answers her own call to destiny when she calls Anakin's lightsaber to her, something she only does in order to save Finn after Kylo has injured him. The two of them impact each other's storylines in a way that NO ONE ELSE DOES.

I also personally feel like Finn and Rey were originally built as CO-LEADS in TFA, neither one was supposed to be "the main character" over the other. They were BOTH intended to be Force sensitive, BOTH intended to become Jedi, BOTH intended to be the awakening in the Force. Their connection was the whole heart of the story in TFA. Allowing them to be love interests for each other just helps cement that. Finnrey being allowed to remain love interests throughout the Sequel trilogy could've helped keep Finn from being sidelined, it could've helped keep REY from being sidelined, it could've allowed Kylo Ren to remain a villain, it could've helped keep some of the more interesting themes of TFA from being completely and utterly dropped.

By comparison, Poe was supposed to die in TFA. He and Finn share maybe 2-3 scenes total with each other, which are split up between the very beginning and the end of the second act of the film, leaving a LOT of time in-between where neither we as the audience nor Finn in universe even SEE Poe (and he mostly disappears when the third act on Starkiller Base starts up, too). Giving Finn a love interest that isn't Rey also opens the door for him to be sidelined in favor of Rey. This is something we can actually see done intentionally in TLJ with Finn and Rose. It pulls focus from what was set up as the focal point and heart of the narrative in TFA (Finn and Rey's relationship) and provides an excuse for why Finn isn't taking part in the bigger storylines with Rey.

And last but not least, I don't personally believe that there was ever a snowball's chance in hell that Finn and Poe were ever going to become an canon couple in a Disney Star Wars movie (it wouldn't have happened in a Lucas-run Sequel Trilogy either, but that's not really the point here). Finnrey could've. You can even argue that it SHOULD'VE happened and that it WOULD'VE happened (if Rian Johnson hadn't come in and decided to ignore everything that was set up in TFA). And Finnrey theoretically still HAS a shot at being made canon. It seems a LOT more likely that if they continue to explore the characters in the future that we'll see Finn and Rey get together romantically than that we would see Finn and Poe get together romantically.

So while I like Finn and Poe, I don't feel like there was real potential that actually got squandered in the films when they didn't happen, whereas there was ACRES of potential for Finn and Rey that got completely thrown away, and doing so really hurt both of their characters and the trilogy as a whole.

[namika-saya]

Sctir and its multiple forms of love

After finally finishing sctir. I wanted to jot down my thoughts over the multiple forms of love shown in sctir. Bc there are A Lot. Some more healthy than others. Some more incomprehensible than others. Of course, spoilers ahead.

Familial Love:

.Han siblings : The epitome and exemplary example, the Han siblings have undying support and love for each other. The special thing about the Han brothers is that they're not just brothers, they're like parent and child. Han Yoojin raised Han Yoohyun himself shortly after hyh was born, and they continued to rely and put each other first until they were forcibly parted by circumstances. The fact that hyh is the ward and hyj is the guardian immensely helps their dynamic, as even with their differences hyh will respect and listen to hyung.

.Luire siblings: They're similar to the Han brothers and yet so different, just by a switch between the roles of guardian and ward (and their power levels). Riette is a born S-class, which means that she's unable to see things normally or have human empathy. Despite loving her brother enough to die for him, she has given him immense trauma in not respecting his autonomy and forced him to do many dangerous things that is pretty much abuse. In the end, they manage to find a balance, and Riette is still trying her best to understand Noah and have him forgive her.

.Sigma & Puppeteer: They're so interesting. One was borne bc of the other. The other can't exist without the one. They're each other's ward and guardian. Sigma allowed Puppeteer to gain sentience by continually pumping mana into him, while Puppeteer's efforts keep Sigma alive and existing. They care very much for each other and would do anything for the other.

"Platonic" Love:

. Shj & Stw : even if it's never explicitly said, their dynamic is like that of an old married couple where one is tired but used to the other's shenanigans. The Moon and its Eclipse. Fated enemies, but each of their stubbornness in staying human gives them an equal ground that allows them to care and respect for each other. Stw is literally one of the only two existences that shj can ever come to love.

. Shj & Hyj : also a lovely pair with a big contrast. The ordinary and the extraordinary. One who has it all and one who has lost everything. The man at the pinnacle and the man wading through the mud on the bottom. Hyj is literally the only person that sees shj as a human (at first). It's through hyj's love and care that allows shj to love life and carve out an existence for himself, for others to care about him like a human, and for shj to finally gain autonomy over his life. Shj's love and care for hyj allows hyj to be more confident about himself, soothes his worries, and as someone he can lean on without having to act as a caretaker.

"Romantic" Love:

.Chatterbox towards Jellyfish: now we're diving into the more unsavory forms of love in sctir. Well, chatterbox is obsessed with jellyfish. Some might say that is or isn't love, and both would be correct. (I jokingly call chatterbox an incel) Chatterbox loves Jellyfish, but he is selfish. He doesn't care about anything jellyfish cares about, he only cared about having her by his side. His attempt to turn hyj into luka peigya is disgusting, attempting to even modify his body surgically and put it in a glass cage. He's disgusting, only caring about his "revenge" and "love", neither caring about what the object of his love thinks nor if his actions make any sense.

Unconditional Love:

. Cresent Moon: this one's the most difficult one, especially if we take the difference between og cm and current cm. Cresent Moon's unconditional love should be impossible, but she manages it bc her love is inhuman at its core. A love that is equal for everyone, she will love you when you're at your highest and when you're at your lowest. She doesn't care what state of being you are in, and that love is no different than indifference. She will do horrible things to you in the name of love, as long as it's for the greater good. She is the cradle of Transcendents, just how many planets and civilizations have died indirectly by her hand as a result of that? Originally, she had a bit of humanity, loving people and still listening to them, but after morphing into a wish granting system she went mad from the wishes of those trying to live. What she did to shj mightve been the easiest way to save the universe, but it is unbearably cruel for her to try and take away his autonomy, humanity, and identity in order to do so.

All in all, the main theme of sctir is that love goes hand in hand with respect. Love without respect leads to disaster, and it is when one loves and respect one another can that love be strong enough to save the world. The end.

[taeraemisu]

in another universe ; jake enhypen

synopsis ; reader always had a crush on their best friend, jake. too scared to confess, reader pushes their feelings away just so they can never lose jake. but what happens when one of their usual late night deep talks takes a turn?

genre ; slight angst, best friends to lovers, idiots really, stargazing together !!!, fluff ?

pairings ; jake x reader

word count ; 1.6k words

you stare at the picture your best friend jake sent you. ‘does my outfit look okay?’ he texted you, waiting for a reply on the other side of the screen. you mentally screamed.

of course you do, anything you wear looks great, you said in your head. it was the jake sim for that matter, he always look good.

‘you look a little better than most days’

you replied before throwing your phone on your bed. how could one look so good? you and jake had been friends since kindergarten. long time friends, you honestly have no idea when the line of platonic or romantic feelings started to blur. it felt like you had a crush on him forever. definitely not love at first sight. but if you were to go backwards and pick up the little moments where you felt more-than-friends love,

you would end up right back to the moment you first ever saw him.

you hated the feelings though. you couldn’t accept them. you knew jake in and out so you knew whenever he had a crush on someone. and you had to admit, you did look for those signs whenever you guys were hanging out, for any tiny hint of reciprocated feelings. but you could never find any.

so, you pushed the feelings away. you couldn’t risk confessing, breaking the friendship and losing your best friend of almost twenty years. it was better to have him right by your side while suffering through it rather than having him gone while still suffering.

a ding comes out from your phone. you sat down on the side of your bed and pick it up, a text from him coming through.

