#Why does she get to come back. Why her and not my parents ? Were my parents not loved enough ?

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy Happiness?

"I want that new money. Crisp money, Straight-from-the-mint money. Fresh money. Young money. Push against the tide~" New Money from the Great Gatsby.

Yan?Batfam x Neglected!F!Reader

Pt. 1

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

You know I've never pegged myself as the type to be too careless and get hit by a truck, because I'm not, that truck rammed into me and I was on the sidewalk, so, if I wake up, I'm suing.

That's what I thought would happen if I woke up in my world. newsflash, and spoilers, I seemed to wake up in this cliche bat family story as the neglected girl. This is actually the story "I Stole the Loving Family of the Villainess."

We follow around a girl named Serena, a cute name, by the way. It fits her as the female lead. She has blond hair and blue eyes, and multiple love interests, from Connor Kent to Wally West, and so on. She is adopted by the royal family, the Waynes.

And do you see this cute portrait with her in the middle brothers to the left, sisters to the right, parents on each side of her, oh and how can I forget even the main bulter, and can you see that small blot of paint, if you squit a little more. Ah- there I am.

That blot of paint- that's me.

While I'm monologing this I'm PUSHING SERENA DOWN THE STAIRS.

You know you can't help but feel bad for me like I'm the legitimate daughter and I get nothing.

Yes, you hear this my bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes. I'm the Villainess. If you guys spent less time fondling over the basic y/n of a female lead you realize how miserable [name] is as a character.

Her mom is too busy caring for her other siblings that she finds it too bothersome to deal with the least talented or least intelligent that goes for Alfred too because, in this story, we're royalty meaning more than one maid and butler, so why waste your time when you can have someone else do it.

Doesn't help that [name] has ears so she hears every mocking word that is uttered by her servants.

And of course, the main family does not give a pinky toe if she dies so that's so cool.

So [name] being a cliche Villainess is exactly stupid and untalented but all she wanted was her family's love and affection which is why she kept sabotaging Serena, which led her to her death.

Getting her memories suck, I mean my ego that was skyrocketing got hit with a pebble which is not a lot but that's because my ego is huge, this girl put herself down so much that I swear if her self-esteem was a rock she'd be crushed by now.

I mean the size of her self-esteem was so low it would be the opposite of my ego.

I mean how can it not be high? I'm rich, pretty, intelligent, and I've had diplomas in more than one field, Mary Sue? More like Barbie. I'm perfect, in more ways than one, except for relationships I've lacked in that department but I've never had one before so does that count? No.

Did I mention I was rich?

So anyway got her memories, it's so... tragic, but don't worry snookums because even in this life there's one defining trait that I still have, I'm rich. Okay, so not rich out of my pocket, I am a princess umkay, but I wasn't a woman in multiple men's fields for nothing.

Anyway back to the case in point, before I "woke" up [name] was having an impulse, her hands were itching to shove this one good orphaned girl that stole her place in the family, what timing do I have to come back right when [name] decided to take action on the impulse.

Hey, at least a perk of being the main character is that you don't take any damage whether that be physically inside or out. But I don't think the family will let it slide they are yanderes.

Yandere is a term for a character who is initially normal but soon develops an obsessive-compulsive grip on the person they like.

"I-I don't know one second I was walking down the stairs and the next I f-fell... but the only person behind me was [n-name]" Serena whimpered, ah- yes the struggles of a female lead the stuttering.

"[name] I can't believe you shoved Serena! This is-" Meet Palmola, my mother.

"So what?"

"Huh?" Palmola's eyes widened.

No in fact the whole family's eyes were in shock.

Since [name] would always make some batshit crazy excuse like the ghost of Grandpa pushed her or something. But why lie, I did shove her, for a good reason too.

"She walks so slow and sloppy, does she have any etiquette? I hope she would, with the amount of time she likes to spend with you Palmola. Fast, efficient, but proper. You did drill that into my head since I was young, didn't you? You even got mad when I did it wrong, is it so wrong I treat her like how I was treated?"

"Young lady-!"

"We'll discipline her later, Serena are you alright? Here take my arm sweetheart." Bruce let Serena wrap her arm around his.

The siblings paired up with each other, and Palmola took one of her son's arms. Leaving me with no one. A normal occurrence, at first it did numbers in the social circles, and still does, so each time I was left embarrassed. How annoying.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Gotham Empire, The Waynes."

Everyone flocked to each of the family but mainly focused their attention on Serena, whether it be her face, jewelry, dress, or how sweet she was compared to me.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Metro Empire, The Kents." Meet two of the love interests that right she goes for the big brother and the little brother, originally I'm engaged to Connor, but tonight that would change, the engagement is getting annulled, and his reason to the court is "I have set my eyes on someone new, and with many competitors, I can't lose."

It wasn't hard for anyone to know who it was, I think the only one that didn't notice was Serena herself.

Actually, this was a huge arc in the story when all the love interests fight for her love, there was no victor as she did the poly relationship, which really confuses me doesn't she need to make many offspring for each of the families respectable titles, you can't just combine into one entire thing, can you? That be very messy, I guess you could just give away titles but then who gets-

Anyway, that had a lot of readers mad, usually the whychoose situation would be okay, but she mainly focused on Conner so there was actually no reason to choose this route.

Never mind, that's a conversation for another day that I'll just forget.

Connor approaches me grabbing both my hands, attracting attention.

"[name] there's something I have to confess..."

"You're breaking off the engagement"

"I'm breaking- wait what?"

"You've found someone new, that has many competitors and you can't lose a battle you haven't even tried winning, I get it. But I'd like a downpayment of 10,000 gold and you can give the 490,000 gold later to my personal account and we call it even. Deal?" Hustling, though it's a 50/50 shot with many deals with enough eyes on us I'm sure he'll give in.

"S-sure, right. Right- I'll get that to you immediately-" I gave his hand a firm shake before heading off to the...

If you guessed balcony you're wrong, I'm heading over to the food table.

"Did just see what happened?"

"Is she planning something?"

"500,000 gold?!"

"Sister, what are you planning?" Barbara came over.

Also, who calls their sibling sister, like sure, that works.

"What do you mean?"

"That marriage was meant to connect our kingdoms, you'd let that go so easily, and we both know your gaze on Connor, what are you planning." She spoke through her fan, in a hushed voice.

If I made a scene as to not let him go I'd be embarrassing you guys, but if I show that I'm okay with him leaving me I'm ruining a political standing that wouldn't even work out, I'd still do something wrong.

"Have some decorum sister, we haven't had a proper conversation in years, and this is the first thing you say to me? Typical Barbara you think you know everything since you're older and more "mature""

You could tell Barbara didn't take that lightly as she gripped the fan handle tightly, I literally didn't even do anything.

"I'll spare you from any more veins popping up on that face, don't be an ass, we both knew Connor is in love with Serena and that me begging him not to break the engagement would only bring shame onto our family, so I did us both a favor and ended it." I tossed my hair back before grabbing some croissants that were covered in chocolate, powdered sugar, and some strawberries.

Life really is great.

"What about the scandal that would break out."

"Again, it would break out either way, now do me a favor and go back to your group they're staring at me and it's ruining the snack that I have on my plate."

She let out a deep breath before heading off.

Speaking of which I'd rather have a place to place my food and eat it, pretty sure there's a table in the garden under the gazebo if I remember correctly and I don't but whatever.

Just to find a moping Jon.

"Should you be out here?"

"It's unfair once again he gets to have everything"

Oh? Do tell.

I raised an eyebrow at him cutting my croissant in half before placing a half in front of him.

He finally looks up his face turned shocked like I was a ghost or something.

"[name]?!"

I bit into my croissant, nodding.

"Why'd you have to go and break off the engagement, now I have Connor as competition."

I knew this happened in the novel but I just remembered how young he was he's around Damian's age and I'm about the same age as Serena so this was a cry for help.

"Why do you even like Serena?"

"I don't really, it's just... I wanted something that he couldn't obtain he was going to be the first in line, and he's just better than me in lots of things because he has training so I thought, at least I had Serena."

Sometimes I forget that back then age gaps had no restrictions.

"That just means fewer responsibilities anyway, aren't you a little too young to be worrying about any of that? Now, I brought over this croissant but since I'm nice I gave you half." I ruffled his hair and he tried to swipe it away.

"I guess you're right." He started gobbling the desert down.

Honestly, I don't even know why this was a love interest he's literally a minor, maybe that's why the author got backlash against that and the novel was an overall dumpster fire with a basic self-insert MC.

I don't know what's worse the fact that they kept dragging on the storyline or the fact that I'm now in the storyline.

I mean seriously he only liked her because of the plot, he got over this situation so quickly that you wouldn't even know why he was moping earlier.

-

Now back to the circumstance at hand I was at home and seems the family never forgot about me shoving Serena down the stairs, they almost forgot about me breaking off the engagement.

"... what if she got a scratch on her face? Or if the clothes ripped?! Are you listening to me?!" I zoned out for a good second.

See we had gone back to the castle and they kept rambling on and on about what could've happened to Serena had the fall been more steep or rough, but like does she even have even status to attend these events in the first place?

"Since you seem to not care about this we're cutting you off of money for the next month!" She hollered in my ear once more.

"What were you thinking at the ball?" Tim cut into Palmola's ramblings.

"Normalize giving contexts, Tim." He scoffed.

"I was sparring with Kon the other day and he made some bogus statement saying he was breaking off the engagement, I didn't think he would do it, but allowing him to? Have you any idea what this caused?"

"Who am I to stop Crown Prince Connor, Tim? He has a woman to chase, and wasn't going to give it up for this contracted engagement." I glanced at Serena who flinched and hid behind Jason.

"I still doubt that you'd let him go that easily, you've been obsessed with him since you laid eyes on him."

"And you know that because you're my caring younger brother or because you like to throw it in my face on the downfalls of my life?"

"[name]!" Palmola scolded me.

Bruce could only sigh at the scene.

"Palmola!" I retorted, bringing a tense atmosphere to occur.

Alfred arrived at the scene handing me a letter.

"To you, Princess [name]." I opened it to see the rest of the money that Connor promised me had been added to my account even with the 10,000.

I'm rich, but this is just the start.

"If that's all I'll be heading back to my room." I tossed my hair back before ordering the maids to prepare my bath.

"You're taking too long," I told the maids who were congregating among themselves instead of doing their jobs.

"Well, usually, Princ- I mean Lady Serena wouldn't mind-"

"Do I look like her?" I gripped the maid's chin.

"Don't worry, since it bothers you so much to draw me a bath you can pack your things up and leave tomorrow, you're fired." I pushed back my hair in agitation.

"What-"

"Did you not hear me, you're fired, don't make too much noise, go on." I shooed her away.

She just dropped to her knees and started begging me, but I made the other maids drag her out now all of a sudden they wanted to switch up and act proper.

"Now, with that out of the way, someone draw my bath." I rolled my eyes.

I do not condone maid abuse, but what's the point of working here if you don't do your job? So firing is the only option.

3RD POV

"That girl- I swear I don't know where she got that attitude from, did you see the way she talked to me?!" Palmola scoffed.

Duke could only think about how [name] seemed different actually the whole family could be thinking about that.

Damian kept stroking Titus' fur while thinking about how [name] didn't just keep her head down and take his insults. Wait- now that he phrases it like that, it sounds really bad.

Tim just thought about his friend Connor, he had been the one that Connor ranted to about how annoying his sister was but he didn't think [name] would take the cancelation of the engagement that easily, he thought [name] would least throw a tantrum at best. And since earlier he noticed how [name] looked at them at the stairway after. [name] looked at them like they were lower than her.

Dick was processing the whole thing, did [name] always talk like she didn't care for their approval? I mean [name] spoke like this could've been a letter delivered to her door instead of an important conversation. This conversation was important, [name] hurt Serena and canceled a political connection of a lifetime, he could feel a headache approaching.

Jason could only blink at the audacity, sometimes when this happened [name] at least looked like she gave a darn but not only was she okay with that Connor boy leaving her, but also being cut off [name] would at least beg for some forgiveness. But nothing...?

Stephanie would've had a jaw-dropping expression right now, but had her fan covering her mouth, holy lord did that really just happen? I mean [name] did not even try to bother her at the ball but she also gave up the man she bothered until her final breath and 500,000 gold?! That's an insane amount one and two when did [name] learn to negotiate?

Cassandra felt confused about what had just gone down, did she hear that right? That whole thing, just what occurred? [name] changed in two seconds, like she blinked, Serena tumbled down the stairs and then she just acted strange.

(What you're sticking up for yourself? That's criminally insane right there.)

Barbara had already dealt with how [name] did a 180 at the ball but she just thought that was because she thought she had a wedgy at the moment, though in general [name] had never done this so what happened this time?

Bruce well who knows what he's thinking he just looks constipated like isn't supposed to be saving Gotham in another life?/j

Bruce sat there, he didn't raise [name] like that, wait-. He didn't raise [name] at all... Is this his fault that [name] was acting out right now? No, he's been busy and with all the duty of the empire on his hands he couldn't pause it for [name], like yes, he does that for Serena sometimes- all the time but that's different she had a hard childhood growing up.

Serena, well, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. For the first time, something didn't go her way. And what was that attitude, who did [name] think she was? She shouldn't even act like that, at this point, everyone knows she's supposed to be in her position. I mean look at her.

So it's time to be the center of attention. Wouldn't you think?

Serena let out a few sniffles catching the attention.

"It's all my fault that she's in a bad mood, I'm sorry."

The family quickly came to comfort her. Never mind what they were thinking before, how could [name] be such a child in this situation?

After taking a nice bath and sneezing I was now changed into my nightgown. These things are nice.

I took [name]'s diary, so was not thinking, writing down her devious plans here, one of the reasons she was caught and executed, and she couldn't rebut it as they had proof.

So I'll do us both a favor and burn it.

Tossed into the flame I could only stare at the burning journal.

Another burning pile.

I should sleep I have a lot of plans tomorrow, and only a few months till school starts.

With a flick of my wrist, the candles blew out and the doors shut.

One perk about this world is the powers.

(H2O just add water)

So instead of actually writing the next part for any other series of mine I decided to make a new writing idea 🌝, I'm also making others in my brain as we speak but we're going to keep them there until I finish at least one of my series.

Anyway did you like it?

I'm going back to work now (writing), *le sigh*.

Happy early Lunar New Year though, I'm manifesting a lot of red envelopes to myself and many others!

If there's anything too cringy, plot holey, or grammatically wrong, do inform me!

[ckret2]

Bill's getting a makeover from Pacifica!! Yaaay

And what good will it do him?

Here's chapter 83 of human Bill Cipher being more of a prisoner in his body than in the Mystery Shack by this point: the shack's decided that the only possible thing that can save them from certain doom is getting Bill to flirt with a government agent, and Pacifica's recruited to help.

She does NOT know who her customer is.

####

"Folks, I'm not exaggerating when I say that out of all my duties as mayor, there's no greater honor than getting to host the county's annual Best Baby Ever Pageant and meeting all your beautiful and talented children. When I look in each young shape's bright little eye, and know that in this room are this county's future priests, police officers, teachers, doctors, entrepreneurs, maybe even the mayor of tomorrow... It gives me hope for the future." The mayor lowered his voice conspiratorially, "And it doesn't hurt that I get to declare it a city holiday and lock town hall's door for the day, either."

The parents in the audience chuckled appreciatively. Their children, who would have had the day off anyway and frankly found this a whole lot more work, mostly didn't.

"But all good things must come to an end, and we've reached the end of this year's competition." The mayor gestured to the contestants behind him, lined up in front of a temporary backdrop with a cheapy, shiny curtain. Most of the contestants were being held by a parent, but a few were old enough to fidget in front of the crowd all alone. "We've awarded all the individual prizes for each age bracket—which have gone to kids with any number of sides, with ages ranging everywhere from five years old to five hours old—and now all we have left is this year's grand prize!"

An enormous trophy waited to the mayor's side. It was plastic and hollow, but it was painted gold and taller than most of the children.

The mayor said, "And the winner of this year's Best Baby Ever award is... " Someone at the back of the hall played a pre-recorded drumroll through a tinny speaker. "The overall winner from the Age 0-6 Months category—Billy Cipher!"

Scalene let out a squeal of excitement that was audible over the applause. Bill startled awake in her arm and blinked sleepily around the room.

Several of the other parents on stage surreptitiously shot Scalene dirty looks—of course her kid had won, who could deny a newborn a prize on his birthday? It would be adorable. The judges had probably leaped at the opportunity.

Scalene shifted Bill in front of herself so the audience could see him better and so she could flash a hidden razor-sharp grin to a couple of her defeated rivals. That was exactly why she'd brought him today.

"Congratulations," the mayor said, placing a very tiny crown atop Bill. Bill endured this with patient, sleepy befuddlement. "Billy will be going home with the grand prize trophy and cash prize—as well as a full set of cutlery from our sponser, Knifeco Knives! But of course we'll hand that to mama to handle," he chuckled. "And the top winners from the other brackets will receive four-piece cutlery gift sets from Knifeco, which include—"

Scalene snatched the microphone from the mayor, jabbed him aside with one corner, and gushed to the crowd, "Thank you so much! I'm sure I'm speaking for my little Billy when I say just how grateful and honored he'll be when he's old enough to understand what a gift you've given him." She beamed out at the crowd, her flashy candy apple red makeup (she'd hastily slathered herself in side liner on her way to the pageant) drowning out every other shape on the stage—except for the naturally neon yellow infant in her arm. "As some of the pageant regulars—"

The mayor said, "Scalene, we didn't actually schedule time for the winners to make speeches—"

She sweetly whispered, "No one wants to hear about the sponsor, Otto," and pushed him aside. "As some of the pageant regulars here already know—I see you out there, hello!—I'm a pageant queen myself—(Miss Teen Curvy Strait three separate years!)—so, as a new mother, I'm so pleased that my little golden child is following in the family footsteps. I..."

The spotlights were blazing hot. She didn't understand how Bill—now wide awake again—could stare straight into the piercing lights without even blinking. Maybe he was blind; it would figure, considering what the afterbirth looked like.

Her knees were weak. Her sides screamed in pain. She shifted her grip to hold Bill more securely and to try to coax the sharpest spot of pain on that side to migrate to a fresh spot, shook off a wave of dizziness, and went on, "I hope that this is just the first of many future crowns for me—myyy sweet little Billy, ahem. I can promise you'll be seeing a lot of him in... in the..."

With a thud, she passed out and collapsed against the theater backdrop.

A nearby child squeaked in alarm.

"Scalene?!" Euclid was at the back of the audience, having snuck in during the closing ceremonies and hovered near the door where he could at least hear as the winners were announced. Now, as the mayor and several other pageant parents rushed to Scalene's side, he shoved his way through the crowd. "Move, that's my wife! Dang it, I told you to use your cane!"

One of the other mothers pulled out a copy of the program and fanned Scalene's eye. The mayor scooped up Bill and checked him for injuries. "Are you alright, little tri?"

Still too small to move himself, his eye darted in a panic to his mother's face, to the bright bright spotlights, to his mother again, to the blurry blue of his father buried deep in a sea of other shapes, to the mayor and the many strange faces crowded around him—and then he swallowed back his oversized eye to open his mouth and wail.

Which was the exact moment the stage curtain caught fire.

####

A bearded man with his hair done up in black liberty spikes and a spider web tattoo climbing up his left arm watched as Pacifica dumped several shopping bags of makeup onto her desk. "This visitor must be really important. You never pass up doing these guys' weekly grooming." He was sitting on the barn floor, brushing an alpaca with long, silky white hair.

"You have no idea." Pacifica stuffed the shopping bags in the wastebasket surreptitiously hidden under her far-too-big U-shaped executive desk, and quickly sorted the beauty supplies into their proper order of operations.

"Didn't you say it's Mabel and one of her friends? Mabel's here all the time."

"It's not just any friend, Spiderwebs!" Pacifica pulled a locket out of a desk drawer, ran over to Spiderwebs, and popped it open. "It's this friend! I've never met him before, all I know is that he has the most gorgeous hair I've ever seen. I have got to make a good first impression."

Spiderwebs and the alpaca inspected the locket's contents. He said, "You've never met him and you've got some of his hair in a locket?"

Pacifica flushed. "Th— Shut up!" She snapped the locket shut and stuffed it in a pocket. "I had the locket just lying around anyway, it's whatever."

At the sound of voices outside, Pacifica gasped. "They're here! Do I look okay?!"

Spiderwebs—whose entire outfit cost less than Pacifica's left sock and who quite frankly found the amount of makeup Pacifica wore concerning for a child her age—said, "Sure, fine."

"Great!" Pacifica bounced on the balls of her feet, squealed in excitement, and ran outside to greet Mabel and her friend. "Heyyy there! I'm Pacifica Northwest, it's so nice to meet—" She froze, "you..."

Before her stood a person with the most beautiful golden hair she'd ever seen.

Which was attached to a lady in a t-shirt, an eyepatch, a bedsheet, and cheap novelty slippers that look like fish. 

On top of that, the lady was mildly sunburned (obviously no moisturizer), wasn't wearing a bra, was leaning on an umbrella like a cane, clearly hadn't shaved in a while, had a very obvious fake tooth, had a weird bulgy eye, sort of smelled like fish (please don't let it be the slippers), and, to cap it all off, was fat.

Pacifica was working on herself. She was trying to unlearn the lessons about beauty she'd learned from her mom, and from the child pageant circuit, and from all her judgy friends, and from the modeling industry. She was slowly getting comfortable with the idea that physical beauty wasn't everything.

However. So far, that meant she'd been working on accepting ideas like it's okay if sometimes I'm an 8/10 instead of a 10/10. She had not yet tackled the far more daunting proposition of internalizing concepts like it's okay if sometimes other people are ugly.

Which was a problem, if she was going to give this person a makeover.

She swallowed hard and rearranged her expectations for the afternoon.

"Hey Pacifica!" Mabel beamed at her. "Thanks sooo much helping! This is Goldie, he's your customer. Goldie, this is Pacifica." Mabel gasped. "Giorgio, you're lookin' so fiiiine!" She ran into the barn to greet the alpaca Spiderwebs was grooming.

Leaving Pacifica outside with a stranger with a very creepy smile. Pacifica said, "Ummm..."

"The feeling's mutual, haha." On top of everything else, Goldie had a weird, nasally voice.

He, Mabel had said. "Hey, um," said Pacifica, who had never actually been in this position before and wasn't quite sure the polite way to handle it, "not to be rude, but... are you a guy, orrr...?"

"I'm whatever makes this conversation easiest. Don't overthink it!" He swept around Pacifica, hands clasped behind his back and around his umbrella, and sauntered into the barn. Which was kind of impressive, because fish-shaped slippers didn't seem designed for sauntering.

"So... guy?" Pacifica tried.

"For you? Sure," Goldie said indulgently. "Our target's expecting a lady, though, so—" Without turning toward Pacifica, he gestured up-and-down at his body. "Expect to femme this thing up."

