#Wait i have to come back to say that i am so so so excited to see where tangledinink is taking things

[gay-dorito-dust]

Ok, it was basically a request where the batboys brought their significant other as their date to a gala for the first time, they leave for a second (to get drinks or go to the bathroom or something to that end) and when they come back the see their S/O being harassed by a group of socialite women that keep talking about how they can’t believe someone like the batboy is with such a plain little nobody. That was the gist of it. Sorry 😣

I kinda made Tim’s as bit different than requested, but I couldn’t help but see him grill an entire household and their business ventures. Then again I kinda took creative liberties with all of them.

Dick

Is the type to put on an extremely strained smile across his face as he puts his arm over your shoulders.

‘What’s wrong my love, why the saddened face?’ He asks you sweetly, intentionally ignoring the rich and powerful in front of you both.

‘Oh don’t worry yourself with…that thing dear Richard, they’re too emotional to be in a room with people they could only dream of being in the presence of. I wouldn’t get so close to it if I were you, you might catch their filth.’ One of them sneered and Dick’s jaw tensed in agitation as his eyes remained on you.

‘Do you wanna leave?’ He says in a whisper as he wipes a tear away from your cheek, lightly pinching it in hopes of seeing you smile at him.

‘Yes please, I want to go home and be with Hayley.’ You whispered back, griping his arms tightly, thankful that his body blocked out the rich people that were berating you. Dick’s face softened as he kissed the top of your head, hoping of giving you some form of comfort in your time of distress, before looking back at the rich people with a faux grin.

‘If you please excuse us, my lovely sweetheart, my beloved cutie and my forever lover wishes to leave this drab place and who am I to deny my love of her wishes, for I shall wait on them hand and for forever if it pleases them so because between you and me?’ He then leans close to them. ‘You don’t have the heart to sacrifice everything for the one you love, if you even have hearts in the first place. You posses no freedom and no personality whatsoever for anyone to love nor adore, them however?’ He points towards you as you look at him with a small smile, a smile so sweet that Dick couldn’t help but smile back.

‘They are my everything. I couldn’t think about living without them, not when they’ve don’t nothing but be kind and respectful of me and my time. I don’t deserve them but neither does this city, they’re an angel in human skin that I wish to worship as long as they’ll let me.’ You could feel your cheeks burn at his words as your smiles widened at the twinkle of love within his gorgeous eyes. Dick had a way with words unlike any other and despite being on the receiving end of them for a while now, you still find yourself becoming alight with emotions because of him.

‘So if you’ll excuse me kindly.’ Dick says as he takes your hand and walks you both out of the door where he stops to look at you with concern.

‘I am so sorry you had to deal with them, apparently money makes someone feel entitled to speaking on someone else’s relationship.’ Dick spat as he glared at the grand double doors and you touched his cheek, making him melt into your touch, kissing your palm.

‘It’s okay Dickie bird, let’s just forget this night and go home, get out of these clothes and into some comfy pyjamas and cuddle on the couch as we watch soaps.’ You say as you attempt to calm him down from his passionate outburst and declaration of love, which seems to work as Dick’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

‘Can we wear the matching pyjamas that I got us and Hayley?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but kiss his lip, finding him too adorable in this moment in time, which is something of a occurrence as you’d soon find as you reflect back on your relationship. ‘Of course my sweetie, of course we can wear matching pyjamas.’ You replied and Dick cheered as he leaned to kiss you fully on the lip, his happiness having been contagious as you smiled into the kiss.

Damian

Wishes Bruce didn’t confiscate the sword from him.

He’s the type who can silence anyone with a single fucking glare. So when he sees that you, his beloved, was being harassed by the elitist snobs.

He’s quick to step in and start berating them himself, all dignity and respect has gone out the window for these cretins don’t deserve an ounce of it as far as he was aware. ‘I don’t believe that my relationships are your concern,’ he begins, ‘you’re not kin and thus should’ve learned at an early age that not every topic of interest requires your out of touch input.’

‘Wha-‘ they tried to say but Damian was back on them with another verbal assault.

‘Also I could hear you from across the room, didn’t your parents or paid teacher teach you about volume control? or did they get paid extra to not say a thing in fear your fragile little ego gets crushed under the harsh truth?’ Damian then spits out as he feels you clinging onto his back, which only fuels his need to berate these vile people as karma.

Damian would be their karma if it was the last thing he did.

The rich people chocked on air, not knowing what to say as it was hard to do so when Damian was staring them down, wanting them to say something, anything so that he could verbally beat them down until they submit. He lives for a verbal spat but unfortunately the people whom he’s up against have never had to fight for their honour and dignity, they just paid people to shut up or have people who encourage their pathetic, self entitled behaviour.

‘Enough, don’t hurt yourself trying to think with whatever’s behind those pompous eyes of yours.’ Damian sneered as he looks to you with a soft look. ‘Let’s go my beloved, I have already informed my father of the situation and has Alfred come pick us up to take us back to the manor.’ He says softly as he takes your hand in his as you both began walking away form the group of gobsmacked rich folks, a sight to behold truly as those entitled Individuals love nothing more then the sound of their own voice.

‘Why’d you do that?’ You asked and Damian looked at you as though you grew a second head.

‘Do what? Defend your honour, is that not what a lover is meant to do?’ He says with a raised brow and you couldn’t help but feel a little silly, of course Damian would defend your honour to the death but still insecurities tend to make you forget his undying loyalty.

‘You’re right I’m sorry, I’m just being a little stupid.’ You replied as you downcast your eyes to the floor and Damian stopped to lift your head up by your chin as his emerald eyes glint with concern. ‘Do not heed their words my treasure, for they lack a love that isn’t in due to money. Ours is genuine, if there’s anyone who has to fear for our relationship it is me for I am not the easiest to deal with at times.’ Damian admits as he lets go of your chin.

‘That’s not true.’ You retorted, holding his cheek in your free hand, caressing his cheek. ‘You’re perfect the way you are! A work in progress in being even more beautiful than before and I’m happy to be by your side and watch you grow into an amazing person dami.’ You add as you kiss his cheek, making him smile softly as he rubs against your hand.

‘See, this is what I’m talking about.’ Damian says softly. ‘You are perfection, a being beyond words and I’d be a fool if I didn’t treasure you entirely.’

Jason

That’s it, you’re leaving.

Jason tried to be civil but it’s hard to be civil with out of touch, tone deaf, Botox having, plastic surgery abusing, elite snobs that couldn’t fucking lace their own shoes because their filthy money had that be someone else’s job.

He’s not fucking staying and neither are you to deal with verbal abuse by people who single handedly have run Gotham into the ground with their shady tactics, personally funding the corrupt police officers, police officers that dare spout words like ‘protect and serve’ as though they know the meaning of the fucking word.

He’s marching over to you and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he’s walking you both out of the room, leaving the elites to talk amongst themselves as he guided you outside where thankfully no elite snob can eavesdrop on either of you.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks you as he holds your face between his hands.

‘No… I want to go home.’ You admitted, their words cutting deeper than you’d ever think imaginable.

Jason felt anger flowing through his veins but he knew that you needed him more then ever at this moment, so shouting at some elite snobs can wait for another day, you were his highest priority as he brought you into his chest and kissing your head. ‘Then we’re going home.’ He says with certainty.

‘What about Bruce?’ You asked, looking at him with tearful eyes, not wanting their relationship to fracture just as it was slowly starting to mend.

Jason shrugged, uncaring of what the old man would think, you got insulted and he wasn’t going to let it slide in the slightest. ‘Fuck Bruce, you’re what matters to me.’ Jason says as he kisses your nose, cheeks and lips softly before resting his head against yours. ‘Now let’s ditch this place and go get ourselves some burgers, how does that sound chipmunk?’

You chuckled. ‘Can we get some fries too.’

‘Of course we can, whatever my sweetheart desires.’ Jason replies as he takes your hand again, this time leading you both out of the grand building in a quest to satiate your feelings with the most greasiest of foods.

Tim

Has the most dirt on the elite in my eyes.

Every scandal, every controversy, every crime they’ve committed and gotten away with by covering it up. He has a file as thick as a book on them and he’s not afraid to use it.

And needless to say that the idea to destroy their reputation was more then tempting then ever when he sees that your being harassed. So when he confronts them on their behaviour, he gets really cryptic about how much he actually knows about these people to such an intimate level.

‘I know what you did.’ He’d say.

‘What are you on about?’ They’d ask, thinking this was all a bit to make them laugh.

‘Friday 12th, 12:55am. The incident that cost workers their lives, families whom of which you’ve failed to compensate for who are now threatening to take you to court before you dealt with them in hush money. All just so it doesn’t leak to the press that you knew what you were dealing with was highly unstable and willingly let those workers in unstable and dangerous working conditions.m Tim watches as their faces drop, preparation visible on their foreheads and he continues on, feeling you squeeze his arm.

‘Only to end up illegally selling the product to unground crime syndicates to make ends meet in due to how much money you’ve initially lost.’ Tim then says in response, watched as their faces become unsettlingly pale as they excuse themselves while exiting the room.

He’ll say or this or just say ‘they are after what they’re owed.’ And leave it at that.

Once he’s satisfied that he’s silenced them and damaged their egos, he looks to you with concerned eyes. ‘Are you okay lovely?’ He asks you as he sees just how small you’ve made yourself because of them.

‘I’m fine Tim thanks to you.’ You said as you hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek as he pats your back before rubbing it soothingly. ‘ I thought they wouldn’t shut up, or follow me whether I went just to degrade me for walking or whether else they could degrade me for.’ You add as you burrowed your head into his neck, wanting to forget this had ever happened.

‘All you need to remember is that they’re more flawed and easier to expose, you however,’ Tim kisses your temple, tightening his hold, ‘are more then they could ever comprehend and have more heart and soul then they do and I couldn’t be prouder to be your partner. Thank you for choosing me.’ He finished.

‘I’d choose you every time Tim.’ You replied.

‘Then expect me to do the same bedside there’s no one else I’d rather have them you.’ Tim promised as you stayed in this embrace for a good while before deciding to leave and watch your favourite show on his laptop for comfort.

[ifwdominicfike]

you try to get guitarist!matt to listen to one taylor swift song since he apparently “hates” her music

── .✦. ──

“matt im telling you, one song wouldn’t hurt you. or are you just too scared you’ll like it?” you felt the chillest breeze outside and decided to play folklore on repeat because who wouldn’t? anyway, matt was fed up with hearing about “some girl complaining about her failed relationships” but you couldn’t care less.

“sweetheart, it’s literally just the same song but about a different guy. she’s too overplayed i don’t get how you like that shit” he scoffs, making his way around the couch. “everyone says that though, you’ve only heard her pop songs that why — her other songs are masterpieces. all of her lyrics are basically me.” you sarcastically say — but not really.

as he sits down on the cushion you scoot your way over to him, laying your head on his shoulder. “pleaseee just one song? i promise you’ll like it, well hopefully i dont know.” you ask with a smile, he lets out a sigh and finally agrees. “yeah sure come on, show me this song then sweetheart.”

you now have the biggest smile on your face and get up from your comfortable position, and turn to make your way to your shared room to grab headphones “wait here” you excitedly say, as if he would vanish the second you were gone.

when you came back with the black bulky headphones he was already looking your way, smiling at your excited state. “this better be good if you’re this happy about this, if i don’t like the song and its some girly girl pop shit, m’clowning your ass for it.” he jokes when putting on the headphones and adjusting them, you were a little nervous — it was obviously something he would never in a million years listen to on his own but he always shows you his music so whats the worst that can happen ?

you figured why not something from your favorite album of hers, folklore. you were going through the tracklist trying to figure out which song until you were pulled out of your thoughts by matt groaning. “come on sweetheart, m’falling asleep over here” he fakes yawns and rubs at his eyes. “shush i have the song ready, now listen its my favorite!”

you click on the song and look up at him to watch his reaction, you obviously can’t hear the music but you already know how it goes “i’ve been having a hard time adjusting, i had the shiniest wheels now they’re rusting.”

as the song continues to play you can see matt swaying a little, you smile when you notice the amusement on his face. the bridge of the song starts up and he stops all movement, listening carefully as the lyrics spew into his ears. he looks over at you in disbelief, jaw dropped as the song now fades out and he’s slipping off the headphones.

“sweetheart thats you’re favorite song?” he says sniffling “well y-yeah? why is it bad?” you ask confused “no, not at all- s’just really fucking sad” he said chuckles before pulling you into a hug “if y’think thats sad then i need to show you more”

“her music s’not that bad i guess..” he says sarcastically “matt please- you were damn near crying i don’t wanna hear it.”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i love folklore. i AM folklore. anywayyy new blurb!!! im so happyyyy i finally finished ONE of my drafts 😭😭

wait omg i forgot to tag you @bluestriips ik you like guitarist!matt !!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott

[mari-lair]

Let's talk about after-school chapter 28!

I had assumed this interaction was what made Teru, our king of pettiness, go "You know what? I think I won't exorcise your evil spirit problem. Perish."