‘so you think i’m good looking today :D who is this and what happened to yn ?? they would never tell me i am handsome’

obviously, you thought. any compliments that come from right out of your mouth will show your true feelings. you could never allow that.

‘i take my words back. you look hideous’

your phone dings again.

‘no take backs’

there was a moment of silence before another text comes through.

‘we are meeting tonight at the rooftop right?’

you type out a quick ‘yes’ before shutting your phone off, not responding anymore. how much longer could you hide these feelings? ever since you were kids, you had quite the obsession with stars. or anything space related. so when jake found you just laying down on the rooftop late at night one day when you guys were 10, it quickly became a tradition to hang out there at least once a week.

you loved the stars and the secrets of the universe but if any one were to ask you any questions about it, you frankly couldn’t give a scientific answer. you loved the philosophical sense of it though, about how there’s multiple multiverses and different universes. jake, being the smarter one of the two of you, went on to study astronomy in school.

of course, since you moved over the years, you guys could not hang out at the original rooftop you started the tradition at. but thankfully, the tiny apartment building you are currently living in had an accessible rooftop to use. you sighed as you thought about jake.

maybe in another universe, you did not have feelings for him.

“and you know what sunghoon did? he took the last piece of chicken!”

the both of you were now on the rooftop, sitting down as you gaze at the stars together. it was a good night, the sky was clear, no chance of rain or any feelings getting in the way, you could absolutely see the stars tonight.

“how scandalous,” you said in a sarcastic tone. “how dare he take the last piece of chicken!”

“that’s what i’m saying!” jake laughs, turning to look at you before looking back at the stars. “and what about you? we haven’t seen each other in so long, oh my god?”

you guys were working adults now, well jake was busy preparing for graduate school while you had a typical 9-5 job, so you couldn’t see jake as much as you used to. which makes you appreciate the rooftop talks a lot more. but it also helps you to push the feelings away. the less you see him, the more likely the feelings will go away, right?

you shrugged. “eh, the typical. wake up at 7, prepare, leave, arrive to work at 9, leave at 5, come back.” you were living in a constant cycle, the same thing over and over again.

maybe in another universe, you went on to pursue your actual dream of film, not taking the safe option.

jake looks at you sadly. “you should have some fun in your life! why not go out and date someone?”

ouch.

“as if,” you scoffed. “you scared off a couple of my exes while i was dating them.”

jake grins, clearly having no regrets. “they were assholes. i did you a huge favour.” he looks at you before starting to lie down, his head resting on your thigh. your heart skipped a beat. he could just breath and you will find reasons to fall for him all over again. “what are you doing?” you questioned, hoping that it’s too dark that he could not see your face turning red.

“this is comfortable,” he says, now laying down on your thigh while he looks up to the stars. “why do you love the stars so much?”

“i don’t know, why do you?” you asked without much thought.

“cause you like them.”

you paused at that. jake could have no other undertone in those words but your heart still managed to race a little faster. “oh,” was all you could say.

jake smiles at your reaction. “you liked them so much when we were kids, so i got interested in them.”

you smiled at that, your hands unconsciously going up to play with his fringe, before stopping yourself. “oh. sorry-“ you start to apologise, moving your hand away. but jake holds onto your hand, placing it back on his head. “don’t. it feels nice.”

you smiled softly but god, jake was not helping your case of losing feelings. he closes his eyes while you played with his hair. he looked so good, it made you breathless. the moonlight on his face, god, jake looked ethereal.

“but what about you?” he started to ask while you continue to play with his hair softly. “you seemed like you lost interest in the stars over the years.”

you paused, unsure of what to say. “it’s not that i lost interest …” your voice trails off. “nothing seems to be going my way in this universe.”

jake smiles softly at that, his eyes still closed while you continue to play with his hair. “but you still believe that there are different universes? you believe in the multiverse still, right?”

you nod. it was the one thing you couldn’t let go off. if you were going through something bad, you would always tell yourself that in another universe, a version of you is going through so much worse but is still pushing on. so, it gave you motivation in life.

“in another universe …” your voice trails off, thinking. “i got to do what i wanted in school.”

the aussie boy opens his eyes, looking at you. “in another universe, sunghoon didn’t take the last piece of chicken!”

you both laugh at that. this was the kid you fell for. the one who always had your heart even when you were dating other people.

you didn’t know what came over you but it was as if you had no control over yourself when your mouth started to form the words.

“in another universe …” you paused, before saying what you have always wanted to say. “we are dating.”

jake looks at you, with a certain look on his face that you could not quite tell. was it shock? was it happiness? or was it just nothing at all?

“i mean-“ you started to say to save yourself. you stopped playing with his hair, panicking. did that count as a confession? probably not. but it was something. “it’s the universe! there’s so many possibilities, you know?”

jake looks away, not saying anything. did i fuck up? you thought.

“how disappointing then,” he whispers.

disappointing? did he really see you as nothing but a friend?

“is the thought of dating me really that bad?” you joked, nervously laughing. jake shook his head, looking back at you. “it’s not that, just …” his voice trails off, his eyes staring right back at you. for once, he looked like he was staring at you the same way you looked at the stars.

“why can’t that be this universe?”

you paused. did you hear that right? “what?”

still looking at you, jake repeats what he said softly. “i said, why can’t us dating be in this current universe?”

your eyes widen. did he just …

“yes, idiot, i like you. a lot.”

all the words left your mouth. you did not know what to say. jake likes you back?

he looks at you, hoping for some type of reply or reaction from you. “i …” you begin to say. “… hope that we are living in the universe where we date, too.”

jake smiles at that, his hand going up to the back of your neck before pulling you down for a short and sweet kiss. he pulls away, both of you having the same childish grins on your face.

in another universe …

wait, no.

in this universe, you are happily dating the one that had your heart for years.

© taeraemisu do not copy my works !

[thesirencove]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ WILDFLOWER -- SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

hi everyone !! this is a fic i posted on a previous blog , that i since removed from said blog as i decided to focus on another topic so i created this blog so that i can once again share my works :) i've since edited this fic as i wrote it little bit ago !! let me know your thoughts on this one and enjoy <3 my requests are open and let me know if anyone would like a part two to this !

oh and grab some tissues .

sam winchester x fem!reader (romantic) // dean winchester x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: when a hunt goes wrong...

warnings: blood and bleeding , death , descriptions of being unable to breathe , descriptions of feeling worthless , sad sam :( , lots of angst and overall sad .

word count: 1.8k

it wasn’t meant to happen this way.

y/n and sam were supposed to live a long, happy life together. they were meant to hunt for a little while longer and then retire and live their happy little ‘apple pie life’ as dean trademarked it. they’d already talked about having kids and a dog and building their dream house together. they were supposed to be together until they were old and took their last breaths together. 

simply, together.

but sometimes things don’t go according to plan. just like the moment they were in right now.

sam was kneeling on the floor, covered in blood. not his own. hers. it soaked through his shirt and stained his face.  

“y/n please stay with me,” sam pleaded, holding her limp body in his arms, her shallow breaths barely audible for him to feel any sense of comfort. he was pressing down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. trying to stop her from dying. still, more of her blood poured out from god knows where. 

