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creamflix · 2 days ago

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

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

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

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

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you tried to play it off with a shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

a moment later, your phone buzzed with his reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s now or never, huh?

“hey,” he called softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

toji chuckled. “you sure can, kid.”

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

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

megumi winced. “uh… oops?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“look, i got engaged last night.”

a beat of absolute silence.

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

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

dead silence again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he was actually… engaged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“toji proposed last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

toji raised an eyebrow. “dragon fountain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

first, there was the venue selection.

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

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

then came the color scheme.

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

the final choice?

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

then there was the music situation.

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

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

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

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

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

and his absolute favorite title for you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the pre-wedding festivities were somehow even wilder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fein by travis scott. blaring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you know, at the bachel-her party.”

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

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

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

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

“okay, okay, i’m fixing it —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“selectively conscious?” toji repeats, eyebrows raised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nah, kid, he’s… he’s just really appreciating the art of, uh, selective consciousness,” toji says, ruffling megumi’s hair.

gojo swoops down, putting his hands on megumi’s shoulders. “you’re absolutely right, young megumi. you know, you have a strong sense of observation. very wise of you.”

“thanks,” megumi says, puffing his chest up, as if the compliment has suddenly made him five years older. he looks over at geto.

“uncle geto, are you gonna fall asleep now?”

geto waves a lazy hand in the air. “nah, i’m just… uh… recharging.” he attempts to give a thumbs up, but it’s more of a half-hearted flop.

toji sighs, looking at you with a smirk. “we’ve gotta start taking megumi to different family gatherings.”

you grin back, watching as megumi, with utmost seriousness, turns to shoko. “don’t let your cigarette fall in your wine, auntie shoko. it’ll taste funny.”

shoko salutes him, barely holding in a laugh. “don’t worry, kid. i got it handled.”

just then, gojo raises his glass to the chocolate dragon again. “to the majestic beast, who has blessed us with chocolate and a fountain! long may it reign!”

“it’s a fountain, not a king,” megumi says, frowning. “and it’s chocolate, not magic.”

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my young padawan,” gojo says with mock seriousness, kneeling down to megumi’s height. “tonight, everything is magic.” he waves a hand around as if he’s casting a spell, and megumi’s eyes widen, half-believing him, even as he tries to stay serious.

toji rolls his eyes, laughing. “all right, let’s wrap this up before someone thinks you’re actually casting spells on my kid, gojo.”

as you lead megumi back, he tugs on your hand, whispering, “mama, are they always this… funny?”

“always,” you whisper back, grinning. “but don’t tell them that. we’ll just let them think they’re profound.”

“okay,” megumi whispers, stifling a giggle as he steals one last glance at the chocolate dragon.

the night’s finally winding down, and somehow, all of you have ended up sprawled in the open venue like you’re camping under the stars. shoko’s leaning back in her chair, taking a deep drag of her cigarette, but she keeps glancing at megumi, who’s sitting between you and toji and nodding off in your lap, his little head bobbing up and down.

“you know, i’m not trying to be a bad influence,” shoko mutters, trying to angle her cigarette away. “but it’s hard being an icon.”

toji smirks, watching her struggle. “yeah, we all know you’re a real role model, shoko. a true beacon of health and wellness.”

“hey, i’ll have you know i haven’t let this thing drop once tonight,” she says, demonstrating by carefully holding it at a ridiculous angle. “takes precision.”

meanwhile, geto’s leaning against the chocolate fountain — completely passed out, slumped over like he’s waiting for the chocolate to baptize him. you can already see a smear on his collar where it’s dripped, and it’s only a matter of time before it’s all over him.

“is he just gonna… sleep there?” you ask, stifling a laugh as you glance at geto’s chocolate-streaked suit.

gojo, lying on the grass like he’s sunbathing, starts belting out, “she thought it was the ocean, it’s just the pool —”

“oh god,” toji groans, “don’t tell me you’re singing sicko mode right now, gojo.”

“don’t disrespect a banger, toji,” gojo says, eyes closed, waving his hands around like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra. “this is the music of our generation.”

shoko snorts, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “what generation is that? ‘trashy late twenties’?”

“more like ‘perpetual adolescence,’” you add, trying not to laugh too loud, lest you wake megumi.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” gojo mumbles, now onto the next verse and fully invested. “i am the culture.”

toji raises his eyebrows, giving you a look. “i don’t remember ‘culture’ looking this drunk.”

“or this dramatic,” you reply, glancing over at geto. “do you think he’ll wake up covered in chocolate?”

“oh, definitely,” toji says, nodding with mock seriousness. “he’ll be sticky for days.”

“wonder what he’ll tell people when they ask about it,” you say, grinning.

“just gotta tell them it’s part of the, uh, life experience,” shoko says, flicking ash off her cigarette. “you know — ‘don’t go to weddings with chocolate fountains.’”

“or uncles with questionable song choices,” toji adds, glancing at gojo.

“excuse me,” gojo slurs, sitting up to squint at you both. “my taste is immaculate.”

megumi stirs, blinking up at you with sleepy eyes. “why’s uncle gojo yelling?”

“he’s not yelling, sweetheart,” you say, petting his hair as he leans back against you. “he’s just… expressing himself.”

“in a way that makes us all wish we were deaf,” toji adds under his breath.

gojo points a finger, swaying slightly. “hey, the kid gets it. you get it, right, megumi?”

megumi yawns, nodding seriously. “i get it, uncle gojo.”

“see?” gojo says, looking triumphant as he turns back to you all, gesturing like he’s just won an argument. “my number one fan.”

shoko rolls her eyes, snubbing her cigarette out and pulling out another. “well, congrats on your massive fanbase.”

megumi glances at you, then at gojo sprawled out on the grass. “is uncle geto gonna be okay?”

you look over at geto, still fast asleep, chocolate slowly trickling down his sleeve. “yeah, honey, he’s fine. just a little… messy.”

“very messy,” toji agrees, chuckling. “just… don’t touch his suit when he wakes up. he might, uh, have some sticky spots.”

megumi nods sagely, as if absorbing some profound wisdom. “got it, daddy.”

gojo squints up at the sky, suddenly philosophical. “you know, someday, this kid is gonna be sitting here with us, yelling sicko mode with his whole heart.”

toji raises an eyebrow. “oh, over my dead body.”

“and shoko will still be lecturing us about cigarette angles,” you add.

shoko raises her glass. “as long as this fountain keeps flowing, i’m here, people.”

you and toji exchange a glance, each of you feeling a little warmth at the ridiculous, messy sight in front of you: shoko trying not to ash on megumi, gojo doing terrible karaoke on the grass, and geto about to wake up covered in chocolate.

“found family, huh?” you murmur, nudging toji.

“the best kind,” he says, slinging an arm around you and giving you a soft smile. “drunk as they may be.”

the hour finally ticks to a close, and as much as you’re all reluctant to end the night, it’s time to gather your things — and your people. the first challenge: waking up suguru, who, by this point, is practically glued to the chocolate fountain.

“alright, gojo,” toji says, clapping him on the shoulder, “time to work that charm of yours and wake him up.”

gojo, slightly wobbly himself, crouches down beside suguru and starts lightly patting his face. “rise and shine, buddy,” he says, voice soft but persistent. “time to say goodbye to your chocolate fountain dreams.”

suguru stirs, eyes fluttering open, and as he groggily lifts his arm, he finally notices the chocolate smeared from his shoulder to his wrist. his eyes widen in absolute horror.

“wha… why am i covered in —”

“chooccoolate!” gojo singsongs, smirking.

and then, in a flash of inspiration (or tipsy madness), he starts singing, “i get those goosebumps every time —”

suguru visibly cringes, letting out a low groan as he struggles to stand. “i swear, satoru, if you keep singing travis scott, i’m never inviting you to another wedding.”

“but you’re never getting married, suguru,” shoko points out dryly, lighting her cigarette with a sly grin.

toji and you exchange a look as suguru desperately tries to wipe chocolate off his shirt with the tiniest napkin available. meanwhile, gojo’s at his side, still humming “goosebumps,” ignoring every glare suguru shoots his way.

“satoru, i’m going to kill you,” suguru mumbles, half-heartedly, as he inspects the damage.

gojo just shrugs, beaming. “c’mmoonn, sugu boo. who else can say they’ve bathed in chocolate at a wedding?”

suguru gives a low growl, eyeing gojo’s still-grinning face. “considering how close you are to me right now, it might be your last experience.”

“oh, lighten up, chocolate boy,” gojo teases, attempting to wipe some of the chocolate off suguru’s cheek with his sleeve. “besides, what’s a wedding without a little mess?”

megumi, watching this exchange with wide eyes, tugs on your sleeve. “mama, do all weddings end like this?”

you chuckle, ruffling his hair. “only the good ones, sweetheart.”

as you finally start herding everyone out, suguru’s still muttering darkly about chocolate-stained suits and “inappropriate” song choices, while gojo is just barely resisting the urge to belt out the next verse of goosebumps.

“you guys are a mess,” toji says, shaking his head with a smile, his arm around you. “but i guess i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“same here,” you reply, smiling back. “same here.”

all of you pile into the limo, grateful for suguru’s one stroke of foresight, booking this ride while everyone was still sober. as you maneuver your wedding dress inside, megumi insists on climbing onto your lap, declaring with all the authority of an eight-year-old, “mama knows how to hold me right.” he gives toji a pointed look, as if his dad’s lap-sitting skills just aren’t up to par.

“excuse me, kid,” toji grumbles, adjusting his position to give you both more space. “i think i know a thing or two about carrying you. who else makes you pancakes every sunday?”

megumi shrugs, completely unfazed. “pancakes are great, daddy, but mama gives better cuddles.”

you stifle a laugh, giving toji a look of faux pity. “don’t take it personally,” you say with a grin. “he’s right, after all.”

suguru, meanwhile, is eyeing your dress with near-maniacal caution, inching away as if any move might accidentally graze you with chocolate. “i swear,” he mutters, inspecting his own suit for stray smudges, “if this dress ends up looking like a chocolate fountain threw up on it, i’m sending blondie the dry-cleaning bill.”

“hey!” gojo’s leaning halfway out of his seat, one arm slung dramatically around shoko, who looks five seconds away from needing a cigarette fix. “don’t bring me into this! i’m innocent in all things chocolate.”

“satoru, you literally shoved my face into it,” suguru deadpans, “and serenaded me while you did it.”

gojo waves this off, now onto more important matters as he leans in and rambles, “you know, what’s really baffling is political and economical state of the world right now. that’s the real travesty here. and i’m telling you, if they’d just let me —”

shoko groans, pressing her head against the window. “does anyone have a cigarette? please? my kingdom for a cigarette.”

“sorry, shoko,” you say, chuckling. “think of it as part of the wedding cleanse experience.”

as the limo cruises through the city streets, carrying your chaotic found family toward your new home — the fushiguro household, now your household — you lean back, looking around at everyone. suguru, still chocolate-stained but pretending he’s fine; gojo in full-on philosophical mode about everything from global warming to city planning; shoko, pressing her hands together in mock-prayer for a nicotine miracle; and megumi, snug and content in your lap, his eyelids growing heavy as he fights off sleep.

toji catches your eye and reaches over, intertwining his hand with yours, a soft smile gracing his face. “ready to make this house our home?” he murmurs.

you squeeze his hand, taking in the laughter, the exhaustion, and the overwhelming happiness filling the limo. “more than ready,” you say, your heart swelling as you look around at this motley crew you wouldn’t trade for anything.

it’s a mad, loud family, but it’s yours.

as everyone practically spills out of the limo, gojo’s in full swing with the limo driver, pressing a crumpled wad of cash into the poor man’s hand.

“no, no, you don’t get it, dude,” gojo slurs, with a look of utmost sincerity. “this — this is not just money. this is… appreciation. this is the currency of human kindness.” he pats the driver on the shoulder, swaying a bit as he leans closer. “use it wisely… maybe buy yourself a castle. or a yacht. or a little… dog. something that’s life-changing.”

the driver gives an awkward thumbs-up, flashing a quick glance at the rest of you, clearly wondering if he needs to call someone to get gojo home safely.

meanwhile, toji’s already wrangling everyone toward the door, shoko dashing past him the moment the suite door opens. “please tell me you still keep an emergency stash,” she says, practically sprinting toward the mini bar. “for my sanity.”

