You feel it before you see it. Any sound or nearby conversation immediately stops, and the temperature in the room drops a little. It's something akin to watching a member of royalty walk by. Suddenly, the only thing you can hear is your breath hitching in your throat and your blood pumping in your chest.

And that's all before Marin Kitagawa even strikes a pose.

She commands any space she walks in. Any article of clothing she wears is automatically hers, almost molding itself to her very essence. She wields her body like a weapon, bending it to suit her own indomitable will. She can nail any tone, any expression, any thing. And in the one in a million off-chance that there's a correction to be made, she returns to the floor and fixes the issue with all the fury and immediacy of a woman scorned.

Who is Marin Kitagawa? You'd have to have the social savvy of a rock not to know. Grace and professionalism wrapped into one gorgeous human being. Winner of essentially every modeling award there was to win. An appearance and figure envied the world over, with a sense of style that is equal parts chic and effortless. She doesn't set trends. She is the trend.

Though her stardom and flair are undeniable, her origins were humble. No one was quite sure where exactly she came from, but she had originally started out in pre-teen and teen magazines before stepping into the limelight of major publications and brands. All of a sudden, the cute kid in the back-to-school ads was a stunning young woman with the modeling world in her palm. Companies wanted her wearing their products, and talent agencies fell over each other for the chance to sign her. She met her lofty potential before long, gaining an influence and social media following totalling in the hundreds of millions. She'd managed to conquer the world of modeling in what felt like record time—and the craziest part was, it felt deserved.

Perhaps stranger still was that Marin Kitagawa was almost universally liked—an extreme rarity in the world of celebrity, given her fame and status. Fans loved her, and coworkers and crew members felt acknowledged and respected. There was no underlying deceit or mask on the young woman. The most she'd suffered by way of a scandal was the usual tabloid drivel about her potentially gaining weight after being seen eating ice cream in public.

By all means, Marin Kitagawa was as close to perfect as perfect could be. A rare form of celebrity without drama or baggage. A role model for young girls and boys everywhere. Of course, reality dictated that not everything would go exactly her way in life, but even when presented with a challenge, she tackled it with that winning smile and infectious enthusiasm that had gotten her so far.

Yes, Marin Kitagawa was essentially perfect. Which only made her first scandal hurt that much more.

It started the same way any rumor usually did—with the paparazzi. Someone had managed to sneak a picture of the off-the-clock model in the wild. She lived in Tokyo, somewhere among the many swanky high-rises she could probably afford a hundred times over with the pay she got. A fortunate photographer looking for a scoop on a slow news day had caught her on the way to the corner store, dressed in leisure wear and the standard hat and mask to conceal her identity. There was no hiding that practiced, confident stride and that striking blonde hair, however.

Nobody noticed it at first. When the photos had hit social media, it had been a lowkey (if highly intrusive) moment of a famous celebrity blending in with the rest of the common folk. Not the first time such a novel concept had been photographed, and it would certainly not be the last. Still, it was cute, and it was still Marin Kitagawa, so the internet would enjoy it in the moment before promptly forgetting about it a few minutes later.

Most did just that. One did not. Twitter user GiantsSZN678 was the first to comment on it, and thus the first to set the gossip world on fire.

"Is that a ring on her finger?"

Within minutes, the image was blown up, enhanced, and checked for photoshop by the masses and fact-checkers alike. Sure enough, what looked like an engagement band was spotted on her ring finger. The topic was trending within the hour. Mainstream entertainment news entities had articles published and segments produced for TV the very same day.

People couldn't believe it. Marin Kitagawa was flawless. Beautiful. Probably the perfect woman. Was there any human being on the planet that could even hope to measure up to what she would surely want in a romantic partner? Especially to the point where she was comfortable with marriage? Did such a person even exist?

Marin, PR-trained pro that she was, wouldn't give in to the vast multitude of questions she was barraged with about her fiancé. Was it a model? Someone she had worked with before? When was the wedding? Question after question, and still Marin wouldn't give in. Despite the noise, the engagement band remained on her finger. As if to taunt the reporters with the idea that they would know, but never know exactly.

People speculated and theorized. Editors sent their best and brightest to try and solve the mystery. Bachelors and bachelorettes mourned their minuscule chance with her that had just been ripped out, stomped on, and set on fire. Still, for a time, the world had been united in curiosity.

They had to know—who could Marin Kitagawa possibly be dating?

"It's totally him," one model deduced, pointing her finger to the magazine cover clutched in her other hand. "Ari Simons, the guy from Europe. He came in for a shoot a few months ago, before this was released. They were modeling together for Givenchy, I think? Doesn't matter."