“i-’m sorr..y,” she croaked out. y/n could feel herself fading away. the oxygen wouldn’t fill her lungs properly and every one of her limbs were so, so tired. 

the hunt started out perfectly. y/n, sam, and dean were quick to figure out where the monster was and how to get rid of it. a nest of vampires, hiding in the woods, preying on the little town nearby. bodies had stacked up over the years, but it wasn’t until recently that it became suspicious. y/n happened to be the one to find the newspaper article. 

“guys! i found us a case!” she brought the newspaper clipping over to sam and dean so enthusiastically. she was so excited, so proud to have found a case on her own instead of relying on the winchester brothers to find one for them all. they saw the glint of her eyes and couldn’t say no. how could they, seeing how wide she was smiling?

so they went. they should have known it was too good to be true. the vampires were working with a pack of werewolves nearby. they were ambushed. sam and dean had been fighting off a pair of vampires when suddenly–

crack.

it hadn’t come from either of them. sam’s head whipped around to look at y/n, who was clutching her arm close to her chest as she continued fighting off the three monsters who’d grouped up on her. her lips were cut and he could see blood pouring out of a cut above her eye. the beginnings of a bruise stained her cheeks. sam’s vision went hazy, wanting to help her but being so afraid that he couldn’t move. it wasn’t the monsters that scared him. it was seeing y/n hurt. he was frozen in place.

it wasn’t even five seconds later when he saw the last standing werewolf swipe at y/n, eliciting a yelp from her. she swung her silver blade quickly after and the werewolf’s head rolled across the floor. his body dropped, thudding when it went down. 

she followed soon after. y/n dropped to her knees. sam finally snapped out of the trance he was stuck in, rushing to her side. the sound she made when her knees hit the floor rang in his ears as he caught her, pulling her into him. 

his hands were covered in blood as he held onto her. it wasn’t his blood. nor the werewolves. it was hers. her blood was pouring out, staining her shirt and his and both of their hands. it scared him. there was oh so much of it and sam was panicking. 

his y/n. his sunshine. his wildflower. 

she was bleeding out at an alarming rate and he couldn’t do anything. he felt useless, so utterly useless in this moment.

“hey, hey y/n. sweetheart stay with me. please stay with me,” sam practically begged her, as though it would make a difference for her current condition. his voice cracked as he yelled out for dean. for his big brother to do something to save her. his heart was cracking, if not already broken. the tears built and built, finally spilling over like an old dam that couldn’t contain the flood. 

y/n could barely keep her eyes open as she laid there, weakly grabbing onto sam’s arms. she looked down towards her wound. the deep, jagged lines from the werewolf’s claws painted her abdomen. she whimpered at the sight. it burned worse than anything she could have ever imagined but the scream she wanted to let out got stuck in her throat, only building on the agony she felt. 

and the blood. there was so much blood. 

too much of it.

dean rushed over to where sam was holding y/n in his arms, clutching her close to him, like a child who didn’t want to share his favorite plushie. he was holding her so firmly, scared that if he didn’t then she’d somehow disappear. that she’d die faster. he couldn’t lose her, what would he do with her gone? how could he continue to live? 

sam looked up at dean and they exchanged a look, prompting dean to run outside. y/n could faintly hear dean calling out for cas before the weak pounding of her blood became too loud. 

“sam,” y/n rasped, her voice weak. she couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down her cheek. sam didn’t say anything, barely acknowledged that she said his name, not wanting the reality to set in of the situation. not wanting to accept that y/n was dying. the love of his life was dying and he could do nothing about it. he felt so utterly useless, thinking about the countless lives he’d saved, and yet he couldn’t save his love. 

the wounds were too deep to patch up and the nearest hospital was 20 miles away.

“sam,” she repeated, more urgently this time, before subsiding into a minor coughing fit. the blood started coming out of her mouth as well at this point. 

 “shhh, don’t speak sweetheart. you’re going to be okay. it’ll be okay. dean’s going to get cas. he’s going to heal you. it’s going to be okay,” sam said frantically. he was assuring himself of this as much as he was y/n. but both of them knew that this was the end for her. if cas didn’t get here in time then she would be gone.

her breathing became shallow as the blood pooled in her lungs. she felt like she was drowning. falling deeper. and deeper. she felt herself panic and her heart trying to pump more blood, so she could breathe but it just couldn't.

“y/n please stay with me,” sam pleaded. 

“i-’m sorr..y,” she croaked out. 

“promise me, y/n. promise me you-you’ll hold on. promise me that you’ll recover and, and come back. that we’ll live a long and happy life together. the one that we-we..ve always dreamed o-f. with-with a little cottage in the woods. we’re going to have three kids. three of them and a dog,” he trailed off on that last word as he sobbed, stumbling over words as he couldn’t keep himself together. 

“i need you to promise me that.” he begged her once again.

“i promise. but only if you pro-mi..se me-” y/n trailed off, getting weaker with every word she said, “that you’ll move o-n. if-if i die, sam, i ne-ed you,” she gasped for air, “to move on.” sam shook his head, but y/n whispered a measly, ‘please.’ sam, looking into her glistening eyes, once so full of life and now fading from him, and nodded.

dean ran into the room, and sam whipped his head around towards him only to be met with a disappointing shake signaling that cas didn’t come. 

“h-hey dean,” y/n whispered, coughing yet again only for more blood to come out, spilled over her lips and staining them red.

“hey, crazy girl. you’re going to be okay. don’t go pulling a me on us here, alright? heaven and hell are too crowded for you to be joining them,” dean said, taking one of her hands in his and weakly smiling at her. she chuckled weakly, as much as she could, before looking at him again with sad eyes.

“tak-ke care of sa-am for me. and take ca..re of yourself for me, to..o.” dean nodded at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, one final goodbye for his closest friend and the girl he’d been so excited to see finally get married to sam.

that future was blurred now. no longer an option.

“i lo-ve you, sam” she croaked out one last time, giving him the best smile she could. she wanted him to remember her smile above anything.

“i love you too, wildflower,” sam sobbed, wiping a tear from her cheek and pressing one final kiss to her lips.

and so her heart slowed to a stop. her eyes became devoid of life. her body was fully limp. unmoving. unwavering. sam’s heart had stopped along with hers. 

a final tear made its way down her cheek, like the last fall of snow in winter. 

the flap of wings that they had all been praying to hear had finally come. but it was too late. too late to save her, too late to get married and have the kids they’d once dreamed about, too late to build a home together. too late. 

the sound that came next made dean wince. sams sobs had turned into such agony, such rage that he screamed out as he held the body of his now-dead lover. he screamed at cas, cursing at him, the outburst so unlike him that dean had to look away, squeezing his eyes shut. 

the screams turned to silent weeping as sam held y/n’s body closer to him than before, his flannel and shirt now soaked in her blood. her limp body shook in his arms as he cried. 

and cried. 

and cried.

until he couldn’t anymore. his cheeks and eyes were raw and red from crying. he felt so worthless in himself and in the fact that he couldn’t save her. that he couldn’t get her back. the chapter of their lives had closed, the next page blank. he kept looking into her eyes, so lifeless it terrified him. the girl who made everything she touched full of life was gone. 

he’d never be able to hold her again. never see her smile, or the light shine in her eyes. so many never’s and what if’s filled his brain over and over. every new thought that seeped into his mind was so loud. it was like the thoughts were never ending, until a final thought filled his head.

the sunshine was gone and his wildflower was dead and his heart was broken, and there was no way to fix any of it. but he’d find a way. somehow. no matter how long or what it took. he’d get her back.