“yeah, yeah, knock yourself out,” toji mutters, eyeing the chaos that’s just ambled into his home. as he does, megumi somehow finds himself perched on gojo’s shoulder, practically screeching as gojo does a wobbly loop around the living room, giggling, “it’s cuddle time! everyone needs to embrace the love!”

“uncle gojo, put me down!” megumi’s half-exasperated, half-amused as he tries to wriggle free. “i don’t need cuddles, okay?”

gojo gasps as if megumi’s words are a personal affront. “excuse me? everyone needs cuddles! it’s essential for growth! and happiness! don’t deny yourself, little one.”

suguru slumps onto the sofa, still blinking himself awake from his chocolate coma. but unfortunately, his landing spot is also where a chunk of melted chocolate has found its new home.

he sighs in defeat, barely lifting his hand to wave at toji. “i swear i didn’t bring the chocolate here. it… it followed me.”

toji’s had just about enough. “alright, everybody, listen up.” he points at gojo, megumi, and suguru, who all look up like chastened kids caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“before any of you touch anything else in my suite — or each other — go change. now.”

“but i am changed,” gojo protests, arms flailing out as if to display his wrinkled suit as high fashion.

“changed by the power of love. and a little bit of persephone wines, which, by the way —”

“clothes, satoru,” toji says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he ushers everyone down the hall. “as in, ones that aren’t covered in alcohol, chocolate, or other questionable substances.”

megumi looks up at you, tugging on your dress. “do i have to change too? ‘cause i’m fine just like this.”

you smile down at him, patting his messy little head. “just pajamas, okay? then we can all cuddle up on the big bed. sound good?”

“okay, mama!” he says, darting off to grab his pjs, excitement back at full force. “hurry up, everyone! daddy said so!”

as you and toji finally manage to herd everyone toward the bedrooms and out of their various states of disaster, you can’t help but laugh. this, somehow, is the perfect end to your wedding night — a makeshift family piled up in a cozy heap, as unconventional and chaotic as ever, but perfectly yours.

in megumi’s room, you and shoko finally get a chance to breathe, away from the chaos. you pull out one of toji’s oversized shirts and a pair of shorts, feeling instantly cozy as the familiar scent of him settles around you.

meanwhile, shoko slips into a t-shirt of yours and some spare leggings you’d left for nights just like this — megumi’s last-minute “you have to stay!” pleas that always won you over.

as shoko pulls the t-shirt down, smoothing it over her frame, she gives you a little smirk. “well, don’t we look like a couple of sleepover queens?”

“only the best for auntie shoko,” you say, giving her a playful nudge.

shoko rolls her eyes, leaning back against megumi’s wall. “speaking of… i was thinking.” she pauses, letting out a sigh, her fingers absently running through her hair.

“maybe i could… y’know, try and cut down on the smokes. for megumi. last thing i want is him being a passive smoker every time ’m around.”

you smile at her, feeling a swell of warmth at the thought. “oh, shoko. you don’t have to change anything for him — he already adores you just the way you are.”

“yeah, but…” she shrugs, looking down at her hands, uncharacteristically shy. “i wanna be around. y’know? like, really around. and if that means giving up a little bit of my precious nicotine, then…” she huffs, as if the idea is both noble and annoying. “then i’ll do it. for him. but only because he’s the cutest kid i know.”

“you’re really going soft on me here,” you tease, watching her with a grin.

she laughs, nudging your shoulder. “don’t get used to it. i’ll still talk trash about satoru and his ‘save the world’ speeches every chance i get. but…” she pauses, catching your eye with a slight smirk.

“i don’t know, this whole… you and toji thing, it’s made me think a little differently. like, maybe i could be the cool aunt without corrupting the kid entirely.”

you chuckle, nodding. “hey, a little bit of corruption isn’t the worst thing. but i know what you mean. it’s nice, isn’t it? having this… makeshift family?”

“nice? it’s downright ridiculous,” shoko scoffs, but her eyes are soft. “i mean, i spent the last hour watching suguru melt into a chocolate-covered mess and satoru wax poetic to the limo driver, all while toji was trying to keep from strangling the lot of us. and now here we are, pretending to be responsible adults.”

“that’s the beauty of it, though,” you laugh. “none of us really knows what we’re doing, but somehow it just… works.”

shoko smiles at that, a real, genuine smile, her usual sarcasm melting away for just a moment. “well, whatever it is, i’m in. auntie shoko, reporting for duty. megumi’s gonna be spoiled out of his mind, and if anyone tries to mess with him, they’ll have to go through me first.”

you laugh, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “he’s lucky to have you.”

“nope,” she says, leaning in and bumping her forehead against yours. “we’re all lucky to have each other.”

there’s a comfortable silence, the two of you just sharing the moment in a quiet way that doesn’t need any more words. a kind of unspoken understanding hangs in the air, one that only comes from years of friendship and late-night heart-to-hearts like this.

and as you both start to head out, you catch her glancing back at megumi’s room with a soft expression, the tiniest hint of a smile lingering on her lips.

down in toji’s room, it was another brand of chaos entirely. gojo was sprawled across the bed, bouncing his leg impatiently as he kept knocking — more like pounding — on the bathroom door.

“yo, ruru! you still smell like a candy shop in there, or are you finally coming out as a functioning human?” gojo called, knocking for what felt like the tenth time.

inside the bathroom, suguru groaned, scrubbing furiously at his arms. “if you knock one more time, satoru, i swear, i will dunk you in a vat of chocolate and make you regret the day you were born.”

gojo cackled, delighted. “you’d have to catch me first, chocolate boy.”

meanwhile, toji was across the room with megumi, helping him into his little pajamas. megumi stood still as his dad tugged his pajama top over his head, looking up with big eyes.

“daddy?” he asked, his voice soft and a little curious.

toji glanced down, smiling. “yeah, kiddo?”

megumi fidgeted with the hem of his pajamas. “does mama get to stay forever now?”

toji’s face softened, and he crouched down to look megumi in the eye, his hand gently ruffling his son’s dark hair. “yeah, bud. she’s with us now. part of our family for good.”

megumi’s eyes lit up, and he tried to stand even taller — he was growing, after all. “so she’ll be here when i wake up every day?”

toji chuckled, nodding. “every day. and every night too, so you don’t have to worry about anything. she’s with us.”

megumi nodded seriously, like he was processing the weight of it all. “i gotta make sure i don’t mess up then.”

toji raised an eyebrow, surprised. “mess up? why do you think you’d mess up?”

“well… i wanna make her happy too,” megumi admitted, glancing down. “like you do.”

toji’s heart melted a little as he hugged his son tightly. “listen, kid. you being you? that’s more than enough to make her happy. trust me.”

megumi looked up, reassured. “okay. i’ll be the best son ever, promise.”

“you already are,” toji said, smiling.

right then, gojo’s voice cut through the father-son moment as he yelled through the bathroom door yet again. “suguurruu! come on, we’re all waiting! we’re a family, we’ve got things to discuss, like who’s picking the next karaoke song, and why it absolutely has to be ‘freak on a leash.’”

suguru yelled back, voice echoing through the bathroom, “for the last time, i’m not doing karaoke, satoru! and if you don’t let me scrub off this chocolate smell in peace, you’re gonna be next!”

toji sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at megumi. “and that,” he said with a smirk, “is the family you’re stuck with now, kid.”

megumi grinned. “good. i think they’re funny.”

“funny’s one word for it.”

the morning after the wedding was supposed to be calm and slow, but the second megumi padded down the hall, any hopes of quiet went straight out the window.

"mama, dad, i gotta go to school!" he said, trying to sound all responsible but still rubbing sleep from his eyes. he even brought his backpack to your room, a whole mini-adult, as if that would magically make everyone get out of bed faster.

toji groaned, wrapping an arm around you to keep you in bed. "can’t he just... skip?" he muttered into his pillow, half-asleep.

before you could answer, an all-too-loud, way-too-enthusiastic voice boomed from the hall.

"time to shine, future valedictorian!" gojo practically sung, bursting through the door in last night’s slightly wrinkled suit, sunglasses on, and his smile at full wattage.

behind him, shoko and geto shuffled in, looking equally disheveled and far too awake for this hour. shoko held up her coffee like it was a badge of honor, and geto just nodded, bleary-eyed, clearly not yet regretting his life choices.

"so," shoko said, pointing to megumi with her coffee mug, "we’re taking the kid to school. it’s what, like, a fifteen-minute trip?"

“yeah,” you mumbled, not even fully awake yet. "are... are you guys seriously doing this?"

megumi's face lit up like christmas. “really? in the limo?” he looked over at his dad with big, excited eyes. "i’ve only ever been dropped off by daddy before, mama.”

toji mumbled something that sounded like, "don't tell your teachers i’m lazy," and rolled back over, pretending to go back to sleep.

"don’t worry," gojo said, waving it off. "cool uncle 1, cool uncle 2, and cool aunty got this."

megumi was practically vibrating with excitement as he tugged shoko’s hand. “can we leave now? pleeeaseeee?"

shoko raised an eyebrow at you and toji. “guess that’s a ‘no’ on you two getting up?”

toji waved them off, still face-planted in his pillow. “take him. we trust you… mostly.”

the limo looked ridiculous in front of the modest little school building.

every teacher on duty stared as gojo stepped out in yesterday’s clothes, still wearing his sunglasses, dramatically opening the door for megumi like he was some hollywood star.

geto leaned out of the window, waving. “our megumi, ladies and gents! future ceo, dragon whisperer, and… what is he into now? legos?”

“legos and iron man,” shoko supplied from the backseat, sipping her coffee and grinning like this was the most fun she’d had in weeks.

megumi hopped out, beaming, as if this was the normal way eight-year-olds arrived at school. "see ya later, cool uncles and aunty!" he called, and waved back at them as he headed up the steps.

one of the teachers, looking absolutely bewildered, approached gojo. "uh, sir? are you megumi’s… guardian?"

gojo held a hand over his heart, like he was moved. "oh, i’m his honorary uncle. the honored one. very honored. super honored. we’re just doing our part as responsible adults, you know?”

shoko snorted from the car. “yeah, responsible adults. let’s not tell his dad about the chocolate fountain incident from last night.”

“or the fact that geto’s gonna have to reupholster his couch,” geto muttered, barely holding back a laugh.

meanwhile, megumi turned back one last time and yelled, “tell mama and daddy i said bye!”

gojo saluted. “will do, young sir! now go conquer the day!”

they all watched him walk in, looking like a pint-sized executive in his little backpack. as soon as the doors closed behind him, shoko sighed. “alright, now who’s up for coffee? because i’m still running on fumes.”

"coffee?" geto asked, deadpan. "we’re gonna need a gallon of it if we’re keeping up with that kid."

as the limo pulled away, gojo turned to them with a grin. “you know, i think we make an excellent drop-off crew.”

“mmhm,” shoko said dryly, shaking her head. “i’m sure the teachers would totally agree.”

as the limo pulled away from the school, gojo, shoko, and geto leaned back in their seats, stretching out like they’d just wrapped up a grueling mission.

“alriiight,” gojo said, kicking his feet up, “where are we headed for breakfast, my esteemed colleagues in chaos?”

“anywhere that’s not serving chicken nuggets or juice boxes,” shoko muttered, eyes barely open behind her sunglasses. “and somewhere with unlimited coffee, because if i have to function at nine in the morning, i need caffeine by the gallon.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head. “how is it that we’re the ones going out for breakfast after crashing their wedding?” he looked at gojo, grinning. “and how are they the ones staying home?”

gojo smirked, crossing his legs. “we’re giving them the gift of peace and quiet. i bet toji’s loving the chance to stay in bed with his lovely wife, all cozy and uninterrupted.”

shoko snorted, leaning over with a conspiratorial grin. “give them fifteen minutes max before they realize we took the limo and left them stranded.”

“oh, toji’s probably still asleep,” geto said, waving her off. “and if not, he’s probably thinking we’re doing him a favor. don’t forget, we’re the ‘cool’ uncles and aunty. we’re just out here, uh…” he paused, raising a brow, “fulfilling our responsibilities.”

gojo cackled. “yeah, we’re absolutely winning the ‘best support system’ award this year.” he held up an imaginary award plaque. “and the winner for best, most responsible friends goes to… the limo crew!”

shoko took a sip of her coffee, laughing. “you’re just mad you didn’t get to be the one carrying y/n in her dress down the aisle yesterday.”