She leaned in, voice lowering. "They were talking to each other for like, the entire shoot. Full-blown conversations, laughing and smiling and all that jazz. And I know what you're gonna say—Marin's friendly with literally everyone ever, so of course she'd chat up a coworker. But, like, this was different. I could feel it. The chemistry, you know? It was like that stuff you read in romance novels."

"And—I can't really confirm this, but I'm close to ninety percent certain this happened—I'm pretty sure they got dinner together afterwards. Not the fancy stuff, but an udon place. Udon!" She gesticulated wildly with her arms to emphasize the point. "Crazy, right? Do you know how comfortable you have to be with someone to take them out on a date at an udon shop? Someone you've been seeing for a long time, that's who."

She relaxed a little, reclining back into her chair. "Look, I'm not gonna pretend to know everything about Marin's private life. 'Cause I don't. She's entitled to her own privacy, obviously. But I like to think I'm a solid judge of romantic and sexual tension. Those two had that in spades."

She put a finger against her head knowingly. "And just think about it! Choosing to be a power couple is super lucrative from a financial standpoint. Remember Brangelina? Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Those two probably made more money than they know what to do with." She waved her hand dismissively. "No, I don't care about the divorce. Marin and Ari would be together forever, anyway. Society loves a good power couple, and it's hard to imagine a more powerful couple than two of the biggest models in the world."

Leaning back, the model composed herself a bit. "You're not the first person I've told all this to, but each time I hear myself say it, the more I believe it. It just feels like fate, you know?"

She pointed at the camera. "You're filming this, right? Save this video for the wedding. I want everybody at that reception to know that Nina Davis-Kucherov was the first person with the Marin scoop."

Her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, you don't even have to do anything to her name to make it a ship name! Ari, Marin, it's already in her name!" Nina chuckled to herself. "God, that's genius. I'm trademarking that."

"She's gay," one photographer said simply, taking a quick puff of his cigarette. "Totally. Bet me any amount, I'd raise you. She's one-million percent into women, and I've never been more certain of anything in my life. Ever."

A question was asked off-screen, and he snorted in response. "Why? You think there's any man on this planet who could satisfy a woman like her? If there is, I'd sure like to fuckin' meet him."

Another puff. "I've worked with her before, a handful of times. I've seen how she operates around coworkers, and I'm telling you, it's different when it comes to women. She's such an absolute fan, knows so many things about them, if she wasn't who she was you'd think she was a stalker. She can name damn near an entire woman's portfolio. Their most recent shoot, their most successful shoot, their first shoot. It's scary—Marin's fuckin' scary."

"Beyond that," he continued. "She already knows a solid amount of these girls. Worked with 'em before in teen mags, or met them at social gatherings, or whatever the fuck models like her do in their free time. Damn near the entire modeling world is a friend of a friend of Marin's. I know you're not supposed to fuck your coworkers, but hey? Spend the amount of time Marin has with people she's worked with, especially when they're supermodels, and you're bound to catch feelings eventually. S'only natural. Anyone in her situation would probably experience the same thing."

He backtracked a little. "Don't get me wrong, Marin's great. Real nice girl, very professional. Buys the entire crew lunch during our shoots, that's really cool of her. But I know what my eyes saw. She prefers chicks over dicks. Couldn't be more obvious if she yelled out how much she loves box mid-shoot."

His eyes narrowed as another question was asked. "Simons? What about Ari Simons?"

Another beat, before he scoffed. "No fuckin' way. Simons is way too much of a pushover for Marin, that I can guarantee. I mean this as respectfully as possible—Simons is a pussy. Dude's built like an overgrown twig. Guy probably can't even cook for himself, much less for someone like her."

His expression turned into one of disbelief. "Nina told you that shit about Simons? What the fuck does she know about anything? If she wasn't a model, she'd be one of those caked-up gossips you see on those AM celebrity talk shows. If there's anything I've learned from working with Nina for as long as I have, it's that she loves a good runaround."

He waved his cigarette around as a thought came to him. "Matter of fact, I bet she's the one shacking up with Marin. She's only peddling the Simons bullshit just to keep you and the rest of the journos off her trail. She's playing you all like fiddles."

Looking directly into the camera, he pointed a finger directly into the lens. "I hope you see this Nina, you fuckin' sneak. I'm onto you. You might have the rest of those idiots in the media fooled, but you're not gonna pull a fast one like that over me. I wish you and Marin the very best, but I hope you know that I was on this from the very start."

He gestured to his own camera, slung over his back. "And one more thing—remember last year's New Year's accident? I'm calling that favor in. I better be taking photos at your wedding. And I better be getting paid."

The door opened marginally, and the smell hit before the sight. "You're alone, right?" A voice quickly asked in a hushed tone from within the seedy apartment.

