#inn between tag

[wasyago]

not drawing for others. not drawing for myself either. playing video games. okay? yay

[anghraine]

So, in the post about Elizabeth accepting Wickham's tale, I mentioned Elizabeth's remarkable degree of confidence in her judgment of others.

Elizabeth will listen to Charlotte outline her entire unsentimental philosophy of marriage and say, "You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself."

Or she'll listen to Bingley talking about how he's not planning on leaving Netherfield, but if he did, it would be very sudden because he makes all his decisions suddenly. They haven't known each other long at that point, but she responds, "That is exactly what I should have supposed of you" and adds, "I understand you perfectly."

Several weeks later, Charlotte has carried out her philosophy in her engagement to Mr Collins, and Bingley has abruptly left Netherfield.

Elizabeth:

But! Elizabeth and Darcy both say and think these kinds of overconfident things with zero self-consciousness.

Like, here's Darcy:

"But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule." "Such as vanity and pride." "Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind—pride will be always under good regulation."

Uh huh.

That I was desirous of believing her [Jane] indifferent is certain; but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction

Sure, Jan.

There are plenty more examples on both sides, but honestly, I find it deeply endearing as well as funny. There are ways in which they're right to be sure of themselves, and I respect them for those and for being rooted in their convictions there, but sometimes it's just ... aww, you're so very wrong and so sure you are right. <3

[404leafclover]

I'll follow you

[stone-stars]

So recently I had the pleasure of designing this pin and sticker for @innbetween's season 5 crowdfund! Which (as of posting this) is ALMOST OVER! Go support them!!!

[ID: Two similar circular designs of the quote "If you don't like what you've become, you may change again." The first only has the second half of the quote. The border is made of branches, with leaves sprouting from the branches on the left and empty branches on the right. One acorn hangs from one of the empty branches. Along the bottom of the border, plants sprout on the left while mushrooms grow on the right. The background is dark green. In the first design, the text and all the lineart is gold, and the leaves, plants, acorn, and mushrooms are colored in simple flat colors. In the second design, the text is gold, but the branches are brown, and there is more detail and texture in the various parts of the design.]

Since the crowdfund is wrapping up I wanted to share some of the early designs and some of my thoughts on the finished design, because honestly i loved a lot of them.

[ID: Rough sketches of a variety of designs, all featuring the "If you don't like what you've become, you may change again." Some feature only the second half of the quote ("You may change again"). The first is a sketch version of the design above. The second is a rounded rectangle, with the "I" on again being dotted with sprouting mushrooms. The third is a pair of acorns, one with the full quote and one with the half quote. The fourth is a circle with a tree with an acorn falling from it. The fifth is a mushroom. The sixth is an acorn on a branch, with the first half of the quote on a leaf and the second half on an acorn.]

You might've guessed it, but considering Tode, who says the quote in the show, is a druid, the designs are all heavily nature themed.

Fun little note! On all the designs, the leaves are oak leaves to tie into the acorn, and the mushrooms are based on Amanita muscaria, which is among the mushrooms most frequently called Toadstools (see what i did there).

In all honesty, when Hannah came to me with the quote, the first design that came into my head was the one that we ultimately settled on. We actually took another design (the other circular one with the oak tree) to a more refined stage, but the final design just clicked in the end.

And here's a little breakdown of that design! There's a lot of elements going on here, but in general I wanted the details to represent that no matter where you are in life, you still have the potential to change. Thus, the 'cycle', so to speak.

[ID: The final design, this time annotated. There's a circle of labels around the border, with arrows pointing to the next label. The cycle is "Sprouts: New growth" → "Oak leaves: Life, thriving" → "Bare branches: Death/dying" → "Acorn: Seed (potential/rebirth)" → "Mushrooms: Decomposers". At the bottom, there's a horizontal line that's split down the middle. To the left is "Life" and to the right is "Death"]

Here's the thing: I had so much fun with this design. It was fun to think through all the little things I could include, and it was so much fun to work on a design for a show and a sentiment that I love with my whole heart.

So once again, if you want a sticker or pin with this design, or if you just want to support an incredible podcast, go support Inn Between's crowdfund! And if you do get one of my designs, tag me in it when it gets to you, I'd love to see 👀!

[theaceace]

A while ago I decided that my ideal Good Omens/Sandman crossover involved Lucifer giving the key to Hell to Adam instead of Dream during Season of Mists, and what the fallout of that might be. I don't think I'll ever manage to finish it, but here's the theoretical first chapter

The first thing any of Them knew about it was the fact that there were no mugs in the sink. This was not at all a common occurrence; despite Wensleydale’s fastidiousness, Brian's refusal to drink from anything other than directly from the milk bottle, and Pepper’s insistence on ‘supporting local businesses near campus’1, there was usually a precarious mountain of tea-stained mugs stacked up in monument to Adam's unfortunate sleeping habits. To anyone else, under normal circumstances, this might have been considered a good – even miraculous – change.

All of Them had come to develop a very healthy suspicion of both normal circumstances and miraculous changes.

“That's weird, right?” Brian said, balancing on one leg to idly scratch at his calf with his other foot. “I mean, it's not just me that thinks that's weird?” Pepper, who had thrown open the cupboards to check that the mugs were still in the land of the living, and hadn't been smashed or otherwise disappeared in a fit of pique or supernatural intervention, made a little uh-hm noise.

“It's definitely weird,” she agreed, staring at the cupboard, which was precisely as full and disordered as it ought to be. “But that doesn't mean it's, y’know, weird-weird. It could be normally weird.”

“Did anyone hear Adam get in last night?” Wensleydale asked, which was a very sensible question that neither Pepper nor Brian had thought to ask.

“He was still out when I went to bed,” Brian said, glancing at Pepper.

“He said he was going to the library,” she said, frowning. Wensleydale nodded thoughtfully.

“It is open twenty-four seven,” he mused. “Adam might still be there. Maybe he fell asleep in one of the quiet study rooms?”

It wasn't impossible, they all silently agreed, glancing around at one another. Who among them hadn't lost track of time in the unchanging fluorescent glow, only to wake up some absurd number of hours later with a pen stuck to their cheek and an embarrassingly large puddle of drool forming on the table2?

“Okay, well, I'll just call him,” Pepper said decisively after a moment. 

“His phone’ll be on silent,” Brian pointed out.

“Still,” Wensleydale said. “If it's on vibrate he might notice it. And even if it's not, he'll see it when he looks at his phone next. Go ahead, Pepper.”

“Already on it,” she said, and indeed her thumbs were flying over her phone. She tapped the button to put it on speaker, and held the phone in the centre of the circle of Them with an odd reverence. Together, they watched Adam's name and number flashed across the screen as the phone began to ring, before it cut itself abruptly off.

“I’m sorry,” started the robotic message, “the number you have dialled cannot be reached at this time. Please try again later.” The message cut off with a cheerful beep. A moment later, Pepper’s phone, rather less cheerfully, burst into flames. She dropped it onto the tiled kitchen floor, where it went right on blazing.

All three of the remaining Them stared at it in horror.

“Right,” said Pepper faintly.

“I think that might be weird-weird,” Brian agreed, a shade more faintly. Wensleydale, being the only one of Them who was not only concerned that Pepper’s phone was on fire, but also that her phone was on fire, started swatting at it ineffectually with a tea towel. 

“OK,” Pepper said, gathering herself, “Brian, give me your phone.”

“What? Hang on, I only got this last month! You can't go around seeing if that'll set other people's phones on fire just because yours spontaneously combusted, Pep, that's not fair.” Pepper, being somewhat more nimble, and considerably less indignant than Brian, used this opportunity to lean over and pluck his phone from the depths of his hoodie pocket. “Hey!”

“Here's what we're going to do,” Pepper said decisively.  In Adam's absence,  one of Them had to be the one making the decisions, and that one might as well be her. “You two are going to go to the library and check there, just in case. Maybe this is… coincidental weird-weirdness. Call me when you get there, let me know if you find anything.”

“And what about you? What are you going to do?” Wensleydale asked, giving up the tea towel as a bad job, and accepting the fact that the phone seemed to be burning itself out quite nicely on its own.

“I'm going to ask around, and email in sick for all of us,” Pepper said. “Maybe one of Adam's other friends saw something, or heard something, or… y’know,  something. Wens, call Mr. Young – he likes you the best, he'll be happy to speak to you, but don't let on just yet what's happening.”

“What is happening?” Brian asked, a little helplessly. Rather than admitting she had no more idea than any of the rest of Them, Pepper just shook her head darkly.

“Nothing good,” she muttered. “OK. Alright. Meet back here at, say, half eleven? If we haven't found anything before then, I mean.” Brian and Wensleydale both nodded, looking a little peaky, and glanced at each other. Wensleydale swallowed, and piped up with the question that was troubling them both. 

“And what do we do then, if we haven't found anything?” 

“Then,” Pepper said, with all the grim determination of a General sending her troops to their certain deaths, “we call the Witch.”

The first thing Anathema knew about it was that she picked up a stack of old magazines to throw away, only for a sheet of old parchment to flutter lazily out and come to rest on her shoes. She wasn't sure where old Agnes had ended up after her explosive exit from this mortal coil, so she glared first at the ceiling and then at the floor for good measure.

“I burnt that book for a reason,” she sternly told the page. The page, naturally, did not reply.

Anathema stared at it for a few long seconds, dithering. She wasn't a person predisposed to dithering, but had found in the last couple of years that it was nice to indulge oneself in a change of pace, from time to time. Still, having no natural talent for it, and being far more inclined to action anyway, she only allowed this for a brief time, before snatching up the page and casting a curious eye over it.

“Oh,” she said, swiftly followed by, “hm.” 

Then, “right.” 

A few seconds later, “what?” 

And, with hardly a pause for breath, “I see.”

Before finally, “oh. Oh dear.”

In the next room, from its perch on the coffee table, her phone started to ring.

(Halfway across the country, the first thing Constantine knew about it was that the demon she was attempting to banish back to the bowels of Hell laughed in her face. It stopped laughing with gratifying speed at the first splash of holy water, but it was enough to set her thinking.

Thinking, however, could wait until she'd downed roughly half her weight of Robbie's Secret Whisky Stash, and fallen face-first onto her sofa for the next sixty hours or so. 

Which was exactly what she did.)

The first thing Aziraphale knew about it – though he wouldn't realise such for a few days yet – was the abrupt interruption of his quarterly book club3.

He'd been enjoying a rather excellent cup of lapsang souchong in companionable silence, a collection of poems that Oscar had enthused about but never committed to paper propped open in front of him, when the summons arrived.

“Lucienne. I must speak with you. Meet me in the throne room as soon as is convenient.” A momentary pause. “Please.”

On the other side of the room, primly seated on a velvet sofa, Lucienne, librarian of the Dreaming, quite deliberately did not sigh. She hardly had to – her silence spoke volumes. Marking her page with a delicate silver bookmark, she set the book to one side and stood, brushing at her immaculate waistcoat.

“I am so sorry,” she said, unsmiling but warm around the eyes. “I hate to cut this short, but –”

“Not at all, not at all,” Aziraphale replied, waving a hand and offering her as understanding a smile as he could muster4. He did, after all, have some notion of what it was like to work for an entity vastly more powerful than oneself, towards a cause that one broadly believed in but did occasionally cut into one's leisure time. “I gather it must be something frightfully important – you know, I'm not sure I've ever heard Lord Morpheus make such a polite request?”

That did bring a smile to his companion's face, small and conspiratorial, though still unflinchingly professional.

“As a matter of fact, since our Lord's return and his latest… trials, he has been making a considerable effort to show his appreciation to myself and the other residents of the Dreaming. Please don't misunderstand me, Lord Morpheus has always valued our work, but –”

Aziraphale nodded as she trailed off.