Pacifica bit her lips as she swallowed down the most profound disappointment of her life so far, readjusted her expectations for the evening, and figured out what to say. She may not have unlearned the instinct to be shallowly judgmental, but she'd at least made progress on learning to keep it in her head. Most of it. Some—some of it. She'd keep some of it to herself. "Oh-kay. I don't know what Mabel told you, but—just so you know, I'm not running some charity barbershop for the homeless, all right? I'm a professional. I take looks seriously. I'm not going to soften the truth just because you're Mabel's friend, so—if you're not okay with that, you should just go home now."

He turned to glance at her, his trajectory curving to the side as he did; and suddenly she felt like a very small fish being circled by a hungry stingray. "Wow! You and Mabel both had to warn me! At this point, I'll be disappointed if you're polite." Goldie laughed. "Don't worry, I wasn't expecting a barbershop." He used his umbrella to gesture around at the barn, "A barbershop would smell less like farm animals." He flipped up his eyepatch (he had a whole second eye under there?) so he could shoot Pacifica a sly sideways glance. "Maybe personality can make up for looks. Right?"

Pacifica's face flushed red. Personality can make up for looks was what Pacifica's mom said other moms told their ugly daughters when they entered pageants they had no shot of winning. "Hey, how dare you! Maybe this barn is an ugly salon—but it's a beautiful ranch!" She huffed, "Anyway, I didn't have a choice! I couldn't bring you home in front of my parents. You're better suited to the barn."

She regretted it the moment the words were out of her mouth—that was the kind of thing she was trying not to say to people as often—but Goldie's grin only widened. "Just do what you can with this flesh scarecrow I'm wearing, Alpaca. I know what beauty standards around here are like, I know what I look like, and I'm more apathetic about this body than you could possibly imagine. You won't hurt my feelings!" He flipped his eyepatch back down and glanced away from her, eye roving around the barn ceiling like a searchlight trying to find a stray bat. "Nobody goes to a coach because they're expecting to be told 'you're beautiful just the way you are'!"

A coach—like a pageant coach? He was making an awful lot of allusions to the pageant world. Just to make fun of her, or...? "You're lucky I'm not a coach. You couldn't afford my rates."

Goldie laughed. "You'd overcharge!" And then he ignored her, turning his attention to her one full-time employee. "Hey, Spiderwebs! So this is where you ended up! Workin' hard or hardly workin'?"

Spiderwebs looked up from the aplaca he was tending to to frown at Goldie. "Do I know you?"

"Know me? You picked a fight with me once!"

"Oh. Who won?"

"By the time I was finished with you, you were stone-cold unconscious!"

"That's probably why I don't remember it."

While Goldie was distracted talking to Spiderwebs, Pacifica knelt by Mabel—who was crouched to wrap her arms around Giorgio's neck and nuzzle him—and muttered, "Your friend's a major creep."

"What did he do," Mabel asked.

Pacifica thought. What did he do? Say he wouldn't be offended by brutal honesty? Tell her her barn smelled like a barn? "Nothing, it's just—the way he did it."

"Yeah," Mabel sighed. "We're working on his people skills." At least she didn't think Pacifica was crazy.

"Hey, does Goldie have any, like... beauty industry experience, that you know of?"

"His mom was a model," Mabel said. "And he did some stuff with beauty pageants?"

"Yeah? What kind of stuff?"

"Ummm..." Mabel grimaced uncertainly. "Tech... stuff...?" Okay, she clearly didn't have a clue. But that was what she'd wanted to know: yes, he was familiar with the pageant scene. She readjusted her expectations for the afternoon for the second time in as many minutes.

Apparently finished with Spiderwebs, Goldie called, "Anyway, I'm not trying to win ay supreme crowns!" Make that familiar with the pageant scene and wanted to make sure Pacifica knew that. "Just seduce some government agent who already thinks this is hot. You're lucky, we have an easy target!"

Mabel said, "This guy!" She unwrapped one arm from around Giorgio's neck to hold her phone out.

Pacifica took it. It was displaying a distinguished-looking middle-aged gentleman with a no-nonsense frown in a classy black suit. Her eyebrows went up. Ooh. The suit was kind of cheap, but it was well-tailored, which made a world of difference. Looked like he took care of himself, too. Definitely worked out. Too bad about the hair, but hey, Pacifica happened to know a great product that could help with that.

She put a hand on Mabel's arm. "I will help Goldie win his heart."

####

Bill hardly glanced around as Pacifica led them into her office; he was familiar with the space. By daylight, it looked less "rustic" and more "cutesy overpriced modern farmhouse." 

"I've got everything set up in my office," Pacifica said, coming in with Mabel behind her. There was indeed a wide variety of makeup supplies spread out on her desk. "But the makeup has to wait, we've got to start with your hair."

Bill fought back a cringe. "Don't want to save the best for last?"

"Always do your hair first," Pacifica said firmly. She ducked through a door into a bathroom connected to her office. "That's your first fashion lesson. You can't wash your hair with a face full of makeup. And trying to use a blow dryer or hair iron around your makeup makes you look like a melting wax figure."

"I've seen those in person," Mabel said. "Pacifica's right, that's not a cute look. Especially when the eyeballs start rolling out! Apparently, wax figures' eyeballs are made out of glass?"

Bill made a beeline for the corner where he knew Pacifica kept a folding chair and asked, "Hey, what happened to all those eyes, anyway?" Mabel always needed new arts and crafts supplies, and he bet those would be great for jewelry.

"We stuck them in a big jar." Mabel was lurking in the bathroom door, watching Pacifica. "They're still cursed, though. They turn to look at you when you walk by."

"Even better."

"I can see why the Pines family likes you," Pacifica grumbled.

Bill could think of three Pines who would heartily disagree with that claim. "Oh, please! They can only wish they were half as weird as me." He set up the folding chair in the open space in front of Pacifica's desk—then froze. Huh.

Bill knew lots of things. He had trillions of eyes. He was used to walking into rooms and just knowing what was in them.

Except this room hadn't existed when he'd had all his eyes. It had been built after his death. So why did he already know what it looked like? How had he known where to find a folding chair?

He shut his eyes, trying to work through the déjà vu to picture what angle he'd seen the room at before, and where his eye must have been in order for him to see it; and then he looked at the wall beside the desk. There were several flat glass cases against the wall with alpaca wool goods sealed inside—a scarf, a sweater... He stared at his own face in the middle of a tapestry of his zodiac, preserved like a hunting trophy in a case labeled "First Blanket." Huh. It wasn't some local hick's den after all. Just a local rich girl roleplaying at being a hick.

He studied his true face for a long moment—and then cast a resentful look at the desk covered in makeup, in shades of beige and red. What would any of this sludge do for him? He'd be just as ugly at the end of it.

But Bill wasn't getting a makeover to look beautiful. He was getting it to seduce a human. And those were two diametrically opposed goals.

He missed his face so much.

"It's not illegal," Pacifica said.

Bill gave her a baffled look. "What?"

She pointed at the blanket, "It's not illegal to display a picture of the triangle guy as long as it's got that ring of symbols around it. It, like, repels him or something."

"Oh, does it," Bill said dryly. "It takes the evil eye to avert the evil eye, huh? Hey, maybe I should get one of these! Whaddaya think, Mabel?"

"I already told you I'm not making another!"

"But how am I gonna repel the triangle guy?" he asked, grinning impishly. "What if I'm in danger! The triangle guy could get me! Wouldn't that be terrible?"

"Knock it off! You already stole Soos's."

He expected Pacifica to come back from the bathroom with a brush or something; instead, she held up a spray bottle and said, "Okay, come in—and bring the chair." Bill's heart sank. "We're gonna have to rinse your hair in my sink, sorry."

Bill suppressed a sigh. "It's not the worst thing I've ever done to this hair!" He picked up the chair to carry into the next room.

"All I can do for now is rinse your hair. I don't have any shampoo for your hair texture because I did not think the situation was going to be this dire. No offense," Pacifica said. "You'll have to shampoo at home. You got the hair product samples I sent to the Mystery Shack, right? Were you able to order the full products? I don't know what your budget looks like."

"Don't worry about it, I still have the leftovers from the samples."

He watched in glee as Pacifica died a little on the inside. "Th— Those were one use sample sizes. It's been a month, how do you still have leftovers."

In truth, Pacifica severely overestimated the amount of hair product needed to keep hair clean; but on the other hand Bill was deliberately showering as little as he thought he could get away with and making up the difference in the downstairs half bath sink, so he didn't think smugly flaunting that he technically knew more about minimum human hygiene requirements than she did would make him look as cool and knowledgable as he wanted it to. "Don't worry about it!"

Bill cast one last longing look toward his true face; and then he followed the humans into the restroom to let them reorganize his stupid human hair.

####

"This is just a temporary measure," Pacifica warned as she dunked a few more of Goldie's curls in the sink. "You have got to take a real shower before your date. You literally smell like fish."

"What kind of fish?" Goldie immediately asked. "Is it salmon? If it's salmon I can work with that."

Sitting on the closed toilet lid, Mabel let out a long-suffering sigh; and Pacifica got the horrifying impression that this was an ongoing conversation.

"It... I don't... know what kind of fish."

Mabel said, "It's probably just the trout guts from yesterday." What the heck was life like in poor people's homes?

In Pacifica's opinion, Goldie's hair was both his biggest asset and his worst disaster area. It was that beautiful, natural, curly gold, like something out of a fairy tale; but it was nightmarishly tangled and there was literal sand in it, and he'd clearly used conditioner at some point in the last few days but he hadn't fully washed it out and it just made more sand stick.

Goldie was sitting in the folding chair with one arm rested on the lip of the sink and his cheek resting on his arm. Pacifica had to alternate between soaking his hair under the faucet and trying to gently untangle it, inch by inch, with a comb. To his credit, he patiently endured it without making a word of complaint, even though both the positioning and the manhandling had to be uncomfortable. 

But he'd turned his face away from Pacifica and Mabel as much as he could from his awkward position; and whenever Pacifica moved to an angle that let her glimpse a bit of his face, his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was pressed thin in a grimace. The hand resting on the sink's lip had clenched into a fist, and his other hand was digging its (badly painted) fingernails into his thigh through his bedsheet skirt.

Hesitantly, she asked, "Are you comfortable?"

"I'll give it three out of five stars," Goldie said, "but if you want a lower score, I can try to find a worse angle for my neck!" He kept as much tension out of his voice as he could; but now that Pacifica had noticed it, she could tell his voice was a bit flattened.

"Never mind," she said. "No offense, but—when's the last time you combed this?" She'd been saying no offense a lot.

Mabel asked, "Have you done it since I brushed your hair at the sleepover?" He had Mabel doing his hair?

Goldie made a noncommittal noise. "I've washed it since then." 

"That's not the same," Mabel said.

"You've washed it?" Pacifica asked skeptically. "Because you look like you've been sleeping in mud." She'd found a few flecks deep in his thick curls.

"Okay, in my defense," Goldie said, "it was just garden-variety heavy metal-enriched local dirt when I went to sleep. It only turned into mud while I was unconscious."

Pacifica stopped combing and leaned over to stare at Goldie, speechless.

With an air of affronted dignity, he said, "It wasn't my idea. I wanted to be indoors."

"Goldie's been having a really bad week," Mabel said.

"I've been having a really bad month," Goldie said.

Mabel asked, "Haven't you had a shower since you got home, though?"

There was a pause. Goldie muttered, "Yeah, but—it's hard to get through all that hair." (The worst part was, Pacifica thought he was telling the truth. The fact that she'd found mud so deep meant he must have washed the majority off the outer layers of his hair.) "I—I've been—tired, okay?"

He had that air of impatient irritation that suggested he was embarrassed, but trying to hide it because he was embarrassed of being embarrassed. Strange from Mr. Apathetic About His Body to be self-conscious. Why? Did he not know how to take care of his hair? (Maybe if he'd properly used the samples she'd sent him...)

But Pacifica thought back to Mabel showing her a lock of his hair at the beginning of summer—and the liquified roots, melted off. That wasn't an accident. Whatever depilatory cream he'd used had to sit there on the roots, it wasn't like he'd just grabbed the wrong product by accident. There was something more than ignorance going on here. Self-sabotage? But if it was intentional, why would he be embarrassed?

She could call him out, interrogate him for it—hey, she was supposed to be his style consultant, she needed to know what was going on—but if he was already getting defensive, he'd just clam up if he thought he was really under attack. Her mom got the same way when she was getting cagey about something and Pacifica was trying to figure out why. So she switched her focus. "Mabel—did you say you brushed his hair?"

"Yeah?"

"You meant 'combed his hair,' right?"

"No, I brushed it," Mabel said.

Pacifica stared at her. "Why."

Mabel stared back. "Because... combs are for short guy hair and for parting your hair? And Goldie doesn't have a part?"

Pacifica looked down at the big ball of frizzy curls that made up the bottom half of Mabel's hair and suddenly understood so much. "Oh, hon." What were her parents like. What did their hair look like. "You're supposed to comb natural curls. And only when they're wet, if you can help it."

"What. Why."

"It keeps the curls together," Goldie said, "instead of separating them all into separate strands."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Wait, that's the secret?! I thought that's what expensive shampoos are for!"

"The expensive shampoos make it worse," he cheerfully informed her. He'd brushed Pacifica off and sat up, chin in hand and hair dripping over his shoulders, so he could talk to Mabel. "It strips off the grease your pores naturally excrete to lube up your hair and replaces it with manmade grease! Which is why your hair dries out when you stop using the fancy shampoo. It's a big scam!"

Mabel stared at him in shock; then asked, hesitantly, "My strawberry shampoo?"

"A dirty traitor," Goldie said. "It's one of those toxic friends that manipulates you into depending on them and then tells you you're nothing without their help! There's half a dozen chemicals you wanna avoid in shampoo—I don't remember all their names but I can draw their chemical structures, Sixer can translate 'em into English for you."

"What else am I doing wrong?"

"You shampoo your hair too often," Goldie said. "And blow dry it. Which is fine if you want to keep that dry frizz! But somehow I don't think you do!"

Okay—so he clearly did understand curly hair care. (Or at least, he understood it as much as Pacifica, whose knowledge came entirely from reading magazine articles that technically weren't aimed at her.) Then why didn't he do it?

Mabel dragged her hands down her face. "So all this time, I've been messing up your hair too? Goldiiie, why didn't you say anything!"

"I didn't really care!"

Pacifica said, "Okay no, I am not standing for this. Goldie, out. Mabel, sink. It's some kind of crime for me to know more about curly hair than you do. I'm showing you how to do this the right way."

Goldie sighed in relief and escaped as Pacifica subjected Mabel's hair to the faucet and comb.

####

(Here's this week's What Was Edited Due To TBOB summary: the pageant scene itself was already planned, but obviously, all the details—it's the day he was born, the mayor's there handing out knives and declaring it a holiday—came from the info we get on Bill's history via TBOB. Finding a way to make the knives make sense was fun. Nothing major in the rest of the chapter was changed.

Hope you enjoyed! Next week is more Pacifica!)

[syntheticavenger]

Nothing to see here, move along.

Let Him Loose - Two

A continuation of a little project I started here.

Dark! Ari Levinson x Female Reader / Dennis Baker x Female Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, world building, possibly a little murder right out of the gate?

Summary | After your boyfriend’s promotion, he means to make amends with his estranged parents, including his older brother. As family wounds come to light, so do the secrets that have been buried for decades.

Sweat dots her brow, the older woman scrubbing at a stubborn stain on her favorite skillet, ignoring her husband who opens the fridge to grab a beer, wordless before the crack of the top of the bottle gets her attention. It’s been a week of nonstop cleaning, painting and redecorating, the countdown on the calendar circled in blue pen.

”Did you take out the trash like I asked?” She questions, the man giving a slight sound of what appears to be a yes. “Elvin, I asked you a question.”

”I said yes, woman,” he speaks up, the woman stopping her scrubbing at the tone of his voice. “Why on earth are you so worried about making the place look good? It’s Dennis. The boy knows home.”

”It ain’t just about him knowing about home, he’s bringing her,” she reminds him, Elvin turning around at her mention of you.

”Is he?” Elvin emphasizes, seeing his wife’s head nod emphatically. With that, he snorts, thinking of his youngest son in disbelief at the news. “Thought you were pullin’ my chain. A girl. That changes everything, don’t it?”

She scrubs away at the stain, looking at her handiwork for a moment before slipping it into the hot, soapy water, leaning over the sink with a heavy sigh.

”Can’t have this place lookin’ like a pigsty. She’s a city girl, Elvin. Lord knows she’s gonna turn up her nose at everything we have and then some so the least I can do is make sure the house looks tidy.”

Elvin shakes his head in disgust at her worrying.

”Bernadette, since when do you care what a city girl thinks about our home?”

“I don’t. But I can keep up the appearance in the meantime.”

Elvin nods at her response, realizing that his wife is much smarter than he ever gives her credit for. Scratching behind his neck, he looks on at the pristine kitchen, redone with fancy wallpaper and some spackle and paint to cover the cracks. It does look good, he has to admit to himself, Bernadette finishing up the last of the dishes.

“Does Ari know?”

She pauses for a moment, looking over her shoulder as she gives him a wink.

”He will.”

-

The clack of billiard balls are overshadowed by the raucous music, heavy conversation and servers announcing the next round of drinks while they visit their tables. Another local watering hole, nothing special about it except for the cheap beer and the waitresses who try for extra tips by showing all the skin they can get away with. One in particular hangs around, her shorts slung over on her hips when she comes by again, placing another beer in front of him.

”Never seen you before,” she hints, batting her eyelash extensions at him. “I’m Donna.”

“First time,” he answers, reaching for the beer. “Ari.”

”Ari,” she repeats, nodding her head. “I like it.”

He simply nods, giving her nothing to work with as she leans over the table, her cleavage on full display.

”What do you say you and I get a little more acquainted? I’m off in thirty minutes.”

Ari’s blue eyes lock with hers as she smiles. He leans in closer, getting a waft of her cheap body spray. It’s overpowering but it doesn’t deter him, not in the slightest.

”That could be arranged,” he begins, his curled index finger gliding down her heavily blushed cheek. “Got a little fetish though, if you don’t mind indulging me..”

She leans in closer, her teeth dragging excitedly on her thin lower lip.

”Tell me.”

”Well… I like a little chase. Gets the heart rate up.”

With a loud laugh, she leans up with a snap, tucking the tray under her arm.

”Say less. Meet you out back. I even got my running shoes on.”

Ari settles back in his seat, his stomach growling. It’s been hours since he ate. The appetizer that sits in front of him is untouched, the cheese dip congealing into something that looks like mush.

Glancing over his text messages, he smirks at the message he’s left his younger brother, left on read when Ari had mentioned he had wanted to meet her. Poor Dennis, trying to keep her a secret, only to fail and succumb to the pressure of wanting to brag about finally having a girlfriend after being teased and bullied for so long. Not that he could fault him - he would have gloated too if he’d had decades of a dry spell.

After a little business, he downs his beer, stomach still growling as he feels the aching gnaw in the pit of his gut. It’ll subside eventually. It always does one he’s sated.

The moon hides behind the clouds and for a moment, Ari takes it in, looking at his brand new watch to note the time before he takes it off and slips it into his jean pocket.

Whistling to himself, he tosses a few dollar bills on the table, cracking his neck from side to side before heading out the exit and to the back of the bar like Donna had requested.

-

Bernadette sits out on the porch, wiping her brow before fanning herself with the ornate handmade handheld fan that Ari bought her during his business trip to Guangzhou. The ice in her iced tea is melting rapidly, floating on the surface like tiny glaciers. She’s finally alone with her thoughts, Elvin gone to bed to get up early to tend to the farm. Nights like these keep her awake, thinking of her boys who used to play on the front lawn until all hours of the night until she carried them back to their beds.

It’s been years since she’s had her sons in the house, thunder rumbling overhead as she sips her drink, thinking to the future. Annabelle Tatum thought she was the only one with something to talk about, her only daughter finally getting married. The dour faced girl with pock marked skin after several bouts of acne had been extremely shy but had grown into her looks, something that Bernadette had prayed to God to forgive her for once saying out loud when the girl had come back from college.

Like most, the ones who came back never left again, just as Annabelle’s daughter. Two kids in tow now, another on the way, Annabelle gushing at the eventual new arrival every chance she got.

It isn’t like Bernadette had a rebuttal. Everyone knew she had one son that grew up to be something. Ari was a star baseball player, a swagger in his gait and a smile that lit up a room. She’d raised him well, happy to see him stick to his roots and defy the agents who came with blank checks and big dreams to make him a star. An enlistment and three tours later, the once gawky teenager with long hair and a shuffle in his step had emerged to be a mountain of a man with that same husky drawl and even longer hair, albeit much richer than his parents had ever thought he’d be.

Then there was Dennis.

Secretly, he’d always been her favorite, as sinful as that could be to have a mother love one son over another by a small margin. How could he not be with his once clear framed glasses, bruises marked on his elbows and knees from the amount of times he would get knocked down. For as long as she could remember, she always wanted her little Dennis to win, even if Elvin didn’t think he would. There was grit in his spirit, even when he’d come home, teary eyed and unwilling to talk about the fights he had lost, he’d get back up and do it all over again.

But there was a need for him to put distance between what he always knew and the great unknown. She never approved - still doesn’t now, even after all these years. Once he was given a scholarship, including the others that he had secretly applied to, there was no looking back. No amount of convincing that staying here would be safer for his psyche worked.

Bernadette swallows hard at the lump that forms in her throat when she thinks about how long he’s been gone. Christmases still aren’t the same, even when Ari comes with his fully loaded truck packed to the gills with the newest household gadgets for her to try and new furniture for them, the loss of knowing her youngest wants nothing to do with their family traditions.

While she can understand to a point, Elvin in his older age has grown tired of pretending that he can live with Dennis’ decision. As the head of the household, Elvin looks to Ari to carry on the family name, to take care of her and the farm when he eventually passes away. It’s a way of life, especially with their kind, something that she knows he’s been talking about more than usual. She isn’t ready to discuss it.

She isn’t sure if she’s ever ready to have him bring up the topic again.

But as it’s written, the law handed down a century and then some ago, there’s a ceremonial meaning to Dennis coming home. She hopes it’s because of the call, intertwined in his DNA that makes him want to return home.

Placing her drink down, she closes her eyes, the fan in her hand moving rapidly.

Yes, she thinks.

He knows where home is.

-

Ari’s boots crunch on the gravel, the first strings of dawn beginning to form, his hand plunging into his pant pocket and pulling out his watch. He looks back at the discarded clothes and smiles, reaching for his keys in his back pocket.

Dennis finally replied to his text, a simple acknowledgment with a thumbs up emoji. Never a man of words, this is all the conversation Ari will get before they meet in person, something he knows Dennis won’t want to do. Ari doesn’t mind pulling rank, especially on his younger brother.

