they see you in a wedding dress for the first time
the three of you had been together for eight years. from high school sweethearts to adults navigating life side by side, you had seen each other grow, change, struggle, and succeed. six years of living together had only strengthened your bond, turning your home into a place filled with warmth, laughter, and love. and now, after everything—the late-night talks, the quiet moments, the shared dreams—you were finally getting married. in two months, you would officially become theirs, and they would be yours. forever.
planning the wedding had been a joint effort. every decision was made together, from the venue to the flowers to the music that would play as you walked down the aisle. no detail was too small, no moment too insignificant. everything had to be perfect. after all, this wasn’t just a wedding—it was the beginning of something even greater.
and today was another milestone. today, you were trying on your wedding dress for the first time.
you stood on a small, round podium inside a spacious fitting room, the soft lighting casting a gentle glow on your reflection in the full-length mirror. the dress hugged your body perfectly, the delicate fabric cascading down in elegant folds. it had been custom-made just for you, every stitch and detail crafted with care. the intricate embroidery shimmered under the light, subtle yet breathtaking, designed to complement you in every way.
behind you, a thick curtain separated you from the waiting area where your fiancés were sitting. they had been patient—mostly. knowing them, they were probably bouncing their legs in anticipation, barely restraining themselves from barging in to see you. they had been involved in every step of the design process, eager to make sure you had the dress of your dreams. still, they hadn’t seen the final product. this was supposed to be a surprise.
the seamstress, a kind older woman who had been adjusting the fabric, took a step back and smiled at you warmly. “you’re glowing,” she said softly, admiration clear in her voice.
you felt warmth rise in your chest at her words. “thank you,” you murmured, fingers grazing the smooth fabric of your dress.
she gave a knowing smile before asking, “would you like to show them now?”
your heart fluttered. they were waiting for you, just beyond the curtain, eager to see the woman they loved in the dress she would marry them in. you could already imagine their reactions—the stunned silence, the way their eyes would widen, the way they would reach for you like they couldn’t believe you were real.
you nodded. “yeah,” you whispered, barely containing your excitement.
outside the curtain, gojo was a mess of nervous energy. he sat at the edge of his seat, his long leg bouncing restlessly, fingers drumming against his knee. his sunglasses were pushed up into his snowy hair, forgotten in his impatience. every few seconds, he turned his head towards the fitting room as if sheer willpower alone could make you appear faster.
beside him, geto looked more composed—at least on the surface. he leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, arms resting lazily on the armrest. but his dark eyes were locked on the curtain, unwavering, betraying his calm exterior. every time gojo sighed dramatically or shifted in his seat, geto shot him a glance, but he wasn’t much better. his fingers tapped against the wood of the chair, subtle but insistent, betraying his own impatience.
“she’s taking forever,” gojo muttered under his breath, pushing his hair back.
“it hasn’t even been five minutes,” geto replied, but there was a slight edge to his voice.
gojo groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “what if she looks so pretty i pass out? i wasn’t prepared for that.”
geto smirked, finally turning his head to glance at him. “that would be embarrassing. i’d have to marry her alone.”
gojo gasped, hand over his heart. “rude. at least let me wake up before the vows.”
before geto could respond, the curtain rustled. their banter stopped instantly. gojo’s leg stilled. geto’s relaxed posture stiffened slightly. both pairs of eyes locked onto the movement, breaths held as anticipation buzzed in the air.
standing under the soft boutique lighting, your wedding dress hugging your figure perfectly, you looked ethereal. the delicate fabric cascaded down, pooling elegantly at your feet, and the embroidery shimmered subtly with each shift of movement. but it wasn’t just the dress. it was you. the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes searched for theirs with that teasing glint, the way you smiled—soft, knowing, radiant.
for the first time in his life, gojo was speechless.
his mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. the ever-talkative, ever-loud satoru gojo sat frozen in place, blue eyes blown wide. his hands, which had been resting on his knees, clenched into fists as if grounding himself.
geto, on the other hand, reacted differently. his lips parted, but unlike gojo, he actually managed to speak. just barely.
“...fuck.” his voice came out lower, rougher, like the sight of you had just knocked the air out of his lungs.
your smile widened as you stepped forward, the soft rustling of fabric the only sound in the room for a few seconds. the weight of their gazes was enough to make your skin tingle.
“so?” you teased lightly, tilting your head. “what do you think?”
gojo finally moved. he shot up from his chair so fast it scraped against the floor. his hands ran through his hair before covering his face, like he needed to physically hold himself together.
