#this was a gift from a dear friend and i owe them my fucking life

[yuri-goth]

New fursona warning :3 (art by @fetalstar)

[onskepa]

I don't think I've asked for angst yet.... so, Can I get Lo'ak x (dying)female reader

where the reader gets shot instead of Neteyam. I Dunno, maybe she got in front of Neteyam or tackled him and that's why she got shot instead of him?

And-

I just realized what would make this sadder is that Lo'ak confessed to the reader as she is dying-

Why do I do this to myself?- T^T

Hi! sorry this took a bit, I had to mentally prepare myself for the angst I was getting myself into. A FUCK! I cried a bit. So if this makes you cry then I did my job. Enjoy!

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Tirey

Fire. Explosions. Smoke. Screams. Death.

There was supposed to be peace. There was to be joy, happiness, blissfulness, laughter, and happy moments. Life was to be full of gifts and great moments, learn and grow and thrive. But no. Never again. And never again will things be the same.

Once again the RDA returned. And again they come with their tools and weapons to destroy another planet, another life.

Lo'ak has seen many things in his life, both good and bad. But he tries to make the most of what he has, and honest to Eywa, tries to be more than what he is seen as.

So when the RDA captured spider and his siblings. He knew what had to be done. But like everything else, things never go as he wanted.

It all happened so fast...Why wasn't he faster? Why did he jump first?

Tsireya, tuk and himself were saved by neteyam, payakan and his dear friend human friend Tirey. Both were quick to cut the binds that held them at one spot.

"come on, who's the might warrior?" tirey would teasingly ask him as she cuts his binds. Trying to make light from the situation they were in. He rolled his eyes but his alarms were ringing high. After cutting his binds, she was quick for tsireya and soon everyone was free.

"come on! lets go lets go!" neteyam says, quickly shoving everyone to go overboard. Tuk and tisreya jumped to find kiri, ao'nung and rotxo ready to help them. Tirey grabbed lo'ak's hand ready to jump with him when he halted, suddenly remembering.

"we have to get spider! we have to get him!" lo'ak says as he grabs a gun from one of the dead humans. Neteyam and tirey shared a look. They knew it be a risky thing but spider was their friend. "We better make this quick" neteyam says. The three grabbed weapons as means to arm themselves in search of spider. Slipping through the pipes and hiding behind big machines, climbing on hanging machines, they managed to find spider. But he wasn't alone.

With a quick ambush, the three jumped down and knocked out the men that surrounded spider. Spider catches on and fought the humans back. Tirey knocked a man down but her strength wasn't enough, the man turned to grab his gun but lo'ak was quick and shot him dead.

Just when things calmed down, spider spot Quaritch. "we gotta go now!" he said urgently. Tirey saw him and tried to shoot but lo'ak held her gun down and pushed them to run, ducking quaritch's bullets. "AT LEAST ONE BULLET!" tirey argued, "another time!" lo'ak replies as they make haste. Having to drop down their guns.

"thanks for saving me!" spider says as they run. Tirey huffs a bit, forming a smile, "you OWE us big time spider!". The charm of Tirey. Always makes things positive in a moment of danger. A method to calm herself and others down. But only that can last.

Lo'ak and tirey smiled. Getting near the edge. Yes! It's almost over! They will go back to the island, get treated, probably have a long lecture from their parents, eat the best fish, and cuddle and have a nice sleep. Everything will be fine. Everything will be as it was. And lo'ak can finally tell what he wanted to say to tirey and they would-

"NETEYAM MOVE!" screamed tirey as they all fell down to the ocean.

All swam up, cheering at their escape. But one wasnt.

"ow!! ow! I got shot!!" winced tirey in pain. Trying to keep herself up float. Hearing that made lo'ak's heart stop. No no no! She couldn't have been shot!

But seeing red surround her, they had to act quick. Tsireya was there in time with an ilu, lo'ak and neteyam helped tirey get on, lo'ak taking control of the ilu with neyetam in the back holding tirey as she bleeds.

"your sisters are still up there!" tsirey said, neteyam looked back at the ship, heart broke of the choice. "We cant go back! we have to go!" spider and tsireya hold on to the ilu as the made it to a giant rock.

Lo'ak gently placed tirey down as she was breathing weakly, trying to keep herself awake. Feeling panicked, he didn't know what to do. Neteyam had to react quick, seeing the wound bleeding close to her heart, lifting her up to see the back. Doing how his father taught him.

Neteyam felt dread. She isn't going to make it. "pressure! put pressure!!" he guided lo'ak's hands as means to add pressure into the wound. Tsireya wanted to help, but she had no medicine with her. Feeling useless and can only watch as sweet tirey clings on to life.

"please please please...!! come on, hold on a little longer!! " lo'ak beggs. Tirey tries to laugh but it was just too painful. Feeling the pain grow all over her body. She tries to speak. "c-come on lo'ak....!! I'm n-not weak....!".

Jake and neytiri made it to them, jake seeing tirey wounded made his heart break. "kid come on, stay with me!" he tries, his voice giving away he is scared for her life. With a Shakey arm, tirey points somewhere among the smoke. "kiri.....and t-tuk....!! agh!!" *she winces in pain as she breathes harder. Neytiri looks at where she is pointing at and understands, but the matter at hand she couldn't ignore.

"we have to get her to ronal!" neytiri says urgently. Jake looked at her shaking his head, "she wont make it..". Lo'ak denies it and leans in more to tirey.

"y-your going to be ok..! j-just please!! please hold on a little longer..!!" his voice cracks, begging tirey. All she could do is smile weakly. Lifting her hand, she gently places it on lo'ak cheek in a loving matter.

"I'm not going anywhere...."

Not being able to keep it in anymore, lo'ak had to say what he wanted to say every since they met.

"tirey listen to me, I l-"

"I love you" she smiled. Her voice clear as if she wasnt in pain.

All stood still for a second. Everyone hearing what she said.

"I love you lo'ak. I always...." the light in her eyes fades, her smile dimmed but there on her pretty face. Her hand landing at her stomach. Her head and body now limp.

"tirey? tirey?! no no no!! please!! please please!!" lo'ak shouts. He screams at the top of his lungs, angry. At himself, at the humans, at everything.

Neytiri held her son close, as means to comfort him, while neteyam, grieving in his silent way, gently removed tirey's mask from her face. He will forever be grateful of her sacrifice. Taking the bullet for him. But guilt was there in his heart. Guilt that she had to die instead of him.

Everything was a blank mess after that.

Wasn't long that the metkayina people held a funeral for tirey. The first human to be given such a treatment. After hearing of her sacrifice, it was only right.

Lo'ak took lead, tears still running down his face, his family following close. All grieving for their dear friend. When it was time, lo'ak gave his first and only kiss to tirey on her cold lips. To cherish it in his mind.

Together, the sully family swam down with tirey's body. Letting the yellow tendrils take her body down.

Lo'ak wanted to reach out one more time but neteyam was there to hold him close. Letting lo'ak cry his heart out. Never to see the love of his life grow, be his mate, his other half. Never to have be a family with him, laugh or cry or any of that anymore. Never again.

It is as Tsireya says, the ocean gives, and the ocean takes.

Ok that is all folks! Hope I did justice. Now excuse me as I go wipes my tears-

Tirey = Life

[justanagenderperson]

Hear me out- Agent 47 and Lucas both falling for the reader who’s a newer agent that’s working with them and Diana ( let’s just say Lucas doesn’t die )- maybe a small friendly rivalry😻

anyway idk just some headcanons or a small oneshot would be fine!! I shall give you creative freedom!! I’m sorry this is late hun feel free to take your time <334

Agent 47 x Myles x Lucas Grey a.k.a. THE BEST SHIP BC I LOVE MY FRIENDS [but second pov is used so can be read as genderfluid!y/n]

[I HAVE TO BE QUICK. LOVE YOU MYLES FIRST AND FOREMOST. SECONDLY HAPPY LATE BDAAAAYYYYY. 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 Okayokayhowabout I write hcs since I'm outta time? ALSO HOLY SHIT THE BEGINNING DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE LMAOLMAO-]

Also ngl lowkey forgor what Lucas looked like- 💀 BUT GYATT DAYUM ur taste in men is IMMACULATE- 🤩🤩🤩🤩

For Diana to even have CONSIDERED chosing you, you must've been the best of the best. Absolutely no stains on your record.

But knowing you my dear Myles, that isn't the case, occasional screw-ups here and there nothing too serious...

...I mean minus that incident where you nearly blew up an entire building and somehow managed to get kidnapped not once- but twice-.

Buutttt this isn't a realistic route. Instead, it's the route where you're hypothetically good at what you do. Taking people out.

Whether it be literally rizzing them up like the rizz god you are, or simply assassinating them. You're extremely good at what you do.

So let's say the mission required a group of people to easily blend in. Any less than 3 and the other partygoers would get suspicious. And suspicion draws in the suspect of the big bad:

Ash Croc. I mean it's understandable really with a name like "Ass-crack" it's no wonder the man turned to a life of crime, though you did briefly wonder- why didn't he just change it????

Moving on, he took up a new hobby. Which happened to be human experimentation. Every week or two Ash Croc would hire locals a hefty amount to befriend other locals of the area and then send them an invitation to his so-called "party".

Whether or not they accepted didn't change the outcome. They either came along willingly or with some light convincing.

For some reason this invitation always finds itself wormed in groups of friends no less than 3. Which is why you- Myles-, my dear friend, were chosen.

The mission is an overall success and you end up catching the eye of not one but two expert hitmen.

Moving on.

I like to imagine they have a sort of sibling rivalry like, "I spent more time with Myles today than you did." Or "I got Myles a better birthday gift than you." Stuff like that.

Smooching contests once you're together. Arguments on who is the better kisser and such.

Diana and you naturally make bets. It's very fun. Who confesses to you first? Lucas. Who has more relationship experience? Still Lucas. Now you owe a shit ton of money to the British handler.

Strike me down if I'm wrong but 47 and Lucas definitely play games to settle on who has you for the day ESPECIALLY if it's a special event like your birthday.

I have a feeling you would be the judge to prevent any cheating or foulplay on either hitmen's side. This doesn't stop them from trying to sneakily gain the upper hand however.

As for birthday gifts they definitely try to up one another with how expensive, good quality, and lavish they are. You mention one time that you like the color green?

Boom. full wardrobe of that.

They're like that one part of the fandom where if a character mentions something once they make it out to be like it's a staple part of their life the character can't live without.

After Lucas nearly fucking dies I feel like 47 would become subconsciously a bit more overprotective of his brother.

And Lucas?

He uses that fact to gain leverage at times, "It's half past noon It's my turn to spend time with Myles." "I could've died out in that forest and never seen any of you ever again." Hesitantly 47 backs off mentally reminding himself to insert himself into the situation more carefully next time.

Honestly I don't think that's what Lucas would say but hey, it's something along those lines, probably with more comedic effect too!

All and all very wholesome up until you accidentally get hurt on a mission and they force you to retire early.

HAPPY LATE BIRTH BEACHHHH-💞💞💞💞💞💞🕺💞💞💃

[that-one-pretty-bitch]

@that-one-pretty-bitch: You’ll have a hard time believing this because it never happens, but I made a mistake.

@fuoon  Okay okay stop asking me if I'm straight, gay, bi, whatever. I identify as a FUCKING THREAT

@thotsposts:   bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

@rouecentric:  With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later or not.

@sidra-29: No matter what I do, nobody at school... wants to be friends with me :(

@that-one-pretty-bitch & @manicmagic1: I would offer you moral support but I have questionable morals.