[idkwhatever580]

Avengers Team Night- Natasha

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader romantic. Avengers x reader platonic

Prompt: what I think Nat would choose for her night on the avengers bonding nights.

Warnings: swearing, lmk if I need to add any more!

A/N: disclaimer, this is what I personally think they would do. So if it isn’t what you pictured I apologize :)

Nobody’s pov

As everyone fills into the main living room they stand and wait for instruction.

As they look around they see that the couches that are usually all facing the tv are now facing inwards towards each other so that everyone can talk.

Nat comes out and says

“Everybody pick a spot. If I have to move you I will so behave”

Tony pitches in

“Ooh what are we doing? Playing spin the bottle?”

Natasha quickly shuts him down and says

“No. We’re sitting down. Now behave or I’ll put you in timeout.”

Steve wants to laugh but he knows better than to rest Natasha’s patience.

They all start to sit down.

(The squares are the couch cushions to separate them lol. I thought it would be easier to draw it and take a picture rather than try to explain)

Thor pitches in and says

“What are we doing today lady Natasha?”

She smiles and says

“We’re gonna talk. About our greatest fears. And nobody is going to judge. No laughing. No comments. Just support. We won’t be making fun of their fears even if you think it is trivial because you wouldn’t want them to make fun of your fear.”

Some groans go across the room. Mainly the guys. But some of them are oddly quiet. Tony hasn’t said a word since Natasha started and you’re impressed.

Wanda speaks up and says

“Who’s going first?”

Nat shrugs her shoulders and says

“We could go at it any way. Youngest to oldest. Oldest to youngest. Pick someone and go clockwise. Take turns as we feel called”

Steve says

“I wouldn’t want to pressure anybody into anything so I think taking turns as we feel comfortable is a good one”

Y/n’s pov

Nat nods her head and I smile. We kind of sit awkwardly for a bit and then Thor says

“I’ll go.”

We smile at him and all wait patiently.

“My biggest fear would be if I was not worthy.”

We listen intently but he doesn’t go on any further and Nat says

“Do you want to explain or go deeper into that?”

He sighs as he nods his head and readjusts his posture a bit.

“I guess I do not know why I feel this way. I have just always been told that Thor is worthy. But what is Thor if not worthy?”

I smile and get an idea. So I say

“He’s a friend.”

Wanda smiles at me and nods her head and joins in

“He’s funny”

Bucky pitches in

“He is strong”

Tony smiles and says

“He is family”

While we are all saying these things Thor smiles and says

“Thank you.”

Nat shakes her head and says

“You know. Thor I don’t think being worthy is dictated by a hammer. I think it is dictated by your heart. It doesn’t matter how strong you are. If you do not have a good heart then you are not worthy. And let me tell you this. You have a good heart.”

He tears up a bit and he says

“Thank you. I think my turn is done now”

We nod our heads and let him be finished.

Bruce gets some courage and says

“I think my fear is the big guy taking control and not being able to get it back. I mean. You’ve seen how he is. And it is sometimes hard for me to get back out. It’s a constant battle.”

A lot of us nod our heads understanding the battling self aspect. Steve says

“Maybe if you weren’t always fighting with him it would be easier yes? If you could work with him somehow then the both of you could live harmoniously and not have as many problems.”

Bruce nods his head and takes the information. But he kind of shuts down and we move on.

I grab Nat’s hand since I’m trying to gain the courage to take a turn.

Yelena starts speaking before I can even gain an ounce of courage

“I guess I am afraid of men. Or whatever”

I smile and say

“Wanna unpack that?”

She shakes her head and I nod mine. I don’t need much to know why she doesn’t want to talk about it. And that’s okay.

Nat then says

“Who’s next?”

I sign and say

“I’ll go.”

They all look at me and I kind of shrink up.

But Nat’s reaffirming hand on my thigh helps me. I take a breath and say

“My biggest fear is change. I don’t like change. I don’t like not having control over every aspect of my life. It’s hard. And scary.”

They all nod and Steve says

“You know change is inevitable, but I won’t lie. You’re right about it being scary. When I came out of the ice I remember they tried to ease me into it. But they made a wrong choice of radio station because the game that was playing I had been to. So I knew something was wrong and I freaked out. It was hard for me to transition into this world. Sometimes it still is hard.”

Bucky chimes in

“Yeah. When all we knew was one thing and we were suddenly thrust into a world with a completely different view it was terrifying. But we make do.”

Yelena speaks up

“When I was freed I didn’t know what to do with myself. I bought a jacket with a million pockets on it because it was the first thing that was mine and only mine. But I’ve learned to embrace the change. Don’t get me wrong I still hate it. But when I take a second to breathe I see the beauty in change.”

I smile and nod my head.

“Thanks guys”

A few of the other avengers take their turns and then Clint says

“I’m going to just say it. I’m afraid of clowns.”

Tony looks at him and says

“Clowns? Like circus clowns?”

I give Tony a death stare to remind him that we’re not judging and he nods. Clint goes on to say

“Yeah. I grew up in a circus. It’s kind of ironic. But they just terrify me.”

I nod my head and we finish up with Tony.

“I don’t have any fears”

We all glare at him and Nat says

“Everyone is scared of something. It’s okay you can be honest. This is a sage space”

Tony sighs and says

“Okay fine… I guess I am afraid of something.”

Thor says

“What is it?”

He bites his cheek and says

“I am afraid… of losing the thing I love most.”

Bruce accidentally judges like we said we wouldn’t do and he says

“What? Your a.i.?”

Tony shakes his head and says

“You guys. I’m afraid that I will never be strong enough. And one day you will all leave me because I am not good enough.”

We look at him and say

“Oh tony we would never leave you. You are family.”

Pietro pitches in and says

“Ohana means family. And family sticks together.”

Tiny nods his head and says

“When we had that big fight about the accords those years ago I was terrified. So scared that all of you would realize that what we were doing was a lose lose situation so you would just give up on me. Like my parents did.”

Nat shakes her head and says

“We love you Tony. And we might have had fights before but we’re able to put our differences aside now. We are family. And we won’t leave you. And you are enough”

We all end up in a group hug which is super warm and comfy considering I am next to Thor (the expert hugger) and we all just start talking back and forth until we decide we should go to bed.

I grab Nat’s hand and say

“That was a good pick for team night baby”

She smiles and says

“Thank you Detka. Now. About your fear of change, could I ask you something that might scare you?”

I tense up a bit as we enter our shared room and say

“Sure.”

She smiles and says

“I’ve been thinking…”

I cut her off and say

“That’s never good”

She smacks my shoulder as I laugh a bit and then she continues

“As I was saying, I’ve been thinking we should get a cat!”

My eyebrows raise up high and I say

“A cat?”

She nods her head and says

“We’ve been together for a while now and I just want a fur baby with you.”

I smile and say

“Okay. But I’m not cleaning its litter box!”

She smiles and says

“Oh alright.”