A moment passed and an answer was given, before the door opened halfway. "Hurry, get in. I don't want anyone else sneaking pictures of this." Quickly following the figure inside, the door was promptly shut once again. The camera took a moment to adjust to the light, or lack thereof.

"You're lucky I'm showing this to you," the voice snarked. It belonged to a man with a pudgy face and what was at least an attempt at facial hair along his nonexistent jawline. For whatever reason, he was sweating. "I've only been leaking bits and pieces of it on Reddit so far. The people there can't get enough of my content. By the time you publish your little story, I'll have even more threads to uncover to my audience."

Entering a room, a large wall was presented directly across from the entrance, decorated with pictures, news clippings, and headshots. Red threads connected certain faces to certain clippings, and vice-versa. Sticky notes were slapped at what looked like random spots along the wall, with comments in dark red sharpie plastered squarely on the notes.

"Alright," the man clapped his hands together, motioning to the massive wall. "Here it is. The most comprehensive throughline of the Marin Kitagawa engagement story since the news broke. Every fact, every rumor, all in one place."

He pointed to the most central picture, a regular headshot of Marin Kitagawa. "So, the news about the engagement broke on the afternoon of May 5th, as I'm sure you're aware of. Marin was seen out in public on May 4th, and from the photos taken on that day, she wasn't wearing her engagement ring. Based on that, we can assume that she accepted her engagement on the night of May 4th."

He directed his finger to a post-it note with the words "May 4th" circled in bright red. "Now, May 4th is a bit of an unusual time to get engaged. Around thirty-five percent of couples typically get engaged in the holiday season, from October to December. Another fifteen percent get engaged on Valentine's Day. So, that's fifty percent of couples. If you're gonna get engaged at any time outside of those two time frames, it's often deliberate. So why May 4th?"

The next image he tapped was a photo printout of Darth Vader. "Easy. Star Wars day."

"With that in mind, we can safely deduce that Marin's mystery lover is probably a nerd. People talk about how it was maybe done on the fourth to get it in before celebrating Cinco de Mayo, but Marin has never once shown any indication of going out of her way to celebrate that particular holiday, and she is on the record in saying that she's a fan of the prequels. So, she's a nerd. It would make sense that her significant other would have the awareness and sense of humor to propose to her on that specific day, then."

The camera's attention was then turned to a photo of a very attractive blonde man crossed out in a big, red 'X.' "That automatically rules out Ari Simons, who was confirmed to have turned down a leading role in a Star Wars spinoff this past December. Any suitor for Marin that shares her tastes wouldn't dream of turning down that kind of gig. And Marin stated in June of last year that she'd prefer a partner with the same kind of interests as her, lending credibility to the assumption that it isn't Simons, or any other major modeling figure."

More crossed-out celebrities. "With so many eliminated candidates, especially of the celebrity variety, there's a very real chance that Marin's lover is a normal, regular person. And while that is a very enlightening idea, that also substantially widens the potential pool of suitors. So, that essentially leaves us finding a very lucky needle in a very large haystack. That is the wall I am currently attempting to scale—searching through every available piece of information and media to try and find a throughline to follow. I already have some potential leads, but nothing concrete yet."

He shrugged. "Will I find anything in the immediate future? Unlikely, barring something as unlikely as an outright confession or a shocking piece of evidence. But a true investigator never falters. And as a devout researcher, it's up to me to try and exhaust each and every possible outcome to find the truth in this entire charade."

The man's eyes burned with determination. "The world has to know—who the hell did Marin Kitagawa get engaged to?"

The young man steadied his hand, took a breath, and eased his brush across the porcelain for what felt like the millionth time.

There was almost a palpable tension as he worked. He kept careful attention to the pressure his hand applied—his last effort had seen the eyebrows far too large and smushed. His prior effort before that had been critiqued for the eyebrows being too thin and uneven. And the time before that, the left eyebrow has been the former, and the right the latter.

With a near surgical precision, he let his hand travel at a snail's pace, minding his hand's positioning and his own breathing. Once finished with the eyebrows, he moved on to the various details—lipstick, blush, everything that would make her beautiful. As beautiful as he could manage, anyway.

He paused after finishing, wiping a bead of sweat from his chin. No masterpiece, but it was an improvement. The lines were even, and he'd gotten the sizes and curves right by his standards. He'd maybe flubbed the final edge of the right eyebrow, but the left one looked great.

Despite himself, Wakana Gojou felt a small grin taking over his face. There was no better reward on the planet than the feeling of meaningful progress.

In the eyes of his grandfather, when it came to artistry, commitment and repetition would eventually drive him to mastery. As a youth, he'd taken the wise old man's words to heart and kept at it. If there was any free time he managed away from the shop and school, it was spent honing his chosen craft. Things had, of course, changed in high school, but that had been a consequence of circumstance. Or, in the words of his grandpa, "the best thing to ever happen to you."

Feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through him, Wakana took a breath. It had been a while since he'd felt this good, this eager. He'd been due for a little hot streak, relishing the feeling of his hand itching slightly. He returned his brush to his hand and set another blank doll's face in front of him, readying himself for another go at it.

Right before he put the brush to porcelain, a faint jingling sound came from the front door. His grandfather had already left for a trip to Hokkaido with his cousin a few days ago, which left one suspect. A new type of adrenaline took over, enough to make him put his brush down and head downstairs to greet her.

He arrived right as she entered. The door slid open, and so entered the best thing to ever happen to him.

"Wakanaaa!" Marin Kitagawa called, grinning that familiar, excited smile. It grew when her eyes landed on him. "Hey, you."

"Hey, Marin," Wakana returned the smile, a familiar heat rising to his cheeks as her smile lingered on him. "Welcome back."

"It's good to be back," Marin agreed, black heels clacking along the entrance floor before being promptly removed from her feet. Wakana took her coat and a garment cover bag from her, hanging both as he spoke to her. "How was work?"

"Ugh," she answered, smile disappearing. "The location was cold, the food was bleh, and we should have wrapped an hour ago." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Also, I'm like, ninety percent sure one of the photographers called me fat."

Wakana frowned as he hung her coat on the rack. "That's mean. You're not fat."

"I know, right? A girl eats three meat buns and all of sudden I'm apparently some unprofessional slob! Maybe I wouldn't have had to eat that much if the food on-site was, you know, actually edible!"

The life of a model was never easy, Wakana was reminded. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you okay?"

Marin sighed, letting the tension release from her shoulders. "Yeah, it's whatever. I'm over it." Her smile returned. "Especially now that you're here."

She spread her arms, and Wakana happily welcomed the ensuing embrace. The force behind Marin's hug belied her shorter stature against his own frame. "I missed you," she spoke softly into his shirt.

"I missed you too," Wakana reciprocated. Marin let the hug linger, not that he had any qualms with it. After a moment, she finally released him, content. For now.

Wakana looked behind her, peering at and through the sliding door entrance. "Nobody, uh, followed you, right?"

Marin rolled her eyes, dropping her purse off near the stairs. "Pssh, as if. If there were any paparazzi, I ditched them after changing lines for the third time. Nobody followed me here, promise."

"That's good," Wakana sighed, relieved. The thought of media and photographers outside of the shop was enough to put him perpetually on edge. He didn't doubt Marin, but one could never be too sure.

"Yeah, so don't worry your pretty little head about it," Marin waved off, heading off into the living room. "Anyway, what's for dinner? All that sneaking around has me starving."

Wakana felt a smile creep up on him. "What, three meat buns weren't enough?"

"I heard that, mister!"

Dinner was quick, as expected. Marin often made a point of saying she could put down any of Wakana's cooking no matter the quantity, and Wakana honestly believed her. Not eager to test her theory tonight, they'd migrated into Wakana's room after an easy dinner, Marin helping herself to his casual wear.

One of Marin's first "big girl" purchases after turning to modeling full-time had been her gift to Wakana for his 21st birthday—a massive TV that looked incredibly out of place in Wakana's traditional, barebones room. The huge screen took up a good chunk of the area adjacent to Wakana's work bench, and though he'd had it for a good while now, it still surprised him occasionally when he entered his room.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it, though. Gaudy as it was, it really was of exceptional quality. Wakana never knew things could look so vivid. The sound came through nicely, too. Though, it presently served as nothing more than white noise for the ranting coming from his left.

"So, the second trip this week was whatever, everybody's famous, big brand shooting for four days, yada yada," the speed with which Marin blitzed through her sentences made forming any kind of response difficult. "The first trip, though? Oh my god, don't even get me started on the first trip!"

That was about as obvious as a cue as any to get her started on the first trip. "What happened on the first trip?"

"Okay, so get this! You remember Kiriko, right?"

The name sounded familiar. "Your, uh... manager, right?"

"Yeah!" Marin confirmed. "So, she calls me a few weeks ago telling me about this potential sit-down with a big-time publication she might be able to swing. I'm thinking, 'Yeah, whatever, it's probably that ten essentials thing with GQ she told me about not too long ago, cool.' We flew out to whatever it was last week." Marin leaned forward conspiratorially. "Guess what it was?"

Wakana didn't have a clue. "Not the thing with GQ?"

Marin shook her head. "It was another full-length feature article!"

Wait a second. "Didn't you already do that?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Marin threw her arms up in the air, exasperated. "Apparently, Variety hit up my manager and talked about wanting to do a real deep-dive feature. More on the present than the past, according to them." Putting up air quotations, she added in a mocking voice, "'how does Marin Kitagawa cope with the fame?'"