@blvckryx: Dear friends, you Christmas gift this year is.. me. Thats right! Another year of great friendship has been renewed!

@xxelfmamaxx: Are you sure this is the right direction?

@that-one-pretty-bitch: Certainly! I am as sure as I am honest with my parents

@manicmagic1: In that case, we are definitely lost

@u1tr4vio1ence and @that-one-pretty-bitch: If you can’t beat them, dress better than them

@giyuus0nlywife, @thotsposts, @that-one-pretty-bitch, @d10nsaint, @sidra-29, @manicmagic1, @rouecentric, @dxmoness:

So apparently the 'bad vibes' I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress

@sidra-29  , motioning to a Halloween display: All these ghosts! All these ghosts! I still can’t find a boo.

@d10nsaint:  BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

@dxmoness:   People are always asking me if I'm a morning person or a night person. @dxmoness : And I'm just like, 'Buddy! I'm barely even a PERSON!'

@meenasmagic: What doesn't kill me should run, because now I'm fucking pissed.

@sidra-29: Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so...

@lady-navier0357: Sidra, honey, no

@d10nsaint: Same

@lady-navier0357: Okay, truth or dare? @d10nsaint: Truth @lady-navier0357: How many hours have you slept this week? @d10nsaint: @d10nsaint: ...Dare @lady-navier0357: Go to bed. @d10nsaint: I don’t like this game.

@that-one-pretty-bitch : I can explain. @jeweledflowers: Can you? @that-one-pretty-bitch: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

@roucentric: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them. @jeweledflowers: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

@manicmagic1​: You saved me. I owe you my life. @xxelfmamaxx​: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

@loekas​, tending to @rouecentric​ ‘s wounds: How would you rate your pain? @rouecentric​: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

@that-one-pretty-bitch : *holding a bottle* Is this whiskey or perfume? @fuoon​: *chugs entire bottle* @fuoon​: It’s perfume.

@that-one-pretty-bitch: This is such a bad idea. @rouecentric​: Then why are you coming along? @that-one-pretty-bitch​: One of us need to be able to flirt the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong

[pompadourpink]

Hi! I feel hopeless. I just dont get along with my family

So here's the thing. I wanted to study abroad. They cried and accused me of being selfish. So i studied for our national uni exam ( +8 hours a day for all the year) . I almost lost my mind. I lost my mental well being. I was at home all the year. Now i became successful. But my life is a hell still. I want to spend my summer holiday here in our home. They wanna go to country ( where there is nothing for me to do,no friends, not even a mall) they wanna do garden stuff. And my mum cries and tells me she wants to spend time with me. So i accept staying there for one fucking month even though i dont want to. They always accuse me things that make me hate myself. They pushed me through this academic way, i was found gifted. They made me take all these tests, they said i shouldnt study abroad or study hard. My dad is angry that i want to take a prep year in uni ( which everyone takes here) like wtf. We just dont get along. I dont understand them at all and to be honest im too mentally tired to cope with them. I almost lost my mind this year, i think i deserve a break seriously. What should i do? They always cry and blame me and then i do what they want. All my life. But im still bad. And still selfish.

Hello dear,

I first want to ask you this: if it was anyone else in the world, would you allow them to treat you this way? Would you allow a teacher, classmate, neighbour, to tell you what to do, torment you, and make you miserable? Just because someone shares DNA with you doesn't mean they get permission to treat you like garbage and get away with it. Parents owe unconditional love, not kids.

It's not about you. Bullies do what they do because they hurt and have not healed - what you are is a coping mechanism, a punching ball, an easy target. You could objectively be a parent's wet dream and it wouldn't fix the way they treat you, because they're not trying to make you better, they're trying to make themselves feel good. Remember that South Park episode where Kyle's dad, a miserable man turned online bully, inadvertently drives a woman to sui(ide and is flabbergasted that she did it because he never saw it as a possibility, never thought about her feelings. There's nothing in the world you can do to make things better because if it wasn't you, it would be someone else, and if you didn't want to leave, they'd find something else to bother you about. When someone wants a reason to be mad, they'll always manage to find one. It can get better only if they decide to go to therapy and start getting better - which they might never do. This is not your fault and you do not deserve any of it.

Regarding your studies, go and don't look back. You will feel guilty, sure, because you've been raised to have a sense of duty towards family and absolutely no spine, but you already do, so at least you'll feel guilty while finally doing what you want, what you won't have another opportunity to do, what will get you closer to your goals - and you will be by yourself, free of negative energy, able to start healing and realise how good and strong you are. "I shouldn't have done it" is a crappy feeling but "Shit, I should have done it" is even worse.

What should you do? One, find another support system. Sadly, you will not get a change of behaviour, apology, or the unconditional love you've been craving from them. Find other people you can trust. Stop sharing your plans, goals or thoughts with them: you're not going to make them feel bad and change, you're just handing them new ways to hurt you. Stop putting your hand in the lion's mouth and wondering why you're bleeding. Become a grey rock. Two, find yourself. Go through your beliefs, traditions, principles, and wonder what actually fits the person you are; look for would you rather questions online, watch a lot of movies, read a lot of books, travel, meet people, find out what's inside, underneath all of that pain. Three, rebrand. Treat yourself like your own young child. If your eight-year-old had forgotten to do the dishes, would you call them names and ground them? No, you would say that's okay baby, you didn't do anything wrong, let's put a little music on and do them now together.

Also, check out the malks tag and look for relationship advice - someone who has been abused as a kid will get a very unhealthy, transactional idea of love and is likely to get into abusive relationships (with a romantic partner or a friend), and you have enough to heal from already. Protect yourself.

I would obviously encourage you to get a therapist. If you can't, feel free to reach out, there are a few books and websites I can send you.

Much love,

Mum

[temporarymoods]

taking care

Hi blog, don't think I've forgotten about you! I've just been so busy, and then I got sick, even though I didn't want to admit that I was under the weather at first. Now I'm waiting for my period to come, and every month it's so tantalizing. There's this very parade-y buildup, I mean the PMS is quite rough, and it all starts like 7-10 days beforehand, but then just as it's supposed to crest, everything stops. There's a calm before the storm, which without fail has me begging for it all to hit me already!! Part of my eagerness has to come from the fact that I am more prepared than the army for such an onslaught of destruction. Think of a way of collecting period "blood"--- guarantee you I have it, in its most organic form no less. Tampons? Check, with clean cotton. Pads? Multiple kinds, with magic powers. Cup? Yup. Technical underwear? They're actually great, and I own three pairs. I guess every month I just go rando with my method. Maybe switch it up on day 3 (definitely, actually.) My old therapist, the one who was a bit too woo, told me that your period is a gift, in a way: Built-in self-care time, or rather a cleansing, a purging, when deep covered 'stuff' can come to the surface, and you can solve it. I think she thought that cramps were the direct consequence of emotional/spiritual turmoil which was on the sufferer to figure out. Safe to say I haven't taken that last one with me, but the rest sticks, kinda. The idea that you can make something out of once-nothing is not lost on me, as we know. So, being able to ceremonify your period, yeah sure, I'm there. Definitely, actually. Rituals! Greater understanding! Problems and solutions! All make for quite a nice moment. Plus, even though so much about my period does fucking suck, and that's for me, privileged white lady, it means my body's working, and that's not just a given. I remember after my surgery when everything kinda started going again like a system reset, I got my first period a couple of months later. Overjoyed because it meant I was finally normal and healthy and on track with my life, as opposed to fallen off in a ditch, where I had been for too long. This history certainly informs my current affinity for my period--- and, not the be forgotten, the joy not being pregnant :) So, like every other fourth week, I'm kind of looking forward to the spectacle.

Meaning-making is like sticking your hands in a sandbox. Or more like fetching water nearby to make the world malleable under your touch.

Coziness, fuzziness... I've taken these things for granted. I appreciate nmte (now more than ever) the stereotypical, tropey acts such as wearing slippers. "It's what women do," I've known for a long time. But I never felt like them. I've always struggled with leaning into an under-blanket kind of night. But I get it now. And I should really be embracing it more-- being in bed, wearing thick socks, living in sweats. Maybe I'm tired. But you don't need to be exhausted to rest. And resting, squeezing that orange of living for a drop of sweetness, what more could we be here for?

I desire more sweaters. I'm going to a fall festival at a farm soon; it will surely be the highlight of my month. This peach tea I'm currently sipping is very nice. My apple candle is bright smelling and perfect. I love that I get to sleep, and dream (so I can wake up and realize it is not real.) One of my dear friends is flying to visit for the long weekend. Tomorrow I'm going to a new cafe, which I've managed to make a habit of. Schoolwork is tough, but it will be over soon, and my everyday will blossom better. I owe some texts to my mom. The air was warming tonight. A newly discovered sustainable fashion brand had a great sale; a package will be arriving soon. There's a list of movies I'd like to watch this month, when I've got time in between open markets and thrifting. I've been asked on a date, but nervous to respond. The silhouettes of my room decor reflects how much I care about this bedroom setting, bringing me peace. I'm glad I got to blog again, even if it feels overwhelming. Hopefully my Depop listings will reach the right people.

What would be the first step in securing safe absences for those dealing with menstrual pain, really, where would we even start? I'd love to get some acquaintances around and discuss this. How would I do that?

Haha, Kate

p.s. brain noisy, pillow time

[theyungihven]

Stigma [rewriting]Mafia au (mingi loses his love and the voice in his head pushes him to uncover the truth behind it.)

Your scent [F] 2:33am (you’ve had a stressful week and now a sleepless night due to your terrifying nightmares. the only safe place in this world is Mingi’s arms)

Afterlife [F] 10:30pm (after your death, you have a rather strange encounter in the afterlife)

Movie Night [M] 1:22am (when the flim isn’t that spicy, you got create your own)

My Kitten [M] hybrid au (as a bratty sub, it is your right to mess with your master)

Owe you everything [M] (lil minmin as your birthday gift )

One fine morning [M] you have a sweet time with your jealous CEO

My saviour [F](whos the angel to the rescue? ITS MINGI!!!!)

Inappropriate cuddling [M] your attention deprived boyfie doesn’t let you read peacefully

Strip that down [M] ceo mingi (guess who couldn’t control themselves and asked you to strip down your pretty dress)

Yours truly [M] mingi gets wrecked twice. Yeh TWICE!

We were meant to be [F]uni au, childhood friends to lovers (where a new dimension opens up cuz mingi prays for his love to be together in their next life)

I’m covered in the colors of you [F] you finally confess to the pretty boy in your class and discover he is rather not fond of pink and pretty things (inspired by heartstopper)

One glorious Afternoon [M] a rather hot and tiring summer evening brings some sweet gifts with it, which is mingi worshipping you.

All my love is gone [A] seeing your ex all happy on the television while your heart is wreching in the pain from the aftermath of your breakup is terrible

Red Room [M] as it is exam week for your boyfie who's an architecture student, and you haven't been home in a week, you decided to surprise him with something out of his wildest dreams.

Partner In Crime [F] in dreams of becoming a beauty pageant, you run away from home but meet a stranger who helps you meet ends but you end up falling for him

Boyfriend Mingi [F & M] headcanon

My Dear Kitten ft San [M]threesome BDSM THEMED (you are yunho’s kitten and he decides to share you with his best friend one day. )

Delicacy [M] whats more romantic than been railed on a kitchen counter?

Sunflower [F](a sweet little uni au where our hopeless romantic mr.yunho falls in love with someone who’ll never love him back. (set in the renaissance era)

Strawberries [M] just you, yunho, your love for strawberries and his love for you.