“hey!” gojo gasped, mock-offended. “i was ready, okay? i would’ve been the perfect escort. i even practiced the, you know —“ he mimed holding someone dramatically in his arms. “but no, she insisted on doing it herself.”

geto rolled his eyes, grinning. “it’s her wedding, satoru.”

“yeah, yeah, i know,” gojo said, waving it off. “but it was cute seeing him get all sentimental.” he put on a comically deep voice, imitating toji. “‘come on, baby, we’re gonna go build our life together,’” he said, making exaggerated romantic gestures. “like, okay, toji, way to set the bar high for the rest of us.”

shoko grinned, nudging geto. “hey, suguru, you taking notes? maybe one day you’ll be saying those sappy lines to your wife.”

geto laughed, blushing a bit. “hey, let’s keep the heat on toji, alright? no need to make me the topic of conversation here.”

gojo raised a hand dramatically. “oh, don’t worry, we’ll keep it on toji. like how he’s always acting like mr. tough guy, but the second y/n looks at him with those puppy eyes, he’s suddenly mr. marshmallow.”

“he’s such a marshmallow,” shoko agreed, laughing. “he’ll deny it till the end, but you know he’d do anything for her. i mean, the man threatened a chocolate fountain for her yesterday.”

“let’s not forget he almost punched the caterer over the dessert display,” geto added, grinning. “and that was after he demanded only the best for the ‘mother of his child.’”

gojo clasped his hands together, putting on a dreamy look. “ugh, true love. what an inspiration.”

they all shared a laugh, shaking their heads at the image of toji as the world’s biggest softie for you, his new bride. the limo pulled up to a cute little cafe, and gojo leaned out of the window, calling, “table for the three most responsible adults in town, please!”

as they piled out, geto chuckled. “we are absolutely going to milk this ‘responsible adult’ title all morning.”

“oh, absolutely,” shoko said, walking in. “and i’ll need a bottomless coffee just to keep it going.”

they slid into a booth, ordering way too much coffee and breakfast, ready to dig into a morning full of laughter, snarky jokes, and ridiculous stories.

“to toji and y/n,” gojo toasted, holding up his coffee mug. “may they never know the horrors we’ve saved them from.”

“cheers to that,” shoko said, grinning.

tag: @elysian-chaos @lemonlimecrystal-blog @crunchyholo @cheesecakebroom @inthedarkshadows000 @amayaaaxx @sweetsformysoul @vitoshi @qyuin @mypashionisforfashion @crocodilethesir @starmapz @kyokoyya @lauuriiiz @ciexuvia @blubearxy @coffee-and-geto @lveegsoi @yuminako @cipher-needs-2-sleep

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sskk-manifesto · 3 months ago

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!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#A great episode tbh especially given the low budget. I feel like they really did their very best #And even though what I'm going to say next is probably going to be all critic - because I nitpick things and that's what I always end up–#talking about - I still want to underline that it was a very solid and enjoyable episode!!!#Alright the ss/kk was so 💞💞💞 every scene I had to rewatch twice or thrice akhscbashfb they're so cute!!!#Except for the riding scene tho. That scene gives me massive second hand embarrassment every time I just wish it will end as fast as–#possible pffttt. Mmmmhhh... The drawings weren't even too bad all accounted. My main complain is about the quicksand scene...#I feel like that one should be a slow quiet emotional scene. I never licked the choice of using the song as background soundtrack :/#I feel like it ruins the mood of the scene (it was still good though)#I also... Generally don't like the direction they seem to go for with Akutagawa's character in the anime‚ he seems quite a bit flatter–#compared to how he is in the manga. He can't be angry and evil ALL the time you need to show that softness get through from time to time.#If not what even is the point of his character. Yet in the anime he's angry (and not distraught) when he loses the mine craft and he's–#angry when he's questioning Atsushi about his motifs and he's angry when he's bragging about Atsushi's abilities to Goncharov and he's–#angry when he makes the promise with Atsushi at the end of the episode and eventually he'll be just as angry even when telling Atsushi–#to run away as he's sacrificing his life for him. It is pretty flat at the end of the day.#If I can say something about K/ensho Ono without being killed I think they do contribute to making him feel angry all the time.#But that said it's all probably poor directing choices (or simply choices I don't agree with).#Also‚ about cuts. Usually I try to be lenient about it– I understand it's hard to fit in everything and b/sd already does a very–#good job by adapting the manga almost panel-by panel. It's just that... You skip Akutagawa showing compassion for Atsushi after the–#orphanage director died. You skip Atsushi sharing the same compassion when Akutagawa loses his targed in the mines chase. You skip the–#“Nothing special about that. // I suppose he's far crueler than my own mentor.” line. And sure each of them may be negligible by their own #But together they wave a consistent web of relationship between the two characters you know? And it's a loss to omit them all #Well no mind. Again it was still a great episode overall!!!!#I think the colors in the mines could have been prettier in the mines but we can't have it all #Off to season 4!!! Omg I can't believe we got this far :DDD #random rambles #FINALLY was able to catch up in time for the season 3 finale!!!!!!

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undercoverangell · 24 days ago

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my dad, the only person in the home who needs a truck, decided that a good idea was not to buy me a used toyota corrolla and just keep the perfectly adequate truck he already had, but to buy himself a fancy “old man car” and give me the truck i did not need. this proceeds to cause problems bc it turns out he still needs a truck and now does not have a truck except the one that is in my name and now routinely just has to steal my car whenever he needs to go to home depot or haul a trailer. surely no one could have predicted this.

#mild rant #i told him so many times i dont care what car i get so long as its like small and can drive.#so of the course the play was give me a massive 6 searer suburban #oh my GODDDDDDD #i am going to SCREAM #you did not need a new car dude!!!! you had one!!!#it just pisses me offff bc for like. 3 years it was ‘oh it has to be used and under this budget’#‘ohh we cant do a dealership i dont trust them’#‘cant be anything but this brand’#(proceeds to buy a new car way over the budget i was given at a dealership)#like ohhh okay so those actually werent problems unless it was me !!!#motherfucker!!!!

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mantisgodsdomain · 1 month ago

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We are just now realizing that still being on the short list of kitten fosterers means that we're going to be having to handle weaning five 3-4 week old kittens that need to be fed every few hours while also having university four to six hours a day and honestly, that's not going to be very fun. We'd say "maybe we should have taken on less art challenges this year" but honestly we've been having a great time with the art challenges it's just the 4-6 hours of school that's been rapidly eroding our soul

#we speak #one of them is still feral enough to hiss at us and we've already been overlapping Older Kitten Socialization with our other junk #god. you don't realize how much free time you have until you lose it we guess. this is why we've been unemployed for the past 4 years #...outside of the disability we mean #god. how did we survive this the first time. every time we attend any educational institution we gain so much sympathy for kids and teens #imagine having to go through this shit for eight hours a day AND no one respects your autonomy so you can't even leave #AND a bunch of places have bullshit laws that makes it a legitimate crime for you to not be trapped in a tiny box like this #for eight hours a day #man. yknow sometimes we see kids online being dumb or uneducated or whatever and think that theyre cunts #but then we remember how much of a blatant human rights violation a lot of school is and we're like. man.#sure it would help if any of them actually looked shit up but honestly children are failed by the school system to a massive extent #and it's a miracle that we made it out of our own school experience with as much willingness to learn as we did #because it's genuinely fun to acquire new skills and knowledge and the current school system is set up in such a way #that it literally creates a pathological avoidance to the things and environments that are taught in it #like man we loved math as a kid and then school crushed that out of us with a burning passion #and now we flounder with budgeting. both because of the need to use every single piece of everything and not Waste things from upbringing #and because trying to sit down and actually legitimately budget things is irreversibly associated with math from school #which has of course contributed to our current poor money habits where if we spend money on anything it has to Last #and if it can't Last then it haunts us for the next fifteen years #children should be allowed more leeway online not only because they are still learning how existing Works #but because everyone and their dog is determined to make it impossible for them to pick what they want to do with their bodies and lives #honestly we think it contributes to this current puritanism thing. need permission to do anything. need an authority #these kids arent ever given the chance to be themselves without being told what to do. no wonder they flounder without an authority figure

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parchmentknight · 6 months ago

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been watching a lot of keyboard vids again and that re-spurred my interest, so have some more asmr of my board. i thought this would be my end-game keeb (how naive of me, thinking that my first keyboard would be my end-game keyboard) because i achieved thock, but now im searching for true Cream. ah, for another day.

also sorry if u hear a background sound my tablet sucks at recording audio

#also dont worry about what those words mean. but also search up “my final creamy keyboard” by lil soosh on yt #currently striving for that #without having to buy freaking PORCELAIN KEYCAPS???#i do not have money for those #also i do not like the keycap profile sorry #im all about more rounded profiles like xda or kam instead of cherry #i heard gateron milky yellow pros are a great budget switch that can achieve cream or thock #depending on the lu.be and how much u use #so.#also since my current board is a massive 100 percenter i am probably going to get something smaller #compact. like a 70-80% board. not super into the smaller boards like the 60% (or less). i like my silly little buttons #rivera writes #keyboards #custom keyboard #keebs #asmr #audio #rivera lore

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celepeace · 1 year ago

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Genuinely with the death of nintendo handheld low-cost games that came with the switch, as every continuing handheld series became a switch series and thus had a price increase, a lot of their most kid-friendly franchises have become more and more inaccessible to children, especially now that nintendo has decided to follow every other major console and has started pricing new games even higher.

And now that a lot of these series are so old and thus a lot of their fanbase has aged into adulthood, a lot of these series would benefit greatly from making some of the new entries more adult-oriented. But nintendo very stubbornly wants to keep their main franchises as kid-friendly as possible, sometimes severely restricting the potential of these series by not allowing them to explore things like more complex mechanics, higher difficulty, or darker topics that past entries have brushed over in favor of keeping the age rating low. Pokemon's core battle engine has been in want of an overhaul for years now, and Legends Arceus kind of did that but not wholly, for example.

This would be pretty understandable in the interest of keeping every entry of these series accessible to all age groups, but with inflating prices, who are these games even for anymore? A normal kid with your average allowance from their parents isn't going to be able to afford tears of the kingdom or even $60 pokemon games more often than not. Back when these games were $30-$40, sure, if they saved up, but now many families have even tighter budgets than ever due to the rising cost of living. Nintendo is pricing themselves out of their target audience while simultaneously leaving their adult fans who have been with them since childhood to feel neglected in favor of exclusively making games for today's children.

Obviously nintendo will always make sales because even though they make children's games, they're still fun as hell for a person of any age, and many kids will be able to afford their games once in a while, but it does feel like they're kind of... making their games for an audience that barely exists.

#i do hope the success of legends arceus leads gamefreak to branch out more into other formats beyond what you typically expect from pokemon #that game's massive success does show there is a market for more atypical pokemon games with higher difficulty #but that's not my main point. my point is that the video game industry is kind of hurtling towards unsustainability #it used to be that video games were made on shoestring budgets and coded by some of the most inventive people of the time #utilizing poor hardware so they were forced to optimize optimize optimize #and you could buy them for pretty reasonable prices #i mean. as it is with everything. the video game industry transforming into a competition between giants has been bad for product quality #at least indie game devs exist. carrying on the legacy of the first few decades of video game development #making games that are either for kids or for adults rather than trying to be equally appealing to all age groups #which is an impossible balance to strike without leaving one demographic or another unsatisfied #also not to be an old man but why are nintendo games so fucking easy nowadays #pokemon treats you like you don't know the block goes in the square hole #back in my day video games were hard and didn't hold your hand constantly and we LIKED it #are kids more stupid than they were 15 years ago? no. obviously kids aren't getting dumber #so why do games have to treat you like you're an idiot?