"I thought your first feature was pretty good," Wakana added softly.

Marin shrugged. "It was alright. They were hunting for quotes, but I got some decent money out of it." Wakana didn't doubt that. Marin's definition of "decent money" amounted to a small fortune in his eyes.

"They had you there for three days?" Wakana asked.

Marin didn't look very pleased with the fact. "Oh my god, yes. The same questions, rephrased and asked again, over and over. It's so exhausting. I thought I was getting interrogated."

"They're just trying to do their job," Wakana argued in defense.

"I know, and I get it, but at some point there isn't anything left for them to ask about!" Her expression was disbelieving. "And get this! They only asked one question about my cosplay background—one! As if that isn't the absolute coolest thing about me!"

Wakana believed it, but then again, he wasn't sure how popular cosplay was in the mainstream modeling scene. Were there even big-time models on Marin's level that did that kind of thing? Considering everything he knew about the world of modeling had been forced upon him by Marin, he wasn't sure he cared enough to find out.

Still, it sounded like she'd had an eventful (or painfully uneventful) trip. He was glad she still had enough energy to swing by and rant to him. "Well, in any case, I'm glad you're back."

And just like that, all traces of fatigue left Marin's face as she leaned into him with a smile. "I'm glad to be back too." Marin kept her head on his shoulder as they settled for a brief silence watching TV, Wakana content to enjoy his girlfriend's presence in his room.

Fiancée, not girlfriend, he reminded himself, eyeing the engagement ring on her finger. His stomach still felt queasy thinking about how nervous he'd been leading up to his proposal—and how overjoyed he'd been when she'd said yes.

He was readying himself for a mental trip down memory lane when Marin suddenly stood up. "Oh! I almost forgot, I tried on the cosplay while I was traveling. Got a few notes for you on the fit and stuff. It's downstairs, lemme go get it." She dashed down the stairs, and shortly after returned with the cover bag, unzipped in the front, revealing the outfit within.

It looked like something from an S&M convention. Black in color and elaborate in design, revealing skin in all the wrong (or right) places. A scandalously large boob window in the front, placed above a tight corset. The lower dress portion (if it could even be called that) was more of a miniskirt in the front and a traditional frock in the back, showing what would have been a lot of leg and thigh for whomever would be so bold to wear it.

It was raunchy. It was erotic. It was probably illegal to wear in most places. It was a Wakana Gojou original, and in his opinion, it was one of his finer pieces of work.

"You said you had notes for me?" Wakana asked, turning his attention away from the TV.

Marin grinned in excitement. "Uh, did I say notes? What I meant to say was that it looks freakin' insane, dude! This might be your best one yet!"

Wakana couldn't help the pride that swelled in him. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I know how much you love Shizuku-tan, so I had to really put my all into making this one absolutely perfect."

Indeed, that was what it essentially boiled down to. A return to the very beginning of it all between the two of them—Slippery Girls. Or, more specifically, Saint Slippery's Academy For Girls: NEXT! (the all-caps and exclamation point were indeed part of the title, Marin had adamantly told him), the newest installment in the revered Slippery Girls franchise. While a more saccharine and romance-oriented take on the classic Slippery Girls formula, Slippery Girls NEXT! (or 'S.G.N!', per the official wiki page) still featured all the familiar age-restricted content prevalent in its two predecessors. And with the new rendition came another surprise—new character designs.

Gone was Shizuku-tan's traditional frilly black dress, replaced with something more form-fitting. The easiest way Wakana could describe it was if Shizuku-tan's gothic-lolita motif met traditional maid's garb… if traditional maids had humiliation kinks and unprofessionally massive heart-shaped boob windows.

Marin had been upset about the change at first ("How could they ruin the perfect girl?!" She'd wailed through a flood of tears), before getting over it literally a day later. She'd eventually taken to the new design so much that it was a foregone conclusion that she'd want to cosplay it. They'd gone to work almost immediately, and he'd gotten her the mostly-finished product exactly one week ago.

The only thing really left to do was detail the headpiece, but all of her other accessories were ready to go—including her trademark chains. Wakana was beyond happy that Marin had found nothing wrong with it.

"Okay, there is maybe one thing." Or not, as Marin's tone suddenly turned serious. "Can you take a quick look at this part?" She pointed to a spot of fabric near the chest area. "The bust feels a little tight, but only around the sideboob. It's, like, really weird. I've never had that happen with an outfit of yours before."

An internal switch was flipped, and Wakana Gojou was fully engaged. "Is it a problem with the fabric? Or the sizing?" Gojou wondered aloud, carefully eyeing and tracing his fingers along the material. "You haven't washed it or done anything rigorous with it, have you?"

"Nope. Only tried it on the one time."