“He has, perhaps, come to realise that expressing his appreciation may be beneficial to both the work and morale,” he suggested. He didn't remember such tactics ever being successfully applied in Heaven, but they had worked a treat on dear young Warlock. It had been difficult on the poor boy, of course, to have positive reinforcement applied by two very different entities in completely opposing directions, but he had appeared to cope well enough with the confusion. Children were remarkably resilient that way.

“Exactly,” Lucienne agreed, apparently relieved that he understood. “You'll have to excuse me – of course, you're free to remain in the library as long as you like, and if there's anything else you need, just let the library know and one of the palace staff should be sent along to assist.” 

So what could Aziraphale do but hum and thank her, before finishing his cup of tea and taking his leave of the Dreaming, after which he failed to give the incident a single thought more for several days?

Well. There were, perhaps, many things he could have done – but, crucially, he did none of them, and so such hypotheticals really don't matter very much in the grand scheme of things, do they?

And the first thing Crowley knew about it was the shrill ring of Aziraphale’s landline jolting him out of a very pleasant nap.

“Whozzit?” He muttered from his place face-down on the sofa. “‘m gonna kill’m.”

“Oh, you'll do no such thing,” Aziraphale scolded as he bustled over to the phone. “It's barely midday, it's a perfectly reasonable time to call. Hello? A Z Fell and Co rare books, I'm afraid we're very much closed for the rest of – oh! Well hello dear girl! How lovely to hear from you – you know, I was just saying to Crowley the other day, we –”

“Who is it?” Crowley repeated, this time managing to include enough syllables to make it three clear and distinct words. Not that it seemed to matter to Aziraphale, who made a complicated but ultimately meaningless hand gesture towards him but otherwise didn't answer. 

“Yes of course I'm free to talk; anytime you need Anathema, you know that.” Which did at least answer Crowley's question. He blew out a noisy sigh and closed his eyes again. Might as well try to get a few more hours’ kip. Those two could natter like fishwives when they got into the swing of it.

“Adam? No, not since he popped ‘round last month during his reading week for a visit. Why do you –”

Aziraphale paused, and the silence stretched long enough that Crowley peeled his eyes back open. The angel had gone very, very pale, and the hand that gripped the phone was white-knuckled. Crowley frowned and pushed himself upright.

“You're quite sure?” Aziraphale asked faintly. Crowley's brows leapt up towards his hairline. “No, we haven't heard anything. Do his parents –?”

Slow and sinuous, Crowley unfurled himself from the sofa and inched towards Aziraphale, who appeared on the verge of shaking. It was, he had to admit, a little alarming to see. A chair that hadn't been behind the angel until a few moments ago5 let out a faint wumpf as he pushed Aziraphale down to sit on it. This close, he could hear the tinny echo of Anathema’s voice, but couldn't quite make out the individual words.

“We certainly haven't felt anything,” Aziraphale said. His free hand had curled around the arm of the chair – Crowley unpeeled his fingers and offered up his own hand as a sacrifice in place of the upholstery. “Neither of us get any word from, ah, the head offices anymore, as it were, but I haven't heard anything through any other channels, not that many of them keep in close touch these days. I don't suppose Agnes –?”

He paused to listen to her agitated response, lips pressed together. Crowley rubbed his thumb against the back of his knuckles, in the vain hope he might relax his grip a little. The little bones in his hand were in imminent danger of collision.

“Yes, yes, tell me now – I'll remember,” Aziraphale said with all the solemnity of a true vow. The tinny little echo of Anathema's voice came again, this time in a distinct rhythm that Crowley usually associated with poetry or prayer. Aziraphale nodded along, his brow furrowing the longer she went on, his own mouth shaping the occasional word as she went. 

Crowley, meanwhile, was starting to get a headache.

“No, of course, of course, I'll let you know the moment I think of something,” Aziraphale said, which perhaps wasn't the hastiest promise he'd ever made to the witch, but did still make Crowley's skin itch vaguely. “Yes – he's right here, would you like to speak to him?”

Ignoring Crowley's increasingly frantic head shaking, Aziraphale handed the phone over. Crowley grimaced, weighed up the pros and cons of just hanging up (pros: it would be rude, which as a demon was something he was rather fond of being. Cons: it would be rude, which would upset Aziraphale, who was already looking remarkably distressed. Also, he may not get to find out what was going on), before accepting both the inevitable and the phone.

“Yeah?” He said, trying his best to sound like he didn't give a single damn about whatever Anathema had to say. Anathema, who was very used to this by now, and swiftly climbing the ranks of living people well-equipped to both see through and handle Anthony J Crowley, did not bother mincing her words.

“Adam's missing. Last seen yesterday evening, as best we can tell. His friends are looking for him the human way and running interference with the university and his parents, in case it's something… esoteric. Also, I have a new prophecy from Agnes that I think is about him, but I haven't quite managed to figure it out just yet. I thought you might know something.”

Crowley's blood ran cold. Well. Colder.

Most of Crowley's knowledge about what to do to find a missing human was both theoretical and gleaned from procedural police dramas, and he suspected that the angel's wasn't much better, except that he could likely replace procedural police dramas with Agatha Christie first editions. They hadn't even managed to find the right antichrist until the day of the apocalypse, and he hadn't technically been missing.

“He's definitely disappeared?” He tried, perhaps a little desperately. “He hasn't, er, just wandered off for a bit and forgot to text?” That was a thing, wasn't it? You had to wait for a day or two before you could call someone missing, if they were an adult doing their own thing. He was fairly sure that was a thing.

“Pepper says that he didn't go back to their accommodation last night, and all of his notes and books were still at the library. She thinks he must have his bag and his phone on him, but no-one’s been able to get through to him.” Anathema sounded harried, and the sharpness of her tone set something bristling in Crowley, before he forced himself calm again. Aziraphale was hurriedly scrawling something on a scrap of paper, so fast that the ink flew and dotted his hands and sleeves.

“So do they think he was – what, grabbed?” Crowley tried to imagine the sort of thing that would be capable of grabbing Adam if he didn't want to be grabbed, and succeeded only in feeling vaguely ill.

“No, but they think he must have left in a hurry and none of them know why, or why he wouldn't have contacted somebody.” The somebody like you went unsaid but very clearly implied. 

“He didn't leave the stove on, I'm guessing?” Crowley asked hopelessly. Anathema did him the grace of ignoring that.

The problem, Crowley decided, was that there were simply too many places that Adam could have buggered off to to even begin narrowing the list down. He wouldn't know where to start. He wouldn't know how to start. There were very few places in the universe that Adam couldn't get into, if he put his mind to it. Heaven, he supposed, but that seemed very unlikely given that Adam's opinion of Heaven as a concept was ambivalent at best, and outright scornful at worst (Crowley was oddly proud of that, considering he'd had almost nothing to do with it).

“Fine. Well, did they find anything with his stuff at the library? A lingering smell of sulphur, a stray feather from, oh as a random example, an angel's wing? A helpful note detailing exactly where he was going and how long he might be gone for? A circle of runes burnt into the nearest flat surface large enough to walk through?”

“Oh yes, how silly of me, I completely forgot to mention the ransom note of newspaper clippings,” Anathema replied, so lightly that it managed to loop back around to scathing. “No, of course there wasn't anything there.”

Crowley dragged in a breath, and let it out so gustily that he almost missed the little um that came down the line.

“What?”

“Um. Well, actually.  Now that you mention it. Pepper did say that when she tried to call him, her phone sort of. Caught fire?”

Crowley blinked, which was something he didn't do often, and always felt a little bit weird about.

“It what?”

“Caught fire.”

“S’what I hoped you hadn't said.”

“Mhm. Shit?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and his laugh was so far from humour that he suspected it wouldn't even be visible as a little dot on the horizon. “Couldn't have put it better myself.”

The first thing Crowley did after hanging up was try to phone Adam himself. It was lucky that angels, and those originally of angel-stock, had a good head for remembering numbers,  though in this case it was made simpler by the fact that Adam had thought it was funny that every mobile number he'd had since he'd been gifted his first phone aged thirteen had ended with 666. He dialled quickly, and held his unnecessary breath as the phone began to ring. He glared down at the ancient landline, silently daring it to try anything so silly as bursting into flames. Whether because it feared a fate worse than fiery death, or just because it had no more reason to than at any other time it had been used, the phone did nothing more than ring. It then rang several more times, before a detachedly cheerful voice implored him to leave a voicemail.

Was that a good sign? Crowley honestly wasn't sure at this point. He made a note of it anyway, just in case.

Aziraphale groaned from his spot at his desk, and dropped his head into his hands.

“What?” Crowley asked. “What did Agnes have to say about all this?”

Aziraphale groaned again.

“Well that's half the problem,” he said. “Without any context it's almost impossible to be sure. Trying to decipher a prophecy before it's come to pass is like trying to derive meaning from –”

“From one particular needle in a stack full of other, identical and maybe just as important needles?”

“Well. Yes, now that you mention it,” Aziraphale turned to face him, wide eyed. “I just don't understand! There's been nothing for years, no movement from either side, no interest in Adam whatsoever. What could have possibly changed, and without either of us noticing?”

“I mean, are we sure it was Heaven or Hell? There's lots of other things out there that might be interested in the antichrist.” Not many that would be capable of hiding themselves from both an angel and a demon, and vanishingly few that would also be capable of persuading Adam to go with them. Unless he wanted to, of course, but Crowley was trying not to think about that too much. Would it be the better outcome for everyone involved? Possibly, but he wasn't willing to bet on it. Certainly not when he would be betting Adam's life, or mind, or general wellbeing6.

“But surely we still would have heard something. I know neither of us keep up with the latest news bulletins, but I hardly think any plans of this sort of scale would be quiet.”

It was a fair point. They each had their contacts among the various communities on this and a few other planes of existence. Not that either of them got out much these days, but it didn't take too much effort to send a letter here, or listen to an ominous whisper there. But, as Aziraphale had quite rightly pointed out, there had been nothing.

“Right, and I'm guessing you haven't accidentally been sent any golden post-its?”

Aziraphale shot him a look so withering that Crowley suspected it may have been used as a weapon of righteous smiting a time or two, back in the day.

“Of course not! I don't hear from Heaven any more than you do from Hell. Less, I should imagine. It's not as though my lot ever thought to take out advertising space in the middle of your new radio plays with the fancy name, or start keeping in touch via electronic mail.”

Resisting the urge to point out that they’re podcasts angel, not radio plays, we've been over this and I know you remember what they're called, I know you're doing this to me on purpose, because Aziraphale had, once again, made a very good point. Even if he wasn't aware of it.

"Huh. Yeah. Hang on – maybe Hell sent something out. Lemme check."

Crowley wove his way around the piles of books in a fashion that probably would have looked hurried on anyone else, but on him looked mostly like the room had rearranged itself to minimise the number of steps required to get to the door of Aziraphale's office.

"Let you check? Check what, Crowley, I didn't think you were, ah – what's the phrase? Connected to Hell's net-works anymore." 

Perhaps one day Aziraphale would manage to drag himself into something resembling the twenty-first century, Crowley mused glumly. If the off-white plastic box humbly masquerading as a computer on his other desk were any indication, it wouldn't be before the world once again tried to off itself. He tapped the enter key impatiently a few times until the screen lit up, something that came as a terrible shock to the computer – which was, until that very moment, both switched off and unplugged. Crowley, who had never plugged in a single appliance in his life and didn't intend to start now, hadn't bothered to check. 

Brilliant things, computers – except for when they weren't.

Despite its age, the computer in question had a healthy appetite for its continued existence, and so at Crowley's impatient prompting, navigated itself to Gmail without any of the ponderous delays it usually employed. Aziraphale was particularly forgiving of ponderous delays, as they provided an ample excuse to refill his mug of tea. Somehow, it suspected the irate demon wiggling the mouse wouldn't be quite as keen on a page that loaded just slowly enough to pop the kettle on.

The thing about Hell was that they wanted to give the impression that they were always aware of your every move, no matter what plane of existence you happened to be residing in at the time. It wasn’t true, of course – Crowley knew that better than almost anyone – but that didn't stop them putting in a reasonable amount of effort to maintain the illusion. Mostly it was just a bit of a hassle, but at times it could come in handy. 