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fingertipsmp3 · 1 year ago

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Like okay. I’m glad I’m my father’s daughter but also do I have to, on every level, be my father’s daughter

#like okay. looking Exactly Like Him i can deal with. the round face and chubby cheeks and dark eyes and thick hair? good #the height and the massive shoulders are extremely useful when weird men try anything. i just stand up and end their careers #but did i HAVE to get his hypermobile knee joints?? is that something i really had to be dealing with????!???#also i just want to point out that he fucked them up playing cricket. i didn’t even get to play cricket. i have so far dislocated my right #knee four times just by falling down in my house (thrice) and at work (once)#the whole thing where i’ve inherited his habit of sitting in the corner with a book and a cup of tea and not resurfacing is fine #i can deal with it. also lurking in the doorway watching tv and forgetting about the food i was making. and taking a bath for like 2 hours #with a book. regular. and liking dogs #did i have to be oblivious with money though? did i have to be incapable of budgeting??#did i have to get his temper?? i mean i haven’t thrown anybody through a glass door yet but liiiiiike #i’ll catch myself in a cold rage doing something toxic or petty or just downright unacceptable and be like hmm. who does THIS remind me of #perhaps my father politely asking his neighbour to not mow his lawn at 5am and them; when the neighbour refused; leaving the radetsky march #playing full blast on repeat and going away for a weekend #also!! the competitive bullshit. what kind of father NEVER lets his kid win a game. like not even once #my dad that’s who. i don’t think i ever once beat him at anything. maybe one day i would have #i just miss him. but in a way he’s not really gone. he passed on so much of himself to me and then left #personal

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judarud · 1 year ago

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Look, it cant get any worse than it curently is, hollywood already hit rock bottom in terms of quality the only way to go is up!

“Hollywood is gonna grind to a halt!! Nothing new will come out!! What then??” The shows and movies I haven’t seen already are literally countless and also I am a serial rewatcher

#its probably not going to improve #the writter behind a lot of modern crap #are also behind the strike #but the worse thats.gonna happen #which I think is the most likely.to happen #should it succeed #is they're gonna use their demands to give the insiders cushy positions #and leave the rest to dry #which is exactly whats going on right now #so its.not gonna be a big change.#I just hope hollywood dies out #that would be a great boon to humanity!#The actually capable creatives will be able to carry on #they'll just have to co tent themselves with low budget productions #maube a short dry spell as the country adapts to the loss of influence of massive studios.

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nyancrimew · 6 months ago

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can you explain the ai thing to me as though I were a small child I am in fact very stupid and don't understand what the point being made was supposed to be

the point i am trying to make it that ai is fundamentally a labor issue (and just more broadly a capitalism issue) and should be treated as such, any attempts at trying to classify what makes something "not real art" is a slippery slope leading towards fascism and fundamentally irrelevant in the fight against unethical (uses of) AI. the same goes for any attempts at just making copyright laws more strict, this has never helped any independent artists and never will, at best it'll make any sort of derivative art (including fanart, remixes, collages, etc) basically impossible to do unless you're a massive corporation with an unlimited legal budget.

#as a matter of fact independent artists would benefit greatly from copyright being loosened but that's a discussion for another day #and when i have more energy

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cleo-fox · 1 year ago

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Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?” he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation.

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later.

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together.

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it.

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh.

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit.

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net.

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly.

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar.

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say.

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine.

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee.

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tva loki x reader

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elainemorisi · 2 years ago

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definitely a large helping of I dunno, coping, probably. but jesus christ, in some ways the steep slide into blatantly obvious evil, ruinous, cruelty-as-point shit of the past several years is starting to convince me that some version of a milquetoast utopian future is possible, actually, in a way I have never believed before. because actually like, yeah, a fuckton of current problems would diminish significantly if We As A Society prioritized different things, in a pretty top down, structure of bureaucracy and government and systems, independent of personal virtue or revolutionary enlightenment, way

#yeah yeah I don't believe in evil as a thing it's still a useful shorthand sometimes #I will always believe personal virtue is bullshit #I have never fully believed that restructuring is bullshit; I love restructuring. but like.#I think it's the scales falling from the eyes re: genuine good-faith disagreements with the other side?#like not in a 'gasp! Reagan didn't really believe he was helping!' way #like to be clear I in absolutely no way think the milquetoast utopian future is remotely likely #but it's just like... there is absolutely no reason a substantially similar nation in a substantially similar world #could not make a massive investment in I don't know let's say K-12 teacher training + paying a la mid 20th century R&D #and green energy and begin to aggressively redesign away from the car and single payer and yadayadayada #and no vast Enlightenment Of The Soul would necessarily follow or actually that much precede #and like I dunno I have always believed in the power of The Right Structures and idiocy of the military budget etc etc #so I can't quite put my finger on what I am saying is different here #but shrug! feels different #there is definitely much more hate in my heart because all this is so relatively straightforward NOT in fact asking much of anyone and yet #but also even more pessimism and dispassion than the large amounts there've always been #I've just never really believed in The Possibility Man y'know #in vastly different imaginings yes and in meaningful improvements to reality yes #even when feeling generous to the theoretical maybenever of enlightening revolution!#but not that bit in the middle I guess

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thatdisasterauthor · 5 days ago

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@teagantheamazing Hope you don't mind, but I wanted to pull this reply out to talk about a little more in depth, because I think it is important that people understand this as we move forward.

Also, I am speaking as a private citizen here, not as an employee of the Forest Service.

In the United States, wildland fire response is handled at three basic levels: Federal, State, and Local.

Federally, it is further broken down into the Bureau of Land Management and the Forest Service. (Some parks have their own fire crews as well, but that varies from park to park, and they're usually still technically Forest Service.) There's really not a ton of difference between the two aside from whose name is on your paycheck. Pay is the same across each, structure is the same across each, training is the same across each. Federal crews and resources are, generally, the main and biggest responders to wildfires because wildfires tend to happen primarily on federal lands.

At the state and local level things vary a lot from state to state. You can have things like the Colorado Division of Fire Prevention and Control in Colorado and Cal Fire in California, and you can have local structure departments that also have wildland divisions and/or training. Some of the local departments will be volunteer. State and local responders also work closely with federal responders, but how much and for how long varies from fire to fire.

Then, on top of all of that, you have private/contract crews. They are what it says on the tin: private crews of firefighters. Some of these crews are great! Very professional, very skilled. Others are...ah...not.

Now, what I am concerned about specifically as we head into this new administration is what is going to happen at the federal level. As I mentioned in the original post, the Forest Service is already struggling. It has ALWAYS been struggling. Without giving you a whole huge history lesson, the Forest Service was founded in the early 1900s by Teddy Roosevelt to protect public lands and preserve them for future use. People threw a FIT about it, specifically people who wanted to basically strip mine the forests for every single available resource. Taft was elected after Roosevelt and basically started undoing everything his predecessor had done. The budget for the Forest Service was destroyed, protections were rolled back. The only reason the Forest Service survived was because in 1910 there was a MASSIVE fire. It was, at the time, unprecedented and the Forest Service was able to use it to lobby for better funding going forward. But the same cycle has repeated ever since. An administration that doesn't value conservation will come in, shred the budget, there will be deadly consequences that make the next administration pad the budget some, and then it will start again.

It's a lot like people who stop taking their medicine because they think they're cured since they feel better, but they only feel better because they were taking their medicine.

So what happens now? Well, it's already happening and it happened under Biden, and will only get worse under Trump. To keep it simple, there are two kinds of federal employment: seasonal, and year-round. Most of the federal Forest Service jobs are seasonal, because the work is seasonal. This includes firefighters, but it also includes things like park rangers and trail maintenance crews. From late spring to early fall there are tooooons of people working. Then, the rest of the year, its a skeleton crew of year-rounders doing mostly maintenance work, controlled burns, paperwork, stuff like that.

Now, with all of that said, here is where we stand at this specific moment: the decision has already been made that the Forest Service will not be hiring seasonal workers outside of firefighting next year. This means no seasonal park rangers, no seasonal maintenance people, none of that. This means next year parks are going to be a MESS. Bathrooms will not be cleaned regularly, campgrounds will not be maintained, trails will not be maintained, and a ton of other stuff. The year-rounder skeleton crew will be all we've got. And, crucially, there will be less professionals monitoring the woods looking for new fires. Rangers, even ones not working directly on fire stuff, are a crucial level of protection for spotting and reporting fires.

Secondary to that is the pay issue. Even if you're a year-rounder, the pay is abysmal. Your average out the gate, newbie wildland firefighter is going to make around $17/hr base pay if they work for a federal agency. Now, there's a ton of random stuff that can bump that pay up even without the retention bonus we're currently getting. You get a night differential and a Sunday differential for starters, and hazard pay when you are actively working a fire, plus there's ALWAYS overtime, sometimes an insane amount of it. Then there's per diem if you are traveling for a fire, and that can be a nice little bump too. But the point/problem is that the pay is VERY unpredictable. You can have a massively busy season and be swimming in money, or you can have a slow as fuck season and end up scrapping by because the base pay isn't enough. The Wildland Firefighter Paycheck Protection Act is supposed to fix this by bumping up the base pay, but that can has been kicked back and forth in the government for yeeeears now.

Now, as you mentioned, people CAN transfer their federal qualifications for fire to state and private crews. It generally pays better if you do. But we do not want to privatize fire response. Given the size of this country, given the spread of the population within it, we have to have a federal firefighting force. Leaving it to the states and private companies will not be enough.

That is where we are starting the new administration: abysmal pay, failing departments, and slimmed back hiring. Given Trump's repeated insistence on slimming down the government, on withholding aid in blue states, on getting rid of things like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (which is also crucial for firefighting), and other things in that vein, I think we are staring down the barrel of a very, very dangerous time.

So, some action items if you want to help:

Call your local representatives and insist they pass the Wildland Firefighter Protection Act NOW, before the new administration comes in. The new administration could still screw it up, but we've gotta at least try.

Be patient and understanding with Park Rangers in the coming years. They are doing their best with what they've got.

Take responsibility for your use of public lands. Clean up after yourself, pick up litter when you see it, and donate if there is a way for you to do so.

Educate yourself and your community on wildland fire even if you don't think you are in a wildland fire prone area. Learn about and implement defensible space around your homes and communities. I'll be doing a lot of education around this going forward, so if you have questions or want help please ask me!

#Wildland Firefighting #Wildfire #Natural Disaster #Fire #Firefighting

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itneverendshere · 1 month ago

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rewatching desperate house wives right now and would love to see a little something inspired by gabrielle and carlos?? maybe season 2 when he's in jail and she wants a conjugal visit. just thought it would be fun, love your work!!!

I'M THE GIRL YOU DIE FOR- r.c

pairing: canon!rafe x queenb!kook!reader

of course, you had to be here.

no one else was going to fight for rafe—certainly not that tired, old man, with his cheap suit and receding hairline.

god, you hated this place. the lighting was terrible, the walls a sad, dull beige that screamed "i give up," and the leather chairs were probably fake.

honestly, couldn’t these people at least pretend to have some standards? guess that’s what happens when you’re not the one cutting the checks.

now, instead of champagne and designer brunches, you were spending your afternoons in a hellhole like this. you stood near the chain-link fence, your sunglasses shielding you from the glaring sun.

in the distance, the inmates were out in the yard, working out, talking in groups, smoking—whatever it was they did to kill time.

who thought it was a good idea to have meetings out here? the yard was full of dirt, sweat, and who-knows-what, and the chain-link fence looked like something out of a low-budget crime show. you flicked a piece of lint off your skirt, more for effect than necessity.

maxwell finally showed up, his face blank, like he wasn’t impressed by the outfit you’d spent an hour putting together. whatever. you were here for rafe, not him.

“we need to talk,” you said, tightening the hold on your birkin like it weighed a thousand pounds. it was designer. it probably cost more than his car.

maxwell didn’t even flinch. “about?”

cheap suit, cheap attitude. honestly, if you weren’t so desperate, you’d be done with this idiot by now.

“about my fiancé.” you tilted your head, giving him your best ‘don’t play dumb with me’ look. “we need a conjugal visit. and i need you to make it happen.”

“a conjugal visit?” he said it slow, like you were asking for a miracle.

“yes.” you smiled tightly. “you know, those things where people in prison get to have a little privacy? i want you to get us one.” you rolled your eyes. god, this guy was infuriating. “isn’t that part of your job? to get what we need?”

maxwell raised an eyebrow. “a conjugal visit isn’t part of the deal. rafe’s charges are serious. i’m trying to get your fiancé out of jail, you want me to stop everything just so you can have a booty call?”

he was acting like you were asking for something outrageous.

as if it wasn’t completely reasonable for you to want to see rafe. really see him. after months. this was rafe cameron you were talking about. he had power. you had power. how could this crusty lawyer not understand that?

“i’m not asking, maxwell. i’m telling you. make it happen.”

“i said no.”

you scowled at him, “all we need is an hour. you can’t tell me no! you work for me, you will make it happen.”

he gave a fake sigh, the kind people did when they thought you were being dramatic.

“listen,” he sneered, leaning in slightly. “i’m not your servant. you don’t get to snap your fingers and expect things to just happen. newsflash—your boyfriend is in prison. not some hotel.”

oh, this smug asshole. you were about to really let him have it when a low voice interrupted from behind the fence.