But?? Akane already had stiff shoulders at the start of their talk?? And Akane waited until it was near the end of their student council time to brag about his 'date' with Aoi.

Meaning Teru just let Akane carry the embodiment of stress and hatred on his back during their entire student council time??

I can't fathom why? This was not an 'I trust Akane to handle it' case, not when Teru was the one who enchanted his glasses so he know better than anyone how vulnerable to supernatural Akane becomes with it, and telling myself Teru needed to wait for the supernatural to feed on Akane to grow when this guy is a pro exorcist also feels like an excuse.

Maybeeee Teru was morbidly curious as to how Akane would fight the feeling?

Speculations on the insane decision to let Akane be haunted aside, their conversation is a trainwreck, shout out to how Teru instinct upon hearing Akane got a date is that his buddy is hallucinating.

I get his skepticism tho, pre-severance Akane you are... A lot.

"I love the part of her that invites me to go shopping" Akane, my dear, you need help. I know you're being honest but please find a less awkward way to be a lovesick fool. (---> I say, knowing full well he'll need to go through a traumatic feelies talkies section in Death's house first)

"cya!" is just cute to me. Look at this smug ill-informed dumbass.

"Hey, the flowers behind aoi are different this time," I think in surprise, even tho realistically Akane must associate Aoi with the entire garden at this point.

And here comes the professional thrid well, the prince himself! His mere presence means Teru actually fell for Akane calling the shopping trip a date though, he gives Akane too much credit.

Teru knowing Akane well enough to translate his stammers of a pathetic creature into "Why are you here?" is beautiful, bro is better at his side gig (pester akane) than his main job (be an exorcist) today.

Aoi's "I know a liar when I see one. let's indulge him anyways" she truly is a kind soul.

Speaking of said liar, I love that Teru doesn't have a basket or shopping cart.

He isn't even trying to pretend he had plans to go shopping, what a guy.

Aoi getting excited over dirt and fertilizer, my girl <3

Shout out to Akane for being happy that Aoi is happy and to Teru for finally figuring out that he doesn't need to sabotage anything cause there is nothing to sabotage.

Teru: *speak*

Akane: and away goes my joy and whimsy.

Love Teru trying to bond with Aoi right after the realization this is a hangout. He wastes no time.

Aoi telling Teru the truth is sweet, I'm glad they are getting closer. Also happy to see Teru remains shameless.

Aoi gave him the driest look possible and Teru still put carrots on her basket. He even said "buy it" SO HE WOULD HAVE MADE HER PAY FOR THE CARROTS.

YES AOI REPRIMAND HIS ASS!

She really treats him like a dog! Is incredible. From her 'grrr' to the way she points a finger at him, it gives me "bad dog! Drop it!" energy.

Fascinated by the way Teru blushes. He seems to be more hung up on being called 'bad' than anything, but he definitively liked being reprimanded, he is still blushing when he walks instead of displaying the dejection of the convenience store.

He doesn't even give up on his quest to make her buy veggies.

Teru, you're doing horrible sweety, keep pestering her and you two will be inseparable in no time <3

Love how Akane snapped out of the curse's first attempt to make him spiral by refusing to be on the same level as Hanako.

He is so arrogant "What am i a loser? A pathetic toilet loser? Nah nah, I am better than that." like damn, okay bro.

I can't believe he pushed back against a curse by the sheer power of self-confidence and determination though, he is built differently. 90% of the characters in this manga cannot relate.

Love how Teru probably didn't suggest a single flower for Aoi to buy, trying to test if he could sneak even one vegetable into her basket, so his closeness to Aoi just made Akane's petunia suggestion look that much more thoughtful in comparison (she does look very happy to be given an actual flower).

Rest in peace Teru you suck at sabotaging.

(Or he would suck if that was the goal! He stuck around for this entire hangout despite how rare his free time is. He got his ice cream, he even walked Aoi home, he just want to hang out. Same vibe as when he went "Oh aoi come with me to the festival, Akane will be there")

I find Teru's zoned-out face so cute.

There is no speech bubble to Terukane's first panel here, but i am 95% sure Teru was the one who asked to be notified about Aoi's gardening progress considering the '...' contrasting Akane's enthusiasm. Love that for him, yes talk to Aoi, get close to this closed off girl.

And Akane didn't like that iuguyguygyui

Teru can always just take off his glasses like Akane never fights that. Good for you.

I am still not over Teru just letting him carry this curse.

But now I really doubt he did it specifically to torture Akane, cause Teru likes helping Akane as much as he enjoys annoying him.

I wonder if he is proud of Akane for not acting on any of the negative feelings he was being fed, cause Teru looks genuinely happy here! It's a far cry from his usual 'bullying you relax me' or 'i am petty' kind of smiles.

...I may be biased but I am throwing my "Teru didn't exorcise the monster for this long to have an excuse to be hanging out with the Aois while tecnically doing his job." idea here. We do get a heavy confirmation he could have done something before and wanted to third wheel after all.

Teru wants to turn this couple into a tricycle so bad. What a guy.

"I hope I didn't act weird" That's an insane thing to think considering how you act near Aoi on the daily bro, you're lucky she is too down bad to mind your madman tendencies.

Peak weirdo to weirdo pining hell.

Speaking of which, she sent him a message to show off the planted flowers! She went out of her way to make sure he saw it, Akane never asked her to update him.

LOOK AT THEEEEEEEEEEM

"Thanks for taking me out today!" says the one who invited him. And 'taking me out'? to the hardware store? I swear I wouldn't even be surprised if she mentally referred to their hang-out as a date too. I love you Aoi.

"As long as Ao-chan had fun, I am happy" l know and I love you.

ps: Their height difference still sparks joy. The smallest girl in the block, the tallest boy in the group, and the perfect middle ground.

[sammysbrokenheart]

Infinity.

Summary: You and Billie met before the fame and the fortune, but some things aren't always meant to be. (written in your pov)

Billie and I have been attached at the hip since we were 14. We did everything together and that's how we like it.

When we turned 15 it turned into something flirty. It was so innocent though. Two best friends seeing each other differently. That was also around the time Ocean Eyes happened.

Billie's life changed rapidly, but your bond stayed exactly the same. Somewhere during all the chaos you two fell in love and your best friendship turned into your first ever relationship.

"Baby I miss you," she says over the phone. That was the only way that we could communicate lately because Billie became so busy.

"I miss you too my love," I say sitting up from my bed. It was the middle of the night, between all of the touring and craziness she always tried to call. She sometimes forgets that timezones exist.

"When I get home I'm gonna spoil you rotten baby," She said and I could feel my heart skip a beat.

She's supposed to come home in three days and I can't wait to finally see her again. In three days is also my 18th birthday and in all the years of dating (all two years) she always made sure to make your day special.

I remember last years birthday was so romantic. She filled my bedroom with balloons and other cute decorations. After the shock died down we had dinner and watched Spirited Away. That's our favourite movie to watch together.

~~~next day~~~

"Why the face?" my brother asked when we were busy washing and drying the dishes the next day. I almost cut my hand from shock because my mind was so occupied.

"Yesterday Billie and I were talking and I don't know... I feel uneasy," I say handing him the knife in my hand.

"Why?" my brother said with a confused look on his face.

"I don't know I haven't heard from her since then and I know it could be nothing, but it doesn't feel like that..." I say scrubbing the plate in my hand.

"Come on it's Billie we're talking about... She loves you," he said slowly taking the plate out of my hand.

I could feel tears forming in my eyes and my heart felt heavy. She did love me. I kept repeating that to myself

"Heyyy stop doing that! It's gonna be okay," he pulled me into his arms and I couldn't help but cry.

~~~next day~~~

I woke up bright and early. I couldn't sleep from excitement anyway. I spent the better half of my morning picking something to wear and when I finally did it was 10 am, I spent 3 hours picking something to wear.

My parents and brother surprised me with a very sweet birthday breakfast. After the birthday breakfast my best friend Allan and Britney came to drag me away to some surprise.

I tried not to be too excited about it. I kept thinking that maybe Billie was waiting at the destination, hidden away somewhere to surprise me, but that wasn't the case. The surprise was a lovely picnic with all of our other friends. They sang for me and baked me the most delicious cake yet somewhere deep inside I was disappointed.

I looked down at my phone, no message.

"Come in birthday girl let's go take some pictures by the lake," Britney pulled me up from where I was sitting and dragged me to where the others were standing. Allan brought her camera and she was super excited to take some pictures.

After another hour they took me back home. At home my mother and father were in the backyard chatting and my brother was nowhere no be found.

Time passed slowly and before I knew it, it was dark. I stared up at the ceiling. Every second felt agonizing because they were seconds without Billie. Maybe I jinxed myself? Why did I say what I did yesterday?

I picked up my phone and tried to call her. What if something was wrong and she wasn't okay? Her call went straight to voicemail which was very unlike her and that made me panic even more.

The next morning came slowly. Anxiety kept me awake all night, this horrible feeling landed in the pit of my stomuch. I slowly dragged myself out of bed and went straight to the bathroom.

I decided to freshen up and take a shower immediately. There was no use in trying to sleep again. I went to pick up my phone and saw that it's off, it must have died in the middle of the night.

After placing my phone on charge I went down stairs to make myself some breakfast. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"I know I fucked up and I know you're probably mad at me, but I swear I can explain," Billie said as soon as the door opened.

I could feel my heart melt. All the anger and disappointment disappeared the moment I saw her.

"Y/N..." she said again and I realized that I must have zoned out.

Without any warning I wrapped my arms around her holding her tightly. It felt so comforting to be in her arms again like finally coming home after a long trip. Billie was my home.

"Let me make it up to you?" she asked and I nodded immediately. I didn't care what we were doing or what she had planned as long as we were together.

She was recognized all day and because she has such a big heart she made sure to give every fan equal attention. It made my heart swell to see her interact with her fans. It made me proud. At the same time spending time with Billie made me realize that I had no idea who she was anymore.

In the middle of our outing to the movies she got a call. She apologized profusely whispering frantically as she quickly got up and rushed out of the movie theater.

I sat there frozen staring at the screen. For some reason I couldn't move and for a moment it felt like I couldn't move at all.

This was her way to make up for missing my birthday and she left. She left.