——

A/n: I hope y’all liked it!! It took way too long for me to finish 😔😭

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Got Ink? 💉 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x tattooed model!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of pain as a result of tattoos. Slight suggestive content if you blink | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Art comes in many different forms. And when you technically think about it, your body is a canvas that can be become a mural if you find yourself drawn to the beauty that tattoos bring. For WSO Bob Floyd, he appreciated art in every form and loved how patterns and colors could create something beautiful. When his sister invites him to a party for her job shortly after returning from a special mission with the Navy, Bob meets a woman who was the perfect canvas he’d ever seen.

Note: I cannot tell you how much I loved doing this request. As soon as I got it I was like, ‘I’m gonna love this,’ especially as someone who has tattoos and wants to have a lot (I have at least twenty planned) this was feeding my love for tattoos. To the anon who sent this request I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this for you and I hope you’re okay with me choosing Bob since you said you wouldn’t mind if it was him or Jake—since I just did a Jake imagine I wanted to give Bob some love 🥹 Also I made it where reader was born in 1989 so if we were to go by Bob being born in 1993 like Lewis then she’d be about four years older since the events of TGM take place in 2019.

——————————

They often say that when you get your first tattoo it will either be the one and only time you subject yourself to the temporary pain of permanent ink…or it becomes one of many.

“It’s an addiction”, people defend, though they should probably look up the term addiction before using it in such context.

For many it’s the appreciation of art. Whether expressing it by becoming a tattoo artist or wanting to capture the beauty by etching it onto their skin like they are its own personal canvas.

Tattoos come in many different forms. There’s the traditional/old school style that is very recognizable with its bold black lines outlining bright colors. People in their old age, having grown up in the 60s and 70s, are the ones usually seen with these types of tattoos. Neo-traditional is not that far off from traditional, just the lines are not as bold. Delicateness is seen with fine line tattoos. In recent years it’s become popular amongst the younger generation—not just because they are pretty to look at but if one has a job that’s strict on policy then they can hide them better.

The oldest style would be the tribal tattoos. Beautiful elaborate patterns in various sizes, they represent the culture one comes from. Like fine line, watercolor tattoos have become a popular style—taking away the traditional black ink used as an outline so the colors have the spotlight. No color in a piece is blackwork and then there’s realism where it’s pretty much a picture that was printed onto the skin. Go on Pinterest and you’ll find multiple images of patchwork style where a collection of pieces put together can be any style already mentioned.

Japanese style, patch, geometric, black & gray, anime, portrait, the list goes on and on. So many ways to put a design on one’s body where it will remain until they go to the next life. Some people stick to pieces that represent sentimental value, like family or childhood nostalgia, others will simply see something they like and go, “I think it looks cool.”

When looking at Y/n’s tattoos, both aspects were seen in the array of artwork coating her body. After getting all the pieces that represented a person, place, or thing that impacted her life, Y/n started to get whatever the hell she wanted—not having an explanation for anything other than, “it looked badass so I got it. No value behind it, I just wanted it.”

Like many newly turned teenagers itching to get their first tattoo, Y/n was bold and got an intricate design on one of the most painful spots. Her reasoning was if she did it, then any other place in the future wouldn’t be as bad. All through college whenever asked what she wanted for her birthday or holidays the answer was always money to get a tattoo. An artist herself, she majored in drawing while attending Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, also taking on an apprenticeship for a local tattoo artist. There she would get to work on her skills and tattoo people, progressing to doing tattoos on her legs and non-dominant arm. Anytime she traveled to a different state or country during the semester she studied abroad, Y/n got a new tattoo, wanting to have an array of styles from different artists on her body.

By the time she was 26, she had accumulated over 50 tattoos and still had room for more. From her neck down, artwork ranging from fine line to bold and traditional decorated her skin. Both her arms were half sleeves, ending just above her elbows with patchwork along her forearms and hands. The only place free of ink on Y/n was her face, though she did have her inner lip tattooed. If you asked her, it’d be the only place she regretted getting ink because it faded so quickly. But then again, she could get it redone if she really wanted to.

There were looks from people anytime she went out. Y/n loved dressing up in little black dresses and two piece sets to unapologetically show off her tattoos. Older, conservative couples or people who thought tattoos looked trashy on women would look down upon her. Getting hit on was normal, though she never gave the time of day and sending one look that read, ‘get lost’ had men scurry. Sometimes she'd be approached by teenagers asking about certain pieces, saying they wanted to get tattoos once they were of age and were looking for advice. Biker bars were a place she felt comfortable in, Y/n even taking a part-time job as a bartender so make some extra cash. People from all ages—well at least 21–were covered in tattoos like her.

In 2014, shortly after her 25th birthday, Y/n noticed an inbox notification in her instagram. She was used to getting messages on occasion. Being featured on the bar’s and tattoo parlors business instagram pages and accumulating her own following of potential clients had Y/n reach up to 80 thousand followers. The tattoo artist she worked for was very popular, having done work for celebrities and being featured in Inked Magazine.

Speaking of Inked Magazine…..

When Y/n clicked on the icon to open the message, the first thing she spotted was the blue checkmark. Then beside it was in bold lettering inkedmag. Coffee nearly spilled onto the floor when her grip faltered, gasping lightly at the name. She didn’t even realize the page was following her, confirming this by searching herself under their following and found her username staring back at her.

Heart pumping, Y/n opened the message. “Hi, Y/n, my name is Manda Williams and I’m a representative at Inked Magazine. We’re a fan of your profile and would love to work with you on our upcoming campaign. Would you be interested? Please email me at mandawilliaminked@gmail.com, I look forward to talking with you soon.”

Never did she think she’d become a model, let alone a tattoo model. She was taller than the average woman, standing at about 5’10 and strikingly beautiful. On countless occasions family members would say, “if you didn't have all that on you maybe you’d been discovered. You’ve got the height, the style, and high fashion look. Plus you’ll never get a well paying job with all those tattoos.” All they were met with was a roll of the eyes from the woman, annoyed with the constant nagging.

“I’m an artist,” she would defend. “I got accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and I work for a very renowned tattoo artist who has had Snoop Dogg, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga as clients. Not to mention I work at a biker bar where the people there love me. Want me to go further?” the look on their face would read they didn’t but Y/n would put the nail in the coffin with, “Let me point out the fact I get paid more with both those jobs combined than you working a nine to five in your little office job. Also you should educate yourself. Tattoo models do exist.”

If only those family members could see her now. Posing on a motorcycle in nothing but a bra and booty shorts as the camera flashed in front of her.

“You’re a natural, Y/n,” the photographer complimented, making her flustered.

She adjusted her position, running a hand through her hair, “If you think so I trust your judgment.” Being in a studio felt very different than when she would set up her phone on a tripod in her apartment. It took many tries for her to capture the perfect angle, often deleting fifteen out of sixteen photos. Here with this guy calling out movements, “a little to the left,” “bring your hand up—just under your chin, perfect,” “Now act like you’re suntanning on the beach—tilt your head back as though the sun is in your face,” Y/n felt what it was like to be a model.

Not many tattooed individuals got the chance to sign with top agencies like Ford and IMG. Very few were recruited so it came as a big surprise when an agent from IMG Models contacted her following the release of Inked Magazine’s issue. When she took the job she thought it would be a small section in the magazine itself. Instead, she was on the cover.

“You don’t have an agent?” Bonnie’s tone was confused, staring back at Y/n from behind her desk as they sat in her office at the IMG headquarters. Bonnie had seen her cover on Inked, immediately going to Y/n’s instagram where she contacted her though the email listed on the tattoo parlors page. From there she asked the artist to bring a portfolio, which she was shocked to find out wasn’t much. “That was your first model job?”