“you got a problem, lady?”

you turned, eyes narrowing as you saw two inmates standing near the fence, both of them massive. tattoos snaked up their arms, and they looked rough. you’d seen them with rafe before.

maxwell glanced back at them, trying to act tough, “excuse me, but this is a private conversation.”

“private? you’re out here talking loud enough for the whole yard to hear. we heard what you said.” he tilted his head toward you, eyes narrowing on maxwell. “sounds like you’re disrespecting cameron’s girl.”

maxwell stammered, suddenly not so confident. “i—i’m just trying to explain that a conjugal visit is complicated. there are rules—”

“we don’t care.”

the second maxwell started running his mouth, you could already tell he had no idea who he was dealing with. he was still trying to act like he had the upper hand, like he was some big-shot lawyer who could push people around. you almost pitied him. almost. but honestly, he deserved what was coming.

“you’re not gonna get away with this,” he snapped, all bravado, puffing out his chest like that was going to make him any less pathetic. “you think you can intimidate me? i’ll have you all locked up for life if you so much as lay a finger on me.”

you rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses. what an idiot.

the bigger inmate—tank, you’d heard people call him—reached through the fence with a broomstick.

you hadn’t even noticed it before, but he must’ve grabbed it from somewhere nearby. he jabbed it into maxwell’s shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt him, but enough to make his point. maxwell jumped back like he’d been electrocuted.

“hey! what the—” he shouted, trying to step out of range, but tank just laughed and poked him again, this time aiming lower, jabbing him in the ribs.

“you don’t make the rules here, old man,” tank sneered, poking him once more, this time a little harder. “you’re gonna learn that the hard way if you don’t shut your mouth. apologize!”

maxwell’s face was turning red now, panic setting in as he tried to dodge the broomstick, but the other guy grabbed the handle, keeping it steady while tank prodded him over and over, relentless.

“i swear to god,” maxwell was screaming now, voice cracking. “i’ll have the guards throw you in solitary! you’ll never see daylight again, i’ll make sure you rot in here!”

the inmates just laughed, like his threats were some kind of joke. and honestly, they were. you watched, arms crossed, completely unbothered, as maxwell flailed, trying to keep his balance while other inmates jabbed other broomsticks at him, from every side, like he was nothing more than a punching bag.

“you hear that, boys?” tank said, grinning as he poked maxwell one more time. “he’s gonna get us locked up for life! like we’re not already in here.” the other inmate burst out laughing. a few more guys started drifting closer to the fence, watching with interest. “apologize!”

maxwell’s face was pure panic now. “stop it!” he screamed, backing up so far he was almost falling over. “i’m serious, i’ll call the warden, i’ll—this is all her fault, if she wasn’t such a goddamn horny b—”

you gasped, insulted, ready to read him to filth but the inmates beat you to it.

“do it,” the second guy sneered, his voice low and threatening. “see if we care. you think we don’t know how to make things happen? you’d be gone before you even got your phone call.”

a few of them started yelling, and jeering, like they were ready to jump in, too. maxwell’s eyes darted around, realizing that this was spiraling out of control.

“you idiots!” he screeched, his voice high-pitched and panicky. “you’ll start a riot! they’ll lock all of you down—no more yard, no more visits, nothing! you’re gonna screw yourselves over!”

but they didn’t care. the guys on the yard were getting riled up now, shouts echoing across the open space. some of them were banging on the fence, rattling it hard enough to make it shake.

“apologize to the lady!”

one of the other inmates reached through the fence, grabbing at his sleeve, yanking him forward. maxwell screamed, struggling to pull away, but the guy held on tight, his grip ironclad.

“come on, boys!” someone yelled from the yard, and suddenly it was like the floodgates had opened. more and more inmates rushed toward the fence, shouting, banging on the metal, some of them reaching through, trying to get a piece of the action, “apologize!”

you adjusted your sunglasses and turned to leave, your heels clicking against the pavement. you hope they kill him for you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚

you were dressed to the nines, as usual, in a designer dress that probably cost more than what the guards made in a month. even in this drab setting, you looked like you belonged on a yacht, not here, in some depressing room meant for criminals and their girlfriends.

you strutted toward him, your lips glossed to perfection, knowing full well that the bratty smile curling your mouth would drive him insane.

it always did.

rafe was already sitting there, arms crossed, looking as exasperated as you’d ever seen him.

his jaw was clenched, and the muscles there twitched. he was not happy.

you smirked. of course, you weren’t expecting a warm welcome, but at least you got to see him.

“hi, baby,” you purred, batting your lashes as if you weren’t here to make his day harder. “missed me?”

he just stared at you for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to find some ounce of patience. then he let out this long, heavy sigh, rubbing his hand down his face before finally looking at you again.

“you—” he started, then stopped, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek in frustration. “you started a riot because you wanted a conjugal visit?”

you tilted your head innocently, like you didn’t understand why he was so worked up.

“almost,” you corrected, as if that made it any better. “it wasn’t like they actually did anything.” you waved your hand dismissively, the gloss on your lips catching the light as you smiled.

“you—” he stopped, biting the inside of his cheek again, trying to rein it in. he was always like this—prone to temper, to obsession. the need to control everything. especially you. “do you know how close it came to getting out of control? the guards were ready to lock the whole place down. for days. you think that would’ve been good for me, huh?”

you shrugged, not really fazed.

“he was being a dick to me, baby. what was i supposed to do? that lawyer was useless. i wasn’t just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that.”

his eyes dropped to your mouth, unable to resist.

“he was the best lawyer in the fucking county.”

“they clearly need new ones then.”

rafe groaned, trying to keep from losing it completely.

“he almost called me a bitch!”

“were you acting like one?”

“and so what if i was?” you leaned back, crossing your arms, the movement accentuating your designer dress. “he was the one acting like an asshole. he’s lucky i didn’t throw my drink at him. if i’d had one.”

he looked like he was about two seconds away from unleashing his deranged side, rubbing his hand over his face again, like that was going to somehow make all of this disappear.

“you don’t get it, do you? you can’t pull this shit in here, baby. it’s not the fucking outer banks. people don’t just let you get away with whatever you want because you look good and throw money around.”

you rolled your eyes, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

“yeah, well, maybe they should. you don’t see me lowering my standards just because you’re stuck in this dump, do you?” you gestured around the room, your nose wrinkling at the depressing, beige walls. “god, i mean, who chooses these colors? it’s like they want people to lose their minds in here.”

he scoffed, “that’s what you’re worried about? the color of the walls?”

you pouted, “what else was I supposed to do? sit and wait for him to do nothing? ’m not stupid.”

"you're lucky you're even allowed in here after that stunt.”

you gave him a sweet, almost patronizing smile, teeth digging into your lower lip. "aww, baby, are you worried about me?”

"stop," he snapped, "this shit isn’t funny. you think i want to spend the next month in solitary because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"

you didn’t flinch. in fact, you smiled even wider, enjoying how worked up he was getting.

“don’t be so dramatic. it wasn’t like anything actually happened.”

"you're out there playing power games with people who don't care about you,” he tapped two fingers against his temple, brows slightly raised,“they won’t bow down because you’ve got money or a pretty face."

"maybe not, but they’ll listen if i push hard enough," you said coolly. "and guess what? they did."

he clenched his jaw again, running his hands through his growing hair in frustration. he looked like he was fighting every instinct not to explode.

"you really think you're helping me, don’t you?"

you crossed your legs slowly, adjusting your dress so the fabric draped perfectly. “would you rather have me fuck someone else? y’know… a free man?”

that got a reaction. his eyes flickered with something dangerous, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in close.

“you wouldn’t.” he whispered, the words laced with venom and amusement at the same time.

your smile turned wicked. “wouldn’t i?”

his fingers twitched on the table, the way they always did when he was seconds away from grabbing you.

“you’re really testing me right now,” he said slowly, his fingers drumming on the metal table between you. "you think ’m stuck in here, so you can play your little games? make me jealous?”

you held his gaze, unbothered, your lips curling into a defiant smile. "’m just reminding you that i have options. ones that aren’t sitting in a prison cell.”

he chuckled darkly, though there was nothing funny about the look in his eyes.

"options, huh?" his voice was edging on borderline strained. "and what makes you think i wouldn't kill any man who even looked at you?"

"you’d have to catch him first, wouldn’t you? and we both know you’re a little… tied up at the moment."

his hand shot out, gripping your lower cheecks with a force that sent you spiriling, remembering how he used to manhandle you anytime he got his hands on you, your faces were almost touching.

his eyes were wild. possession. obsession. the kind of dark love that made you both feel alive.

“you’re mine. no matter where i am, no matter who else you think you can have. you’re mine.”

“then get the stupid conjugal visit,” you hissed through your teeth, “’m horny.”

“’m not asking you. ’m telling you. you don’t have options sweetheart. you never did.”

you felt your pulse quicken.

god, he was insane, but that’s what made it so intoxicating.

he was right. no matter what you said or did, no matter how much you tried to push his buttons, it always came back to one thing: you belonged to him.

“i’ll get you your damn visit,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, “but ’m not doing it because you demanded it. ’m doing it because you need to be reminded of something.” he leaned back, letting go of your face, his fingers printed into your cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours, “you’re mine. and i’ll make sure you remember that.”

you rubbed where his grip had been, the throbbing sensation making it clear that he hadn’t lost his touch—he never did.

you grinned as you leaned forward, closing the space between you two again, “i’ll be waiting, baby.”

rafe’s smirk widened, his eyes burning with that possessive glint you knew all too well. there was no escaping him, not that you really wanted to.

“enjoy your time behind bars,” you added, standing up slowly, your movements deliberate, making sure he had a full view of your ass as you walked toward the exit. “maybe i’ll find a way to keep myself busy until you get out.”

he didn’t answer, but you could feel his eyes burning into your back as you left the room.

you knew you were pushing him, playing with fire, but that’s how you both liked it. this was the game you played. you couldn’t wait for him to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

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paleopinesofficial · 1 month ago

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An important update to our Paleo Pines Community🦖💙😞

Transcript Below;

Paleo Pines Needs Your Help

A lot of you have been asking what’s next for Paleo Pines and we wanted to provide our community with an update on the challenges we are facing. The sad truth is, the future is uncertain.

For the better part of this year we’ve been working behind the scenes to create a plan for the next iteration of Paleo Pines, filled with stunning new regions, quirky new NPCs, plenty more adorable dinosaurs, plus eggs, babies and - yes - multiplayer. The job after launch seemed simple - listen to our community, provide a roadmap full of updates and DLC to ensure that our players can continue to enjoy the existing world… and double-down on that enjoyment with the plan for bigger, better, shinier Paleo Pines for you to enjoy with friends and family.

We've been searching high and low for a production partner, one that felt your love and passion to help us bring the next Paleo Pines to life. On several occasions in our journey, we were within a few small steps of the finish line, only to have circumstances beyond our control cause the future to fall through.

This isn't happening just to us. It seems the whole indie game scene is facing a sudden drying up of publishing and investment opportunities. Thanks to the unwavering dedication of our small team and the massive love from all of you, we've been able to support the first year of Paleo Pines on a shoestring budget.

We’ve managed to keep the lights on… until now. Unless we can find a partner who is keen to see the Paleo Pines universe grow, we won’t be able to keep our team together for much longer.

So, we’re making our situation public. Here's how you can help:

Do you know a publisher/investor who would be a great partner for Paleo Pines 2? If you're a serious publisher or investor and are interested in seeing a production plan, financial model, game design document and more, please reach out to [email protected]. (By the way, Paleo Pines isn’t the only property we’re working on... Our talented team has a diverse collection of small, medium and large scale projects, for PC, console and mobile. If you’re looking for something fun and a little bit different, get in here.)

Can you help in smaller ways? Every little bit helps! Here are a few ways you can directly support the devs:

Have you got our DLC yet? We've just released our very first Halloween DLCs – a great way to support us while getting more gameplay for yourself.

Still playing the demo? Are we on your Wishlist? Please consider buying the full game today, or in the next sale. We promise it'll bring you hours of dino-tastic joy!

Befriend a Paleo Pines plushie. These adorable creatures aren't just cute, our portion of the sales goes towards development. Our latest, Boo, the albino Styracosaurus, is available now. Our previous plushies helped fund our new Halloween DLCs and free update.

Order Paleo Pines merchandise. We’ve got dozens of fun items celebrating your favourite dinos available in time for gifting this year.