Wakana hummed in acknowledgment. After a moment, he turned and opened a drawer, pulling out a notepad and inspecting the mass of written numbers and information. "Maybe I got the measurement wrong? It seems pretty consistent with past results…. oh, but maybe I forgot to account for the separate pieces in this particular design. The corset does make everything a little tighter around the front."

Marin returned to her feet. "If it's a re-measurement you need, I'm game. Never hurts to be totally sure, right?"

"Right," Wakana agreed. A quick search for his measuring tape, and he was ready. "Are you comfortable taking off your shirt?"

"Uh, who do you think you're talking to?" In less than a second, Marin's shirt was tossed aside, revealing a colorful bikini top. She'd come prepared.

Wakana took a breath. While he'd more than accustomed himself to the sight of Marin Kitagawa clad in revealing clothing (or nothing at all, in recent years), he still couldn't help the heat that overtook his face. At the very least, he could maintain his voice. "Alright. Excuse me, then."

Careful not to touch more than was absolutely necessary, Wakana carefully looped his arms around Marin, before pressing the measuring tool gently against the curve of her back. Pulling softly, he guided the tape beneath her outstretched arms, linking the two ends at the front of her top. When he was certain the tape wasn't either too loose or too tight, he observed the number he arrived at.

"Huh," he noted aloud. "Same result. Are you sure you put the outfit on right? Or maybe I need to measure the—"

"Whoops," Marin interrupted in the most monotonous tone of voice he'd ever heard from her, before he felt her weight suddenly tip forward. All Wakana could register was the fact that Marin was falling and that he'd lost his grip on the tape. Collapsing onto his back, he thankfully fell in the comfort of his own futon, Marin now atop him.

Or rather, Marin's… loose definition of beachwear atop him. His face, specifically. And somehow, he could feel it getting looser and looser, until the fabric was gone entirely, tossed aside and replaced by something much more human and fleshy.

"Oh, shucks," Marin drawled, her hands suddenly finding purchase on Wakana's head, keeping him still as he started to squirm from the proximity. "I guess I just happened to fall over, right on top of you. And I guess we just happened to fall on your futon. And I also guess my top just happened to fall off. Ain't that just the weirdest thing?"

"Mrrphmf," the voice of an occupied Wakana Gojou attempted to communicate. In response, the sultry smile on Marin Kitagawa's face grew. "Oh, you naughty boy. Don't speak with your mouth full."

It took a lot more force than Wakana would be willing to admit to free himself from the softest prison he'd ever enjoyed. "M-Marin!"

"Yes, my love?" Marin replied innocently.

"You didn't... lie about the outfit just to mess with me, did you?"

Marin donned a totally-not-guilty look. Because she wasn't. "Maaaybe."

"Marin…" Wakana sighed gently. "You actually had me concerned about the cosplay."

"Oh, ease up, Wakana! You're no fun!" Marin softly ran her hands through Wakana's hair, though with enough force to ensure his attention remained on her. "I haven't seen you in a week! A whole seven days! My first time seeing you in that long, and you think I'm gonna waste precious us-time on an outfit I already know is perfect in literally every way possible?"

Never mind how nice it was to hear her complete and unwavering faith in his ability to make outfits that satisfied her. Regardless of how long it had been since they'd first started their partnership. "You could have just said what you wanted outright." Because if there was one thing to know about Marin Kitagawa, it was that she was never one to conceal her honesty.

The borderline predatory grin she gave him in response quickly reminded him that it was more than her honesty that she was disinclined to conceal. "And where's the fun in that, darling?"

Very quickly did she have him pinned, straddling him with an ease born from experience. And as bare breasts hovered over his person, and almost glowing red eyes bored into him, Wakana couldn't help but feel like he was back in high school, with the surge of excited nerves that were brought forth in response to this exact girl.

"I missed you," Marin said softly. Wakana could easily feel the truth and fervor in that simple phrase. He settled for responding with what she probably already knew. "I missed you too, Marin."

Her smile grew, and he could almost feel how happy she was to hear him say that. She leaned in closer. "Kiss me?" She asked, but Wakana wasn't foolish enough to interpret it as anything other than a demand.

Still, he was a bit occupied at the moment. "You're kind of on top of me."

"Oh. Haha, you're right!" Marin's eyes lidded as her lips drew near. "Clumsy me."

While it was far from their first kiss, this one was making a solid run for the most intense. Marin wasted no time on foreplay, eagerly invading his mouth with a forceful tongue. Wakana, recognizing a futile effort when he saw one, was content to let Marin have her fill of him. Still, playing the part of the dutiful boyfriend, he decided to indulge her, fighting back every so often as to create the illusion of a passionate struggle. His bout of assertiveness prompted a few moans from his partner, Marin only too happy to fall deeper into her lover's gentle yet firm embrace.