Like now, for instance. Hell wanted its agents on Earth to feel just as surveilled as the poor buggers still Down There, so as well as just butting into whatever you happened to be watching or listening to anytime they wanted your attention, they'd also made sure you could access every one of your emails, memos, and warnings from any service provider anywhere in any world. A bit unnerving, perhaps, but useful for any demon willing to get a bit creative7.

It was also a relatively impressive feat, given that Hell itself had only just managed to install dial-up a couple of years immediately prior to the world not-ending. Crowley'd only stuck his head in once or twice in that time, but the noise had been God… had been Satan…

It had been Someone-awful.

"Mm, I'm not, technically," Crowley replied, stabbing at the keyboard.

There was no technically about it. Crowley had been removed from Hell's mailing list, so to speak. His account had been wiped out, and it was mostly luck, a few miracles here and there, and currying favour with the then-pre-teen antichrist8 that had kept him from being wiped out right alongside it. 

It was, then, fortunate that every demon in Hell had been assigned a username with the same standard formula (rank, hyphen, circle of Hell, hyphen, name) as well as the same password (HailSatan123!, no hyphens). It was also quite fortunate that Crowley was the only one capable of figuring out how to change the password9. He'd been keeping tabs on Hastur's account since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't; partly to stay in the loop, and partly to laugh at the ongoing chain between Hastur and Dagon as they argued over who would get to claim the soul of, as they put it, 'that Nigerian prince feller'.

The computer, having a better sense of self-preservation than most of the human race, accepted both username and password with remarkable speed, and only one single pop-up box that politely enquired if the user might like to save their password for their own convenience and improved experience in the future? At Crowley's pointed handwave, the box promptly vanished, and he was – as the hackers said – in.

It was tempting, as it always was, to take the time to sift through the near-countless unread emails to find something fun. The latest update in the exchange with Dagon (the subject line of which now had too many Re:s to be readable, but no doubt chronicled precisely how close they each were to securing the soul of the next in line to the Nigerian throne for their lord and master) was right there, bracketed by countless – pointless – memos from low-level imps, and a call for any last-minute rota swaps from Andromalius. Not that any swap requests would be entertained, much less honoured. Hard to swap shifts when you were always working, and utterly unable to escape.

"Well?" Aziraphale asked, having abandoned his heavenly patience at the door. Even the computer shuddered a little. Crowley, not to be outdone by a piece of hardware and also rather more certain of his place in Aziraphale's good graces, decidedly did not.

“Hold your bloody horses,” Crolwey muttered. “It's not like the idiot has any sort of organisational system. Or any sort of system at all, come to think of it.” He scrolled a little more, scanning in a way that he would never, under any circumstance, admit to being frantic. Aziraphale rested a hand soothingly on his shoulder, which he thought was a little rich, given the angel's reaction to Anathema's call.

In fact, his not-frantic scrolling was fast enough that at first, he glanced right past the innocuous little email that had been sent out to everyone from an email address that was, even to Crowley, incomprehensible, and whose subject line simply read: get out. He might have written it off as chain mail, of the sort that hadn't been seen anywhere except Hell for approximately ten years, and promised a grisly fate if one didn't send it on to at least twenty of one's dearest friends and family, were it not for the abiding sense of dread that filled him when he hovered the cursor over it10.

By definition, as a demon, Crowley wasn't meant to be put off by abiding senses of dread. In fact, he was meant to be not only drawn to senses of abiding dread, but also frequently responsible for them. 

Despite this, Crowley found himself hesitating long enough that Aziraphale noticed.

“Do you think that's–?” He asked, trailing off as Crowley swallowed hard and opened the email. They both read in silence11, the dawning horror of its contents creeping up on them rather like a spider in the shower – that was to say, a moment of peace before they truly registered just what they'd seen, followed by an immediate rejection of any reality where this could be allowed to happen, particularly while one was already in so vulnerable a state as nudity, or having just received word that the antichrist was, once again, missing.

“That,” Aziraphale started, before taking a shaky breath and trying again. “That does at least explain what Agnes was on about with that bit about the Tempest.” He cleared his throat, which did absolutely nothing to help the situation, and continued, “I should probably phone Anathema back. Be a dear, and pop the kettle on, won't you? I think I could do with a strong cup of tea.”

Crowley nodded distantly, and made no move to get up. In the kitchenette at the back of the shop, the kettle obediently clicked itself on, having assumed (rightly) that Crowley wasn't quite up to the trip just yet. Instead, he just stared at the screen through blurry eyes and tried to pretend this was all just a bad dream. 

Hell is empty, he thought morosely,  reading over the email that was, for all intents and purposes, an eviction notice, and all the devils are here.

Meanwhile, some six miles away as the raven flies12, a young man slouched his way into a pleasant London pub just in time to miss the lunch rush.

1 Here, the reader may wish to substitute ‘supporting local businesses’ with ‘attempting to flirt with a local barista over poorly-roasted coffee and soggy pastries’

2 Adam was the only one among Them that had never succumbed to the tempting lure of the library's sleepy clutches, a point all of Them were working hard to ignore

3 Though to call it a book club was, perhaps, a generous exaggeration. For the most part it was two like-minded individuals enjoying a cup of tea in mutual, silent appreciation. The occasional discussions regarding fine literature and unusual misprints were a pleasant addition rather than a requirement 

4 a more understanding smile had never before, nor since, been mustered

5 the chair in question was a rather hideous paisley, which left an unpleasant taste in Crowley's mouth but would serve to cheer the angel when he was again in a fit state to notice such things

6 And, by extension, lives, minds, and wellbeing of the rest of Creation

7 Crowley, exclusively 

8 A simple enough endeavour for Crowley, as there is very little difference between a pre-teen antichrist and a pre-teen human, and functionally no difference at all between a pre-teen human and a demon

9 As well as the only one that had managed to switch on the spam filter

10 Not to be confused with the generally abiding sense of dread felt while one was generally checking one's emails

11 Aziraphale just a touch faster than Crowley,  though the difference was so slight as to be effectively negligible 

12 Which is not quite as direct as the crow flies, particularly if the raven in question is new to the job and easily distracted (not to mention still unpracticed at flying against the wind) but still a sight more direct than a magpie making the same trip

[friarvelune]

Transfiguration's gonna come for me at last / and I will burn hotter than the sun.

(Image description: a colored pencil and digital edits drawing of Friar Velune, who in this art appears to be a young adult with asymmetrical short blond hair, short brown facial hair, and who is wearing black robes. Their hair, skin, and clothes are covered in patches of dirt. Their eyes are glowing and yellow and they look up, terrified, black makeup running down their face in tear tracks, as an invisible being says the words written in the sky above them, "You will never be blind again" in all caps. They seem to be covering one eye, but it glows through their hand. Bright rays of sunlight streak across the drawing, though the background is dark, indicating night. End of image description.)

[wall-e-gorl]

"What are the odds of us meeting Sterling's dad?" IT STARTED IN A BONUS EPISODE??? A BONUS EPISODE??

[bumblingbabooshka]

Movik-Taar: Future proprietor of a very popular natural hot spring spa & inn on Vulcan. Husband of T’Meni-bu, Sek’s daughter. He’s self-conscious about his hair loss.

Movik is a braggart, a bit of a lia- exaggerator and a gigantic coward and T’Meni-bu knows that yet earnestly thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread. I’d say she’s that ‘If I had a lame boyfriend-’ post but she genuinely doesn’t think he’s lame and would be defensive if you said he was. Sek thinks Movik is odious but tries to take solace in the fact that T’Meni finds him extremely pleasant. T’Meni and Movik were married before either of their pon farrs because T’Meni wanted to and both families saw no reason to delay if that was her wish. Movik wore a toupee to the wedding and was hesitant to take it off in front of her but when he did she just seemed weirdly charmed.  Movik has a Vulcan parental unit (mother, father) who sired him and another father who is Bolian. He has a Bolian younger sister who’s around elementary school aged.  He has a tendency to exaggerate his accomplishments but often quickly backpedals into the truth. He isn’t a malicious person and is actually a bit of a push over. Said he was going into Starfleet most of his life but when he was the age to apply he suddenly said he was going to take over his family’s inn instead.  T’Meni is very bad at doing actual work in the inn but very good at guest relations and trends which makes the inn even more popular. Movik showers her with attention and gifts so she’s perfectly content. Movik thinks she’s an extremely capable, intelligent person (an excellent match!!) and the two are absolutely insufferable together the way close couples are <3 

[hopefulqueer]

writing patterns tag game

rules: list the first line of your last ten posted fics and see if there's a pattern :)

The crystalline expansions on Ashton’s body shattered away from him as they made it to the surface, and he fell. He fell. He wasn’t moving. (On Being Tired)

“Gather ‘round, folks, that’s right, come on over to hear a tale that will have you right at the edge of your seats!” “Ma’am, you can’t be standing on the table, that’s unsanitary,” called the bored-sounding bartender. (The Tower (Reversed))

A sort of heavy emptiness hung in the air around Velune's friends these past few days. (The (Lack of) Answers)

They had been a bit too cocky. (Fire with Fire)

Sitting cross-legged up to her shoulders in a warm bath, Fina felt a bit like a frozen slab of meat tossed into hot water to thaw. (Quiet (Come Another Time))

Ashton had slept in a lot of strange places recently. Skyships and caves and tiny fucking-nowhere towns and inside the portable hole. They were good at passing the fuck out and being dead to the world for as many hours as they could get away with. They were especially good at it when they were drunk. (On Being Home)

Meltyre loved magic, he really did. It's just that sometimes it was hard to love it fully during a fight with another spellcaster. (The Mindfire)

The sky is red, the moon is fucked up, the leylines have shifted, and half of Milo’s kitchen appliances have spontaneously disenchanted themselves. In short, things are fucking weird. (A Hundred Gold, Don't Fuck It Up)

The sun was setting as Elam Genar knelt in her garden and carefully covered some seeds in rich soil. (Timing)

It hadn’t escaped Ashton that where they were standing now was the same continent as where he had likely been born, where the ruins of the Hishari village might still be somewhere under piles of broken stone rubble. What had also crossed their mind was the fact that whatever the fuck had happened yesterday hadn’t been the first time they had been unexpectedly teleported across the face of the fucking planet. Like those poor unlucky bastards who got struck by lightning twice–what were the fucking odds? (On Being Enough)

Some patterns:

all but one are in past tense, because apparently I only write in present tense when it's the POV of one Milo Krook

60% are either POV or entirely abt nonbinary characters. slay.

I thought I started w/dialogue more often than this! I guess I used to, and maybe my style has shifted away from it in recent years

I guess I like to start by establishing the mindset of the POV character and/or a sensory or physical experience they're having!

I was tagged by @augustheart (thank you!!!!!) and I'm gonna send the tag off to @just-a-funny-little-brain and @ninja-kitty-more-like-no and anyone else who wants to do it! (and if u guys dont recognize this url hiiiii it's Marto fldsjkhfkj idk if u follow my main)

[podcast-hottie-of-the-week]

Hi-ho dear listeners!

Just a reminder that we'll be pulling the contestants for our first Hottie of the Week contest on Sunday, March 5! If you want your favorite characters in the running, please hit us up on our submit form. 🌶 ❤️🌶

[segmentedsuperstud]

[🚀 Zitz] "We're not here to try and take your suit. We're just looking for new batteries to power our ship and then we're on our way again." [⭐ Rash] "Dude, that suit is RAD, though. Where did you get it?"

Jim didn't know much, but he did know quite a bit about his super suit. The biomechanical marvel was powered by a very special battery: A mysterious, one-of-a-kind particle of energy, both indestructible and irreplaceable. And Princess What's-Her-Name herself had told Jim very plainly to never let that suit or that battery fall into the wrong hands.

Sure, these guys said they were only looking to power their ship, but how could Jim be sure? How did they know he had a battery? Where could Jim get cool sunglasses like that? ...could he even wear sunglasses?