Shrugging on his flannel and buttoning it down, the chill of the air makes everything feel still, as if any slight noise will shatter this serene moment. Opening the door to his truck, he examines his teeth in the rear view, picking out a piece of bone before flicking it out of his window.

With a few simple presses of buttons, all the windows lower, rock music playing loudly as he reverses, gravel spraying upward before he throws it into drive, accelerating and leaving the mountains behind.

He’s not hungry anymore but tiredness hovers over his eyes.

There’s a small diner on the way to his parents’ house, where the coffee is fresh and people know to keep clear of him. A healthy fear, one that he uses to his advantage when the time calls for it. No doubt in a few hours, they’ll pretend that they didn’t see him, deny that he was there.

He snaps his fingers to the beat of the music, hitting his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the drums.

He’ll be home before dinner.

Just in time to size up Dennis’ new girl.

-

Elvin watches the truck pull up in the driveway, the music still thunderous before it abruptly shuts off, Ari flinging the door open. In the back of the truck are more gifts, Elvin finding himself shaking his head with the idea of where he will put the things he’d bought.

”Where’s Ma?” Ari questions, Elvin’s head tilting toward the house. 

”Shower. Gotta get dolled up for the prodigal son and the city girl, ya know,” Elvin quips, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. “What’s in the back?”

“Figured that we can’t have Denny back in the house without a little celebration,” Ari says, adjusting his sunglasses before slamming the door shut. “Brought some meat for Ma to cook up for tonight. Figured we could have a right feast this time.”

[yeonmuse]

𓇢𓆸. 𝕯ECELIS ACA𝕯EMY. —— YJW

BLOODBOUND. ִ. 𓍯𓂃

☪︎ ִFull Chapter log Next Chapter

WARNING | EXPLICIT CONTENT ℭontains the mention of blood & voilence. Mentions of sex & death, Jungwon will be a little mean in this one but the way that each member is written in this does not portray their true selves. Includes ot7, angst/romance/fluff. Includes otr, angst/romance/fluff

𖤓 reader x yang jungwon ── 𝒢enre. angst. fluff, non idol vamp enha. [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary

𝕾ynopsis. — Yang Jungwon has stood by her side from the age of six to the night of her eternal age ceremony. He has spent nearly her entire life reassuring her that her time would come, that she would possess her vampiric abilities soon enough, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Her lack in vampiric traits cause a ripple in their friendship, her father is withholding secrets from her and she slowly begins to lose a sense of self, but maybe with Jungwons help she can find out who she is truly meant to be in this life.

More | please remember that the things written in this series are a work of FICTION,meaning NOTHING you read in this series correlates to neither enha nor their storyline.

© YEONMUSE 2024. do not copy, plagiarize or steal my works. You can join the taglist for this series here

Chapter 10

Her heart had been beating out of her chest, not having seen her father in a mere two weeks since he had sent her off to the school without any explanation whatsoever. She could hear ringing in her ears as she walked aimlessly down the hall and down the staircase only to find her father standing near the fireplace in the reading room. At first she didn’t know what to say, there were so many emotions she felt swirling around within her that she found it difficult to even open her mouth to speak. Anger, confusion, disappointment, but most of all hurt.

Despite how hard her father had always been on her when it came to her abilities or the royalties of her bloodline she had always been his little flower, he had always cherished her. So for him to send her away like that, as if he had been ashamed of her, it had completely thrown her through a loop. She was eager to know why he had done it, why had he sent her away.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke before she could even open her mouth to question why. He seemed to have sensed her presence the moment she entered. She didn’t say a word, frozen in place there was nothing more she could do but listen.

“I know that you’re probably confused, or upset with me right now but I wasn’t sure what more to do since we had tried everything.” He hadn’t spared her one glance since the moment she entered, she assumed that the guilt of having sent away his only daughter had been eating away at him.

“We tried training, we tried the old Romanian methods, rituals, we tried it all and I failed as your father to make sure you gained your ability by your birthday. I figured that being around Jungwon again.. that going to school with other vampires would help you, that you’d learn from them.”

“If you were going to put me around Jungwon again then why keep his keys from me?” He fell silent, he never thought that the day would come that she’d figure that out.

“Why did you not tell me he wrote to me, why did you write back to him telling him not to come over and see me anymore.”

“Because he was only a distraction for you.”

“What?”

“You became too comfortable with him yn, you stopped caring about your abilities the moment he came into the picture. He would take you everywhere, get you everything you needed, you stopped caring about being able to do those things yourself when he came into the picture, you stopped training, stopped researching. All you wanted to do was hang with him.”

“He was my friend!”

“I brought him around to drive you to work for your abilities not to be your friend yn.”

“What?”

“I made his parents bring him around out of hopes that you would see everything he could do with his abilities and yearn for yours more. I thought it would make you hungrier for them.”

“You what..?” Jungwon had been passing nearby when he heard her voice coming from the room nearby, it wasn’t until he heard her yelling that he realized she wasn’t alone in the room and decided to listen in. But that was when he heard her fathers voice and stepped in.

“Jungwon” Jungwon was far to hyper focused to even acknowledge her standing there. His tunnel vision deafening the sound of her voice to his ears. He was far too zoned in on her father.

“Ah Jungwon, it's been a long time.”

“Save it. you used me? You lied to my parents about her needing a friend so that you could use me?”

“I didn’t lie now did I? You were her friend until I no longer needed you to be, until you started to get a little too comfortable with her.” Jungwons jaw clenched at his words. Her father knew all too well that Jungwon once had feelings for her, after all he had read all of the letters jungwon had sent before burning them to make sure they’d not be found by her.

“Jungwon, yn sweetheart, why aren’t you getting ready?” Sunoos' mom found the two standing in the middle of the reading room, both staring at her father whose gaze hadn’t left Jungwons who on the contrary to her father, was completely pissed.

Sunoos moms gaze shifts from the two of them, over to her father and as if realizing the tension between the three she sends them both on their way.

“Jungwon I”

“Not now yn”

Well what's great, she had just gotten Jungwon to open up and start talking to her about what had happened between the two of them and now he has completely shut down again. She watched as he disappeared past the corridor and down the hallway before deciding to make her way back to her guest room. After all of that she still had to attend the event tonight as if everything had been completely fine, as if her father hadn’t been lying to her for years.

The events of the morning lingered on her mind throughout the entire day, even as she bathed, plucked and pampered and the handmaidens helped her into her dress for the upcoming occasion, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming feelings of betrayal and disappointment she felt towards her father. Of course she had known that he loved her and he had done it thinking it would help her, but that didn’t make it hurt her any less.

Taking a deep breath as she gazed at herself in the mirror it had then dawned on her that this itself wasn’t something normal, even her father couldn’t see his own reflection so how could she. Nothing about her was normal compared to the others at the school, she was a complete anomaly. They drank blood, she drank blood, ate meat, and human food. They had gained their abilities upon birth, she still hadn’t. Vampires didn’t have a heartbeat, but she had. All things she constantly thought about since the moment her father made her realize that she herself was different.

A knock at the door interrupts her thoughts and she enters one of the handmaidens.

“Ms. Celeste the guests have arrived, Ms.Kim is asking that everyone come down now.”

“Alright thank you narae.” As narae exits the room closing the door behind her she lets out a sigh, taking one last look at herself before stepping out of her room. She had been walking aimlessly throughout the halls, her thoughts still swarming with the events from earlier that day as well as her talk with Jungwon.

“You look like your thoughts are eating away at you.” She hears, forcing her to snap her head up and meet the gaze of the voice's owner.

“You always seem to catch me in these moments.” She responds, eyes now glued to nicholas, dressed up once again in his formal attire, hair slicked back, with glasses sat upon his face.

“Mm you seem to have these moments often.” He says in response, his gaze fully glued to her, the two now standing there just staring at anywhere for so long that she had to look away. While she found this moment flustering, Nicholas on the other hand found it amusing. For some reason anytime she had gotten around him she’d always seemed flustered or lost in her thoughts and he found it adoring. He didn’t understand why he was sent to protect someone that his sender knew absolutely nothing about but it was now that he realized how special she was. There was something about her that made her hard to resist, he just wanted to be closer, even knowing that Yang Jungwon had his eyes on her.

“Nicholas, you have abilities right?”

“Hm? You’re asking this so suddenly?” He chuckles as he turns around, the two of them walking side by side.

“I’ve just never really seen you use them? Other than the fact that you’re super fast. I don’t ever see you use any other abilities.”

“Some things are better left a mystery.”

“Yeah I'm kind of tired of everything in my life being left a mystery.”

“Then maybe it’s time to start taking initiative and stop going to your father for answers when he’ll never give them to you.”

“Wait how do you know-”

“Yn!” Aleera and Fawna sauntered over to you as you had finally arrived in the ballroom, a few guest gazing showed up making the place a bit more lively than it had been previously. Nicholas took that oñportunity to disappear amongst the crowd, leaving you somewhat disappointed, because everytime it seemed like the two of you had been getting closer he’d gone away.

“Where have you been all day? We haven’t seen you since I came to tell you your father was here.”

“Sorry, after that meeting with him I was just exhausted and then I had to spend the entire day getting pampered for the event.”

Jungwons eyes had been on her from the moment she walked in. Hits eyes staining over her taking in her visuals from head to toe, she looked beautiful, she was always beautiful. Though her beauty alone wasn’t enough to distract her from the fact that she once again had entered a room with Nicholas at her side.

Jungwon wasn’t the only one to notice though, Sunghoon had also taken note of the fact that Nicholas was starting to hang around the girl more and more and it annoyed him. He’d never be able to get close to her if Nicholas had kept getting in the way, he’d never get to confirm whether or not she was like him.

Eventually the place had become flooded with guests and as lovely as the party had been, yns thoughts had been completely elsewhere, it was some feeling that she simply couldn’t shake. So slipping through the endless sea of guests she stepped out into the hallway and aimlessly walked until she found herself standing in the garden. It reminded her of the day she had just met Jungwon, when he’d been eager to show off his abilities to her. She found herself smiling at the memory though as quickly as the smile had graced her face it fell.

Suddenly the hairs in the back of her neck stood at attention and she felt goosebumps decorated her skin. Her senses had gone from a one to a ten in mere seconds. The crunch of leaves could be heard behind her and her eyes scanned the garden until they landed upon an unfamiliar woman standing amongst the shrubs near the fountain. Though everything was screaming in her that this wasn’t safe, something about this woman didn’t seem threatening. Instead she felt some sort of alluring pull.

Meanwhile inside, everyone felt a disturbance in the area. There was a slight shift in atmosphere and it was a feeling that the parents had known all too well, but hadn’t sensed in such a long time. Her fathers eyes quickly scanned the place in search for his daughter only to realize that she hadn’t been in the room. Internal panic set in as he looked to the other parents warning them that something was coming if not already here. While the other parents went out to search for you, he himself left as discreetly as possible to search for you without alerting everyone else at the event.

“Um..are you lost?”

“She’s where she’d like to be, it’s easier to meet here.”

“Nicholas..?” Her gaze shifted from Nicholas to the woman behind him, her confusion now heightening further as it now seemed that this was someone Nicholas had been familiar with.

“You wanted to know the truth, right? About you, your family, your abilities?”

“Nicholas what are you.. what’s going on who is she?”

“Yn.”

“Jungwon?” Nicholas rolls his eyes, of course he’d show up at a time like this, at a time where none of this had anything to do with him.

“Of course you’d show up now.”

“I don’t think you have any place to talk, considering you conveniently showed up to Decelis again the moment she started attending.” Jungwons jaw clenches, he and Nicholas just stood staring at one another, the tension so high she thought they’d fight again.

“Can someone please just tell me what the hell is going on?”

The silence between the two men were broken as her father came running outside, freezing dead in his tracks as his eyes landed on the woman hidden amongst the shrubs.

“Father?” It was as if he had been in some sort of trance, your words falling deaf to his ears as he stepped closer and closer, his feet moving at their own accord.

“Elise..”

“Okay what the fuck is going on, Nicholas who is she?” You looked to Nicholas for answers, not getting completely frustrated that so much was being kept from you and no one was giving you the answers that you needed.

“She’s your mother.” He responds, finally breaking his gaze away from Jungwon to look at you, there was not one single hint of insincerity in his eyes. Which meant as much as you wanted this to be some sort of sick joke, it was evident he had been telling the truth

🔖 @bubblytaetae @pkjay @heesallure @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @sol3chu @st4rryst4r @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @ivyvioletcarson @academiq @claumbeju @jwonistic @riribelle @sugarikiz

[arcane-ish]

Revisiting the season 1 "is Silco a bad parent" discourse

It seems that sometimes people come across my season 1 metas and liking them and it's pretty fun for me to "re-find" some of my old stuff that way.

I like to think I still stand by a lot of if even if a lot of theories about how things get disproven.

Anyway, I think it's very interesting in retrospect how central and heated the "Is Silco a bad father" discourse was in season 1. (It was very much the "is Caitlyn a war criminal" of its day)

One aspect that I think made it differently is that "being a war criminal" is usually a relatively distant concept for most people.

While if you listened deeper you could sense a lot of personal stories and very different takes on what makes a good or bad parent.

Looking back, it does feel like maybe a lot of it was the Vi&Cait side of the fandom versus the Silco&Jinx side of the fandom with a lot of people in the middle weighing in, because it is an interesting question and again ones relationship to a parent being something where everybody can bring something to he table.

In the end season 1 is very structured around Vi. She's by the character by far with the most screentime. And season 1 is pretty much about her quest to retrieve her sister.

Vi has a certain, harsh way of perceiving Silco and Silco and Jinx. And I wonder if at least some of the discourse was a lot about validating Vi and validating Vi's quest. Because if Silco is an awesome parent and Jinx is happy, then Vi's quest is basically useless, right?

For the record, I don't think Vi fans were overall about proving that Silco is evil and Vi has to smite him. Even in season 1 I think there was generally a lot of fandom discourse support for the idea that Vi has to accept that her sister is changed and that she can't just blindly cling to the past. But there's still investment in the idea that she is at least partially right.

On the opposite. To me it does feel like on the Silco&Jinx side (even though people will always say they understand that their charas do bad things) it did feel like there were genuinely people who wanted an edgy "Silco and Jinx never did anything and are perfect and everybody else drools" take by the show. Again, just like with the Vi side, not all. Plenty of Silco fans who also get that he was a flawed father even if he was genuine. Just saying the "Silco and Jinx should burn the world down without resistance as an awesome powercouple and/or father&daughter duo" also existed and who were longing for a portrayal where everybody who opposed Silco turns out to be more evil than him or comes around and sings his praises to validate Silco.

Which brings me to:

I think a big reason why I was less disappointed with season 2 than some others is because I always saw myself squarely in the middle of this discourse.

For me that looked like that: For a lot of the accusations typically levelled against Silco I was usually a lot more on the "Silco side" of things than on the "Vi side".

That a lot of the things that are happening are dark, but dark that make sense for the setting. ie having Jinx be violent, encouraging her to fight, not seeking help for her mental illness, that always seemed like a fairly natural part of the setting to me. And on the whole manipulating front, seeing it more as "Silco projects his own trauma/fear/paranoia, his messed up feelings about Vander onto Vi" rather than he is intentionally manipulating (though I do think there was an element of "Silco is scared of Jinx leaving him and wants to tie her to him at all costs" rather than just a clean mangnanimous "Silco thinks Vi is dangerous and wants to protect Jinx from harm")

But at the same time: I also had genuine bugbears with his parenting.

When I look at my old post one thing that I pointed out was that it feels off to me that Jinx doesn't have peers her age. She interacts mostly with Sevika and Silco. The closes to her age is probably Thieram and he's scared of her. Back then I reserved judgement. Because we don't know for sure how Jinx felt about it. Maybe since she killed her brothers she never wanted to be around friends anymore out of fear of killing them. Though I still think that as a parent Silco should have pushed back on that. Especially since imo the Enemy music video suggests that in the past Powder did like playing with other children, at the very least Ekko. So to me season 2 was extremely validating when we see that as soon as Silco is gone from her influence the first thing Jinx does is attach herself to a young girl and be really playful and kid like with her. And season 2 suggests that having Ekko forgive her did mean something to her. (and depending on whether you consider it canon or not, Jinx writing "home" on top of the firelight base when she has been there like once is just gutting)

There's also the fact "Silco is just projecting his trauma rather than manipulating" to me is a seriously deal. Even if that means that he isn't manipulating "he can't see beyond his trauma enough to be a good parent" is still a serious parenting issue. (for the record: Vander has very similar problems in his parentage) If you had a parent who is a narcissicst or a drug addict or bipolar and that did have an affect on the parenting style, you would still file that under having a bad/less than ideal childhood even if that parent tried.

And the core effect of this trauma/paranoia is that Silco does not respect what Vi means to Jinx and is not really engaging with Jinx about it. And no, he did not know Vi was alive, but he did lie about Vi just being there for the crystal (when from his conversation with Vi in the Shimmer addict scene he KNEW that Vi was there about Jinx). Not to mention he immediately moves to try to get rid of Vi and attacks her rather than even just subtly try to figure out how Jinx feels about it. Again in a perfect parent world, even if he irrationally feels that Vi will hurt Jinx, the good parent thing would have been to talk to Jinx, express his fears and let Jinx choose how she wants to handle the situation. Support her through it, catch her if Vi really does end up hurting her.

But then I generally often feel like I have a very different take on Jinx and Silco's relationship. Like… if you see Silco and Jinx as a pair, a duo… you can see in season 1 that Jinx isn't fully happy with him? Like the underlying message of season 1 is that even though she was with Silco and she cared for him, she was dreaming of being with Vi the entire time. She wanted to abandon Silco and run away with Vi. She kept, remembered and activated the flare when she realizes that Vi is alive/around. She yearned for Vi while she was gone, was always doubtful of Silco's world, completely thought Silco was capable of lying to her. She cares about him, but she does not fully believe the things he's telling her, she clearly thinks of him as somebody to take with a grain of salt, yes even before the Shimmer maker he doubt him even more.

For the record, I don't buy the Silcofan take Jinx and Silco were 100% happy and he a completely reasonable parent till all the stressors of season 1 Act 2 happened. IMO I buy what Jinx says to Vi in the dinner scene in 1x09, the deep tiredness and frustration. And I don't think that Jinx would assume so easily that he would lie even pre Shimmer if he hadn't given her the vibe before. And we see her pushing back and rebelling a little bit not just against his restriction but against the lies he tells himself before all that.

(it probably helps that my fandom of Silco was always more on the "he's this beautiful, chaotic, tragic, compelling, ingenious mess" rather than "he's so cool and badass". Like a lot harder on the "Silco makes a freaked out face during the rat experiments" than just "Silco does sexy sauntering")

Again, if you "ship" Silco and Jinx as a narrative pair, even if just a platonic one, maybe you were rooting for the story to validate Silco fully. Yes, Jinx strayed and tried to "cheat" on Silco with Vi, wanted to leave him, wanted to run off with Vi, but he was right all along, Vi didn't care for her and choose the enforcer over Jinx. And the happy end will be Jinx understands Silco's love for her and knew he as right all along and be gung go, either wanting to kill herself because she loved him so much or dedicate her life to continuing his life's work.

And maybe the Vi side thought that with Silco being dead it would be a "ding dong the witch is dead", yes Jinx is now even further in her darkness but maybe season 2 can be the search to retrieve her and everybody can at least see what horror he has wrought and how he destroyed Jinx's life if it turns out she cannot be saved.

The thing about season 2 is that if refuses to validate either the "Vi side" or the "Silco side"

And my theory that this really frustrated both sides, especially if they fought for fervently post season 1 about whose perspective is right.

While for me, it felt like a natural continuation of what I already saw in season 1. Jinx genuinely cares for Silco, but she wasn't fully happy with him, their relationship was genuine, but also layered and complex.

She grieves for him, but the moment he isn't there she acts very differently. She does tons of things that weren't and maybe couldn't easily have been part of her life when he was still around. Her position towards his goals, towards the fight, towards Zaun,towards violence is mixed. She connects with Isha, with Vi, with Ekko. She doesn't denounce Vi or Vander to praise Silco.

For the frustration of the "Vi side", she never denounces Silco either. And even worse, like, here you could say, okay, maybe Jinx is just strong enough to resist Silco's influence, especially now that he's gone, but he was still bad for her, but the show imo by adding Silco to the AU does take a stand against that Silco was just a bad father and a malignent influence. If Silco was just full on bad, why would he still be part of Jinx's life in the other AU, where it is hinted that Silco is very much part of many things being better in that AU. To me that alone is a strong proof that they don't see Silco as just a bad thing that has to be fought. Heck that episode textually has Ekko saying outright that maybe he wasted his time fighting/hating Silco and Jinx as part of a general message about forgiveness and embracing people.

And about all people being messy and flawed and you should still embrace them.

And from a Jinx fan point of view? That's great actually

Season 1 is being spent with Silco and Vi metaphorically fighting over Jinx. From their point of view, it would be most desirable if she chose one and decried the other.

But from a Jinx point of view? It's actually great that she doesn't have to choose. Because Jinx is a cool and awesome character who can have deep and layered and complex and loving relationships with Silco and with Vi and with Vander (and gain new ones with Isha and Jinx). She doesn't have to give one up to properly love the other. She can love all these people in her own way and at the same time, there can be complexity and flaws in all those relationships too.

Because again, Jinx is a complex character with many sides to her and many relationships to her.

And just like the show in the end refuses to make a hard choice between Powder versus Jinx, it also refuses to choose between these relationships. Doesn't see the need to push any of them to the dirt, just lets her keep and at the same time lose all of them.

I think that ultimately, why, even though I see many flaws on season 2, I can still find something to love about it. Because to me Jinx is the throughline, the emotional core as the journey of a young woman searching her place, figuring herself out, choosing her path.

(please note that I'm a staunch believer in the "Jinx Lives" theory and that clouds every and all reads on season 2 I have)

In the end, imo the juxtaposition of Silco and Vi was a pretty cool move of season 1. Most fandoms fight primarily about romantic shipping, who should date whom, who is whose OTP.

Structurally, in season 1 Vi is the main character and even though she might have flaws (maybe too brash, too narrow minded, too emotional), she comes across as the more traditional heroic character.

At the same time, she is on a quest that is impossible. She wants to retrieve a sister who doesn't exist anymore. She wants things to not change, but that can't be avoided. She has a quest given to her by her dead father figure, but maybe that quest isn't just impossible, maybe it isn't what she should be doing in the first place?

And the fact that Vi is structurally the hero but maybe she's also kind of wrong I think opened up this narrative space of "okay, if Vi is not right, that maybe who or what is?"

I get that the show answering that question with "everybody is flawed, those relationships an co-exist" isn't a satisfying answer for everybody who wanted clarity, but I can just reiterate, from my Jinx fannishness point of view, I think it's pretty great.