After what felt like hours, they separated, breathing heavily. Marin had yet to lose her elated smile. "Mm... mama likes."

Wakana rolled his eyes. "How romantic."

"Cheeky," Marin teased, an acrylic nail poking his face gently. "What happened to that sweet, shy Gojou-kun that blushed and stammered every time I got a little naked around him?"

"You got engaged to him."

Marin giggled happily. "I did, didn't I?" Seemingly spurred by the memory, she returned for another round of kisses, just as intense as the last. Her breaths were heavy, her face flushed with need and excitement.

And Wakana couldn't help but feel the same, watching as her breasts swayed hypnotically above him.

"Your grandpa's gone, right?" Marin asked, slowly rubbing her backside against his waist. It took Wakana more effort than he'd like to answer. "Mmf... yes, he's in Hokkaido..."

"And so is your cousin?" A nod this time from Wakana, forgoing a verbal response entirely. Marin's sultry grin nearly split her face. "So, just me and my handsome doll craftsman tonight."

Her hand trailed down his chest, sneaking inside his samue and into his pants. Her hand brushed against him, and it took all Wakana had not to groan in pleasure.

"So," Marin whispered throatily, pressing her mouth against his ear. "Why don't you show me just how much you missed me, hm?"

All thoughts of Shizuku-tan and cosplay tossed aside, Wakana was more than happy to oblige his fiancée.

Forget maybe—that was definitely their most intense coupling yet.

Wakana's everything felt sore. He needed water. He really needed a shower—he was absolutely drenched in sweat. Though, he wasn't exactly sure how much of it was his. Marin had worked up a fair amount herself throughout their little escapade, and she hadn't been shy about sharing, throughout all the grabbing and twisting and... whatever else they did. He'd lost track at some point.

On the topic of the little succubus, she was beaming brightly, shining in the afterglow of sex. "That. Was. Amazing," she breathed out, starstruck. "You were an animal, Wakana!"

He was an animal? A gazelle, maybe. Which would have made her a lion, considering how she'd nearly eaten him alive. 'In more ways than one,' Wakana thought with a small blush.

What possessed Marin to stop, he wasn't sure. She looked like she could have gone for another two hours, not counting the non-stop hour of sex they'd just had. She propped her head up with her arm, gazing at him lovingly. Her face was similarly flushed, but that hardly compared to the satisfied smile on her face.

Still, he couldn't deny it... it had felt great. Marin was always talking about how their compatibility had always been high (something about star signs), and if this was the end result, he would be very inclined to agree with her. Sex with Marin had always been great, but tonight had been nothing short of mind-blowing.

And to think, he'd gotten engaged to this woman. That almost got him smiley and giddy all over again.

"Thanks," Wakana eventually found enough oxygen to form a response to her compliment. "You were even better, though."

"Oh, stop it, you," Marin laughed, her gaze suddenly hiding from his. Wakana could have laughed—now she chose to be shy and modest? Immediately once that thought crossed his mind, however, she added softly, "you're gonna make me come back for seconds, stud."

The mind was so, so willing, but the body was less so. "Can we at least wait until I can feel my waist again?"

This time, Marin's face did burn almost entirely red. "I wasn't that rough, was I?"

"You were an animal, Marin."

"Ohmygod, stop!" Marin lightly bopped his chest, before snuggling into him with a pout. Wakana could have died happy.

Allowing his breathing to stabilize and his body to cool off, Wakana wrapped an arm around Marin and relaxed. It was a quiet few minutes until he heard a soft sound from his left—giggling.

Wakana looked down. "Something up?"

"Nothing," Marin quickly denied, staring off somewhere. Judging by the content smile, it clearly wasn't nothing. "It's just... we're getting married!" She entered another mad fit of giggles, nuzzling her head into the side of his chest like a lunatic.

"Last I checked," Wakana cracked, attempting to keep his cool. Choosing to act like it wasn't immensely thrilling to know that Marin was just as obsessed with the idea of getting married as he was.

"Me! And you! My crush for, like, ever!" She was full on cackling at this point. "We get to do this all the time, for the rest of our lives!"

And wasn't that just an exciting thought to put in his head. Was round two still on the table?

Though, as nice as it was to imagine, he couldn't have his blushing bride-to-be getting any misconceptions about their future life together. He hated to dampen the mood, but it needed to be said. "Well, not all the time. You still have work, remember?"

Marin deflated. "Ugh, I know."

"And I still have my obligations for the shop."

"Yeah..."

"And we're both adults now, too. There are plenty of other responsibilities we need to start thinking about. For one, we need to call insurance to see if we're eligible for a discounted rate—"

"You just gave your supermodel fiancée the best fuck of her life, and the first thing you think about afterward is insurance?" Marin deadpanned. Wakana grimaced. When she put it like that...