Summoned ft San [M]threesome Demon Au (where you accidentally summon two incubi and have to deal with them for the rest of the night.)

4AM[M] Tattooist Yunho Au (where he is a student of your uni and surprise surprise a tattooist at the parlor down the alley whom you kinda fall for later.)

The Agreement ft Jongho [M] office au werewolf 2ho ft vamp! reader (where your bosses need you for preserving their sanity and you need their blood for your survival.)

Wildest Dreams [M] gamer yuyu (your bf yunho joins you in the shower)

A breathtaking evening [M] Prince yuyu (where you spend the evening fucking your newly wed husband under the apple tree of his gardens)

The Flower Crown [M] Royal au (you meet a stranger in a bookstore while you stay at the neighbouring kingdom but only the writings in your journal about him linger and you memories with him are vanished )

It’s nice to have a friend ft Hongjoong [F]yuyu is hongjoong’s bestie and they spend a calm evening in the cafe

We are different love! Yunsang au [M] soulmate au (love forces even the kindest soul to commit a crime for their beloved )

Bathed in Sin [M] san returns, to steal yunho's secret link but the tall demon is rather too smart and find his girl with fucking his bestfriend in his flat

Peculiar Interests [M] yunho notices your peculiar interests towards the red marks he leaves in your wrist and the next day, when he comes home with a bundle of ropes, you can't help but squirm in your seat

Who am I to you? [F] your visit to your sister's new family turns into a series of unexpected moments which incudes falling for her troublesome brother in law

The Emerald Prince [F] when you get lost in the Greek countryside, an Emerald haired boy saves you but you unknowingly get lost in his warm brown eyes

Up to something [M] husband yunho; you text your husband, asking him an apology but he comes home to you watching other men

Boyfriend Yunho [F & M] headcanon

The Escapist [F]yunho is a famous painter and mingi a celebrated art critic. what could exactly go wrong when they both cross paths?

Red Roses [M] office au, (where yungi were high school sweethearts now turned into lovers and co-workers at their company which mingi is the ceo of and yunho is the director.)

Oh honey, I’m addicted [M] a sweet cuddling session turns chaotic ft reader

Jealousy Jealousy [M](mingi gets extreamly jealous when he sees you all over yunho and you get punished that night. but a week later, you find yourself on your knees between Yunho's legs)

Like the movies [F, M]new york city au (you crash into mingi at the skating park and in a month you find yourself spending soo much time with him along with his best friend yunho)

That one good-looking stranger [M] strangers to lovers, neighbours au; song mingi starts believing in love at first sight when one day a pretty man, his neighbour yunho, walks into the elevator and he's left speechless by his beauty.

________________

Seonghwa

Today was a fairytale [F] you and a stranger reach out for the same book, but will he let you have it?

ATEEZ

bollywood x ateez series

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Venom Let There Be Carnage Alternate Ending

"What would Venom do?" Eddie asked himself as he tapped on the desk, scrolling through his computer for something to help him. "We're fucked." The reporter banged his head against the desk when there was a knock on the apartment door. Despite their fight, as Eddie got up he hoped that maybe it was Venom coming back.

"Yeah, what's u-" Eddie trailed off when he saw the woman at the door. Frances Barrison had a large grin on her face.

"Hey there Eddie." She stepped in the apartment as the man backed away. "You're invited to mine and Cletus' wedding."

"Do I get a choice in this?" Eddie asked as he scrambled for something to defend himself with.

"Nope." She opened her mouth and began to shriek.

~~

"C'mon Eddie. Pick up, pick up..." Anne sat in her fiance's minivan, trying the man's number again but still got nothing.

'He's not picking up. Typical.'

"Well you're right there." Anne said as she tried to dial again, Venom manifesting over her shoulder to look at the phone screen.

"I'm sorry but how are you so can about this? There's literally an alien inside you right now. You kissed Mrs. Chen so he could go inside you. Don't your think that's weird?" Dan said as he looked at both his fiance and the alien incredulously.

"We know it's weird, at this point we're just used to it."

"How do you get used to that?" Dan asked as he pulled the car into park in front of Eddie's apartment building. The trio getting out and moving inside. Dan reaching for the elevator button but one of Venom's tendrils extended out and slapped his hand away.

'No time need stairs.'

"Venom said we don't have time for the elevator."

"Well tell him that I have tender calves and am taking the stairs." Dan pressed the button again when more tendrils shot out and grabbed the doctor. "What the hell-?" The doctor didn't get to finish as he was thrown up the flights of stairs followed closely by Anne and Venom. "Hey! What the hell was that? ...ow..."

'Tell him I think him and his tender calves are full of shit.'

"Venom said this was easier."

'Liar.' Anne rolled her eyes at the symbiote and instead focused on finding Eddie's apartment. Wasn't hard considering the door was blown almost completely off.

"That can't be good." Dr. Dan commented as they stepped over the door.

'Thank you for the commentary Dr. Dan.'

"Hey he's doing his best." Anne defended her fiance. Facing the room she was greeted by a mess. Not unusual save the large claw marks along the wall and all the busted out windows. "Don't suppose you had anything to do with this?"

'No. Not that we can remember.' Venom peeked of the woman and called out. "Eddie, we're here and willing to take an apology for your stupidity-wait where's Sonny and Cher?"

"Sonny and Cher?" Dan asked as he looked around the small apartment.

"Our chickens."

"Why do you have chickens?" Anne asked as she took a deep breath. "Uh gross. What's that smell?"

"The answer to both of those questions are, you don't want to know."

"Hey!" Dan came towards them holding a card in his hand. "Found this...I don't think it's good." Venom had one of his tendrils lash out, grabbing the card from Dan's hand and holding it in front of his and Anne's face.

"It's...."

"...a wedding invitation."

~~

"Oh what a happy day! Aren't you excited Eddie? Me and Frances finally getting out promised wedding." Cletus danced in the chapel's aisle excitedly. His suit covered by a ridiculous fur coat as he hummed before taking a seat in the pews next to Eddie. Eddie glared at Cletus as he wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders. "Or you at a loss for words too?"

"I'm gagged you asshole." Came out a muffled grunt as he tried to pull away from the man. Looking across the aisle he saw Detective Mulligan still slumped over unconscious. Eddie had been in a lot of not good situations before. But trapped with a serial killer that had alien symbiote in his body and they both wanted to kill him? Probably near the top of the list.

"All we have to do is wait for our guest of honor to arrive and we'll have a full on family reunion! Carnage sure was excited when I mentioned both his daddies were gon be here."

Daddies? Eddie narrowed his eyes. He was barely able to take care of himself, the idea he had a part in making a baby was somehow more terrifying than the situation at hand.

"Don't worry about him baby." The woman who brought him here laughed as she pulled Cletus away and dipping him for a kiss. "All that matters right now is you and me."

"Don't think I don't know that darlin'." The serial killer returned the kiss and very openly shoved his tongue down her throat. Eddie watched in horror as he tried but to vomit in his mouth. Instead focusing on his hands that were bound in front of him and trying to save at them on a broken off chunk of wood from the pew.

He didn't get very far when the doors to the church slammed open. Both he and the psychotic couple took pause and turned to see Anne standing in there doorway, a very angry look on her face.

"Anne!" Eddie tried to call out excitedly. Cletus pulled away from his to be wife, eyebrow raised.

"And who exactly are you?" Cletus asked. In response Venom appeared, taking over the woman's body and snarling.

"You took our Eddie."

"Oh! Well I guess the show has begun!" Cletus backed away and allowed his body to fade as a large red body took over. He looked like Venom only taller and if Eddie was being frank, much, much more terrifying. It seemed Venom agreed. The symbiote backing away with a loud ,"Shit!"

"Hey there daddy." The symbiote spoke. Extending his arm and grabbing Eddie. Yanking the man in front of them. The other arm turning into a large blade against Eddie's throat. "Don't think we've got the chance to meet. I'm your son. And it's time to pay up."

~~

'Shit, shit, shit!'

Venom cursed as he retreated back into Anne's body. The woman stood there, trying to make the symbiote come back out.

"Venom, what the hell?"

'That's a red one!'

"I can see! What's so scary about that?"

'That means it combined with the blood of another species.'

"And....?"

'And it's a lot stronger than normal ones!'

"So you're saying we're in trouble."

'An understatement but yes. Very much so.'

"Can you come back out now?" Anne yelled as she scrambled back when the symbiote began to approach them. Eddie in his grip, looked almost as terrified as they were.

.

'No way, we'd definitely die.'

"We're definitely going to die of you don't come out!" Anne screamed as she dodged out of the way of a tendril. It narrowly missed her head as she began to crawl under the pews away from the creature.

'No you're definitely going to die. We'd probably be fine.'

Another tendril wrapped around Anne's ankle, starting to drag her back to the creature.

"Yeah but Eddie won't be!"

'Hmmmm....'

"If you come out I'll let you eat people!" Anne was now full out panicking as she clung to the leg of a church bench for dear life.

'Really?'

"Yes! Everyone! Just help me out!"

'Okay!' The bench finally gave way but Venom took over the woman's body. As they were pulled up to the creature, Venom jumped up and punched the creature with a hard uppercut. This surprised them enough to drop Eddie. The reporter quickly crawling out of the way as the red symbiote retaliated. Bringing the makeshift blade down on Venom as they just further their own shield. The two trading blows when the church bells started to ring loudly. Both the symbiote screeched in pain. Retreating into their hosts bodies.

This left Anne and Cletus staring at each other. Anne getting ready to run when she was grabbed from behind by the strong arms of a woman.

"Hey there blondie." The other woman giggled as Cletus approached them.

"Ah Frances darling, got me another wedding gift? You shouldn't have." The bells continued to toll when the man grabbed a stray plastic bag from the dirty floor and wrapping it around the woman's face. Anne choked and gasped while the couple just stared at her with glee. Darkness starting to creep into the woman's vision when there was a loud shout.

"Hey! Get the fuck away from my fiance!" The grip on Anne loosened allowing her to fall to the ground. She immediately took the bag off to see Dan holding an aerosol can in one hand and a lighter in the other. "Say hello to my little friends!"

By now the bell had stopped and everyone was clearly able to hear this terrible quip.

'He did not just say that.' Venom spoke in Anne's head.

"No...he did."

'I still don't get why you left us for him.'

Venom couldn't complain too much as he took over Anne's body again. Dan lit his makeshift flame thrower and backed the couple away. The red symbiote taking over Cletus' body again and growling.

"This isn't over." The creature hissed out, grabbing the woman and swinging out of the chapel she cackled, them disappearing into the night. But that wasn't what was important. Instead they rushed over to Eddie who was sprawled out on the floor.

"Eddie!" Venom rushed over to the man. Leaning down they ripped the gag out as he opened his eyes.

"Mmm...Venom? You actually came?" He sounded surprised. The symbiote sliced through the ropes and brought the man up in a hug. "Whoa there buddy....you must've really missed me."

"We're still angry at you."

"Yeah. I kind of figured."

"Is there anything you want to say?"

"I'm an idiot?"

"And?"

"You're not a parasite?"

"And...?"

"And....I'm sorry. I was a huge asshole and I could probably be a better host."

"Isn't there anything else you want to say to them?" They turned to see Dan who had been intently watching them from a distance.

"Anything else?" Eddie asked confused.

"Like I love you?" Venom asked and Eddie made a face before leaning in.

"Yeah. I guess. I love you sounds about right." Venom leaned down, lips locking with Eddie's as they left Anne's body and took over his.