[sunnyie-eve]

55 | Boyfriend over Brother

Series: Unexpected

Paring: Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: serious allergy reaction, caring Matt, Colby and Dani fight

| MASTERLIST |

For lunch they go to a little restaurant and of course now the others joke about the couple as they eat. The two get to know more about the two together and Chris and Nick thought they were the cutest.

As Matt and Nick went to the restroom Chris gives Dani a smile, "What?" She laughs confused.

"Realizing how blind I was to you two. Now knowing, I can see the change in Matt. He's so in love with you it's adorable. Matt has never been the lovey dovey type and you made him."

"We haven't even acted like that yet in front of y'all." She was confused how he was getting that.

"It's all in the eyes, Dani. He basically has heart eyes looking at you and the cheesiest smile." He tells her, "I'm happy he has someone like you."

Dani smiles reaching for his hand, "Thank you. And I'm happy to have boyfriend who has amazing brothers that care for me."

"Oh don't butter me up." He laughs as their desserts arrive.

"Ooh, that looks." She eyes his as he takes a bite.

"You should taste it. It's heaven." He says still chewing it then holds out a piece on his fork to try it so she does.

"Oh my god! That is heaven." She agrees as the other two come back.

"What's heaven?" Matt asks her.

"Chris's dessert." She tells him before going back for another bit.

As she eats hers she starts to get itching and can't breath, "You okay, Dani?" Nick looks at her so Matt looks at her, "You're looking a little red."

"Are you having a reaction?" Matt turns her to face him and sees she was starting to struggle to breathe more, "She ate something with Pineapples." Matt looks in her bag her EpiPen.

"We made sure not order anything with it." Nick says then Chris calls a waiter over.

"Is there Pineapple in this?" He asks the guy.

"You ordered Grandma's Angle Food Cake, right?" He ask so Chris nods his head, "Then yes."

"It didn't say it on the menu!" Chris shouts making other customers look at them

"Guys, I can't find it. We gotta take her to the hospital." Matt jumps up.

"Why the hell not add it on the menu?" Nick shouts now.

"It was the family's secret. The menu says that."

"She can die! That's how serious her allergy is!" Chris shouts as Matt was running out with Dani as she was getting even worse. Matt didn't care about the other two as he drove off leaving them there.

Arriving at the hospital, Matt tells them what was wrong with her and they take her back telling him to wait. While she was getting help, another doctor talks to Matt asking him how did she eat Pineapple if she already knew she was allergic to it.

"On the menu it didn't say pineapple was in the dessert that's why my brother got it. We try to be safe around her. On the menu it just said with a family secret. How is that okay to do?"

"It's not okay by any means. You can sue them for that." The doctor tells him.

"I don't care about right now. I care about my girlfriend. Is she okay?" Matt asks the man.

"It was severe case and as soon as she was taken back they did have to do CPR on her. You got here on time. If you were a minute later she most likely would've died." Matt's eyes widened, "Now incase anything else happens is there family we can contact?"

"Her parents live in another state and she lives with me and my brothers." Matt tells him.

"Who's her number one contact?"

"I am." Matt tells him.

"That means you make the calls for her if she can't." He lets Matt know "By now they are monitoring vital signs, and providing oxygen to her, and administering additional medications manage symptoms and prevent further complications."

"So she will be completely fine, right?" Matt just wanted to know that.

"Yes, she will be okay but we are keeping her for tonight to keep an eye on her." He lets him know.

"Can I see her yet?"

"I'd give her an hour to rest. Remember we did give her CPR. I'll come back to let you know when you can see her. Don't worry too much." The doctor leaves him.

When Nick and Chris finally show up they join Matt in the waiting room and he tells them everything that he was told by the doctor.

"You should call Colby and let him know." Nick tells Matt.

"I know." Matt gets up to go call him and Colby tells him he'll be there as soon as he can.

Honestly it didn't take him long to get there because he was worried about his sister, "How did you let her eat Pineapple?" He rushes towards the three, "Aren't you three, especially you, know that she's allergic!"

"Colby, the menu didn't list it in the ingredients. We know she can't have it." Matt tells him, "We are always careful around her. I barely have anything that's pineapple just to be safe." He adds.

"Matt Sturniolo." A different doctor walks toward him.

"Yes." Matt turns around.

"I'm Dr. McKinley." He introduces himself, "I was coming to tell you that Dani is rested enough for you to go see her now."

"I'll go, she's my sister." Colby tells the doctor.

The doctor looks at his clipboard, "Sorry but only Matt is allowed right now. He's the primary person for her." The doctor tells him then lets Matt know her room number.

"How does the brother not have the right away, Dr?" Colby asks as Matt takes off.

"She's not a minor and her first emergency contact was her boyfriend so that's why he gets the right away." The doctor leaves and Colby looks at the other two who look at each other.

"Did I just hear him right?" Colby asks with his voice getting a little deeper, "You both knew this whole time?"

"We didn't know the whole time." Chris pulls out his phone to text Matt that Colby knows now.

"They told us just before lunch." Nick adds.

When Matt gets to Dani's room he sees her watching TV with oxygen on. Dani looks over at him and gives him a little wave, "Hey, hey."

"You had me scared." He walks over to her.

"You scared? I couldn't breathe." She laughs a bit then coughs, "Still can't really."

"I called Colby. He's with Chris and Nick in the waiting room. He's your brother, after all, so he deserved to know."

"Thank you. I don't want to see him still but I know I have to." She reaches for his hand, "Maybe we tell him on a different day about us." She tells him as he gets the text from Chris.

"Umm, well shit. About that... he knows now. The doctor slipped up." He lets her know.

"Oh great. It didn't even come from us." Dani tilts her head back frustrated.

Matt texts Chris to send Colby to the room and it didn't take Colby long to get to them, "Matt, can I talk to my sister alone?" He enters the room.

"Nope, Matt stays." Dani tells Colby then gives Matt a look so he nods his head.

"How long have you two been together?" Colby asks them.

"Wow, not even, I'm glad you're okay." Dani shakes her head, "And since late March so three months. We told Chris and Nick before lunch. Tara found out recently, Madison found out seeing our texts, and his mom and older brother know too."

"Why do you have such a problem with me?" Matt asks Colby very curiously.

"I'm her brother. I'm protective of her and you two just recently met and things happened so fast. You hardly knew her when you invited her to move in. Can you blame me? You know how her ex was too." Colby tells him.

"Yeah, I barely knew her but I felt bad for her. I was helping her out. That's all I've been doing since I met her. I care for and love Dani but you don't see it because you refuse to." Matt takes a step forward, "Your parents and Gage saw it. Everyone but you sees it."

"Again I'm looking out for her. I like you Matt, I do but she's my sister. And when you two break up then what? Y'all live together. You aren't running to me because obviously that's why you moved in with them because you didn't want to come back." Colby just lets words slip out of his mouth.

"You're seriously thinking about us already breaking up?" Matt laughs while Dani just looks at her brother.

Dani starts to shake her head, "Get out." It hurt her to say it.

"What?" Colby looks at her.

"Get out of my room. If you have no intention of fixing everything you have said then leave. Colby, you are not my brother right now." Dani tries not to cry.

"You choose your boyfriend over your brother?"

"I choose what's best for me, and you screaming at me is not it!" She snaps, "I almost died and you only care about me dating Matt." It finally really hits Colby, "If Matt didn't care about me I would be dead. So please go and think about how you're going to apologize."

Colby turns to leave and he doesn't mutter a single word or look back at her. As soon as he was gone, Dani begins to cry so Matt comforts her the best he could.

"I can't believe him."

"I know but he's your brother and I'm sure he'll release how much of a dick he's been." Matt squeezes her hand.

"I made the right choice, right?" Dani second guesses herself.

"You choose yourself, so yes you made the right choice." He sits on the bed next to her.

"I hate him." Dani cries leaning into Matt's side.

"For right now yeah... I do too." He kisses the side of her head.

[another-clive-blog]

Back to thinking about Claire and Clive and their traumas born from the same tragedy yet entirely different

You ever think about the fact that Clive's parents were (almost) never directly mentioned ? Layton mentioned them for the backstory talk and that's all, objective "they are dead" statement. And the other time we heard about them was in the flashback. In both of these cases, they're only evoked to announce their death, nothing else. We never get to hear about them in present tense, Clive himself never speaks about them. They're just... Gone. They won't come back, not thanks to revenge, not as ghosts, not even in discussions. They're dead and they'll stay dead.

On the other hand, Claire is very much alive- or at least she looks like it. Even before we get to the Claire reveal, every character keeps her memory alive. Dimitri is doing this all for Claire, Layton is a living tribute to her, Don Paolo's character is linked to her choices. She's everywhere and haunting the narrative before we ever learn that she is literally haunting the narrative. She's corporeal enough to change things yet her time is up, so really how much change can she bring ? She is stuck in this transitory state where she doesn't get to live yet can't die and disappear either. Even if she were to die once and for all, most of our characters would still have her as a driving force. She is forced to influence this story far beyond her death.

I wonder how they got along. Clive for whom death is absence, it is forgotten family and empty homes, and Claire for whom death is life persisting, loud with memories and transcending feelings.

[senseiwu]

Just saw a video where someone mentioned reading the curious incident of the dog in the night time, and they thought afterwards they may have autism too. When they brought it up to their mum, she was like "you knew??" cause apparently she'd done that thing people seem to do where they keep an autism diagnosis secret from their kids

It made me remember when my grandma gave me that book to read when we were all at her place for Christmas. She said something like "I think you'll really like it", which confused me cause I was more into fantasy stuff than mystery novels. I mean. I did really like it. But it's one of the things that makes me wonder... did my parents do that thing too...?

[tonycries]

Corpse Groom - G.S.

Synopsis. Till déath do you part…or does it when a déathly error leads your newly-wedded husband to be from beyond the gráve?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, CÓRPSE BRIDE!AU, arranged marriages, period-typical mísogyny, Naoya is awful, accidental marriage, ángst, major character(s) déath, HAPPY ENDING, talks of déath, kníves, poíson, reíncarnation, Gojo YEARNS, he loves you sm I cried, hándjobs, fíngering, spítting, cúmplay, BRÉEDING, creampíes, mentions of having kids, pússydrúnk Gojo, overstím, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k (ohoho)

A/N. K!nktober isn’t over until I had to make a rewrite of my favorite Halloween movie mhm <3

“Mother, I refuse-”

“Nonsense, child!”

That sharp snap! of your mother’s feathered fan is loud enough that the whole carriage rattles on its hinges, creaking you noisily to what seemed like your very doom. 

You gulp when she’s tilting her head down as far as her best, high-collared gown would allow, eyes narrowing. “The Zenin’s are the only nobles left in this wretched town, and I will not have my daughter marrying some commoner.”

The unsteady cobblestone pathway jostles you in your cushioned seat ever-so-slightly, a pertinent little reminder of that fact.

In the deafening silence, your father pipes up - ever-the-pacifist, “Now now, why don’t we all calm down, especially before such a glorious wedding.” But his words wither out into nothing but a whisper in the simmering tension. “Like your mother said, dear, the Zenin’s are a good family, with a uh-” Coughing nervously, “-good son. We just want you to be taken care of.”

As if that was the only thing.

But there was no use arguing. 

Facing back to the gray window with a sigh, and you can only whisper. “I’d rather die than marry Naoya Zenin.”

---

“With this hand-”

“Louder.”

“With this-”

“More passionate.”

“With this damn hand-”

“Not a threat.” The older woman in front of you wrings her satin gloves, turning towards your fuming parents with a tone that matches their expression. “Honestly, I know that you new money people find it hard to adjust but this is our special tradition! My poor baby Naoya is going to be heartbroken tomorrow.”

Dutchess Zenin had a cruel sort of beauty to her, high cheekbones, and cutting eyes that picked apart every fray at your dress - the spitting image of her son.

And her “poor baby Naoya” was currently finding it impossible to hide his smirk. Swiping away invisible dust from the velvety-clad shoulder of his overpriced suit, he sets down his wine bottle from the vows.

“Don’t be too harsh, mother.” Naoya’s smooth voice comes out in a dangerous purr, and you jolt when one of his strong arms slither around your waist. Possessive. “After all, it’s this one’s face that’s what’s important.” 

God, if it weren’t for your parents’ pointed looks you would have shoved this overly-perfumed bastard away from you and bolted through those high doors faster than you could say “I do.” 

The Naoya Estate was as beautiful as its occupants could never be, brutal, looming architecture intended to make you feel smaller than you were. All those high cemented pillars, plush furniture, and gleaming chandeliers spoke of exactly what your parents wanted - power. 

It wasn’t the sort of home you’d like to call your own, but then again, you didn’t have any choice in the matter. 

“My deepest apologies on behalf of my daughter, madam-” your mother’s gritting out the words, painted lips curling ever-so-slightly towards the end with a bitter taste. “-or should I say, co-mother-in-law? Ah, come now, we might as well be family already, right?”

“Sure.” Dutchess Naoya turns, arching a needle brow. “Might as well, thanks to your family assets- if your daughter doesn’t make a joke of the vows, that is.”

The wisened officiary standing at the altar nods solemnly towards you. “Do you even want to get married tomorrow, young lady?” No, you want to answer, but bite back. “Zenin house traditions dictate that the mark of a good wife is one to follow the vows to its every syllable.”

You wince - and your features sting where they’d been perfectly stretched into a plastic smile. Your next words come out small, strangled in a way that makes your future husband smile. “I apologize, I know how important these vows are, and I’ll- I’ll do better next time.”

“Good.”

With a click of Dutchess Zenin’s fingers, a hushed, swirling piano melody fills the hall once more. 

Your wedding ballad. 

Something that Naoya had prattled on and on about being an esteemed tradition in the Zenin household, a tender tune to accompany their sacred vows. Modeled after the long-lost royalty of this kingdom, and this was the closest you’d get to a taste of it. 

It was your one initiation into power - saying those sweet, special promises - and the one thing you found impossible to get right.

“-for I will be your wine.”

Shit.

You didn’t even realize that Naoya had polished off his own vows, before you jolt at the hefty weight of wine being poured into your cup. 

And you could practically feel the burning stare of every eye in the room. Watching. Waiting. 

You’re fighting against your intricate corset to gulp in a deep inhale of the stale, thickening air. Clearing your throat ever-so-slightly, you raise the hand holding onto his wedding ring. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Y-your cup will never empty-” Fingers tightening around the silver goblet in your other, your breath hitches at the bile rising to your throat already. “-for I will be your- your uh- wine.” 

In the corner of your vision, you could spot Naoya’s smug smirk already. You could hear his tiny “As if you have any other choice.”

You knew what he was thinking.

That whisper is enough to make your jaw grind, your hand clench in a way you’d been taught by your mother not to - in a way that she’d unfortunately forgotten to tell you was for the cup’s sake, rather than your own.

Because it only takes one harsh squeeze before it just bursts.

Red, red wine trickling all down your wrist, splattering onto the gauzy curve of your gown - but more importantly, onto Naoya’s crisp suit. 

It bleeds through the velvet in thick smears, seeping into the fabric as if catching on fire. Only staining further and further with each second he’s flailing frantically to wipe it off. 

“Shit- My apologies- oh, shit-” you’re gasping, but there’s no one paying enough attention to tell you off for your unlady-like profanity right now. Body moving before your mind, you snatch some of the officiary’s papers from him, “Wait, it will only get worse- let me-”

Only to forget what was in your hands.

Honestly, if this was any other time you would have laughed watching the rest of the wine nestled safely in your cup come gushing down onto whatever was left of his unmarred suit - every single inch. 

It’s chaos.

Then it’s silence. 

Every single breathing being in the room can only watch as the last few crimson droplets drip! drip! drip! onto Naoya Zenin’s lapels.

Wordlessly, you look to the aghast officiary, your stony-faced parents, and finally, your gaping fiancé. You’re the first to speak - to hold back your chuckles, more like. “I- I cannot apologize enough…”

“You- you witch! This was on purpose, wasn’t it? Do you know how much this custom suit cost? How it was worn by the late highness himself.” Naoya’s screeching, voice shrill. Pointing a finger accusingly at you, it would be menacing if it wasn’t for the big, fat droplets of red dripping from his angry features. More of a drenched cat than the gentleman he pretends to be. “Remember that I’m doing you a favor by marrying you-”

You cross your arms, struggling to keep composure. “I shall reimburse-”

“-and acting all haughty as if you were from the royal family itself.” he’s frantic, mouth running a mile a minute. Tugging at his wet strands, “And my hair, oh my beautiful beautiful hair-”

“I shall reimburse the emotional damages, too!”

Dutchess Zenin tackles her son into a soothing embrace you find almost comical, granting you with a venomous glare that you were sure if looks could kill, she’d be lowering you into your grave and waltzing over it with Naoya already.

Simpering, “It’s quite alright my poor boy, this wedding cannot take place! We can find another-”

“No no no- no, I still want to marry her-” His greedy eyes sweep your trembling figure up and down, “Doesn’t matter if she’s an unfit wife, I’ll fix her up-” You’re quirking a brow, “Swear I’ll marry her and fix her up into-”

THUD!

You’re throwing the cup remaining in your hand as hard as you can, hitting Naoya right in the bullseye of his chest. And as soon as the air leaves his lungs, they leave yours too - in a stubborn, infuriated hiss, “Well, I’d never marry a spoiled, pompous brat like you.”

And with a flick of the stray beads of wine on your fingers at his face for good measure, you lift your heavy skirts as scandalously far as they’d travel to dart out of the door.

Out of the winding corridors. 

Out of the Zenin Estate. 

Ignoring every call of your name, every arm reaching out for you - urgently following your feet wherever they took you. Honestly, you’re so busy gasping in deep lungfuls of the cool, fall air embracing you that you’re half-surprised you only crash into a few people on the streets. 

Again. And again. And again and again, yet never stopping. Afraid of being followed by Naoya. Or even worse - your parents.

You barely even slow down until your tailored shoes crunch against gray snow, eyes taking in lines upon lines of towering trees in front of you. Tall, towering. Weaving their branches with the sky - ominous, almost, against the steadily darkening night creeping its way in.

The forest, you’re realizing with a gasp. Have you really come this far? 

Taking a glimpse over your shoulder at the twinkling lights of the town in the distance, you think of the vows that were waiting for you, and the town rumors you’d definitely sparked. Well, a walk to cool off wouldn’t hurt…

And despite wanting to relax, your thoughts only churn with each step. Replaying the scenes from earlier over and over and-

“And your cup will always- fuck- they probably think I’m such a fool.” you’re spitting, kicking at a pile of snow. “Fuck Naoya and his vows, fuck that stupid wine, should’ve shoved it up his-” 

Just then, a sudden gust of fall air puffs up against your ear, sending goosebumps careening down every bit of your exposed skin. You shudder sharply, hands shovelling for warmth inside your gown’s pockets, “Ugh, today’s such a horrible-” Only to cut yourself off with a gasp- “This is…”

You feel for that metallic cold again, hastily pulling out that solid, silvery ring. Meant for Naoya Zenin.

Admittedly gorgeous, an intricate band with a delicate sapphire embedded in its middle. Your mother had spent months tracking down the best jeweler in the country to forge a ring that even the Zenin’s would be impressed with. 

Fit for a king.

You scoff, “An unfit wife, my ass. It’s not even that difficult.”

Still feeling highly insulted, and only slightly embarrassed for it, you clear your throat. Speaking clearly into the stiff air, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Determinedly you stride your way into the middle of a slight clearing, “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

Grasping a stray branch, you mock lighting the altar candles. “With this candle, I will light your way in the darkness.”

Before setting down on one knee - customary for the groom, yet feeling so right when you gaze down at a tree root sticking up from the blanket of snow. Poised like the prettiest of fingers at the foot of a towering oak.

“With this ring,” You’re sliding it down easily as you would have to onto the man you hated the most. “I ask you to be mine.”

.

.

.

You don’t expect the sudden shift. 

You don’t expect the wind to pick up, you don’t expect for a murder of crows to materialize from the midnight darkness and crowd on a tree right behind you. Letting the tree root slip from your fingers, you whirl around - what- a storm?

But before you can think of any answers, that withered branch shoots further out of the ground. Barely giving you a split-second to jump backwards before cupping your cheek, gently. 

And you could’ve sworn that one twig glides across your cheek - just the way one’s thumb would have. Like the softest of lovers. 

Gasping in fear, you fall backwards, splaying out into the uncomfortably bone-chilling snow below.

You can only watch as the tree root twitches once. Twice. And your ears thunder with the high-pitched howls of the wind, and a sudden, booming bang! bang! bang!

Shit. 

Your eyes widen, it was coming from under the ground. 

The ground that was splitting open before your very eyes. 

Wider. And wider. Like something was baring itself before you. Something was clawing all the way from hell, that tree root only surging up, up, upwards in a long, limb-like fashion. Branching out into five fingers that dig their way into the ground. Hard. 

And if you didn’t think you were about to faint from just this - you were definitely on the verge of it when the fingers lead their way into a forearm, a shoulder. Miles upon miles of skin - a person, towering above you, silhouetted by moonlight.

He looks at you with sapphire eyes. Close. 

A man.

Beautiful. 

Whispering, “I do.” Nose to cold nose, thick white lashes fluttering shut. “You may now kiss the groom.”

---

You’re barely half-awake when you realize that that was probably the strangest dream you’ve had in your life. 

Groaning, you rub blearily at your eyes - yet, through the bursts of stars and pounding flashes of headaches, all you can think about is him and his chilling lips on yours.

Soft, like a leaving lover.  

Even in your most feverish of dreams, you’d never conjured up anyone so ethereal. Tall, powerful despite the almost-sickly air about him, and the deep circles underneath his gleaming eyes. 

But so gorgeous - sorrowfully so. 

The image burned permanently into your mind, like your most favorite of memories. Every tiny detail down from the almost-blinding reflection of the moon against his cloudy hair, to how that illuminated his soft smile - that tiny dimple at the corner of his pert, pretty mouth. 

You remember how he wore a wedding suit, the kind that nobles these days wouldn’t dare touch with a six foot sword with how it looked centuries out of fashion. Stark white, with fine silver detailing down the velvety fabric for you to admire.

How ironic, somehow, the thought made you sad.

But most of all, you especially remember the way he looked at you.

Just like he was right now.

“Ah!”

“Now that’s not usually the reaction I- fuck!”

He was real. So painfully real.

And clutching his face where you’d claimed a swat at one of high cheekbones.

“Ouch, my wife has a real good arm on her, huh?” Blinking back the haziness in your eyes, you catch sight of that same summer blue gaze, eyes crinkled slightly at the ends. Tender, despite being attacked by you less than a minute after gaining consciousness. “Though, I love a strong woman.”

“New arrival! Looks like we got ourselves a breather-”

“Looks like she fainted, is she alright? You know we can’t keep her long-”

“Can I touch her? Looks so soft~”

White - white fills your vision, too-late are you realizing that you’re being pressed into the soft coat of his chest. Inching you away from a hulking, four-armed creature, he mutters, “She’s my wife, you curse.”