That night she was on a plane back to wherever, I didn't care to ask, when she told me she was gone I immediately ended the call.

~~~two months later~~~

I broke up with Billie a week after that incident, I didn't want to, but it was for the best. I refused to watch us slowly drift the way I've been doing. My girlfriend became a stranger to me.

"Okay sis this tree is ugly as hell," my brother said with a judgemental look on his face as he examined my tree decorations.

I stood back looking at my Christmas tree.

"What do you mean!? This is the prettiest fucking Christmas tree ever," I said defensively.

My father peeked through the door, "He's right sweety..."

"Dad why would you take his side!" I said just as the doorbell rang.

I hurried to the door, it was probably Allan coming with her gift for me. I opened the door and immediately closed it and ran back to the living room.

"Who was it?" my brother asked then suddenly the doorbell rang again.

"Don't you dare!" I told him, but he didn't listen.

"Oh my gosh Billie!? Come on in baby!" my mother beat my brother to the door.

My brother bolted along with my dad. Suddenly it was just Billie and I alone in the living room. I quickly walked to the tree and started to remove the decorations. It was fucking ugly.

"This is a God awful tree," she said standing next to me and started helping me remove the decorations.

"Shut up..." I said.

I could feel her look at me every once in a while, but I didn't dare to look at her.

"So... Fuck Y/N look at me!" she said cupped my face in her hands forcing me to look at her.

"Billie I don't know what you're doing here-"

"I am here to get my fucking girlfriend back. At first I was a smart ass and I wanted to prove to myself that I'm alright but I'm fucking not. I'm not fucking alright Y/N," she said. I pushed her hands off of my face and took a step back.

"Y/N I know I get busy and I'm sorry for not always bringing you along on my journey, but I want you here. I want you with me, please let me prove to you how much I want you around," she said and I sighed. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Cliffhanger ♡♡

[dira333]

And the medal goes to... - Present Mic x Reader

for @alienaiver - for the Milestone Event Week 1 - Words: 1,6k

Join My Taglist

This is the best day of his life. 

“You’re annoying,” Shouta tells him from the side, but that’s not breaking his stride, no no.

“You’re just jealous,” Hizashi sings. “Because you didn’t got nominated.”

“I don’t want to be nominated.”

“Who doesn’t want to be nominated?” He turns now, glaring incredulously at his best friend. “It’s a freaking gold medal.”

“It’s not real gold,” Shouta corrects him. “You’re not playing the Olympics. You got gold in the Sports Festival one year, why is this making you so excited?”

“It’s a Medal of Valour, that’s serious business. Valour!!!”

“Yeah, I got it the first time.” Shouta sticks his pinky into his right ear and twists it. “Thanks for bursting my eardrum.”

“I didn’t burst it. I can burst it though if you want me to.”

“Not right now, maybe later.” Shouta parks the car. “Will you be okay without-”

“Don’t you dare stay behind!”

-

It’s a shame he had to come in his hero outfit. 

Sure it looks cool, but the medal will look stupid hanging right over his directional speaker. He could have worn a cool suit, mix up the old-fashioned needle-strip with some leather, spikes or bold colors.

“Oh, Present Mic, Sir, you’re right on time.”

“Of course, it’s such an honor-”

“Right this way, Sir,” he’s cut off, ushered down hallways. “You can wait in here until it’s time to step outside.”

Hizashi blinks. “Am I not supposed to listen to the speeches?”

The girl that had been guiding him looks a little confused.

“I mean, you can listen to them, but your presence is supposed to be a surprise, so you shouldn’t be seen from the crowd.”

“A surprise?” Behind him, Shouta lifts his head. Leave it to him to sniff out something weird.

“I’m sorry, maybe we got this wrong, but isn’t he nominated?”

“Nominated?” The girl stares wide-eyed in surprise. “No! Haven’t you read the letter we sent you?”

Shouta looks at him. He remembers the letter, but not the contents of it. 

Nomination, Medal of Valour, something something.

“Uh…”

“You’re our special guest. You’re here to deliver the Medal.”

“Oh,” Hizashi feels about half his size now. How is he going to explain this to his colleagues tomorrow? They’re all waiting to see that damned medal.

“No harm done,” Shouta calms down the poor girl while he tries to regain his sense of self. “We figured it out in no time. He doesn’t have to do a speech or anything?”

“No, just… be himself and deliver the Medal.”

“I can do that,” Hizashi promises, fumbling with the zipper of his leather jacket. “I can totally do that. I just… I think I got confused, because, why me?”

“I really can’t stay any longer,” the girl excuses herself at that, all but fleeing the scene. So much for an answer.

“Don’t say anything,” he begs Shouta who’s smile is small, but telling. Oh, he’s definitely going to hear about this later.

-

The room is small, but cozy, with a mini-fridge filled with drinks. 

One door leads back to the hallway and the other, Hizashi guesses, leads to the stage.

He pulls it open just a smidge so that he can listen.

The speeches are long and drawn out, as they usually are for an event like this.

Finally, they announce the names of the nominees. 

It’s not a competition, Hizashi knows. Each one of them will be granted their medal.

There’s an older lady who saved a toddler by calling for help. A guy who carried his co-worker out of a burning building. And then there’s you.

Something changes, he’s not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the murmuring crowd or the guy explaining everything or maybe it’s something entirely else, but Hizashi listens carefully now.

You’ve stood up to a Villain, faced injury or worse in order to shield an innocent child.

He knows he’s missing something from the story, but he doesn’t know what.

-

“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

The older lady’s name is Yachi Hitoka. She calls herself a scaredy cat, but knew she needed to do something when the little girl in front of her seemed to have trouble breathing. 

“I don’t have children,” she recalls, “but she held tightly onto my hand as we waited for help to arrive.”

The guy’s name is Tanaka Ryūnosuke and he talks about his deed of heroism like it was nothing but a walk in the park.

“Well I had to carry him out,” he recalls casually. “He couldn’t walk. It wasn’t that bad, just three sets of stairs. And he’s not that heavy, I think everyone could have lifted him-” He hesitates for a second. “Well, anyway, it was a good thing that I prioritize lifting over Cardio.” He chuckles over his own joke.

Finally, it’s your turn.

Your voice is friendly, but there’s an underlying hint of anxiety. No one’s calm on a stage unless they’ve had practice. 

Your name doesn’t ring a bell and neither does your profession but your story touches him differently than the others.

“I just had to help,” you say, voice tight. “Just because they’re quirkless doesn’t mean they can be treated that way! And what kind of person would I be, just looking the other way?”

“What gave you the strength to stand up to this Villain? I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“No,” you laugh. “But I thought about my favorite Hero. And that helped me a lot.”

“Oh, you’ve mentioned him before. What’s his name again, so that we all now?”

Your voice turns lower, as if you’re flustered.

“It’s, uh, it’s Present Mic. I’ve looked up to him since he’s had his debut.”

Shouta’s elbow digs deep into his ribs at that. Hizashi had forgotten about his best friend’s presence until that moment and he curses quietly under his breath.

Behind him, a door opens. 

“Are you ready?” The girl from earlier asks and he turns to nod at her before facing the stage again, peeking through the open door at the thick curtain he has to step through in a moment.

- - - x - - -

It’s hard to focus with the bright lights all around you, your sweaty hands leaving damp marks on your arm rests and all those faces looking up at you.

Medal of Valour. Hah. You didn’t do it for a Medal.

You did it for yourself, growing up Quirkless. For all the looks and the rumours and the loneliness.

You did it, because you knew, if he had been there, Present Mic would have done it too. 

At least you like to believe that.

“We were touched by your story,” the interviewer says now. “So we brought in an extra Guest today. Someone special to deliver the Medals.”

You swallow, unsure how to react.

Movement on your right has you shift your head and you glare into the bright light, trying to figure out what’s happening.

The curtains lift and you see something, someone, stepping through. Black leather, bight blond hair - you let out a weird sound that’s neither here nor there.

Present Mic is taller than you imagined him. 

He’s staring at you like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing and you wonder if he noticed the cane crammed between your thigh and armrest or the dark shadows under your eyes that come from the anemia.

Present Mic opens his mouth. You think you’re prepared for his voice but you’re not. Or rather, you’re not prepared for his words.

“You’re pretty!”

He says it like he’s dazed, like one does after getting hit in the head.

Snickers are heard from the crowd and he snaps out of it, blushing a feverish red.

“Pretty brave,” he corrects himself and you choke out a nervous giggle, try to avert your eyes and find you can’t. “Pretty brave indeed. I heard all of your stories. That’s what heroism is about, right? To help when needed, even when it’s hard.”

He blunders on, puts one word after the other until he’s got a sentence and then another but his eyes don’t seem to leave you.

It’s crazy and strange and you’re probably imagining things - yeah, that must be it - but he’s suddenly right in front of you, handing you that medal you never thought you could want, his hands lingering on yours a little longer than necessary.

You watch him move on. Tanaka-san next to you claps Present Mic on the shoulder like they’re old friends. Yachi-san giggles like a schoolgirl in love when he compliments her up-do, not once mentioning the obvious grey.

It’s over too soon. You’re meant to leave the stage under the applause of a crowd but you can’t walk that fast and the applause ebbs away as you fight your way down the stairs, your hand gripping your cane shaking.

It’s the nerves, really, but you know how it looks like.

“Care to hold on to my arm?” Present Mic’s on your other side all of a sudden, his arm right where you need it.

You hold onto it, flustered when he puts his hand right over yours, warm and reassuring.

“Can’t let you get away from me before I have your number,” he mumbles but he’s not good at speaking quietly, it seems and heads turn.

You don’t care for them. 

You only care for the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Well I could give it to you,” you tell him, a little braver now that you’re on solid ground, the crowd dispersing around you. “After all, you’ve been brave enough to ask.”

“Mhm,” he nods, smirking. “Brave enough to get a Medal of Valour?”

“Let’s not get too hasty,” you play along. “Start with my number first.”

“And a date second...”

-

Tagging:

@notsochillnerd @tsxkishimx @alexxavicry @lokiloveheart @kaykaystrings

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

2 Minus 1 - Act Two

Seungcheol is doing good without you. Really good, in fact! He’s got a great job, has his own apartment, and has many friends surrounding him. He’s even done some dating in the three years that you’ve been gone. On some blissful days, you don’t even cross his mind. But when you reappear in his life, he has to come to terms with the fact that he might not be doing as good as he thought he was. 

Genres: ANGST with a little bit of fluff here and there.

Word count: 6.4k

Requested? Yes!

You can find the series masterlist here.

Seungcheol stretches with a groan as soon as he hangs up the phone. He’s worked through the normal lunch hour and normally wouldn’t do that, but the client he needed to speak with is in a different time zone and he said he was flexible. It’s not a lie, but still, his stomach grumbles loudly at the thought of food, or rather the smell that’s wafting into his office when the door opens. 

“Man, am I happy to see you,” he says jokingly as Minghao sets a styrofoam box on the corner of his desk. Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan have piled in as well, making themselves comfortable on the couch in the corner and in the chairs in front of Seungcheol’s desk. They’re incredibly casual considering he’s their manager. They go out for dinner and drinks regularly, even on the weekends, and aren’t afraid to poke fun at each other outside of meetings with higher ups. He considers them friends, really. Friends that prop their feet up on his desk or lie down on his couch at 1pm for a nap. Seungcheol’s too busy stuffing his face to get after them about any of it right now. 

“How was the meeting?” Minghao asks. Objectively, he’s the most responsible of his team and Seungcheol often delegates to him when he can’t handle something himself, and is always assured that Minghao will handle it with grace. Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan look totally unconcerned about the meeting that will impact their future workload right now. They’ll buckle down when they have to, no doubt, but today is not the day. 

“Fine. They have a few more requests for the contract, so I added them to the list for a few weeks from now.” Seungcheol doesn’t care if they can understand him through bites. He’ll have to repeat all of this in front of his supervisor and them tomorrow anyway.

“Oh! Speaking of which, guess who we ran into?” Chan pipes up. Seungcheol shrugs. He doesn’t feel like guessing and it doesn’t look like he has to wait long because the three youngest members look excited. “Your friend, Y/N. The one you introduced us to on your birthday? She works in contracts now.”

Seungcheol pauses. Stops chewing all together. Swallows. Drops his chopsticks. And drops his head into his hands. “Oh my god,” he mumbles. 

There’s a long pause around the room before Vernon carefully asks, “Is that a bad thing? I thought you two were friends. Did I misread that?”

Seungcheol is still groaning. “Why me? Why now? What did I do to deserve this?”

Minghao���s eyes widen, and then he’s standing up, closing Seungcheol’s office door so this little breakdown isn’t heard by anyone else. “Okay, what’s the deal?” Seungcheol doesn’t respond and Minghao says his name a little more forcefully. 

Seungcheol sighs, sitting back up though he looks distressed. His phone rings and he lets it go to voicemail. “It’s a long story,” he says, hoping that they’ll have a short attention span today.

“What? Do you guys have history or something?” Seungkwan asks. When Seungcheol is silent, Seungkwan simply mumbles, “Oh.”

“You know, I thought it was a little suspicious that you didn’t actually describe someone you’ve known your whole life as a friend. We just made the assumption that she was,” Minghao starts. “Tell us,” he all but demands.

“No,” Seungcheol huffs. “Go back to work.” No one moves a muscle, staring at him expectantly. Vernon even appears to be getting more comfortable on the couch. Seungcheol huffs again. “Fine. We used to date. It’s awkward now. End of story.”

Minghao nods, humming. “So it didn’t end well, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs at the man he considers to be his best friend nowadays. “What don’t you get about ‘end of story’?” 

“Oh, we get it. We just don’t care,” Seungkwan sasses. “Now what’s the rest of that story? There has to be more.”

Resigned to the fact that they won’t be leaving him alone to crawl in a hole and die anytime soon, Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossed and food forgotten. Y/N had that affect on him, forgetting about food and sleep and everything else important. The phone rings again and he ignores it. Over the ringing, he starts telling them the story. 