Even if you can't offer financial support, you can still be a hero! Share this post with anyone who might be interested in helping. Wishlist us, buy the game, talk about how it makes you feel, and share share share. The power of community is real, and every share brings us closer to making more Paleo Pines!

The team here can't express enough gratitude to the incredible Paleo Pines community. You've been with us through every step of this amazing journey, from the demo launch to the release last September, and through our adorable plushie collaborations with Makeship. You've become more than players and we couldn't have imagined building this world with a kinder, more supportive group.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for supporting us on this roller coaster of a year since launch, and your patience and understanding with our current situation. Hopefully with your help, this won’t be the end of the Paleo Pines adventure.

Lots of love, The Paleo Pines Team

#paleopines #paleo pines #indie dev #game development #indiedev #indie games #dinosaur #paleoblr

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punkshort · 3 months ago

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Swept Away | Chapter 4: Tropical Heat

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: The first day on Glenn's yacht is much more dramatic than you originally expect.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, sugar daddy/baby vibes, food and alcohol consumption, intoxication, reader gets drunk and snippy, mentions of past infidelity, flirting, sexual tension, jealousy, one tiny daddy reference, nausea/vomiting, joel gets mean but he makes up for it (he sucks at feelings)

WC: 8.5K

Series Masterlist

"I'm so excited for tomorrow. Glenn's yacht is supposed to be massive. Like, full crew, multiple levels. The type you'd usually charter but he actually owns it." Zoe sighed dreamily next to you at the hotel salon. You were listening but your eyes were pinned on your nails, watching as the technician managed to make your hands look like they were out of a catalogue in less than an hour.

"Yeah, that - it sounds really cool," you replied. "Should be fun. Joel said there's some tiny islands we might check out or something."

Zoe nodded excitedly. "Zach said there's one called Monu Island. We're supposed to have dinner there the first night."

"Dinner? How?" you asked. She looked at you like you had two heads.

"The crew brings the stuff to shore for us and cooks?" she said as if she were explaining how to ride a bike. Shit. You probably should have known something like that if you were pretending to be in the upper, upper class.

"Oh, yeah, I knew that," you said with a nervous laugh, "I meant how are they going to get us off that yacht? The more I keep hearing about it, the harder it's going to be to pull me away from it."

Zoe giggled and you inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Maybe you can convince Joel buy one for yourselves. He can certainly afford it," she told you with a wink.

"Yeah, and Zach can't?"

She shrugged, smile still stretched across her face but you could see something shifting in her eyes. "Can I tell you something?"

You nodded and leaned a little closer.

"I don't think Zach's doing very well. Business-wise."

Your eyes widened, encouraging her to continue.

"I don't know for sure, but I have overheard a few conversations and I get the feeling if he doesn't win this bid, his hotel chain is done for."

"Oh, no," you breathed, brows crinkling with concern. "Zoe, I'm so sorry."

She gave you a confused look but quickly recovered. "Oh, thanks. It's no big deal, you know. I'll be just fine."

What did that mean? Zoe would be just fine if Zach went bankrupt? How?

You wanted to press her further but you could tell the door closed. She was looking down at her freshly manicured nails with a huge smile then held them up to your face and wiggled them around.

"What do you think?"

She had picked a white nail polish with a faint hint of sparkle. The color did look very nice against her tanned skin and you told her so right when your technician released your hands, announcing you were all set. Pulling your fingers from the blue light, you admired them up close.

"Alright, I'll admit it. I questioned your color choice before but damn, that looks so pretty on you," Zoe said enviously as she examined your hot pink nails with a glitter top coat.

"Thanks," you gushed, hardly able to tear your eyes away after you left the salon and headed for the elevators. You could count on one hand how many times you ever got your nails done in the past and it was always for a special occasion: prom, a wedding... maybe once when someone got you a gift certificate for Christmas. It felt like such a treat and it gave you a nice little confidence boost.

You waved to Zoe when she got off on her floor, vowing to see each other in the morning bright and early on the dock, then rode the elevator the rest of the way to your floor.

It was difficult to contain your excitement when you entered the room, but you remained quiet because you heard Joel's voice carrying from the living room. He had someone on speaker who was discussing budgets and employee turnover so you snuck past him and headed towards your room to pack.

How much does one person need for two days? Not a lot, probably. But you weren't very clear on the dress code. Was this going to be casual? You already noticed if Glenn organizes the parties, the vibe is much more relaxed but Mary tends to make it a little more formal when she handles things.

After packing a swimsuit, two coverups, one set of pajamas (which you agonized over when you remembered you would be sharing a bed with Joel), and three different options for daytime wear, you went back out into the living room to see if Joel would know what you should pack for the evenings.

"Joel?" you asked softly when you spotted him sitting quietly on the couch with his eyes closed. He tilted his head to the side and slowly opened his eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked. He nodded and stood with a groan.

"Just tired," he said right when his laptop chirped with two new emails. He began to walk towards the table but you were closer. You bravely closed his laptop with two fingers and he froze.

"C'mon, what're you doin'?" he asked, taking another step, but you shook your head and leaned forward, resting your weight on the arm that was holding his computer closed.

"You need to take a break," you told him firmly. He scowled and crossed his arms.

"I'll be takin' a break when we're on the damn yacht."

"Taking a break on the weekend is a given. You work around the clock, Joel, you need to slow down."

"I don't got time for this," he told you with a shake of his head. "I'm busy, I got a company to run."

"Well that's just too bad because I have dresses to try on and I need help picking ones to pack," you told him just as sternly. His eyes flickered up to yours and you could practically see the gears in his head turning. "I think that's far more important than some emails, don't you think?"

His mouth twitched and you could see his face soften and you knew you had him.

"Fine. Ten minutes," he relented. You grinned and skipped off to your room, and only when your back was turned did he allow himself to smile.

Joel sat patiently on your bed while you tried on the handful of dresses you grabbed and put in the bathroom, waltzing back into your room every few minutes with a new one to show him.

"Darlin', I already told you. You look good in all of these."

"Yeah, but which ones are your favorites?" you pressed, doing a little twirl so he could see the back of the pink dress you were currently wearing. "And what will we be doing? Like, how formal are these evenings going to be?"

He shook his head, his eyes glued to the curve of your back when you spun around again. "Not that formal. One night we'll be on the beach, the other night just on the deck."

You nodded and tapped your chin with your finger. Any of the dresses you had would do now that he told you it wasn't that formal, but you were pushing twenty minutes of no laptop or cell phone useage and you really wanted him to take a longer break from work, so you had an idea.

"Okay, just one more. I'll be right back," you told him, scurrying off to the bathroom to slip into a deep purple dress that just so happened to be the shortest one in the bunch by a mile. You weren't sure what Joel's assistant was thinking buying you something so short and tight. When you looked in the mirror, the fabric clung to your curves, leaving very little to the imagination with only two thin spaghetti straps to hold it up.

Obviously it was too inappropriate to wear on the yacht, but that didn't stop you from taking a deep, nervous breath and strolling back into your bedroom with what you hoped was an air of innocence.

He was leaning back on his elbows when you walked in, eyes drifting around your room and taking note of the items you kept on your nightstand, but when he saw what you were wearing he straightened right up.

"What do you think?" you asked as you twirled, but that time you made sure to take it slow.

"It's, uh..." his throat when dry when he saw how perfectly the dress hugged your ass and he had to clear his throat. "Nice," he finally managed to say. You fought back a smirk when you heard the strain in his voice.

"Yeah?" you asked, looking down at the dress. "I don't know, the material is a little rough."

Joel swallowed when you ran your hands slowly down the fabric, your palms traversing over your soft curves, making his fingers twitch.

As if you read his mind, you looked back up at him with a little pout and asked, "you wanna feel?"

Without hesitation, he spread his knees and beckoned you over with two fingers. You grinned and stepped forward, stopping when you stood between his legs, his mouth mere inches away from your stomach.

You could feel his hot breath through the dress and you had to suppress a tingle down your spine, but when he lifted his hands to cup the backs of your bare thighs, you couldn't hide your reaction that time. You made a little noise in the back of your throat when his fingers squeezed your legs and he looked up at you, eyes so dark and filled with lust that it took your breath away.

"This okay?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, your hands coming up to his shoulders so you could balance yourself. His fingers inched up your legs slowly, tentatively exploring without giving into his deepest desires. But fuck... if he wanted to, you would have let him.

He slid his hands up the sides of your thighs, his fingers catching a bit on the hem of your dress before reaching your hips. He caressed the material there with both hands, each of you still pretending as if the fabric of the dress was any concern.

"See what I mean?" you whispered. Slowly, he nodded, but his eyes remained pinned on your body, his gaze drinking in every inch of you, committing you to memory.

"Fuck, you look good," he murmured as if it pained him, letting the facade slip for a moment. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you began to play with the curls on the back of his head. He tilted his chin to look up at you, his lips parted and his cheeks a little flushed. Nothing else had happened since that afternoon in the ocean when he kissed you other than leaving you completely confused about the nature of your relationship. But in that moment, you couldn't care less. All you wanted was to feel his lips on yours again, to feel that spark of electricity over your skin, so you leaned down a fraction, your gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips, making your intention crystal clear.

Just as you were about to brush your lips against his, he pulled his head away and dropped his hands. Immediately, you straightened back up, embarrassment warming your face while you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

"We can't," was all he said, eyes drifting to look everywhere except at you. You nodded and quickly stepped back, shame coursing through your veins.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking a bit. You cleared your throat and repeated yourself then hurried out of the room to get changed.

Joel called your name, asking you to come back, but you were too ashamed. Instead, you slipped back into the bathroom and practically ripped the purple dress off out of anger, vowing to tuck it way back into the depths of your closet so you wouldn't have to look at it the entire rest of the trip.

By the following morning, you forced yourself to brush off the awkwardness with Joel from the day before. You had three more weeks to spend with him pretending to be his fianceé and you refused to let one uncomfortable situation dictate the rest of your time there. So you plastered on a big smile for him the next morning when you exited your room with your bags in each hand. You could tell he wasn't sure how to react. He tiptoed lightly around you, making sure he didn't even accidentally touch you as you both moved around the hotel room collecting everything you would need.

In the elevator ride down to the lobby, he tried to bring it up but you cut him off before he could even finish his sentence.

"Did you remember your seasick medication?"

He floundered for a moment, scanning your face for any sign of bitterness, but he found none. If you wanted to pretend it never happened, that was fine by him.

"Yeah," he finally said, and you nodded before turning to stare straight ahead at the closed elevator doors.

He didn't try to mention it again.

When you arrived at the dock with the sun just beginning to peek over the water, casting the ocean in a beautiful golden hue, you felt your mood instantly improve. You were in fucking paradise and nothing was going to ruin that for you.

The crew was loading up your belongings and you were chatting with Glenn and Mary about how excited you were when Glenn's phone pinged in his hand.

He tugged his glasses out of his shirt pocket so he could read the text and he let out a disappointed groan.

"Ian's got food poisoning, Harry says," he told the three of you, "they can't make it. That's a damn shame."

"Oh, that's terrible. I hope it's not too serious," Mary said sympathetically.

You heard the telltale sound of heels tapping on the wooden planks behind you and you turned around to see the rest of the couples, along with Trevor and Brooks, arriving. The crew hurried past to assist with their bags and for the first time all day, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist. Your muscles stiffened at first and he felt it. Guilt washed over him before he cleared his throat and lifted his other hand in greeting. Zoe spotted you and waved excitedly, her energy just as infectious in the early morning hours.

When you spotted Tammy a few yards behind Zoe, your smile faltered a bit. You still hadn't brought up what you learned to Joel. Did you even have a right to know about his past with Tammy? You thought you did given how it could blow your cover, but maybe it was just gossip.

Still, it got under your skin.

When Zoe greeted you with a hug, you caught the look of distaste Tammy shot to Lynne before turning her head to gaze out over the ocean. It couldn't just be in your head at this point. There was definitely something going on with these women that you were not privy to yet.

Joel took your hand and lead you aboard the yacht, once again feeling the discomfort at his touch radiating off you.

He handled everything all wrong, he knew that almost immediately. It was all his fault. He was weak that day in the ocean and couldn't stop himself from kissing you, and now you were confused and hurt, but there was a reason he didn't want a traditional sugar baby agreement. He needed to keep his eye on the prize and stay focused, not standing there pretending to admire the lavish sitting room Glenn was showing everyone while wondering if you were wearing the lingerie he purchased for you.