Y/n shrugged, making a face like it was obvious, “Unless you count the dozens of comments I get on instagram beggin for my next post, yeah it was. I’m a bartender and tattoo artist, modeling wasn’t something I thought was in the cards.” She refrained from adding, “also didn’t think IMG scouted people like me.”

It was safe to say Y/n was unlike the typical runway model. Every now and then a high fashion show would hire a man with tattoos to walk for them. Very rare would you see a woman on the runway. For Y/n, that seemed to be the case in the beginning of her career. She did walk in the Marco Marco show that year which was the highlight of her life. Inked Magazine got so much response on her first feature that they made her their staple girl. Y/n worked with them the most on campaigns and even got to do a cover shoot with celebrities like Travis Barker and Kehlani. Those features got her a lot of recognition to the point she hit one million followers on instagram.

It wasn’t until Y/n went viral on the internet for her Sports Illustrated cover and becoming the first inked model to be featured in a Victoria Secret campaign that the top designers were booking her. Before long she was auditioning for brands during fashion week, securing Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, and Oscar de la Renta. Due to her tattoos being the star of the show, there were hardly any clothes on her save for tiny tops and skirts or dresses with intricate cutouts. She didn’t mind of course. After all, her tattoos were a part of her and the reason she was getting the opportunities of a lifetime.

Milan, Paris, London, New York. Fashion week was gonna have to get used to a new face in town.

Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, Inked. Pick up an issue and you’d find Y/n on at least one page, if not the cover.

Every now and then she’d get asked to appear in music videos for bands. The Weekend once asked her to be the cover art for one of his singles, bringing her more attention as "The Inked Beauty from Blinding Lights cover art.”

She appeared on the Inked Magazine YouTube channel several times. The most popular video being when she did a Q&A released shortly after walking in the last ever Victoria Secret Fashion Show in 2018, becoming the first inked model to walk the VS runway. Though it had low ratings, Y/n’s bit was plastered on every social media site, many tweeting: “the best thing VS could’ve done for their final show was put Y/n L/n in it. She carried the damn thing.”

“Hello, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled shyly at the camera, her agent Bonnie and publicist giving a thumbs up. “I’m a tattoo and high fashion model from New York City. You may recognize me from the cover of Inked Magazine, or discovered me through some of my other projects over the last couple years—hell maybe I even tattooed you at one point,” chuckling as she feels her nerves slowly evaporate. “Today I’m here with Inked Magazine, the owners of my heart and career, and I'm gonna answer some questions sent in by you guys about my tattoos and career.”

The producer gives a nod, “Ready, Y/n.”

“Let me hear them, sonny boy.”

“What was your first tattoo and at what age did you get it?”

Thankfully she was wearing a tube top beneath her jacket, removing the clothing to reveal the many inked designs on her chest, and stomach. Pointing to the one just below her ribs, Y/n says, “So this was my first one—as you can tell by how faded it is compared to the others. I got it when I was eighteenth birthday, literally wasted no time and my family is actually who inspired it.”

“As of right now, how many tattoos do you have?” The question has Y/n think for a moment, tilting her head back slightly.

“I counted just the other week and I think it was close to…. seventy,” nodding she adds, “yeah I think that’s right. I know I had fifty when Inked contacted me four years ago for my first feature. So I’ve added twenty to the collection since.” She made a mental note to count again when she got home that night.

“Do you have any tattoo regrets?”

A nervous chuckle escaped, “Fuck, uh��.yes,” she looks down shamefully, but gives a shrug like, ‘I can explain.’ Lifting her head back up, Y/n takes her two index fingers and gently pulls down her bottom lip to reveal the messy smudged ink that once read, ‘baby girl’. The camera zoomed in and once they got a good shot of it Y/n let her lip fall back into place, “I don’t know if you were able to read that but when it was freshly done eight years ago it said,” she pulled a face showing she was too embarrassed to say it. “It said ‘baby girl.’ I got it when I was twenty on a dare and frankly I thought it would be hot, but it faded so quick—which,” she raised a finger, “that’s the one place I would say don’t get a tattoo. Even though it’s technically temporary…you’ll end up with a blob of ink like mine and it’s not cute.”

“Where were the most painful spots you got tattooed?” Immediately she lifted her arms to show she had ink on her armpits.

“These basterds right here,” the producer and crew laughed, nodding along with her. “You feel me? Yeah, I thought the ones on my stomach and ribs were bad. Those were a tickle compared to my armpits—-oh and my elbows. I think I actually broke a sweat when I got those done. It’s why I have yet to conquer my knees,” patting the covered area, Y/n shakes her head, “I don’t know If i can do it. But funny enough, these tiny little hearts on my palms,” Y/n flashed her palms up, the camera focusing on the two red lined hearts in the middle of each hand. “These hurt so bad. Thankfully I’m not putting anything else here because I strictly wanted the hearts, so I’m sparing myself.”

“What do they mean?” The producer asked, taking a pause from reading out the next question. The little smile Y/n gave was shy.

“I was told a lot growing up that I keep my heart in the palm of my hand,” while she explained Y/n kept glancing at the hearts, “kinda like the saying, ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve,’ but with me it’s literally in the palm of my hand. So I got these little hearts on my palms—that way when I hold someone’s hand, they can feel the love and care I have for them,” sending a wink to the camera she finishes with, “because my heart is in my palm.”

“Have you ever dated anyone with more tattoos than you?”

“Noooo,” she snorts. “Not because I’m not open to it—I’m very attracted to people with tattoos. And I have dated people with a lot…it just seems that anytime I do get into a serious relationship, I’m the one who has more than the other. And if you’re thinking about who I think you are—,” Y/n points directly to the camera, like a mother scolding her child, “the answer is no, he did not have more than me. Louis has thirty-three, I believe, since the last time he and I talked—which was,” she pauses to think, “I think around New Year’s.”

“Do you find yourself enjoying campaign shoots or runway shows more?”

“That’s hard,” Y/n pouts, causing her agent to chuckle since she knew the answer first hand. “Both are fun in their own way. I love being able to come into a studio or go out on sight and do a photo shoot—except in the fucking winter because I’m usually half naked freezing my ass off.” She pauses to laugh with the crew before continuing. “And then there's this feeling of ‘wow, that just happened,’ when I step off the runway. Getting to work with designers I’ve idolized since childhood and being the face of Mugler is a dream come true. If I had to choose…..it would be campaigns and photo shoots. There I can express myself more freely.”

“Do you see yourself still modeling in ten to twenty years time?”

There was a question she had to think about, taking a moment before answering. “I sure hope so. I love my job and definitely see myself continuing in the future. As long as my agent Bonnie and Inked don't get tired of me,” she laughs, winking at the woman who blows her a kiss. “But honestly I have experience as a tattoo artist so I could see myself opening my own parlor. I’d love to start my own blog or get other tattoo models into the industry. There’s a lot to think about what the future holds, but for right now I’m gonna have fun in the present.”

While home in New York when not booked, Y/n continued to work part-time at the tattoo parlor. She left the bar shortly after signing with IMG, but still visited whenever she could. There was even a picture of one of her Inked shoots framed above the bar.