He’s known her literally since he was born. Their fathers are friends and Seungcheol and Y/N happened to be born a day apart. They were inseparable for their whole lives and started dating when they were in college after he'd pined for an embarrassingly long time. Then came the news that she’d be moving for grad school. Seungcheol admits he hadn't taken it well and couldn’t maintain contact with her once she left. And now she's moved back and every interaction they’ve had to have so far has been totally suffocating to him. But, they share a ton of mutual friends and those interactions are unavoidable.

There’s a few beats of silence before Seungkwan runs his mouth again. “Ah. So you're not over it, then.”

Anger floods Seungcheol’s veins. “What?! It’s been over three years. Of course, I’m over it. I’m better off, in fact,” he insists vehemently. No one says anything and Seungcheol’s lips are falling into a small pout. “It’s just that it’s awkward now. We spent every second together for over 20 years before she left and now I don’t feel like I even know her.”

Chan shrugs. “Well, she’s back. Just get to know her again. I mean, people can change a lot in a few years, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends again.” He makes it sound so simple and it makes Seungcheol’s head feel like it might explode. 

“No, I won’t be doing that,” he snaps, frustration bleeding into every word. 

Minghao nods, shrugging. “Fine, don’t fix a life long friendship,” he says evenly and it takes Seungcheol aback a bit. “But can you be civil? We’ll have to work with her department often when this contract freeze is over. She might even take the lead on some of them.”

Seungcheol chews on the inside of his cheek for a long moment before finally saying, “Yeah, I’ll be civil.” Not that they needed to know, but the last thing he really wanted to be was mean to you. He just wasn’t sure how friendly he could be if it would twist the knife that you left in his chest. 

~

It’s been a week since you started working here, and Seungcheol has managed to not see you yet. Not that it’s stopped his team from asking about it every single day. ‘Have you seen Y/N yet?’ ‘Have you talked to her?’ ‘Just ran into Y/N downstairs!’ He’s been brusque about responding to these little questions and comments, doing his best to appear busy, although his email is slow and his calendar is pretty empty. 

It’s Minghao who eventually calls him out for the avoidance. “You know I can see your calendar, right? And you haven’t sent me anything to work on, which usually means you have a good handle on the things on your plate. So how long are you going to avoid seeing her? She’s quite literally below our feet.”

Forever, he wants to say at first. He shrugs and says he has some things he needs to get done so Minghao will let him breathe. But the comment gets him thinking because he never would have said that before. Not in a million years - he wasn’t attached to you for over 20 years for nothing. He’s not sure he really means it now. And everything else aside, not popping in to say hi to someone he’s known for over two decades and is now working on the floor right below him is not so civil. It’s only a matter of time before he runs into you in the hallway, cafeteria, or elevator. And there’s that pesky meeting on his calendar with your department. 

So he stops by the tenth floor on his way back up from lunch, knocking on the door after a mini pep talk. Seokmin turns from his computer, greeting him. Seungcheol likes Seokmin. He doesn’t know anyone who doesn’t. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. Pretty light load right now,” Seokmin answers. “I hear you’ll be changing that soon.”

Seungcheol shrugs good-naturedly with a chuckle. “Yeah, unfortunately, it’s part of my job description.” His eyes wander to the other side of the office and he knows it’s yours. Last month, when he stopped by to ask Seokmin a question, the desk was totally empty with not even a desk chair behind it. Now, it’s got a few succulents, a couple pictures, a cup of brightly colored pens. “Is Y/N in today?”

Seokmin’s eyes perk up and then Seungcheol hears a little cough behind him. He steps back so you can step inside. “Looking for me?” You give him a little smile, setting a coffee mug on Seokmin’s desk and then one on your own.

It kind of burns him up inside how casual you are, but he doesn’t know what he expected, so he clears his throat. “Yeah. I heard you were working here now, so I thought I’d come say hi and welcome you, all that stuff.”

“Oh! That’s nice of you, Seungcheol,” you say in your typical sweet voice, but the words burn him up too. Particularly his full first name. He was never ‘Seungcheol’ before. Always ‘Cheol’. The newfound formality makes him squirm. 

“How are you settling in? Is Seokmin being a good roommate?” Seungcheol tries to keep his voice light, teasing even. 

Something in your eyes light up and it kind of feels like a gut punch, because in so many ways it feels the same and it so many ways it feels like it never could be the same again. “Oh, Seokmin’s great. We’re besties now.” You pass a friendly smile to Seokmin, who returns it. Yeah, Seungcheol likes Seokmin, but something deep, deep inside him wishes you didn’t. He feels stupid for that. You continue on. “And as for settling in, there hasn't been much to settle into yet. I hear we’ll get something to work on next week though?”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah. We’ll see you guys and Mrs. Jang next week to talk about contract requirements. Nothing crazy. It’s pretty run of the mill stuff. We’ll see how much you learned in law school.” He hopes it comes off as a joke and not an insult, but he sees the corner of your lips twitch downwards and he knows it’s landed wrong. He’s way too proud and perhaps a little too bitter still to apologize. 

Still, you shrug. “It wasn’t cheap or easy, so I hope I learned something.”

That awkwardness that he thinks he’ll never get used to with you starts to seep back in, so he makes an excuse that he needs to get back upstairs, waving to you and Seokmin on the way out. Back at his desk, he slumps, head on his desk again. That definitely twisted the knife. 

~

The meeting twists the knife too. He always knew you were sweet. He’d watch you effortlessly win people over with your charm all his life and had never felt an ounce of bitterness about it. But still, he’s surprised when you win over his supervisor within just a few minutes before the meeting even starts. Mr. Park is a hard ass and it took Seungcheol nearly two years of tireless work to win his approval and get the management position that he has now. You won him over simply by mentioning your most recent alma mater and speaking fondly of it. Turns out that Mr. Park went there as well for his MBA. Small world. 

Beyond that, you don’t say much in this meeting. It’s up to Seungcheol’s team to present the contract requirements and hand them off to your department, and it’s a blessedly short meeting because your department will need some time to draft things up and gather questions. Seungcheol takes a long lunch after the meeting to walk around the block and work off the feelings that are bubbling inside of him. He also ignores his teams’ stares when he passes by their office on the way back to his. They aren’t subtle about how every single one of them peer over their cubicle walls like they’ve been waiting for him to come back. 

It’s almost time to go home when Minghao comes in by himself. “So. That went well this morning, didn't it?” He starts conversationally, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of Seungcheol’s desk. 

“Sure,” Seungcheol says shortly, trying to wrap up an email. “Jang’s team has always been good. I didn't expect any trouble.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned about that. I was talking about you being civil with your ex… whatever you guys are. You were very smooth, actually. Not that I’m supposed to tell you, but the kids were taking bets.”

Seungcheol stops typing, looking out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t you guys have work to do? I’m sure there's a rule about betting in the personnel manual anyway.” He doesn’t bother reminding Minghao that he's only a year or two older than any of them and calling them ‘kids’ is a stretch, regardless of how much more responsibility Minghao pulls around here.

“No,” Minghao chuckles. “You haven’t assigned us anything this week. They’ve been playing darts for days. Tournament style. A few people from other departments have joined.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes because he most certainly told them to take that dart board home. He doesn’t want to explain to his supervisor or anyone else really. “Anyway, it was a bet about paying for lunch. No money is directly trading hands. I looked it up, it’s technically allowed.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, hitting send and then leaning back in his seat. “Don’t make me go to HR to find out if you're right, Hao. There’s a difference between ‘allowed’ and ‘loophole’.” Minghao looks totally unaffected by the threat, so Seungcheol moves on. “Who won the bet then?”

“Chan. Seungkwan bet that you’d be mean. Vernon bet that you’d look totally lovesick. Chan bet that you’d be avoidant.” 

“Avoidant?” Seungcheol reels back. He can’t deny the urge to be both mean and lovesick, but avoidant? “How did that one win? I sat across from her. I talked to her.” 

“No,” Minghao shakes his head. “You at no point spoke directly to her. Didn’t really look at her either.” Seungcheol falls silent because he’s not sure what to say. “I understand that you didn’t want to be honest with the kids, but you know I can keep a secret. So what’s really going on?”

He feels like he’s 22 again, sitting at the table in his crappy student apartment, about to get a knife shoved in his chest. If only he could go back and give himself a heads up not to think too hard about the future. He’s looking out of the window behind him when he starts talking. “You know, I was planning to propose? Maybe not right away, but we’d talked about moving in together and it felt right, you know? Then she rips my heart out and moves across the world a few weeks later. Never mind the fact that we’d been attached at the hip for our whole lives. It would have hurt without the dating.” 

Minghao hums sympathetically. “I can understand some bitterness.” It’s not some, he wants to say. He’s been choking on it for three years if he thinks about it for too long. “How long had you been into her?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, shrugging. “A decade? I don’t know. It was always going to be her, it seems. Which makes everything harder.”

“Makes some sense,” Minghao says, and Seungcheol snaps his head to him, looking confused. “Of what little dating you’ve done since then, nothing has lasted. You didn’t seem that interested in the first place, really. It was always going to be her and it’s still her. That’s okay, really, if you just come to terms with it.”

That bitterness is constricting his throat more and more by the second. “How the fuck do I come to terms with that? I’m angry, Hao. It’s been three years and I’m still angry.”

“So, tell her,” Minghao shrugs. Seungcheol scoffs again, getting sick of how casual his friends are about this. “No, I’m serious. Lay it all out on the table so maybe you two can salvage something out of this awkward situation. You’re telling me you don’t want to recover anything with someone you’ve known your entire life? Nothing at all? You’d prefer to pretend she doesn't exist?”

He doesn’t know. He couldn’t be your friend when you left, and he doesn't think he can be your friend now. The possibility of being more with you again now that you’re back flashes through his mind like you two can pick up where you left off and he wants to light the idea on fire. No, he wants to light himself on fire before he gives you the chance to hurt him like that again. Still, he hates the longing that he feels, thinking about what it was like when it was good. It was good for a long time, even when it was unrequited. 

Minghao must realize that he won’t get an answer right now, so he slaps the edge of the desk lightly, standing up. “Come on. We’re going out for drinks. You look like you could use one and you’ve probably just been wiggling your mouse all day anyway.”

Seungcheol locks his computer and grabs his things. He could use a few drinks, actually, as long as his friends can avoid this conversation in front of him. 

~

Seungcheol gets up early on Saturday. Normally, he would sleep in and just do a few things around his apartment that were neglected throughout the week. Maybe go out with his friends later that night. But he’s been tense for weeks now, snapping at little things only to want to wallow in despair later when alone in his office. Minghao’s bluntly told him he’s being unpleasant, so he’s been hitting the gym harder lately to work out some of this frustration. He plans to go put himself through a long, excruciating work out since he has the time for it today. 

He runs for way longer on the treadmill than he normally would, but there’s something satisfying about the thud of his feet hitting the track that keeps him going until he feels unsteady. He’s dripping sweat by the time he gets to the weights and he stacks them high, going heavier than he usually would. Each pump of iron reduces some of the stress and by the time he walks out, he’s drop dead tired and aching all over, but his mind is blissfully blank. 

He stops by a coffee shop around the corner and gets his order to-go. When he comes out of the elevator on his apartment floor, he comes to a halt fast. There’s a couch in the way. Must be a new neighbor, he thinks. Someone moved out a few months ago and the unit next to his has been vacant since. 

Seungcheol sips his coffee, patiently watching the couch move. And nearly spits out that coffee all over the couch when he sees whose carrying the tail end of the couch. “Mingyu? What are you doing here?” He asks, surprised. 

Mingyu’s eyes are bright, despite the struggle of maneuvering the couch. “Hey, Cheol! It’s move in day!” 

“Oh!” Seungcheol cries out. “You’re moving in? Is Wonwoo coming with you?” 

“No!” Wonwoo’s voice echoes down the hall. He must be on the front end of the couch. “I would never want to be your neighbor. We aren’t the ones moving anyway,” he laughs. 

Seungcheol can step out of the elevator now and trails behind them. “Mean. I thought we were friends,” he laughs. “Who’s my new neighbor then? Anyone I know?” He kind of assumes it is since he shares so many mutual friends with them. 

“Help us get this around the corner and find out,” Mingyu grunts. Seungcheol drops his things off in his apartment and meets them next door, helping them angle the furniture into the doorway. 

The couch is inside the main room of the apartment when Wonwoo finally yells out. “Hey, come tell us where you want this!” 

“Coming!” A voice calls out from down the hall. Seungcheol’s stomach drops. Who else would Wonwoo and Mingyu be moving in, now that he thinks about it? You barrel around the corner, lugging a box in your hands. It lands on the floor in the corner with a thud. You look surprised to see him. “Oh, hey, Cheol. Joining the move in party?”

He knows you're not serious, but still he shrugs because he's at a loss for words. Wonwoo’s clearing his throat to bring the focus back to the task at hand. You gesture to a particular spot and Wonwoo and Mingyu slide it into place. “That's the last of the big stuff,” Mingyu announces. “Just boxes left now.” He turns to Seungcheol. “Got plans or are you up for a few trips? Y/N has promised beer and pizza as payment.”

Seungcheol doesn’t give a shit about beer or pizza or payment. He’s spiraling a little because he just started feeling better after a long work out, damn it! But he’s never been known to turn down helping you, and he could really use a second work out now. So he makes multiple trips downstairs to the truck, helping them get everything in. And he does stay for a beer and a couple slices of pizza, but is really relieved when he gets a message from Chan asking if anyone wants to go out for drinks. He does, if only to have a good reason to escape your apartment. 

~