"Aww..... that's sweet. I think." Dan spoke as Anne stepped back. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. Honestly I'm glad they're finally working through their issues."

"Yeah....here's hoping they don't have anymore kids though." Dan laughed as he said this. "I mean, what are the odds?"

[rainguk]

perfect pitch | ksj

⁕ summary; your stand partner this year is, to put it simply, insufferable. with a rare sense of perfect pitch and a stunning face to boot, this boy's ego is absolutely off the charts... but you'd be lying if you said you didn't care about him anyway.

⁕ pairing; seokjin x reader

⁕ rating; pg-13

⁕ words; 3.9k

⁕ genre; crack, fluff - stand partners idiots to lovers (with a lil bit of enemies in there), high school au, orchestra au

⁕ warnings; swearing, threats but like nothing violent happens LOL, seokjin's sense of humor: there's like one mildly inappropriate joke (i'm sorry bach), super cliche rain scene i apologize

⁕ notes; this is based off of infuriatingly true events in my life because people with perfect pitch just LOVE flexing it like i'll drop my fork on the table and my friend's just like "oh wow that was a B flat" aaaaggghjsdjsdf anyways... i had a lot of fun writing this and i'm nearing the end of another longer fic i'm writing so please look forward to that :D hope you enjoy!!! + if you ever want me to tag you in my fics just let me know and i will <3 plus this is unedited and disgustingly cringy as it nears the end so read at your own risk

⁕ tags; @imdamconfused @sunghoonight-x @iminchaosnow

⁕ song; butter (bts)

masterlist

You’re teetering dangerously on the edge, a mere few seconds away from stabbing your stand partner in the eye with whatever you can use as a weapon.

“Hey, are you okay?” Seokjin cuts into your murderous thoughts, alarmed. “You look… truth be told, Y/N, you look like you want to kill someone.”

“If you don’t shut up about how flat my A is, that someone might just end up being you.”

“How romantic.”

Your bow slides off your violin with a cadence of squeaky notes. “Can you at least stop flirting with me while I’m trying to tune this thing?!”

He smiles, a bright, brilliant thing that shows off all his perfect teeth. You swallow, heart suddenly racing a thousand times faster; it’s no secret that Kim Seokjin is probably the biggest pain in the neck you’ve ever met, but it’s also true that he is insanely good-looking. And you’re not about to deny it.

“You like it, though.”

Well, shit.

“Not everyone’s head over heels in love with you,” you retort, trying desperately to throw him off your trail. You know what happens with popular kids like him; once it’s known that you have a soft spot for them, everyone pounces on you, bombarding you with questions and snide remarks and rumors.

Of course, it’s complicated — because how on earth could you want to rip off someone’s head and kiss them at the same time?

But you tell yourself that it’s only because he looks like that; not because he easily gets you to laugh like it’s nobody’s business, and certainly not because he looks out for you in the littlest ways; leaving his rosin out on the stand for you to use and lending you a pencil when you need one.

Kim Seokjin is an insufferable little shit, yes. But he’s a friendly insufferable little shit. And you would honestly be so down to hang out with him and get to know him better, save for one little thing that’s been getting in your way.

His perfect fucking pitch.

Being stand partners with someone naturally gifted with such a sense is both a blessing and a curse. Countless times, Seokjin has saved your ass from being questioned by Mrs. Choi by letting you know silently that you’re a little too sharp, or playing in the wrong key entirely. (That last one has happened before.) Sometimes you can’t hear Namjoon, the principal violinist, too well from where you’re seated, so you’ve relied on Seokjin on many occasions to tune your strings correctly.

However, it irks you equally as much when he uses it against you, stopping you mid-piece to let you know that your C# sounds more like a D to him. No one’s perfect, and certainly not you — but you try, and to be shot down every single time by someone who thinks it’s absolutely funny to watch you repeatedly attempt to fix your pitch issues is purely exhausting.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“What?” you demand, sighing as you turn to him.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

“No—”

“Why did Bach have twenty children?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god—”

He continues anyway, ignoring your plea with that mischievous grin, “Because he had no organ stops!”

Seokjin is trying his best not to laugh at his own joke, shoulders shaking at the punch line. You can’t help it yourself, a giggle bursting out of your own chest as you cover your mouth.

“That was horrendous,” you tell him once you catch your breath again. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Oh, worry not,” he proclaims, smiling widely, “I can do far better.”

“Wait, no—”

“What tone does a piano falling down a mineshaft make?”

You furrow your brows, thinking. “I don’t know,” you shake your head after a few seconds. “What is it?”

“A flat minor.”

Your jaw drops open as you process it, and Seokjin just watches you in amusement. “You should be banned from making these kinds of jokes,” you tell him. “Seriously.”

“Admit it, I’m hilarious,” he counters. “I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

He did, you’ve got to acknowledge. He always does, in some way, now that you think about it. Whenever you end up coming to rehearsal in a bad mood, it’s always because of Seokjin that you leave the auditorium with a smile on your face.

The realization startles you like nothing else — you hadn’t known before that he played such a role in your daily life.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he starts again, “We have a concert tonight.”

“Yeah…” You turn to him, eyebrow raised. “You forgot about the biggest performance of the year?”

Seokjin nods, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Yeah. My bad. You’re coming, right?”

“Duh,” you reply, fishing a block of rosin out of your case. “It’s almost half of my grade; no way I can skip. Besides, I like performing.”

“You do?”

“What are you so surprised for?” you ask him playfully. “I do enjoy it. I might not be good — not as good as you — but I like it. I like playing together with everyone, being able to hear every other part fit in with mine perfectly.” You frown. “Now if you asked me to play solo, I wouldn’t do it for anything in the world. Ensemble performances are far better.”

“You’re good,” Seokjin says quietly, looking at you — it’s like he’s taking you in, letting his eyes linger on you for a little while longer. “Don’t think that you’re not. You sound nice, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze for several breathless seconds before scoffing, turning away. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

“I don’t need empty compliments fr—”

Your bickering is cut short by Mrs. Choi walking onstage, a stack of sheet music in her hand which is promptly handed to Namjoon for him to distribute to the entire orchestra. You don’t offer your usual smile when he gives you two, and it’s with an impassive expression that you hand the extra to your stand partner.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maybe you’ve made it more awkward between you two — but what else could have happened? Had you been hoping he’d magically fall in love with you and kiss you and you would have gone on dates?

No, of course not. This is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about; and besides, no matter how much you manage to soften up to him one moment, he’ll immediately make you want to murder him the next.

“Hey, Y/N… um — your D is just, you know, a little bit sharp—”

“Kim Seokjin, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You, my dear, are just overcomplicating this for yourself,” Taehyung declares after listening to you rant about your problematic stand partner over lunch. “What’s the issue? You like him — don’t you shake your head at me, Y/N, you’re as obvious as an open book — and he clearly likes you. Why don’t you just date him?”

“It’s not that simple,” you grumble, brutally stabbing another piece of chicken. “I can’t just walk up to him and ask him out, Tae. Plus, he doesn’t like me, he just likes flirting with everyone he lays his eyes on.”

“From what you’re telling me, it sure does sound like it.”

“Taehyung…”

“Come on, you can’t possibly be that clueless, Y/N.”

“No,” you insist. “He’s a pain in the ass, and he enjoys getting a rise out of me, and he flexes that dumb pitch power of his whenever he can.”

“But you like him...”

“You’re not helping!”

This is where Jimin decides to intervene, tired of your back and forth arguing. “She has a point, Tae. But,” he says to you. “He’s also right. You need to take some kind of action.”

“Yeah, but what?”

Taehyung claps his hands, a telltale sign of a new idea. “Flirt back!”

“Okay, absolutely not—”

Jimin grabs you suddenly, shaking your shoulders. “Wait, think about it!” he exclaims, eyes wide. “It can work! That way you can see if he actually does like you, and you won’t publicly embarrass yourself by confessing to him, either!”

“On second thought, I’d have preferred to see the public embarrassment—”

“Shut up, Tae, you’re just making her feel worse!”

That makes you laugh; contrary to Jimin’s statement, your best friends certainly have succeeded in making you feel just a little bit better.

“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual,” you tease. “Maybe I owe him a dose, actually, because I’ve seen firsthand a particularly painful confession back in n—”

“Y/N! Don’t you dare bring that up!”

Amidst the chaos of Taehyung screeching while trying to attack you with a spoon and Jimin holding him back, someone taps on your shoulder lightly; a momentary distraction from this madness, if you will.

“Oh. You,” you respond when greeted with the gently smiling face of Kim Seokjin. “Did you need anything?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, instead showing you his closed fist. “Wanted to give you something.”

“If it’s another one of my strings that you’ve borrowed and also broken, then you can keep it, thanks.”

Seokjin shakes his head, chuckling. “Not that, Y/N. I always throw out the strings I break; don’t worry. I just thought you should have this.”

With that, he places a small wooden box on your lunch bag — at a closer look, you realize it’s a block of rosin. Brand new, too, by the looks of it — when you take off the bright blue lid, there are no scratches on the surface, no sign of wear and tear.

“For me?” You look at him, surprised to be met with a rather fond gaze you’re not used to. “Why?”

“Noticed the one you had was basically falling apart,” he says nonchalantly, attempting to mask the slight tremble in his voice and the blush on his cheeks. “I mean, come on — how are you gonna keep your bow in good shape with those tiny chunks of this stuff?”

“Oh,” is all you can reply, staring at the gleaming black cube in your hand. “I — thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” He’s back to his bright, grinning self again, all self-confidence and smug smiles. “See you tomorrow,” he tells you, before waving to your friends. “Have a nice lunch, guys.”

It takes Jimin and Taehyung precisely fourteen seconds after Seokjin leaves for his own table to lose their shit.

“Was he looking out for you?”

“Did he actually just give you a new block of rosin?!”

“And you still don’t wanna date this guy?”

“You guys are violinists! Gifting each other supplies is basically your love language!”

You fidget with the rosin, smoothing your thumb over the lid. “No, that’s just how he is,” you defend. “He always lends me rosin when I need it.”

“And you always lend him extra strings,” Taehyung says, a teasing smile on his face. They’re kind of right, you realize when you think about it. Never has Seokjin actually given you a block to keep, and though you might be overestimating the significance of the gesture, it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

“Okay, anyways,” Jimin changes the topic, “How are we feeling about tonight’s concert?”

“I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “We’ve got everything under control — Mrs. Choi was afraid the cellos would screw up their solo section, but they managed to pull it together today and they sounded great.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” Taehyung sighs. “Not when the tenors keep screwing up their long note—”

“That wasn’t me! That was Jeon Jungkook!”

“Yeah, sure—”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Come on, we are not arguing about this right now. I’m sure you guys will sound fine, you always do. Plus, Jeon has a really sweet voice.”

“I guess so,” Taehyung shrugs. “But I think the highlight of tonight is going to be Y/N getting to see her guy all dressed up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No!” You exclaim a little too quickly, cheeks red. “Why would you say something like that?!”

“Because you’re whipped for him—”

“I am most certainly not—”

Jimin laughs out loud, almost toppling off of his chair. “You know, Y/N, we might have believed you if you weren’t redder than a fucking tomato right now—”

“PARK JIMIN! NOT YOU TOO!”

As luck would have it, you’re a solid ten minutes late.

Call time was at six o’clock, and here you are; slamming the car door shut as you wave a hasty goodbye to your father and run to the main entrance, all the while trying not to get drenched in the rain.

(Your folder and the music inside it are probably already soaked, but that’s an issue for another time.)

You hurry down the stairs, pushing the double doors open with a quick apology to Mrs. Choi, who gives you a stern look but says nothing else. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you slide into your seat, already unlatching your case.