“What-” It takes you a few more seconds to finally find your voice. In those moments you look up to take in his boyishly pretty features - about your age. Human, had it not been for that otherworldly faint blue pallor. “Is this a joke? Where am-”

Choking on your words as you take a sweeping look around the - tavern? Realm? It looked like the very same one in your own town, except bright. Musical. Everything that your home wasn’t. Finding faces you could never imagine looking at you - some beautiful, some mere skeletons, all taken out of your wildest dreams. 

And all dead, it hits you with a jolt. 

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt safer in his arms. 

“Something wrong, my love?”

You pinch yourself, “I need questions- now.”

“You mean answers.” One from the pub crowd scoffs - a towering man, handsome. He’d look ever-so-ordinary if it wasn’t for the completely skeletal arm on his left side. And of course, that same death-like serenity. “Honestly, Gojo, you picked an airhead or what?”

The man that still held you - Gojo, you assume - whines in protest, “Shut up, Toji. I’d always love her regardless- and she said her vows so perfectly.”

“I did…” you breathe.

Shit. 

Shit shit shit- you did.

Cocking your head, you ask. “Who are you?” 

He’s rolling his eyes, gifting you a crooked grin of pearly whites. “Your husband, obviously?”

And before you can pinch yourself again to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and that last time was a fluke - or perhaps smack him again - Gojo shows off one slender hand. Naoya Zenin’s ring adorned proudly across his ring finger. Your ring. With your vows. 

“So…” you let out a giggle of still disbelief. “You’re the tree-”

“Not quite but-”

“Oh! I love this story- could make a skeleton cry.”

“Heh, yeah yeah sing it, king of curses.”

“Please don’t.”

“You see, welcome to the Land of the Dead, doll.” A man with pink hair sets down his drink to throw one of his four arms around your shoulder, much to Gojo’s chagrin. Words dripping with taunt,  “N’ lemme tell you the story of our lovely corpse groom.”

You’re dragged along through the crowded, eerily lit tavern, everyone jostling each other to better get a look at you. Poking and prodding, some even gasping at the feeling of your thundering pulse. 

He hums, “Here we have a pompous prince known miles around-” And you could tell him and Gojo had already known each other long, with how he was toying with the other man. “-fell hard and fast for a cute lil’ peasant girl much like yourself-”

“Sukuna, stop it.” Gojo grits, jaw clenched. 

“-but, alas. When dear ol’ dad the king said ‘no’, he jus’ couldn’t cope. So our dear lovers came up with a plan to elope-”

You’re thrust into the arms of an attractive blond man, almost half of his entire face held together with stitches and bone. Heaving out a sigh in a way you could very much feel akin to, “Meeting up late at night is always a stupid plan, even with all the wine and riches for the road. You might not need much when you have love, but you never know what’s lurking. And, well, on that dark night, our prince here paid the price.” When you look back at the white-haired man his eyes seemed significantly softer, if that was even possible. 

Toji’s the one by your side this time, “Poof! Dropped dead as dust waiting for his dear girl, no evidence, no body, no bride. What a crybaby he was when he arrived. Didn’t even want to stay here-”

“-because then he made a promise to wait upstairs.” Another man - with such gorgeous, long hair makes himself known this time. Forehead littered in strange stitches, as if it’d been opened and fixed many, many times. “And waited and waited asleep for one hundred years to this day until out of the blue, you came along, sweetness. The lovely bride, to our corpse groom.”

You. 

And Gojo looks at you like he can’t look away.

Lone, standing there with his arms open as the story tapers out. Waiting. 

Until you came along.

---

“HERE YE, HERE YE…FUTURE BRIDE OF ZENIN HOUSE SEEN LURKING IN THE FOREST WITH A MYSTERY MAN– now for the weather…” 

“What?” your mother hisses at the bellows of the local newsman, well, rumor-spreader, more like. But he’s never been more useful than now. Sneaking an urgent glance at the stunned Dutchess Zenin by her side, she elbows your father, “We come outside to search for our daughter only to hear this? How could we let this-”

“Maybe it’s a ah- slow news day?”

They’re interrupted by a sudden, sharp clearing of one’s throat - dripping with the distinct tone of condescension that only a member of the Zenin family could possess. “We are one bride short for the wedding tomorrow. What a scandal!” 

“Ah!” she’s gasping. Waving her hands frantically, “W-we promise we’ll find her before the wedding-”

“You better.”

“No.” Naoya Zenin’s voice was brimming with something dangerous, an eerie, steady lilt of determination to it. But he’s not even looking at anyone in the group, eyes trained firmly on the woody entrance to the forest in the distance. “I’ll be the one to find her.”

Finally, something that seems to appease the huffing matriarch.

Only leaving her sullen son with a nod of approval, “And Naoya…” She makes sure the other two bothers were out of earshot, greedily scurrying back to the warmth of the Zenin household. “Remember, the ah- family funds are drying up. Hurry.”

---

Gojo Satoru, you learn, was as nervous about this marriage as you were.

“This is where I always visited after first dying.” he muses, ice-cold fingers wrapped snugly with yours as he guides you gently through various crooked stairs and skeletons of town. “The view takes my breath away- well, if I could breathe, that is.”

You’re startling out a laugh that has both of you surprised, and he turns to you with such breathless awe. 

“Beautiful.”

“What-” your eyes widen - and you don’t know whether it’s from his sudden little compliment, or from where you two had finally stopped walking. 

A steep cliff, overlooking the entire, vast town of multi-color lights. The rigid structure from where you came could never compare. Complete chaos. But as pretty as those paintings you read about in books, views you never thought you’d see. 

You rest your hands atop the spindly barrier surrounding the very edge, marveling. “It is beautiful…”

“It is.” Gojo’s tone is rich, and his eyes never stray from you despite all else there is to drink in. It takes you a few moments of counting all the bustling figures in the distance before you finally mount up the courage to meet his hypnotic gaze. 

Gojo jolts when you look his way, as if he wasn’t expecting it. Hastily, he flusters to pat down the sides of his suit - tattered at places, patchy as if once-pristine but ruined with age. He’s smiling once he ruffles through his breast pocket, pulling out something glinting.

You’re letting out a tiny gasp when he shows off a silver, heart-shaped locket. Intricate, obviously custom-tailored - you’d never quite seen anything like it. Positively beaming with all the shine that the rest of him had lost. 

Treasured. 

“It’s for you.”

“What?” Your jaw falls slack in shock, pushing away Gojo’s held-out hands. But he was ever-persistent. “Please- I can’t, that- that looks like it should be for someone precious.” 

“And it is.” 

This was the firmest you’d heard his sing-song voice, and at your slightest split-second of faltering, he snatches the opportunity to circle his hands around your neck. Deftly clasping it from behind, Gojo only smiles, soft pads of his fingers lingering at your nape. “I’ve had it for years.” You wanted to know exactly how many years that meant. “Consider it a wedding gift~”

Your own dust over the cool metal pendant, heart lurching. “If only you let me know about our wedding in advance, I would’ve gifted you something, too.”

“Heh, you don’t have to.”

“Do too”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” You cross your arms, boring your eyes into his. “I’m not going to be an unfit wife.”

There’s a second of silence. 

One.

Two.

And at this point, you half-expected your parents and Naoya’s to just burst from behind the nearby stairway to tell you this was all some elaborate test - before Gojo just explodes in peels of cackles. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I- hah!” he’s barely able to wheeze out, wiping away stray tears of joy. “You never change, huh-” 

It takes the embarrassed tapping of your feet for Gojo to finally straighten back up to his tall figure, muttering out a few more indiscernible phrases underneath his breath. Clearing his throat, “Now who said you’d ever be an ‘unfit wife’, sweetheart- Y’know I really didn’t believe Toji’s airhead comment but- oh-”

You land a half-hearted punch solidly in his stomach - and usually, you’d think twice, thrice before acting this familiar with anyone. Even then, you wouldn’t follow through underneath your mother’s watchful eye. 

Ah, but you’ve never smiled harder when you claim. “I think I won our first argument as a married couple.”

“Oh, can you do this f’me when I have an argument with Sukuna, next?” Gojo chuckles, wiggling his brows. 

He has to dodge your playful hand a few more times - well, he would have had to. But he’s taking them all gladly, pulling you by the wrist to press you flush against his chest. “But fine, you win. Maybe as a wedding gift we can consumm- I’m kidding I’m kidding- follow me, I have the perfect idea.”

And you couldn’t not come with him, with the way that Gojo was eagerly dragging you through the town plaza and back into the now-empty tavern, where you’d remembered had a grand piano nestled away.

Gojo’s pulling out the seat for you, before promptly taking his own flush beside you. Nudging you with one of his shoulders, he starts up a beautifully haunting few lower notes. Delicate. “You don’t have to play, you can listen if you’d like-”

“Hey, I know this one.” you’re gasping, eyes lighting up with the recognition of that familiar somber from the Zenin house. But something about it this time felt so right. 

Before you know it, your hands are moving faster than you can hold them back, joining Gojo in his sweeping melody on the higher notes. It rings in the air around you two, jostling your body up against his. 

“You know it.” he breathes, such a brilliant grin making way onto his pretty features when you two continue your little duet. And you swear you could hear him suck in a sharp inhale before playing even harder on the keys - a challenge.

And you were never one to back down. 

“Heh, you’re not half bad-” But his own little boast gets cut off by Gojo’s half-skeletal wrist snapping off, twiddling up, up, up the grand piano and on its merry way around your shoulder. “Pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

You help him reattach it back, an interesting quirk of being half-dead, you suppose. “I like your enthusiasm.”

There’s a slow, stuttering silence that echoes afterwards, and you’re shivering from the slightly cold bite of the underground. Gojo wraps his full arm around your shoulder this time, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he was still bone-cold. 

“How…” he gulps, barely meeting your eyes. “How did you know that song?”

But you couldn’t tear yours away from him, “Oh? That song? Well- before I uh- married you, I was actually engaged-”

His pretty lips fall slack, “Oh…”

You’re not sure why you hasten to explain yourself, “B-but he was a prick- and I threw a wine cup at him just before coming here.”

“That’s my girl.” Gojo winks, and you’re feeling your skin heat up.

“Anyway, this song was to be played at the wedding. So my mother made me memorize every single note- she failed to tell me it was a duet, however.”

“It was.”

Something about those two words comes out breathless, barely hanging on. And you’re biting your bottom lip ragged before the question escapes you, “You were engaged, as well? Before- as a prince- I mean- oh, forget-”

To your surprise, Gojo only chuckles - deep voice breaking ever-so-slightly at the very end. His fingers glide across the piano with a familiar sadness that you can’t quite pinpoint. Chest rumbling, “Well, it’s just as the others said. We were meant to run away together, but your dear ol’ husband here died just before we could.” 

You’re swallowing the lead that’d seemed to piled up heavily in your throat, still afraid to push too far. “And the- the bride? What happened to her?”

“I…don’t know…she probably saw I wasn’t there and went back, had a happier life with a more deserving husband- children, even.” He looks towards the perpetual night sky, Adam’s apple bobbing heftily. “It’s funny- today’s a hundred years since that day.”

Something hurt. And your chest churned at the thought of him waiting and waiting in the darkness for years. For someone.

“You loved her?”

He looks at you - really looks at you - and then down at the gleaming locket. “I love her. And I made a promise, I wait for her - in life and death.”

Something really hurt - and it wasn’t just that hollow, aching burn in your chest. No, your head was now throbbing with such a splitting pain that you can’t help but grab your temple with a yelp. Eyes scrunching shut with tears, trying to down out that drilling thrum. 

“Shit-” you’re hearing, foggy, like it was in the distance. “Shit shit shit-” Big arms wrap around you, “Are you alright? Shit-”

The swinging pub doors slam-

“What happened?”

“The bride from upstairs-”

“She’s still here?! She already dead or what?”

More and more voices are joining in - and you’re not sure if you’re thankful that they drown out that harrowing thunder of blood in your ears or angry that they’re making it ache more deafeningly in response. 

“Please- space.” Gojo’s stern command rings across the plaza, for a moment of clarity you’re thinking that he’d make the perfect leader of sorts. The perfect prince. “My wife needs space, and you all will leave-”

Nanami’s strict tremor was distinguishable anywhere. “What she needs is to go back upstairs, Gojo.” Another pair of rough hands grasp your shoulders, and you hear a growl from above you. “With fresh air, with her kind. I don’t know what fantasy you’re playing out but she needs to be back with the breathers, down here isn’t good for her.”

“But-”

Just at that unfortunate moment, your head wracks with another painful burst, making you cry out. Clinging onto Gojo’s soft jacket for dear life. 

“But she’s my wife.”

Everyone goes quiet. 

You were sure he was crying now, and oh how badly you wanted to reach out and comfort him. But, instead, Gojo’s the one soothing a hand down your back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deep, grounding gasps by the chain of your locket, “N-nanamin’s right- we- I have to get you back.”

Your eyes shoot open, “What- no-”

“It’s for your own good.” Pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, “Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

---

Gojo Satoru had spent so long in the darkness, that he’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.

Even more so when you were by his side. 

“Oh…” And despite not having a beating heart, he swears he could feel it racing at the crisp scrunch! of freshly fallen snow underneath his polished shoes. Arms immediately wrapping around your waist, twirling you to him, “How I missed the beautiful upstairs.”

You’re giggling, batting your lashes up at him. “Well, you’re not doing much sightseeing right now, are you, Gojo?”

“Please.” He rests his icy forehead against yours, waltzing you slowly around the clearing. Your first dance. “Call me Satoru, I would like to part ways having heard my name on your tongue once, than not at all.” 

And ah, it hurt him more than that dull, spreading pain of death to simply see your expression crumble. Lower lip wobbling when you whisper, “Do we have to?”

It’s as if that tiny tremble in your voice jolts him back to his senses, and he’s letting go of you as if you burned. Turning his back so that you won’t see him swipe underneath his dampening eyes, “We do.” he nods solemnly. Still gazing out through the barren trees, the snow breaking in. “But I would…if you’d like- I would really like you to say my name just once.”

Nothing - not one of your quipping insults, not even one of your sweet, sweet giggles. Gojo could barely even hear that shallow breathing of yours. 

“My love?”

Nothing.

Gojo whirls around, “My love?”

Nothing. 

---

“Let me go let me- go-” you spit, voice dripping with a deadly growl that should decidedly not be used in front of your future in-laws. But you didn’t give a fuck right now. “I will never- ah-”

Unceremoniously, you’re thrown like a mere debris in front of Dutchess Zenin’s gold-tipped boots, hands splaying out against the cool marble to dredge up some ounce of balance. You look up into her burning glare, hissing, “I will never marry your son.” 

But it’s like you’d never spoken at all.

She’s turning to Naoya, stood proudly behind you, holding back his snickers. “Ah, my son-” Reaching her arms around to brush off the soft pattering of snow down his coat. “-I see you’ve brought your wife back.”

“Of course, mother.” he’s humming. “Had to walk all throughout that crummy forest until I saw her-” At this, he’s turning towards your parents, who could only watch from the sidelines. “-with another man no less- well, can’t quite call him that if he didn’t even see his woman being dragged off into the dark.”

Dutchess Zenin cackles,and the sound makes you grit your teeth. “That other man is my husband-”

“What?” 

It’s your own mother speaking this time - eyes widened. Fuming. She comes up to you in a few urgent, sharp strides, grabbing at the now-torn and frayed edges of your gown. “What nonsense are you speaking-” Sneaking a glance at your father, “Our daughter seems to have lost her mind, dear.”

He’s just a bit more gentle - cautious, almost. As if confronting a cornered wildcat when he ruffles through your pockets for the ring. Finding none. 

You’re wrenching yourself away, “I’m fine- but father, listen- I was practicing my vows in the forest-” Every eye was on you know, and oh you’ve never felt more of a spectacle. “-and I put that wedding ring on a tree root- and it- it came alive and oh- he was a groom. A beautiful corpse groom-”

“That trip to the forest must have bogged up her mind- yes yes, she must be imagining things.”

“Of course, but the wedding…poor dear-”

“The only thing she’s good for is the money.” Dutchess Zenin gruffs, tired of hiding her disdain. “And maybe a free trip to the hospi-”

“The wedding will take place.” Naoya cuts in gruffly, snapping his fingers at a nearby attendant and pointing at you. “Call the officiary, and as for my future bride, I don’t care if you must force her into that wedding dress, I don’t care if you have to drag her here - she will marry me one way or the other. Now.”

It’s like you’re a puppet - their puppet. Being rapidly walked and bathed about, dolled-up in a white, silken wedding dress that you could never see yourself standing in next to him. 

It fits you like a glove, attuned to your body as if it was made for you - and you almost hated how beautiful it was, adorned with tiny silver inklings and the most delicate of lace. Made with too much love to be borne out of this dreary household, but when you turned to ask your jittery handmaiden about it, she’d only cryptically answered about “the dress being with this family for a long, long time.”

No one here seems to give you answers.

Or grace.

Or anything but locked windows that you crack a nail or two attempting to open and flee and a long, decorated aisle to walk down to your future husband. Naoya. 

Your throat tightens when you’re stepping back into that hallway - now flourishing with bouquets of blue, blue baby’s breath, and twinkling candles. It was almost colorful, for this town, at least.

You shudder out a teary sigh when the tender piano starts up again - the exact same tune you’d played with Gojo. But cold. And suddenly, you’re realizing that you never asked him how he knew the song.

“Pssst! Walk!” Your mother’s high-pitched hiss is enough to snap you out of your little reverie, glassy eyes snapping up to look at her urgent signal to hurry up.

And so you walk, but not to the one man you wanted to.

Naoya’s smirk lies as smugly as ever when you take your place beside him at the altar, poised, and perfect in his pressed suit, his glinting sword. Whispering snidely from the corner of his mouth. “Smile a little, it’s a wedding after all.”

You keep your gaze trained firmly on the officiary starting his speech, “Perhaps in disappointment, we are perfectly matched.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this bride in holy matrimony-” Gesturing a wrinkled hand at Naoya, “You may begin first.”

He raises his hand in a solemn oath, razor eyes boring relentlessly into yours. Voice dangerous, humming. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” This time, he was pointedly the one to pick up that cup on the altar table - a steady, unbreakable metal this time. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” 

Your trembly fingers wrap around the bottle of wine, starting to slowly pour. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty for I- I will be…”

Shit.

Shit, you can’t do it. 

Your words struggle to come out, and you could burn in the sheer anger already wafting from Naoya. 

“I will- I will be-”

“How scandalous to marry an already-married woman~!”

The gasp that echoes throughout the hall is almost as deafening as the booming crash! of those towering, mahogany doors being swung open. Clattering against the walls so hard that your teeth chatter with vibration - but you didn’t care. Didn’t even feel it because you’re too awe-struck by what was standing in front of you.

Or more accurately, who. 

“Satoru!” The tears are falling hotly down your cheeks, you barely have the patience to lift up your layers upon layers of gauzy skirts before stumbling your way into his arms at the very end of the aisle. Ready. Ever-loving. Catching you easily like he’d been waiting a hundred years for this very moment. 

“I thought you left me waiting.” he breathes.

“I would never- and- and you’re here.” 

“Mhm–”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “How did you even know where to find me?”

“Our duet- there would be no other but this house that would know it-” He wraps his arms even more snugly around your waist, white locks tickling your nose. “And you did promise to lift my sorrows, what type of husband would I be if I didn’t do the same?”

“You. You- What- what is the meaning of this?” Dutchess Zenin’s squawk tears through your little moment, she’s whirling into a furious stand, fists clenched. “Married woman- husband? You’re dead!”

Gojo remains calm, sapphire eyes narrowing, “I am.”

But the ever-composed woman you’d feared for so long was now running her mouth a mile a minute, half-ripping out chunks of hair in frustration as the officiary held her back from storming her way towards the two of you. 

“You’re dead you’re dead you’re dead-” she screeches, and even Naoya could only watch with his mouth fallen. “You’re dead- my family made sure of that-”

She stops short, mouth opening and closing in a gasp until you breathe, “M-made sure?”

“Yes-” She’s fighting against the hold, still muttering to herself maniacally. “Shit- we made sure to- oh god why- do we have to kill you all over again! Your wretched Gojo royal family is wiped out- I still- I still have the power, the riches- All because we left you-”

“For dead.” he whispers. You’re too shocked to gasp - to do anything but look up at his reaction. “But she came back to me.”

“Her? This one- Once more you found that insignificant little-”

And at this very moment, Naoya just bellows in a guttural scream, everything his mother was restrained from doing with how he’d closed the gap between you two in a few urgent seconds. One hand wrapped roughly around yours, “I don’t care- You forget she was engaged to me first.”

“She’s still my wife.” Gojo spits. 

“Not if you’re-” Naoya’s unsheathing his sword haphazardly. Swinging. “Dead!”

Schwing–!

It would have been sure to hit you. 

Would have been sure to gravely injure your side - if Gojo hadn’t deftly moved himself squarely in front of you, that is. The sharp blade slicing right through his ribs - yet, he still smiles. “You forget I already am.” In one, fluid motion tackling the sword to holt at its bejeweled hilt - pointed right at Naoya’s chest. “Let go of me and my wife, before you join me.”

It’s silence.

Silence and the smell of fear. Sour, and saturated when Naoya’s stepping away, one unsteady foot after the other-

“I will ruin you as my ancestors have, Gojo brat-”

Dutchess Zenin.

Your body moves before your mind - before any form of thinking, as if on instinct. Yet, you already knew what was coming. 

And soon enough, you’re standing in front of a stunned Gojo, face splattered with the red, red wine in her silvery cup. Drip! drip! dripping down your stained lips and onto the marbled floors. 

But something about it tasted bitter. 

Different.

.

.

.

And all of a sudden - you see dark.

“Poison! By gods, the wine was poisoned!”

“How will the wedding go on?”

“No- no no no I just wanted to her sick- to get her will–shit-”

“My love---listen----hear--me?” 

In the foggy distance, you could hear girlish, high-pitched screams that sounded strangely like Naoya’s, and the familiarly dark chuckle of- Sukuna? Sounding ready to pounce on fresh meat. “Heheh, new arrival - and some unfinished business, huh?”

“S’Toru–” you’re whispering, eyes blearily. Heart cold. Suddenly, everything about you was cold. And the only thing you could register right now is the fact that you were still in his arms - always was. “Toru- am I- where am I?”

“You’re here, sweetheart.” he gasps, big fat tears splattering onto your face. The only sense of warmth that you could feel, other than the one in your no-longer-beating heart. And you can’t help but wonder - can a heart be broken even when it stops beating? Because he was living two deaths now - his own - laying there poisoned with wine so long ago on the forest floor, with only the Zenin’s to watch, and you to wait for him much later - and most importantly, yours. “You’re- you’re here, with me.” He places a sweet, sweet kiss onto your lips. “Rest now, I’ll wait for you. I promise- I promise.” 