Marin sighed, wrapping her arms even tighter around his frame. "I know, it can't be like this literally all the time. But... you know what I mean."

Wakana felt a little bad. Maybe now wasn't the best time to bring all that boring life stuff up. "Sorry, I know it sucks. It's just... you know how I am."

"I know." Marin angled herself up, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "You're my jumpy, dorky goober. It's sweet that you're already thinking so far ahead." She smiled. "You know I love that about you."

Wakana feigned a hurt expression. "I thought you loved everything about me?"

"What gave that away?" Marin laughed, a bit of her smoldering gaze returning. "The fact I let you fuck me whenever you want? Or that I let you cum inside every time?"

Now he really felt like his shy, high school self again. "M-Marin..."

"There's my shy, adorable Gojou-kun," Marin sang. Really, Wakana should have known not to test the woman that intimately knew all of his buttons, and how exactly to push them.

She settled back beside him, her tone returning to normal. "But yeah, I get it. As much as I can't wait to start married life, I know it won't be all sunshine and rainbows. My job's only ever gonna get busier, and I don't doubt you'll become the best hina doll craftsman this side of Japan." She smiled ruefully. "Soon, we might even get too busy to do our cosplay together."

That was a dour thought. Thankfully, Marin didn't let him linger on it for too long. "But hey, if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you? I can live with that." She regained her sunny expression. "And hey, if there's anything I know about my Wakana, it's that you can pull a top-tier cosplay out of your butt during the busiest of times."

Wakana conceded the point with a shrug. "I do my best."

"That's what I'll give, too," Marin agreed. Her hand found his, and she squeezed tenderly. "'Till death do us part, and all that."

Wakana rolled his eyes. "Were we not saving the vows for the ceremony?"

"We just fucked like we were consummating," Marin smirked. "I don't see the harm."

How she made him blush like a schoolgirl even after years of dating, he'd never know. "You're ridiculous."

"You love it." Marin giggled, and as he felt her engagement ring press against him, he couldn't help but agree.

He thought the conversation was over until a thought suddenly crossed his mind. He knew he said he'd leave the serious stuff for later, but... "Hey, Marin?"

"Mhm?"

"When do I, uh... go public?"

Marin gave him a look. "Uh, never?"

Wakana gave her a look in return. "Marin, I don't know how much longer we can keep our relationship a secret. I'm pretty sure the entire world knows you're engaged."

"And I don't care," Marin dismissed. "As if I'd let the paparazzi come and harass you and the store at any given moment. I know the media, Wakana—once they find out about you, and what you are to me, they'll never leave you alone."

He didn't doubt that, but still. "It's gonna happen eventually."

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Marin's expression was suddenly fierce. Her hold on his hand tightened, almost painfully. "And some of the people I work with... yeah, it'll be a cold day in hell before I let those sluts even come near you."

Wakana's eyebrow quirked. "I thought you got along with everybody?"

"Babe, I'm a professional. I go out, I get shit done, I get paid, and I leave. I can say whatever I want in the comfort of my own home."

"Technically, this is my home."

"Maybe a security detail could work," Marin ignored him, muttering to herself in rapid succession. "When we eventually get our own place, I wanna make sure we can live without being spied on. But then again, it'd be awkward having to fuck with random people outside... ugh, this is so annoying..."

Wakana sighed. Her priorities were a little mixed, but her heart was in the right place. He could have done a lot worse for a wife.

Wife. Marin Kitagawa, his wife. Smiling all over again, he suddenly got the feeling that everything would work itself out. For as carefree and spontaneous as his fiancée was, she was unstoppable when she put her mind to something. In both her public and private lives.

And if the media never found out who it was that the world-renowned Marin Kitagawa was dating? Well, all the better for them, he supposed.

I wanted to get this out on Valentine's Day, but at the time of my writing this, it's an hour past midnight on the East Coast. Still kinda counts, right?

I really, really like Dress-Up Darling. Overall quality aside, I think the dynamic between Wakana and Marin is adorable. It's been a while since I've shipped any two characters as hard as I've shipped them. It has also been a while since I've written a romance-oriented one-shot. My last one was back in 2017, a little over six years ago. Still, I started writing this a few months ago, and after a bit of workshopping, this is the result.

Have I read the manga? No. Am I taking a lot of liberties with the limited knowledge about the source material available to me? Yes. Did I enjoy the hell out of writing this? You bet your ass I did. And I hope you all enjoyed reading this just as much.

Happy (belated) Valentine's. To all the couples, enjoy yourselves. To all the single folks out there; hey, it could be worse—you could have spent your Valentine's Day writing fanfiction.

Peace and love,

~Slalem