Besides... didn't frogs eat worms?

Too many questions. Jim's head was starting to hurt.

"Doesn't matter where I got it, its mine!" Jim spat back defensively, "If you're lookin' for batteries, you're barkin' up the wrong tree!"

[thebellearchives]

𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

~ inumaki toge // fushiguro megumi ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : at night, you and your sorcerer friend take shelter in an inn room to take care of each other’s wounds

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, making out, a bit suggestive maybe ?? (i’m still tagging it as fluff)

- gumi’s part: 'it’s complicated' friends to lovers, he tends to your wounds

- toge’s part : toge’s aware of your crush on him, you feel cursed energy through his kisses, onigiri ingredients in japanese, he uses harmless words at the very end, also uses cursed speech on you in the last sentence lol, you tend to his wounds

‧₊˚ a / n : wasn’t intending on posting this but anyways, this shots turned out kinda cute so, would’ve been sad to keep them to myself, also putting them together because both follow the same scenario and have many similarities

the reader feeling toge’s cursed speech was largely inspired by this 🫶🏻

also don’t question the fact that they’re in an inn room instead of the infirmary or smth okay just go with the flow bye 😭

• 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

You and Megumi somehow managed to check in the room without much questioning. Entering an inn late at night looking like you just got beat up was definitely something that would raise the front desk lady’s eyebrows, but you figured you had just gotten lucky.

You closed your eyes and sighed, Megumi’s footsteps came closer. You were sitting in the kitchen counter, knees apart from each other so Megumi could stand in between and attend to your wounds just like you had done before with his. His fingers lifted your chin up so he could see better under the room’s dim light. He pressed an alcohol drenched cotton ball lightly over your left eyebrow, making you jolt.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry” he mumbled “I’m almost done.”

Your eyelids opened slowly, finding him close to you, his dark eyes fixed on your wound. You studied his face in the meantime, long lashes contrasting with his pale clear skin, yet blending with his black irises.

“Can’t believe after all this time of being friends we just had our first mission together.”

“I’m guessing Gojo wasn’t sure of what would work well for us”

“That’s not what I mean, I mean we did great!”

He scoffed in slight amusement.

“Yeah, I knew we would”

“You mean you knew because I kicked your ass the last time we sparred?” a cheeky smile appeared on your face.

“As far as I remember, I was declared the winner” he raised an eyebrow

“Small details, truthfully it was a tie.”

“Right…” Megumi decided to cut the conversation, focusing more on wiping dry blood from your skin.

Finally he exhaled, his hand moved away, examining your face carefully. A soft frown appeared on his face as his eyes fell on your lips.

“Did you cut your lip?”

“Oh? Not that I’m aware of, it doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s bloody.”

Megumi’s fingers on your chin tensed up, sliding the cotton ball over your lip and then discarding it. He tilted your head to the right, blinking and squinting. With the same hand he was holding your jaw, he swiped his thumb over the lower lip.

With widened eyes you stared at him, alarm bells suddenly going off in your head and your irregular breathing hitting his skin, his gaze fixed on the way your soft lip molded under his fingertip. Tangled thoughts raced in your head, trying to figure out the sudden change in the atmosphere and the accelerating pace of your beating heart.

“It’s not wounded” Megumi’s voice was barely audible and you noticed the way his body had just gotten as stiff as yours, probably gaining awareness of the context you were both were surrounded by: him in between your thighs, under the cover of dim lightning and the silence of the night, being the closest to one another you had ever been.

Dark eyes wandered over your mouth, following his thumb as it now slid to the other side. Hesitantly, he moved even closer until his lips hovered over yours. The anticipation that filled the room made sure to cut off both your breathing and his. But then, Megumi closed the distance between your mouths, lashes lowering and hidden feelings bursting out into the open. Megumi’s kiss was soft, and you made sure to reciprocate slowly, easing into the unknown sensation of kissing him.

When the kiss stopped he remained still. Your shaky hands slid up his shirt, fingertips grasping the fabric to keep him in place for as long as the sweet burning sensation sat on your guts. You weren't sure of what came over yourself, maybe it was the curiosity of having him as more than a friend. Maybe it was the thoughts that had constantly whispered at the back of your head how attractive you thought he was, the thoughts you had made sure to ignore and so you never acted on them. Maybe it was the thrill of crumbling his aloof and distant demeanor in between your hands.

Maybe it had been all of those things together, but you slightly and eagerly nudged your nose against his. And so he kissed you again, with a deep sigh of surrender and his hands roaming up your thighs. The sounds of kissing filled the kitchen, your tongue sliding across his tongue, his hungry mouth now fighting against your, your fists pulling from his shirt. His fingers squeezed your skin, a breathy exhale left your throat almost becoming a soft whine.

Megumi’s hands then settled on your hips, until he suddenly stopped, freezing in place and then pulling away from you to search for your eyes. You stared back in a bit of a daze.

“What…” the black haired sorcerer tried to form a coherent sentence, but it seemed like his brain for once wasn’t cooperating.

“I…” you cleared your throat, blinking a couple of times “I don’t know.”

He swallowed, trying to find words once again.

“Listen, I…”

“It’s okay” nervously you tightened your grip on his shirt, now anxious of letting him go “we don’t have to talk about this today or tomorrow. We can just… forget it happened.”

Slowly, Megumi nodded.

“We can just let it be… for tonight.”

“Yeah” you pulled him close again, his body relaxed as he followed your movement and searched for your lips once more.

“Yeah, just for tonight…”

• 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄

Toge’s eyes followed you around as you picked and discarded objects from the first aid kit. At first he was annoyed at how much you had insisted on taking care of the wounds your last fight had inflicted, but at a certain point he had stopped complaining and just… stared. Now, you knew Toge wasn’t one to say much, because he couldn’t, but even when he didn’t say actual normal words he also wasn’t one to shut up. There was always some 'okaka's and 'tuna's and he would gesticulate here and there, he just had to let you know his opinion on absolutely everything. But now… he was absolutely silent.

You walked over to the kitchen counter, where he had sat down begrudgingly and now he was just lazily waiting.

“Bend over a little, will you?” you sighed, wet cotton in your hand.

His lavender eyes stared curiously, but he did as you asked and moved closer so you could reach for his face. There was a bloody scrape right next to his brow, product of a bad landing during the fight with the curse. You held your breath to gain courage and put aside your romantic feelings for the boy, then reached to cup his cheek with your left hand in order to keep him steady and started cleaning the almost dry blood.

He winced, a pitiful expression appeared on your face.

“Sorry” your voice softened “I’ll be finished soon, don’t worry, this is the last one.”

You expected him to say something, he would’ve usually just muttered a 'shake' or something, and yet he didn’t. When you were finally done you sighed once again, lowering your hands and grasping the edge of the counter.

“Alright, that’s it, why aren’t you speaking to me?” Toge raised a brow, as if your question was ridiculous to him “don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

He pressed his lips against each other and then shrugged.

“Are you mad at me?” your brows almost touched, his eyes widened.

“Okaka” he immediately shook his head.

“Oh, so now you’re talking” he snorted, finally letting a small smile shine through “there’s something off, I can tell…”

He bit his lip and shrugged again, this time pointing to his head with his index.

“Thinking?”

“Shake”

“About what?”

His eyes seemed to shine in a peculiar way, trying to hold back a smirk. It was almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask that question for a while. Toge pointed at you, made a small heart with his index and thumb, and then pointed at himself. You blinked about twice, blankly.

“You’re thinking… about you and me?”

He squinted and motioned 'more less', then repeated the previous gesture: you, heart, him.

“You’re thinking…” you heart him. Suddenly your eyes widened, a blush rapidly crept up your face “you’re thinking i like you?”

Toge then grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

“Huh” you exhaled nervously, eyes shying away from him “right when i thought i was the best at understanding you seems like i still don’t get what is going on inside that head of yours.”

He chuckled, his right hand searched for his phone in his pocket and then quickly typed something up in the notes app. You just expectantly watched him as he conveyed his thoughts into written words.

“I’m not thinking you like me, i’m thinking i know you like me”

“Narcissistic much?” you quirked one of your eyebrows and he snorted “what makes you think that?”

“Just the way you look at me, and the way you act around me. Panda had pointed it out before but i’m just now thinking maybe he was right”

“I treat you just like all of my other friends!” you looked up at his eyes again, this time in defiance, but he tilted his head, raising his brows in disbelief “alright then, what have i done with you that i wouldn’t have done with anyone else?”

With a smile, Toge rubbed his cheek and then placed his index right on top of yours.

“Blushing?”

“Shake”

“You’re insinuating that I have romantic feelings for you, of course i’m gonna be embarrassed!”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. Then, he cupped your left cheek, raising your face towards his and supporting your chin with his ring finger and pinky. You frowned, quickly catching up with the fact that he was holding your face in the same way you had done just moments before.

“… I was just taking care of you…” your whisper worsened your blush.

“always”

He chuckled at your shocked expression, the sound waves of his harmless words making you shiver. It wasn’t everyday that he’d risk speaking normally.

“… well, yes, i care for you”

“a lot” you bit your lip, there was no denying that, so you swallowed your nerves and looked away, he snickered “you’re cute”

Once again the surprise froze you, the power in his voice making your body tremble, what he had said made a sweet nervous feeling flutter around your stomach. He leaned in, you held your breath. Toge placed a lovely kiss on your lips, and you delicately but firmly kissed him back, the sliding of his lips on yours enticing and elating. A soft wave of cursed energy flowed through your mouth, but the moment he slid his tongue on your lower lip and you opened your mouth it rose in intensity. You had to cling from his shirt to keep yourself steady, the moment his marked tongue brushed against yours a sharp wave of electricity ran down your throat, pulling a whimper out from your vocal chords.

He pulled back to look at you and you panicked, embarrassed.

“I’m- oh god i’m so sorry!” your face was burning red at that point “it’s just that- i can feel your cursed energy.”

His eyes widened with surprise and worry, hopping off the counter his hands grabbed your shoulders.

“Takana?!”

“I’m fine! I’m totally fine” cupping his face you tried to comfort him, and it worked, he relaxed, but you pulled him closer again, your noses brushing “it felt… really nice…”

You lips searched for his, Toge smirked in amusement to your reaction, but he complied. So slowly, he kissed you again. The feeling of his energy running trough you seemed to make the blood in your veins rush in bliss, pulling sounds from the depths of your chest. Suddenly his hand slithered to the back of your head and he deepened the kiss, the mark on his tongue making contact with yours and making you gasp and jolt against his body. Toge giggled, but caught you in his arms, resting his back on the counter.

“Come on Toge, won’t you have mercy on me?” you complained, Toge shook his head slowly, and by the way he smiled you knew he was about to pull one of his stunts.

“Be louder” his lips immediately crashed back onto yours.

[ladybyakuya]

IS WHAT LOVE IS ? | GEN NARUMI.

+cw.— omegaverse au ( alpha!male x beta!reader ) + roommates au + college / university au, gen narumi x f!reader, fast burn ( we don't appreciate it enough ), world building, angst & hurt, smut, mentions of alcohol, bullying, blood and physical injuries.

+syn.— When college got busy with upcoming internships, classes became hectic, sleep schedule got fucked up and exam stress piled on: gen narumi sought blissful comfort in your presence. However, the same can not be said about you.

+wc. —5k ( dw I think I'll often talk about this in my main.) 

+playlist. — affection by between friends \ no love in L.A by dutch melrose \ fire by jvke \ is this what love is by wasia project.

+notes. — one of my favourite things to get things done by challenging myself so please be kind to me if you feel my writing is little off or not fitting my general pattern. thank you, enjoy reading. | redirect to blog navigation.