There’s a knock on his door on Thursday night. When he opens it, his eyes flare in surprise. You look a little awkward waiting outside. He’s done some serious avoiding since you moved in on Saturday and either you’ve let him or you’re doing your own avoiding up until now. Still, he gives you an awkward smile. “Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you,” you start, shifting from foot to foot. “I just checked the mail and found a note that a package was delivered, but I think it might have actually come to you? Did you happen to get anything?”

He holds the door open, gesturing for you to step inside. “I got something, but haven't looked at it yet. Come in and I’ll check.”

You trail after him to his small dining room table that resembles more of a desk, what with the clutter of mail, an assortment of snacks, and a laptop. Seungcheol’s kept his second room as a spare bedroom because his friends like to crash here when they go out, so this has become an impromptu workspace over the years. Still, he tries to subtly organize things as he reaches for the small package, picking it up to read the label. “Oh yeah, this is for you,” he says, handing it over. 

“Thanks,” you say, relieved. An awkward beat passes and you look like you might bail now that you have what you came here for. But Seungcheol opens his mouth first for some unknown reason.

“How are you settling in?” 

Your shock is clear for a split second but you recover quickly. “Oh, it’s fine. Nicer than the apartment I had back in California, that's for sure. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course.” He’s surprised by how he means it. “Let me know if I can help with anything as you get unpacked.”

You don't recover from your shock this time. “You’d… do that? Help me, I mean.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Y/N, when have I ever not helped you? I’ve been doing that since before we both could walk.” 

Your eyes look a little watery as you bite your lip. It’s a look he’s seen before and it tugs at his heartstrings a little. “I just figured things might have changed too much for that to be true anymore, you know? I would understand if it has.”

Your acceptance that he might not want to be in your life anymore twists the knife more than any of your casualness since you’ve moved back. It makes him angry because he never wanted space from you in the first place. Sternly he says, “It hasn’t changed. Not like that anyway. Just call or come over, okay?” 

After a few beats, you finally nod. “Thanks, Cheol. And thanks for the package. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Have a good night, okay?” He watches you close the door behind you on your way out, but he doesn’t move for a long time. It’s hours later while he’s lying in bed when he remembers. He grabs his phone off the charger, unblocking you on everything. It’s kind of hard for you to reach out for help if he doesn’t do that. And he kind of hopes you will call, even if it just for a package mixed up in the mail. Even if it hurts to be around you, because  Seungcheol realizes Minghao’s been right with all of his lectures lately. He should really try to salvage something with you.

~

You send him a text the following Sunday. Initially, you’re trying to make sure he still has the same number - which he does. Then you ask if he’s up for hanging some things on the wall for you. You say you’ll feed him as payment, but that has so little to do with him sliding on shoes and walking next door at 10am. You actually look happy to see him when you open your door, not just neutral like you have been since moving back. 

“Hey, Cheol. Come on in.” Once he’s in and his shoes are off, you’re leading him to your kitchen. “Thanks for doing this. Wonwoo’s threatened me not to climb on anything, which would make it nearly impossible for me to do this myself.”

This brings some levity to the situation for Seungcheol in a weird way. Lovingly making fun of her clumsiness, just like he did for years and years before she left. The familiarity is warm and suffocating at the same time, but still he chuckles. “And he’s right for threatening you about that. You’d be dangerous on a ladder or stool.”

You’re chuckling too, placing a mug of coffee in front of him. “I know. I ruin everything. I’d probably put extra holes in the wall too before I break a bone. Pancakes okay?” 

“Sure,” Seungcheol shrugs, sipping on his coffee. It brings a stupid wave of emotions because you remembered how he likes his coffee and has prepared it to perfection. He tells himself that it’s because you have years of practice in college and it shouldn’t be something special but it is. He’s thankful that you have your back turned, grabbing things from the cabinet, and miss that it’s made him a little misty-eyed. “How are you liking the job?” 

You glance over your shoulder and shrug. “It’s alright.”

Your disinterested tone surprises him. He assumes you took this job because it was a direction you wanted to go after graduating, but you lack the passion he would have expected if that was the case. “Not what you had in mind?”

“No, it’s not that,” you drawl out, sighing. “My number one priority was coming home. In some ways, I took the first offer I got to do so. I’m not sure exactly what I want to do with my degree now that I have it.” Your laugh is incredibly humorless and he’s sure your expression would crush him if he could see it. “Isn’t that stupid?”

“No,” he says genuinely. It does burn him up inside to think that you might have left for nothing in a way, but he never wants to tell you that. In moments of clarity while you were gone, he did feel some pride that you were pursuing something you seemed passionate about. And on the heels of that, regrets that he didn’t just tell you that when you made your little announcement. “When did that change though? A few years ago, you were so excited for the program and where it would take you.”

He sees your shoulders tense at the mention of the breakup, no matter how delicately he was trying to tiptoe around it. But any discussion of her leaving would always tie back to that. “I guess I didn’t realize how many different things I could do with my degree outside of being a lawyer. I always had this image that I’d take the bar and find a practice and be in court everyday. I was about halfway through my degree when I realized the traditional career path might not be for me. Everyone keeps asking when I’m taking the bar and I’m not sure what to tell them, because it might be never now.”

Seungcheol mulls this over for a long time, letting you mix the batter, pour it into the pan, wait, flip, repeat. You have a decent stack of pancakes before he finally speaks. “That’s okay, Y/N. You shouldn’t stress about that. I mean, look at Jang. She’s got a law degree and has been in Contracts for longer than we’ve been alive. The non-traditional path is fine.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, flipping off the burner and bringing the full plate over to him. “Want anymore coffee? Fruit?” It’s clear to him that this part of the conversation is over, so he lets you bounce around the kitchen for a few things before finally sitting across from him. That tinge of awkwardness is still ever present, but he’s relieved that you two can move on to something else. Wonwoo and Mingyu. Seokmin. Seungcheol’s friends. Law school. It sort of, kind of, maybe feels like he can be your friend again, even if it looks and feels a little different. 

After breakfast, he helps you clean up. Then he lets you hand him dozens of things to hang throughout the apartment. Your diplomas. Photos of your family. Photos of you and your brothers. A few of you and him as kids, teenagers, and college students, which makes him misty-eyed again. A couple with what he assumes were friends from law school. A few of you and Jeonghan, someone you both went to high school with. 

“Didn’t know you knew Jeonghan that well,” he asks, hoping it sounds casual. 

“We went to law school in California together. We were close. Still are.” 

Seungcheol does his best to mask his awkwardness by teasing. “He had a massive crush on you back in high school, you know?”

You chuckle, handing him another thing to hang. “He told me.”

“Didn’t make a move, did he?” He’s joking, at first anyway. But you’re quiet as you hand him the next thing. 

“I guess? We dated for a while. Not that he told me about that crush until it was already over,” you finally admit. 

The knife twists. “Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s bummed you left.” He bites his tongue immediately because he didn't mean it like that. Your silence tells him you took it exactly how he wished you didn’t. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbles, abandoning the pride that would usually keep him biting his tongue. 

You shake your head up at him. “It was deserved. I’m sorry if it’s awkward to talk about him. Or anything really.”

He focuses on the hook on the back of the next frame. “It shouldn’t be. Of course you dated while you were in California.”

Another pregnant pause. “Did you date?”

He shrugs and it’s genuinely casual because there’s not much to say. “Here and there. Nothing really stuck.”

You hum. “That’s it, I think. Get off the stool before you fall.”

The scolding makes him laugh. “I’m not you. I won’t be falling off.” Still, he climbs down, returning the stool to the kitchen. You meet him at the door, probably assuming he wants to go since he’s been here for hours now. “Thank you, again. You’ve kept my baby brother off my back for now.” 

The lightheartedness of the comment crushes him for so many reasons, but mostly that he spent years keeping Wonwoo and Mingyu, and often Bohyuk, off your back. Another thing that’s familiar. He desperately tries to match your lightheartedness when he says, “No problem. You know where to find me.”

At least later today you’ll know where to find him, anyway. He changes into gym clothes and hides out at the gym, working out until he can’t work out anymore. 

~

It’s Christmas and the tradition has always been for the Jeons and Chois to get together. They did it when Seungcheol and his brother and you and your brothers were kids, and it’s a tradition that they’ve maintained despite all of the kids being in their 20s now. 

Seungcheol offers to drive you to this get-together. He’s been doing that a lot lately, often times without realizing before the words are out of his mouth. If it’s raining or snowing, he’s offering to drive you to and from work because it’s right there. When the two of you go out with Wonwoo and Mingyu for dinner, he’s driving you home because it’s literally right there. When he needs to go to the grocery store, he asks you if you need anything or want to tag along, because it’s right there. You get the point. You’re right there and he can never seem to forget it.

So Seungcheol waits in your living room while you finish getting ready. He’s already got the gifts you both have purchased for everyone in the car. You come down the hall in a whirlwind, flinging on a coat over your Christmas sweater, tugging on boots. “I’m ready, I’m ready!” 

It makes him laugh genuinely. The awkwardness has faded for the most part, replaced by warmth, much like it was before you left. “Not like they’re going to start with out us.”

You scoff, grabbing your bag. “A very Leo attitude of you to have.”

“And you don't have that attitude?” He chortles, meeting you at the door, taking your keys from you to lock up since you seem frazzled. 

You snort. “No. Have you met my brothers? Bohyuk will eat both your portion and mine before we can get there if they don't watch him.” 

“You act like both my parents and yours aren’t making enough to feed a small army,” Seungcheol scoffs again, leading you into the parking garage. When both of you arrive, it's kind of like you never left. There are even moments where he forgets that you actually did. Watching you put your youngest brother in a headlock for stealing food off your plate. Wonwoo replacing the food from his own plate while you have your back turned. You getting Seungcheol a drink when you get up to get a refill for yourself. Seungcheol’s older brother Seungmin even comments that it’s like the four of you are still children. Mentions of law school can’t even touch the good mood Seungcheol’s in when you both walk to the car much, much later that night to go home. 

You’re a little bit giggly when you collapse into the front seat and he can’t help but chuckle. “Baby, I think you had a little too much eggnog.” You roll your eyes dramatically, tugging on your seat belt to try buckling it. It's not going well, so Seungcheol leans into the passenger side to do it for you. “So stubborn,” he chuckles again. “Watch your arm,” he warns, closing the door. Once in his own seat he starts up the car, blasts the heat, and gets on the road. “Did you have fun? First Christmas back with everyone.”

“I did,” you sniffle, and it makes his head snap to you. That’s right. You cry when you drink. The tiniest mention of something that makes you emotional balloons into tears. He’d lost count of how many times he’d let you curl up into his side until the emotion had passed, soothing you along the way. He can’t do that, because he’s driving and because it wouldn’t be a good idea anyway. So he reaches over, palm up for you to hold and you do on instinct. “I missed it. Holidays here, I mean. Hannie and Joshua tried to make Christmas fun there, but it wasn’t the same, you know?”

“I can imagine,” he says soothingly. “It was nice though. You hadn’t seen Bohyuk yet since you moved back, right?” 

“He’s a little shit,” you chuckle, but Seungcheol knows the statement is full of love. “It was nice to see Seungmin, too. I hadn’t seen him in a long time.”

Seungcheol hums. “He asks about you all the time. Says he always thought you were a sweet kid.”

“I’m sweet now,” you whine.

This makes a laugh bubble up Seungcheol’s throat. “I know you are, baby.”

You hum, looking kind of sleepy as you lean your head back. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

Seungcheol blinks, then realizes what he's said. Not once, but twice. He drives for a few long seconds in silence. “I’m sorry. It slipped. Habit, I guess.”

You’re sniffling again. “No, I like it. It reminds me that maybe you don't hate me.”

He’s lost in thought for the next few minutes, parking in the garage, leading you inside. He takes your keys from you, letting you into your apartment. He helps you change because he’s seen it all already and you’re totally unfazed by it. He helps you get into bed, tucking you in a bit. You’re already half asleep when he strokes your hair a few times. “I don’t hate you. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Cheol.” He can barely make your words out before you’re really out like a light. 

The gym is closed so he just lies in bed staring at the ceiling for a while. It’s true. He doesn’t hate you. Could never, really. He just doesn’t know what that means. 

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch11 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~6.8K

❥ Warnings: none in this chapter

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Slower moments have become a bit rarer, and you cherish the moments where Geto keeps his hands entirely off of you. Especially around the twins, he’s come to respect the idea that you want to keep those matters entirely separate. Even if in his mind, he might think that a happily married couple who can’t keep their hands off each other is a healthy thing for the twins to see, you just don’t want to entertain it yourself.

Because no matter what he thinks, none of this is fucking real.

Geto and the twins have taken the liberty to take you out, first to a bakery as per tradition (the girls can’t go without their sweet treats), then a stroll around the park (again, as per tradition), and Geto insists remaining behind for a bit for a picnic and some sight seeing. While you engage with the twins, he sets aside time for solo meditation in the fields.

“Mom! I’m so excited for you and Mr. Geto to get married!” Nanako exclaims in the middle of attempting to snatch one of their hand-held game consoles from Mimiko. Mimiko huffs at her sister, keeping the console just out of Nanako’s reach while she’s got her brows furrowed in concentration, trying to beat another level at a classic Sonic the Hedgehog game. “It’s going to be so great for you to really be our Mom for real!”

“Nanako! For fuck’s sake,” Mimiko scoffs as she shoves her away. “Wait your turn! I’m almost done with this level and then you can play!”

“Girls,” Geto cautions from afar. “Be kind to each other! Remember I don’t like to see you two fight.”

“We’re not fighting!” they shout back in unison and you can’t help but hold back a little snort at that. Typical sister behavior.

“She’s just being rude as usual,” Mimiko sneers while shooting a glare at her. Nanako fumes, her nostrils flaring.

“Well you’re just hogging the game!” Nanako shoots back while scrunching her nose in disgust.

You find your lips twitching into a little smile at the exchange. Such a normal one in spite of the world they’re in, where you’re still not sure if you can make any sense of it. But little moments like this—where they behave like people and not like they’re plotting to change the world to fit an agenda that doesn’t seem plausible in the long run—it doesn’t feel that way here.

“So which one of you is the older twin?” you ask playfully, knowing full well that’s not the sort of question you want to ask twins.

“I am,” Mimiko points out in a matter-of-fact tone, side-eying her sister, and Nanako huffs in response. Such animated reactions from Nanako which is hallmark for the younger sibling in your experience.

“It doesn’t matterrrrrr because I’m the prettier one,” Nanako retorts while sticking out her tongue. Mimiko rolls her eyes at that and the game plays the level complete jingle when she hands the console over to Nanako.

“Finally! Sheesh, you take forever to beat these levels,” Nanako taunts as she navigates her character—she prefers Tails while Mimiko goes with Knuckles or Shadow—through the next underground level.

You giggle again at the scene and freeze the moment you feel Geto’s presence creep up from behind you, settling beside you and pulling you into his chest. You don’t say a word, shutting your eyes as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and then to your temple. His arms snake around your waist, securing a protective hold.

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he murmurs, his tone tender, and his eyes flicker with a bit of amusement, but not from tormenting you this time. No, no—he’s happy you’re trying to make an active effort to be a part of this family.

For a moment, things go still between the two of you, and it’s not uncomfortable, exactly. You take notice of the way the sun’s warmth bathes your skin and you ground yourself with the sound of the soft rustling of leaves as soft gusts of wind rushes by. The more you concentrate on grounding, the more you can feel the pounding of Geto’s heart. A gentle ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump rhythm may have been a therapeutic one if it’s from someone else.

But you remember your place. You’re not free yet.

He calls your name and your eyes snap open again. He glances down at you with his eyes shining in the sun, twinkling like the little gemstones those violet eyes of his resemble. Yes, he does appear something akin to royalty, but he’s a slippery serpent beneath that fair facade.

“Yes, darling?” you whisper, wishing dearly to escape to another reality where you’re not in this cage.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your skin as he presses another kiss to your temple. “We all love you.”

He can believe that all he likes, but you know it can’t be true. Your fingers play with a few stray strands of his hair which gleams so brilliantly in the daylight. He does have such beautiful hair and such beauty is wasted on a man of his nature.

“I know,” you reply, but you don’t know. Not really. You’re not sure if you can ever believe a word that comes out of his mouth because there’s always going to be something else to decipher. “I know you do, darling. I’m happy that you’re happy with me.”

His finger trails along the gold chain on your neck, admiring how it reflects the light. That same finger dares to dip lower to trace little patterns along your collarbone and you suppress a shiver throughout your body.

“You make me the most alive I’ve felt in years,” he remarks—he’s been saying that a ton more lately, you notice—his tone reverent, like he’s praying to you like you’re his God instead. His hand finds yours, intertwining them as his thumb massages along your knuckles. Soft. Slow. Gentle. But each touch leaves behind a tingling sensation like in a way he’s marking you in a much more discreet way, in a more insidious way. You feel as if you’re restricted from movement or from any true protest, his hold on you tight, suffocating, much like his overall presence in your life is.

Somehow this feels more intimate than any time you have with him in bed which somehow feels impersonal and detached. “All I wish is that you feel like you belong with us because you do, my love.”

The smile that forms on his lips is soft; it’s such an unusual sight—like he’s trying to find some inkling of the man he might have been once upon a time before you came into the picture. Your lips purse; what kind of man had he been in the past? Any different to the version of himself now? At one point, has he tried to be kind?

You don’t know why you’re so curious all of a sudden, but if there’s anything the world has taught you, it’s that villains in the story are made, not born right off the bat.

“Sheesh, get a room, Mr. Geto,” Nanako grimaces while watching the two of you interact. Mimiko has a blank but you can definitely read displeased expression on her face. Your complexion pales at the remark and Geto can’t help but laugh in that empty and condescending way of his until his shoulders shake and he adjusts you so that you’re in a more comfortable position in his lap.

“I’m sorry, Nanako,” he replies through a string of hearty chuckles. “Don’t mind us. You focus on your sister.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you’re making it all gross and hot and heavy and we’re stuck watching it like non-consenting voyeurs,” Nanako quips with a flat look on her otherwise animated face. Mimiko hums in agreement.

“Well, at least we know Geto hasn’t forgotten how to charm a woman,” Mimiko points out with a note of sarcasm as she quirks an eyebrow. “For a while there I was concerned that with you being all work and no play you had forgotten how to find pleasure in the simpler things in life, Mr. Geto.”

You cover your own flushed face, and you can feel Geto’s gaze avert to you and the embarrassment sinks deeper into your very core of your being. You don’t even know why you feel this way but you have made it a point in the past not to behave in such a way around the twins.

You don’t even like entertaining this.

“You two,” Geto objects, and you can’t believe you see him fighting back a flushed face himself. This is the first time you have seen him lose his composure like this. “Don’t make me ground you both again.”

Nanako gawks, appalled, sticking her nose into the air before twisting herself fully away so she doesn’t have to witness the two of you faux doting on each other while she tries to focus on the Sonic level she’s still in the middle of completing.

You laugh openly again at her reaction and are then cut off as Geto jerks you to his direction, his lips hovering just above yours as your bewildered eyes bore into his before they squeeze shut the minute his lips meet yours. This time the kiss isn’t forceful or invasive, but coaxing. Gentle. A hand rakes through your hair as he deepens the kiss, the flat of his tongue resting over yours. As he pulls away a barely visible line of spit connects your lips and he breaks off the connection with a little flick of his tongue. His face is still flushed but more so from arousal than embarrassment.

“My love,” he rasps in a seductive manner, cradling your face.

“We all adore you so,” he reminds you again.

You don’t protest when he captures your lips in another passionate, consuming kiss—mostly because it might cause a bit of an unwanted scene—your arms snaking around his neck, your lips moving against his to appease his efforts. That’s what he wants, isn’t it? To seem normal, healthy?

You can do that. Just for a while longer.

The day you loathe is rapidly approaching. Miss Suda has taken the liberty of assisting you with your wedding preparations along with a few of Geto’s other servants. Geto has all the money in the world to throw away for the sake of the spectacle, and he’s all about showing off.

You stand there motionless before the large mirror spanning one wall almost like an accent, hands to your sides as Manami Suda fusses around with the silk of your wedding kimono. Her fingers are nimble, deft; her voice remains soft with that underlying edge of disdain (whether toward you or toward Geto is hard to discern for sure); her words with you are jagged and sharp like the jewels on her neck.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” begins Suda, her tone lacking any true comfort in them. “But I guess, playing the long game comes with its compromises.”

You do not respond to that. More like you don’t have any real response to that that won’t come off as bitter and vindictive which you do have every right to feel. Because if there’s one aspect of your agency Geto can’t change, it’s your right to feel the way you fucking feel.

In a way, you think of your silence as another way to protest. It’s one she dismisses easily with a sigh, though. She continues to shuffle around you as she adjusts your kimono, examining, assessing every curve and crevice of your body, determining your measurements, practically eyeballing it and not really utilizing the tape measure in her hands. Almost like this stuff comes as easy as breathing for someone like her, and given how effortlessly fabulous you think of her, it can’t be too far off.

The kimono she’s chosen for you is a beautiful one, but wearing it feels like a ball and chain, just a bitter reminder of your sorrows since your arrival here and now Geto hopes to pin you down permanently.

“For a week before the binding ceremony, you’re expected to fast along with Geto,” Suda explains, her voice still as detached as ever like she’s discussing something completely arbitrary like today’s weather. She gestures for you to lift your arms, her eyes scrutinizing the intricately patterned silk as it falls gracefully around your figure. “Then during the first ritual, he’s going to mix his blood with yours, but not the other way around this time for obvious reasons.”

Your eyes flash with irritation, undirected at Miss Suda of course.

Gee, you might have never guessed! Your lips curl into a bitter little smile at that notion. How can it be otherwise with someone like Suguru Geto, their ‘enlightened one’? Someone who can never dare taint his pristine sorcerer blood with that of a lowly monkey like you, even if he claims to love you. This marriage feels more like a purification process.

What an audacious way to put it, but that seems right up Geto’s alley.

“So what else should I know about the ceremony?” you dare to query like you’re interested in what to brace yourself for but your voice drenched in sarcasm. You fail to mask the bitterness in you but you figure it doesn’t matter around Miss Suda. As a woman, she understands your plight, your disdain, your reluctance to accept the status quo, and certainly empathizes with you but she has to maintain some semblance of her mask should Geto waltz into the room uninvited.

“Well, a long-winded speech from Geto, I suppose,” Suda answers with a sigh that borders on sympathetic. As sympathetic someone as stoic as her can appear toward non-sorcerers, even if you are a sister regardless of your status. “And you have to give one as well. I can help you prepare one. I can’t expect any sentiments you have for Geto are anything positive.”

Oh, if only. Maybe then this all won’t feel like such a fucking joke but here you are, about to be tied to a man you despise more than words in your extensive vocabulary can express. That says something.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath, practically seething at the mere prospect. “Guess he’ll find any way to stroke that already over-inflated ego of his…”

Manami chuckles at that as she steps back to admire you in your wedding kimono.

Her dark green eyes meet yours through the mirror as she adjusts some of the wrinkles on your hips.

“I think I got all of your measurements. I’ll tailor the kimono to complement your body. You’ve got quite the figure,” Suda compliments with a small smile. “And of course, we can figure out what we’re going to do about hair and makeup. It’s still your wedding day, and while it might not be your dream wedding, we still want you to look your best.”

The words fall flat. Practically meaningless to you but you know she’s actually trying to forge some kind of bond with you and she doesn’t even need to do that.

You mumble a half-hearted, “Thank you, Miss Suda,” as your gaze lands on the mirror again. The reflection staring back is someone you no longer recognize. While the kimono is stunning as you’ve stated before, it’s an iridescent cascade of blues, silvers, and a hint of some pink shifting beneath the lights, it still feels like a mockery. Just some cheap version of a bride’s gown (even if Geto has spent a fortune on this damn fabric).

“Please, call me Manami,” Suda waves off, her dark green eyes twinkling with something that you can’t name. “Of course. I’m going to grab some more supplies, so hang tight for a few, alright?”

Manami then saunters out of the room with a little flounce to her shapely hips (that you’re a bit envious of yourself, you can’t help your eyes trailing after her a bit) and into the restroom to fetch more supplies, her absence leaving you alone with your raging thoughts. The silence is suffocating, deafening—broken only by the soft rustle of the silk kimono as you shift in your spot.

You give yourself another once over, glancing once again at your reflection, but all that stares back is still a stranger to you. You long for the woman you once were, someone full of fight and might and spirited as ever, but she seems beaten and bruised when you look hard enough past the superficial. All the little marks Geto or Gojo have left behind has tainted your perception of yourself. You feel dirty, used recklessly by two horrid men. You appear more fitting as a servant girl than a greedy sorcerer’s wife, yet he deems you the worthiest among a sea of unworthy.

You find your mind beginning to wander off to another reality, envisioning a scenario where you marry your real dream man and not some nightmarish ghoulish version of him that you find in Geto. You think of someone who’s attentive, someone who’s kind, someone who doesn’t coerce you or force you into some twisted fantasies his best friend has about sharing his girl. You’re not even his girl and you refuse to address yourself as such. Not without the title he’s thrust upon you being laden with resentment and bitterness. Foul like those curse spirits Geto is forced to consume.

You only ever hear him speak ill of his cursed technique, and you’re surprised he even vents to you about such thing when before he doesn’t bother to discuss his rituals in exorcisms of unsuspecting clients. In some ways, it seems that he’s begun to use you as a way to ground himself between the burdens he’s forced to carry on his labored shoulders. It’s almost as if…when he speaks anything of his role as a sorcerer, he doesn’t view his role as his sworn duty. More like an obligation he’s been forced into himself.

It’s almost as if…being a sorcerer is something he’s never wanted, either. While he enjoys being worshiped like a deity without a shadow of a doubt, he doesn’t appear to want to do this all alone. Yes, you understand you’re here to fill a certain void Gojo won’t be able to fill at one point in the future. But there’s something else there that you just can’t wrap your head around.

There are still too many missing pieces to this large puzzle. But the sooner you fit everything together, the sooner it might be easier to get the fuck out of there.

After the first few bits of preparations for the ceremony, you retire back to the bedroom and prepare a bath for yourself. Geto has not yet returned from his typical duties, and you don’t really care to wait much longer. You shut off the main lights and lit some tea lights to rim the bath tub and help yourself to some of the Epsom salt and bath oils Geto likes to spoil you with from time to time. This might have been even better with a bath tray full of bountiful gourmet snacks, but you can do without them.