“You’re late.”

You twist your neck to give your stand partner a blank stare. “I’m aware.”

“You look really nice,” he blurts out next, blinking faster than usual.

“Thanks?” You try and laugh it off, fastening your shoulder rest to the back of your violin. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just a flowy black dress with your hair tied back, but his remark renders you speechless for a split second “So do you.”

You manage to compliment him nonchalantly, but your heart is beating twice as fast, eyes admiring his parted, fluffy hair, the white dress shirt impeccable on his figure. And his lips…

Shit. You really are down bad, but you don’t have time to dwell on it — Mrs. Choi is starting the last piece already, and you’re scrambling to have your instrument ready by the time the first violins start with their little intro.

Seokjin laughs at you quietly, but inhales sharply when you start to rosin your bow hair. “You kept it,” he says softly, nodding at the block in your hands.

“Yeah,” you swallow, suddenly self-conscious. “I did.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

“I’m not that ungrateful,” you wrinkle your nose at him. “Of course I kept it, Seokjin.”

“Jin.”

“Huh?”

“Jin,” he repeats, flicking a strand of chestnut hair away from his eyes. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“Since when am I your friend?”

“Would you rather not be?”

“Would you rather be?”

Seokjin — Jin, rather — frowns down at you. “Stop asking questions to my questions!”

“You did it first!” you exclaim, laughing. “Hypocrite! Answer mine, then!”

He looks at you for a long moment, like he’s taking his sweet time choosing the right words to say to you. “Since now,” he decides finally, firmly. “You are now. I want you to be mine. My friend,” he clarifies, turning deep red as he says it.

“I thought you hated me,” you muse. “And I was pretty sure you thought I was the lamest kid ever because I couldn’t play a single thing right.”

“Of course not,” Jin shakes his head vehemently. “You’re cool, Y/N. A little tone deaf, but cool.”

“Take that back!”

“I’m sorry, it’s the truth,” he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You send him your best glare, but contrary to your facial expression, it’s nice to laugh with him like this. You’ve been so caught up with telling yourself that you shouldn’t be feeling anything but annoyance when you’re around him that you ignored your blossoming feelings, and now they’ve fully bloomed, leaving no room for that initial irritation you so often experienced.

Friends. It’s not what you most want, but it’s something. You could get used to that.

The concert goes smoothly, and the choir performances were absolutely delightful to watch — but your father is late, again, which means you’re stuck waiting for him out in the rain that hasn’t let up for hours.

You’re about to call him for the fifth time in ten minutes when you hear a set of heavy footsteps behind you, running up the stairway. “Y/N!”

“Jin?” you ask, surprised by the boy making his way toward you, brown hair completely soaked. “What are you doing out here?”

“I lied,” he says breathlessly, like he’s in a rush, and if he doesn’t tell you now, he might never be able to. “I’m sorry, I — I lied, Y/N. I don’t want you to be my friend — God, I don’t think I could live with that. I want you to be more.”

“Jin—”

“I just,” he exhales forcefully, “I want to be able to take you out and hold your hand and hug you and kiss you—”

When your mind finally clears up, you don’t let him finish his sentence, instead grabbing his collar and yanking him down so you can press your lips to his in one swift motion. A quiet gasp leaves his mouth, but he quickly adjusts to the situation, hands dropping his violin so he can gently cradle your face, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. It’s all happening so fast that you barely even have time to think, to properly take it all in.

His lips are cold due to the nasty weather, and you’re both sopping wet — and this is most definitely the worst setting for this to have happened, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“That,” Jin breathes when you finally let him go, pupils dilated, “that was—”

“My first,” you finish. Your prior courage all gone, you’re a bit nervous now, too embarrassed by your bold move to even meet his eyes. What were you thinking? “I-I’m sorry...”

“Sorry?” Jin asks, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“You know, because… of that.” You can barely speak up, cheeks burning. “I-I don’t know why I did that. Is this — is this a prank or something? Did you plan this? Was I just supposed to laugh it off and threaten to take your eye out with my bow instead?”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, laughing. “Can’t you tell, Y/N?” He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper. “I like you, you idiot. Ever since you waltzed into the auditorium sophomore year and nearly broke your violin falling down the stairs, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You… you like me?” you ask incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. “Like, for real? You’re not just pulling my leg like you usually love to do?”

“I meant what I said, Y/N,” he tells you softly, fingers intertwined with yours. His voice is genuine, soothing. “I want to do all those things with you, if you’ll let me.”

It takes you a while to reply, but when you do, your heart is pounding so loudly in your chest that you can barely hear yourself. “A-And if I said yes?”

A wide grin breaks out onto Jin’s face as he pulls you into a hug, both your instruments forgotten on the pavement and your head resting on his chest as he holds you close. A few days ago, you would have thought yourself a fool for even thinking that a day like this would ever come; yet here you are, all those daydreams come true.

It’s all so new to you, and you’ll most likely screw up along the way — multiple times. But hand in hand with Jin and his vexing ability to pick out a B from a B flat, things aren’t looking so bad.

You’ll work it out.

Hanging out with your friends is always a chaotic (but fun) occurrence — but when you add your boyfriend’s buddies into the mix, it all goes down to shit.

Actually, it’s all his fault, if you really think about it. Why on earth did he think challenging Taehyung to a baking competition was even remotely close to being a good idea?

“That’s so not fucking fair!” the aforementioned best friend cries, angrily shaking a spatula at a playfully grinning Jung Hoseok. “You can’t just hide the bag of flour! I fucking forgot to put it in!”

“Nothing we can do about it now, Tae,” Jimin sighs, massaging his forehead as the three of you stare at the burnt, soupy mass your team has created. “We fucking lost, that’s it.”

“So,” Jin smirks mischievously, nudging your elbow. “I guess Hoseok and I win this one, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you shove him back, though you’re grinning; a plate with a slice of his impeccably made cake in your hands and a fork lifted to your lips. “You’re good at this and you know it. I knew from the start that you were just trying to fuck around with Tae.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Your evil, demonic, deceptive, satanic boyfriend—”

“Nice vocabulary,” Hoseok comments without looking up, and you’re sure he’s on your best friend’s hit list at this point.

“Well — anyways, he’s out to get me,” Taehyung continues, frowning. “I feel attacked.”

“Yeah, okay, keep saying that several years from now when you’re sitting in a church and Y/N’s walking down the aisle,” Jimin says nonchalantly, causing you to choke on your cake in complete shock.

“What the heck — we’re literally eighteen! You can’t — you can’t just say things like that!” you exclaim indignantly, fork clattering against your empty plate. Jin grins widely all of a sudden, tapping your shoulder all of a sudden.

“Jagi.”

“Hmm?” You turn to him, momentarily forgetting how flustered Jimin’s comment made you feel.

“That was a really nice C# just now…”

Your mouth drops open as you gape at your boyfriend; part of you wants to cry and part of you wants to laugh. You knew when you agreed to make it official that somewhere along the line, you’d have to deal with these kinds of things, but now that it’s actually happening…

You turn to Jimin, patience already running thin from Jin’s antics (actually, you secretly love it, though you’ll never admit it to his face.)

“And you have the audacity to suggest that I’ll actually get married to this man?”

“Y/N? Honey, wake up. I… I just realized something.”

“Oh — Jin? What is it? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. You know, I was thinking about it, and I realized that...” Your husband bites down on his lip hesitantly, glancing down at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“Yeah?” you press, curious.

“When Aera cries — you know, when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs,” he smiles fondly. “It’s always — she always cries in either F# or C#. It’s,” he looks like he’s nearing tears, “the D major key. Y/N, she literally cries in D major. I’m—”

You sigh, smiling amusedly to yourself as you snuggle up to him for extra warmth, holding your baby close. Leave it to none other than Kim Seokjin to analyze his daughter’s pitch — isn’t that part of the reason why you fell in love with him, anyway?

Life with Jin is many things — a chaotic mess that includes the constantly screaming light of your lives, three pandemoniac best friends, and far too many notes for you to keep track of. And though sometimes you want to chuck a blue-lidded block of rosin at his head to shut him up, you’re more than ready for it all.

— feedback/questions/just wanna chat?

thank you for reading perfect pitch! ♡

[wolfish-trickster]

Liar

Loki x female!reader

Part 2 (I wanted the first part to be only oneshot, but since a lot of you asked so nicely)

Word count: 2,5K

Warning: angst, fluffy doggie

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz @lokis-leah @belovedadam @getyoutmoon

You heard him through your door shouting your name, begging you to listen to him, to let him inside to talk to you. You didn't. Your hands tried to cover Rex's ears. Poor pup, he started shivering from all of that shouting and was clinging to you for dear life.

When Loki became quiet for few minutes you kinda expected him to kick the door, call you a bitch and leave. But nothing like that happened. Instead hard footsteps started leaving your door. You were alone once again, feeling more hollow than ever.

*

Sun hasn't even risen yet when you exited the Tower with Rex on the leash. You spent big part of the night making your little friend used to the feeling of being on string and he was already eager to try it out outside your room. You haven't met anyone on your way out, thank heavens.

It started to dawn when you finally got to the park you've been in yesterday. First rays of sun tickled you on your cheeks. Rex was running around, sniffing and marking every tree, chewing on grass and lower parts of benches. You threw him some branches and cones and giggled when he tripped over his small paws. He was so full of life. Unlike you.

You missed Loki. You hated him for what he did, true. But you still missed him. He was so desperate to explain, to make up with you. But you couldn't let him manipulate you anymore. You almost believed him when he called you 'love' and stayed at your door, pleading to be let in.

Almost.

Now that your dog was freshened up after a morning walk, both you and him deserved breakfast. You didn't feel any hunger, but you still needed to put something into you. Even if it will taste like sand in your mouth.

The elevator dinged on the floor containing living room and kitchen. You prayed Loki wasn't there. He wasn't, but you were greeted by another god instead.

Thor was sitting at the table, he had his back to you, but you knew he heard you coming. Rex excitedly ran towards him and started sniffing his leg. You gently pulled him backwards a little.

"Morning," you greeted, your voice a little less cheerful like it used to be.

Thor swallowed anything he was chewing and turned towards you. "What did you do to Loki?"

Of course he had to go and complain to his big bro. "None of your business," you retorted and tied the end of the leash around one of the chairs. You knew if you let your pup go you would have to chase him around the whole New York.

"It is my business. He is my brother-"

"Adoptive," you reminded him his own words he once said the first time you met.

"-adoptive brother. But still mine. Y/N, you used to be so close, why did you lash out on him like that?"

You rolled your eyes. "He deserved it," you started to pour water into kettle.

"He deserved it how?"

"Look, I know what are you going to think when I tell you the truth. But frankly, I don't care. He betrayed me- no, he lied to me. Our whole friendship was a damn game to him. I was a damn game to him. He manipulated me, played the poor sad victim of abusive father so I could get him out of the prison. Which I did! I was so stupid. You were right, all of you were right and I was wrong. He's a villain who can't be trusted," when you ended your rant you realized you gathered enough water for two cups of tea out of habit. You poured half of the kettle down the sink.

"And why do you think he did all of that?" Thor asked

You gulped down the lump creating in your throat upon remembering his words. "I heard him," you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

While the water was heating up you filled Rex's bowel with some canned meat and put it infront of his little snout.

"You must've heard wrong then."

"And how can you be so sure? You weren't even there!" water started bubbling.

"I know Loki better than anyone in this building," he pointed at his chest.

"Well, you know him wrong, just like I did! I trusted him and he-"

"He trusted you back! With his own life!"