And through your hazy vision, the only thing that you could quite see was that silver locket you’d never thought to look through, out of fear - sprung open. Baring two grainy, clouded portraits - as good as a photo. 

Of him 

And…you. 

“I’ll always wait for you, in life and death.”

---

“Hey- Toru–” your voice rings out in Gojo’s favorite song, peering curiously at the boyishly grinning prince. “Do you think I’ll be an unfit wife?”

He throws his head back with a cackle, peering through his long lashes from where he was resting his head in your lap. “What- no? Whatever makes you think that, silly girl?”

You’re settling yourself further down the young oak - your favorite little hiding spot ever since you’d introduced your secret lover to it. Grumbling half-jokingly, you thread your fingers through his soft, snow-white hair. “Well perhaps because someone refuses to help me do anything in preparation for tonight-”

“Shhh!” Gojo’s bringing a finger to his lips, glancing around over-dramatically. “You never know when my father will be jumping from behind the bushes.” At your amused laughter, “N’ besides, doesn’t matter if we’re going to elope, I’m not letting my wife pick up a thing.”

“What- no-”

“I’ll snag my wedding suit- and that specially-made dress for you heh- and get the attendants to sneak out some leftovers from the banquet. The Zenin family has just gifted some wine I know you’ll love.” 

Craning his head to press a slow kiss to your forehead, “We’ll drink, we’ll say our vows- you better have memorized them this time-” And another on your nose, “Then I’ll have you drunk in another way~ ow! Okay okay- don’t hit royalty–! And run away to our happily ever after.” Then, finally, lingeringly on your mouth,“Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

You’re fiddling with the chain around your hefty, heart-shaped locket with a huff, finally caving in. “Fine- but then-” Deftly unclasping it, “-you have the responsibility of keeping this safe, too, I have to teach piano to the little ones in town again today, and if anyone catches me with a piece like this I’ll be hanged for thievery before ever getting married.”

“Our duet?”

“Our duet.”

He twirls that delicate pendant around his fingers, brows scrunching in half-seriousness. “I’ll protect it with my life-” Almost flinging it towards the end of the clearing in his haste to salute you, “Ah- pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

“I like your enthusiasm, dummy.” you’re rolling your eyes at his antics. “But what if I’m late? The music lessons always take so long…”

“Just meet me here at our place - promise I’ll wait for you, of course. In life and death.”

You never did find out if Gojo Satoru waited for you.

You never found him that night - running late to the clearing, only to be met with no sign of him. Not that night. Not the night after. Night after night, you waited for him - watched as the Gojo royal family fell and the Zenin’s raided their palace, as the town started to grow and you stayed the very same.

With stray hope, even in your final ages, waiting for him and the marriage that won’t take place.

Not for a hundred years.

---

You’re waking up remembering the feeling of those cold, cold lips on yours. 

Finally, remembering.

“Sa-Toru-” you’re gasping, gulping in heavy lungfuls of air before you realize - you don’t need it anymore. Eyes startling open, you wince at the even the dim, heady lighting overhead. “I’m…”

“Dead.”

His words are gentle - just above a whisper, as if anything else will scare you off. But his words have the complete opposite reaction, in fact, you’re reeling him in so close by the silvery lapels of his weathered jacket. Wedding suit meeting your wedding dress.

You feel over his broad chest, and then over yours. Breathing out in awe, “I- I really am dead.”

Gojo’s wincing, running the soft pads of his fingers down your scalp. Massaging, “How- how do you feel, my love?”

Too-late you’re realizing that you’re splayed out on what seems like a plush, engulfing bed. Blankets upon blankets of velvety fabrics covering the surface, like someone had tried their very best to replicate warmth. 

“I think I feel…” you’re muttering, the very corners of your painted lips turning upwards at the way that Gojo was hanging onto your every word. Pretty mouth dropped into a soft oh! eyes wide and true. You just can’t help but drag him into the tightest embrace your joints could possibly handle. “-that I haven’t spent enough alone-time with my husband.”

He laughs - he laughs and laughs like he hasn’t before, like it’d been bubbling up in his throat for years and finally set free. 

“Oh, my love.” Gojo reveres, pressing a trail of hot kisses down the side of your face. Lingering in a languid lick where big, salty tears of yours were welling up. “We have all the time in the world- I just- just- do you remember?”

You’re pretending to think, leaving him careening at all your minute expressions. Finally cracking, “Of course, I remember- all of it, dummy-” Swatting his chest, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s gulping heavily, “I always knew that- that it was you the moment I saw your face- you look exactly as you did. Exactly as beautiful as the day I lost you, after all.” Cupping your cheek, “And oh, sweetheart, what a blessing it would be to marry you. But how could I ever tell you when you didn’t even remember me? How could I so selfishly ask you to throw away something so dear as life for me? Even for a promise?”

“I would have done it.” you’re pouting, brows scrunching. 

“Exactly.” 

“I waited for you, y’know. For years, until my death. No ‘deserving husband’, and no children.”

He gasps a tiny, meaningful gasp. And for all how Gojo loved to run his mouth, right now he only presses a sultry kiss to your forehead, “But in this life, or the last, or whatever comes next-” On your nose now, “-I’ll wait for you. Always have, always will.” Finally - yearningly - on your mouth, “In life and in death.”

Gojo kisses you like he’s been waiting a hundred years for it - and would wait a hundred more before he can again. 

Pressing one, two. Three steamingly hot, open-mouthed on your spit-glossed lips before moving to trail them down the underside of your jaw. Dragging his raw lips in a messy glide, he’s tittering when all it takes is one sudden bite at the soft spot on your neck to get you to jump. 

“Heh- you never change-” he murmurs into your heated skin, licking down the sting with a slow spread of his tongue. 

“T-Toru–” you’re managing to gasp out despite his relentless attack on your mouth. Making him wrench out such a pained grunt when you pull his face back ever-so-slightly to look into Gojo’s eyes. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Gojo can only cock his head in confusion, gaze still half-lidded and locked on your lips. 

“You’re forgetting your promise from all those years ago–” you’re dragging out in a honeyed-tone, giggling at the way his hulking body squirms impatiently. “-to consummate our marriage.”

And oh.

Oh, Gojo Satoru feels he’s dying six times over already. 

He feels like his bleary head is about to go into overdrive - as was the sudden tightening in his pants. 

“W-well then…” he’s rasping out, voice so ragged, dipping into a husky baritone that for a second you almost don’t recognize it. Two of his long fingers cup your face once more - rougher this time, making your lips squeeze together into an almost-embarrassing oh! “Open that mouth f’me, my love.”

You barely even realize it when you do - not until Gojo’s spitting a thick, translucent wad of his syrupy saliva right onto your lolling tongue. 

Nodding smugly when you’re taking him all, he’s swiping the curve of his thick thumb down that purposeful splatter on the corner of your lips. Because you knew the prince of a nation should have perfect aim, you knew he just liked seeing your dewy eyes flutter. 

Whispering hoarsely against your lips, “I ask you to be mine.”

“Yes-” you’re whining, your hands scrambling down the decadent fabrics of his suit. “Yes yes yes- please- n-need more, Toru-”

And the sound of that cute lil’ nickname you’d made for him in that sweetened tone makes Gojo’s entire body wrack with a violent shudder. Head throwing back, white lashes flickering shut- “O-oh, shit- shit you’re gonna be the death of me-”

But whatever little joke playing on your tongue just dissipates when Gojo’s shedding his outer coat off slowly. Bloodied, silken jacket hitting the ground- bloodied? You’ll have to ask about that later.

And then his mouth is on yours again - teeth clashing, tasting metal, his pretty lips wrapping around your hot tongue to just suck. Lazily, like his favorite candy. 

“So beautiful-” his words puff out in a feverish pant. Chest huffing - no, heaving - you can only keen when you feel something so hard and massive nudge up in a gentle kiss against your high. “So perfect–” The sodden curve of his achy tip dragging in a wet smear down your leg. “So mine.”

As soon as you’re blinking your dazed eyes back open, you’re hit with what looked like miles upon miles of Gojo Satoru. Curving muscles sitting prettily and casting shadow in the low lighting - it made you just drool. 

Shit, when did he even take his shirt off?

“Heh, already so needy, sweetheart?” He kisses up the glossy trickle, groaning into your mouth, “So cute–”

But, of course, you weren’t exactly one to be pushed around, either.

With a low purr, you cup that bulging tent right in-between his muscled thighs. Fingers skimming over inches upon inches of his girthy, solid shaft - he just gasps. “O-oh, you little minx- do you enjoy p-playing with my hngh- sanity?”

With a snicker, it doesn’t take you long to smudge the pads of your digits at that thickly spreading pool of precum. Glossing a thin sheen all the way down to your wrists with how fucking greedily he was throbbing at your touch. 

“F-fuck-” he’s hastily clearing his throat as soon as it breaks off into a pathetic whine. Hips bucking forwards in mindless, staggering gyrations into your hand like Gojo didn’t even realize what he was doing right now. “Fuck fuck fuck- honey, I-”

The neediest little grunts spill from his puffed-up lips, and he’s moving urgently - hastily, when sitting upright to all but rip that bejeweled belt off of his slender waist. Tugging his white pants down, down, down and-

Oh. 

“Fuck, Toru.”

Gojo was so unfairly pretty - all of him.

Even every single inch of his long, thick shaft, smeared with glistening precum sobbing out from his fat, round head. Blushed darker than the rest of him - matching his innocent cheeks right now. So hard it looked painful. 

Twitching over and over in saturated gushes coating his prominently throbbing veins, his tight balls. Your fingers. 

Wrapping tight around his flushed base, he was so incredibly big that you’re worried your fingers wouldn’t even close. Scratching up against those drenched tufts of cloudy white at his toned pelvis, the sight is enough to make you gulp. 

“Yes-” Gojo’s rasping, head thrown back because shit did it feel good to have your pretty lil’ fingers all wrapped around him. Hips stuttering up, up, up- “Yes yes yes- c’mon- c-c’mon my wife-”

Shit, those words spilling from his lips are enough to steer into such a loud moan, and he’s letting his jaw fall unhinged. Jaw-droppingly powerful back muscles flexing when he falls into a hunch, kissing wetly at your lips. 

“Tighter- squeeze ah, squeeze me at my tip-” Gojo’s babbling, drunken eyes so thoroughly locked on where you were pumping your fist back and forth. “Y-yeah hngh- and glide your thumb over just—”

You’re swiping the very tip of your thumb underneath that sensitive slit of his, the slightest touch enough to make him bawl out in a dripping sheen of precum. Reddening even more, his hefty girth in your hand jolts sensitively. 

“S-s’this–” you stagger out, wrist aching when you’re moving it faster. And faster. Ears ringing with the sloppy fap! fap! fap! of your fingers clenching around his thick, circular girth, the splatters of precum it’s forcing from him. Kissing gently down his burning shoulder, “S’this good, Toru?”

And god, how dare you even ask that?

With a sudden groan, he crashes his lips into yours again. Addicted. Growling against your whiny mouth, you’re flinching at the nip of his sharp canines. 

“Oh, yer perfect-” he’s blinking back big, fat tears from behind those glassy eyes. And the soft plane of his palms dance ravenously down your body - all your curves, your dips where your wedding dress was hiking up. But most importantly at your sopping wet cunt. “-so so- p-perfect- any harder n’ m’gonna make ya a pretty momma right now, right here.”

His words come out a burst - a beg. 

In that very heady moment he’s just bullying his thick digits past your soaked pussy - absolutely useless with how fucking translucent it was. Sticking to your sopping wet folds like a second skin that he wanted to rip off. 

“S-so oh!” Sucking in a sharp gasp at the sight of that tiny lace wrapped around his fingers, “Such a pretty cunt, wearin’ such a dirty lil’ thing, naughty girl- who was this for?”

And you couldn’t dare bear to wrench your lips open, to meet that dark glint in Gojo’s gaze. Hooded, such a slow, leering grin growing all over his face when the seconds tumble by. When your softened fingers falter around his length.

“Who was this for?” he’s echoing. “N’ no lying to your h-husband.”

“Toru-”

“Tell me, my pretty wife.”

“It was-” you’re mewling out, choking on your tiny confession when he slides his index solidly down the drippingly wet purse of your swollen pussy lips. Puffed-up and sensitive against where he was rubbing that cool metal ring against them. “-w-was for ngh- N-Naoya- but it was Dutchess Zenin that made me-”

Oh, but fuck - it didn’t matter who made you wear those sinful panties. 

Because it’s only taking Gojo Satoru a split-second to crane his hot mouth downwards and bite down on the very hem of your saturated panties. Biting the edge of your skin only slightly - before just tearing the fabric off with his very teeth. 

He takes a few seconds with his greedy gaze boring into yours, crazed. Canines bared glintingly around that tender lace, he just groans. 

Eyes rolling to the back of his head before spitting it out - and kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before. 

“H-hngh, Toru–” you’re moaning, your fingers half-cramping up with the way they were turning around his swollen cock. Swiveling around the heated bumps of his sensitive spots, the drag of your nails gently down his veins make him shiver. “Feels so- ah!”

And ah, for how much Gojo loved those saccharine sweet moans in your ear, how much he loved teasing you - he was hungry. 

Shoveling all the way into your gummy channel, until your puffy pussy lips were kissing his very knuckles, gushing out in spurts of wet slick down his wrist. Twirling those cold digits, so stark against how toasty you were inside. 

It made Gojo’s thickened tip twitch in your fingers, huffing out a humorless laugh when he was easily knocking against that bulbous bullseye of your g-spot. Pressing down. Hard. 

“Mhm—” he’s purring, nosing down the tender crook of your neck. “Tell me how it feels- hngh- gotta tell me- fuck oh fuck don’ squeeze me like that- ah-”

He’s just wrenching out the most dripping squelches with each rummaging pump into your melty cunt, your walls were just molding around his digits. Sucking him back in like you’re trying to milk out something delicious- fuck, how he wished this was his achy cock right now, instead.

Gojo’s biting down hard at that magical spot on your neck, sending shocks of electricity down your sluttily arched spine. “Can’t- hah- can’t take it anymore- shit- needa be inside you soon. Needa fill ya up soon.”

And he didn’t even have to tell you - you could feel it. 

Building up and up with every relentless such of his glistening fingers. Glossy. 

“Need to make you mine-” he’s gasping, heatedly. Tone cracking on almost a bawl, his hips are fucking into your hand like his little cocksleeve, up all the way from weepy head down to thwack into his pulsing base. Fingers bumping messily into his taut, twitchy balls - making Gojo’s mouth water. “Need to- hngh- need to make you cum! Please-”

Tears crinkling at the very ends of his doe eyes, after every single crash along your sweet spot. Thorough wet glides. “Please please please-”

And it’s whispered over and over like a mantra when you’re cumming - again and again, so hard that you didn’t even realize you’re reaching your high before your tight pussy clamps around his fingers. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah, cum all over my fingers.” He’s thrusting his fingers in and out so rabidly, hitting all your forbidden spots. Free hand pushing apart your quivering thighs even further, “Spread wide- heheh, yeahhh–”

Those sudden slurps sounded so thunderous in your ears, and your maw sags open deliriously in a higher-pitched ah! ah! ah! Grinding your hips down over and over in needy swivels, using him. Music to his ears, making his staggering erection just weep so dangerously- but he can’t cum. 

Won’t cum just yet. 

Not until he’s fucked you through each and every one of your peaks, not until your convulses are tapering out into nothing but tiny tingles. 

And then he’s dragging out his ruined fingers from your sodden cunt - out, out, out. Snapping delicate strings of the mess he’s made of your poor pussy, before pushing them through his lips rawly. 

“M-mmm-” he’s rumbling from the very depths of his broad chest, pecs heaving. And through your half-lucid gaze, you’re spying a silvery dribble of drool down the side of his lips. Moaning at the sweet, sweet taste. “Shit- shit, sweetheart-”

You can’t even react before he’s then spitting a steady stream of wispy saliva down to your sloppy hole, swirling it around with one of his thumbs. 

“Better let her know m’coming back for seconds later.”

You whine all brattily, your hips arching into the perfect buck upwards - which only makes him grin. “Heh- my greedy girl, if I waited one hundred years ya can wait a few seconds.”

It’s so admonishing - and Gojo has never told a bigger lie. 

Because he’s the one that’s so painfully impatient right now, angry cock spewing out a few more velvety waves of precum down your gleaming palm. A low string of profanity rips from his throat, and he’s just diving his hands around every inch of your body he could reach.

Deftly untangling those tedious ties at the back, “Damn these little- forgot how many ribbons I fuckin’- ordered-”

In split-seconds, you’re being flipped over with one fluid push of Gojo’s biceps, sinking your front into the royally soft mattress. You felt like you were in heaven.

“Toru–” you’re whirling your head over your shoulder to admire just how much his biceps flex. Twitching with each eager rip down your bodice. Shaky fingers tightening on the silken sheets, “H-hurry up-”

“Easy there, my love.”

It’s ragged, breathed hotly against your ear, and suddenly Gojo’s resting every bit of his body weight on top of yours to pin you down helplessly onto the bed. Holding your squirming hips captive onto one rough hand attached to them, “Arch jus’ a bite more- please- fuuuck like that yeah-”

He’s taking the opportunity to fling your wedding dress down easily, bunching it somewhere towards the corner of the bedroom - right alongside your bra and inner layers. 

You’re gasping - stunned. 

“Don’t l-look at me like that, I’ve had one hundred hah- years to practice this exact moment with my hand n’ imagination-” 

And then Gojo’s gasping, he’s snapping his eyes open, he’s heaving out the most whiny call of your name when you push your hips back in a wet slide against his painfully hard cock. 

Your folds smacking wetly against his shaft, dragging in a dripping trail along his veins - and shit, Gojo really underestimated how fucking hot you’d feel against his cock. How readily awaiting when his slender hips rut down in a furious push and pull. “This is long overdue.”

“Hey!” you jut your spit-sheen lower lip out when he’s rudely smacking away your hand from the clasp of your locket. “Wha’s that for?”

“Keep it on.” Gojo nips at your earlobe.

And then he’s spitting you open - he’s pushing in. 

Inch by fucking inch of his swelteringly hot cock being shovelled into your gooey cunt, stretching out your snug walls to their limits. Pulled taut. Barely giving an apologetic kiss to the side of your head before Gojo’s circling one big beefy arm around your hips, easily tilting your entire body upwards for him to surge his hips even deeper. 

He gasps, he shudders at the faintest of your wet clenches. “C’mon-c’mon c’mon c’mon- a-ah- you can take it please- please take it f’me.” 

How could you not?

Because every one of his tiny, shallow grinds just to fit in have your mouth dropping further and further open cockdrunkenly. 

“Please-” your hands fist at the plushy pillows, the headboards, craning behind at Gojo’s neck. “Fuck me h-harder, Toru- I can-”

“Ohhh- you play a hah- dangerous game.” He swipes away the stray hairs on your forehead, kissing at your sweat-slicked forehead. “My beautiful bride- my beautiful, beautiful bride - ah- almost makes me wanna m-make you more.”

Just that split-second of sultry shock is enough for Gojo to push in fully - all the way until your thighs sting with the sudden thwack! of his hefty, cum-filled balls, your folds kissing up against his thickened base.

He’s hissing when his achy, rounded tip recoils ever-so-slightly against the spongy mess of your cervix, hitting it relentlessly in harsh jackhammer. Spearheading his fat cock to massage up against all your sensitive spots in a more dizzying way than even his fingers could. 

“Wh-what do you m-mean-” They’re falling from your mouth as hastily as Gojo can pump you stuffed full of his cock. Not even easing into it, starting up a sloppy cadence. “-b-by–”

“Awww, don’ hngh- p-push yourself, my love–” he’s simpering out. But oh his hips were speaking a completely different language from how soothing your husband’s tone was, one hand curling deftly around your throat to reel you in even harsher in sudden swats against his ever-pushing hips. Twirling around the chain of your locket, “What I mean is…”

Both of your half-lidded gazes are downturned to where he feels for that tiny nudge at about halfway down your stomach. Drawing an imaginary line about halfway through, before splaying down all five digits. Hard. “-that m’gonna make ya a pretty momma as well as my pretty wife.”

This little confession is followed by a particularly hard slam! from Gojo’s end, and you dart your hand out to grasp desperately onto the wooden headboard. 

Crying out, “Is- is that even possible, Toru?”

But the only actual response that Gojo can give - that he thinks himself capable of giving right now, with how mind-numbingly your pretty pussy was milking any rationality out of him - is a breathless chuckle. His head throwing back with a whimper, brows knitting together. “I don’t know hah! Haven’t got a fuckin’ clue- but that doesn’t mean m’not gonna fucking try–”

And he was fucking you into the mattress just like it, well and fully intent on breeding your tight cunt. Jostling the locket at your chest with rough, reckless abandon. Every sodden drag down your slobbery walls having those dreams from a lifetime ago about your happily every after playing through his mind.

You, with your drooling pussy painted all white with his potent cum, making such a mess of him that he just has to do it all over again, of course. 

You, all round and glowing - full of him, his heir. 

You, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes - another, tinier set held delicately in your hands. His hair, and your smile. Everything that he’s ever wanted in life and death. 

Stupidly. Pussydrunkenly. 

“Oh oh-” Gojo’s groaning, the sudden bump of your fingers against the sensitive curve of his balls making him jolt back into his reality. His heavenly, heavenly reality. “Aww, have I b-been neglecting you, my love?”

No, you want to scream - but you can’t. 

Because he’s only hiking up a powerful thigh to pressurize his harrowing rams with even more power, and you could feel every flex and ripple of his washboard abs. The spatter of pearlescent beads of sweat setting in with fatigue. 

But Gojo wouldn’t listen in the first place, couldn’t even think of anything that didn’t stem from his achy cock pummeling into you. 

Messily, he’s swiping at those fingers of yours that were currently reaching for your angrily puffy clit, aching for more more more- 

Giving a mean little smack onto where your sensitive nub was drenched in all your sweetened juices, it sends bolts of electricity all over your body. Clinging your gummy walls around his girth so tight. 

“This what y-you wanted?” he rasps by your ear, drawing slow, determined circles on the very peak of your clit. And when that doesn’t have you crying out all prettily for him the way he wanted - Gojo just tugs. Unapologetically. “Tell me- ngh- tell me how it feels, fuck- can feel this cunt gettin’ so soaked-”

“Yes-” you’re sobbing out. Hips now aching with the burn of pushing back into his unrelenting hips - it hurts almost. The sting of his skin against you, the hard collision of his fat head against your cervix. But you want more. “Y-yes feels so good, Toru- need more hngh- need you t-to…”

“What?” he’s spitting. Wild. “Tell me, sweetheart- please- please-”

And, hell, Gojo Satoru wanted to hear so badly that he’s just slowing his hips down every so slightly to let you catch your breath. To answer. 

But what he was actually blessed with was another one of your long, drawn-out whines. Grumbling ever-so-slightly as you jolt your hips back with every one of the thorough swivels of his fingers on your clit. Toying. 

Fucking back harder than ever into his rock-hard dick, the locket just slams it’s cool branding onto the heated skin of your chest-

“Need you to f-fill me up-” you mutter wetly, nothing more than a few gurgles wrenched out when his clashing head French-kisses your g-spot. Drawing wet glides of his steamy precum down it. “-make me a hngh- m-momma, Toru-”

Oh, this might just be his third death ever. 

Because the bed creaks riotously with every one of his ragged rams, in a way that made you glad for the ever-present music of this town. 

Over and over.

“Yeah- shit, gonna make you a p-pretty momma-” he’s babbling away, a mile a minute. So sloppy that you’re barely able to understand what Gojo was saying. “Fill you- up- ngh- so they’ll look at you and see me. All me- all pretty and r-round- me me me- oh—”

Right now, Gojo didn’t give a fuck if his little dream was even possible. He didn’t give a fuck if his moans were turning into whimper, staggering thrusts trudging into the sloppiest of grinds. The neediest. 

Because right now you were cumming. 

That rapid throb of your clit increasing twofold when you’re finally plummeting into your high, wave after wave of pleasure that he fucks you through with heavy pound after pound. 

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, toes curling, flashes of white flitting behind your firmly shut eyes. Fuck, it felt so good. 

And your fingers clench hard around where they were still firmly stationed on the headboard to keep at least an ounce of your sanity. Intertwining with- Gojo’s when he slams his hand down hard enough that the entire bed shudders. 

Or maybe that was just him - because so was he. 

“F-finally-” Gojo’s hiccuping, angling his head just right to be able to catch your pretty lips in what could barely be considered a kiss. Just a sloppy suck of your tongue while he pumps you snugly full of sloshing loads of his cum. “Wan’ed this for- so long- finally hngh- consummate- you- most beautiful ah momma-”

His whines were nonsensical at this point, only growing more and more so with each velvety ribbon of cum being poured around into your tight pussy. You could feel it swashing about your soft walls with every one of your hard, convulsing clenches, painting your insides over and over again in a second, sticky skin of his seed. 

“Yeah- fuck fuck fuck, yeah Toru- hah- m-more-”

And just when Gojo thought the almost-painful clenches of his heavy balls were coming to a close, just when he thought his thick streams of voluminous cum were stretching out into thinner wisps - you have to go and say those syrupy sweet words. 

Fuck. 

He’s gasping, locking his finger with yours even harder on the headboard, “Gonna- ngh- gonna be the death of me I s-swear–”

Oh, and then you looked at him with that fucked-out smile of yours. A sight he’s gifted to see. Humming, “In life and in death, r-remember?”

Bang! 

The headboard crashes down onto the floor. Your back is hitting the now utterly drenched sheet below you before the realization hits you. 

In nothing but a split-second, Gojo pulls out his dangerously twitching cock to manhandle you flatly onto your back. Swiftly, he throws your legs over the curvaceous deltoids of his sculpted shoulder, easily bending you down, down, down into half.

Into the meanest mating press possible.

Dredges of thick, hot cum just ooze down your sopping slit, spreading in a milky circle underneath you. And slobbering down Gojo’s swollen hilt as soon as he plugs himself back in - immediately.

The very divot at the end of his cock quivering - for only a split-second before bursting out in streams of more and more cum. Overflowing. Overspilling out of you.

And he can’t help but glide an open palm over that tiny inflation beginning to form where he’d drawn a line just earlier. One hand pressing down on it hard, the other tweaking at your clit to make your walls clench. 

“Oh f-fuck yeah–” Gojo stutters at the glossy coating of his own seed all around him. Reveling in the toasty feeling again and again until his poor, overworked cock can only sputter out wispy strings of nothing. Shooting blanks. “Gonna breed ya- make ya all round and and- ngh full until you c-can’t take anymore. Until we hahh- have that happy ending y-you wanted.”

You mewl when he’s licking away those glistening tears rolling down your cheeks, “-happy ending w-we wanted hngh- Toru–”

“Yeah-” he chuckles. Pecking at your lips with that salty sweet taste on his tongue, “We wanted. It’s why I didn’t reincarnate like you, my love, unfinished hngh- business here s’to spend a long, long and happy marriage with you, y’know?”

You bat your lashes in sweet disbelief, “That’s- that’s mine, too.”

Ah, he reels you in even closer into his arms. Snug. Ever-loving. Seemingly like he’d never let you go ever again - couldn’t bear to. 

He nuzzles against that now-open locket, eyes peering down at those bleary paintings of you two, as loving as if they were taken just today. And in the back of his fried mind, he makes a note to take newer photos for later. Fingers tracing their familiar pathway to press down on the outer edges of the metal - in only the way he knew how, in the way that you should have been taught all those years ago, but was never able to. 

“Then-” His eyes light up as they always did whenever it came to you, when the tiny mechanisms on the locket open up to reveal a delicate, gorgeous ring. Strangely matching his own. Gojo doesn’t think he’s done anything easier in his life when he slides that ring onto your finger, fitting so perfectly. Not even when he was waiting for you, not even when he’d taken care of Naoya in a way that left his coat spattered and stained with red. “-we’re both lucky.”

It’s only after a few soft, lingering kisses that Gojo finally pulls away - like it hurt to.

And it did, sensitive shockwaves erupting down his overwhelmed length. But none of that shows above his drunken grin when Gojo’s shuffling down the bed, all the way until his hot breath was puffing up feverishly against your sloppy cunt. 

Messy. Drooling.

Making such an utter mess on his tongue when he lets it loll out, swiping up the gushing creamy dredges with a long lick. It was so filthy, dribbling down the sides of his mouth, onto his pinkish tongue-

Just a tease for more. 

“Because I keep my promises, my wife.” his murmur wraps all around your thrumming clit. Tongue swirling a milky gloss all over his pert, raw lips. Only wanting more. Waiting. “In life and in death.”

A/N. THIS- THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE N’ GOT ME IN MY FEELSSSS. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[butchlifeguard]

primrose's ch3 is GOOD btw

[goose-books]

The Ghost of Christmas Past shows up and you’re like, “Ohhhhh for fuck’s sake,” but you’re in your childhood bedroom so it’s kind of on you. The ghost seems offended. She crosses her arms. She looks like you used to, with the pigtails.

“No way,” you say. “Don’t start.”

“I am the—”

“The Ghost of Christmas Past, I know, I know.” Because she looks like you, and it’s Christmas Eve, so what else. Your parents used to read you the story every year. Even when you were old enough to read on your own, it was better in your dad’s voice.

“You came home for your parents,” the ghost says, solemn. “It’s time to tell them.”

“No, like, ‘when you’re ready’?”

“You are ready,” she says, “or you wouldn’t have come back.”

Which is so stupid, because you weren’t on the moon, you were at college, and it’s only been two months of shots, you don’t even have a mustache. “Fucking leave me alone,” you say, so she does the ghost thing and takes you to a ten-years-ago Christmas. The living room. Your parents. Your fledgling self on the carpet with your stocking, the one you can’t look at anymore because when you were a baby your parents patiently hand-stitched the fucking name.

“Maybe they’ll make you a new one,” says the ghost.

“You don’t know that.” Bullshit ghost powers.

“You were happier back then. When they knew you.”

“Everyone was happier back then. It was, like, 2008.”

“There was a recession,” says the ghost.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You turn over in bed. For a second you expect to roll onto child-self-you curled up next to you. Probably crush the life out of her. You got good at that. It’s her bed, her room, pink covers, cat posters.

“This is so stupid, this Dickens thing,” you say. “I’m not even Christian anymore.”

“Tell your parents that second,” the ghost suggests.

“Oh my fucking God I’m not telling them anything can’t you go bother Jeff Bezos.”

“I’m just doing my job,” says the ghost, and vanishes.

#

The Ghost of Christmas Present has an acne problem. As soon as you open your eyes you say, “Oh my God,” and they say, “Hi,” and you say, “You better not be the fucking Ghost of Christmas Present,” and the Ghost of Christmas Present says, “I am.”

Which you knew.

“Why me?” you say, pink comforter bunched around your waist. “I didn’t do anything. Scrooge was mean to orphans.”

The Ghost of Christmas Present shrugs. “It’s the job.”

“Are you gonna show me my parents now?”

That makes them look kind of embarrassed.

“Well, don’t,” you say. If your parents are talking in the other room, huddled up conferencing with the lights off, you can’t hear it over the heater buzz. But you can guess what they’re saying: you went to school with a shitty pixie cut and worse eyeliner, and you came back with a real haircut and a permanent frown and a bunch of new friends you play sentence Twister to avoid pronouning. “I know they’re nice people, I got it. I’m just not ready.”

“It’s just—you’re kind of waiting for them to ask?” says the Ghost of Christmas Present. They scratch their face, where they have spectral sideburns coming in. “Your dad thinks you have a head cold. ‘Cause of your voice. But your mom’s starting to get it.”

You pull the covers over your head. “Cool, awesome, didn’t ask.”

“She isn’t going to ask,” the ghost says. “She wants you to tell her.”

You stick your middle finger out from underneath the covers. When you check, the room is empty again.

#

The Ghost of Christmas Future doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you. You look back. You probably have bedhead. You fixed your daytime wardrobe but your pajamas are still lacy and purple.

“How come you’re a man?” you say.

He says, “I think you know.”

“Fucking—go away.”

“I have something to show you first.”

“Are we going to the goddamn graveyard?”

He doesn’t say anything but then you’re in the goddamn graveyard. Together. Looking at your headstone. The dates are close enough together to make you kind of sick.

“They went with the full name,” you say.

The ghost nods.

“Not even the nickname. My nice gender neutral nickname.”

The ghost shrugs. You kind of want to throw something at him but you’re just looking at it now. Chiseled in marble. Immovable. What’s that thing bigots on the internet say, about someone digging up your jawbone two hundred years from now? You always wanted to think you wouldn’t care.

The Ghost of Christmas Future’s pretty quiet. This is the part where Scrooge goes full breakdown. Tears, begging, promises.

“I’m not gonna cry on you,” you say.

“Okay.”

So neutral. “Man, what do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” says the ghost. “I think you’re there.”

You can’t stop looking at the headstone. “God fucking damnit shit. You promise they’ll be cool?”

“Nothing’s promised,” the ghost says. He gestures at the graveyard. “Except for this.”

“Awesome.” Cryptic cliche philosophical ghost bullshit. Yada yada. Death and taxes. Not with that name on your headstone, though. Not with that name on your tax forms, either.

You turn to tell him that and then you’re blinking in bed. There’s still one glow-in-the-dark star stuck to your ceiling where the glue never wore out. You put those up like ten years ago. Maybe longer. The light in the room says it’s morning. You swing your lacy-pajama legs over the side of the bed and go to ruin Christmas.

[httpsleclerc]

the story of us

pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader, Eventual Charles Leclerc x Single Mom!Verstappen!Reader

eries summary: after a traumatic childhood, y/n verstappen leaves an abusive relationship with a 6 month old baby in tow, with her brother trying to discreetly matchmake her with a certain Monegasque.

warnings: DEPICTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE, BABY TRAPPING, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ANGST!!

word count: 2.4k words

a/n: praying this shit does not flop I put my heart and soul into this one - also ! This one is mostly just backstory!

the first time you ever met Charles Leclerc, you were 9 years old, sporting a poorly hidden bruise under your eye which your so called father had given you for 'talking back' after he had yelled at you for Max losing. You didn't understand that, why was it your problem if Max lost - although he didn't really lose, as such, he came second or third, but in your dad's opinion? They were the first to lose. You had wandered off from your father, claiming that you needed to get yourself a drink of water, but you knew that Max had just came second, Charles had beaten him and you could already see how mad your dad was going to be, you'd seen his grip tightening on the barrier, his face growing more and more red as Max fell further and further behind the young Monegasque. 

"And Charles Leclerc of Monaco is our winner for today, congratulations Charles!"

Your heart ached at the announcement, as now it was confirmed what awaited you when you got home. You sighed, taking the last gulp of your water as you made your way back to the small podium area, seeing who you assumed to be Charles' family cheering him on after winning - You frowned at the very thought of a loving and functional family, you knew that your mother loved you, but she didn't by any means particularly like you, it didn't seem like anyone did, since you only apparently existed as your fathers punching bag and your mom was only interested in you when it was her weekend with you and Max. Spotting your father, you weaved your way through the crowd, your heartbeat increasing as you silently stood beside him, quietly praying that if you were quiet enough, he might not sense your presence and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be punished for your brother coming second.

Looking down at his father from the 2nd place spot on the small podium set-up, Max frowned as he looked at Jos and then to you - He was 13, yet somehow understood that this, him coming second, would somehow be your fault, and you would be the one to take the beating from Jos. It was cruel, but it was all you and Max had known, since your mother had taken only your older sister and not you - Max had guessed you had been getting punished since Jos assumed if Max had to watch you suffer the consequences of you losing, then it would make him perform better. In some way, maybe it did - But maybe it just scared Max that one day his father would take it too far, and instead of icing bruises under your eye, he would be calling the police.

From his spot on the podium, he flinched slightly as he saw your father harshly grab your wrist, dragging you through the crowd and away to the car - Max would know to hang back for a bit, he had seen Jos hit you enough to know that it would just end in him feeling such overwhelming guilt for not winning and therefore stopping anything from happening to you.

However

Jos' beatings of you had not gone unnoticed, as the young Monegasque winner of the day had made his way to his families car, his two brothers and parents already inside, he found you, sitting on the wet grass beside your fathers car, shivering and sobbing.

"Um...are you okay?" He asked you awkwardly, unsure of how to either help or console you. When you looked up at him, he immediately recognised you - You were Max's sister, it was obvious, since you two were sometimes mistaken for twins despite having a 4 year age gap. You sniffled and nodded - Which Charles knew to be a lie, the make up which attempted to cover a barely healed bruise under your eye had worn off, and a new bruise under your other eye, along with a cut on your cheek and a busted lip proved that you had taken yet another beating from your father. He frowned, he had only heard rumours that Jos Verstappen was...unhinged - But he had never thought them to be true in this way, despite being the same age as your brother, Charles knew that you were a defenceless child, and so was Max - Yet everyone was too fearful of Jos to help either of you.

"Charles, let's go!" He stammered, looking between you and his older brother, impatient to get home and out of the wet. You hadn't said a word to him, only silently begging him to please, tell someone, about what your father was doing to you and your brother - At this point, you would take living with your mom, even if it meant your existence was ignored, anything would be better than this.

"I have to go, but I hope to see you again soon," Charles offered you a genuine smile, waving back at you as he walked to his family car, shutting the door and staring off at you as they left the track.

You sighed sadly as you dropped your head between your knees once more - You knew that this was only a part of what awaited you when you got home, but some part of you hoped that he would make you walk home, so you could take as long as you liked, and maybe by the time you got home, he would forget about the brutality he had planned out for you as soon as you walked through the doors.

Like that ever happened.

13 Years Later

You had apparently never escaped your dad.

Put better, you had never escaped men like your dad.

Thanks to the way you had been raised and how you had been treated by the man who was supposed to show you how you should expect to be treated by a man, you had ended up with a string of awful boyfriends, who in the end, received a very verbal and intensive warning from your older brother. Most of them ran away with their tails between their legs at the mention of Max's name.

But one had stuck around longer than the others, going as far to get you pregnant with your daughter, Romy. Max had been convinced you were ready to leave him until he baby trapped you, he knew that would send you running back to him, with the hopes of having the happy family you never got to have yourself. He had been fine with you the entire time you were pregnant, even managing to almost convince Max that he had changed, and that he was ready to look after you and your daughter.

Lukas was different, you told Max. You told him that Lukas looked after you and your unborn child, especially after finding out that you were carrying a baby girl. You told Max that he doted on you, talking to your bump like Romy could hear him, which he argued that she could, since she kicked at the sound of his voice.

And for a while, Max was convinced that Lukas had changed, he had changed his mind on the idea that you had been baby trapped and that maybe it had purely been an unplanned pregnancy.

How wrong he was.

After the birth of Romy, everything went back to normal - You weren't allowed to talk to your brother, you could only go out when he let you, Victoria and Max weren't allowed to come and visit their niece, you weren't allowed to have your phone. It was around 6 months after having Romy when you realised that you had to leave, you couldn't bring your baby girl up like this, and have her turn out like you? Absolutely not.

You wanted your girl to have a chance in this world, you wanted to break the cycle.

So that's what you did.

During the night, while you had Romy settled after her feed and your boyfriend was asleep, you slipped out onto the balcony, your phone in your shaking hands as you dialled Max's number, praying that he would either be awake normally or on streaming.

"Hold on guys, I don't know who is calling...me," Max's joking demeanour dropped as he saw your face flash across the screen. He hadn't heard from you since you stopped returning his calls after you had Romy six months ago. Abruptly, Max ended his stream. "Y/N?"

"Max?" He could tell that you were close to tears, if not already crying. "I'm leaving name but I'm scared to because h-he's been drinking and I don't know if he wakes up i-if he'll hurt me or Romy. I don't care what he does to me, I just don't want him to hurt her." You cried to your brother, nervously peering into your bedroom through the curtains to make sure that the two of them were still asleep - If Romy so much as stirred, then it was game over.

Max was astounded.

Of course, he was going to help you, he was your big brother, how could he not? But you calling 6 months after you last spoke to tell him you were ready to leave, he could have cried in relief.

"Okay, do what you can quietly, I'll come over and make sure that you and Romy can get away safely," Max proposed to you, he knew this was a big, monumental step for you, you needed him to be there for you, now more than ever. "We've got a spare room here, I'll ask Kelly if she by some chance has even an old cot of P's that Romy can sleep in for the night." You sniffled and nodded, even though Max couldn't see the gesture.

"Thank you Maxie, I love you," Tears sprung to your older brother's eyes, he couldn't imagine how much you had been through, the fear of your boyfriend harming your baby must have been a constant forefront on your mind, you must have been exhausted.

"I love you too, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

You hung up, sighing in relief as you realised that you had taken the hardest step of your life - Yes, you were leaving your abusive boyfriend, but you were also leaving your daughter's father. Moving as quietly as you could, you buckled your sleeping baby into her car seat - Thinking if Kelly didn't have anything; which would be fine; then you could have Romy sleep in her car seat. You packed a small bag for her and yourself - If you needed anything else, you could pick it up when you needed it, as far as you were concerned right now, you and Romy just needed out of here.

the next morning when you woke up, the night before felt like a blur. You swore you were high on adrenaline, and now you were on a huge comedown. You turned on your side, reaching to hold your babies hand, smiling gently as you now realised that you wouldn't have to face seeing (Name) when you went out of this room. You sat up as Romy stirred, reaching out to lift her from the next to me bed that Kelly had put beside the bed in the spare room.

"Shshsh, it's okay, my love, mama's got you," You rocked Romy, pushing her small tuft of her hair out of her face as she fussed before latching to you.

"Mommy, I want to see auntie Y/N's baby!" You smiled, hearing Penelope being so excited to meet Romy, even though she would have to wait a while to be able to play with her. 

"I know, but you need to wait until they wake up," Kelly tried to reason with the young girl, who pouted and crossed her arms and turned to Max, as if he was going to risk going in and waking a sleeping baby.

"Maxie!" Penelope whined, pouting as Max and Kelly chuckled at her behaviour. They both looked up as the door to the spare room opened, you holding Romy at your hip. "Mommy look!" Penelope pointed at your daughter excitedly. "Can I hold her auntie Y/N?! Please, please please?!" You chuckled and smiled down at Penelope.

"Maybe not right now P, she just had a really big breakfast and I wouldn't want her to throw up all over your nice pyjamas," You reasoned with the small girl, smiling as she nodded in understanding. "I promise that you can hold her later."

"Yay!" Satisfied with your answer, Penelope ran back to her toys, occupied with whatever new toy Max or Kelly had bought for her. You smiled as you continued patting Romy's back, hearing her coo and try to wiggle towards her uncle Max.

"Aww, she wants me," Max cooed at her, taking her from your arms and holding her the way you previously did. "She's so cute, almost makes you want another, Kelly?" 

"In your dreams, Max Emillian," You laughed at the two of them, you knew that Max was a great bonus dad for Penelope, he was the opposite of Jos - Which was still a pretty low bar. "How old is she Y/N?" 

"She's almost 7 months, which is crazy for me, she was my tiny little baby and now she's starting to crawl," You told Kelly, holding your arms out to your brother as Romy started fussing in his arms, reaching out to you. "Anyway um...thank you, both, for last night. Lukas text me this morning, he doesn't want us back, left all our stuff in the lobby of the apartment which is fine cause I need to go back for my car anyway." 

"Don't be silly, I'll go get it, you don't need to go back there. And anyway, there's someone you're spending the day with to get back into socialising - He's great with kids too, so you can take Romy with you." Max told you, watching as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"What? Who is it?"

"Do you remember the whiny one from Monaco that had the inchident? Him, he got broken up with and he's been depressed so I thought you two could be friends."

[servicpop]

family trip adrien ( deliquent oc ) x bttm m reader

ⓘ established relationship au

Through the excessive amount of visiting each other's houses almost everyday of the week, it was only natural that your families would grow close.

It wasn't a surprise when you received a pretty little invitation by Adrien to come join him and his family on a small trip to the coast. Since you had nothing better to do that weekend, you gladly accepted. Adrien brought up his family's van and offered you a ride in which you also agreed.

You never thought to ask Adrien about his family, assuming it was a topic he didn't particularly like as he never talked about them anyways. So seeing two little girls and a young boy that were the splitting image of Adrien if not his parents. They were a rather rowdy bunch as Adrien's mother rounded up the little troublemakers into the 2nd row of the van while her husband was busy packing things into the trunk.

“Why didn't you tell me you had siblings? And so many,” You question, turning to Adrien who seemed to be on his last straw trying to get his siblings to calm down.

“Didn't think I seemed like an only child,” he quipped.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes when Adrien's mother walks up to you. She's gorgeous, straight nut brown hair, short and slim like a doe. It's strikingly different from Adrien's rough appearance.

“Oh dear, it seems like there's only one chair left,” Mrs Castillo's voice is like a hydrating balm to the soul as she places a hand on her cheek.

You open your mouth to propose a solution — as the responsible person you are — but you're acutely cut off by prince charming himself.

“He can sit on my lap, no problem.” You can see the relieved expression Adrien's mother carries before she walks off into the passenger's side of the van, leaving you absolutely speechless.

“Since when did I agree to that?” You sigh, but it's ultimately the only solution you can think of on the spot.

Adrien slips into the back seat first, getting himself comfortable before patting his thighs. There's a sour expression on your face as you climb in, settling yourself on Adrien's lap. He slips on the seatbelt from behind you and slides his arms around your waist, holding you close.