As you wait for the bath to fill up you reach for some other supplies. In the middle of twisting around you realize the mirror beginning to crack and a shard flies toward your hand and you shriek from the contact, frightened out of your wits as you scramble out of the restroom and slam the door shut. You can’t even see what attacked you; it just seems like it came out of nowhere and now you’re fully naked with a sliced up hand and as blood drips out from the large gashes you try desperately to dab it clean with a towel you still had in possession.

Geto rushes through the door upon hearing you scream, calling out your name —what timing—and his eyebrows flash upon seeing you so shaken up, like you’ve seen a ghost which in his world isn’t far off because you couldn’t perceive who or what had been in there with you.

Geto dashes to you what feels like seconds, careful in handling you as you try to babble some excuses over what happened, trying to tell him you’re fine and it’s just a few scratches but he hushes your rambling and tells you to calm down.

Funny words coming from a man who looks far from calm about this.

Geto gingerly grabs the injured hand. He inspects the cuts and gashes, his eyebrows furrowing into what almost seems something akin to concern. It almost looks like how he looks when he tries to express guilt for when Satoru takes things too far between the three of you.

“Who dared to do this to you?” he demands, his voice low, grainy, feral eyes meeting your frightened ones. “Who the hell did this to you?”

“I-it was an accident,” you stammer, struggling to form a coherent response and a little dazed as you take in what’s happening—he’s not just concerned, he’s absolutely furious. Not with you, but with what’s happened to you? Are you sure you’re not hallucinating this entire thing? “I-I was just trying t-to reach for something and s-something cut me. I couldn’t tell what it was and I—!”

His piercing violet gaze renders you nearly breathless, as you endlessly babble on and on and on trying to find the right words but he lets out a sigh out of irritation. It’s not directed at you.

“—Someone attached a curse to you,” he interrupts while a deep scowl stresses his features, his forehead wrinkling. “It’s one I don’t recognize. I’ll take care of the problem, but I’m taking you to the infirmary to get this taken care of or actually…”

He trails his finger along the edges of the largest gash on your hand, his touch gentle, tender, but also clinical like he’s trying to examine your wound like a medic. You grimace from the light sting from the contact, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. He mutters a half-hearted apology under his breath as he gathers some supplies to help clean and disinfect the wounds.

“I’ll take care of this myself,” he snarls in a sharper tone. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

He’s gentle with his handling of you, such a stark contrast to what you usually see from him. If you don’t know any better you might have glimpsed at something a bit more humane beneath the numerous layers of the role he’s forced into himself as some kind of deity. You know better than to trust what he chooses to show you. It’s all part of some grand scheme. That’s all he knows how to do; he’s a puppeteer. He knows how to string those around him along and it’s not just limited to you. You see that in how he slaps Satoru around like an obedient dog even if he claims to love him too. You can’t tell if a man like him understands what love really is.

If someone like him can truly love at all.

You examine his gestures with a quizzical look on your face. Nothing about this guy adds up at all; everything about him is a conundrum, a mystery. You don’t even understand the half of what kind of burdens that weighs so heavy on his shoulders.

“There,” he comments after a period of silence, inspecting your hand for any cuts or gashes he may have missed while tending to the wounds and ensuring everything is bandaged up. He cradles your hand in both of his, and your jaw slackens as you scrutinize him. It’s hard to make out what thoughts might be raging in his mind, but you’re shocked to find he truly is concerned for your safety.

"Suguru?” you inquire, tilting your head as you continue to search his eyes for something beyond what he chooses to display. You can’t understand it. Does he actually think you’d fall for this? That you’re going to believe he cares for you?

“You don’t have to speak,” he mutters as he leads you to the bed and gestures for you to rest on it. You follow his order without another word. One of his hands brushes through your hair as a way to ground himself, perhaps he’s grappling with what his next steps should be in figuring out who’s planted that curse he’s probably exorcised between this time and you haven’t realized it because you’re not yet gifted with the vision even with the aid of the talisman. He joins you on the bed and pulls you into him, his expression blank, unreadable. You take your uninjured hand and cup one of his cheeks, brushing your thumb against his skin.

“I’m alright now because of you,” you try to soothe him with false praise, but as long as he believes your words does it matter if they’re true or not? All you can ever say is what you know he wants to hear. No one ever likes the truth, especially when it hurts. “Thank you, Suguru.”

You bite down on your lip, snuggling yourself into him, just trying to bring him some semblance of reassurance, of comfort, something you wish you could have yourself but this brings you nothing but more and more resentment building a fortress around your heart. You feel him kiss you on your head again, hugging you close, breathing slow, controlled.

“No one should think of bringing harm to you,” he growls under his breath. “I’ll figure out who planted that curse and see to it that they’re executed on sight. No one should insult either of us like this.”

Your head snaps up at that. Both of you? Are your ears deceiving you? Why is he acting like this—? Why are you finding yourself falling for the act? Because that’s all this is to him, right? Just a little show?

“Suguru,” you begin tentatively, your hand dropping to his chest, drawing idle patterns as you usher for him to look at you. “Look at me; I’m fine now.”

Though I wish that curse offed me the chance it got, you think to yourself. Because if I can’t get out of here alive…

Geto grits his teeth at that, trying to find comfort in what you’re saying but failing; his grip around you constricts like squid arms and you feel your heart racing.

“I know,” he admits finally, loosening his grip as he steps out of bed. “You rest here. I need to take care of a few things. From tomorrow, we begin our fast.”

You nod and watch him as he ambles out of the bedroom, leaving you to dwell on everything.

Everything keeps making my head spin, you think, I don’t know what more to do…

Your eyes widen upon realization and you amble into the restroom to switch off the bath, thankful it hadn’t spilled over during all of this. As you perch on the edge of the tub, you hear the bedroom door creak open again and Geto returns, joining you in the restroom.

He’s brought you a bouquet of flowers, some more pain reliever, chocolates…

And you notice something else, a more bashful expression. Bashful. That’s something you’ve yet to witness from someone who prides himself on being composed and far too above such emotions.

He rests the bouquet of fresh red roses on the bathroom counter and rest the box of chocolates on your lap.

“Those are your favorite, aren’t they? You…mentioned that those were your favorite one time,” he mutters, his gaze averting elsewhere as though he’s trying not to make a big deal of this like he had just moments ago. “Are you alright?”

You blink, gripping the box of chocolates tightly.

“I am,” you whisper, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be fine. You exorcised whatever that was already, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he replies, his gaze landing on the broken area of the mirror. “We’ll get that repaired as well. It might have been a stray curse, but you never know. I’m not very well received in the world of jujutsu and their conservative ways, so they might’ve planted a few things for me here and there.”

Ah, paranoia. Always a fun look on a man who already has so many other issues.

“So you think that thing was really after you?” you ask him, fiddling with the box.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, sliding a finger down your cheek. “Or someone close to me.”

You don’t know how to respond to something like that. You go completely silent but he’s the one kneeling before you now, his hands resting on your knees.

“I see you were drawing a bath,” he comments in a low voice. “You’re free to do that now, of course. There’s nothing here to harm you anymore, Mamma.”

You nod, brushing your hand through his bangs, admiring how silky his hair feels. He takes such good care of it, and your fingers idly twirl a strand while you hum in response.

“Join me?” you invite him, and you catch him flushing slightly in response—yet another moment of bashfulness that’s so rare to see from him. You can’t believe what you’re asking, but this doesn’t have to be more than what it really is for you and that’s trying to fucking survive this torment.

His breath hitches but he stands up, disrobing before you and getting into the tub, the water sloshing a bit as he settles inside. He beckons you to follow and you do, allowing him to pull you onto his lap.

“You’re supposed to be safe here,” he says after a period of silence. You’re not really paying attention, focused on the way the flames on the tea lights still flicker every now and then. “You still are, as long as you’re with me.”

He can keep telling himself that, but you know your own truth, you rown reality. It’s a reality you sorely wish to escape from, but your spirit is beginning to fade.

The dreaded day arrives. As you are instructed to do, three days prior you have fasted alongside Geto as a way to honor the cult. It’s in a way seen as a spiritual awakening.

Following the first ceremony, there shall be a bountiful banquet that only shall be shared between the two of you; no other spectators so you can enjoy your first night as an officially wedded pair.

You stand close behind Geto before all of his devotees who are on a platform just below you. Nanako and Mimiko are hidden in the crowd somewhere, but you know they must be eager to finally see their efforts in making their father not be lonely actually work out for them. You so dearly wish to crush their spirits like they have yours…

The chanting from Geto’s followers begins softly, their voices murmuring in unison:

“Death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong…”

The words merge into a crescendo, echoing through the grand hall of the temple.

Ah, the classic prayer Geto scripts himself for his goons to chant to him and he soaks up the attention like he really is some kind of God. It can’t be further from the truth, but you figure here, that doesn’t matter. Here, Geto calls the shots. Geto is the man of the hour at all times. Now he expects you to share his throne even if this is not what you want for yourself.

“Death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong…”

Man, I knew the guy was full of himself, but this is just on another level, you think as you’re seated next to him on a raised platform as his followers kneel and pray to both you and him. They chant like soldiers at war. Their words echoing through the room. As one of his followers in a Time Vessel Association cloak ignites the large fire in the center of the room, that’s when the ceremony finally begins.

“Followers of Time Association, lend me your undivided attention on behalf of our Enlightened One, our Lord, and our King, Geto Suguru,” the follower wielding the dancing torch announces in a deafening tone to the rest of the room. Your gaze flits around each corner and you find Manami and Miguel standing at the very end of the room, observing the events. “Tonight, we gather to celebrate the union between our Lord, our King of the New World and his chosen bride. A worthy woman who has sworn herself to him.”

Such fucking lies, you think to yourself as your gaze flits downward to your hand, which is still healing from the gashes from your accident. Geto notices something amiss with you and rests his large hand over your injury free one, catching your attention. Your brows furrow as he gazes down at you with a blank expression. If you don’t know any better, you would have thought he was expressing concern for your wellbeing.

But you know if he truly cares he would not have put you through this.

As Geto is presented a knife with the Time Association engraving just like the one on your necklace, you wince as you watch him sink the blade ever so slightly to pierce the skin and draw a bit of blood before doing the same to you. You clench your eyes shut as you feel the slight sting but you can tell Geto is trying to be kind, to be gentle with you. He presses two fingers into the open wound and gathers a bit of blood to circle into your wound.

“Now your blood has been purified by mine,” he murmurs with a hint of affection—none of that condescending nonsense or something he often laces with some kind of ulterior motive. Nothing. Just pure affection and you can’t believe that you’re witnessing something like that from a scumbag like him. You see his eyes dilate ever so slightly. The follower returns with small bandages to conceal the small cuts.

Geto yanks you forward, closer to him, and he removes a bit of his yakata to showcase what he’s tattooed onto his collarbone. Your eyes widen into the size of saucers.

Your name. It’s etched into his skin in a royal blue ink. Something he has done to himself. The brilliant color seems to pulsate with some kind of energy one can barely perceive if they’re not actively looking for something else.

“We won’t force this of you, allow this to serve as a reminder of my loyalty and my love to you, my dear,” he tells you, his tone still abundant of affection and you almost want to scoff at him but you hold your tongue. This is not the time nor the place. No need to cause a scene before his loyal devotees.

He gestures you to stare ahead to the endless arrays of followers who still kneel before the two of you, filling the grand hall to the very brim. Nameless faces who continue to chant that fucking mantra like they actually believe in his cause but you know the truth. Many either join him out of obligation or something rather, something that aligns more with their agendas. Suda and Miguel are the only ones standing and Suda has her gaze averted elsewhere, like she can’t live with this.

“May everyone bear witness the bond between the worthy,” Geto bellows to the crowd as they all raise their heads in unison and cheer for all present for the ritual to hear. “Kneel before her. Pray to her now. For as long as she is by my side, she is a Goddess.”

His hand reaches out to brush your cheek with his knuckles. His expression melds into a soft one, and those sharp violet eyes flicker with something else—something almost human, the most human you’ve ever seen from someone who declares himself a deity, a pseudo-religious figure to a world outside of yours you still cannot wholly fathom. He must pity your lack of understanding but he hopes to bring you into his world, into this new world order where only pure sorcerers reign across Japan. Is Japan the only country he hopes to conquer?

The existence of sorcerers outside of Japan are rare; the existence of sorcerers altogether is rare—you’re from outside the country as is Miguel—but you’re dumbfounded by his spiel even still. None of it adds up. There has to be something you’re missing that’s just beyond what he preaches to his followers.

You just aren’t sure what that is.

“It wasn’t fate but chance that I met such a perfect specimen of woman,” he breathes, pecking your forehead in a shocking tender way. Such a goddamn mockery of what love should be, yet he believes fully in his feelings for you. You know better than to think he has any reason or logic behind anything he does or says. “You are now betrothed to me, as my Queen.”