"No," you sniffed. "He did not. And I see it now. All those nice things he did, all those hugs and gifts. He did all of it so I could trust him more," you turned away from him. "I don't know why he's still keeping up the 'good guy' facade. He knows I found out. Does he really think me so stupid to fall for his trick again?" a tear or two escaped your eyes.

"He doesn't. I have known him his whole life Y/N, he's not that kind of a person. He is genuenly sorry."

"Then why isn't he here? Why isn't he telling me he's sorry? Did he make you fix his mistake?" you asked a little too tetchily.

"Y/N, I-"

"Y/N! My dear, you are up earlier than I expected," Thor's voice came from behind you. The one in front of you, did a facepalm, pain on his face. "It is a nice sight to wake up to," the Thor behind you winked, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the other Thor hiding his face in his big palm.

You turned to the facepalming Thor. "Loki, you nasty bastard!" your hand was twitching to throw still burning kettle at his head as he let the illusion vanish, but you didn't want to scare Rex.

"Y/N, listen to me," he took a stwp forward, you step backward and your lower back hit the counter.

"And why should I?! You lied again! How am I supposed to trust you after all your lies?!"

"Technically I didn't lie, you never asked if I was the real Thor," there was his silvertongue again.

"Fuck you and your sarcasm, Laufeyson," you never wished for a puppy to finish eating more than now. All you wanted to do was pick him up and hide in your room again.

"Whoa, is this about the yelling we heard yesterday?" Thor asked.

"You heard it?" you couldn't have been so loud, could you?

"Yelling yes, topic no."

"Oh, so he didn't boast?" you glared back at the trickster god.

"No, I am a big boy, I can fix my own problems without pouring my heart out to anyone. So to answer your previous question: no, I did not make Thor fix my mistake. And for your second question: I am here now, and I am willing to apologize, even though I did nothing wrong, technically."

"Yeah, technically you only broke my trust and my heart," you took your cup of tea in one hand, put Rex's bowel in the sink and untied his leash with the second hand.

He ran before you and held you by your shoulders. "Technically I was doing what I had to."

"Yes, getting some gold digger drunk and getting in her pants is something you had to do," you tried to walk by him but his grip was firm.

"No, you misunderstood the whole situation. It was part of a mission. She was a mistress of one retired agent of hydra and she allegedly had some useful info. Tony thought that with my charm and silvertongue I could make her give it to us," his eyes seemed to tell the truth.

"And how did your conversation turn to me, huh?"

He sighed. "She saw my lockscreen and asked who was the girl on it. I had to lie. I had to tell her all those filthy lies to convince her I truly want her. My tongue burned the whole time, believe me."

You looked at him, long and hard. A sad chuckle escaped your lips. "You are a master at lying, I give you that. And this one," you slipped from his grasp, "was well thought out."

You ran to your room, leaving both brothers bewildered in the kitchen. When you closed the door behind you and let Rex go off his leash, that's when you broke. You fell down toyour knees and started crying. How could you be so stupid to fall for one of his tricks again?

You felt Rex's little tongue licking salty trials from your cheeks, his wet cold nose nudging your face. He brought you one of his squeeky toys and showed you how to play with them. He was doing anything to cheer you up.

This little guy knew you for only a day and a half and he already loved you with his entire being. The stranger in park was right, dog really is man's bestfriend.

*

You played with your pup. You didn't have enrgy to do anything more productive. He already understood the concept of retrieving and he always came running back to you with any toy you threw him.

When it was time for lunch, you put a leash on Rex and using secret staircases and halls to avoid kitchen and any common areas you got out. On your way to the park you bought yourself something to eat.

Rex smelled the meat in the food and stood up on two legs, begging for a treat. One does not simply resist his puppy eyes.

When you entered through the gate circling the park you spot a big familiar golden retriever. Ollie.

He recognised you and was dragging his owner by his leash towards you. The owner recognised you too. "Hello there, do you remember me?"

"Of course I do. As well as this pretty boy," you patted Ollie on the head. Rex got jealous and instead of greeting a fellow canine he tugged your jean with his tiny needle-like teeth. You scratched him behind his ears. "But of course, you are much prettier boy," as if he understood the praise he puffed his tiny chest and looked very pleased with himself.

"I see you followed my advice," the man pointed at your dog.

"Yeah, and you were right. He did make everything a little better. At times," you smiled sadly.

"Don't worry, time heals everything," he put his hand on your shoulder sympatheticly.

"I hope so," you sighed.

"By the way, seems like we are becoming dog buddies. Wouldn't it be good to know each others' names?" he changed the subject.

"Yeah, I suppose it would," you held out your free hand. "Y/N."

He took it. "Max."

*

You convinced Max to stay out with you as long as he could. You really didn't want to return to Tower anytime soon. You made at least 4 rounds around the enormous park, Rex gave up walking after the thrid one and you had to carry him.

Max told you how he got cheated on in more detail. How it resoluted in a big fight, flying plates and broken bottles. You told him your own situation. You had to change few details, so he wouldn't find out you are an Avenger.

"What do you think Max? Should I trust him?"

"Honestly? I don't know. He did sound like a cool guy until you got to the whole 'gold digger' part. Do you want to trust him?"

Your eyes studied dirt below your boots. "Yes, he was my closest friend. And I miss him. But I can't let myself be his toy again. I don't want him to hurt me," you hugged Rex tighter to your chest and he started licking any piece of skin he could reach, mainly your neck.

"He sounded like he was really sorry. I would try to reason with him and talk to him more, but I can't tell you what to do."

You hummed. Your bag started to buzz. You fished out your phone and looked at the icon. It was blank, but the caller ID was called 'Loki'. You made few changes at night and deleted the old selfie.

"Speak of the devil," you reluctantly picked up. "What do you want?"

"To show you a proof," his voice sounded tired and emotionless. A little hoarse.

"Why are you still trying?" you asked, tiredness evident in your voice too.

"Because I don't want to loose you. Please, just this once. Let me show it to you, and then you are free to leave. For good," he really sounded defeated. If you didn't know better you would run to him and hugged him tightly.

You pondered it a little. It could be another trick. Eventually you gave in. "Fine, I'll be there in 10 to 15 minutes," you hung up and turned towards Max. "I'm sorry, I have to go. It was great talking to you!"

"You too. Good luck!"

*

"This better not be one of your tricks," you entered Bruce's second lab, just as Loki instructed. He was sitting at one of Bruces desks behind a big monitor. "It isn't, trust me."

"That's something that's really hard to do," you glared.

He hid his hurt and pressed play. A video from security cameras was playing. With audio as well. You saw him pouring red wine fro him and the woman. She wasn't blond how you imagined her but the rest of her looked exactly like in your head: plastic.

Few flirts were exchanged and then you heard the part you were already familiar with. Your heart hurt and you felt Rex rub himself on your leg.

He was telling the truth. When she said what they wanted to hear, Loki touched her forhead and she stood up and left as if nothing ever happened.

He turned the video off and turned to you. You didn't know how to react. You were so glad he didn't mean those words he said. But hearing them still hurt.

"Loki, I know what you said wasn't truth, and I really want to trust you again. But..."

He hung his head. "I understand. Being friends with a liar is risky as it is," he stood up and walked toward glass doors.

'Move! Tell him something! Anything! Tell him you're sorry! Tell him you want to be friends again!' your mind screamed at you. You opened your mouth, but no words left it. You felt paralyzed.

Before he could exit completely, he turned towards you and smiled, though his eyes were hollow and wet. "He does deserve the 'best friend' title more than me," his voice broke in the middle of the sentence and left, before you could hear his heart breaking anew.

Part 3?

[mxpseudonym]

Just Good Business

Pairing: Tommy x Reader 

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, feminine clothing descriptions

Summary: You are forced to marry Tommy Shelby, but that doesn’t mean you have to make things easy for him. 

Length: 1671 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Mentions of forced marriage. Otherwise Bad bitch, chaotic energy and some justified (non violent) rage. 

A/N: This was very fun to write! 

Also there’s going to be a NSFW part II because the tension? The sheer sexual tension?? Yeah, it needs to happen. 

Part II

--

Being a bit impossible to pin down is what you're known for, and you liked that. It was your grandmother who taught you how to be difficult. 

When they try to smooth your edges, rip the sandpaper. 

You didn't have a natural place in polite society, your family knew this. But your father wasn't going to let you into the family business, either. So he took your brother, your imbecile of a brother, and let him lead instead. Two years later, you're sitting at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant with your parents, your brother who can't look you in the eye, and two gangsters from Birmingham. You could tell they were gangsters because they smelled like new money, and had guns under their blazers. One was an older woman Polly Shelby, and the other was her nephew, Thomas Shelby. 

You thought it was any other business meeting, but your brother was fidgeting the way he did when you were younger, and he stole your necklace and broke it but didn't want to tell you. He was hiding something big. Luckily for him and unluckily for you, it quickly became abundantly clear. 

"Let's get right to it, we'll settle the debt, put in an accountant who will manage to unfuck you, and take 45% of the resulting profit," Tommy Shelby laid the cards on the table. Your face contorted in confusion. What debt? 

"Alright, it's done," your father said, a quiver in his voice along with relief. 

"What? That's a terrible bargain," you scoffed. The way your mother turned away, her eyes tearing up, and your brother practically quivering beside you. You met the eyes of Polly Shelby, and something about them told you to brace yourself. 

"Is your daughter still upholding the marriage to our dear Thomas?" Polly asked. For a moment, you thought you blacked out. For a moment, you thought you'd forgotten you had a sister. For a moment, you assumed it wasn't the 1920's but the 17-fucking-40's where you may have come with some livestock as well. 

"So this is it, huh? This is why you let me go to Paris with my friends last week, Mum? And why Dad said he'd buy me a car? And why Graham won't stop fucking fidgeting?" You asked, looking to your brother who just grimaced at you. There was no out, and you knew it. 

"Don't make a scene, y/n," your father told you, tired already as if he'd put up some great fight. 

"Well? Are we on?" Polly got us back on track. "I'll need to hear it from her." You looked down at your handbag until you saw the emerald color and not a blinding red.

"You'll take 10% of the resulting profits," you finally said. If you were getting given away, it was going to be at least a good deal. 

"40," the deep, Brummie voice of Thomas Shelby came to the party. Your eyes flicked up to meet his icy blue ones. 

"12."

"35."

"15."

"33%, and you can go to Paris as much as you'd like," he said his final offer with a smirk. If you weren't so fueled by anger, you'd appreciate it.

"18%, I go to Paris as much as I want, and I won't make your life a living hell. Maybe I'll even kiss you goodbye in the morning, my love," you said in the most charming voice you could muster, which wasn't very. He'd never tell you that's when he knew he liked you, but he didn't have to. You landed on an even 25%. You could go to Paris, he'd get his morning goodbye kiss and some peace from time to time, and you'd get a car that was better than anything your father had planned. You shook on it yourself. 

"Welcome to the Shelby's," Polly said when she grasped your hand. You grabbed your bag and turned to Tommy.

"If the car's not a Hispano-Suiza, 2% of that profit comes directly to me," you warned him before walking away.

You should've fucking known that it would be at least partially an adventure. At first, you were mad. You allowed yourself to be easily swayed in the wedding planning, saying yes to the most frivolous things.

"500 bloody pounds for a dress you'll wear once?!" Tommy all but shouted and threw down the receipt on the desk of his office. You sat unnerved in the seat in front of him.

"Once, on the most important day of my life," you said, giving a brief pout and nothing else. Tommy rubbed his chin as he went to refill his glass of whiskey.