“Don't worry, I'll be your seatbelt.”

“I wasn't worrying.”

The ride was anything but smooth. You were profoundly aware of every single movement Adrien made underneath you, the soft thumping of his heart rattled against his chest every time you leaned back to rest.

Not to mention his demon-like siblings turning around to ask you bizarre questions.

“Did Adrien kidnap you?” “Do you think you can do a cartwheel and then the splits because I can.” “How much money did he pay you to be here?”

You couldn't even answer one question before another was interjected. Even Adrien seemed annoyed by this constant noise.

“Stop bothering him,” His tone caught you off-guard; it was harsh and grounded like he truly meant it. It didn't seem like the kids understood the message until Adrien swatted at them to turn around.

He sighed, leaning back into the car seat, pulling you down with him.

“They can be a damn handful sometimes,” He exhaled, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

The soft gesture, the heat radiating off his face to your shoulder, and his forearms locked tightly around your waist made something in your heart ache ever so slightly. Your fingers hesitantly move to rest on Adrien's arm, patting it gently like you're consoling him.

A few more hours pass by and the kids have already fallen asleep, not a sign of liveliness from the three. Your own eyelids start to grow heavy until the van drives over a rather large speed bump. From the scratchy sound of tires crunching along gravel, you can pretty much assume that the road is going to be filled with dents and bumps.

A barely audible groan comes out from Adrien's throat and you freeze up. Did you hurt him? Your movements are cautious as you turn your torso to look back at him, trying not to move so much so you don't hurt him further.

“Shit, are you okay?” Your eyes narrow and your nose crinkles in concern, Adrien has his head lowered before he lifts it up to meet your gaze.

The hands planted firmly around your body tighten and he pulls you back up against him.

“Just— Stay still,” he grunts out, forehead returning back to your shoulder.

You shuffle just back to get comfortable just enough that you practically grind against the tent growing in Adrien's pants. It takes you a moment to realize what was happening. A small gasp escapes your lips as you grip the flesh on his arm, keeping your head dipped.

The van drives over another bump and you feel it now. Adrien's hand clasps around your shoulder blade and he muffles a strangled grunt again. Your body grows hotter by the second, heat pooling in your lower half.

Now you were both hard.

“Ah shit, prez, you're gonna kill me,” He lets out a dry chuckle, hips twitching from underneath you. You crave it just as bad as you're rocking your body against his in a steady pace. There were too many people in the van, it was way too dangerous to fix the little problem.

“Wait it out,” You whisper, patting his arm once more like trying to calm down a dog.

He doesn't respond, instead, he grumbles into your shoulder.

The van finally comes to a stop. The engine whirrs off and the kids are hustled out of the doors before you and Adrien climb out behind them. There's a satisfying crackle and pop of your joints as you stretch, letting the good ol' sunlight kiss your deprived skin.

Getting the bags out of the trunk wasn't much work since you packed only for 3 days so you rolled your suitcase into the lobby alongside Adrien's family. A small notification pops up on your screen, a check-in from your family which you happily reply to.

Since it was such a large gathering, the family had split into different rooms with you and Adrien sharing one.

The reception hands Adrien's mother the keycard to each room and she hands them out, passing one to Adrien.

You turn your attention to him to see the guy already racing his way towards you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you past his family. You can hear a brief exchange of words between him and his dad, picking up on the lousy excuse that you're 'tired.'

Through the lobby, past the pools, around the bar and to your shared room. Adrien smashes the key card against the reader and he slams the door open.

“Fucking finally,” he sighs, shutting the door behind himself and burying his hands into the back of your head. He's tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling it back before latching his mouth onto yours.

He's practically welding himself to you, devouring your lips in a heated kiss. He pulls back to look into your eyes before he goes in for a second serving. Adrien guides you towards the bedroom, lips never leaving yours as he gently pushes you back onto the bed.

“You know how hard it was to keep myself in line?” Adrien chuckled against your cheek, his hands beginning to descend your body, tracing all the way down to the waistband of your pants.

“That's your job baby, not mine.”

You have half the heart to complain when he's pulling off your pants, lifting your hips off the bed to help him slide your clothes off. He pulls both your legs up and over his shoulders before kneeling onto the ground beside the bed.

“Adrien,” you call out his name almost breathlessly, fingers finding purchase in his thick hair.

He responds with a small hum that causes his throat to vibrate ever so slightly. Adrien's hands are coiled around your thighs, palms laying flat on your lower stomach as he leans in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips tickle your skin and you can't help but jerk your leg from the sensation—which you're prevented from doing so by his arms holding your legs hostage.

Warmth envelops your lower half as Adrien wraps his mouth around your cock. His breath is hot against your trembling skin and he forces the most obscene noises out his throat. Slick slurping sounds mixed with groans and sighs like he's been starved a hearty meal.

The hand on your stomach slides up, pushing your shirt further so he could feel the flat plane of your torso. Your squirms and thigh twitches are held down by his built arms—it honestly seems like he trains just for this.

“Could do this for days.” its hard to tell what he's saying since all his words and muffled and gurgled.

He pulls off for one second to fish out lubricant from the hotel drawers, applying a hefty amount to his fingers before returning back to you.

Sliding back down to his knees, he prods a finger to your winking hole, teasing and pushing past that ring of muscle and pulling it back out just to watch it shiver from the loss.

“Pervert,” You grumble under your breath.

“Who's the one who asked me out?”

You shoot Adrien an irked glare but the annoyance fades from your face the moment he wraps his mouth around your dick once more. Your eyes flutter as he finally pushes that finger in, sliding in a second to slowly scissor you loose.

He's more skilled than you with his tongue and you can't help but wonder what his past experiences were like; you dismiss that thought as quick as it came.

You look down at him from half-closed eyes, watching as he hollows his cheeks to take in more. You're practically whining and thrashing around in his grip. He's buried his face to the hilt, nose brushing against your pelvic bone. Its almost a ticklish sensation, feeling him breathe against your skin.

His fingers press and pressure your walls, pushing them apart to ready you for his cock. He's rhythmically pushing his fingers deeper, curling at the apex before pulling them back, repeating that process in a steady pace. You can feel them hit your prostate, sending jolts straight to your dick.

It's too much for you to handle; your hips are rising to meet the bob of his head, back arching off the satin white sheets.

“Wait— Adrien pull off I don't want you to—” Your words are all diced up, spoken in short gasps as you try to pry his head off from your aching cock.

You succeed—for a bit—before he's dipping all the way down again, holding your hips steady as he forces you down his throat. He's fucking loving it too, moaning with your dick in his mouth as his fingers speed up, pistioning two fingers into your hole.

Your hips raise even more and he encourages it.

His name comes spilling out of your mouth like a mantra as your muscles spasm from the intensity of your orgasm. Adrien keeps sucking like he's trying to wring every last drop from you. You feel his tongue swirl over your slit, lapping up your sweet fluids.

He slides himself off of you, letting you rest on the bed for a bit as he tilts his head back. His Adam's apple bobs while he swallows, and he lowers his head back down to smile at you.

“Don't tell me you're tired already, I haven't even taken off my pants yet,” he tsks at you, shaking his head disapprovingly while he joins you on the bed. You're still dazed from how hard you just came but a warm hand pulls you back down to earth.

Adrien's hand grazes over your cheek delicately as he hovers over you, caging you in with two arms on either side of your head.

“Just relax prez, I'll do all the work, 'kay?” He takes your little grunt as an 'okay,' rolling you onto your stomach and guiding your head to rest on the pillow. It smells so distinctly of freshly cleaned hotel sheets with a hint of citrus and bleach that you take a moment to close your eyes and enjoy the scent.

You can feel the mattress dip on either sides of your hips as he plants his knees there. He leans his head down to peek at your blissed-out face, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. You can feel his hands run down the curve of your spine, running over your lower back before he settles them on your waist.

“Are you relaxed?” He hums, leisurely rolling his hips against you. His tone is so sultry it causes your muscles to visibly relax under the siren call of his voice.

A hand moves down to where your leg meets the curve of your ass, parting the round flesh for him to comfortably slide in. He had stretched you out enough that it slipped in with ease, hugged by your warm velvet walls.

He sucks in air between his teeth while he steadily rocks his body back and forth, tuning into the wet squelching sound with each thrust.

“Feel it yet?” He chuckles, poking fun at the fact that you've been too dazed to respond to him. You nod against the pillow, your hair spilling over the silk case like spilt water. A small, shaky exhale leaves your nose as he begins to hasten his thrusts. It's almost bruising as he slams himself against your tailbone—you know you'll be whining about the soreness tomorrow morning.

Your voice gradually gets louder as he pounds you into the bed, fingers curled up in the sheets as he slams his pelvis against your ass. You can feel him throb from inside you, twitching and ready.

A particularly deep thrust has you crying out into the pillow but you can't squirm, not when Adrien is pinning you down with his body weight. He's pushing against your prostate over and over again and you can feel that familiar feeling of an orgasm creeping up on you.

“Fuck, Adrien,” You hiccup, muffled by the fluff of the pillow, eyes flickering like you're struggling to keep them open.

“Yeah baby?” You can hear the smirk in his tone as he keeps at the rough pace. He's hitting all the right spots and your dick appreciates. You feel a hand dip under your neck, cupping the curve of your throat as Adrien lifts your head up to face him.

He moves in to kiss you, soft and gentle as he wraps his arms around your whole body, holding you in a tight grip while continuously slamming himself deeper into you. Your loud cries and moans are enveloped by Adrien's mouth, swallowed up.

“You gonna cum? Feels so good you just can't hold it in?” He cooes, chuckling against your swollen lips as he feels you tremble underneath him. You swear stars enter your vision and your eyes roll back, muscles jerking and tensing as you let out a string of whimpers while your orgasm comes crashing onto you.

Adrien buries himself to the hilt before emptying out all he's worth, coating your insides with his dna. He groans as he pulls out halfway just to watch his semen flood out of your hole, still tightly clenched around his cock.

He sits up, raking his fingers through his tousled hair and sighs with satisfaction like drinking an ice cold soda in a hot summer day.

“You tired prez?” He asks, smiling down at you. His eyes narrow and concern settles in when you don't move or answer him.

“Baby?” He quickly leans back down to look at your face only to see your peaceful expression, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. He lets out a relieved chuckle before pulling out, sliding off the bed to grab a towel.

He figured he'd get you some fruit to replenish your energy, pulling on some of his clothes after cleaning you up and getting you comfortable in the bed. He makes his way to the buffet, piling all favorite fruits and sweets onto his plate before he spots his family.

“Where's your boyfriend?” Adrien's mother asks, also holding a plate of food. Seemed like the two of you missed lunch.

“He's uh—” Adrien tenses knowing that he can't just openly admit to his mother that he fucked the daylights out of you.

“Taking a nap.”

[thundersoothers]

spike, the dog (still derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: continuation of this fic and this thought about john price being a softie for his wife and the dog you found on the side of the road (y’all LOVEDDDDD this, thank u omg)

word count: 0.9k

“We are not naming the fucking dog Gremlin.”

“Pooh Bear.” 

“No.” 

You and John are sitting in the living room, staring at the dog you picked up from the side of the road a few days ago, trying to come up with a name for him.  

Convincing your husband to let you keep the dog was a challenge.  It felt like you were debating with judge, jury, and executioner.  Stakes were high.  He was sitting across from you at the dining room table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.  His eyes were narrowed at you and his face was expressionless, giving nothing away as you plead your case. 

Somehow, you won. 

So now, here you both are, brainstorming names to replace “Puppy”.  You’re holding the dog in your arms on the couch and John is sitting across from you in his chair. 

“And where the hell did you come up with these names?” 

“I have a list.” 

“You have a list?” 

“I have a list,” you say, “of dog names and baby names.  Every girl does.” 

And then, for just a second, the room stills. 

“Baby names?” John asks. 

A shiver runs up the bottom of your spine and you sit up a little straighter.  You feel the air buzz and John’s heavy gaze on you. 

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at John and then back at the dog in your lap.  “But—Pooh Bear?” 

After a long second, he says, “No.”

“Georgie Banks.” 

“The actress?” 

“Wha— no, fucker, Georgie Banks from Mary Poppins.” 

“… I’ll consider it.  What else.” 

“Ja’Marcus.” 

“My love,�� he says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together, looking at you seriously.  “What the fuck are you talking about.  It’s a dog.” 

“Tra’davious.” 

“I’m making a list,” he scoffs, sitting back again.  “Jesus.” 

“It’s a nice name!” you exclaim.  “What are you gonna name him, Scout?” 

He looks at you.  

You look at him. 

“No.”  Your face drops and you almost shudder.  “No, John, that’s not even funny.” 

“Oreo?”  The corner of his mouth twitches but he quickly steels himself. 

“Stop.”  You hold the dog close to your chest, horrified. 

“Rocky?” 

“No!” 

“Buddy?” 

“John.” 

“We could just call him Puppy.” 

“What is this, Bird Box?  When Sandra Bullock named her kids Boy and Girl?  We can’t just name the dog Dog.  We would sound like neglectful parents.” 

“Your friend has a dog named Cat,” John says. 

“And that gets confusing because she just got a cat.  I think she’ll have to rename Cat.  And by Cat I mean the dog.  Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head, eyebrows furrowed.  What a mess that would be. 

“We could name him after your team…?” you say, the idea popping into your head.  Then, you frown.  “I’m not calling him Kyle, though.  That’s too human.  Ghost?  He is—you know.”  You rub over the dog’s mangey back gently.  “A little ghastly, still.” 

“Riley?” 

“Who’s Riley?” 

“No one.”

You eye him.  “Must be one of your other wives…” 

He ignores you.  “It would inflate their egos too much.  They’re already insufferable enough.  And,” he adds, “they don’t need another reason to suck up to you.” 

“They don’t suck up to me,” you say. 

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “They suck up to you.” 

“A pun with Price?  Uhhhh… High?  Low?  Buy one get one?  Bogo?”  You hold up the dog, as if to present him.  “Bogo Price, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Price?” 

“You think you’re funny,” John says. 

“I think I’m hilarious.” 

“How about Mackie?  For Mack?  Soap’ld love that–Scottish for ‘my son’.” 

“… I’ll consider it.” 

“You did find him near Notting Hill.  Maybe Notting?” 

You shudder.  “No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Knotting.  It’s a—I’ll explain it to you later.”  

(By later you mean never.  Explaining A/B/O to your husband who doesn’t have any social media?  And has never heard of the website Ao3?  He’d have an aneurysm and then wonder why you know about it.  And you cannot have that conversation.) 

“What are the characters from Notting Hill again?” he says, scratching his chin. He needs to shave—well. You need to shave him, rather. “We just watched it.  William Thacker, Anna Scott, uh, her shit husband, what’s his name—“ 

“Jeff King.” 

“Jeff King, yeah.  King, maybe?” 

“Look at him, John.”  You turn the dog to face him.  He wiggles in your hands and yips, his tongue falling out of his mouth.  “He’s not a King.” 

He sighs and shakes his head.  “He’s not a King.” 

“What about William’s weird roommate?  Uh, Spike?” 

“Spike,” John repeats slowly. 

You nod.  “Spike.” 

You both focus on the dog. 

“I like Spike,” you say. 

“I like Spike, too.” 

You hum, considering this.  “Spike…”  You narrow your eyes and study the dog closely, holding him tighter in your hands. 

He yawns with a high-pitched whine and then hacks.  

“Jesus,” John mutters, shaking his head. 

“Better than Georgie, Banks, or Mackie?” 

“Yeah,” John says, “look at ‘im.  He’s a Spike.” 

“He’s such a Spike,” you muse.  “He’s gonna be huge, too.  I mean, look at his ears and paws–they’re already too big for him.  Shit, he’s probably gonna be 70 pounds or 30 kilos.” 

“We need to train him.” 

“Yeah.  I can hire a trainer?  Find one online.” 

“I could get a trainer from base.” 

“I do NOT want an army dog.” 

“It wouldn’t be an army dog.  It would be a dog trained by the army.” 

You eye him.  “John.” 

“Love.” 

You sigh.  “Fine.”

“Good girl.”

note: prob gonna make wife!reader and spike a universe/series bc i loveeeee them. I hope you enjoy!!!!

posted 01.02.2025.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I found and read this cute story on AO3, about Frostbite being Danny's legal parental guardian. In the story Bruce Wayne runs into Frostbite (in his full yeti glory no disguise) who is setting up for school bake sale. Got me thinking about what if Danny's past rogues took turns filling in and doing parental stuff especially at school functions. Like Frostbite does the bake sale, Pandora shows up for his games, Ghostwriter goes to all of the PTA meetings, Clockwork goes to teacher meetings, so on and so forth.

The 43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale by Faeriekit

Ohhh, that sounds good! I'll get it a read when I have some time. Thank you for the rec!

Danny Fenton is one of the lucky few who have a very involved household. His various family members would always sign up for any school event the boy needed support in. It didn't mean that the boy won everything, but as a teacher for nine years, Emily has come to learn how much it mattered to just have someone show up.

She had seen students whose entire faces light up after spotting someone in the crowd in the same amount she saw a student's hope crumble after they scanned the room.

Danny was a polite young man, a bit on the shyer side, but kind and not a troublemaker, his previous school had her believe. If anything, he seemed to struggle with fitting in, but no students blatantly disliked him.

The general opinion of Danny matched, as her students would say, "I know him from class, but I don't really talk to him. He seems cool though".

Maybe that's why so many people were supposed by his family to march into the auditorium during Danny's talent show. Seeing him wave at the row before starting his gymnastic act had been such a surprise.

Now, Gotham wasn't a close-knit community, not with the size of their city and the millions of people living within it, but everyone would have noticed that Danny was adopted.

After all, he was the only one that wasn't glowing or a large humanoid animal. They cheered the loudest among the crowd; uncaring Danny got bronze- having lost to Joey's tapping dancing for second and Damian's spectacular multi-instrumental cover of a meme song for first place- and Danny beamed back at them.

Gotham was known for not being meta-friendly, but that was only due to a few mean people who shouted the loudest on media outlets. Many of Emily's students were meta, had family that were meta, or knew someone meta. It wasn't a common enough trait one would encounter a meta on every outing, but you would see them in Gotham well enough.

Everyone knew, but no one said it out loud. In the same way, she knew which students' parents were in the country illegally but worked harder than anyone else. Saying anything would help the cops, or worse, the rich running Gotham.

Even the most prejudiced Gothamite would rather be spat on then give them aid. And those who were so prejudiced to help the poor man's enemies, well, Emily has lived here long enough to know they vanished rather quickly. The smart ones kept their mouths shut.

No one could forget what happened to that guy who accidentally insulted Penguin. His grandmother had been an illegal immigrant on his mother's side.

No one messed with that side of the family.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson." Danny's adoptive father, Dr. Frostbite said, ducking down to avoid banging his head on the door. On one of his shoulders was a box of hotdog wieners; on the other were multiple bags of bread. "I'm here for my snack bar shift."

Emily tilts her head back to look the Yeti in the eye. He had been shocked the first time they met, but she could admit that Dr. Frostbite was a relatively gentle and wise soul. "Welcome aboard. The girls are just about to take the field. You can put that down by the crock pot over there."

The mountain of white fur brushes by her with the grace of a king as Dr. Frostbite does as she says. There were no customers at the window, so she leaned on the counter and offered him a smile. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Yes. I was saddened our team did not win, but Danny hit a home run." Dr. Frostbite's sharp smile could have been frightening if he wasn't oozing parental pride. "I caught it all on video."

Emily opens her mouth to respond when a hand lands loudly on the counter with a loud crack. Her heart leaps, and she looks into Danny's Ember. She isn't one of Emily's students, though she does appear to be a teenager in appearance.

You know. If it wasn't for her hair made of fire. Or her blue skin. Or her glow.

"I set a boy on fire," She announces with a cackle.

"That's so?" Dr. Frostbite gently rips open the box, taking out the hotdog packages. With one large claw, he rips a hole into it and lets the few weiners slide into the crockpot with a gentle splash. "What did he do?"

"Tried to slap me on the butt." She huffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk doesn't lose an edge of smugness.

"Well done." Dr. Frostbite praises placing the lid back on. It always surprised Emily to see such careful actions from the large creature. "I assume you did so out of Pandora's line of sight?"

"Naturally. I don't want her lecturing me in front of the whole community." Ember scoffs, crossing her arms. Behind her, the top of Pandora's head can be seen swinging side to side over the dugout, keeping an eye on the ball.

She was the best volunteer referee because even the parents knew not to shout insulting things when she was present. Emily doesn't think she has had such peaceful games in a long while. Hopefully, Danny will try out again for baseball next year so the woman can return.

"Oh hey, you're Danny's English teacher, right? Mrs. Johnson?" Ember asks, leaning on the counter to give Emily a curious look.

When the blond nods, holding out her hand for a shake. "That's right. It's nice to see you again, Ember."

The girl's hair flairs a little as a grin grows on her face. Her hand is ice cold to the touch, but she's got a firm grip that her husband would appreciate. "Likewise. I got a message for you from Ghostwriter. He sent the notes for the last PTA meeting to you and the revision playwright for the musical you two were working on."

Emily's mood brightens up. "That's wonderful. Could you tell him I'll check it out when I get home and get to my laptop since my phone broke in the last Two-Face attack?"

Ember's hair flickers in the wind when she nods, but Danny bounces right up behind her just as she opens her mouth to speak. He's wearing his Gotham Acadamy Baseball uniform with pride despite them losing. "Hey, Frostbite, can I go with Tim and Duke to get Peoeria Pizza? We'll be back before the girl's game ends."

"Only if you take Ember with you," Dr.Frostbite says, nodding to his daughter, who looks alarmed to be included. "She needs more friends."

"Hey!"

"Sure. Come on, Ember, you'll get along with Duke. He likes old-school rock."

"It's not old-school!"

Emily laughs, watching the two siblings bicker as they stride away, blending into the crowd with no one batting an eye at the glowing girl anymore. How blessed that boy was.

"I'm glad Danny has gotten comfortable here. I always worried he never was going to have a normal childhood." Dr. Frostbite confesses to swirling the hotdogs around in the water to ensure each one is cooked.

"I think you and the rest are doing a wonderful job. You're a great father." She assures him, thinking wistfully of her William. He's been on deployment for a few months now and will likely miss the holidays again, but his contract is almost up. They may try for a child when he gets in the reserves. "How are things at the clinic?"

"Oh, wonderful. I'm grateful that Mr. Wayne has allowed the expansion of Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic. Dr. Thompkins will be covering the east side of Gotham while I help those on the west. It's much more fulfilling than working in some hospital that demands funds for the silliest things. Back home, that would have been illegal. The people would have burned me at the stake if I had allowed anyone to pass away due to greed."

"My kind of people." She laughs. A sharp crack sounds from the field as the bat makes contact with the ball, and the crowd goes wild. It's a wonderful day.