How the hell did you manage to weave your way into his psyche so fast?

After the tour of the yacht, which was luxurious and had three levels, you were shown your private rooms, all of which included your own bathroom and a window so you could admire the sea from bed.

Joel ticked his jaw to the side as he looked around while you began to unpack a few of your things.

"I can sleep on the floor," he said. Your back was to him but he saw your hands freeze inside your bag before you took a deep breath and continued to pull out your toiletries.

"Don't be ridiculous. We can manage two nights in the same bed."

Even though you couldn't see him, he nodded anyway. He should just say it. Say he's sorry. Sorry for all of it. Sorry for leading you on, sorry for hurting your feelings, sorry for staring at your legs and wondering what they would feel like wrapped around his head.

The guests slowly made their way into the indoor sitting area once they settled in. If there wasn't an entire wall made of glass so you could look out the back of the yacht, you would have thought you were in another mansion. The carpet was plush and white under your feet. When you saw how pristine it was, you almost wanted to ask if you should take your sandals off, but instead you took Joel's lead and left them on.

There were three long, white couches that formed a U shape around a large, cherry wood coffee table. Above your heads the ceiling was dotted and lined with soft lights, giving the whole room a very warm and inviting glow. Abstract art hung on the walls but there wasn't much space: any wall that bordered the sea was made of glass. And across from the couches, built up against an interior wall was a bar that appeared to be stocked with every liquor and mixer known to man.

The crew had poured glasses of champagne and mimosas and left them on the bar. They were standing at attention against the wall near the kitchen, waiting to jump into action if need be.

Joel picked up two mimosas and handed you one. You nearly declined when you noted the early hour but decided to take it anyway with a quiet thanks.

"Meant to tell you, I like your nails," Joel said, pointing to your fingers wrapped around your glass. You gave him a small smile before looking back down at your glittery, hot pink nails.

"Thanks," you said, wishing you felt as excited about them as you were yesterday.

Glenn clapped his hands loudly, commanding the attention of the room. He let everyone know breakfast would be served on the dining room on the deck in ten minutes and encouraged people to grab a drink before heading out.

The moment the glass doors were opened, your senses were overcome with fresh, sea-salt air and an occasional fine mist that was being vented above the partially enclosed area.

Everyone found a seat around the square table that was already set with beautiful white plates trimmed in gold with matching bowls and mugs. When the crew began to place trays of fruit, baked goods, meats, eggs, and yogurt on the table, you leaned into Joel and tapped his shoulder.

"Did you take your medicine?" you whispered.

He smiled and put his glass down so he could fish the bottle of pills from his pocket.

"Thank you. That woulda been ugly," he joked, making you giggle before reaching for the tray of fruit. His chest warmed at the sound, pleased to see you smiling again but damn near giddy that he was the one to make you laugh.

You weren't terribly hungry but you nibbled at some fruit and yogurt, knowing you should at least try to eat something if you were expected to keep up with the way the group drank.

After about an hour at the table where you nursed the same mimosa Joel had given you earlier, Glenn stood up and suggested the men go to the top floor for cigars and poker.

"Looks like it's just us, ladies," Mary said gleefully when all the men began to place their cloth napkins on the table and, collecting their own drinks, stood to follow Glenn up the stairs.

"You good?" Joel asked softly before he left. You quickly nodded and shooed him off. You were still feeling rather vulnerable from being shot down the day before but you could feel yourself coming around. Maybe some distance and distraction would help.

If only you knew what the day had in store.

By noon the sun was blazing, the heat seared your skin as you laid out on your lounge chair with the other women. You could smell the faint hint of cigar smoke and hear the laughter from the men up above, but you couldn't see them from where you were. Occasionally you would hear Joel's voice, his southern twang becoming deeper and louder the more he drank and you found yourself smiling.

You were at least three drinks deep and you felt completely relaxed. All your concerns drifted away, getting twisted in the breeze and floating over the water. You even managed to find Tammy somewhat tolerable as you listened to her tell the group about her teenage son and a girl he was dating.

Maybe Zoe was wrong. Maybe it was just a rumor. Tammy seemed to be happy and fulfilled. She had what appeared to be a very strong marriage with Scott and they had two boys. By all accounts, they appeared to be a very happy family.

"I think I'm gonna take a break in the shade," Zoe announced, fanning herself while she picked up her things.

"Okay, dear. There should be chilled bottles of water out but if not, just ask the bartender. He can get you whatever you need," Mary told her while she adjusted her enormous sun hat.

"I think I'll join you," you said, suddenly feeling like your mouth was coated in sand. You couldn't even remember drinking any water since the hotel that morning.

The three other women waved politely when you stood and followed Zoe back inside where the air conditioning embraced you like an old friend.

"Oh, god, that feels nice," you groaned. The room was empty except for one bartender who was taking stock of the liquor with a clipboard. He quickly set it aside when Zoe approached and asked for two waters. You picked a couch and set your things down next to you with a sigh, then thanked Zoe when she handed you a frosted glass bottle of water.

Both of you practically chugged your respective drinks in under a minute, then giggled when you realized how crazy you must have looked.

"We gotta pace ourselves," Zoe said with a grin and a shake of her head. "It's gonna be a long night. Zach said we aren't supposed to reach the island til six, and with the time it will take for the crew to set up and cook, we'll be eating dinner late."

"That means we'll be getting back here even later," you said, finishing her thought.

She nodded and tossed her hair over her shoulder, her eyes a little glassy and her cheeks a little pink, either from the sun or alcohol or both. But based on the way she couldn't stop laughing at the smallest thing, you suspected alcohol was the bigger reason. When she glanced at you and erupted into a fit of giggles again without having to say a word, you knew for sure she was a little past tipsy.

"What?" you laughed, her silly mood too contagious to resist.

"Nothing, nothing," she said with a wave, then seemed to think about it for a second before giving you a mischievous grin and leaned forward, cupping her hand around her mouth in an attempt to muffle her voice, but it didn't work.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

You shrugged and nodded. "Sure."

She giggled again, slapping her palm over her mouth and tucking her chin against her chest. You frowned and laughed at how ridiculous she was acting and wondered what on earth she was about to say.

She cupped her hand over her mouth again and whispered loudly, "how is Joel in bed?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at her question. Instantly, images and daydreams of what you thought Joel would be like in bed flashed across your mind. What the weight of his body would feel like pressed against yours, pushing you into the mattress. How his lips would feel wrapped around your nipple, his teeth teasing and pinching your skin. Would he kiss you slow and deep or passionate and needy? Would he groan your name when he buried his cock deep inside you? What was his favorite position?

All these things and more you had found yourself wondering more times than you could count since a few days ago in the ocean. He had completely taken over your mind to the point where you could hardly remember the girl you were when you first met, sitting in his office ready to storm out because of his abrupt and seemingly unpleasant nature.

You cleared your throat as you bought some time to scrounge up a lie.

"He's... good. Really good," you added. She nodded excitedly and rolled her wrist, urging you to continue. "He's attentive and... he doesn't rush." You could feel your cheeks heating up when you realized you were just telling her what you wished he was like, what you wished any of the men you had been with were like, only to always fall short in some way or another. "I'm not saying he can't be-" you glanced over your shoulder before lowering your voice, "rougher, because he can. There's been times I can hardly move after," you giggled and she gasped enthusiastically. "But he's always so sweet when we're done. He takes such good care of me, gets me whatever I need, tells me how beautiful I am." You swallowed, feeling only slightly pathetic at how you were turning yourself on with your own lies.

"How about Zach? What's he like?" you asked, changing the subject. Her face fell and she waved you off before taking another sip of water.

"Girl, c'mon, you know the answer to that."

Now it was your turn to gasp but the corners of your mouth twitched into a playful smile.

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes at you and sighed. "You've seen him. He's not hiding anything spectacular, I promise you that."

Zach was significantly older than Zoe. Their age difference especially showed when he stood after sitting for a while, groaning deeply and usually needing a hand to steady himself, or when his phone alarm went off at various times during the day, volume practically maxed out, reminding him to take some pill. But you never got the impression Zoe was unhappy until now.

"So why are you with him?" you asked. Of course, you had to assume his money had something to do with it, but her answer was still not what you expected.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked conspiratorially. You nodded and leaned forward. Zoe glanced around to make sure nobody else snuck into the massive sitting room before she whispered, "I'm a sugar baby."

"Y-you're... what?" you asked, your voice wavering. Fuck, you really wished you didn't have that last mojito. You were trying to keep your cool but your vision was swimming and your mind was buzzing.

"I think Tammy and Lynne suspect something. I think that's why they don't like me," she said, leaning back and gazing out to the ocean. "Nobody knows for sure, you can't say a word," she said, fear suddenly gripping her. "If Glenn found out, it would be over for Zach. Glenn holds way too much weight on family shit. He already isn't thrilled with our age difference," she sighed, gazing down at her freshly manicured nails. "But between you and me, I hope he doesn't get this land. He wouldn't be able to afford me anymore. Like, I want what's best for him and I want him to be happy, but this relationship is running its course, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," you breathed, "wow, I had no idea."

She shrugged and picked up her phone. "It's really not a bad gig, but it would be a hell of a lot better if the guys looked like Joel instead of Zach," she giggled.

You laughed softly and took another sip of your water, your mind reeling. The pressure to pull off this little stint was mounting. Joel wasn't the only one who noticed Glenn was a man with family values and tried to do the exact same thing, and now more than ever Joel's alleged affair with Tammy seemed like a huge loose end that could jeopardize your whole lie.

Your nerves got the best of you. Looking back on it, you should have realized that before having two more drinks with lunch, but Zoe's bombshell left you rattled and you got carried away.

Around four in the afternoon, the men returned from the upper deck with their skin pink and their shirts a little damp from sweat, but they were all smiles when they stepped out onto the deck to find their partners with the exception of Glenn's sons, who came by themselves.

Joel didn't notice at first how tipsy you were because you did your best to hide behind a pair of sunglasses and a large hat. He sat down on the lounge chair near yours, looking like he had a couple drinks himself but not nearly as many as you. He appeared relaxed and at ease, no doubt pleased by whatever progress he made with Glenn in the past few hours.

"How's everythin' goin' down here?" he asked, his eyes scanning around the crowd of people who were beginning to mingle.

"Good," you said, "I found out some very interesting information that-" you hiccupped and covered your mouth, "that you would find interesting."

He raised an eyebrow at you and smirked. "Interesting information that I would find interesting?"

"Mhmm," you said, nodding vigorously this time. "I will tell you later," you added, unnecessarily enunciating each word, "when we're alone," you whispered, not realizing your voice was still rather loud. It didn't matter anyway, nobody could overhear you when the guests were all breaking up into groups and talking over each other, but still.

He grinned and glanced around the deck, "Alright, then," he replied. He was about to say more when his eyes landed on someone over your shoulder and he stiffened. You were too slow on the uptake to see what Tammy was mouthing to him, but when he subtly nodded and stood up, you glanced behind you to see her walking discreetly into the yacht, leaving her clueless husband behind.

"I'll be right back," he said to you, and before you could say anything to stop him, he strolled off in her wake, leaving you all alone.

You could blame the alcohol and pretend you weren't jealous, but you were absolutely fuming. Zoe had to be right. How could he be so careless? Did he really think nobody would notice? How could he not tell you about his history with Tammy when it could all blow up in your faces?

Then something occurred to you that made your stomach roll and you had to take a few deep breaths to fight back the wave of nausea.

What if they were still having an affair?

Is that why he didn't want to take things further with you? We can't, he had said. Was he fucking another man's wife this entire time?

You never felt so stupid in your life. Of course, that's what it was. No wonder he put a clause in your contract stating that sex was not to be part of the agreement. How fucking pathetic of him to act so faithful to another man's wife.

What if he was fucking her right now?

You stood up too quickly and lost your balance, but fortunately an arm shot out to steady you.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up over your sunglasses to find Brooks, one of Glenn's sons, standing there with his hand wrapped around your arm looking concerned.

Quickly, you shook your head and forced a smile. "Yeah, the sun got to me, I think," you told him, then after another moment you realized his grip around your bicep hadn't loosened. Your eyes slowly drifted down to his hand and you gave your arm a little tug. Finally, he released you and you gave him a polite chuckle before fixing your cover up so you would feel less exposed in your bikini under his gaze.

"My dad says we should be reaching the island soon," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his board shorts. They were neon blue and hung low on his hips. Almost too low, as if he were trying to draw your attention to it.