With her new found fame the parlor had little to no openings each month. Regulars and new clients had to call in to reserve an appointment the second the schedule was dropped, which was sometimes weeks in advance. Several of the friends Y/n made in the modeling industry would get tattoos from her, though they always tended to go for the fine line style. More celebrities booked with her boss, adding Cardi B, Rihanna, and Louis Tomlinson to the list. The latter whom, as mentioned, Y/n actually got romantically linked to in mid 2017. It only lasted a few months, but the photo of the two on the Inked instagram was the most liked on their page.

Louis wasn’t the only high profiled person Y/n was involved with. Unfortunately the downside to fame meant her personal life was to be blasted on every inch of the internet. From starting her modeling career in 2014 to spring of 2019, she’d been spotted with actors Michael B. Jordan, Tom Felton, and fellow model Vladimir Ivanov. Like Louis, they only lasted a couple weeks to months—save for Vladimir which lasted almost over a year—and ended on good terms where they remained friends.

Frankly when it came to settling down Y/n hoped to find someone who was sweet and down to earth. Who was a hard worker—passionate about what they did for a living and wanting to share that with her. Someone who could make her laugh and feel like she was the only girl in the world. It was hard finding someone like when the spotlight follows you around. Y/n had been in the public eye going on six years and due to her connections with big named people she never seemed to catch a break when it came to romance.

All those qualities she desired in a life partner came to her in the form of the adorable weapons system officer she met at a party in November of 2019. The poor guy felt so out of place. From behind the bar Y/n could see him at the corner glancing around like he was searching for someone. Only getting a glimpse at the side of his face, she didn’t recognize him. The party had many from the fashion industry to celebrate Anna Wintour’s 70th birthday. What was ironic was Y/n took up the task of working the bar, kicking into her skills from when she was a bartender at a popular biker club in Manhattan. With her view she was able to see the entire floor as people entered.

The man she’d been eyeing must’ve come in when she was busy making the Hadid sisters their drinks. He wore a white dress shirt with some slacks and a matching blazer. His glasses reminded her of the popular style from the 80s. Come to think of it, they were probably the aviator style. He was tall, roughly six foot so she’d be eye level with him considering she was wearing two inch kitten heels.

Seeing his flustered demeanor and the fact he looked like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing there—not to mention he was handsome from what she could see, Y/n waltzed over, “May I get you anything?”

When he spun around she was met with the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They blinked rapidly, like they were trying to decipher if she was in fact real. Then they snapped straight to her neck, following the ink of the exposed skin on display from her red latex mini dress—which his face mirrored the color of since he was making it quite known he was checking her out. He had a baby face to him, which was kinda adorable, and Y/n assumed he was maybe a year or two younger than her.

Offering a smile Y/n said, “So what will it be?”

“Huh?” He said confused before remembering what she initially asked before he got distracted. “Oh uh, just water please.” Still smiling, Y/n took a clean empty glass and filled it with ice before adding the water. Finishing it with a straw she placed it on a napkin in front of him.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he took the glass, glancing around briefly before letting his shoulders drop.

“You seem a bit out of place,” Y/n wiped down the countertop, catching his attention again. The man nervously laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A bit,” she teased, nodding her head to the crowd in front of them. “All these people walk around like they own the place. You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Are you here with someone?” Part of her was hoping he’d say a friend invited him, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies at the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“My sister dragged me along,” he confirms, the model mentally sighing in relief. But she couldn’t get her hopes too high. For all she knew he may have a partner back home. “I was visiting her this past week and she begged me to come. I told her it was a bad idea since I’m not….part of this crowd.”

“Ah,” she hums, biting back a grin at the way he described the industry. “Not a model or influencer, I take it?”

“Nooooo,” his laugh filled her stomach with butterflies. “Not at all. I don’t know how to work social media. Are you?”

Y/n refilled a guest's drink and handed over a beer to another, “I dabble here and there,” it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t familiar with her work. Usually at events like the one they were at she had people coming up to her already knowing who she was. “You’re probably like, ‘thought she was just a bartender,’” she giggled at the flustered look taking over him. “I was one before being discovered. I’m doing this for fun honestly—-and because Anna likes what I make her.”

His eyes went to her neck and collarbones, lingering on the ink. She assumed he’d never seen a model with so many tattoos before. “You can look,” she smirked, when he glanced away from being caught staring. “You’re only seeing a small portion of the canvas,” his eyes went wide at her words, making her giggle, “these babies are the reason I’m in this business.”

“You're a tattoo model?”

Y/n raises a brow at the surprise in his tone, “Didn’t know they existed, handsome?”

“No-no,” he quickly apologizes, “sorry I meant no offense. I knew there were models with a lot of tattoos. My sister told me that the industry was starting to expand by signing more people with them.” His words have Y/n intrigued. Obviously his sister was someone in the business, she wondered if she knew her.

“Is your sister one?”

“No, she’s an agent,” Y/n stops what she’s doing, towel long forgotten.

“For a modeling agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?” Just as the question left her lips, Bonnie’s voice interrupted the two, “Bob, there you are! Oh good—,” she grins wide when she sees who he’s talking to, “You guys met!”

Snapping their heads toward each other, the two have the same expressions of, “wait what?”

Bonnie claps her hands, coming beside Bob at the bar and motioning between the two, “Y/n, this is my brother, Robert—the one I was telling you about last week,” mouth slightly agape, remembering the conversations the two had about Bonnie’s brother—in which the agent suggested setting up a date between the two—Y/n watches Bob react the same when Bonnie then says, “Bob, this is Y/n L/n. One of my clients at IMG—I know I’ve mentioned her before to you.”

Not knowing what to do at first, Y/n extends her hand to formally introduce herself, “So you must be the famous, Bob,” butterflies swarm her stomach again by the warmth of Bob’s hand when he goes to shake it. “I’m Y/n. So nice to finally meet you—Bonnie’s told me a lot about you.”

“W-wow,” Bob stutters, mentally hating himself when he does. “It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight, but now I see why Bonnie was so adamant I come.” A pointed look is thrown at Bonnie, who shrugs with a smile like she did no wrong.

“Well seeing as you two found each other without me, I’ll leave you both to it. Bob, let me know if you plan on riding with me back to the house or if you catch a ride. And Y/n I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.” Winking, Bonnie takes the Cosmopolitan Y/n made for her and scurries off, leaving the two alone.

“I should’ve known,” Y/n laughs lightly, topping off Bob’s water. “Your sister has brought you up the past couple times she and I have gotten together,” lips curl into a smirk, “she wasn’t lying when she said you were a cutie.”

Bob turns red, smiling shyly, “when she told me about the inked beauty she worked with, she left out the fact you’re a walking piece of art.” His boldness impressed her, Y/n leaning closer to him against the bar top, resting her elbow on to so she could lean her head on her hand.

“How long are you gonna be in New York?”

“Till Wednesday,” part of her was disappointed that it was only four days away considering it was currently Saturday. But it was enough time for something to blossom.

“Tell me about yourself, Bob. The night’s early and I could listen to you talk for hours. Let’s see if Bonnie was psychic when she said we’d be quite the puzzle when put together.”

Ever heard of the type of couples where the girl radiates black cat energy and the guy is a literal golden retriever?

That was Y/n and Bob to a tee.

Out in public they stood out—even in a city like New York. Then when Y/n went to San Diego to meet his friends for the first time after four months together—which also resulted in her being stuck in California due to lockdown from the covid pandemic—it was like everyone couldn’t believe someone like Bob was with someone like Y/n.