+tags. — into the omegaverse collab by @goxjo + other tags : @sukirichi @to-eden @stunie @interstellar-inn

[ one. ]

"We should fuck,"  Narumi announces walking into the dorm room half-clad in the towel and boxers freshly showered, clusters of hair falling onto his face, wet and aromatic opening the door with a bang. Still, it failed to startle you like it generally does. His arm is still holding the door open as you try immersing yourself more into the university website that is spread open on your laptop attracting a fair amount of attention. A barely visible deft amongst his eyebrows arises as his presence remains unbeknownst to you even after he clears his throat. Are beta's senses that dull? 

You take the bluetooth earphones off your ears. "Did you say something?" you pose the question as if you are aware of his presence just now. 

Letting his fingers skim through his wet hair he grumbles, "We should fuck," with pinnable irritation in his voice not that you would know why he is being cranky. 

It is your turn to be silent. Your eyes switch over to the calendar hanging on the wall right beside him. It is still two weeks for Gen before he starts to show the bare minimum signs of an approaching rut. Besides, he has never been this ridiculous. "Did the summer heat finally take your sanity?" you exclaim with a scoff returning the annoyance right back at him but respectable enough to look at him as you spoke. Your phone chimes followed by a vibration and Narumi is forced to cover one of his ears with the arm that has been holding the door all the while; his other ear suffers the damage.

"How many times did I tell you to tone it down a few notches?" He gets inside finally closing the door. All you could spare for response is nothing but a glance of unease. Who is he to tell you what to do and what not? You put your notebooks and a few things in your bag as his whistle finally blows off. "It's been two years already. when are you going to finally give in to my alpha charms, huh? I know that you are no strangers to the modern ideas of mating. I mean you are quite active so why don't we just celebrate the last year of graduation being fuck buddies rather than just roommates?"  You roll your eyes when you are still facing his back to him. You turn around to tuck your hair behind your ears making the bluetooth earphones visible. Holding up your fisted right wrist in his direction you tap on the watch two times and fist out your palm with all five fingers and Narumi just squits his eyes. Before he could make full sense of what you are conveying, you are already out of the door and Narumi knows better than anyone that you love listening to music at high volumes without interruption. Maybe you do so because you are a beta or you are sad or annoyed about something. It couldn't be him, could it? Sometimes when the surroundings get too quiet and you are listening to music he can hear what song it is. 

Not that he is a fan of your music taste but he has rather expressed in preposterous ways to exhibit his distaste for your tastes, likes, and dislikes, sometimes even unasked for one and you were fine with it. You were fine with his obnoxious, rude, and rough behavior. Even in his class, he has a hard time getting along with his batchmates. Every once in a while he would come up with bloody knuckles or a bleeding nose, scratches in his face sometimes and you would have no other choice but to tend to his wounds. You never bothered to ask how he got hurt or why he hurt others and he never decided to divulge. Being at the top of the university has prevented him from getting expelled. The professors are fed up with him but are willing to put up with him only because he is sincere in his studies. And, he is surprisingly good at it given his nature. Sharing a room for almost more than two years with an alpha like Gen Narumi is not a cakewalk, especially for a beta like you. Even before moving into the dorm room, you knew that you would either be paired with an omega or an alpha. You knew what you were getting into and with the advancement of medicinal chemistry cohabitation with other species of your kind has become easier than before yet the primal urges never really fade, do they? After all, what is more dangerous than an unmated alpha? 

You check the time. You are so early for someone who has an interview for the first time. You sit with the other candidates without a slice of panic in your body. Thanks to Gen for nuking your attention into something that you would never expect in nightmares or another universe. Like what the fuck was that? What kind of question was that? Was that even a question? As for a fact, an alpha's desire is too innate to ignore. And with the amount of patience stored in Gen Narumi's body if anything was possible it would have happened in the first few months of college year. Wait a minute! is he finally asking you out after trying to hide it for almost two years? If yes, that would certainly explain why one time he gave you cologne on your birthday which would complement his scent too. Not only that, it would surely explain how he snuggles to you during movie nights, or on liquid nights he would almost spoon you when his ruts were approaching he was too broke to buy video games. But at the same time, you can not completely claim those actions as an act of pursuit of seeking a potential mate in you since it was just an extremely rare occurrence. 

You remember the time when both of you just came from an exam semester party being too drunk, high, and happy to change or freshen up. Both of you just passed out on the nearest bed to the door of the room and you swear you felt a graze of something sharp upon the nook of your neck. But you swiped that thought at the back of your mind thinking it as a dream or some bad alcoholic effect. That night you woke up with Narumi in your bed sleeping like a log, a loud log to be specific. You have always given him space during his ruts since it works better that way; rather than arguing to come to a truce. That's how you have always been. That's how betas had to be. You would always find him buried under a futon with bloodshot with a game controller in his hand, and a lot of junk food packets all around the room yet you chose to give him space because that is how you avoid alphas like him; the more you indulge with him, the greater the chances to be under his target radar. 

"Y/N L/N is next. Be prepared." the mic announces breaking the pensive silence and your reverie of thoughts for a mere blinking moment.

On the first day when you moved in you clearly stated that you would file a complaint if he ever tried to scent you, mark you during his ruts. He just joked saying, "So, it's okay when I'm not in a rut?" but you would not budge or answer him so he mentioned in a sing-songy tone, "Oh don't worry. Betas are hard to influence. You should know that darling.  Plus, you are not exactly my type." with a smug so loud on his face that you wished you could throw something at his face but engaging with him would give him a crack to widen the gulf, explore and test waters. . .you know better than that. But since unlike other alphas, he listened to it, he abided by it, he sustained it—- well tried to or he was just poking the bear for fun. He often does that when he is out of video games. 

That is how you have always maintained a boundary between him and you. 

Gen Narumi finds it impenetrable. You think all the things he does, he does it out of respect which is not exactly true. There is respect but just a pinch. Sharing a room with a beta wouldn't be too bad. That's what he thought when he came to know about you. He did mention in his admission form that he would not like an omega as his roommate but he did not expect it to be beta. It could have been an alpha or a zeta, someone either loud or too mute. Mediocrity has always been a foreign concept to him. And what's up with "do not scent me or mark me." as if he would be interested in such things. He is not like other alphas. Some alphas spend their ruts giving in to their urges while some take suppressants. Gen Narumi belongs to neither of them. He spends his ruts eating junk and playing video games. works both ways actually. It has always been like that since he was expressed as alpha in society. What would he do to a beta? or that's what he thought. 

This morning when he said, well, suggested that you and him should fuck he was possessed perhaps. Why on earth would he say that? It does not make any sense because never in two years he has thought or even looked at you with a splotch of romance. Most of the alphas in his batch have already found a mate or maybe were forced to. He might be the only unmated alpha in this university which is why lesser potential omegas approach him. An unmated alpha is always seen under the lens of threat. And, if they came to know how he spends his ruts, they would not even acknowledge him as an alpha. At the start of the college year, he would often end up bullied by other alphas because of that. The last thing he wants to do is to use his pheromones on others. Why would he waste it on others? He doesn't exactly know for what or whom he is saving it. He would come to the room late whenever he got into a fight. One time he was so tired of all the bullying that he did not even try to defend himself or scare them away. By the time he reached the dorm room,  he was too hurt to breathe properly. That night Gen Narumi came to know that even a beta can calm an alpha, and nurse them into good health if needed. He was too hurt to protest or say anything, all he could do was to imbibe your scent while you were taking care of him. Even betas have a smell. Did you do that on purpose? release pheromonic signals to calm him? Would it be so hard to believe if he were to say that most alphas took their roommates as mates? He can certainly try, at the very least he will get a good laugh out of your reaction. If you did that on purpose he has a chance to show other alphas that he is actually an alpha not that he cares what they say but since you showed your interest in him in a puzzled way he would certainly try to match your level. wouldn't this be a win-win situation if he fucked you? For you, for him, and others as well; it certainly would. That's right. This morning you did not pay enough attention to him so he will say it again just so he can reject you. That's what an exceptional alpha would do. He is exceptionally good at gaming and studies though so he can not see why he should let this opportunity slip through his hands like sand.

You open the door with the help of keys while holding your bag in one hand and your cell phone in the other. Gen does not leave his seat to hold the door rather graces you a glance and goes back to whatever he is doing. 

“Yeah. I’ll definitely call you back, Hoshina-san.” you disconnect the call and Gen’s eyes are on you. He does not look away so you took it as a cue to explain something, anything. He just needs some info to be fed so that he does not start again. “Hoshina Soshiro is gonna be my supervisor if I get the job. The interview wasn’t so bad but I don’t wanna get my hopes up. He is one of the best and doing an internship under his guidance would be a great start. ”

“Stay away from that guy,” Gen grumbles looking back at his desk. It is unusually neat today. Not to mention his futon bed is folded and kept on his bed in a side enough that one can sleep peacefully without any problem. You would have said something to him if your attention did not keep faltering . . .Gen rolls his revolving chair in your direction, one of his legs is touching the wheels of the chair while the other is stretched creating a huge gap. His left-hand travels under his t-shirt and it hooks on his right shoulder.  "we should fuck," he declares, inept and inert.

"oh god! Not again" you let out a groan and sit on the bed near to you. Your head is in hands not because of what he said or what he did, not even because your patience is thinning with each tick of the clock enough to not to put up with this anymore but because of what is about to come out of his mouth the next.

"So, you heard me the first time ?" he barks while leaving his chair. You just wave your hand nonchalantly in a gesture to dismiss him but he locks his hands in his chest taking a stern stance in front of you.

You tilt up your head looking him in the eye, "You know Gen we shouldn't do this," your elbows rest on your thighs as you start to scratch your index finger with the other.

"don't you mean can't? you can't do this?" Is he serious? Isn’t he joking? Oh God. Why isn’t he joking like he generally does? Maybe a reaction would keep him quiet but what kind? A yes? A no? Or a laugh?

"you know better than others that I can fuck, literally too sometimes." You exclaim hoping to judge if this is really serious or just some sort of prank. If the latter, then it's not funny. If the former, then you might have to consider moving out. You get up from his bed to grab towels and bathroom needs."Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Maybe I need to prove to someone that I'm an alpha." Gen regrets saying that. Your hands have stopped as you look at him which rarely happens. You never do one thing at a time. Fuck! You’re still looking at him. Gen unlocks one of his hands and scratches his jaw. 

"well, you chose a very wrong person to fuck, to prove then. I despise alphas. I would be much happier if you weren't one," That’s a little harsh, even from you. 

"as if a beta like you could get me hard." You keep the shampoo and conditioner bottle on the desk with much greater force than needed. Here it comes. . .Oh okay.

"Well, have you been with Beta before?" Gen tries to dodge the bullet because this is not the direction of conversation he wants to go. "that's exactly my point-" 

"an omega?" you pause and take a few steps towards him "An alpha?"  

“Wha—t? What’re — you talking — about?” Gen blabbers. He does not step away as you come closer but he has the urge to do so.

"god. Please find someone else to lose your virginity." You turn around the moment you finish deciphering his goal. Gen starts to growl underneath everything that comes out of his mouth now. "me being an alpha won't affect you being a beta if we were to fuck. and I don't wanna hurt an omega or alpha—His patience is thinning out too. This really isn’t the way he wanted this to go.

"But you'd hurt me?"

"That's not what I meant,"

"Are you a virgin, Gen Narumi?"

"Yes—I mean no." He glitches and now he can not look at you.

"Which is it?"

". . ." 

"I'm too tired to think about it now," you express with an exasperated sigh walking towards the bathroom.

"Is that a yes?"

"maybe be,"

"forget it." His tone is too sharp, demanding for someone who was begging you to fuck.

"What?" You stop before entering the bathroom and turn your head to him. "forget it" He repeats. You tilt your head, "But you just said. . ." you are starting to understand what this is really about. He does not want to fuck you neither want to lose his virginity or whatever he is trying to protect. It is his alpha ego acting up. He wants you to say yes so that he can reject you so that it strokes his alpha-nature. That’s it.

Your face distorts in disdain in his dense thought process.

Gen Narumi squints his eyes and then blinks. When he opens his eyes you are in front of him. You push him onto the nearest bed, your bed, and sit on his lap, legs folded and creating a dip on the mattress under the pressure of it, thighs grazing his pelvis.

"what're you doing?" Gen gasps as you let your palms touch his chest. He is gonna explode. His heart is beating so fast. You can feel it. Oh My God. You didn’t think this through.

"Well, let's see if a beta can get you hard or not." 

You undress your top. You are not an omega. There is no stench. But your scent is so muted that he has to either influence you to emit some or get closer to inhale. The first option is a no-no because he would not like to anger you while you are on his lap. So, he has to get closer. Wait, closer than this? The smell from that night threatens his senses and memory. Before the realization fully hits his brain, his hand moves in your direction but you stop him. Did you do something wrong? Both hands are now aligned with his. You notice how your hands are different from his. His fingers are rough and raw. Yours are at least, well-maintained. You slowly interlace his fingers with yours folding his hands at the back. He could easily swat you away but he is not doing that. You lean into his face and he does not move away so you take that as a yes to lick from his collarbones up to his chin and immediately pull away. 

Narumi’s eyes are closed, head still tilted. Without giving him a moment of reprieve you let your lips graze on his, just barely, and pull away just a little, wet yours and thereby skimming at his bottom lip in the process. He opens his eyes, slowly looks at you, and then your lips. He is breathing like a tired puppy. He inclines, perhaps for a kiss but you sway your head giving him access to the side of your neck. As you graze your cheek against his jaw, his hands that are still at the back are held by you but it is slowly getting lithe as you feel his lips on your shoulders, hot tongue on your skin, and then a sharp graze of his fang from your shoulder up to the back of your ear. You tip your head down for a moment feeling goosebumps arise on your skin barely allowing him any moments of reprieve, only permitting a rare moment to breathe. You watch Narumi intently, unafraid to make things awkward, but Narumi is too distracted by his inner crisis to notice the amused stare mere centimeters from his face; studying him.

The tip of your tongue curls slowly but forcefully, tracing the plump of your bottom lip before sliding across Gen’s own and trailing the roof of his mouth. Eyes watching intently. Controlled. Curious. Amused. But then you abruptly pull away, lips shiny and wet. Before Narumi can ask why, your lips curl in on themselves, hiding a smug smile. It looks like you can’t catch your breath — like if you do, you will erupt into laughter. But a lopsided grin finally breaks free, tugging at your lips, when your eyes flash down to Narumi’s torso and back up.

Narumi freezes, heart, hammering in his ribs.

He’s hard.

“That was fast,” You smirk — and you stand. “I’m going to shower now.” you release your grip from his hands and get off his lap.  Gen watches you go into the bathroom and looks down at his boner biting his bottom lip; a click of his tongue follows as he checks the time. It is too late to go out now.

when you come out of the shower he is not there. A part of you worries if he got into a fight or something or maybe he is with his big hot alpha friends bragging about how he turned you down. You hit the bed with a thud, exhaustion creeping up from your toe to head, slowly. You do not give a damn what he says about you to other alphas or anyone in general. A beta will always have to watch out for themselves. They can not rely upon anyone, not even their kind because most betas are dumb enough to mingle with alphas and get turned into omega with or without consent.

Look what fate landed upon your mother when she took an alpha as her mate. You let out a wry chuckle. Sleep seems like a foreign land somewhere in heaven.

[ two. ]

It has been two days since Narumi left. Some of his batchmates have started to ask you during recess and breaks between classes. You answered them the same thing every time. “I don’t know.” or “he didn’t tell me before going.” or “How should I know? I’m not his mate who can sense it. Go find his mate.” or “he didn’t take his phone. So I don’t know.” truly it had not bothered you until Professor Shinomiya showed up at your doorstep asking for his whereabouts. You politely and patiently answered him the same very thing that you have been telling anyone who asked about Narumi. For a hated unmated alpha he sure is popular.

On the third day, late at night, there is a knock on your door. You go and open without hesitation. Narumi enters wearing the same clothing he wore the last time you saw him, only a little fade. His hair is wet and it is not raining outside so he comes back after going missing for two days, freshly showered. Bloodshot eyes, hair messed up, and mayhem all over his body.

“Welcome back.” You say but Gen does not say anything but goes straight to his study desk. He has a test coming up. Professor Shinimiya said that so you would contact him if you had the means. Your day-to-day notebook is on his study table, under the stack of his books, and guess what? That is exactly what you need the most right now because without it you would not be able to work on your applications and resumes. It has all the details and info you. The moment you touch the stack of books, Narumi’s hands are over yours.

“Are you—-? Where were you ?” You ask and For the first time in your life, you feel that something inside you went missing. When did that happen?

Gen stands up but you do not scoot away as he closes the gap between him and you. That’s what he likes about you. You were never afraid of him. You never considered him as a threat like others. Now, that he is closer you can smell several mixes of strong musky aromas. It is odd. You have been close to him before, but never once knew his scent. Is he in a rut?  Or did something bad happen? Did he. . .? Was he attacked by a gang of omegas or alphas? It makes your stomach turn thinking about whatever the probable reason for such a state as his. 

“Oh? You can tell?” There is a few inches gap between his face and yours. His palm is still intact on yours. The grip is lithe yet you don’t move your hand away.

“Gen? What? OH. God.” You had to swallow since tears threatened your eyes. “Are you okay?” A trembling whisper is all it takes for him to finally say something.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“Just leave for a few days. Go to some friend’s house or something,” He is still sitting, his eyes are on the open book now but his hand is still over yours.

“Why? What did I do?” You ask trying to move away your hand but in a swift moment, he grabs your wrist and pulls you closer as he stands up. 

“I’m — in a rut. So, I need you to stay away from me.”

“But — I’m a beta. You don’t need to worry.”

That is funny. It is because of you that he is such a shipwreck now. It was your pheromones that fucked him up. It was you who calmed him with scents when he came home injured. It was you who had no control over pheromones when drunk. It was you all along and despite that, he can not bring himself to hate you. Why can’t he hate you when he wants to? He even took a whole bunch of suprresants before coming back here. Gen laughs at your naive sentiment so blaring that you take a few steps back but he yanks you back to himself, a little too forceful than he intended to be resulting in you on top of him sprawled on the cold floor.

“Ohh? Why do you think I rub my fangs against your neck? You don’t think I do that for fun, do you?” You are still trying to get away from his grip but he is strong. He is stronger than you have known all these two years. “Are you too dumb to know that if I bite and knot you enough times you will turn into an o—

Thwack!

Narumi’s head is tilted away from yours. The exposed side of his cheek is red, his ears are thrumming and he has to force himself to keep his eyes open. Fuck. You’re strong. That was one hell of a slap.

“I know that. I’ve known that all my life. You don’t need to tell me that,” you yell looking down at his t-shirt. A cry is at the brink when you see a few drops of water fall on his top.  You try your best not to fall apart in front of him but it is just too much. Hearing such a thing what your mother went through and then slowly becoming a victim of it is nothing but a slow poison. You refuse to live the life your mother led. You refuse to owe your existence to an alpha. 

Narumi’s lips form a crescent but it is quickly clouded when your body starts to shake. You cover your face as you start to crumble like Rome in front of him. 

Folding his legs he sits up. His hands rest on the floor to support himself as he whispers, “Hey, stop crying.”  His voice is calm, pupils back to normal, not red anymore. “Please” He insists. “I’d hate to use my pheromones on you, especially now” 

You slowly look up wiping off your tears with your hand.

“Tell me y/n have I ever used my pheromones on you?” 

“No. Never.” Your hands fall on his chest. “But I still hate you. Why would you say something like that?” You stifle a sob and continue. “I know. I’ve never opened up to you—-” Your voice turns up, anger laced underneath. “But never did you. You think I don’t know—- that alphas bully you? Oh please! I know better than anyone what an alpha’s beating looks like.” You inhale a long breath, “I mean I have known that my entire life. I’ve seen my mother all my life— and I can’t see someone else getting hurt because of me . . . your voice breaks into a cry again and you inhale so as not to cry anymore but what good that would do now that he has seen the core of vulnerability in you that was tucked inside carefully with layer upon layer.

“Well,” Narumi starts to speak. “Save me then. Save me from this torment.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Narumi jocks down to meet your gaze. “Be my God and I will be your devotee.”

You try to get on your feet. Gen’s eyes follow you, each of your movements until you are standing on your own. He is still sitting on the floor in the same stance, laid back and amused.  He is sure you will say no. He has done this before. Back then you thought he was speaking out of delirium but that night when you saved his life he felt like he found a God to worship. He remembers saying, “I think I love you, Y/N L/N.” and you scoffed at him saying in no world an alpha like you would feel that about a beta like you when there is a bevy of omegas around him.

“Okay.” You murmur.

Gen’s mouth is parted. His eyes are big in surprise. “But just so you know, I’m hard to please,” you mumble with a sniff getting out of the room to make a call.

[stone-stars]

[ID: A breakdown table of the Inn Between characters. Teresa is the DM. Cal plays Betty, Knowles, and an unnamed Dragonborn Fighter. Em plays Meltyre, Rosie, and Phoebe. Alex plays Fina, Tode, and Max. River plays Velune, Castor, and Rukes. Michael plays Sterling, Zara, and Larkin]

Session Zero has me galaxy braining.

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 5,818

Warning: dirty talk, language, making out, wedding duties (lol), oral sex, smutty smut

A/N: Our final part 🥹💚 wow what a journey! There will be an epilogue for our sweet beans next week! Along with the start of the Best Friend!Suguru series.I'm so sorry for the late post, I was so sick yesterday and sleepy from my medication! But better late than never! ! If you want to be included in the tag list, YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Eight

For two days, two days, you and Satoru spent most of the time in your room. Wrapped up in your sheets, him on top of you, you on top of him. You only separated for the rehearsal dinner and getting your nails done. But the second you were back in his arms, he made up for the lost time like you had been gone for years. His lips were on yours in slow, gentle kisses that became passionate.

Those same kisses would end on the futon, which probably had seen more action in the last forty-eight hours than since the inn opened. Satoru bent you in all different positions, twisting you like a pretzel, stretching you in ways you didn't even know was possible. He made it his goal to make up for the year and a half that you didn’t sleep with anyone. Gojo Satoru turned you into a mess- a withering mess.

“Oooh holy shit.” you cried out, gripping the blanket, “fuuuuck oooh fuck Satoru.”

“Yeah~? Does that feel good~?”

“S-So good~!”

“Mhmm~ good.”

Fingers moved gently, expertly making your back arch, jaw opening in a soft cry of pleasure. Satoru bit his lip, his fingers increasing the pressure against you. Cerulean eyes narrowed, focusing on your face, watching how your eyes rolled back and your face flushed.

“T-Toru~Toru.” Toes curled as you cried softly, eyes watering.

“Oooh yeah~ you gonna cum~?”

Blinking, you lift an eyebrow, watching Satoru wiggle his at you. His fingers are massaging into your sore feet, kneading away knots and easing the aching muscles. Both of you were fully clothed, sitting on the back porch overlooking the gardens. Anyone around would have assumed you both were doing the deed from how loud you were being.

“Oh my god, was I being that loud?”

“What~? No!” You relaxed a little, your feet still in his lap. Thumbs worked at a particularly sore spot, making you whine again. “I’m pretty sure Suguru heard that whine, and he's in Tokyo.”

“Ya’ know what—”

You try pulling your feet away, only to have Satoru yank them back into his lap, inadvertently pulling you closer to him. “Stop, I'm just teasing. Let me do this.” his fingers continue working, moving gently over your feet. “You were in the kitchen all morning, making a three-tier wedding cake. Then those ‘friends’ of yours make you wear heels to take pictures. And you have to wear heels for the wedding tomorrow?” Satoru shook his head, white tufts of hair swaying.

“I offered to bake the cake, the benefit of having a baker as a friend.” His thumbs hit a sore spot, making you jolt. “But the heels are torture.”

“They seem like it.”

A soft, comfortable silence filled with chirping crickets and a distant wind chime grew between you. You just sat there while Satoru rubbed at your sore feet under the blanket of glittering stars. You had one more day together here in Kyoto, then a train ride back home, and you would be back to reality. A reality that had changed drastically over the last week.

When you both retired to your room, you lay in bed staring at the ceiling in thought. You had gone from a woman who was quiet, shy, and hell-bent on not needing anyone to this giggly, joyful woman who couldn’t be any happier. Satoru had peeled away at the layers of scar tissue you had hidden yourself in. He brought a certain confidence out in you. Being with him was as easy as breathing; even when you returned home to your mundane lives, you had faith you both would continue to strive forward. To keep your relationship going strong.

Strong as the urge to stay in bed with him all day despite your fellow bridesmaids pounding on your door the next morning. Satoru grumbled in horny frustration; his cock was pressed firmly over your barely clothed core. You pulled your lips away from his neck, pushing your hair back, groaning at the sudden interruption.

“I have to go, Toru.” You pulled off of him, giggling as he threw his head back. “Hey~ don’t be like that; we’ll pick up where we left off tonight.”

“Wedding sex is the best kind of sex. Especially when you’re on a sugar rush.”

You looked over your shoulder at him, grinning ear to ear. “That sounds enticing.” Satoru sat up on his elbows, licking his lips.

“Oh, it’s gonna happen tonight,” Satoru promised with a shake of his head. “I promise you that.”

Another knock at the door, “If you don’t come out! We’re coming in! Regardless of how indecent you two are!” A series of knocks sounded from the other side of the door by several different hands from the sound of it.

”I better go before they knock down the door.” With a pout, you leaned down, kissing Satoru goodbye before heading out. “I’ll see you later!” just before you shut the door to the room, you pouted as Satoru watched, sticking his bottom lip out. “It’s just three hours, babe!”

Three hours flew by before you knew it. The excitement of getting ready for the wedding and seeing your best friend practically buzzing in anticipation fueled everyone's energy. While you were bouncing up and down eagerly waiting to see Satoru in a tailored suit. Just imagining him had you grinning as you stared out the bridal suite window, looking towards the garden decorated for the joyous event.

“So, when are you and Satoru getting married?”

”Eh!?” All of your friends surrounded you, devilish smiles gracing their faces. “I-I—we are not getting married!” At least not yet. “We’ve barely started going out.” Literally. “There’s no indication that we're even considering that!”

“Oh, please!”

“Says the girl that’s been locked in her room with said boyfriend for the last two days!”

Your face burned like a fresh sunburn. “S-So! That does not mean that we’re getting married anytime soon!” All of your friends booed in protest. “Will the whole lot of you stop? Seriously, I don’t want you guys scaring off Satoru!” The bride stepped forward in her gown and all of her glory. “Finally, Mina, will you please talk some sense into them!?” Your best friend looked amongst the other girls, all dressed in a beautiful sky blue. For a moment, you thought she might take your side. But the second a smirk at the corner of her mouth, you knew she didn’t have your back.

“I was going to ask you the same question! The man would’ve fucked you against the wall at the bar no one stopped him!”

“Oh my God!”

“I’m serious! I think I’ll hand you the bouquet when I toss it!”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, I think I will!”

“We are not getting married—not yet!”

Satoru sat off to the side, right next to your parents, as the wedding started. He watched with wide and sparkling eyes as you walked down the aisle with a groomsman. Your hair was styled beautifully, and the flowing sky-blue dress looked stunning on your figure and complimented your skin tone. His mouth felt suddenly dry as you looked at him, giving him a gentle, sweet smile. Cupid himself must have shot him through the heart at that moment because fuck, he was falling so hard for you.

“Ma’am—“ he learned next to your mother's ear, “just so you know, the next wedding we host here will be ours.”

“Huh?!”

Her reaction didn’t even seem to faze him. All he cared about was standing near the front of an outdoor arch decor with flowers of different colors—a gentle breeze brushed by you, making your hair and the dress flow. Even when the bride made her grand entrance, everyone turned to see her walking down the aisle towards her future husband. Satoru had his eyes locked on you.

You could feel his eyes, and that burning sensation had your focus transfixed on him. Was it wrong to be looking at your wedding date instead of the bride-to-be? The chances of that were very likely. But how could you not stare back? When his eyes burned holes into your very soul and left your heart racing like you had just run a marathon. It was impossible to pay attention to anyone else.

He was so handsome. Satoru was wearing a white button-down shirt with a blue tie that matched your dress. His navy blue jacket and pants were tailored to his body perfectly. You could tell by its appearance that it was expensive. It was probably more expensive than your best friend's wedding dress. You wanted to rip it off of him and let him take you right there in the garden.

Yes, he was extremely good-looking. But it wasn’t his clothes or his appearance or the fact that he had money that made you so attracted to him at that moment. The way he looked at you, eyes trailing over your body, with a soft grin, told you everything you needed to know. Satoru truly cared for you. This wasn’t just about sex, and it wasn’t the magic of the wedding to be. Chemistry, connection, and attraction were one hundred percent genuine.

After exchanging vows and rings, hundreds of pictures were taken with everyone. You were finally free from your wedding duties. The first thing you did as soon as you broke away from the rest of the group was run to Satoru’s side. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you tight to his chest. Lips pressed against the temple of your head, and you could’ve sworn he let out a little sigh of happiness to have you back in his arms.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” He cupped a strand of hair behind your ear before gently reaching down, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Is it wrong for me to say you’re even more beautiful than the bride?”

“Satoru!” you playfully punched at his shoulder, “I am not.”

“Oh, you are; that’s a god-given fact, sweetheart.” His thumbs brushed ever so lovingly over your cheek. “But there’s just one thing I would change about the outfit.”

“You and me both.” You winced, moving your arm away from the scratchy sequins top. “This material is an absolute nightmare for my underarms. I’m serious. You’ll probably have to put lotion on them for me later.”

“Oh.” Satoru deadpans. “ I wasn’t talking about the material.”

You hum in thought, looking over the dress for any flaws he may have noticed. “Oh?” When you didn’t find anything else wrong with the dress in your eyes, you tilted your head, looking up at Satoru. “Well, what would you change about it then?” His hand gently pulled your face closer to his own; he leaned down, the fresh smell of minty lemonade coaxing your nostrils.

“I’d change the color.”

“Wait, what?”

Your date says nothing for a beat of silence. “So anyways! Let’s grab our seats; I’ll get you one of the cocktails!”

He rambles on while you’re still stuck on how he would change the color of your dress. Surely, he meant he would do a different shade or maybe red instead of blue; there’s no possible way that he was talking about it to white. Yeah, he didn’t mean that at all! Your friends just put the stupid notion in your head that you guys are going to get married next. You didn’t even know what the two of you were yet. You hadn’t put a label on your relationship.

What you did know was that Satoru wanted to make your relationship work. So you knew for sure that you weren’t just another fuck buddy or client. This went deeper than that. What you both had was real, which was a lot more than other couples had. So who knew, maybe your friends were right? Perhaps Satoru had thought that white would make your dress look one million times better.

These were questions and answers for another day. You weren’t going to rush into things. Both of you wanted to take your time and get to know one another.

And you learned a lot of things about him as the party began. Like how he despised the taste of alcohol, he had mentioned it in passing when he walked you to the bachelorette party. But when he accidentally took a sip of a cocktail unintentionally, not knowing it had alcohol in it, the man sputtered and choked. His hands grabbed a cola from the bartender, chugging it like water. You learned that he was a pretty good dancer. He bumped and ground with you on the dance floor while the music blared. You learned how gentle his hands were as he slowly danced with you to one of the many love songs the DJ played.

He was so tentative to you. He’d always make sure you had a drink of some kind. He insisted that you drink plenty of water to avoid getting drunk. He even went to the room and grabbed your sandals when your high heels bothered you. God, he was everything and then some. If you hadn’t called for each other, he truly would have made this wedding a lot of fun for you. There was no doubt that he was worth every penny you were willing to spend to have a good time.

The party has toned down almost entirely, a few stragglers drunkenly laughing and drinking while others chat while eating the vanilla and raspberry compote cake you had made. Your best friend and her husband are one of two couples on the floor dancing to a slow song. The other was Satoru and the flower girl who had been smitten with his white hair and blue eyes. She was convinced he was Prince charming and begged him to dance with her. Satoru jumped at the opportunity. Gently placing her little feet on top of his shoes as he danced with her to the slow beat of the music.

Your gaze was locked on him as you nursed a cup of coffee between your hands. He was so perfect in every way, shape, and form. Satoru had made this one of the best nights of your entire life. God, you don’t think you’ve ever had so much fun at a wedding before. It was all thanks to him that you were having one of the most memorable nights of your life.

Those deep, happy thoughts are cut short when a tiny, chubby hand gently smacks your cheek. The sudden contact has you jumping, nearly spilling the hot coffee over your hands as you turn to see who has smacked you. You’re met with beautiful, big navy-colored eyes—dark tufts of hair spill over the head as the baby gently smacks your cheek again.

“Please don’t hit me, I have my kid.” a familiar voice speaks, “and don’t yell, please.”

You scoff, cocking an eyebrow up at Toji as he sits down in the chair next to you. “Are you seriously using your kid as a human shield?” Your ex shakes his head before looking over his shoulder, searching for someone.

“I cannot confirm nor deny that.” He cradles the babbling baby in his lap. “But if my wife is around, I will deny every word.”

“So you are using your child as a human shield.”

“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?”

“What do you want, Toji?”

He cradles his son in one arm, reaching into his suit jacket with his free hand. Toji pulls out a manila envelope and places it in front of you. Gingerly, taking it off the table, you open it and find the money you had left in the kitchen the other day. The money he almost ruined your relationship with Satoru over and the money you’d spent on him

He exhales deeply through his nose before clearing his throat. “What I did was wrong.” His son babbles, chubby little hands pulling the sleeve of his jacket. “I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened. I broke your heart, not once but twice. You, of all people, don’t deserve to be treated like that.” You cock an eyebrow. “And no, I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I just wanted to say that I was sorry. For breaking off our engagement the way that I did. For almost sabotaging your relationship with that brat over there.” His head jerks in Satoru’s direction.

“Yeah, you almost fucked that up for me.”

“Well, luckily, you guys worked it out.”

“Yeah, we did.” For the first time all week, you don’t feel the slightest bit of dread being near Toji. Maybe it was because you slapped the shit out of him, or perhaps it was because you felt as though your last confrontation was able to heal your wounds. “He’s a great guy.”

“Great for an escort.”

“Former escort.” You correct him with a smug smile. “Satoru sent in his resignation letter on Thursday after we talked.”

Toji’s eyes went wide before they softened with a gentle gaze that you hadn’t seen since high school. “Well shit, I guess I had him pegged wrong.” Taking another sip of your coffee, you giggle before resting your chin on your fist.

“I thought you said you were the greatest PI.”

“Nah, I’m one of the best.” Toni leans back, and in this light, you can see the slight discoloration on his face from both you and Satoru’s hits the other day. “I’m far from being the greatest. I wasn’t for you, but—“ he pressed his lips against his son’s head. “I’m trying to be a better person for this brat and my wife.”

“You always were an asshole.” Your point-blank statement had him wincing. “But if you hadn’t been an asshole, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. So thanks for being a dick.”

Toji tilts his head, chuckling. “You’re welcome, I guess.” A squealing babble has both you and Toji glancing down at his son. He gently gums at his father’s jacket, drooling over the fabric. Toji sighs and gently lifts the baby to stare at him. When he does, those navy blue eyes glance towards his chest that's straining against the fabric. His son smacks his lips in hunger. “Fuck, I gotta find my wife; the little shits hungry again. And I’d rather not have him gnawing at my pecs.” He stands and pauses before turning his child to face you.

The tiny human gurgles at you, tilting his head. “Uhm, Toji, I can’t feed him.” Your ex rolls his eyes so hard you can almost hear it.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know, I just—“ he sighs, “this is my son, Fushiguro Megumi.” You can’t help but smile at his name; a blessing.

“Well, hello there, Megumi.” You gently pet his hair back. “It’s nice to meet you; whatever you do, don’t turn out to be like your father.”

Toji barks out a sharp laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah, that’s for sure.” Megumi laughs loudly, smacking his hands against your face.

“Toji!” Both of you turn to see a woman with dark hair waving at him.

“That’s the wife, we’re leaving.” He cradles Megumi into his side ever so gently. “I’m sorry again for all the shit I put you through in the past and well in the last week.”

“Well, all that shit led me to someone pretty great.” Your eyes drift back to Satoru, who's walking the little girl back to her parents. “All those years of putting up with you gave me some good karma.”

“For putting up with me, you deserve the world.” He scoffs hurriedly to join his wife. “Later.”

You wave goodbye to him, returning to your cup just as Satoru joins you. Two plates with cake in his hands. “Was that Toji!?” His ocean eyes meet yours, searching for any sign or tears of frustration. “The hell did he want?” He shoves the sweet cake into his mouth before offering you a bite, which you eagerly take.

“Mhm, he just wanted to give me the money he owed me.”

“What you should have given him was a knuckle sandwich.” Your soft giggle has butterflies swarming inside his stomach.

“I already gave him one, so I’ll gladly take the money this time.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He takes another bite of cake. “It would be a shame for you to bruise those knuckles again.”

You press your body against him, relishing in the warmth. “You know I don’t even care anymore. I got hurt in the past. I wallowed in my self-pity for over a year. But things are starting to look up for me now.” He hummed, turning to press a kiss against your forehead. “All thanks to my—“You hesitate, not sure if you want to be the one to put a label on your relationship.

“Boyfriend.” Satoru finishes for you, making your hearts swell with joy.

“Yes, my boyfriend.”

Satoru takes one last bite of his cake before wiping the mixture of whipped cream and buttercream off with his thumb. “Mmm, I love hearing you say that. It sounds so damn pretty rolling off your tongue.” You grinned, gently gripping his hand on your own, squeezing it as you stood.

“Wanna see what else I can do with my tongue~?”

Without hesitation, your boyfriend stands up from the table, following you down the hall. “Oooh? Is the sugar kicking in?” Satoru quickly takes the lead from you, dragging you down the hall and towards the guest rooms.

“It’s not just the sugar.” You correct him. “It’s you.”

The second you step into the room, and the door is slammed shut, Satoru’s on you, cupping your face, kissing you deeply with a guttural moan. You return the kiss, tasting the sweet, tangy remains of the cake on his tongue that worked its way into your mouth. You’re moaning, pushing his jacket off, letting it fall to the ground as you start working on the buttons of his shirt.

While you do that, Satoru runs his hands down your back, searching for a zipper or buttons, only to discover an intricate series of strings. He breaks the kiss, looking down at the saliva connecting your lips before he forces you to turn around so he can start working on the corset holding you hostage. His fingers struggle with the silky strings; he’s far too excited to sit down and take the necessary time to care for this.

“Hey, sweetheart, this isn’t a rental, is it?”

”No, I wish it was; I seriously haye the sequins, Toru.” You huff out, feeling his hands gently grip both sides of the back of the dress.

”So you wouldn’t be heartbroken if anything were to happen to it?”

”No, I guess I woul—“ RIIIP!! “Oh fuck!” You tumble as Satoru uses all of his strength to rip down the back of the dress—the thin fabric pools around your feet before Satoru turns you back to face him. The second you do, he drops to his knees in front of you and kisses down your bare chest, all the way to your lace panties. “S-Satoru~”

“Mmm, I wanna show you what I can do with my tongue.” He states flatly before tugging your panties down. “I get to eat two sweet treats tonight. Your amazing cake and your delicious pussy.”

His tongue instantly slides over your clit, making you grip his hair for support in fear that you are going to buckle over. Your hand grips the soft strands of hair, winning the softest of groans from him. While your fingers run through his hair, only make him move his tongue faster, with the sole purpose of making you cum.

Unfortunately for you, even if you were willing to hold off, Satoru is just too good at what he does. He teases your clit, going between gentle flicks, suckling on it, and writing his name against it with the tip of his tongue. His antics and techniques leave you nearly falling over, wishing you were on the futon. There was something about towering over him, though, bucking your pussy against his willing mouth that gave you a certain sense of empowerment.

You could see why men would like a woman on their knees. It was fun holding all of the power to make Satoru do what you wanted, to keep his face in place with you humping his tongue. You could have cum from just thinking of riding his face like this. Doing it though, fuck, it was so hot.

Satoru thought so, too; his jaw opened wide as he flattened his tongue, allowing you to use his mouth as you saw fit. His hand gently reached around, grabbing the fat of your ass, encouraging you to move and grind faster against him, wanting for you to cum. His squeezing you had your head falling forward, strands of your kiss-messy hair falling as you came hard, rolling your hips in time with the waves crashing over you. Satoru hummed happily, lapping up the juices you kindly offered him.

“Fuck, oooh fuck Satoru.” Your knees were buckling as he gently peppered hisses down your inner thighs. “I don’t think I can walk after that.”

”Hm? Oh, don’t worry about that.” He lifted you gently, placing you down on the futon. “I have a perfect place for you to sit.” You watched in awe as your boyfriend stripped out of his clothes and slipped on a condom before standing completely naked in front of you. “Now, what do you say,” Satoru laid down, grabbing your hips and pulling you to straddle him. “We pick up where we left off this morning before your friends rudely interrupted us.”

”Mmm, I love the sound of that.” Sitting back ever so slightly, you gently grabbed his cock, easing the thick throbbing tip inside of you. “Ah~ fuck I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thick you are.” You cry out as you slowly begin to slide yourself down his shaft with a whimper.

”And I’ll never get over how tight and warm you are.” Large hands gently grip your hip, holding you as you sit down on him, his cock fully buried inside of you. “God, I can’t wait to feel how wet you are one of these days.” He hisses through his teeth as you slowly begin to rock back and forth on him. “Y-You fuck, sweetie, you feel so fucking good!”

“Yeah, so do you, Toru; I feel you getting bigger inside me.”

“And I can feel you clamping down.”

Knowing that he could feel just how good you were feeling was the only entice you needed to pick up your pace, your gentle rocks becoming a bit faster and harder as you gently began bouncing up and down on him. Your sudden increase in speed had Satoru choking on a raspy whine, his head tilting back as you placed your hands on his chest, steadying yourself. This position was one of your favorites. You were able to watch Satoru’s face contort with pleasure while his cock hit all the right places deep inside of you.

Satoru also loved this position because he got to see how relaxed you were, how he was able to grope your perfect tits, his thumbs brushing gently over your sensitive nipples. But his favorite thing about this position was being able to touch you. Not just your breasts, as great as those were. Running his large palms down your hips and over the top of your thighs, feeling your muscles twitch made happy, satisfied grunts leave his mouth. But it was when you interlace your fingers with his that got his heart pounding.

Your hips were moving faster, harder against him. Your smaller fingers held on to his for support, squeezing them gently as your tiny whines turned into desperate moans as your fucked yourself on him.

”Toru, oooh fuck~”

”Yeah, you close?” His fingers gave yours a gentle squeeze. “You gonna cum? Make me cum with you? I feel it coming back, god, I feel it; you’re going to make me cum so fucking hard.”

”Y-Yeah wanna make you cum, cum with me, Satoru, please I need it, need it so fucking bad.”

Satoru groaned, nodding his head as you slammed yourself up and down on him, his hips bucking up to meet you, fucking the tip of his cock directly into your cervix. You both are moaning so loud you know people will be calling the front desk to file a complaint, but you could care less about all of that. All that mattered right now was you and Satoru.

“Ooooh fuck me.” You cry out, releasing your boa constrictor grip on his hands, digging them into the bedding as you fall forward onto his chest. Your hips bounce up and down faster and harder, skin slapping against skin as your ass slams down. “Satoru, I’m gonna—“

”M-Me too, baby, holy fuck me too!” Satoru’s hands grip the sides of your hips, forcing you to move faster, which seems almost impossible. “Fuck, oooh fuck, fuck shit!” He’s gritting his teeth as you cry out into the side of his neck. “Oh, holy fuckin shit, baby! I’m cumming! Cumming inside you!”

With one final slam, both of your bodies go rigid as the orgasms hit you at the same time. Your pulsating walls have Satoru’s cock throbbing eagerly deep inside of you, filling the condom. Leaving both of you shaking, sweaty messes. Satoru recovers first, his hands gently caressing your sides as you lay all your weight on top of him. While you gently press open-mouthed kisses over his collarbone.

It isn’t until your muscles are protesting the position that you’re in that you finally move. Satoru helps you push off of him gently, laying you down next to his side. His fingers brush some of your hair back before he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You kiss him back burying yourself into his chest as his hands gently move up and down your back.

“So, how was our first date?” The gentle tone of Satoru’s voice has you happily humming.

“One of the best dates I ever had in my entire life.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with you on that one.” His hand continued to rub up and down your back gently. “I can’t wait to go on another and another, and god, I just want to go on countless dates with you.” He waits for you to respond, to say anything. When you don’t say a word, he peers down, finding you sleepily snuggled against him. Your hard work from the last few days has finally caught up to you. “Get some sleep.” He whispered, disposing of the condom before pulling the sheet over your body as he shut his eyes, too, following you into a deep sleep.

The next day was a blur at the inn. From packing your bags, checking out, and bidding farewell to your parents before you at Satoru took the train back to Tokyo. Where you both leaned against each other, still tired from the last week and the wedding from the night before. You only fully regain consciousness when the train pulls up to your stop. You grab your bags in silence as you slowly leave the train.

It didn’t feel real that the week was finally over. That tonight would be the first night you would be alone in a week. Part of you dreaded the night you were about to spend alone in your apartment. But you didn’t want to be clingy and ask Satoru to stay the night.

While your relationship had been entirely out of order, you didn’t want to ruin it right when it began. There would be another time for Satoru to spend the night with you. You are almost certain he would love to go home to his apartment and unwind.

So you stopped in front of the coffee shop where you met each other for the first time. Turning around, you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder, winning a slightly confused look from your new boyfriend. Swallowing hard, you hugged him tight before pulling back.

“Thank you again for everything.” You wet your bottom lip with your tongue. “I can’t thank you enough. Text me later. Maybe we could meet up for coffee or dinner sometime this week. Go on our second date.”

Satoru said nothing for a moment as you fiddled with the handle of your suitcase. “Hey.” He finally broke the silence, his hand gently grabbing yours. “Would now be too soon to take you on our second date?” Light shimmered in your eyes as Satoru put his sunglasses on. “I know this great spot for brunch.” You felt your heart swell as he rubbed at his slightly slushed neck. “I just—I don’t want to say goodbye yet.” Round sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing his breathtaking eyes. “But if you’re too tired or busy, later this week would be fine, I gue—” You reach up, pressing your index finger gently over his lips, silencing him.

“Brunch sounds great.”

“Great!” Satoru beams gently, interlocking your hands as you make your way up to the surface. “You’re going to love it.” You gently squeezed his hand as you stepped into the bustling streets of Tokyo. A week ago, you never would have thought the man you had hired to be your wedding date would be taking you out on your second date, hopefully leading to many more.

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[friarvelune]

This is how that happened, right?

(Image description: a meme template of a text conversation that has been edited. The text conversation is to somebody with the nickname "paladon't" and the initials SW. The first text received says "It is clear in the laws: no thieves are allowed in the palace sanctioned adventuring party. Sorry Fina". The response is just a pen and ink sketch of a young drow/dark elf girl, Rosie Muneshyl, with a small braid framing her face, lots of earrings, and a smile with two fangs and the tip of her tongue poking out. The next text received says "OK I will make an exception because she looks very polite". End of image description.)