"Yeah, it sounds great. Should be fun," you mumbled, glancing around the deck, still not finding Joel or Tammy.

"Ever been here before?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. You shook your head.

"To Fiji? No," you answered.

"I'm surprised. It's a pretty common vacation spot for people in Joel's circle," Brooks said. If you were a little less distracted you might have picked up on the fact that he said Joel's circle and not your circle, but you didn't. You were too fixated on your anger and you were fueled by one too many drinks.

"Yeah - would you excuse me? I need to use the restroom," you said, gathering your things in your arms.

"Sure thing," he said, taking a step back so you could brush past him. "See you at dinner."

You gave him what you hoped was a polite wave before storming towards the glass doors that led into the yacht, but just when you were a few feet away, the door swung open and Tammy stepped out. It could have been your paranoia, but you thought she had a little smirk on her face when she passed by you and after that, all you saw was red.

You breezed through the sitting room. The only other people around were two servers who were quietly packing up dishware to take to the beach, then Joel suddenly appeared in the entryway that led back to your room wearing a different shirt than before and you clenched your teeth.

"Hey, was just comin' to get you," he said, not yet picking up on your anger. "You should get ready for dinner, we'll be there soon."

You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms, uncaring that you could be overheard when you spat, "whatever you say, daddy," your tone clipped and dripping with disdain.

The muscles in his jaw twitched and his nostrils flared when he finally sensed your energy. He looked up, catching the eye of one of the crew members, who quickly averted his gaze and pretended not to have overheard what you said, then grabbed your arm.

You had the presence of mind not to fight him and cause a scene, but once he hauled you halfway down the hallway towards some privacy, you wrenched your arm out of his hold.

"The hell's the matter with you?" he seethed. "Are you fuckin' drunk?"

You rolled your shoulder, trying to fix your coverup that slipped down your arm while staring daggers at him.

"What's the matter with me?" you repeated, "what about you? What are you doing? Do you really think nobody sees what's going on?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion and made a face. "What are you talkin' 'bout?"

You took a menacing step forward and lowered your voice. "I'm talking about Tammy, Joel."

His eyes flashed with something you couldn't identify and you hardly had a chance to react before he grabbed your arm again and practically dragged you the rest of the way down the hall towards your room. Once you were safely inside, he slammed the door behind him and stalked over to you, making you stumble backwards in surprise.

"What the hell do you know 'bout that?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to push down the wave of envy that bubbled up. "So it is true."

"Answer my fuckin' question," he growled, his eyes steely and his breath coming in quick. You shrugged and tried your best not to look nervous while being the target of his wrath.

"That you're having an affair," you said simply.

He stared down at you for what felt like hours before he exhaled and stepped back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head before murmuring, "who told you?"

"Zoe," you sneered, taking one step backwards so you could rest your head against the wall. "Guess that means Zach knows, too."

"Fuck," he grumbled, then dragged his palms down his face in agony. "Fuck!" he said again, but shouted it that time and pounded his fist on top of a dresser.

You watched him nervously as he paced around the room, his anger beginning to sober you up a bit.

"You should have told me," you snapped. He swiveled around to look at you, his jaw so tight he could have cracked a tooth. "You could have ruined this entire thing but you're lucky I was quick on my feet and covered for you."

"You only need to know what I say you need to know," he said darkly, sending a shiver down your spine. "You were hired to do a job, so fuckin' do it."

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw the look in his eye.

"I'm trying, but you-"

"No," he said, cutting you off and closing the distance between you. "You were hired to look pretty and act like you're in love with me. That's fuckin' it. Everythin' else is none of your goddamn business."

You were just digging your own grave at that point so you figured there was no harm in tossing one more barb his way.

"Suppose it would have been too much to ask for you to at least tell me why you left sex out of our arrangement, but at least I know now it's not me. It's 'cause you're getting it somewhere else."

He inhaled sharply, his scowl cutting you in half.

"That's what this is 'bout?" he asked, stepping even closer. "You got your feelin's hurt yesterday?" His tone implied insincere pity and it sent a jolt of embarrassment through you but you remained quiet and held his gaze. He somehow had managed to cage you in against the wall, his arms bracing around your head as he leaned in closer. You could now smell a hint of toothpaste on his breath from when he came in earlier, without you, and you couldn't stop your next words from tumbling out.

"Did you bring her back here and fuck her in the bed I'm going to sleep in tonight?"

He smirked. He fucking smirked and you never in your life wanted to slap someone more.

"Jealous, baby?" he cooed. You shook your head but he just continued to give you that smug look. "Oh, I think you are. And you know what else?" He was taunting you now and you should have pushed him away but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. He leaned in so his lips brushed against your ear when he whispered, "I think you would let me fuck you right now, if I wanted to."

Tears sprung up in your eyes unexpectedly so you quickly slid them shut. You refused to let him have the satisfaction of your humiliation.

Finally, he pushed himself off the wall and gave you space so you could breathe. With your eyes still closed, he spoke again from the other side of the room.

"I was gone ten minutes. Gimme some credit. I ain't fuckin' anyone in ten minutes."

You heard him yank open the closet and you managed to crack open your eyelids with a pathetic sniffle, watching as he tossed a black dress onto the bed.

"Get ready. We'll be leavin' for the island soon." Then disappeared through the door.

It only took about five minutes before Joel calmed down when the guilt crept in again. Once more he handled another situation with you as poorly as possible and to top it off, he was fairly certain he brought you to tears when he left.

He was so fucking stupid. He should have just told you the truth. He should have told you he hadn't slept with Tammy in over a year and what they had was over, but he just had to keep pushing and pushing. How did he keep making mistake after mistake? You weren't wrong. He should have given you a heads up about Tammy, but he never thought anyone else knew. And instead of admitting it, he lashed out, taking his anger out on you when it wasn't even your fault to begin with. It was his, for being careless and stupid enough for others to find out.

When you emerged from your shared room looking refreshed and fucking stunning in the dress he had rudely thrown onto the bed, he almost apologized. He wanted to, but one look at you told him you were not at all ready to hear it, so he swallowed his words and gave you some space. Well, as much space as he could allow when you were surrounded by ten other people on a deserted beach at sunset eating dinner.

He resisted the urge to drape his arm around the back of your chair or brush his fingers against yours where they rested on the table. Please forgive me, I'm sorry, he kept thinking every time he glanced your way, but you avoided all eye contact and focused on the conversation around you.

During dinner, he noticed you had not one but two more drinks and hardly touched a thing on your plate. He wanted to say something, he wanted to encourage you to at least eat a little more, but he couldn't risk setting you off again, especially in front of everyone. So he bit his tongue and smiled politely when he needed to but mentally he was scrambling to come up with a way to make things up to you.

You stretched your neck with a sigh at one point, drawing his attention, his eyes lingering on the way your fingers trailed down your throat, then watched when you pressed two fingertips into a sore spot on the base of your neck.

How could you ever think he wouldn't want you? Of course, he wanted you. Anyone in their right mind would want you. The second he laid eyes on you it was all he could think about. How could you not see that?

Fortunately, the entire group seemed to be tired so nobody really noticed or cared that you and Joel were not very talkative. On the boat ride back, he instinctively reached for your hand when the boat swayed a little in the choppy waters, but you quickly pulled your arm out of reach and turned away.

It was past ten and the waves were rockier than earlier. He wanted to thank you again for reminding him to take his motion sickness pill but he refrained. Fuck, what he wouldn't give to go back to that part of the day and do everything over.

When the boat reached the yacht, you practically leapt off and jogged back inside, his heart sinking in his chest at your retreating form. He offered his good nights and slowly followed you with his head hung low and his hands shoved in his pockets, but when he finally reached your room he realized the real reason you had been in such a hurry.

The moment he opened the door he could hear you retching in the bathroom and his eyes widened. He closed the door behind him quickly and he rushed to the bathroom, pausing on the other side of the door, unsure what to do or say.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked.

"Does it sound like I'm alright?" you shot back before gagging once again. He winced.

"I'll get you some ginger ale and crackers," he said, spinning around the room until he found a mini refrigerator stocked with a few necessities. As expected, some seasick items were supplied, and he picked out a few things he thought might help. Setting them down on your end table, he turned around and scratched his chin.

While he waited for you to emerge, he got himself changed into more comfortable clothes and then went in search of your own pajamas to lay out for you when you were ready. In one of the drawers he found a few motion sickness bags and he left one out for you when an idea struck. Quickly, he rummaged through his pants from earlier and triumphantly pulled out a little plastic bottle of pills.

When was the last time he ever tried this hard for a woman?

Just as he was about to call out to you again, you swung open the door. Your face looked pale and your eyes were red but you remained defiant and refused to glance his way. You spotted the clothes he laid out for you, and then the items on your bedside, and he thought he saw a flicker of affection in your eyes before you blinked and it was gone.

"Here," he said, holding out the bottle for you. "Take one of these, it'll help."

You stared at it for a few moments as you weighed your options, then begrudgingly snatched it from his hand and tapped one out into your palm. Tossing the bottle onto his side of the bed, you swallowed the pill with the water he set out for you and picked up your pajamas before retreating back into the bathroom for some privacy.

By the time you had changed, Joel had already switched the television on low to some bright sitcom he thought you might like and had turned down the bed. He sat on his side of the mattress, shamefully staring down at his fingers laced together in his lap, then glanced up when he heard the door open and the light turn off.

"Thank you," you murmured before sliding into bed and pulling the covers up to your chin.

"You're welcome," he said softly. He watched you silently for a few minutes while the corners of your mouth twitched occasionally at something that was said on the television, then he cleared his throat, warning you he was about to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said, brows pinching together. You looked up at him in surprise but said nothing, so he continued. "I shoulda told you 'bout Tammy. You were right. And I shouldn't've said... that other stuff," he added weakly, looking down at his hands again. "I ain't any good at this," he continued, pursing his lips in thought. "I push people away, I say all the wrong shit, always have, and now I'm doin' it to you. And it's... it ain't right."

You scanned his face, your resolve crumbling when you saw the sincerity behind his eyes.

"It's okay," you finally said, your voice sounding so small from underneath the plush comforter.

He shook his head. "No, it ain't."

"No, but I forgive you, anyway."

He finally dragged his eyes up to meet yours and smiled. "Thank you, darlin'."

You sighed and readjusted a bit under the covers. "I'm sorry, too."

"Nothin' for you to be sorry for."

"I got too drunk and embarrassed you. It won't happen again."

He scoffed and gave you a look of disbelief. "Half the people on this boat got just as drunk as you. These people are borderline alcoholics," he said, making you giggle a little. He grinned, his heart soaring when he heard the sound. "None of 'em probably even remember we went to dinner."

You laughed a little louder at that and he joined in with a chuckle under his breath. He could feel his muscles relaxing, his nerves settling. He may have just salvaged things yet.

Joel leaned back and tucked his legs under the covers, watching the sitcom but not really absorbing anything. In the past, when he let his mind wander, it was not exactly the way he pictured being in bed with you, but it was still nice.

"Things are over with me 'n her, by the way," he said after a long, comfortable silence. Your body stiffened and you tipped your head in his direction.

"Why didn't you just tell me that to begin with?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Maybe I liked it when you got jealous."

Your cheeks flared with heat and you pulled the bedding up tighter around you.

"Asshole," you muttered. He laughed, making you smile.

"I deserved that."

He could tell when you began to drift off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw your head tilt towards your shoulder and your perfect lips part ever so slightly. You began to snore so softly, it almost seemed fake. No one looked and sounded that beautiful when they slept. Especially after being sick. But of course, you did. He should have known.

Joel reached over and flicked the lights off, washing the room in the television's glow, then slid deeper underneath the covers. Quietly, he turned the TV off and waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness before rolling his head to the side to look at you.

What the hell were you doing to him?

It had only been a week and he could already feel himself falling, already doing things out of character and feeling more at ease in general.

So what was one more thing?

Carefully, so as not to wake you, he inched forward and wrapped one arm around your middle, pausing to see if you would stir. When your breath remained steady and even, he got a little closer and pulled.

You took a deep breath and sighed, then rolled onto your side. He closed the remaining space between you and tucked you against his chest while snaking one arm under your pillow, the other still around your waist.

The last thing he remembered thinking was how your hair smelled like coconut and vanilla, a comforting scent he wanted to wrap himself in that was so soft and addicting, it put him right to sleep.

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