"Stubborn, reckless, outlandish even. Sure, you're all of those things. But spoiled? That's a surprise," he said, almost disappointed. You rolled your eyes at his little act. 

"Come off it, Shelby. I have very little in this world, least of all a family I can trust. Everything I do have is about to belong to you because I'm a woman with nothing but familial debt. So don't stand there and lecture me about the rights and wrongs of acting out, Thomas. You and my father only listen to money." You stood and were halfway to the door when Tommy blocked your way. 

"You've threatened to run away if you had to live with your parents, so we've put you in a grand apartment in London. You have your parties there with all your friends. You spend all the money you'd like and more. When will it end?" He asked. You wondered if he actually cared about the stability of your coping mechanisms, or about you. His hand came up to brush your waist. It was all you needed to come back to your senses.  You took a breath and looked up at him.

"Until I'm satisfied," You decided. 

Polly was something between annoyed and amused at you. You were loud, as subtle as a cannon, and possibly more stubborn than her nephew. There wasn't a week that went by where Tommy wasn't talking about something you'd done. 

"Tommy, have you tried going along with something she says?" Polly suggested one day when you'd called not finding a proper wedding venue an "emergency." Tommy leaned back in thought, then picked up the phone. Perhaps his aunt was right... like usual.

"If this is kidnap, it's very ironic," you said as you stumbled along the gravel. Your ridiculous fiancé had taken you to an undisclosed location. Now, the only thing guiding you was Tommy, whose hand was over your eyes. 

"It's not a kidnapping. On the contrary, I've come to take you home," Tommy said before his hand lifted. You blinked the blur away to see a large house. Well, let's call a spade a spade. It was a mansion if you'd ever seen one. 

"Holy hell," you breathed.

"This is Arrow House, Ms. y/l/n. It's got everything you could need and hopefully what you want. Here's a map." He pulled a thick piece of paper from his coat pocket. "Let me know if I've missed anything."

Crying wasn't in your repertoire. Even the events of the past few months hadn't done you in. But, you made an exception and allowed a few to leak while you looked around. You could feel your betrothed’s eyes watching you take it all in, but it didn't matter when the home was breathtaking. When you came back to the foyer, you couldn't help but tweak an eyebrow at Tommy. 

"Have you got a crush on me, Shelby?" You asked, or accused rather. He just chuckled and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door.

"Let's go see the stables."

The wedding was grander than was even sensible. Tommy didn't know how you forged the guest list or who most of these people were, but you told him if he helped you hang drapes, you'd explain your itemized list. Now that was a sight to see. You could only stand it for a bit and did what you usually did at parties. You found quiet place on a balcony overlooking the wedding reception turned memorable party that spilled into the large venue's gardens. 

"Well, we've done it, Mrs. Shelby," Tommy said, walking up from behind you with two champagne glasses. You took one with a broad smile. 

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. I'd have to agree."

"Are you having a good time?"

"Sure, are you? This is your wedding gift," you said, motioning to the crowds.

"And how is that?" He looked over the railing with you. You started pointing people out.

"Over there is the Commissioner and his wife's sister. London police chief over there with his mistress. Lady Catherine Wilcox, one of the most influential socialites in the country, is by the fountain. She's been eyeing Arthur all night too. And so on." You nodded triumphantly. "At those parties I was having in London, I only said good things about you, which is annoying to admit but here we are. Thomas Shelby, your wedding is your introduction to the upper echelon society." He turned and leaned against the railing, and you followed his lead. 

"I guess I owe you a thank you," he said. 

"I’d say so. You’re on several guest lists and incredibly important customer lists now.” You cupped your ear and leaned closer. “Let's hear it.”

"Thank you, y/n." He rolled his eyes, then looked at you with a sigh. "Are you happy, then?" He asked.

"Better, I'm satisfied."

With a clink of your glasses, your relationship could begin. And when Tommy leaned in to kiss you, you didn't pull away. 

"This seems like a crush," were your first words when you parted.

"You're the one who made us late to the ceremony," he pointed out.

"No one even noticed."

"I think they did," he begged to differ. 

"You weren't supposed to come to find me before the wedding. It's bad luck," you tsked Tommy, taking another sip of the bubbling drink, which did nothing to help the heat creeping up your neck. 

"Just had to make sure you didn't run off." He shrugged but moved closer to whisper in your ear. "And I believe, Mrs. Shelby, the dress wasn't even on yet."

"Don't get your hopes up, it meant nothing." You waved it away, not convinced or convincing. Tommy nodded then kissed you again. 

"Right, right. It's just good business." 

--

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor

[katsukisblackteddy]

You Have My Heart...

Word Count: 2.14 k Pronouns: feminine (she/her) Pairings: K. Bakugou x reader Warnings: gore, dark fic ahead, violence, cursing, death

Thanks Marie ( @dailydoseofscenarios​) for letting me be part of the server event! I had a lot of fun writing this, and as you can tell, I took the prompt kinda literally...anyways....I hope you like it! Don’t forget to check out all of the other fics in this event under the server event hashtag!

The ash blonde sat in the oversized red leather arm chair that faced the large window overlooking her garden. He let out a soft sigh, readjusting his position to get more comfortable as he leaned his chin in the palm of his hand. 

“What am I supposed to get her, that she doesn’t already have?” He questioned aloud, his crimson eyes shifting to the side as the large dog beside the chair let out a sigh himself moving into a laying down position, as if to say, I don’t know why you’re asking me. 

“You aren’t very helpful, Khan.” Katsuki muttered, as his eyes focused back on the window, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips at the sight of his beloved wife in the garden below. Khan let out a whine in protest, as a close lipped smile grew on his owner’s face a moment later. “I’ll ask Shitty Hair.” Katsuki stood to his full height, the large black dog standing as well, prepared to follow him.

The ash blonde and his loyal dog walked down the long expanses of hallway, ornately decorated with golden accents, on the way to his private quarters. “Good day, Master Bakugou. Please give my best to the Mistress.” A few servants said as he passed them in the hallway, simply nodding in acknowledgement before he closed the heavy wooden doors to his study.

“Khan get me the ink.” Bakugou stated without looking up from where he was writing, the quill held firmly in his left hand, an almost empty ink well beside the letter he was in the process of writing to his best friend. “Good boy.” He threw the dog a treat as a reward before going back to writing, Khan settling at Bakugou’s feet once more in content silence.

“Dear Shitty Hair, Help me or else. What do I get Big Hair for Valentine’s Day? Come over and help me now. I won’t help you next time with Raccoon Eyes if you don’t help me. Signed, K. Bakugou.” The explosive man read aloud, nodding once before shoving it roughly into an envelope. He scribbled the information down before sealing the expensive stationary with golden wax, pressing the Bakugou Family Crest into the warm wax to leave an imprint.

“You!” Bakugou’s loud voice startled the butler walking past him in the hallway, the man blinking up at his employer nervously. 

“Master Bakugou?”

“I don’t care how you get this to Kirishima, just do it. And get it there by this afternoon.” Bakugou told him before walking away. He didn’t have to tell anyone anything twice, and he liked that.

A number of hours later, one of the servants announced that Kirishima had arrived, while Mina went to the garden to spend time with (y/n). 

“So is there a reason a winded man servant showed up at my door some time ago? You aren’t a father yet...are you?”

The ash blonde scoffed, quickly dismissing the idea with a roll of his eyes. “Fuck no.”

“Well, you aren’t getting any younger...”

“Well, I’m not getting any older either...”

“Don’t counter my point with another point.” Kirishima argued back as Bakugou rolled his eyes and flipped the redhead off with a small smirk.

“Whatever.” Bakugou stated as they both sat down in a chair. “I can’t think of anything to get (y/n) for Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s your anniversary, too right?” Bakugou nodded. “How many years?”

“183.” Bakugou said after a moment in thought. Kirishima stayed quiet as he thought.

“Do you remember how we all met each other?”

“You mean on our wedding night?” The blonde snorted as Kirishima rolled his eyes.

“Well, I guess...but you remember the first time you saw her right?”

“Well yeah, but she was just an extra then...I didn’t even know she was the woman I was going to marry.”

“What did you do? You weren’t an asshole to her, were you?” Bakugou simply glared at Kirishima. “Damn, you were.” Kirishima frowned.

“That’s a lie, Shitty Hair!”

“Whatever, just give her something super unconventional. Mina loves those types of gifts.” 

“Like what?”

“Well, you remember those super exclusive auction seats that we scored a few decades back?”

“Which ones? The Body is Art ones?”

“Yeah...well, I contacted Pierre and he lined up this whole private show and he let me harvest the different pieces...anyways, Mina loved it....We ended up keeping a few things.” Kirishima shrugged.

“How did you contact Pierre? Didn’t he say he hated technology?”

“That just what he tells everyone. He owed me a favor from a while ago. Anyways, the man loves you, I’m sure he’d do it for you in a heartbeat.”

“Whatever.” Katsuki shrugged dismissing the idea, but he would definitely look into it later. “Are you staying for dinner or not?”

“Are you asking?”

“Answer the question, Shitty Hair.”

“Sure!” Kirishima smiled widely, showing off his sharp teeth before the pair of friends decided to join their partners outside in the garden.

“Hey Mina?” (Y/n) questioned, looking over at the pink skinned girl who had her back against a tree. Mina’s eyes focused on her, a kind smile on her face.

“I’ve been thinking of what to get Katsuki for Valentine’s Day...and I want your opinion on it...” (y/n) trailed off, growing slightly nervous that Mina would think the gift was weird or stupid.

“If you wanted to model lingerie for me, you could’ve just said that...though Bakugou wouldn’t care if you were in a sack or lace...have you seen the way he looks at you? How do you not have gremlins...I mean children yet?”

“Mina! Get your head out of the gutter! I’m not modeling lingerie for you...right now at least...and we’re too young for children...”

“You’re 200 years old, but keep lying to yourself.” Mina teased as (y/n) rolled her eyes at one of her best friends, her face still slightly hot from what Mina had said earlier.

“What’s the surprise then? If it isn’t you in new lingerie or a child?”

“So...I thought it would be fun to recreate the night we first met?”

“But you literally just said you weren’t giving him lingerie.”

“Mina! The actual first night we met! Not our wedding day!” (Y/n) laughed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation.

“Oh...the hunt? Ohhhh, the hunt.” Mina’s smile grew wider the longer she thought about it.

“That’s perfect! But the lingerie thing would’ve been nice too.”

“Mina! If you wanna see me in lingerie, then you should’ve just said that.” (Y/n) giggled before further explaining her plans for Valentine’s Day. 

It was the only plan she could think of for the man she had loved for almost all of her life...a man that seemed to have everything he could ever want.

ON VALENTINE’S DAY...

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t have just hired more people to help.” Mina complained while straightening a string of lights. 

“It’s more fun, and besides, all of the girls are back together!” (y/n) commented, gesturing towards all of the girls that were gathered around the room, each hanging different decorations.

“How long has it been since we’ve all been in the same place?” Ururaka questioned with a wistful sigh.

“At least 30 years.” Momo chimed in. “We really do need to see each other more.”

“Then we should have more balls, like we used to.”

“This isn’t a ball, Tsu.” Mina pointed out. “It’s the hunt. You know, like we used to have way back when.”

“Wait a second...where are we getting the prey from?”

“Aren’t you vegetarian?”

“No, Iida and I gave that up like 5 years ago.” Midoriya laughed. “Iida just likes sustainably sourced and organic.”

“Oh come on, you haven’t ever just gone to a night club to pick up a few?” Mina teased as the girls, Midoriya, and Denki laughed. 