What might have been a dream come true for any other woman in the world is nothing more than a cruel insult or joke to you. A wave of disgust overwhelms you, rearranging your insides like stew, and you find yourself clutching at your stomach as you fight back the tears threatening to spill from your exhausted eyes. The concealer Suda has used for your bridal makeup does wonders on concealing the deep dark eyebags.

You have never hated your very existence more than in this moment. There’s still another ritual to fulfill the following morning. A reception of sorts. A large feast. Geto showing you off to his lowly monkey followers like you’re some shiny beautiful object to him.

Suddenly you hear the sound of a classic band from the back of the room. The banging against Taiko drums drones through the room, soon accompanied by other traditional instruments. Geto leads you to a an empty area of the room, leading you into a slow dance.

It’s difficult to maneuver in a kimono but you follow his lead, your eyes never leaving his as there’s a layer of tenderness in them that takes your breath away for real this time. Your breath catches in your throat as he twirls you around before pulling you back into him. You’re engulfed in the heat from his body; you shiver under the weight of his affectionate gaze that feels so much more like a mockery to what a union between two souls should be. If he really believes this is real then you remember there’s nothing you can do to change his mind.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t find a way to work with this.

The music keeps at a slowed, even tempo as he guides you across the floor. You ignore the endless stares from his devotees, some still chanting that fucking mantra as he focuses on you. His hands slide lower to rest on your waist, twisting you away from the observers’ direct view like he’s trying to protect you from their scrutiny.

“I love you,” Geto calls to you again and your head snaps up to meet his gaze, still shockingly tender. Those violet eyes still glimmer with that intensity but it’s softer, affectionate. Gentle. All the things he’s so, so far from in your book. He tilts your head upward with two slender fingers tucked beneath your chin and you hold your composure the best that you can—fearful of causing a scene in front of all of his ‘subjects.’ “I adore you. Let’s retire for the day. We should eat at that banquet they’ve prepared for us and rest up for tomorrow.”

You glance away, a tear escaping your left eye. “O-okay…”

He wipes away the stray tear, tutting at your reluctance.

“A life with me is better than a life in that circus out there,” he hisses under his breath, words only you’re meant to hear. “Trust me. You’ll come to find this is a blessing in disguise, one day.”

That day may never come. However, you do pick up on something floating above him. A much clearer image of a curse, a small one resembling a rodent hovering just above Geto’s head.

This is the first time you’re ever able to see one even if your vision is still a bit faint, and suddenly you have to fight back the twitching of your lips as realization dawns upon you.

This is the seed that’s planted—your ticket out of there. Now all that’s left is to set everything in motion.

[daboyau]

I got an idea when looking at this post by @tangledinink. I couldn’t rest until I’d jotted it down. The art possessed me like an evil spirit. warnings for body horror, vomiting, general fuckery. 💚

what probably happened directly before Leo found himself in this situation:

Leo: Fairies? No way those sparkly little assholes are real.

The fae who happened to be within earshot: and i took that personally.

Anyway, here we gooooo:

Leo opens his mouth to scream, but the sound won’t come out. He gags on the feeling of it catching inside his throat, and then again when the trapped scream begins to grow thorns. It scrapes its way up, and he claws desperately at his throat, trying to tear the feeling out, falling to his knees as he gags around the forced silence.

The threat of suffocation is enough to tear his attention, however briefly, away from the horror of what is happening to his shell. His body is changing itself on the urging of some other thing’s whims, and even though his nerves didn’t seem to get the memo that a dissolving shell (you know, the thing that most of his internal organs and, like, half of his bones need to stay inside his body?) should probably hurt a lot, he can still feel it.

He retches as the first flower falls from his lips. It hits the ground with a disgustingly wet sound, coated with bile and saliva. It shines wetly, rich orange hues standing out brightly against the black soil. The rest follow shortly after, a painful deluge of familiar colors, and he’s helpless to do anything but dig his fingers deep into the rich soil and try not to let the horrific impossibility of the situation drive him crazy. Tears flow freely, staining his cheeks before they fall to the ground below, greedily absorbed by the cursed earth of this place.

“Oh, dear,” a voice says, too close for him not to have noticed their presence. He tries to jerk back, but he can’t pull his fingers from the dirt. It hurts when he tries. A high pitched whine escapes his throat, but he’s too terrified to be embarrassed by that. The voice shushes him, soothes him, and warm fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck. They come to rest just above where the lip of his shell should be. He sobs at the way his back squirms as heat shoots down his spine and something begins to grow. The furred fingers drag like velvet against his scales as they squeeze, the sharp prick of claws threatening to break skin, and then release him just as suddenly. 

“So much sorrow and pain. And, oh, so many regrets,” the thing says as she circles him, humming a tune that makes his head pound in rhythm with his racing heart. His hands have sunk beneath the black soil, and it has begun licking greedily at his wrists as well. He can feel tendrils of something wet and cold winding themselves around his fingers, and he wants to scream again, but the bursts of bile-soaked colors decorating the ground keep him from opening his mouth. He can feel a petal still clinging to his bottom lip, and when the thing kneels before him, she reaches out to pluck it off, unbothered by the way he shrinks as far away from her touch as he can manage.

She slips it between her lips, and he catches a flash of a blackened tongue as it darts out to meet that single purple petal. Her teeth are sharp when she smiles at him. They hadn’t been sharp, when she’d first approached him in the Hidden City. Nothing about her had been.

In the dim lights of the underground world he and his brothers had only recently begun to explore, she had looked soft. He’d seen her approaching, and the first thought to flit through his head was, aw, bunny. A fluffy, rounded face. Big eyes, dark and deep as a still pond as they reflected the flickering neon of a sign in the shop window behind him. A pink nose had twitched when she’d smiled at him, sweet and kind, and asked him for his name. 

(What had he told her?)

Now, she would be unrecognizable, if not for the same strawberry patterned dress that drapes over her stretched out frame. He’d think to compare her to a hare now, but the hares he’d seen when watching Animal Planet with mikey had never looked like they would take delight in tearing his nails off one by one or plucking out his eyeballs. They had never made his vision swim or his body shake when he’d looked at them. Maybe she’s become more of a wolf.

The soil has reached his elbows. Those cool, slimy tendrils have circled his wrists like shackles. They’re squeezing tighter and tighter, and he feels his fingers throb and tingle as circulation is cut off. 

His mind flashes briefly to raph and how he used to tell them not to wear rubber bands on their wrists, convinced that their hands would fall right off if they got squeezed too tight. He wonders if the things that live beneath the dirt will steal what they’ve claimed, just like she’s stollen his shell. Another sound wants to bubble up his throat at the thought, and he lets it, because what use is a swordsman without his hands?

The hysterical giggles escape as big, iridescent bubbles. They glitter pink and blue and leave a bitter taste on his tongue. They only float a few feet into the air before they fall back to the ground, their attempt to flee the horror of this situation not getting too far at all. Soft green grass rises up from the dirt to catch them, but they do not pop. They rest, suspended on those tiny blades, for far longer than any bubble he’s ever blown before. He watches, transfixed, as his laughter is eventually swallowed by green. It begins to spread.

A hand cradles his chin, and his gaze jerks back to the thing that brought him here. She is watching him intently, eyes darting to take in every tiny change in his expression. She looks curious, in the same way that donnie does when he’s thinking about all the ways he can take something apart, and what he can do with those pieces to create something better. 

Her hand is soft where it touches him. She is gentle as she wipes a cloth across his mouth. It feels like water, soothing and cool, and he finds himself leaning into this tiny offer of comfort among the stomach churning violation of what is being done to him. His eyes flutter, and he distantly registers that the face she wears seems to swim before his eyes with each rapid blink, shifting back and forth between bunny and wolf and something other. She looks like she wants to devour him whole, no matter which face she wears.

From this close, he can see the way her eyes sparkle and dance when she smiles. He can’t help but think that maybe being swallowed whole wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after all. 

The writhing shackles around his wrists tighten. 

She laughs, breathy and soft, and the sound is layered and beautiful like wind chimes. It conjures a hurricane inside his mind. Her cool breath gusts over his face. It smells like churned dirt and funeral flowers and pustulous rot. He doesn’t know if he wants to gag or breathe deeper. 

“Little blossom,” she croons, cupping both his cheeks, dragging their faces close. He doesn’t resist. She giggles, and she drags those soft hands and those sharp claws down his neck and over his shoulders, fingertips bumping against the disgustinghorriblewrongparasitetumor gathering of delicate buds that have sprouted up all across his back. She pinches one between the pads of her fingers, and he wants to screamcrybeghertostoppushherawaycutherdownandtearthemalloutbytheroots be good for her.

“Little blossom,” she says again, and those dark eyes catch his gaze and hold it as a heavy feeling settles against his skin, across his shoulders, around his neck, and he can’t look away no matter how desperately he tries. But he doesn’t want to try. Her smile stretches wider, wider, and for one brief flicker of a second he can see blood on her teeth as she asks, “Do you believe now?”

.

(Side note just for fun. The flowers that appear in this but aren’t actually described or named are:

Orange marigold, for grief and despair

Purple hyacinth, for sorrow and asking for forgiveness

Red cyclamen, for goodbye and resignation

Yellow zinnia, for missing a friend and remembrance

Bluebells, for gratitude and everlasting love 

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

(smiling evilly) i have plans for october that you will all be pleased with

[viktortittiforov]

the 2010s sure were a time in my life

[wavernot4love]

hello i see ag 2morrow for the second show of boom done tour i am so excited

i haven't been to a show since thursday @ the end of january in typical northeast "no one, quite understandably, tours here in the winter" fashion & i very much need this i am so very much looking forward 2 it also this is gonna be a GREAT month 4 shows

[t4tstarvingdog]

nothing like a father. well.

[bsaka7]

I am NORMAL about seeing family I am NORMAL I am NOT nauseous I have DEFINITELY thought about packing I TOTALLY have already done my shopping from the work gift shop

[risingsunresistance]

as of right now i'm on track to finish all my capstone stuff the weekend before hypixel's anniversary, so i'll get to actually enjoy it at the dorm aaaaaaa

prepare your dash for 4/13 (not THAT 4/13 tho, just a fantastic coincidence) and then the resistance anniversary 3 days after that 👍

[hauntingblue]

Jaya time

I love these moments of nearly cosmic horror when they encounter inexplicable things (at first) they are so intriguing

Is strawhat here?! *Megan thee stallion saying AAH 😜*

This cover just goes hard... Get it chopper

[starkwlkr]

happy life, happy wife | hugh jackman

an: “you attract what you fear” GUYS IM SO SCARED OF A 55 YEAR OLD AUSTRALIAN 😭 definitely thinking about making marvel actress!reader x hugh an actual series… i have ideas

marvel actress!reader

Deadpool & Wolverine Press tour - Hot Ones

Hugh felt like he was going to die. Each wing was getting hotter and hotter, but immediately when he heard his wife’s name he forgot all about the spice.

“Hugh, your wife is part of the Avengers, how does it feel having your wife be part of such a huge franchise? Have you two talked about a potential team up with the X-men and the Avengers?” Sean asked.

“My wife . . . Oh god, I think I’m crying-”

“I can’t tell if you’re legitimately dying or completely in love with your wife.” Ryan told Hugh.

“Wait . . I am completely in love with my wife and I would legitimately die for her.” Hugh gasped as he rearranged Ryan’s words.

“Is that in the contract she made you sign when you married her? ‘I vow to die for you’. My contract said I had to give all my money to my kids and wife.” Ryan said.

“No, she’s amazing, um, if I start talking about her I think I might go on for hours,” he laughed. “Our kids do want to see their parents fighting the bad guys together. We would love to team up, maybe it could happen.” Hugh smiled.

“The entire movie would be them making out and her beating the shit out of you. I’d pay to see that.” Ryan added.

•••

Comic Con 2024

Like RDJ, your last Marvel movie had been Avengers: Endgame. After being in ten mcu films, it was time to say goodbye to your character.

But that was in 2019.

At this years comic con, you were back. The cast of Deadpool & Wolverine had taken the stage and showed their appreciation for the fans. After their panel, it was time to announce Marvel’s upcoming projects. Kevin Feige announced the Fantastic Four, Thunderbolts, Captain America 4, and finally the new Avengers movies, which everyone was extremely excited about.

After showing the title card for the upcoming Avengers film, Kevin turned to the audience.

“Something people have been asking, as of late, is who the heck is going to direct these two movies?” The audience clapped.

From the side of the stage, you were nervous. What if the fans didn’t like the idea of you directing the next two Avengers films? Your worrying caused Hugh to come to your rescue.

“Hey, they loved you as an Avenger, they will love you even more.” Hugh kissed your forehead. “If anyone says anything about this decision, they have me to deal with.”

You laughed at his words. “I really love you so much.”

“Love you too, bub.” Hugh was about to kiss you when Ryan cut in.

“I really love us too. I convinced half of the people here that we’re a throuple.” He said in the most serious tone ever.

Kevin announced you as the director. Your doubt of the fans not liking the announcement was proven wrong when you walked the stairs to the stage and stood next to Kevin. They cheered when they saw you were back.

As you said a few words, thanking Marvel, Kevin and the fans, you were being recorded by Hugh, who was being recorded by Ryan.

“That’s my wife!” Hugh cheered from backstage, holding his phone in his hand.

“She’s Marvel Jesus now, holy shit!”

•••

WIRED autocomplete interview

“Is Hugh Jackman married?”

“Yes, to me, Y/n, probably to half the population,” Ryan answered. “He’s Australia’s biggest slut.”

“All the times, I proposed.” Hugh laughed. “But yes, I am married and I love my wife very much. She’s stuck with me forever.” He lifted his hand to show off the wedding band.

“Funny, because she texted me right now. Her and Blake are in the courthouse getting married. So Deadpool three was actually made so our wives could divorce us and marry each other.”