He was a quiet, reserved naval officer and she was a sharp-tongued, world renowned tattoo model. They were the definition of the couple in high school you’d never expect would hit it off.

When Bob introduced Y/n to the squad, they instantly knew who she was, but had different ways of discovering her. Nat saw her walk in the VS Fashion show, Mickey and Reuben recognized her from The Weekend’s cover art, Javy remembered her from an episode of Ink Master she appeared on, Jake saw her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and Bradley actually got a tattoo from Y/n when he was in NYC.

The entire period Y/n was in San Diego she grew close to the squad, even Maverick who had a lot of questions about her work and tattoos. “You think I’d look good with them at my age?” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the question, ensuring the Captain with a pat on the back.

“Some of the sexiest men I’ve met have been your age with ink more in than me,” she giggles when he goes red. “I worked at a biker bar in New York City. Believe me, Pete. Anyone can look good with some ink.”

Needless to say when it came time for Mav to get a tattoo, Y/n was the one doing it.

A lot of the squad ended up getting work done by her. Jake, Mickey and Rooster had a few already so they were familiar with the process. Nat only had one from a drunk night in college, which Y/n redid on her behalf since it had faded. Payback was a man who liked bold, meaningful tattoos so sometimes Y/n had her work cut out for her but she always came through.

“Yo is this gonna hurt bad,” Javy was practically sweating as Y/n removed the stencil from his shoulder. The design was a geometric sun about the size of an airpod case.

“It’ll sting, but this area generally isn’t too painful. If this was your bicep then it’d be a different story.”

Javy didn’t look convinced, turning to look at the guys while the stencil dried, “How was it for you guys?”

“Didn’t hurt at all for me,” Rooster shrugged, “my bicep was worse—like she said.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Payback waved a hand. “You see how tiny it is? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Going over the details once more to confirm the colors and shading, Y/n moved her chair closer after turning on the tv to an episode of Chopped. “You ready, Jav?”

“Ready,” he didn’t really sound like it but it was too late to back out. The buzz of the needle filled his ears and soon the stinging sensation they all said had him clutching his first.

“Try to relax, man” Bob sat on the chair next to Y/n, “being tense won’t help.”

After over a year of dating Bob had his fair share of tattoos. His were mostly small and easily hidden by his uniform. When they first got together, Bob loved learning about her tattoos. When she got them, why she did. If there were any meaning behind certain ones and if she planned to get more.

She was like a walking art gallery. So many colors and styles. Large and small. Y/n told him stories about almost every one—even if they were embarrassing like the inner lip tattoo.

“Biggest mistake,” she wiped a tear after she was done, the two laughing so hard. “Not only did it hurt but it faded not even a year after I got it. Now it looks so bad—I should get it redone but what’s the point when it will just end up looking the same.”

Bob hated when people would give her looks of disproval when they’d go out, usually from those who were unfamiliar with Y/n’s work. One time he nearly got into a bar fight with a older gentleman who thought it was okay to call Y/n a Jezebel. Rooster and Mickey had to hold him back, but Y/n simply looked at the guy and said, “Baby, I’m a fucking millionaire because of these bad boys. While you’re about to kick it the dust I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue magazine next month. So eat shit and die already.” The man was left speechless, making her and the squad smirk in victory. The equally tatted bartender who knew of Y/n whistling and even given her a free round.

“That was so fucking hot,” Bob pulled her into a searing kiss when they left the bar moments later, Y/n smirking against his lips, “You think that was hot? I’m a mess under these pants from seeing you so worked up, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Whenever he and Y/n would cuddle she’d trace the raised ink with a finger, Bob doing the same to hers and committing them to memory. He loved to kiss the ones on her neck and collarbones, but his favorite were the tiny hearts on the palms of her hands.

“What do these mean,” he asked one day during the early days of their relationship. They were laying out on the hammock, taking her hands to admire the collection of small tattoos along her fingers and wrists. He hadn't even realized she had any on the palms until he flipped them over. There his thumbs traced over the red outline of each heart.

“If you ask any person I’ve ever loved or cared for they’d tell you I carry my heart in the palm of my hand,” she flips her hands so they are holding Bob’s, the tattoos against his skin. “So when I hold people’s hands, they know a piece of my heart lies with them.” Letting her head fall back against his shoulder, Y/n shifts so her lips are against his jaw. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re the only one who gets to hold them from here on out.”

Anytime after that Bob would press a kiss to the hearts whenever he held her hands. Then when asked about what tattoo of Y/n’s was his favorite his answer was always, “the hearts.”

His family adored her. At first they were put off by her striking image but learned quickly Y/n was perfect for Bob. The children of his siblings loved taking washable markers to color in the tattoos Y/n had that were black and white. “Can I draw you a tattoo someday?” Little Emma asked shortly after the couple celebrated one year. She was a little artist who loved asking questions about the pretty pictures on Y/n.

“Of course, my love,” she promised. “Draw me whatever you desire and I shall get it done.”

The first fashion show Y/n booked after the pandemic Bob had front row seats. With his phone out he was the ultimate cheerleader, though he refrained from whistling or making noise so as to not embarrass the model, but would be in absolute awe when she strutted past him. It was the Tom Ford show, Y/n had walked out in a long black trench coat, coming to the end of the runway first before removing the item to reveal a silk dress underneath. It was spaghetti strapped with an open back, thigh slit to compliment her legs and the cameras loved it. She walked a few steps back up and turned to strike one last pose before making her exit.

Bob was mesmerized. It was the first time he’d seen her walk the runway and my God if he wasn’t already a simp he sure was then. A photographer captured his reaction to her discarding the coat and it went viral on Twitter.

@ inmyreputationera: if my man doesn’t look at me like @inkedbyY/n bf at NYFW then I don’t want it.

@ Inked✔️: We’re all Bob Floyd when @inkedbyY/n steps onto the runway.

When it came time to pick out her wedding dress Y/n was unsure of the route to go. It’d been five years the two were coming up on, one year of being engaged with the wedding to take place in North Island. A beach wedding in the late fall, Y/n wanted to look elegant and classy.

“Whatever you choose you’ll gonna look amazing, darling,” Bob kissed her head after she sighed when shuffling through bridal magazine pictures of dresses she’d cut out. “You know I love your tattoos—they are a part of you and I don’t want you feeling like you have to cover up for the sake of pictures. Baby, you’re one of the top models in the world. Like you told me when we first met, those babies are what got you discovered. Show them off.” Rubbing her shoulder exposed from her tank top, his lips pressed to the ink covering the skin. “But if you like this,” he pointed to the dress she kept going back to in her pile, it was elegant and pretty with neckline that fell just below her collarbones. “Then you should get it because you love it.”

The ceremony dress ended up being the one with a high neckline. It had open back with Y/n deciding on a her veil cascading down to the floor to become a small train rather than having the dress itself have it. Lace covered her arms, the ink peeking out from beneath to make the material stand out more due to the contrast.

She was stunning. An actual goddess that had Bob’s jaw drop the second his eyes landed on her. For the reception Y/n changed into a white two piece set that showed off her legs.

And you best believe she hired local tattoo artists to do a ‘spur of the moment’ tattoo booth at the party.

It didn’t take long for Inked Magazine to want to do a bridal shoot with Y/n. And if you look at it one way, it was a full circle moment. The issue marked ten years since they discovered Y/n and blessed her with the career of a lifetime that led her to meeting the love of her life.

All because she had a knack for getting ink.

……………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa