#like his hand is badass and does all the hand shit

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

I need more junkrat amputee content- Like bro is missing half of his limbs and I rarely see people utalize that- I mean it cost him an arm and a leg to get those prostetics, they probabaly weren't cheap either. His nubs need to breath every once in a while

[shuosen]

gojo satoru x top! amab! reader

cw: slight degradation, hair pulling, blowjob (r), slight choking, slapping if you squint, overstim?, stomach bulge

there was a very, very thin line between lust and fear that many don’t realize they’ve traveled. they stand to wonder if the shivers that wrack their body are from desire, or terror. Gojo Satoru, is not afraid of anything. he is the strongest, he knows he is the strongest. his confidence and strength has gotten him to where he is today- where is he?

he wants to say he’s currently wooing a woman, that he’s in a fight, and of course winning, but he cant. he cant say he’s out doing badass shit- hell, he can’t say anything at all. not with your cock stuffed down his throat, pulsing veins pressing against his flat tongue that struggles to maneuver across the girth of your member.

his large, strong hands shake helplessly in the air before he lays them on his thighs, gripping the familiar texture of his uniform. his eyes twitch before shutting tight, attempting to keep the tears in his eyes from falling, because gojo satoru does not cry.

he’s struggling to keep it together and you chuckle with as much amusement as one can manage, watching him flinch when the tight hand in his hair tugs harder. he wonders if this is what fear feels like, because surely this powerful feeling dwelling in his stomach and producing full body reactions is not lust. surely he is not lusting this hard for his colleague, and his friend.

your predatory eyes glaze over as he chokes on your cock, and you grip his hair at his scalp, thrusting into his throat and you’re sure you’ve successfully made any and all thoughts flee from his mind.

“you liking this, baby? hm? does my cock in your throat feel good?”

the only response you get are gurgles and useless whines as your cock and his spit clog his mouth, and you just have to grin at your hard work, finding pride in reducing ‘the strongest’ to a whore and a hole.

“thas’ right.. hu- fuck.” you mumble, rolling your hips into his mouth, listening as he chokes and gags each time your head presses into the back of his throat. It’s sloppy, he doesn’t know how to use his mouth for this kind of thing, but his throat closes around you with every gag and every sob he lets out, and he’s making you feel good even with no experience. you just think he is so pretty like this, face all red and messy, but you’re also sure he’ll be even prettier once you stretch him out and fill him up, and you know his noises will be music to your ears when you’re finally able to fuck him, so you pull out, taking advantage of his dazed state, listening to him sputter as you slap your cockhead on his lips.

“get up.” you order, grabbing his arm and aiding him to his feet, before shoving his face into the bed you were previously sitting on, listening as he gasps a deep breath. you waste no time grabbing both of his wrists with one hand while the other yanks his pants and underwear down to his thighs. the sudden movement makes him twitch in surprise, his fingers curling into his palms, a noise between a gasp and a groan leaving his lips as you manhandle his hips, moving him to your liking freely.

“shit, wait!” gojo stumbles over his words, trying to push his hips down and away from your hands, the snap sound of the lube cap somewhat ominous to his muddled brain.

“what?” you ask, bending yourself over his back, resting your chin against his shoulder and letting go of his wrists in favor of pulling his chin up from the bedsheets. “you want me to stop?”

he freezes at the question, something akin to a sob falling from his lips, because he didnt expect you to ask that and he sure as hell doesnt have an answer. if he says no, would that be stripping him of his pride? he’s a man with much dignity and little femininity. if he say’s no, he’s allowing himself to be fucked, which means he can no longer deny the lust and the longing for you, for your cock, but if he says yes, you’ll leave him here- his own member dripping and lonely, your burning touch fading from his body- and with a broken whine, he comes to the conclusion that the former is the better choice, letting himself go slack in your hold.

“no..”

“good boy.” you grin, and he flinches at the cold temperature of the lube pouring onto his hole.

it’s been hours- gojo thinks. hours since you first began prepping him, fingers sinking into his tight hole, stretching it beyond what he thought it could be, hours since you first sank into him, hours since your cock first grazed his prostate, and hours since his descent into becoming a brain dead cock whore began.

“A-auhhg! f-fuck! fuck!” He cries, his noises so loud that they almost drown out the slap of your hips against his ass and thighs, the reddening of them just one aspect of proof of how long you’ve been rutting into him. you wanted to be slow with him, treat him nicely and slowly unfold him beneath you, but these noises, seeing your cock disappear everytime you sink in, and the way his back arches was too good to resist.

you fucked into him harshly and deeply, your red, burning cock bruising his sweet spot with every sharp piston of your hips into his sloppy hole. he’s completely given up trying to save his image, the way he cries and moans and kicks as you take him is clear of that. he no longer cares about anything but you ruining his pretty, puffy hole.

the pace of your hips is so fast, and so rough that he cant register the difference between your thrusts in and your slides out, and he cant do anything but scream, his noises a mix of words, letters, and maybe your name.

through your own groans and puffs of air, you chuckle, something that sounds demeaning to his ears and he shrivels, a loud “n-no!” echoing through the small room, but neither of you know what he’s addressing.

“what’s wrong?” you huff, adjusting your grip on his waist, and leaning forward for a new angle. “HCK- Sh- Ughk!” he chokes, stuffing his face forward into the sheets and you click your tongue, moving your hand around, and pulling him up along with you by his neck, your fingertips squeezing the sides.

“i asked you a question, toru. you too fucked out to answer me properly?”

his breathing is heavy and labored and you laugh at his pathetic state once again. “whatever,” you mumble, letting go of his neck, allowing his upper body to fall onto the bed. “jus’ means im doin’ a good job.”

you grin, pressing a hand down on his back harshly, forcing an arch as you continue to rut into his sloppy hole. gojo yelps under you, his milky thighs shaking with the effort of holding his hips up, his hands gripping onto the sheets beside his head as if they’ll run away. you’re sure he’s cum multiple times untouched now, but every man wants pleasure on his dick, and maybe it was an act of mercy, or maybe it was just your evil mind, but you reached under him, squeezing his cock in your hold, beginning to jerk him off.

at the first feathery touch of your hand, gojo screamed, jolting forward, his legs kicking upwards, desperate hands trying to push yours away from his sensitive, leaking dick as you pound into his hole and jerk him off at the same time. “s-no! shit! cant!”

“you can.” your sentence is punctuated by a slap on his ass and his whole body jumps, his shoulders shaking as he curls into himself, and he looks small.

your thumb rubs over his tip continuously, and his hips buck so harshly your forced to let go, and your hand brushes over his stomach, feeling something that makes your hips stutter, almost pausing in their ministrations.

“fuh-fuck.. ‘toru, no way.” you laugh, bringing him up so his back is flush with your chest and you peer over his shoulder, delivering one deep, harsh thrust into him, confirming the cock bulge in his defined stomach.

a groan erupts from your throat, and theres no time wasted before your pressing him into the bed with your back and your hips, fucking his hole again, but this time- your sly hands rub his stomach, before pressing down with force, right where your cock is, and gojo squeals, his voice high pitched, desperate and messy like a common street whores.

the sound tips you over, your pace slowing, and gojo, as spent as he is, breathes a sigh of relief, taking deep breathes in, before pressing his hand against your abdomen, trying to push your cock out.

“oh? we aren’t done so soon..”

please like and reblog to show your support! this is my first piece of writing, and english is my second language, so i’m a little worried about how its come out. thank you! <3

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo x wife reader request

Gojo’s wife has always been calm and collected despite any situation. She treats both the first and second years as if they were her own.When the elders call her in for a meeting about the first and second years she gets protective and reminds them why she’s called the White Snake Sorceress.

Hehe this was so fun to write, we love a strong and badass woman who takes no shit! Let me know what you think <3

Gojo's sweet wife showing her maniac side when it comes to protecting her precious students

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader; wife!reader x students

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: Despite Gojo's wife spoke vehemently against sending the first and second years on a way too difficult mission, the elders decided against her suggestion. Her calm and collected self changes drastically when she makes them regret their decicion...

Warnings: Gojo's wife being a menance to Jujutsu High elders lol, langugage, violence, Satoru Gojo enjoying every second of it, reader being like a mum, this is just pure comforting entertainment so enjoy hehe

„Hey darling, what are you up to this morning?”, your beloved husband mutters against your ear.

Shivers of comfort run down your spine immediately, you can’t help but embrace the love of your life with your arms wide open. Words can’t express how much you love Satoru Gojo, the man who stole your heart a long time ago and is now your husband. To this day you can’t put a finger on why he chose you. You, a calm and collected woman. You, who always keeps a cool head in every situation. You, who many people like Nanami describe as the complete opposite of him. But somehow you make it work. And god, how good it feels to wake up in his arms and greet him at Jujutsu High all over again.

“Oh, I was actually looking for my students. I haven’t seen any of them this morning, even though Maki usually goes for a run around this time”, you reply, face scrunched up in confusion.

You always cared for your students as if they were your own kids and Satoru can’t help but love you even more for it. The way you seem to know every minor detail about them, how you treat every single one with so much care while still teaching them hand to hand combat like none other, how they look up to you. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High that your students love you just as much as you love them – even Megumi can’t escape a small smile as soon as you enter the room.

Knowing that, Satoru needs to swallow hard. Oh, you will totally go crazy if you hear where they are…Should he even tell you? Wouldn’t it be fun to let the elders deal with you? He knows how much you can change from your calm and collected self into a maniac if it comes to your precious students.

“Well, about that…”, he mumbles, scratching the back of his head just like Megumi does when he’s uncomfortable.

Your eyes dart towards him immediately, arms crossed in front of your chest. The face your husband makes doesn’t mean anything good, that’s for sure. Just a few days ago you talked for hours with the director and the elders about a potential mission for your first and seconds years. It would have been today if you aren’t mistaken. And all of them aren’t around…Your hands clench into fists, gaze piercing through him without any mercy.

“The elders decided on carrying out the mission despite your disapproval. Out students are on the way to where the special grade was last seen.”

“Is that so, huh.”

Your eyes darken in an instant, your cute and feminine features change so drastically that Satoru himself has to blink a few times. That causes trouble. And he’s totally here for it.

“Thank you for telling me, love. I will go and have a little talk with them.”

With a last soft kiss on his cheek you move towards the main building, towards the disgusting people who risk the lives of their students like there’s no tomorrow. Anger rises up inside your veins and almost takes your sight. You explained them over and over that a special grade curse along with who knows how much other strong curses is too much for only students to handle. Especially after they had to work so much lately, after they’ve been through hell and back, they aren’t capable of doing that alone. But instead of sending your husband and yourself like you suggested, they simply ignored your advice and sent them away without letting you know.

Enough of being kind and collected. You’ll show them a side of you they haven’t seen yet.

“What are you doing here, Gojo?”, Yaga Masamichi questions when catching a glimpse of you.

His heart stops for the split of a second. The way your stone-cold eyes dart towards him, your fists hanging unpromising down your body, your straight and confident walk…

No, he has never seen you like this. What happened that made you this mad?

“Are you responsible for the first and seconds years going on that suicide mission?”

While your voice does sound as collected as usual, the look on your face and how you position yourself in front of him tell otherwise. Of course, he is aware of the fact that you care about your students as if they’re your own children, but still…

“Me along with the elders. And as a teacher of Jujutsu High you are advised to accept that decision”, he replies without thinking twice.

You nod briefly, taking in his disrespectful words. Throughout all this time you taught here at Jujutsu High, you never lost your temper once, not even on the battlefield. You were always able to keep yourself together, no matter how rough the situation was. But this, the fact that they play with the lives of your beloved students like with dolls truly tests your patience to the brink.

“Follow me to meet them.”

You know exactly where does old farts are. Sitting on their asses in the room on the end of the hallway, drinking tea while deciding on the lives of others.

“Wait, you can’t just stomp in there”, the director shouts after you.

But you couldn’t care less. With a swift motion you swing the door open, exposing them sitting down just like you imagined.

“Satoru Gojo’s wife? What are you doing here? We didn’t ask you to come”, one of them barks at you.

“You all are aware of the fact that I could kill every single one of you without even blinking, right?”

Deadly silence hangs in the air, all pairs of eyes set on you in utter disbelief.

“(y/n)”, Yaga Masamichi breathes out behind you, the words that just left your mouth being so unusual for you.

What happened to the sweetheart of woman you are, the gentle smile that’s always plastered on your face, your calm and collected character of gold?

“And still, you foolishly decided on sending my students away. Into their certain death”, you continue.

It takes all of your strength to not lunge yourself at them. Who do they think they are to play with your student’s life like that? Aren’t they aware of the psychical damage that was done to Yuji when he fought against that special grade along with Nanami only a few days ago, when Nobara and Megumi almost lost their lives if it wasn’t for Shoko?  

“I know how much you care about your students, but this is-“

“Shut up”, you hiss through gritted teeth at the man standing in the door.

“You will call my husband here and tell him to support my students within this difficult task. You will send both of us after them to make sure that no one gets hurt because all of them have been through enough horror the last weeks.”

“And what if we don’t? You are nothing but a teacher, no matter how strong you are and who your husband is”, the oldest of them interrupts you rudely.

The clicking of your heels against the ground runs shivers down their spine while you elegantly make your way towards the man with long white hair who spoke to you so foolishly. Before anyone in the room is able to react, you grab his throat and yank him upwards, head meeting the cold wall behind him.

“Then you will experience yourself why I’m called the snake sorceress. Do you know about the deadliest snake in the world? The inland taipan can send up to 230 humans 6 feet underground with a single bite. Be aware of the fact that I am able to wipe out this whole room without even blinking. Don’t ignore me when it comes to my students ever again or I’ll show you than I’m capable of more than smiling gently.”

You let go of him roughly, wiping your hands on your uniform.

“I expect your call within the next 5 minutes. And please inform my husband about your decision as well”, you announce into the room with your usual calm voice.

Without sending them a single look, you leave the room and building behind, humming to yourself while holding your face into the sun. Yes, that definitely felt good. Maybe that was enough to make them learn their lesson. You might be gentle, but you aren’t a special grade sorcerer out of nowhere.

“Look who’s there, the woman who just threatened the higher ups of Jujutsu High all on her own. Did you really choke that man?”

Your husband grins at you widely, his blindfold already taken off. You simply shrug your shoulders and smile at him.

“Apparently I was able to convince them somehow. Come on, we should get going. I hope all of them are alright…”

“With a mum like you, they’ll definitely be.”

Your head darts towards your husband warningly, hands holding onto his shoulders.

“Don’t say it like that, I’m their teacher”, you clarify.

“And you care about them as if they were your own kids.”

“Well, someone has to do this, right?”, you reply with a cheeky smile before rushing to aid your students.

Hopefully they’ll never forget the lesson you taught them today.

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[starshipsofstarlord]

nsfw alphabet

warnings. just a lot of sex discussion, like a hell of a lot

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

it would be the one moment that he held you close, taking a break from all the shit that went on around you, unless you had a quickie on a run, to which he would wipe you off hurriedly with that red rag. he’d like you to play with his hair and have your head on his chest, knowing that any time could be the last time

b = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he would definitely like his hands, since he’d be insecure and shy about the scars that covered the rest of his body. daryl would like how big they are in comparison to your own, and all the things that he could do with them (sexually and in general, i.e. like killing walkers, and hunting)

his favourite body part of yours would probably be your lips, for various reasons. it would feel like everything would be okay when you smile, especially if it’s a real and warm smile. and of course, you sent him to a whole other dimension when it was wrapped around his cock, he’d never have experience pleasure like it

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

it would always be a dirty secret of his that he wanted to cum inside you, so fucking badly. but he always referred from doing so due to the risks, and it was hard enough to survive without impregnating you, since anything could go wrong like it did with lori

and so instead he would opt for cumming on your thigh or lower stomach as he would pull out at the last second, and it would usually be your hand finishing him off

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’d love to see you looking all badass, covered in walker guts, points if you’re angry. it just did something to him that drove him wild, but he kept it to himself, knowing that he would be judged for his admittance. it made him swell with pride (and other things) that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s a fast learner, so he definitely picks up on things quickly, however i would say very little experience (since norman said he played him as though he was a virgin)

he would get so easily embarrassed when it came to anyone talking about sex. there may have been like one or two at the very most drunken hookups that he hardly remembers, but that would be all i think, at the very very most. but he would love to learn to explore your body for the first time, it would be something new and considering how long he held out, he would find every second of your intimacy worth it

f = favourite position (this goes without saying)

for daryl it would most definitely be good ol’ fashioned missionary. he would love to be close to you (and when you first started having sex, have his back facing away from you). but for quickies he would probably have you held in his arms and up against a wall, fucking you as fast as he could so the two of you could reel in the aftershocks of your orgasms

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

at the beginning it would be a little goofy since he was learning, it would feel like you’re two school kids sneaking around and trying to be quiet. daryl would get easily embarrassed if he did anything wrong and that he could improve on, but you’d just gently laugh and tell him to keep going

but after that, he’d grow more serious, and confident. he’d have the goal of making you cum over and over if you had the time for it, other than sneaking around for quickies which would be exciting and make you laugh each time your man would tense up if you heard someone

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i’d say it matches the ‘drapes’, since there’s not much time for self care in an apocalypse, and the same goes for you, unless you manage to find some disposable razors. he doesn’t care much for trying to trim, as he’s never done so before, and since you’re not fussed he uses all the energy in regards to his cock on you

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

daryl can be quite intimate, considering that sex is something special between the both of you. sure occasionally he fucks you like a madman when he’s stressed, however he always and i mean ALWAYS makes sure that you are enjoying yourself. he watches your every move, to decide how much you can take and what you’re needing. most of the time it’s not just the pleasure from screwing that he craves, but to feel close to you

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

hardly ever, unless you’re watching him or he’s preparing his cock to be sheathed inside of you. there’s not always time for sex and so there’d hardly be time for him to get himself off; however he did find himself doing it more frequently than he ever had in his life before the outbreak the moment that he met you

he needs you, and just to feel close to you, and that’s more than enough.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

one of daryl’s kinks is a size kink! not only does that man love man handling you and have his hands grasping large portions of your body at once, but he loves to use it to his advantage to tease you. if you’re lifting something particularly heavy, he will be the first to help, watching as his arms contract from the weight, and he finds amusement in the way that lust fill your eyes and how your mouth gapes open

it may not be perceived as a kink, or maybe it will, but he is addicted to you moaning his name. it shows that he is the one making you feel good,and he loves when you vocalise it

other kinks he would have would be spanking you when he’s feeling dominant (he’d only do it lightly, unless he is extra pissed off at you for whatever reason), and he occasionally if he’s feeling frisky will spit in your mouth

l = location (favourite places to do the do)

his favourite place to have sex with you would be your bedroom, away from prying eyes and walkers that could stumble across the two of you fornicating. however every once in a while he’ll take you in a truck if you’re on a supply run with just the two of you, or in your garage if he has a lot to do and is craving a distraction

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

it doesn’t take a lot, although there’s not always time for him to act on his carnal impulses. but if you’re wearing a particularly tight pair of jeans that hug your ass just right, or just a towel after showing, he will seize any opportunity that he has.

another thing that will wind his gears is if another person flirts with you, he has to make it clear that you are his, and nobody could love you like he does. it’s not him being possessive, he’d just rather everyone know that you are a taken woman, and he is the one that you’re committed to

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

the one thing daryl would never ever do is hurt you, any injury as minimal as it could be would be the difference between life and death when you’re outside the walls. a few light spanks here and there are fine, however even if you asked him to smack you around the face in a sex-induced haze, he’d look at you like you were a crazy woman

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

as much as he adores your lips around his cock, he leans towards being a giver rather than a receiver. he could get lost in eating out your pussy, and often times does; he’s like a starved man, and he loves nothing more than giving you pleasure. some people say he’s pussy whipped and he most definitely is but tasting you is one of the best things about sex and foreplay in his opinion

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it will always depend on his mood, however even when he is being slow and sensual, his pace does increase. it’s a rush when he goes faster to chase your highs, and he loves how you have trouble containing your moans and pleasure filled bellows. and it depends also on which position you are in, though it’s often missionary, if you’re on top he’ll grab at your hips, fucking up into you and controlling your movements

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

quickies happen exceedingly often, especially depending on the amount of work that you have to do. and he enjoys them, and even though he usually prefers to take his time with you, having you fold and crumble as he fucks you on a run. it makes him a little cocky that he has the ability to make you lose your mind in such a short amount of time, and he’ll always tease you after, even if you’re around other people, just to see you get all riled up for the possibility of another round

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

it will 100% depend on what the risk is, but overall he likes to keep things in a routine, sometimes switching the position. he likes exactly what you do together, so he thinks there’s no need to try much else. the one risk that repeats in his mind is cumming inside of you, it’s almost like a primal instinct, but he refrains from doing so as the outcome is enormously risky

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

so so many. at the start he was unable to last long with the feeling of being inside your pussy, but the more the two of you have sex, he is able to last a lot longer. maybe 30-40 minutes if he’s not too riled up. and he’d need to take a quick break between round but he could go like 3/4, and whilst he’s waiting to get hard again, he would either get you both some water or snack on your pussy

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

it’s not the easiest thing to get ahold of in an apocalypse, even if they’d be free considering that stores are no longer open. and it’s definitely not a priority, he is a very hands on man, and would rather make you cum himself. he thinks it’d be hot to maybe have you have a vibrator to stimulate your clit whilst his cocks inside of you, but that’s all really

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he will tease you until you beg him to fuck you. daryl loves hearing you say that you need him, and often he doesn’t have to do much, sometimes give your hip a squeeze as he passes by you and dragging his hand across your lower back, however he teases more when you’re already undressed. he will tease you until you’re pulling his hair as he blows air over your wet cunt, trying to push his head closer so that his lips make contact with where you need him most. he also likes to run his tip through your folds multiple times before he finally pushes inside of you

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he does try to stifle his moans in case anyone hears, since he knows that they’ll tease him. and he’ll moan the dirtiest things in your ear as he’s fucking you, allowing his breath to hit your neck whilst he buries his face next to your own. his groans are constant though, especially as he gets closer to cumming

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

it may not be that wild, but he loses his mind if you sit on his face. if he could choose how he died, it would definitely be with you sat on his face, so that his lips are buried against your cunt. again, he’s a giver so it’s like his own personal heaven; he just can’t get enough of you and your pussy

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he has a thick and uncut cock, and his soft bulge is visible through his trousers (iykyk) and when he’s soft he’s about 7 inches, but when he gets going and is hard, his cock grows to be around 7.5-8 inches. he was almost afraid during his first time with you that he’d hurt you, but soon he learns that it brings you such bliss (side note. he always stretches you out just right first), and his eyes roll back when you’re blowing him and choke when his tip hits past the back of your throat

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it’s a little above average, as much as he loves sex with you, there is nothing better than being married/in a relationship with you, even without the sexual pros. and he can appreciate your body in an innocent way. his drive definitely increases though when he’s stressed or has had a hard day

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

even if he’s tired after a round or few, he can’t fall asleep right away, and so he uses the time whilst he’s awake to clean you up and make sure that you’re comfortable. he also will have some pillow talk with you, where his voice is all gruff, and you’ll play with his hair. he finds it difficult to sleep in general, because all he can think about a good amount of the tune is those that didn’t make it, and he wants the quiet around you to continue until he knows that nothing is going to happen while you sleep - you are his #1 priority, and he just likes to make sure you’re safe

and sometimes the two of you will get mostly dressed and sit outside for a good 20 minutes and have a couple of cigarettes before going back to bed to finally get some rest

[lxvvie]

There's something about the way...

Price praises you. He encourages you to take the initiative even when he holds the reins. The battle-hardened bastard has seen so many amazing things in his life but nothing compares to the sight he sees as you succumb to yet another orgasm underneath him. And he'll do it again and again just to see you glow and come under his praises.

Gaz surprises you. Actions speak louder than words, and the man would much rather show you than he can tell you. And show you he does. You lost track of how many positions he's had you in and if you weren't so tired, you'd chuck a pillow at the cheeky bastard. You're pretty good, Gaz. Pretty. Good.

Soap worships you. You're like the fucking sun to him, something worth returning home to after every assignment. All the shit he's seen, you're a sight for sore eyes. Every flaw you think you have, he kisses it away. He'll always kiss it away. Your body is a sight to behold and he'll worship it every time.

Ghost excites you. He doesn't see how he does it, doesn't think he'll ever see it, but the intensity in his eyes, the purpose of every movement he makes, it excites you. The way he looks at you like he wants to devour you, the way he touches you even when it isn't sexual, god, it turns you on like no other. And even in the urgency of your lovemaking is Ghost still tender and considerate, everything he's always wanted but never had until you.

Alejandro soothes you. He knows all too well the pressures of life and leadership and would rather you be calmed by his touch than anything else. Every action, from the way his hands rove over your body to the words he whispers against your skin, blankets you like a soothing balm. You return the favor and you two find respite in each other's arms.

Rudy makes you laugh and makes you feel safe. He shows you how there can be humor even in passion. His quips are corny, yeah, but it suits him. And you'd have it no other way. Only Rudy can bring forth the deepest belly laughs from you while being buried deep inside you as well.

Phillip provokes you. He's a talented man through and through but the way he fucks brings out a primal need in you that you didn't realize existed. He fucks you like it's the last thing he'll ever do on this Earth and you respond with that same fervor every time.

Valeria captivates you. She is a woman who stares adversity and death in the eyes and tells them to go fuck themselves. Her presence can be felt even when she's not around and what she wants, she damn sure gets. This is what draws you to her, what has you yearning for more each and every time. And even in the midst of it all, when it's you two in the throes of sex is there a vulnerability that she doesn't dare show to anyone else, a side to her that's just as alluring as the badass you see and experience on a daily basis.

König embraces you. Because he himself wasn't embraced. Because he himself sought that same embrace. His frame, no matter how big, is comforting just the same. He's an interesting fellow with layers upon layers, each more surprising than the last it seems. Driven and focused on the battlefield, a nervous albeit eager and faithful mess outside of it. He more than makes up for it when he's with you and it's both a pity and blessing that no one, save you, experiences it.

Horangi tests you. The bastard lives life on the edge and it's no different when he's with you. The games he plays would infuriate anyone and you're pushed to the brink of orgasm and brought back every time. His fingers have you cursing and pleading with him to end your misery and let you cum―please, Horangi―but he doesn't relent. Not yet. He hasn't even gotten around to using his ace in the hole. Patience, baby.

[gojossocks]

New Romantics

Gojo x reader 𐙚 Genre: fluff, comedy, hurt/comfort 𐙚 Summary: You are the bane of Gojo's existence, at least that's what he tells himself. You're just full of surprises and he can't help but be fully enamored by you. 𐙚 wc: 8.5k 𐙚 content: kinda enemies to kinda lovers, a bunch of high schoolers, gojo is soo out of touch with his feelings, it's in his pov, gojo is sooo down bad, PINING, badass reader, reader is in a clan too! reader smokes ! kinda screams im not like other girls in a less toxic way, jealous! gojo, heavy make out, very self-indulgent HAHA can be read as a standalone. 𐙚 a/n: my first ever series ! it's kinda long but i swear it's fun! :D

series masterlist | prologue

Arrogant. Insufferable. Patronizing. Apathetic. 

The list goes on. 

Granted, Gojo is nowhere near close to you. You were barely friends.

If there is one person in Jujutsu High that he likes the least, it would be you. It’s not like he resents you, it’s just that you represent  everything he hated from being in a clan just like him.

From the way you strut your very expensive loafers to the way you shop to your heart’s content after every mission since your first year. Not to mention that you’re the all-perfect princess that your clan wants you to be. 

“Gojo, please pass me the p-“

“No can do, shorty.”  He chirps, giving you a shit-eating grin. 

You glared at him before motioning Shoko to hand you the pen instead. “Gojo, you know you kinda look like someone I like.”  You didn’t let him finish, crossing your arms before giving him a devilish smirk. “That cute little rat from Shrek.” 

Gojo’s eyes widened at your insult but Suguru and Shoko were already snickering at him. He despises the idea that everyone seems to adore you, except him of course.

In the eyes of the higher ups and your family, you were the sweetest girl ever. Somehow, you’re always growing horns around him. 

Everyone thinks that Gojo’s only messing with you whenever the two of you banter. Hell, there are some students gossiping that he has a crush on you (which he definitely doesn’t) But only Geto and Shoko know how much he actually dislikes you.

You seem so obedient with all your clans orders, following everything that’s asked of you, carrying the submissiveness and elegance a Y/L/N is supposed to have. And if there’s anything Gojo hated the most, it’s tradition. It’s why he’s in Jujutsu High in the first place, he wanted to change the system badly— and seeing you become the embodiment of the tradition he badly wants to change pisses him off. 

Each time the higher ups get mad at him for not being in his ‘best behavior’, your name is constantly echoed around the meeting room. ‘You should be more like Y/L/N’ ‘Bring honor to your clan like how Y/L/N does.’ 

The only act of rebellion that you do is that your hair is dyed in a way that would make the higher ups frown. Your hair is recently dyed bright orange. He finds himself scoffing at the idea that you only get scolded because of a damn hair color. Gojo’s also confused with how cunning and sassy you are when there aren’t any prying eyes. Maybe you’re just doing that to seem cool. 

Well, he just has to avoid you at all costs so you would stop annoying him and pestering his thoughts. 

Unfortunately for him, Yaga has different plans. 

“Satoru. Y/N.” Yaga announces when he was pairing up students for a mission but he doesn’t even get to finish because Gojo emits a loud dramatic groan from across the room. 

“Why?” He whined, tilting his head up to create a dramatic effect. “It’s always been Suguru and I.” 

“Satoru, you and Suguru need to be paired up with someone who's an expert in reversed curse technique. It’s your fault you haven’t learned it yet.”  

Gojo crossed his arms and pouted. “Y/N can kiss my ass, teacher.” 

“No thanks. I’m sure you don’t wash yours. I could smell you from afar, stinky.” Everyone else groaned as the two of you started another banter, forcing the meeting to be 5 minutes longer than usual— particularly because no one dares to cut off your argument (Yaga is too amused because of how much you put Gojo in his place.) 

-.-

The mission didn’t go well. It was the first time you and Gojo worked together, and judging by your huge egos, your banter caused the both of you to get injured– you more so than Gojo. He was too reckless today, attempting to get a reaction out of you, which is why he got caught off guard when a 1st grade curse attacked him.

You pushed him out of the way, causing the curse to land a hit on your shoulder and right arm. Gojo stood still in his place in shock and your right arm was already injured when he snapped out of  his trance. He obliterated the curse easily but the damage has been done. 

You’re just lucky it was a minor injury but the fact that you did that for him, considering how you two were at each other’s necks for the longest time confuses him. It disoriented him until the both of you arrived at Jujutsu High. 

When he got patched up, he stood up to apologize but you were nowhere to be found. He assumes you’ve already healed yourself due to your reverse curse technique ability but he can’t help the nagging feeling in his mind. 

You were quiet today— well, ever since this afternoon. And no he’s not keeping track, he’s just not used to not hearing your snarky remarks and sarcastic comebacks at his attempts to annoy the shit out of you.

You’re just ignoring him, giving short insults in response to his own for the most part of your mission until you shielded him from that curse. 

His guilt weighs on him heavily as he strolls around the school, waiting for Shoko and Geto. but really it’s just to see you. Gojo had noticed that you’re always gone the moment after your mission’s debriefing, sometimes even when you’re injured. 

At last, he saw you just a few blocks away from Jujutsu High, towards the new 7/11 store that opened a few months ago. Gojo tilts his head to the side and furrows his eyebrows before deciding to follow you as discreetly as he could.

He stood near a house behind the convenience store where he could be hidden by a large plant beside it. He watched you grab a few things off the shelves and talk with the cashier, who happily greets you at the counter. You must’ve been here frequently. 

1 can of coke. A box of cigarettes. Coffee. 

Gojo never took you as the type who would visit a convenience store, as shocking as that sounds. He knows you’re rich. Filthy rich. You’ve always been pampered just like him, everything down at your feet because you’re the most powerful sorcerer in your clan. 

Finally, you got out of the store. Gojo’s eyes widened like saucers when you went straight to his hiding spot. 

“You know,” You called out, putting a hand on your hip.  “It surprises me how much of an idiot you are despite being a notorious smartass. Your hair sticks out of the leaves because you’re so fucking tall, Gojo.” 

“Heh.” He rubs his nape sheepishly, offering you a shy grin. “Didn’t think you’d see me.”  

“Really?” You deadpan before walking away from him, back to Jujutsu High. He jogs up to your side. “Why are you hiding anyway? Spying on your rival or something?” 

“Maybe.” He says lightly. It’s the first time any of you are talking normally to each other without malice. “Where are you going?” 

“Somewhere.” 

“Can I come?” He insisted, voice filled with excitement, leaving no hint that he’s gonna stop following you.  A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He looks like a puppy, following you around. It’s an amusing sight, even to  you. 

“No.”  You still kept walking, paying no mind as Gojo continued to follow you.

He feels an unusual giddiness at the thought that you hadn’t outright pushed him away because if you really wanted to, you would have told him to leave. 

You lead him to the abandoned fence with the sign ‘DO NOT ENTER’ in the restricted building of the school that had remained under construction for years. It was the tallest building in Jujutsu High. You wordlessly went up to the concealed stairs at the obscured side of the building and onto the rooftop. 

You sat at the edge of the building, your feet dangling off the edge. Gojo cautiously followed your actions, opting to sit next to you. He observes you as you unravel bit by bit and it’s the first time he’s seen you this relaxed and vulnerable—something that you granted him the privilege to see.

Rummaging through your paper bag, you retrieved a can of his favorite drink, Coca-Cola. As you handed it to him, a subtle surprise flashed across his face before he muttered a sincere ‘thanks. 

You then opened your box of Marlboro red and lit up a cigarette, putting it in between your lips before taking a drag. Gojo observes you silently, his mouth agape.  It was a revelation, discovering facets of you that he never anticipated. The act of you casually smoking, the ember casting a faint glow on your features, added another layer to the enigma that you are. 

Gojo stays silent for a few  more minutes or so until you notice his confusion, mainly because his eyebrows are almost meeting and he’s staring intently into the abyss. 

“Are you broken or something? You usually never stop yapping.” You joked, bumping your shoulder to his. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Gojo says dumbfoundedly. 

You chuckled but his question was left unanswered. He forgets about it completely because his brain short circuits when you move closer to him, taking off his sunglasses and perching it atop his head. His radiant baby blue eyes are out staring at you intently.

You give him a soft smile and point at the view in front of you. “I love going here after missions, sunset’s beautiful here.” 

“you’re being nice to me. Why?” 

Again. No answer. You just hummed in amusement and no words were spoken afterwards. 

The sun begins to descend, casting a warm, golden glow over the view from below. The city sprawls out beneath the both of you and the skyline extends into the horizon, bleeding in hues of pink and orange. Both of you sit in silence and when Gojo turns to look at you, he feels his heart beat quickening every passing second.

You look so breathtaking as the remaining sunlight kisses your skin, creating a halo effect around you. He suddenly doesn’t know why his palms feel so sweaty and he can’t manage to land a punchline to make you roll your eyes playfully at him. 

“I’m sorry I got distracted. Thank you for saving me today. I didn’t know you’d be more…” He trails off and you cut him off with a laugh so pretty enough that his head whipped to turn to you. 

“Kind? Human? You think I’m just like my clan huh?” You giggled and it shocked him how light you’re taking the situation.

You must’ve gotten used to it.

Just like him.

You stayed silent for a while before speaking in a serious tone. “Just because I don’t defy my clan’s ideals freely as you do doesn’t mean I’m not against it. When you’re a woman, you have to play nice, you know? I don’t have much of a choice unlike you. I know you don’t like me but I shielded you because you’re my friend.”

It was a wonder for Gojo that he’s the only one you’re not on good terms with out of everyone in Jujutsu High. Hell, he even overheard Yaga asking you to call back those Kyoto Students. It’s a big deal because those pesky Kyoto Students are usually their rivals but for some reason they’re always looking for you.

Then comes the Tokyo students, whom he never sees not greeting you or asking to hang out with you. Come to think of it, their expressions are always brightening up whenever you’re around and he thought that maybe they’re not that welcoming to him because he’s loud. But it’s you. It’s all you. 

From the way you listen intently to your friends, and your saccharine voice asking them about their day or whatever that piques their interest. You care, a lot. You even saved him from that grade 1 curse, resulting in a painful wound on your shoulder. Granted, you had the ability to heal yourself but who was he even in your life? and yet you took the fall for him. 

Gojo always hated that everyone seemed to look at him as that ‘six-eyed kid from the Gojo clan’. He hated the rumors about him just because of your last name— something that he has done to you since the first time you stepped foot into the school. 

He swallows his guilt and sets his pride aside. He wanted nothing more than to make it up to you.  “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve read you wrong. I thought you were just like the rest of them.”  

“It’s alright.” You say nonchalantly as possible but the voice crack at the end gives you away. Gojo chooses to ignore that. This probably means a lot to you as much as it did to him. “I mean I get it, I actually admire your passion for changing the way our clans lead the Jujutsu World. I think you have the guts for standing up to them just like that.”

“You really think so?’ He scoots closer and gives you a small smile, his heartbeat quickening faster as he feels your warmth— your thighs almost touching. 

“Yeah.” You grinned back, leaning your wait to his side before taking a sip from your coffee. 

“So you think I’m pretty?” He looks at you and bats his eyelashes comedically.

You snorted in response and slapped his arm lightly.  “I’ll throw you off this building.” 

Gojo forgot the passage of time in those 4 hours at that rooftop. The sun had already set and the moon was gleaming, already dark out. He likes talking to you but he enjoys it more when you’re the one doing the talking. 

You talked about your school life, hobbies, even your life with your clan– anything that comes to mind. Talking to you is as easy as breathing. You’re just full of wisdom, kindness, and wit.

Gojo found out today that he actually likes making you laugh, something about it makes his stomach feel funny. He also found out your preferences in coffee, food, and even music. 

“Don’t you dare tell that spot to anyone, Gojo.” You took one of the sweets in his hands and popped it in your mouth before giving him a teasing grin.

You’re now walking side by side on the way to the dormitory. He insisted on walking you to your dorm even if his dorm is from the other side of the building. 

A chuckle escaped his lips as he matched your stride. “Yes, Ma’am.”  He replied with a teasing voice, earning a hum of approval from you. You finally stopped in front of your door. 

“Thank you Goj-” 

“Satoru.” He cut you off,  his voice suddenly softening. As you tilted your head inquisitively, he found himself breaking into another warm smile.  His cheeks ached from smiling too much this evening. “You can call me Satoru instead.” 

“I like saying Gojo, especially when I yell your name when I’m mad at you.” 

“Are you mad at me right now?” He wiggles his eyebrows, earning a playful roll of your eyes in response. 

“No.” 

His demeanor shifted then, almost like he’s surrendering his vulnerability to you. “Then call me Satoru.” You could almost hear the plea in his voice. 

You sigh in mock defeat, your lips curved into a smile as you relented to his request. “Okay, Satoru.”

-.-

“You’re barely hanging out with me anymore, Satoru. Have you found my replacement already?” Suguru says, smirking as he watches his best friend’s eyes widened— a blush adorning Satoru's cheeks.

Satoru fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, causing Suguru to smirk at him. This behavior definitely did not go unnoticed by his best friend. Rarely did Satoru ever get nervous and Suguru was all for it. 

“I was just busy, Suguru. You missed me that much? I didn’t know I am participating in a homosexual relationship with you—”  He retorted, attempting to deflect Suguru. 

But Suguru wasn’t one to let him off the hook easily. “Busy hogging Y/N?” 

Satoru scoffed, giving him a look of disbelief. “Pffft. Nah. Of course not. We’re friends!” He insisted, though the way his gaze momentarily flickered away betrayed a hint of something more.  

It has been nearly 6 months since that evening on the rooftop. Satoru and you have been attached to the hip ever since— or to phrase it better, Satoru has been attached to you ever since. Somehow, you’re a lot more similar than he thinks and because of that, you just know each other a lot deeper.

He also finds himself doing things out of pure interest like walking with you to the 7/11 store after mission just to talk to you til dusk on that rooftop, completely forgetting about his friend group’s game nights. Other times, he reaches for your wrist to encourage you to mingle with other people. He even accompanies you to your monthly shopping sprees in the city or in Shinjuku or Shibuya. He found out you love traveling and going to other places— it clears your mind, you had said. His closet is now full of clothes you helped him pick out, almost half of them you bought for him randomly. 

It’s normal for friends to do that, right? 

Seated side by side, Satoru and Suguru observed how you and Shoko practiced your reverse cursed technique. Satoru’s just munching on the sweets you bought for him while his best friend is clearly enjoying the view of how dumbstruck he is by you. 

“Satoru,” he began. “You’re always following her around, it’s like you’re glued to each other already and you even fell asleep together during movie nights more than 3 times already. The only time you’re not with her is when you’re on missions with me or lunch. Are you already secretly dating?” 

“Yeah, we’re not!” Satoru says swiftly and defensively, causing Suguru to raise an eyebrow at him. “Why are you keeping count anyway?” 

 “Sure, just friends.” Suguru insisted, attempting to downplay the whole situation but Satoru is already growing agitated with the way he’s being teased.  Suguru gave him a devilish smirk.  “What if she dates another guy?” 

Satoru shuts up for a minute before muttering a quiet  “… She won’t.” 

“You don’t sound sure. She eventually will.” Suguru gave him an all-knowing smile and that’s when he knew that Suguru was being serious. 

“Huh?”  Satoru furrowed his eyebrows, casting an accusing look at his best friend.  “How are you so sure?” 

“Shoko said she’s going on dates.” 

Oh. 

So that’s why he’s been seeing you less, and you seem so distracted whenever you guys would hang out. Satoru thought that you were just busy but he didn’t think you’d actually go on dates with anyone. I mean, you’re still young right? Besides, who would be deserving of you?

Satoru didn’t notice that he was staring daggers into Shoko as you hugged her tightly. His expression darkened, jealousy flashing in his eyes before softening as he heard you laugh. 

Pretty. 

You look so pretty. 

Since when did he find you incredibly pretty?

Sure, you were just friends but he doesn’t know why he has this urge to be with you all the time, he even wants to hug you like how you hug Shoko and Utahime. It’s just unfair that you only lean to him or give him a fist bump or when you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He longs to hold you close, to see you every morning, and to be the person that makes you laugh all the time.  

And when you noticed him staring you beamed at him and waved. 

Oh, he definitely has a crush on his friend. 

He didn’t know how much time passed but soon enough his day wouldn’t be completed without seeing you. He actually looks forward now to the meeting with different plans, particularly because you were there with him. And he basically lives now in your dorm room, candy wrappers everywhere and an array of his glasses sit beside your bedside table.

You talk about anything, even the random thoughts that come to his mind. You managed to know him better than Suguru knows him, which is surprising by the way. 

But during the past week, he surprisingly didn’t see you— not even at the rooftop that you both had grown to hang out together. Suguru told him that he acts like he has a ‘stick up his ass’ but he was just worried about you. Have you grown tired of him? It all made him fidget like crazy. 

Satoru caught a glimpse of your bright blue hair after your mission with Suguru. It was the kind of blue that matches his eyes. But he didn’t pay attention to it that much because of your sullen look.

He tried looking for you at the convenience store or your dorm but you were already gone so his last bet is at the rooftop, and there you are.

Your back is facing him with your feet dangling off the edge, you seem to be in your own world judging by the loud music he’s hearing. There are two packs of cigarettes by your side and a can of your favorite coffee. The sun is almost setting again and you’re just staring ahead while you hum along to the song you're listening to. The view seems so… sad. He felt something tug at his heart strings. 

“You know you should quit smoking. if you keep it, you’ll never see me old handsome.”  He tried to joke off before climbing the edge to sit next to you. He took off his glasses before wincing at the view, it was too bright so he decided to put it on again. 

You giggled in response,  he can tell that you saw right through him when you had a soft look in your face.  The both of you hadn’t quite reached the stage where you’re entirely comfortable with opening up to one another.

So he tried to lighten up the mood once more, “It actually diminishes your ability as a sorcerer.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says yoda” He responded rhetorically before giving you a lopsided grin.  

You nodded before taking out your lighter to light up your cigarette.   “I only smoke when I’m stressed.” You confessed.

“Oh?” Satoru asks 

“Yeah” You smiled at him, taking a drag from your cigarette, sighing when the nicotine hit your system. 

“Then we’ll do something else, yeah?” He grinned at you mischievously before pointing his index. “Wait.” 

With a quick rummage through his pockets, he brought out a handful of brightly colored lollipops, their wrappers crinkling softly in his hand. 

“What do you have in mind?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. 

Satoru extended his hand, offering you a lollipop with a playful wink. “Something sweeter?” 

He gives you a toothy grin—his eyes sparkling when you take it, shaking your head at his enthusiasm.

“This is ridiculous,” You laughed, amused by his antics as you unwrapped the sweet treat and popped it into your mouth. 

“It works, right?” Satoru asked eagerly. 

He’s been searching for alternative ways for nicotine but he couldn’t find any gum in the 7/11 store. Lollipops are his last choice. 

“I don’t know. Isn’t it gum that lessens the nic addiction?”  You countered, bumping your shoulder against his. 

“Lollipops are an alternative,” He says defensively, though a hint of concern crept up to his face.  “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, uhm. It just gets tiring sometimes, you know?” You responded, bitterness lacing your voice. “ All the pressure. Sometimes I feel like I’m not treated humanely at one point.” 

“Hey. I’ll help you okay?” He placed a hand on your shoulder before offering you a soft smile. “When you’re with me, you don’t have to please those old geezers.” 

“I appreciate it, Satoru.” You smiled back at him and he found himself melting in your gaze. The sun be damned, he could live alone in your presence.

You decided to leave when it’s already half past eight. Once he helped you to his feet you looked at him shyly, and if it’s a bit lighter out he would see a blush creeping up to your face. The walk back to your dorm is silent again, your hands just occasionally brush and Satoru wondered if you think about holding his hand too. 

So when you let him in your dorm like you usually do. Satoru hesitated for a moment before he mustered up the courage and asked, “Is it okay if I hug you?” 

He noticed you freeze and he feared that he might have overstepped, but before he could retract his words, you’re already nodding and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. Satoru hears you sigh in the hug and he feels like he’s floating when you tug him closer.

Satoru prayed silently that you couldn’t hear the loud thumping of his heart because he finally has you in his arms and this is all he wanted. The warmth of your body against his, the way you leaned into his touch, it all felt surreal to him. 

You’ve finally let your guard down around him and he noticed you gradually open up to him when you’re feeling sad or disappointed with something. Somehow he can’t bring himself to be like that to you yet, Satoru has this underlying feeling that you’d like him less if he starts showing vulnerability. 

But to his surprise, he feels like you like him more because of that. There was this instance where he’s so overstimulated after a mission because he had to take off his glasses to work on his six eyes. He started to become dizzy and everything around him was a blur.

As he sat on the couch, feeling utterly overwhelmed and disoriented after the mission. Despite his attempts to mask his discomfort with a feeble smile, you saw right through him, as you always seemed to do.

“Satoru, are you okay?” Your voice cut through the haze of his senses, casting him a worried glance.

He managed a strained smile before the brightness around him intensified, sending a sharp pang through his temples. "I'm...I'm fine," he mumbled.

“Satoru, you’re not a good liar.” You stood up to turn off the lights, only leaving the night lamp on, a soft glow illuminating the entire room, making it bearable for Satoru. He’s rubbing his temples, trying to ease the pain. 

He feels a weight dip in the couch, you gently remove his glasses and place them on the nearby table. Then, without warning, your arms enveloped him in a warm embrace, guiding his head to rest against the crook of your neck, fully covering his eyes.

Now that he’s calmed down, Satoru became acutely aware of the closeness between you. He’s lucky that you can’t see how his eyes widened at your action and how flushed he probably looks right now. Well, not that he can see anything right now. 

But he chooses to ignore the loud beating of his heart again, passing it off as adrenaline rush from the mission. He allows himself to relax in your hold, with your fingers threading softly through his hair, all his worries and fatigue melted away. 

Gojo Satoru had never known romantic love, let alone had a crush on anyone. So maybe it was just normal for friends to hold each other when one is tired or in need of comfort.

He loves to play with your hand when both of you are alone, while he babbles about something random and outright weird just so he could ignore how you make him feel. He tries to ignore the blush creeping up on his face when you listen to him intently, like every word that he utters matters, no matter how ridiculous it was. His feet always drag him to you because after a long day, all he needs is cuddles from you— oh, and your soothing voice too.  

So really, what is this weight on his chest when Shoko announced that you’re going on a date? 

Why is he pouting suddenly, assaulting his food as he stabs it continuously while you are gushing about what to wear or what to say when he knows you just look so beautiful even without trying?

Isn’t he enough?

Satoru buys you stuff, he takes care of you, he knows everything about you. He’s always hanging at your dorm after school, you’re practically like a couple at this poi–

Shit. 

Maybe he does have a crush on you. 

“I don’t know why you’d bother going on a date, Y/N. Guys are basically disgusting.” 

“Says a guy.” You rolled your eyes playfully while going through your closet. 

Satoru’s getting desperate now, why are you so adamant to get on that date? 

Satoru felt a knot of desperation tightening in his chest as he watched you model your top three dresses.  The first dress, adorned with vibrant florals, seemed to scream "first date" with its playful charm. However, you quickly dismissed it as unsuitable for the dinner date you had planned. Next, you slipped into a simple yet elegant black bodycon dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was hard to ignore the bitterness he’s feeling— you getting dolled up for a random guy. 

But it was the final dress that truly captured his heart. As you twirled around to show him, the white silk fabric cascading gracefully around you, Satoru found himself momentarily breathless at the sight. Your awkward smile only added to the enchantment of the moment. You look so ethereal. 

"What do you think?" you asked, swaying gently as you admired yourself in the mirror.

"I—" Satoru cleared his throat, his voice suddenly dry as he struggled to find the right words. "I think I like the other one better, the black one," he managed to say, though his heart whispered otherwise.

You somehow listened to his advice and wore the black bodycon dress that he suggested.

You looked nothing short of breathtaking, a literal goddess. 

It was the longest 3 hours of his life, each passing minute feeling like an eternity as he anxiously wait for your return. Despite his best effort to distract himself by distracting Suguru, his thoughts kept returninhg to you— wondering if you’re having the time of your life with your date. 

A small part of him wishes that the date didn’t go well and you’ll just spent the rest of the evening eating sweets with him all the while casting funny remarks on your date but he wasn’t prepared when you came home with mascara running down your face, your lips curved into a pout, and your eyes puffy and red from crying. 

Without a word, Satoru stood up to engulf you in his arms, furrowing his eyebrows as you collapsed into him.  “What happened, Y/N?” 

He held you close, a surge of protectiveness flooding his senses as if an attempt to shield you from the world.

“He’s a misogynist, Satoru!” You cried, your voice cracking. “So full of himself! I thought he was kind and sweet but then he just started babbling about his clan and how good of a potential husband he is. As if I want to marry him!” 

“Who was he anyway?”  He gently wiped away your tears. 

“Naoya Zenin” You sniffled, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I’m staining your shirt.” 

“No, no.” He whispered, brushing away the strands of your hair on your face. 

He took a mental note to research on the guy that made you cry later on. He realizes that the sight that he despises the most is the sight of you crying. He never wants to see you like this, ever. 

“You said you like the beach right?” Satoru spoke out of the blue, his hand tracing circles on your arm. “Why don’t we go to one?” 

-.-

And that’s how Satoru managed to spend all of his monthly allowance in a week. He booked a flight for the 6 of you (of course he wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea, he insisted it’s a vacation for the six of you— him, you, Suguru, Shoko, and even Utahime and Mei Mei because apparently you’re good friends with them too) 

So now here he is, about 200, 000 yen poorer. (help i don’t know if this is accurate) He wanted what’s best for you, so of course he’d spend a lot for you.  It was all worth it though, when he sees you in a baby blue bathing suit that he helped you pick out. No it was definitely not because it’s similar to the color of his eyes. Blue just suits you well. (Hence, he’s also suitable for you) 

“Satoru, you're going to catch flies if your mouth keeps hanging like that. Hey, are you also drooling?” Suguru pokes Satoru, who quickly straightens up when you look his way.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and he didn’t know what the fuck you’re doing to him because he feels a hard on coming his way.  Shoko notices Satoru’s flushed expression but she just continues to smoke, clearly enjoying the show. 

Eventually, everyone agrees to swim in the beach and try on the jet skis that Satoru had rented. What he didn’t know though, was the fact that you’re afraid of the ocean.

You were just hugging yourself while the waves crashed against your feet. The sight looks so cute but he wants you to enjoy it, so he uses his tactics to get you to join the group.

Unfortunately for him, you’re so stubborn to stay on the shore. 

“I don’t want to go, Satoru! It’s not funny! I might get eaten alive by megalodon sharks or something.” 

“C’mon! I’m really tall, I can protect you! Jesus, here—”  His hand intertwined with yours, causing you to blush profusely. “Just hold my hand, okay?  Hell, hold onto me if you like. I can carry you!”

“Your hands are uhm, really warm.” You commented, your voice tinged with embrassment. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirks at you, his gaze locking with yours. “You want me to warm you up?” 

“I’m gonna kill you.”  You deadpanned. 

Despite your protests, you ended up trusting him to pull you in the deeper part of the ocean. He even managed to get you to ride the jetski with him, the grip you had on his waist nearly suffocating him.

Satoru didn’t want to focus on the closeness between you two— your body pressed up against his back. If he does, he might lose control and drop the both of you into the ocean. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the group is observing the two of you while sipping on their Margaritas.

“God, these two.” Mei Mei muttered as she rolls her eyes. “Best slow burn romance I’ve ever seen for free.”

If anyone would glance at you and Satoru, they would immediately think you’re dating, but you’re not and it’s frustrating to anyone within your radius. 

Besides her, Shoko chimed in, her voice laced with amusement.   “It’s so painfully obvious that they like each other. They were comparing hand sizes earlier for god’s sake.” 

“Yeah, they should just fuck already.” 

-.-

“Okay, so you kiss the person the bottle’s pointing at.” Utahime explained excitedly, albeit a bit drunk.

Everyone’s gathering around the crackling bonfire bonfire, the warm glow casting dancing shadows across the sand.  It was now nearing midnight and you decided to play a game to end the night, which is spin the bottle. You spent all afternoon swimming and riding the jet skis Satoru rented. 

Satoru felt a bead of sweat form on his brow as the bottle nearly lands you and Suguru.

He wanted your first kiss to be with him, as selfish as that sounds. He internally cursed Shoko for suggesting this game. 

It landed on Shoko and Utahime, then Shoko and Suguru, then Mei Mei and Utahime. 

His nervousness escalated as the game continues. Satoru was busy praying that the bottle wouldn’t land on you and anyone that he failed to notice when the bottle finally came to a stop, pointing directly at you and him. 

“Ooooh” Utahime teased you, playfully poking your arm. “It’s you and Gojo!” 

You laughed nervously, shooting a helpless glance in Satoru’s direction. He wanted to protest but his curiosity outweighed his embarrassment. 

He wanted to know how it feels like to kiss you. 

Besides, it’s just a kiss, right? 

Satoru was stunned when you hurriedly pecked him on the lips before you retreated back to your seat. His mind raced as he tries to process the fleeting touch.

He just kissed you. 

He couldn’t believe it when you looked back at him with a subtle smile playing in your lips.  

The rest of the night was a blur for him, not because he was drunk. Satoru’s a lightweight and you know that fact, that’s why you were drinking for him.

While everyone else is playing games and talking about anything, his mind is still stuck on the fact that you kissed him

You’re his first kiss.

And he's yours too,

The gods had answered his prayers.  But that was barely a kiss in the first place, do you even want it or were you just pressured to do it?

The thought stings. So he took a couple of sips from Suguru’s beer bottle until he was tipsy enough to not think about your lips on his. Yet, with each glance in your direction, the memory of your lips on his persisted. 

-.- 

Satoru helped you go to your room, even if he’s a bit drunk himself.  Both of you were stumbling on the way to your room, but he thankfully he managed to settle you down on the bed as gently as he could. His attempt to withdraw was no use as you pulled him down with you, your grip firm yet gentle as you clutched his hand in your sleep. 

Satoru admired your sleeping state, your hair sprawled out messily on the bed and you’re gripping his hand.

Your mouth slightly open as you slept, emitting soft rhythmic breaths but then you started mumbling something—it first it was incoherent until you mumbled in a slur,  “I think you’re cute.” 

“Huh?” Satoru questioned, even though he heard you clearly. He just want to hear it again from you. 

“I said I think you look like a sack of shit. Fuck you.”  You clarified, your words still slightly intelligible and laced with frustration and humor. 

“Uh-huh.” He replied, feigning ignorance, his heart fluttering at your words. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Satoru brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering momentarily against your skin. 

“You know,” You started, your words slurring as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my first kiss. It was really good even if it just lasted a second. Thank you for today, toru.” 

He laughed at your intoxicated state. You just look so adorable when you’re relaxed like this, the way your features softened and your laughter bubble up freely without a care in the world.

His gaze drifted to your lips, they seemed to beckon him to give in.  He definitely wants to kiss you now. 

Satoru’s heart raced as he struggled to fight the urge to lean in, knowing that it was a dangerous game to play. You decided to take matters in your own hands, shifting closer to him, your face close enough that he could feel you breathe against him. 

“Please, ‘Toru.” You whispered, your lips barely touching. “Please kiss me again.” 

Who was he to deny you that? To deny you? 

When Satoru kissed you for the second time, he took his time to savor it. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek and brushes his lips against yours. 

Your lips are warm and soft, he wanted to kiss it for eternity. Literally. He feels like in cloud nine as he kisses you deeper, slipping his tongue inside as you parted your lips, earning a soft moan from you.

Satoru weight settled against you, your bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as he connected his lips against yours once more. 

You taste better than any candy he has ever tasted. He might just get addicted, drunk even. 

“We shouldn’t—” He sighs into your mouth. You whimpered when he pulled away, your sweet voice going straight through his dick. “I don’t want to do this like this.” 

“What” a kiss. “Do” followed by another, “You,” then another “Mean?” then another.

You were peppering kisses all over his face all the while carding your hand through his hair, tugging it a bit to earn a reaction from him. He almost lost it when you squeezed him through his boxers. 

Satoru managed to pull away which he clearly struggled on doing when you pout at him, lips swollen and covered with saliva and you’re looking at him with those damned doe eyes. 

He pecks your lips, both of your cheeks, and he places a final kiss on your forehead, afraid that if he does more, he won’t be able to contain himself.

Satoru wants his first time with you to be special, one that’s not hazy and easy to forget. He doesn’t want it to be a mistake, like what he knows the both of you would agree upon if you talked about it in the morning.

He wanted you to remember, have it engraved in your mind and body for weeks. Satoru wants you to want him as much as he wants you, and he can’t have that in a drunken mistake. 

As you both drifted together in your sleep, he held you close, his arms wrapping snugly around your waist. It was the best sleep he had in ages. 

-.-

Satoru’s fear came true when you pretended like nothing happened the next morning. When he awoke, it feels like last night never happened. Your side of the bed is fixed and the only proof that you were ver there was the ache he felt on his arm, where you were laying.  Sure, he was disappointed but he’s contented with anything you give him. As long as he has you by his side. 

The kiss never left his mind, though.

Not even when you reached third year and you drifted apart from him little by little. His feelings for you remains the same. 

When Satoru is paired up again with you for a mission in the second half of your third year, you seem different from the Y/N he remembers. Particularly because you act like the exact person that he met in your first year.

Only, you look dull.

There are heavy circles under your eyes, your lips are chapped, and you look like you’re barely holding it together. Not to mention the only words that you utter to him are only about the mission. 

He got too busy honing his skills with Suguru, but he would make time for you if only you asked. But it’s like you were gone, everytime he tried to look for you, you were nowhere to be found. It’s like he barely knows you anymore.

You started to ignore him at the beginning of the school year. He noticed that you dyed your hair back to its natural color and whenever he goes.

You became a ghost in a way, and he’s left with the pieces of you that you once had shared with him. Satoru desperately wants to reach you but how can he when you’re always away? He doesn’t see you in your meeting spot anymore, you’re not in your dorm, no one gets close to you. The only time he sees you is during meetings with the higher ups and your clan. 

There’s an ache in his heart that only you can heal. 

So before you can run away from him again, he followed your footsteps until you reached the 7/11 store across the street. So here you are scanning along the shelves of the store, even though he knows you already know what you’re going to buy.  You still haven’t noticed him, which is confusing on his part. You must’ve been so tired. 

Ah, an energy drink and a box of cigarettes. 

Well, maybe you’ve started avoiding him too because of that. You know he’s going to get worried. 

Satoru taps your shoulder, making you yelp. You were about to shout at him but your expression softened when you saw him. “Oh, it’s just you.” 

It’s the first time in months where he actually saw you up close. He misses you so much it actually makes him dizzy.  Satoru stares at you for a few minutes before you poked him. 

“Hello? Earth to Satoru?”

He hasn’t heard you say his name too in a while. It felt like a breath of fresh air 

“You dyed your hair back to its natural color.” He pointed out. 

You hummed in response before going to the drink section once more. He observes you skimming the shelves even though he knows what you’re going to buy.

You’re just passing the time because you’re too anxious to talk to him but you aren’t really good at small talks.   

So he does that for you.

As you mechanically scanned the shelves, your eyes not really registering the array of products before you, Satoru noticed the evident anxiety in your every move. Wanting to bridge the gap between you two, he seized the opportunity to make you smile. 

“ah yes, there’s some items on sale here.” He declared, rubbing his chin with his pointer and thumb comically. 

Your quizzical expression met his as you questioned, “I don’t see any.” 

Undeterred, Satoru held up a familiar item – your favorite coffee – and flashed a grin "Here," he insisted, pointing at the non-existent 'sale' label.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "It's on sale. Look. It says, 'buy one take me.'" He gestured to the imaginary tag with a theatrical flair, his infectious grin inviting you to roll your eyes at him. 

Finally, you gave him a smile and you threw your head back because you’re laughing so hard. “You’re ridiculous, Gojo Satoru.” 

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your smile, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of your genuine laughter. He likes seeing you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Even if it’s making a fool out of himself.

You grabbed his favorite drink and 2 onigiris then you dropped your energy drink. You walked towards the counter with him following closely behind.

After you’ve paid for the food, you led him wordlessly to the back of the convenience store towards the small parking lot and you sat on the ground. 

“Besides, I can’t take you.”  You broke the silence, handing him his coca-cola with a tremulous smile. 

“What do you mean? You’ve already taken me for granted.”  Satoru attempts to joke, but his playful expression dropped when you gave him a sad smile. 

“I’m getting married next year after graduation.” 

Satoru suddenly felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath him. The news struck him like a blow to the chest, leaving him breathless. He chewed on his lip as he took in your confession.

So that’s why you’ve been busy.

That’s why the higher ups paid no mind to all of his minor mishaps. His heart and mind raced, why so soon? Are you really going to let them take away your right to decide who you’ll marry? 

“To who?”  He said quietly, fidgeting with the lid of his soda. 

“Naoya Zenin.” 

A wave of disbelief washed over Satoru’s face. He had only met the guy once but he knows that Zenin is an absolute prick, not to mention a misogynist and a weakling. He even made you cry on a date. But he tried to relax his jaw and stay composed for you. “Do you want to marry him?”

“No.” Your answer was swift, the word laden with a weight he could feel in his bones. 

“Then don’t.” Satoru says firmly. Both of you fell silent for a while, you being defeated with the destiny your clan have paved for you.  

Could he really let you go just like that? To a Zenin asshat nonetheless?

He had always imagined that the two of you would eventually end up together, you have all the time in the world after all. So why does it feel like you’re already slipping out of his arms?  He’s not even sure if you like him, despite what Suguru and Ieri keep telling him. 

His train of thoughts were interrupted when you leaned your head on his shoulder. His arm instinctively finds its way around you, as if shielding you from your clan, from the world.  “I wish it were that simple. Nearly everything I do for my family is never what I want. I simply can’t not do it, Satoru. I need it to keep my clan powerful and relevant. I’m the only daughter of my parents. I have to do my best to make them proud.” 

“Well…” He stammers a little bit when your hand finds a way to play with his hair.  “what about what you want?” 

“Satoru, you know my freedom is limited." You laughed bitterly. “I’m still Y/L/N’s golden child and my clan’s on the brink of exclusion at this point. We’re irrelevant now and I’m not getting any stronger or richer. My family wants to take their place in the Jujutsu World. This is something I can’t escape from anymore even if I’d rather die than to be married to someone like him.” 

“Why Naoya Zenin though?” He’s getting frustrated at this point. Why were you not fighting back? Satoru couldn’t accept that, you relinquishing your freedom for the sake of others. You have already done so much. 

“He’s from a well-off clan and he’s strong.” you replied, a note of bitterness tainting your words. “My dad’s also biased with the Zenin clan so… I’m all set.” 

Well, he’s a Gojo and he is the strongest.  He is the inheritor of the six eyes anyway. Who is Naoya Zenin compared to him?  

“Well then, can you marry someone else that’s also strong?”

You scoffed, your hand leaving his hair before you prompt to fully lean your entire weight on Satoru’s side. “Yeah, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Who else would I mar-” 

It’s now or never. 

“Me.”  Satoru blurted out. 

“What?” 

“Me. you should just marry me instead.” 

Wanna read more?

[stevethehairington]

Eddie doesn’t tell the Corroded Coffin guys about his relationship with Steve. Not at first.

He knows they wouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s got a boyfriend; they’re cool like that. But telling them who his boyfriend is? They're cool enough to accept Eddie being gay, but dating a jock? Dating Steve Harrington? Eddie isn’t so sure how they’d react to that. 

So he keeps that little detail to himself.

Not too carefully, though, as it turns out.

Eddie shows up to Wednesday band practice with a new ring on. It’s big, just like most of his rings are, but it’s a whole different breed of gaudy, with a huge emerald gem right in the center and thick lettering circling it and embossed onto the sides.

Gareth is the first one to clock it for what it is.

They finished up their first run through of their latest track (something new about a totally badass warrior who's beaten and battered and bruised, but won't let that stop him from throwing himself intro the fray) that Eddie just finished penning the lyrics for, then broke for a quick break and some water. Eddie stands across from Gareth, right hand wrapped around a water bottle, new ring on display. Gareth is close enough that he can make out some of the smaller details now — a paw print, the word ‘Hawkins’ right above it — and then it clicks.

“Dude,” he says, smacking his hand into Eddie’s arm. “You got a class ring? Since fucking when?”

Eddie’s face seems to go through several emotions all at once — confusion, surprise, a brief flicker of panic. It smooths over pretty fast after that, settling into something much more controlled, something much more collected after.

He switches the bottle to his left hand and flattens his right in the air, admiring the ring for a moment. “Oh, this?” Eddie asks with a chuckle, flashing it towards Gareth and the boys (who have all perked up in interest and shuffled closer), too fast for any of them to really get a good look at it.

“Holy shit, that is a class ring, what the fuck, Eddie?” Archie asks, face twisting up.

Jeff looks surprised too, squinting at Eddie’s hand, curiosity painted across his features.

Eddie doesn’t deign any of them with an answer, just sort of shrugs and drops the water bottle, replacing it with his guitar. He twists at the tuning keys on the head of his baby, ignoring it as Gareth and Archie erupt into a flurried back and forth of reasons why in the hell Eddie would be wearing one of those monstrosities.

Jeff is the only one to jump to his defense. “It’s weird, sure, but, like, is it really that bad? I mean, he spent six years there, so what if he wants to, like, commemorate it or something?”

Gareth and Archie turn twin what the fuck looks on Jeff, who just shrugs.

He doesn’t look too convinced of his own argument either — which is pretty merited. Eddie getting a class ring goes against, like, everything he stands for. He’s pretty sure he’s ranted about how stupid class rings are. How pointless they are. Plus, those suckers are expensive as fuck and Eddie has plenty of other, more important things to put that money towards. All things considered, they have every reason to be suspicious of it.

They all turn back towards Eddie, looking for confirmation or contradiction, but Eddie doesn’t offer them either.

He just gives the ring another short look, shrugs, and says, “So are we gonna get back to playing or what?”

And that’s that.

Except it isn’t.

Because at some point Eddie must have been playing with the ring, and he must have slipped it off, must have spun it around, must have stuck it back on his finger with the other side exposed. The side with the “1985” on full display. Big and bold and hard to miss.

And, of course, they notice that.

“Does that say ‘1985’?” Gareth asks, eyebrows pulled together and mouth curved down into a confused frown.

“‘85? Eddie, dude, isn’t that the year that you were supposed to graduate the first time?” Archie asks, just as baffled.

Jeff elbows him. “No, that was ‘84,” he corrects. “But he didn’t graduate in ‘85 either.”

“So why the fuck do you have a class of 1985 ring then?” Gareth questions. It’s hard for him to look menacing with that floppy hair of his, but he crosses his arms over his chest and fixes demanding eyes on Eddie anyways.

Eddie, once again, does not answer any questions. In fact, the only acknowledgement he does give them is a very casual, very nonplussed “Oh? Does it?” when they keep pointing out that the ring boasts “1985” instead of “1986”.

It’s pretty amusing, actually, listening to them trying to figure it out. But none of them come close to the truth. And Eddie certainly isn’t going to be the one to hand that over to them.

It goes on like this for a few more practices. The mystery of who Eddie’s class ring actually belongs to (because the boys have decided that there is no way it actually is Eddie’s. Not with the 1985.) continues to plague Corroded Coffin — before practice starts, during their breaks, in the aftermath of their jam sessions.

Eddie doesn’t stop wearing the ring, despite it, though. And he always finds a way to change the subject when Gareth, Jeff, and Archie bring it up, or he gives them stupid nonanswers instead that make them huff and puff.

It all comes to a head one day when practice is getting close to ending and a familiar maroon Beemer pulls up outside of Gareth’s garage. The engine cuts, and then out pops none other than Steve goddamn Harrington himself. 

The boys are vaguely aware that Eddie is on friendly terms with Steve, but they don’t know the full extent of it. They don’t know how deep it actually runs. And they certainly don’t know that they’ve been dating for the better part of four months now.

It’s almost funny how they didn’t even think to make that connection.

Until now.

Until Steve Harrington saunters his way up Gareth’s driveway and stops in the mouth of the garage, arms crossed loosely over his chest, head bobbing along like he’s actually enjoying the noise they’re making. There’s a certain look on his face, in his eyes — something pleased, something contented, something unbearably soft, as he watches them jamming out. As he watches Eddie jamming out.

They’re in the middle of a song, and everyone’s sort of lost in their instruments, lost in the music — except for Gareth. He spots Steve first. He sees that look on his face, follows his eyes to find them glued to Eddie. Observes for a few seconds, and watches as Steve’s stare doesn’t waver once.

He only has eyes for Eddie.

And that’s when it clicks.

Gareth’s hands stop moving, the drumbeat cutting off as his sticks just hover and he stares, slack-jawed. 

It takes a couple of seconds for the others to notice that Gareth stopped playing, and when they do they stop too and turn on him.

“Gareth, the fuck, dude?” Archie says, throwing his arms out.

“Everything good, man?” Jeff asks.

“Class of ‘85,” Gareth says, dumbfounded, finally pulling his eyes away from Steve to fix them on Eddie, who freezes in the middle of making googly eyes at Steve and slowly turns to meet Gareth's gaze. "No fucking way."

Eddie offers Gareth a sheepish, lopsided smile and a one shouldered shrug. "Surprise?"

[mhsdatgo]

By the way, you can say you hate characters and STILL admit that they were abused or harassed. There's literally nothing wrong. Denying it or romanticizing it because of a strange kink of yours won't make your hate any less evident, trust me.

Rhaenyra was abused. She's continuously taken advantage of, and brushed away the moment she isn't needed anymore. And she experiences this first hand with her own father, who completely ruins motherhood for her when she grows up watching Aemma get impregnated and either miscarry or have the baby be stillborn or die in the cradle. If Viserys had been by her side as a supporter to her claim since the start, he wouldn't have gotten Aemma pregnant again and again in the pursuit of a male child. He wouldn't have married Alicent for the same reason. Even after, the only reason why he still stands by her side, and it's time the fandom accepts this, it's solely because of his grief and guilt, because Rhae is the only remnant of Aemma.

And there it starts. Firstly, groomed and left alone naked and alone by her uncle in a brothel. Secondly, slept with Criston Cole (although she did coerce him, that's still a literal TEENAGER) then she's married to a gay man and still approached super young by her new bodyguard and just one year later she's started giving birth to his children. (Side note: FUCK Rhaenyra x Harwin. FUCK with reverb. With hard K.)

And up to this point, most fan agree that she's had a shitty life, although I don't agree with some of her choices. (like her treatment of Criston Cole and the bastards, not because I'm some kind of bigot, but because passing bastards as trueborn in THAT precise world sets them up for failure, not being legally deserving of a thone DOES NOT mean me hating them. That's for another post.)

To top it all off, she meets her uncle again, and there starts the fanfic self insert. They have sex on a beach the day of Laena's funeral, the only one of the three wives he's ever been canonically loyal to (FUCK you writers) and fans think it's soulmates meeting again or sum shit. They subtly threaten Laenor to fake his death or actually die (that's what they were trying to do, cope harder) and marry mere days after the death of Laena.

Yes, all cute and romantic (for Dumbnyras twats) but literally, has it done anything good? For Rhaenyra or like, anyone else? It just brought Daemon closer to the line of succession. Literally. That's all the good it has done.

Fast forward to ep 10. How do I even start with this? Only Jace seems to be on Rhaenyra's side. It's clear he only obeys to Daemon out of fear and is scared to talk back to him. Meanwhile, he COMPLETELY disregards his wife's, and by his faction's loyalties, QUEEN's, orders, he ignores her wails of pain as she miscarries their daughter out of pure shock and grief for her father's death. He lashes out and chokes her on the same day and people still see him as the malewife to Rhaenyra's girlboss. They're always ready to do award-deserving mental gymnastic to justify this man.

"He was planning war because he wanted to distract himself!!!!" "He only choked Rhae because he was mad at Viserys, he'd never hurt her!!!!!!"

Fuck off. Coming from probably Rhaenyra's #1 hater. Fuck. Off. Don't say you care about her place in the view of men when you're ready to justify shit like this.

This is the same man who runs off and has an affair with a teenager, and then prefers going on and having a badass death instead of joining his wife and children who need him in King's Landing.

Do I like Rhaenyra? No. Do I think that, because of this, she's never been abused, or exploited in any way, in her life? ALSO no. My distaste for her character has NOTHING to do with Viserys, Criston, Daemon, Harwin or literally ANYONE ELSE in her life.

Alicent Hightower time, baby.

My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my entire bloodline, my Roman Empire. And more. To anyone who thinks of her as nothing but a bitter/jealous girl, go read @feretrumdulcia 's post about this matter cuz there's literally no one I've seen that words it better. (And bub if you're reading, long live you and the way you think.)

https://www.tumblr.com/feretrumdulcia/720746371814195200/i-have-seen-quite-often-that-many-people-consider

Anyone who can read this and argue that Alicent is envious/jealous or bitter, honestly needs to take the heart shaped sunglasses off, get off tumblr and Ao3, learn what media literacy is and start learning how to possess a crumble of it. To us it makes sense to synpathize with both, because we've seen the big picture. To Alicent, Rhaenyra gave her virtue to the man that almost killed her brother, and chose to believe she did not out of trust and maybe nostalgia for her friendship and easier times, only to have her father be blamed and taken away from her as a result.

She has four kids in the span of, how much? Five, six years? Seven at best? Helaena and Aemond are NINE MONTHS APART. Viserys didn't even let her rest after she gave birth to her daughter. And I'm convinced 100% that he kept her as Idk some whore he didn't need to pay for because it's stated that he never wanted Aegon but the son he butchered Aemma for. Why keep on bedding her and forcing children on her when you'd never get what you want from her?

Throughout the series she's called bitter and downright a c*nt for this and that reason. She tries convincing Viserys that Rhae's children are CLEARLY bastards and she's setting herself and them up for failure by committing treason and putting them on the throne? Nah, power hungry, jealous, bitter. She marries Helaena to Aegon as a last resort because she's Valyrian and probably would've received proposals worse than the ones Rhaenyra made that would eventually convince Viserys to give her away? Hates her daughter, abuser, shitty mom. Rhae's sons slit her son's eye out instead of running when they had the chance and she rightfully lashes out? Nah, crazy ass, for the dungeons. She gives money and moon tea to her son's rape victim to ensure she gets a way out and isn't forced to have a baby she doesn't want? Bruh, rape apologist. She goes to Aegon and RIGHTFULLY disciplines him? Abuser. Forced to show her feet to a rancid filthy man to know where her son is? Upholds the patriarchy, hypocrite. She convinces Aegon to start fighting for her family because it's either them or the Blacks and he needs to start putting his life together and fight for them, so she crowns him and makes him King? Treason, deserves death, long live the brothel queens.

Somehow, it is ALWAYS HER FAULT. And those few that admit how wronged she was make fun of her.

CAN SHE FUCKING WIN?! Or y'all just hate her because she isn't Valyrian?

Btw almost all of these arguments are the same for Book!Alicent who I personally believe to be FAR MORE than just a bitter stepmom that hates her stepdaughter. She arguably has more reasons to start a coup against her in the books without that prophecy shit.

TLDR; It's OKAY to hate characters and admit they're abused and taken advantage of at the same time. You don't have a moral high-ground on no one because you hate or love a character instead of the other.

[aww-canon-no]

Steddie Fic- 9 Stops

9 Stops

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rated: Everyone (but with kissing)

Deaf Eddie, newly deaf Steve, meet cute, modern fic, no upside down

Summary:  And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

Note: You have all been so nice?  Im crying?  This fandom is so soft.  Posting one more Tumblr one-shot tonight.  This time with kissing.I gave you Deaf Steve so now have Deaf Eddie/deaf Steve (big D little d, not an innuendo)

Word Count: 2400

*** 

The train is quiet.  In a literal sort of way, everything is quiet for Eddie Munson who was born deaf and remained deaf despite all the praying and laying hands and shit that adults were always doing at his parents’ church when he was little.

That was before CPS got involved and Wayne stepped in and made things better.

But in a more metaphorical way, the train is quiet because—what most people don’t understand—the Deaf community is loud.  And he means that in every way it’s possible to mean that.  Everything is turned up to max volume so they can feel it.  When they get together it’s big gestures and faces all twisted up in expression and wagging tongues and stomping feet and…it’s a lot.

It ain’t your momma’s sweet little interpreter at Sunday Service kind of deaf.

He doesn’t regret the job working at the center, but he takes the train home instead of carpooling with the other guys because it’s going to get loud again when he meets up with the rest of Corroded Coffin for band practice.  They met at school when Eddie was finally allowed to leave the nonsense of mainstream education he couldn’t actually understand behind him.

Garret wanted to call the band something like Deaf Devils which Eddie flat out refused because he will not—under pain of death or torture—ever be obvious or predictable.

Also why he takes the train.

At least, why he used to.

Now he takes the train because he takes the train.  The Hair, Eddie’s been calling him.  It’s a sign name that Steve Harrington doesn’t actually know about since he doesn’t interact with Eddie.  Eddie doesn’t do intake or adult shit.  He mostly works with newly deafened teens, or teens that have come from hearing homes and are finally allowed to get more involved in the Deaf community.

They call it socializing but it ’s mostly a way for Eddie to be able to run the most badass DnD campaigns known to man and get paid for it.  It’s maybe the sweetest job he’s ever had and there’s no chance in hell he’s ever giving it up.

But he noticed Steve when he showed up—looking like a scared, lost little lamb the way they all do when their world has been flipped upside down.  And Eddie does feel sympathy for him.  Steve looks like the kind of guy Eddie hate. The kind of jock that liked to push Eddie into trash cans and lockers because—surprising absolutely no one—Deaf school had preppy jock assholes too.

So Eddie mostly avoids Steve and his polo shirts and his annoyingly glorious hair for a really long time.  And he definitely doesn’t get soft on the inside whenever he sees the look of frustration on Steve’s face when he comes out of the ASL level one class.

Eddie remembers it pretty well, but not well enough to relate.  He also never lost a sense so he’s not quite sure what Steve’s going through.  

But he’s not a monster.  He feels.

He feels too much sometimes.

He kind of wants to tell Steve that it gets not just a little better, but so fucking much better.  That it’s a big deal that Steve came to the center because most people his age just get some metal and magnets slapped inside their skulls and hope for the best and move on without realizing they don’t actually have to choose between one or the other.

They don’t have to lose one to gain.

Or something poetic like that.

He needs to write that down.  It sounds like it could be a pretty decent song lyric.

Anyway, Eddie used to take the two o’clock train, but now he pushed it to three because that’s when Steve shows up at the station with his head down and his hearing aids off and his fingers all twisting in his lap like he’s trying to quietly practice everything he learned that day.  Eddie notices the shaking, and he notices the dark bags under Steve’s eyes.

Steve doesn’t notice him though.  He’s not quite there yet.  At that place where sight replaces sound naturally, and he starts noticing everything around him without waiting to hear it.  

He can’t help but keep his eyes on Steve, even squashed between two dudes—one of whom is eating legit an actual to-go box full of fettuccini alfredo.

And of course that happens to be the moment Steve finally looks up and sees him.  After six weeks, Steve finally notices.

His lips twitch.  Eddie braces himself because he expects Steve to be maybe angry.  It’s obvious Steve recognizes him.

Then Steve raises a hand—a small and subtle thing.  ‘Hi.’

Eddie snorts.  ‘Hi.’

Steve goes on a face journey which Eddie reads like one of his favorite novels and in spite of himself, he smiles wider.

‘You think this guy would freak out of I took a bite of his food?’ Eddie chances.

There’s no way in hell Steve’s that far along in his lessons, but he watches as Steve’s lips curve around a couple of the words he knows.

‘Don’t understand.  Sorry,’ Steve finally signs, back—still subtle like he doesn’t want to be noticed.  Then he yawns, the kind that Eddie knows probably cracks his jaw.

He stands up without realizing it and moves across to sit beside his not-friend.  He sticks out his fist and they knock knuckles—a fairly safe greeting.

Steve sighs.  ‘Sorry,’ he signs again.

‘I know,’ Eddie tells him.  ‘Give it time.’

Steve must have learned that one from his teacher saying it over and over to his students.  It’s not your average ASL class.  It’s not hearing people trying to get a credit, or start a new job or something.  It’s all people in Steve’s shoes trying to learn how to communicate again without making their brain feel like it’s full of static electricity.

‘You’re tired,’ Eddie signs.

Steve nods, then remembers to respond with a fist.  ‘Yes’

Eddie laughs and shakes his head.  ‘What’s your stop?’  He signs it slowly and fingerspells some so Steve will understand.  Train-STATION, yours, which?

Steve licks his lips, then lifts a hand, pinky touching his thumb.  ‘Sixth AVE.’

Eddie nods decidedly, then shuffles so close their thighs touch.  Steve startles, but Eddie just reaches over and tugs Steve’s head until it falls against him.  ‘Sleep,’ he tells him.  They have nineteen stops to go—and that’s nine past Eddie’s.  But he’s done worse things than ride the train all evening.

Steve stiffens like he’s going to put up a fight for a second, and then his body relaxes.  He’s asleep before stop four.  He’s snoring so loud that Eddie can feel it rumbling against his side by stop seven.

By stop sixteen Eddie hates himself for what he has to do.

At stop eighteen he gently prods Steve who wakes up with a jolt and stares around like he doesn’t know where he is.  Their gazes lock, then his shoulders sag.

‘Thank you,’ he signs.  His fingers are nice.  Lovely, in fact, the way they tip from his chin.  Watching him blossom into the language will be a real treat.

If Eddie’s invited in.

***

So.

Train naps become a thing.

Eddie meets him at the entrance to the station, and Steve tells him one or two facts about his day with his growing vocabulary—and he probably picks up some colorful commentary and slang—and some of Eddie’s home-grown home-signs which is alright by him.  Just…hopefully he doesn’t get yelled at in class for using them.

Because then Eddie will get yelled at later. Scott Clarke will definitely know where they came from.  But it’s kind of hard to care because Steve scrunches up his face when he’s processing something new.

And Eddie’s halfway in love and he’s not interested at all in pumping the brakes, even if Steve seems pretty goddamn straight and will only break Eddie’s heart in the end.

***

It’s twelve weeks now and Steve’s starting to look better.  A little more rested.

It’s a Tuesday the first time Steve doesn’t fall asleep, but he also doesn’t put space between them, either.  He stares at his hands for a while, then he looks up at Eddie.

‘I,’ he starts.  ‘Went deaf overnight.’

That…’sss a surprise.  That’s not super common to just randomly go deaf.  At least, not in someone as young as Steve who can’t be more than twenty-five.  Not that Eddie hasn’t seen stranger things, but still.

He can tell Steve’s not done with his story.

‘Dr told me I had three tumors and I would go deaf eventually,’ he signs it Deaf-future-later like he’s not sure which one is right and Eddie just lets him have it.  His brain’s interpreting it juuuust fine.  ‘I was sad, but okay.’

Eddie nods.  That-that.

Steve smiles and bites his lip before letting it go and it’s all spit-slick and shiny and Eddie wants to taste it so badly.  ‘I fell,’ he signs.

Eddie clarifies that he means he physically fell.

Steve touches the back of his head.  ‘Nineteen STITCHES.  CONCUSSION.’

Eddie winces.  He’s has his fair share of head injuries from mosh pits and other stupid shit, but those were injuries he all-but chose to have.  Steve looks devastated.

‘Dizzy,’ he signs.  ‘VERTIGO.’

Eddie shows him the sign for that and Steve copies it.

‘I couldn’t walk.  Tried everything.  Fail.’

Eddie winces again.  ‘Sorry.’

Steve shrugs.  ‘They removed tumors.  Hearing was gone.’

Eddie tries to think about what life might be like if he just woke up one day and lost a sense.  And okay it would be different since he was already Deaf but he still gets it.  As best as he can, anyway.

He sighs and turns, cupping Steve’s cheek.  Steve leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, and God knows Eddie is, so he’s not in a hurry to pull back.  He grazes his thumb under Steve’s eye.  ‘Sleeping better?’

Steve laughs.  Eddie has some—what the doctors call residual hearing which seems a little ridiculous since Eddie was born this way, but whatever.  It’s enough to hear—just barely—the rumble of Steve’s laugh over the faint noise of the train.  Mostly he feels it against his hand though.

‘Yeah.  Better,’ he repeats.

Eddie sighs, but before he can mourn the loss of their routine, Steve shuffles closer and lays his head down.  Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep, but this is good too.

***

For the first time in six months, Eddie doesn’t come to his ASL class.  And it’s not like Eddie’s waiting…

Which is a lie.  He’s definitely waiting.

The kids give him epic and endless shit for being distracted—to the point he gives up and lets Mike start his own campaign while he paces the room and feels all kind of itchy all over and he hates it.  He hates it so much.

The kids all go home eventually and Eddie gets on the train at three and he stares at the empty seat that Steve should be in and it feels like there’s a sudden canyon or maybe a dark hole that leads into some alternate dimension that stole these moments away from him.

His stop comes and he almost doesn’t get off until he remembers he doesn’t need to wait nine stops past, and nine stops back.  His knees are kind of shaky as he brushes past people and feels the silence kind of profoundly for the first time in maybe ever.

And then the world rearranges.

Steve’s there, leaning against the wall near the stairs with his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face that’s both terrifying and really, really beautiful.  Eddie feels like he might choke on his own tongue as he stumbles to a halt.

‘Nine.’

Eddie stares at Steve’s hand thinking maybe he’s got the wrong sign.

Then he does it again.  ‘Nine.’

Eddie looks behind him, then at Steve again.

‘Your stop is before mine.’

Eddie flushes.  Hard.  So hard he gets a little dizzy.  ‘Yes.’

Steve swallows hard.  ‘Why?’

Eddie flops his arms and his whole body kind of moves with it, and he wants to pace and be loud with his body but they’re in public.  Like, hearing public.  Someone will definitely call the cops and tell them he’s on drugs, especially since he tends to vocalize a little loudly when he’s uncomfortable and it unsettles hearing people’s delicate little ears.

He takes a breath.  ‘You were tired.’

Steve blinks at him kind of incredulously.  ‘I was tired,’ he repeats.  His face doesn’t give Eddie any indication that it’s a question but…

Maybe it is?

‘You were tired,’ he repeats.

Steve pushes away from the wall.  Stalks a step closer.  Then suddenly his hand is on Eddie’s cheek bare and warm and soft, and he mirrors that gesture, swiping a thumb under Eddie’s eye.  ‘Where is your shoulder?’

‘My—’ Eddie starts.  Stops.  His hand hovers in the air.  His shoulder.  His own Eddie?  ‘I don’t need one.’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve shoots back at him.  It’s an older, more archaic sign he definitely got from Scott, but it hits the mark.

Eddie sighs and shrugs again.  ‘You were tired,’ he just repeats.  He needs Steve to get it.

And oh.  Maybe he does, because he’s pushing in closer again and his hand has fallen to the back of Eddie’s neck and there’s absolutely no signing space between them now.  Steve’s lips move like maybe he’s talking to himself—probably a habit he’ll never totally lose, but Eddie likes it.  He likes the way Steve’s lips dance and he wants to feel them.

And holy shit this might be his chance because…

Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

But when it ends, Steve is still warm, and still perfect, and still touching him.

‘Nine stops,’ Steve manages to sign.

Eddie laughs.  ‘Eighteen, if you count the ones on the way back.’

He feels Steve’s groan as he rolls his eyes, then he grins as Steve surges back in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

Kiss him.

[ambcass]

ᴄᴏʙʀᴀ ᴋᴀɪ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ (ᴄᴏʙʀᴀ ᴋᴀɪ ʙᴏʏꜱ)

ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴅɪᴀᴢ:

->You two are in the same dojos no matter what. When he was in Cobra Kai, you were too. When he switched dojos, you did too.

->You two started dating during season 3.

->He fell first (after the FIRST Sam break up) but you fell harder. ->If you do karate, you two would train together. He doesn't like training with you because he's so scared that he'll hurt you.

->He was so awkward when it came to PDA. He didn't wanna weird you out. He would always ask you if it was okay to hug you or kiss you. Even asked if he could hold your hand.

->You're parents love him soo muchhhh. When he comes over, he'll help out with housework and is overall a gentleman.

->Jealousy levels: 8/10. OH HE IS A JEALOUS MAN. If he thinks that you are getting too comfortable with a guy (or girl), he'll go insane. He wouldn't admit it but his whole mood would change from happy to angry

-> If you speak another language, he'll try to learn it!!

-> His love language is acts of service and physical touch fs (He would gift you smth but bros broke asf) ʀᴏʙʙʏ ᴋᴇᴇɴᴇ:

->You two started dating when he broke up with Sam.

->He doesn't encourage you to do karate because of what happened to him and Miguel but he'll teach you the basics so you can defend yourself.

->He can't cook at all but he'll try to. (yk that one meme where a little girl is standing outside smiling as her house is burning... That's Robby)

->BIG PDA MAN!! Hands around your waist at all times, forehead kisses, and long hugs are a must!! (I want him broo)

->Oh his jealousy levels are high high... 9.5/10 Like it's not like you can't talk to other people but if you two are getting too comfortable with each other.. (el es toxicooo pero lo amamos<3)

->ROBBY DEF TEACHES YOU HOW TO SKATE!! But even allat training, you still can't do an ollie 💀💀💀.

->You visited him during his juvenile times BUT he lowk was a bitch and didn't want to see you because he needed "space"...

->yall made up dw

ᴇʟɪ ᴍᴏꜱᴏɪᴡɪᴢ:

-> This one is for you @yippeeyoppee (you'll get ur kon fanfic when I finish it)

->Moon didn't understand him but you did. You've been there for him before he even became "Hawk", when he was just "the kid with the weird lip"

-> When he was still a nerd: You would always tell him that his lip looks badass (it does idk why ppl hatin) and comfort him when people try to bully him.

->He liked you for a long time but just didn't know how to express it because he thought that YOU THOUGHT HE WAS LAMEEE

-> we all know that Eli is still secretly a nerd... He would definitely make nerdy references from time to time.

->He got a tattoo of your favorite thing on his wrist so he can be reminded of you when he's feeling down.

->Karate is a big no. He's not going to stop you from doing karate but he really doesn't want you to do karate. He's too scared to see you get hurt like Miguel did.

->Jealousy levels are 100/10...Hands around your waist while talking to someone he doesn't know that well. Begging you to leave and stop talking to Robby (when they were beefing). He would probably talk to other girls to get you jealous in order to get you to stop talking to other guys (TOXICOO)

->His love language is physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service.

ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴛʀɪ ᴀʟᴇxᴏᴘᴏᴜʟᴏꜱ:

(ima go crazy on this one)

->You're his first girlfriend (maybe first time 😝)

->Rambles about his nerd shit to you every time

-> Gives you cringy ass nicknames fsfs

->Not a big fan of physical touch. Favors quality time more.

->You bought him one Marvel comic once and he went crazy! Like non-stop "thank you"s and "I love you"s

->Super open on you getting into karate. Thinks that you guys can train together like superheroes

-> Bought matching costumes/cosplays for Halloween.

->Jealousy levels 6/10: He easily gets jealous but calms down because he doesn't want to be so controlling. He doesn't want you to feel like you can't be friends with guys.

-> When it does come to PDA- like Miguel, he asks before he touches you (that sounded weird I'm sorry). His palms get really sweaty every time he holds your hand but you don't care.

->You used to have a big crush on Hawk before liking Demetri but when Demetri got his arm broken, you quickly realized how much of a jerk Hawk was. With a lot of quality time with Demetri, you slowly fell for him.

a/n: Flare (@miguelnation) suggested that I should write a !baristia Demetri x Reader.... it's in the works (trust) Also I'm debating if I should like yk write a kinktober fanfic but ill make a poll for that 😭

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader

-> in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

a/n: starting with half the boys, i'll be working on the rest of them + bachelorettes after ! i got a bit carried away with elliott's ... but can you blame me?

alex

carries the pendant around in his pocket for a week, hoping the right words will magically find him if he does

(they don't)

definitely the type to lock himself in the bathroom and stare at himself through the mirror while practicing what to say to you

decides to propose during a quiet walk in the evening so he has your full attention and all the time in the world to profess his love to you

alex swears his heart is about to fly out of his chest as the two of you walk hand in hand around pelican town, the sun long gone below the horizon. the street lamps guide the two of you, fireflies intermittently emitting gentle flashes of light.

he doesn't even realize you're expecting a response from him until you wave a hand in front of his face, moving in front of him so he's forced to look into your amused gaze.

"alex," you laugh, and his breath hitches, "are you listening? you look like you've been zoning out."

he musters an empty laugh back at you, internally panicking as he desperately tries to recall what you said. "what? me? no, i was just, uh . . ." think, alex, think! you can't mess up now! "i was thinking about gridball." he wants to smack himself.

"really?" you reply, raising your brows. "you're thinking about gridball, now? while i was talking to you about our anniversary coming up?"

shit.

his face pales, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the bridge near the museum. he groans, dropping your hand to run it through his hair — surely he can fix this, right?

"okay, cut the act," you say, worry beginning to show in your features. "is everything alright? what's bugging you?"

"nothing, really! it's just that, uh . . ." alex inhales a quick breath to prepare himself before grabbing both your hands in his. "you know i love you, right?"

"yes . . .," you trail off. you look at him with concerned eyes, beginning to look uneasy. "now i'm really worried—"

"no, no! just hear me out, alright?" you nod. "you know, before you moved here, my view on life was pretty boring," he admits. "all i really cared about was gridball and my grandparents. and dusty, of course, and i guess sam and haley, too—" he shakes his head, blush beginning to cover his cheeks. "whatever, you get what i'm trying to say, right?"

"i'm not entirely sure if i follow," you reply, smiling at how flustered he's gotten. "what are you getting at, alex?"

he sighs. "listen, you moving here was the best thing that ever happened to me. you've shown me there's tons more to life than whatever i was doing before, like giving random gifts to everyone in town just to make them happy, or being a badass and fighting off monsters!" you laugh, and he grins. "anyways, now that i've had a taste of what being with you is like, i don't think i'm willing to share."

your jaw drops as he reaches into his pocket and gets on one knee, opening his palm to reveal a mermaid's pendant.

"will you marry me, y/n? so i can spend the rest of my life learning more awesome stuff from you?"

he nearly collapses in relief when you nod, whooping in joy before engulfing you in a tight hug. after a few moments, he can't help but kiss you strongly, a hand cradling the back of your head with the other on the small of your back. you smile into the kiss, pulling away only to look into his teary, overjoyed eyes.

"aren't you forgetting something?" you tease, glancing down at the pendant that's still clutched in his hand.

"oh, right!" you bend your head forward as he places it around your neck, beaming at the sight.

you hold the jewel in your hand, adrenaline pumping through your blood. "looks like we'll have to plan a wedding," you say, happily pecking alex's cheek.

"yes, this is so great!" he exclaims as he jumps in excitement, unable to control himself. "alright, first, we gotta figure out where we're going to cater food from, but i know grams will want to bake our cake," he rambles, grabbing your hand as he practically starts to drag you home. "oooh, and we should totally ask sam and his band to play something for us! he knows all the songs we like, anyway. i think all the guys will help me get all dressed up, but i bet haley and the rest of the girls would go crazy over helping you pick out what to wear, they probably know better anyway—"

"alex," you interrupt, laughing at his antics, "relax. we'll figure all this out tomorrow. let's just go home." he nods.

"you're right, honey," he agrees, swinging your intertwined hands playfully. "i'm going to need all the rest i can get if i'm gonna spend all of tomorrow bragging about my engagement."

shane

leaves the pendant in his nightstand drawer and looks at it every night before he goes to sleep for nearly a month

he truly never thought he would get married — who would want to marry him, the town drunk?

regardless, the past year with you has proven otherwise, and he knows now there's no one else he wants by his side

he decides to do it quite impulsively one day, literally grabbing it from his drawer and walking to your farm

(marnie nearly faints in excitement when she sees him walk out with the mermaid's pendant in hand, while jas cheers him on)

shane starts to get nervous when he doesn't see you anywhere on the farm, making sure to double-check all the chicken coops and barns before heading toward your house. your pet runs up to him, sniffing the hand wrapped around the pendant curiously.

"got any advice?" he asks jokingly, though he doesn't receive an answer — just a tilted head and wide eyes. "guess this one's on me," he sighs, looking at the jewelry nervously.

"shane? is that you?"

shane nearly drops it as he quickly shoves his hands into his pockets, watching as you step out from your greenhouse. of course, he thinks, the one place i didn't check.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, smiling at his sudden appearance. you're wearing dirt-covered gloves and your hair is touseled and frizzy; shane thinks you're glowing. "dinner's not til later, isn't it? or else i'll need a little time to get ready."

"no, i thought i would stop by a little early," he says. "i had something i wanted to talk to you about, actually." you nod, taking off your gloves and putting them in your bag.

"of course, what's up?" you ask, looking at him with those damn eyes that he could never resist.

"we should get married," he states bluntly, excitement sending chills down his body.

he wants to kick himself as you stare at him, blinking twice before saying, "y-yeah, i guess we should."

he nods, swallowing. "it makes sense, y'know?" he reasons, suddenly avoiding your eyes. "we've been with each other for a while now, and things have been going pretty good." he pauses. "you've gotten me through a lot, you know that? i mean, before you got here, i didn't think anyone in this town gave a damn about me — but you obviously do, for whatever reason, so i'll spend the rest of my life trying my best to be the guy you see me as."

he takes the mermaid's pendant out from his pocket, sheepishly looking at you as he holds it. his eyes are watering with emotion, and by the looks of it, so are yours.

"so, what do you say, honey?" he asks softly. "will you marry me?"

"yes," you reply, smiling as he puts the necklace on you. he laughs in disbelief when he sees you wearing it, still in shock that this is his reality. you roll your eyes, pulling him in for a deep kiss. you cry out in surprise as he hugs you strongly and even lifts you off the ground slightly, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them.

"i can hardly believe this is real," he sighs, pulling you into his side. "guess i did one thing right in my lifetime."

you slap his arm, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. "you definitely didn't plan this out, did you?"

"huh? what makes you think that?"

"you couldn't even wait until dinner to ask?" you joke. "i guess it wasn't really a question, either—" you laugh as he pokes your side to cut you off.

"don't forget, you're the one who said yes," he retorts, smiling nonetheless. "you're officially stuck with me."

elliott

oh, he's had the mermaid's pendant for months. pretty much since you two got together

he tried to keep it a secret, he really did, but by the time he actually decides to propose, the rest of the bachelors and bachelorettes know

still, he wants the proposal to be for you and you only, so he plans on asking you during an evening picnic dinner on the beach

that doesn't stop him from asking his friends for some help, though

"is this really necessary?" sebastian questions, placing a candle into the sand and creating a pathway to the picnic blanket near the water.

"i think it's romantic," leah sighs, handing him another candle from the box in her arms. "he's been planning and buying all this stuff for weeks now. plus, candlelight always makes things more magical."

"i'm sure the moon will be bright enough tonight to add some 'magic.'"

"the light itself is not our concern, my friend," elliott says, wrapping an arm around seb — who scowls at the contact, but decides to let him get away with it just this once — and waving his arm to show off their setup. "i need this beach to represent a scene of pure love and endearment tonight, for my beloved deserves no less than a proposal for the century!"

"right," seb monotones. "well, the candles are all set up, so i'm heading to the shade."

"you want the speakers over here, el?" sam calls out, holding up one of his wireless speakers at the entrance of the beach.

"i've got one over here, too!" abigail yells from behind the cabin.

"perfect!" elliott replies, grinning as the setting he's been picturing finally comes together. he waves goodbye as everyone begins to head home, turning to the only part of his plan left untouched — the picnic blanket. i suppose the rest is up to me.

-

"are you ready, my dear?"

"elliott, i've been ready for the past twenty minutes," you say, playfully smacking the hands covering your eyes. "can i look now?" he laughs before finally lowering his arms, watching lovingly as your eyes widen at the setting in front of you.

"shall we?" he asks, holding his arm out. you gladly hold on to him as the two of you make your way down the beach, in awe at the candles lighting your way.

"i must be dreaming," you say, shaking your head. "how did you—? wait, where's the music coming from?" you realize soft acoustic music is playing throughout the beach, feeling as if you're in a movie scene.

"ah, that? i asked sam and abigail if i could borrow their speakers," elliott explains proudly. "i also recruited leah and sebastian to help me create this enchanting path."

you laugh. "let me guess, you asked alex and haley to distract me and bring me to the library?" your jaw dropped. "no, and you asked maru and penny to get lunch with me? all so i wouldn't come to find you?"

"i had a feeling my darling would venture to my whereabouts, so i requested the help of our colleagues to keep you away. though i'm sure it was difficult for you, i wanted this to be a surprise," he admits, smiling at you. "do you . . . like it?" he asks quietly, a bit scared he had done too much.

"elliott, this is more than anything i could have asked for," you say, warmth coating your words. "what's the occasion?"

he sighs in relief before replying, "have i ever needed a measly excuse to spoil you, dear?"

"i suppose not," you agree amusedly, recalling all the times you've returned home to a bouquet sitting on your porch.

finally, the two of you reach the end of the path, sitting together on the blanket. a big basket covered with a cloth sits at the center of it, as well as two plates, utensils, and your favorite food.

you shake your head. "this is ridiculous," you state, looking at elliott with big eyes. "how long have you been planning this?"

he hums in thought as he plates your food, pushing it towards you. "that, my dear, is none of your concern," he says, "though, i will say it took quite a bit of strategy. and money," he jokingly adds.

after the two of you eat, elliott hands the basket over to you, trying his very best to contain himself.

"i thought it'd be fitting to get you some gifts," he states, as you begin to uncover its contents one by one.

inside, you find a framed version of your favorite photo with him, a hand-painted mug, a poem, and—

you gasp. "are those rubies?" you ask, a couple red stones glittering at the top of the basket. you pick them up, realizing they're matching keychains.

"courtesy of emily," elliott explains. he hesitates, breathing out lightly before continuing. "rubies signify love and passion, you know, as well as good luck and prosperity."

you laugh lightly, holding up the keychains to the moonlight to see them shine. "perfect, should work wonders for us and the farm—"

"they also symbolize weddings."

you blink, gently setting down the gems as you look at him. he holds out the mermaid's pendant he has been patiently keeping for you, eyes already shining with tears as you gasp.

"y/n, the time we have spent together has been by far the best of my entire life," he starts, "and when i look to the future, i'm afraid i cannot picture one without you walking by my side. you are, and always will be, the love of my life, my shining light, my fairy book tale. you, my love, are my happy ending.

"so, will you do me the honors and marry me?"

you jump into his arms as soon as he finishes speaking, both of you laughing as he happily holds you.

"yes, elliott, of course!" you exclaim. he grins as he holds your face in his hands, covering your face in kisses before finally landing on your lips. your hands run through his hair before you fall backward, elliott landing on top of you with his hand cradling your head. you peck his nose, and he laughs once more before helping you sit up.

"here, let us celebrate with some wine!" he decides, grabbing two bottles he had left in the corner. "shane and harvey said these were the best the winery had to offer."

"you really got the whole town in on this, huh?" you tease, barely containing yourself as he helps you put on the jewelry.

he rubs the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "well, it began with leah, and i thought it wouldn't hurt to tell harvey, but then of course i had to tell—" he stops himself. "secrecy has never been one of my strong suits, has it, love?"

you shake your head, leaning into his arm as you listen to the sound of the music mixing with the crashing of the waves.

"don't worry," you reassure, and he looks down at you with nothing but love in his gaze. "you have plenty of other traits to make up for it."

[desolationtimstoker]

gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

[packsvlog]

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. ��I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

[augustjustice]

Pretty in Pink

AO3 Link

I am still firmly on my Stevie Harrington agenda this week, so please enjoy below Eddie's thirsty-turned-sappy thoughts about his favorite girl, inspired by @getlost0p's absolutely delightful art as well @cherrycolasteve's very cute tags.

Eddie taps the pen against his front teeth absently, eyes flitting uncomprehendingly over the various multiple choice options of his practice test. With his brain already feeling fuzzy and unfocused, it’s easy to let his gaze drift away from the page over to the girl currently sprawled out beside him–Stevie Harrington, curled up reading the X-Men comic Dustin had strong-armed her into picking up. 

And, look–who could really blame him for getting a little distracted? There's a hot girl in his bed which is, admittedly, a rare enough occurrence–until shit went sideways last spring, at least–to still feel a little notable. Even if she is only there for moral support while he studies, his GED test date circling ever closer.

Stevie's wearing a striped white and pink polo with the buttons undone all the way to the bottom of the neckline and tight stonewash jeans. The absolute preppiest of prep attire, completed by the cherry-flavored chapstick shining red on her lips.

Eddie wants to kiss her stupid.

The jeans are high waisted, pulled up snug over the curve of her ass, and with Stevie rolled onto her stomach reading the comic, Eddie's getting quite the view.

Then she shifts, flopping over onto her back beside him, the movement followed by the sound of pages turning. The new position offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, a further hint of what her clingy polo is doing such a great job of highlighting. 

Eddie looks. Of course he looks.

Estrogen has taken to Stevie’s figure like a duck to water. In the plush spread of her hips, making her pert ass even rounder, which Eddie would have thought was damn near impossible. And in the plumpness steadily gathering at her chest, her once defined pecs softening, giving way to the gentle swell of her breasts, which grow fuller by the day. 

It’s become something of a problem for him lately–the staring. 

That was true, to some extent, even before she started to transition. Stevie's always been gorgeous, and Eddie's always been aware of that fact, harboring a hopeless, from afar crush on her since they landed in the same impossible English class his first senior year and Eddie had become painfully aware of what all the Hawkins High girls were on about. Not that he would have admitted that, at the time, not even under threat of painful, agonizing death–no, the coming terms with it came later, during his spring break from hell spent realizing that Stevie Harrington was not only surprisingly sweet but a totally badass, bonafide hero.

…The whole ripping that bat apart with her teeth thing certainly didn't hurt, either.

The point is, he's always looked at Stevie, flirted with her. Probably been too obvious about it, too. 

It's just that since she started to transition, it feels like he's gotten so much worse, like any subtlety he was holding on to by his fingernails has been ripped from his hands. Eddie can’t stop staring at her, the heat of embarrassment prickling his face, tongue-tied like a school boy with a crush each and every time he gets caught. 

And that's the worst part of it–he does get caught, far more often than he'd like.

It’d been months, now, since the first time Stevie explicitly called him out for it–a warm Saturday in the summer when they had dragged the kids down to the arcade, trying to beat the heat with the dark, air-conditioned interior of the local nerd haunt. 

Stevie had been watching Erica beat her own high score at Duck Hunt, leaned over the machine in her Daisy Duke cutoff shorts and a cropped pink jersey, ponytail swinging against her back and the scars littering her sides unashamedly on display. That’s something they had both been working themselves up to, together–not hiding their war wounds, fighting off the anxiety that came from people’s stares.

But Eddie had been staring for an entirely different reason when Stevie caught him. 

As Erica ran off to ‘pummel’ Dustin after his latest Dig Dug win, Stevie propped an elbow on the abandoned game, shooting Eddie a knowing look.

“Like what you see, Munson?” she asked coyly.

Eddie’s entire face flamed with heat. 

“I was just–your top!” he blurted. “I was just admiring your top, my lady. It’s…it’s cute. The pink–think that might be your color, Harrington.”

Stevie’s cheeks burned her own pretty pink to match it, then, which Eddie couldn’t help but preen about. 

And if he noticed she started wearing a lot more pink around him after that, well…he tried not to read too much into it.

Just like the pretty pale pink she’s wearing today, attracting his eye and forcing Eddie to hold back a twitterpated sigh as he watches her, wrapped up in the bright primary colored pages of the X-Men

…This bullshit of his is definitely gonna get his ass kicked by Robin or Nancy, one of these days, he’s sure of it. Possibly both of them at once–Buck may just hold him down while Wheeler does what she does best.

But the truth is, it's not just about how Stevie’s figure has steadily filled out. He's not gonna lie, that's definitely part of it–but also…she just has this glow about her, now, like she's settling so happily into herself. It’s like that contentment beams out of her, radiant, in every little gesture, every giddy smile. He's drawn in by it, like Icarus with the sun, like a moth to a flame–too entranced to turn away, even if it might end up burning him in the long run.

The thing is, Stevie's beautiful, and she takes his breath away.

She’s become such an intrinsic part of his life, since everything that happened, he’s not entirely sure what he would do without her. Hell, they still share a bed, some nights–fighting back the nightmares together is always easier. And in the intervening months since that started, she's grown steadily softer beside him, curves pressing against his body where there were once hard planes and sharper angles. Her presence is no less warm and comforting than it had been from the beginning, though, her weight and smell familiar, the steady rhythm of her breathing when it finally evens out the same.

Eddie wonders if they were supposed to have stopped doing that, somewhere along the way–the sleeping together part, even though they're only doing it in the most platonic, just-friends sort of way possible. Then again, he's never put all that much stock in it, what he is and isn't supposed to be doing. Besides, how much difference could stopping really have made? Not a whole hell of a lot, in his opinion, considering they've both been bi as fuck the whole damn time.

Sharing a bed all the time doesn't really help his other problem–the staring, the thinking about Stevie's plush curves and soft skin–but that's his own shit to deal with and work out. Stevie shouldn't have to suffer through the nights alone just because Eddie can't keep his hard on for her in check.

So, yeah. He thinks she’s a knockout–of course he does–but the truth is, that’s all secondary to the way he feels about her. She’s steadily grown into one of his best friends, in the time since he’s finally gotten to actually know her. And if all he ever gets to do is look–and better yet, talk to her, bicker and joke and tease, share popcorn at movie nights crammed too close together on the Harrington’s couch and laugh at all the same stupid inside jokes–well, he considers himself honored for the privilege of it. 

“What, Munson?” Stevie laughs suddenly, drawing him out of his reverie–during which he had, of course, still been staring–by smacking him lightly on the arm with her comic book. 

That had been another secret, shared between them–Stevie liked the X-Men, she’d confessed, even if she couldn’t resist pretending otherwise to Dustin. She said the Mutants made her feel…seen, in a way she really hadn’t ever before. 

"I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart," Eddie had agreed easily when she told him. 

"Kinda figured you might, Eds,” she had shot him a soft smile, which he returned in kind.

That feeling of being seen–understood–stretched out beyond the pages of the comic book to encompass them both, the way they just fundamentally got each other.

"Mystique's got nothing on you, though," he had added with a wink, falling back on his old routine of borderline flirtation just for the pleasure of seeing her blush yet again, ducking her head as she gave his shoulder an exasperated nudge.

He blinks back to reality, finds himself looking into those same mesmerizing eyes now, big and brown and staring back at him expectantly. A smile plays at the corners of Stevie’s mouth as she puts her comic aside. Scooting closer, she reaches to give one of his test booklet pages a quick shake. 

"You're supposed to be studying, you know. Believe me, I get how hard that can be, and I wasn't exactly the best in school…but I'm still like 99% sure you at least have to look at the page before you get it,” she teases. “And I haven’t got the answers to this question secretly penciled somewhere up my sleeve, promise. So, not really sure how staring at me is gonna help you here."

Eddie studies her face–the amused pink curve of her mouth, the cute little moles that dot her cheeks and throat. 

That wistful sigh finally escapes him.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies on autopilot, and then, the confession rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, “you’re just so…fucking pretty.”

As soon as the words have left his mouth, he cringes, preparing to blurt out yet another apology–and then Stevie’s finger presses against his lips. When he glances at her, he finds that her whole face has lit up. 

Well, fuck. If she’s gonna look at him like that, he can’t even be sorry for his big mouth.

Then, surprise of all surprises–he feels a jolt as she leans in and pecks him once on the cheek, lips smooth from her cherry chapstick. 

“Thanks. You’re sweet, Eddie,” Stevie murmurs, quietly, as she pulls back. Then, her smile turns mischievous, pretty eyes giving one of her patented, exasperated eyerolls. “And good of you to finally say something about it.”

Eddie barks out a disbelieving laugh before he can help it, hiding his face for a moment between his fingers.

“Seriously, Harrington, you know you’re a total babe.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stevie agrees, a glimmer of that overconfidence she’d carried herself with in school shining out. Eddie can’t even lie–he loves it. “But a girl still likes to hear it, now and again.”

“Shit, Stevie.” Head still ducked, Eddie reaches out slowly and takes her hand, twiddling with her fingers as he looks up from beneath the fringe of his bangs. “Now that I know you want me, too–I’ll tell you anytime you want.”

Reaching forward, Stevie tucks a tuft of hair behind Eddie’s ear, not letting him hide behind the curtain of it. Then, she leans in, and this time she presses a soft kiss to his lips. 

Eddie sucks in another sharp, surprised breath, finally tasting that cherry flavor for himself. 

“I’m totally gonna hold you to that one, Eds,” she says, leaving their foreheads pressed gently together even once she pulls back, “so just get ready for it.”  

But, then, a mere moment later, Stevie is bouncing backwards on the bed, giggling when Eddie leans in, trying to chase after her lips again. He groans as she picks up his booklet and presses it against his chest. 

“You can check me out all you want later, stud,” Stevie shoots him a wink, flipping open to the page he had left off on. “But, for now…you’ve gotta get back to work.”

When she settles down beside him this time, though, she stays close, hooking her chin over his shoulder. 

“And, I’ve got an idea. A tried and true method for studying. Works every time.” 

“That right?” Eddie tilts his head to face her, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, lay it on me, then, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

He taps a finger lightly against her temple. The playful twinkle in Stevie’s eyes as she grins at him makes Eddie’s heart skip a bit.

“How about…I give you a kiss for every question you get right?” she murmurs, close enough her warm breath ghosts over his skin. 

Eddie lets his eyes drop down to the red shine of her lips, and feels giddy, for once, knowing he can look his fill. After a long, loaded pause, he gives a sharp nod, clapping his hands together.

“You know what, Stevie? Studying never sounded so good.” Snatching up his pen again, he settles back with the test now spread across both their laps. “I’m in.” 

And, this time, whenever Stevie distracts Eddie from his studies–well. At least he can tell himself it’s all in the name of a good cause.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Fierce and Bold // Aemond Targaryen x Reader

warnings: none, fluff, reader is a badass, insults, insecurity, comfort, kissing + not proofread

Summary: The ladies at the keep mocked prince aemond for his appearance, what they didn't expect was to be confronted by you, who was known for your fierce behavior.

WC: 1.3k

A/N: just a small fluff one shot before CF&BD drops cause that is uhm yeah

You were known to be fierce since young, always bold and never holding back what you want to say, ready to confront anyone at any given moment. This caused many men who were looking for wives to completely skip you, because apparently according to them you were considered 'unladylike' a woman who does not know 'her place' but it did not bother you, because you did not want to get married anyway, for the life of solitary is better than being a broodmare for a man whomst you do not love.

But you had caught Aemond's eye, he first heard other men talking about you, mostly negative things and that piqued his interest, he wanted to see you, see the 'rebel' as others called you, by himself.

And as if the gods were on his side, his father, Viserys, threw a grand party in the honour of celebrating the fifth nameday of the twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, where your house was also invited.

It was as if the maiden herself entered the room when he saw you stepping in the grand hall, dressed in a beautiful dark blue gown and with it a pearl choker with a sapphire in the middle of it. His breath was caught in his throat as he watched you walk down elegantly, and it was at that moment that he decided that he wanted you all to himself.

“Look at the lady at the corner, the one with the dark blue gown, she reminds me of your sapphire.” Aegon comments dumbly, the wine and ale he had consumed already getting to his head, yet that revelation only made Aemond's desire to claim you further.

You were dancing with a Lord until you stepped backwards and hit a hard surface, you quickly turned back to spot the Prince looking down at you, and you shivered, something about him was so intimidating but also attractive, Aemond gives you his hand to take, asking you to dance in a silent way, and you do. Ditching the poor Lord you were dancing with for him.

And as you both dance, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close, and for the first time in your life, you felt your heart flutter for a man, “You look amazing, my lady.” he compliments you, and you smile at him, “You too, my prince.” you say it back shyly, “Do you want to accompany me on a walk, my prince?” you did not know where that boldness came from, but you asked, directly looking into his eye, and his mouth dropped slightly in shock at your straightforwardness, he simply smirks and nods and you lead the way.

And soon you both are strolling through the gardens, you're admiring the garden of the red keep, how well it is kept and maintained, you pick up a rose and smell it, smiling contently when the fragrant sweet smell hits your senses.

You both talk quite a bit, it's mostly just you talking to him, enjoying his company more than you thought you would, he is the listener type, while you babble on, perfectly balancing each other out. The path is soon filled with your uncontrolled giggles at his 'jokes' and his face in a wide smile, feeling content and full with you.

But all of that comes crashing down when these three ladies stop in front of you both, greeting Aemond, he simply nods his head and walks past them, and you do the same until you hear them whisper.

“Look at his spoiled attitude, if he wasn't a prince then he wouldn't even be given a shit about.” one of them says.

“Yeah, especially with that hideous scar, and the missing eye, I heard that he looks like a monster without the eyepatch.”

And that's what makes you stop in your tracks and you turn to face them, Aemond had clearly heard them too, and you can tell by the way the huge smile was wiped off his face with those comments, it angered you to no end.

“What did you just say?” you go up to the three and stand in front of them, arms crossed and they scoff while looking at you, “The prince looks hideous?” you question them as you grit your teeth and that's when their expression turns into shock, knowing you both heard them.

“That's not want we-”

“If you have something to say, say it to my face, cowards. And no way you're saying that with such a hideous personality such as yours, spoiled to the core and rotten.” you quip and you watch as the ladies gulp, “Why are you defending him as if he is a lover? Oh my, a scandal?” one of the ladies tried getting back at you, suggesting spreading a rumour that can ruin your reputation but you just raised your eyebrow.

“Really now? That is the best you can do? What did I even expect.” you roll your eyes and uncross your arms. “But to answer the latter question, yes I do like him, in fact I think he is the most attractive man in the entirety of westeros.” you give her a sarcastic smile.

“Apologise to him.” you say sternly and they all look at you confused, “Tell him that you're sorry, and if I were to hear you slandering the prince once again, I will have your tongue, it is my word.” you threaten and they shiver, knowing you, they very well know how you keep your word.

They quickly apologise and scurry off, not wanting to argue against any longer, accepting defeat.

You scoff as you watch them pace back as cowards before you turn to look at Aemond who seemed to be looking at you in a daze,

“And they deem me mannerless, at least i do not go around mocking others for no reason.” you sigh, and go near him, you shake his arm, yet he doesn't budge.

“My prince-? Mhmph!” you're cut off when he slams his lips against yours, pulling you into a deep kiss, and you are confused at first but then you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, and he groans in the kiss, pulling apart and kissing your cheek, and down your neck, nipping at the flesh.

“Marry me.” he doesn't ask, he commands and pulls you into a tight hug, his body leaning down and face buried in the crook of your neck.

“Of course, my prince.” you accept and he pulls back, giving you a smile before kissing you on the lips once again.

“You are different from all the ladies I've met before.” he says and you furrow your brows, “No my prince, I am the same as them, I am not different, a lady's lady, if you will, I only tend to speak out more and voice my opinions, a bad trait the others deem.” you sigh.

“That's not true, I quite like that you speak out more, and confront others, it is a wonderful trait.” he compliments you and you blush.

“You might be the only man in the history of Westeros who is singing praise about me.” you joke and he smiles, tucking a stray hair strand behind your ear, making you look at him.

“Gevie.” he says and you tilt your head in confusion, he chuckles before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “It means beautiful, in the language of my ancestors.” and you give him a shy smile, looking down.

“I shall ask for your hand in marriage once we get back to the hall, how does that sound?” he asks you for your opinion and you nod.

“It's perfect.”

Y/N L/N, Lady wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen, was known to be sharp, fierce, and bold, which was a trait no man liked. It was speculated that she was a witch who bewitched the Prince to fall for her, but later it was disproved by many other scholars as well as modern world scholars, who quoted ‘Historians just hate a woman who has a personality of her own.’