“you—" he exhaled sharply, voice slightly strained. "you can’t just do that to me.”
geto stood up more gracefully, though his steps were just as urgent as he closed the distance between you. unlike gojo, who still looked like he was trying to process the situation, geto recovered faster. his hand reached for yours, fingers brushing over your knuckles before holding them gently.
“you’re breathtaking.” his voice was steady, but his eyes held something deeper—something almost reverent.
gojo finally lowered his hands, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear his vision. and then, suddenly, he groaned loudly, throwing his head back.
“shit—i’m gonna cry. i don’t cry. i never cry.” he turned to geto, smacking his arm. “why didn’t you prepare me for this?”
geto huffed out a soft chuckle, still looking at you. “like i was any more prepared?”
gojo took a deep breath, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. his hands hovered near your waist, hesitant, as if afraid to wrinkle the fabric. but his eyes were soft, filled with something so raw and unfiltered that it made your heart ache in the best way.
“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
your chest tightened at his words, at the pure sincerity in his voice. before you could respond, he let out a choked laugh, shaking his head.
“how the hell am i supposed to stand at the altar and not lose my mind when i see you walking toward me?”
geto squeezed your hand. “we’ll just have to suffer through it together.”
you laughed, warmth blooming in your chest. “well,” you teased, voice light, “at least now you have time to prepare.”
gojo huffed, eyes flickering between you and geto before exhaling dramatically. “nope. doesn’t matter. i’ll still lose it.”
his hands finally settled on your waist, his grip firm yet careful. geto, still holding your hand, lifted it to press a slow, lingering kiss to your knuckles.
gojo stared at you for a long time, unmoving, completely lost in the sight of you. his bright blue eyes traced over every little detail—how the dress hugged your body perfectly, how your skin glowed under the soft lighting, how your expression held that teasing warmth he adored. but more than anything, he saw you—the love of his life, the woman he would be marrying in two months.
his mind betrayed him, fast-forwarding to the wedding day. he imagined himself standing at the altar, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, fidgeting slightly because he had never been this nervous in his entire life. he pictured the moment the doors would open, and there you would be—walking toward him, wearing a delicate veil over your face, the very same wedding dress that was now stealing his breath away.
your makeup, carefully done, enhancing every feature he already loved. your hands, steady but excited, clutching onto the bouquet. your lips, curled into the most beautiful smile, the one meant just for him.
and just thinking about it—just imagining that moment—his chest tightened in a way he couldn’t control.
before he could even stop himself, a single tear slipped down his cheek. then another. and another.
“oh, shit,” he whispered, quickly wiping at his face with the sleeve of his sweater. but it was useless. the tears kept coming, completely unrestrained.
geto, still holding your hand, turned to look at him and sighed. “you’re crying already?”
“shut up,” gojo choked out, rubbing his eyes aggressively. “this is—this is your fault.” he pointed at you, voice trembling slightly. “you did this to me.”
you laughed softly, reaching out to cup his cheek, brushing away the wetness with your thumb. he leaned into your touch instantly, his long lashes damp with unshed tears, his lips trembling.
“i’m not even at the altar yet,” you teased gently. “you’re gonna be a mess on our wedding day.”
“i know,” he groaned dramatically, sniffling. “i’m doomed. i’m gonna look so ugly in all the pictures.”
geto chuckled, shaking his head. “you’ll survive.”
gojo let out a deep breath, trying to pull himself together, but his hands trembled as they held onto your waist, gripping onto you like he needed to keep himself grounded.
“i just—” he took another shaky breath, looking at you like he was seeing the entire universe in your eyes. “i love you so much. and you’re so—so beautiful. i don’t know how i’m gonna handle seeing you like this on our wedding day and not passing out.”
your heart swelled at his words. “then don’t,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “i’ll be right there to catch you.”
he let out a watery laugh, leaning his forehead against yours. “yeah,” he whispered. “yeah, you always are.”
geto sighed, pretending to be unimpressed, but the way he was rubbing slow circles against your palm gave him away. “if he cries this much now, i might have to carry him through the ceremony.”
“you would, right?” gojo sniffled, blinking up at him. “like, if i actually collapsed, you’d help?”
geto sighed, then leaned down to kiss your temple before glancing at gojo with a smirk. “only after taking a few pictures first.”
you burst into laughter, and even through his sniffles, gojo couldn’t help but laugh too, wrapping his arms around you, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.