“No, that’s so 1960s, Mina.”

“No, that’s date night.” Mina corrects as (y/n)’s face heats up slightly as she laughs.

“We’ve done it a few times...not recently though, we’ve been pretty busy...one of our neighbors called the cops because she thought she saw us doing something suspicious.”

“What were you doing?”

“Well we may have been hiding a body, but that’s besides the point. That old lady should’ve minded her own business. It’d be a shame if she were to suddenly...go missing.” (Y/n) mumbled with a roll of her eyes as they all laughed.

“Alright, everyone go change! We’ll be starting in three hours!” Jirou announced, ushering everyone to different parts of the large castle to change into their special outfits. 

It only took everyone an hour and a half to two hours to get ready, the last hour was spent doing finishing touches and everyone calling their partners to come as a surprise.

“Oi Shitty Girl! What’s the problem? You aren’t hurt are you?” The aggressive blonde questioned quickly, his red eyes gliding over (y/n)’s body as if checking she was ok for himself. 

“Then what’s the problem?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at her as she placed a blindfold over his eyes. “Shitty Girl, what are you doing?”

“Be patient, Katsuki. You’ll like the surprise.” (y/n) said in a teasing voice as she led him into the large ballroom. The sun had just sat and the night sky was dark and littered with stars that could be seen from the windows.

“What’s all of this?” Katsuki questioned, finally removing the black blindfold as he scanned the room, surprised to see all of his friends equally surprised from where they stood with their partners. 

“Surprise! I thought it would be fun to recreate the party that happened the first time we met each other. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“We’re going on a hunt?” Denki questioned excitedly, practically bouncing up and down as Jirou just smiled lightly at his antics.

“Duh.” Jirou mumbled from beside him with a quick roll of her eyes as everyone made their way outside. 

“Ok here’s the rules...and it’s the Valentine’s Day edition! So there’s 20, whichever couple can get the most hearts wins.” Midoriya announced with a large smile on his face. “(y/n) release them, and we’ll give them a minute long head start.”

(y/n) walked over to the where the 20 individuals were lined up single file, metal cuffs around their wrists and longer ones around their ankles. Each one wore a black leather collar with a number from 1 to 20 on it. “You evil bitch! Let me go!”

“Where are your manners, Thomas? You were so good up until now...I wouldn’t want to have to make an example out of you.” (y/n)’s voice was kind and soft, but the look in her eyes was anything but that. 

“Why are you doing this?” Thomas questioned, his blonde hair falling into his light eyes as she stared in fear at the group around him before meeting (y/n)’s eyes once more.

“It’s fun, Thomas.” (y/n) told him, patting him on the head before releasing everyone’s cuffs. “Go ahead...you’re free now.” (y/n) urged as they all just stood there with blank stares. They continued to stand there, looking at each other. “I said go!” (y/n) repeated, her eyes practically glowing in the light of the full moon. The soft light shining against the sharp points of her canine teeth. 

The group of 20 broke off into a sprint, disappearing into the tree line as Iida looked down at his watch. “Is it time yet?” Denki questioned, obviously ready to begin.

“Almost.” Iida replied shortly, a smile growing on his own face as the seconds counted down to zero. “Now!”

Everyone ran after that, disappearing into blurs with the speed they were moving. (y/n) ran with a long spear, the silver tip shining in the moonlight as she jumped forward, releasing the spear into the unsuspecting number 13. 

13 fell to the ground after looking down at the sharp spear poking through his chest. No sound leaving his lips since it had all happened too quickly. “One down!” (y/n) called out, seeing the recognizable flash of blonde that belonged to her husband. 

Katsuki came to a stop beside her, his hands stained red along with his lips. He smiled at her. “Two, actually.” He told her, showing her the heart in one of his hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day...I’ve already given you my heart figuratively, so now I’m giving it to you physically.”

“Aw, that was cute.” (y/n) laughed before accepting the gesture. “You can have mine too.” She added after her laughter died down, picking up the bloody organ from number 13 before holding it out to Bakugou.

Tags:

[jjuzoir]

Overdue | T. Shoto

request: “Hi! If your requests are still open, could I request a todoroki x reader oneshot please? Basically they’re childhood friends and go to UA together. Everyone ships them and Todoroki always treats reader super sweetly, but doesn’t realize that he’s also low-key pining for her. (always using endeavor’s credit cards to get her gifts LOL) eventually Todoroki figures out his feelings and confesses. Then the class catches them kissing in the dorms, making Todoroki and reader flustered! Thanks so much!”

a/n: this took me so long omgjdjsj fck all my reqs for this batch are taking me long :’) anyway thank you for being so patient with me @sugarandsoft ;;;

word count: 2933

When it came to romance it was safe to say Shoto was simply blind to it, the romantic feelings of those around him and himself were practically foreign to the teenager.

In all of your years of knowing him you had never once seen him actually be able to recognize the difference between friendship and crushing. To him there was no “I like you romantically” or “I don’t like you romantically”, it was always “I like you as a friend” or “I don’t like you as a friend”. The whole liking someone, crushing on them, dating-courting thing was as complicated as astrophysics is to an eight year old. Which led to everyone around him to immediately be put in the friendzone the minute they got to know him.

Everyone knew that, especially Class 1-A who had to bear witness to one of their top students crush hopelessly on you without even being aware of it. They knew, other students knew, the teachers knew, your parents knew, his mother knew, the League of Villains knew— everyone knew that Todoroki Shoto of class 1-A has a big, fat crush on you except Todoroki Shoto himself. Hell, it was so obvious All for One could’ve seen he had a crush on you.

It was the “little” thing that gave it away, like using the number-two-pro-hero’s credit card to get you a new phone because yours got a small crack. When confronted about it, he’d always say the same thing.

“She’s my friend and I enjoy using the old man’s money,” he’d scowl at Midoriya— Shoto’s self proclaimed wingman and president of the [Name] x Shoto club, who had questioned his spending habits when it came to you.

“So you'd do the same thing for any friend?” Izuku would push the boy further, he was going to get him to realize he liked you even if it killed him- and by the way the year had been going and Shoto’s complete obliviousness to the situation, the latter seemed more likely.

“I guess.”

“Oh really? Then where the fuck is my new phone, lukewarm? If you’re gonna call me your ‘friend’ where is my phone?” Bakugou questioned him with a snarl.

“Yours isn’t cracked, Bakugou-”

“Is that what it takes? ‘Cause I’m gonna do it!”

“Hey Izuku- what’s going on?” Ochako looked at the trio in front of her, easily being drawn to the loud noises coming from the living area.

“Half-’n-Half over here is gonna buy us new phones if we crack ours.”

“I see…”

“Seriously?” Mina barges into the room to pick up the teasing where the blond has left off, “But I like my phone- oh! I know, instead of a phone why don’t you get me some new sneakers!”

“And if I break my house, would you get me a new one?” The brunette asks, she’d rather shoot her shot or miss trying.

“So- you’re gonna admit you’d only do it for [Name] are you gonna need help placing some orders?” Bakugo smirks at Todoroki.

“Ochako and I can check real estate for you!” Mina giggles.

But rather than answering, the bi-colored haired teen simply looked down and mumbled to himself, annoyed; “I’m not buying anyone anything.”

Safe to say he didn’t keep his word because not a day later and he had bought you a new TV after you joked about getting tired of going down the stairs to the shared living space.

He’d make exceptions for you all the time, always covering it with the excuse of “she’s been my friend for longer”, even when it didn’t make much sense. From his limited physical contact rule to the reckless spending, you had him wrapped around your pinky and he didn’t even know it. Everyone would always tease you two about it yet both of you dense as rock to the implications never really paid them much mind.

But soon Todoroki was confused, really confused, by his peers and their words; they were constantly insinuating that he liked you in a more than friends way. At first it was easier to deny such claims, you were just friends— but the more the pestering continued the more aware he was of the ways his heart seemed to flutter at the mention of your name or how he began noticing how he stared at you more often than the rest.

But he couldn’t like you, you were his first real friend— the only person in his life that was always there, if he did like you and he did act out his alleged feelings there was always the possibility you’d say no. And that scared Todoroki more than he’d like to admit. You, on the other hand, did acknowledge the butterflies he’d bring you and welcomed them with open arms. Knowing your chances with him were slim, you unknowingly turned a blind eye to his behavior, chalking it up to him seeing you as his best friend (as much as it might’ve pained you to think like that).

It didn’t take long for you to notice how he seemed more hesitant around you, how he was shying away from your touch and the way he’d avoid giving you any response longer than two sentences, soon enough he was practically avoiding you altogether, and you were worried. In all of your years being his friend, Shoto had never been so cold and distant with you. Had you upset him? It was a complete 180º from before and it left you wondering why.

“Ugh, he’s just-! I’m so annoyed, Ochako!” You groaned into your pillows, “He's never acted like this before, he’s barely talked to me in weeks! I don’t know what I did or what to do.”

“[Name], it’s okay! He has been pretty off lately,” the brunette patted your back, “You should try talking to him!”

“How am I supposed to talk to him when he barely even lets me get near?”

“Hm, maybe leave him a note!” She suggests, brown eyes looking at you sympathetically.

“A note?” You look up and meet her gaze, “Huh…”

And so you did it, you scribbled down a meeting place and signed it anonymously before huffing, stuffing it in your bag and deciding.

“Dear Todoroki, please meet me in the kitchen after practice. It’s very important, you really need to come!”

Simple, short— straight to the point with little to no wiggle room for interpretation (other than a very insistent and kind of annoying person, but that’s a price to pay for the restoration of your friendship), if he didn’t come you’d simply harass him with more notes until he gave up or had enough to open up a paper store. Hopefully the former because you doubted you’d have enough post-it notes or the money for that many.

“Hmph! That should do,” you rub your hands before throwing a thumbs up at your friend, “Thank Ochako, I owe you big time!”

That morning you told Izuku and Iida about Ochako’s plan and how you hoped they’d make sure Shoto actually came to the meeting place.

“But, don’t you think he might, I don’t know,” the freckled boy scratched at his neck, “Think you’re going-to-confess-or-something?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” You look at Midoriya confused.

“He means that Shoto might think the note might be from someone who wants to declare their feelings for him.” Tenya informs you, maybe a bit too matter of factly for your liking no one likes being talked down to.

“Don’t worry guys, I think a love confession is the farthest thing Shoto will assume this is.” You wave your hands in an attempt to convince them otherwise.

“There is no way this is going to be a confession.” Bi-colored eyes squint at the blonde that walked besides him.

“Look, all I’m saying is this definitely smells like a confession scene to me,” Denki smirks at Todoroki, “The kitchen is a weird place though, maybe they’ve baked you some sweets! Bro, you’re so lucky!”

“You might want to check your nose because there’s simply no way, Kaminari.”

“Why?” Sero smiles as he asks, “You’re pretty popular with girls, why can’t this be another confession?”

“Because,” Shoto snatches the note from the black-haired boy’s hand, “This is [Name]’s handwriting.”

“Wait a minute-! You’re telling me she’s making a move before you?” Kirishima asks in surprise, “I knew you liked her but I had no idea she liked you back, huh. I can kind of see it though.”

“What are you even saying?” The boy in question grumbles, he knew he should’ve gone with Midoiya and Iida but he knew you were going to be there and he didn’t want to risk being a fool. Now he’s got dumb, dumber and the dumbest giving him butterflies by insinuating you like him back, great.

“That she likes you, dude!”

“Totally! And you- you like her back! So all you gotta do now is go accept her confession and stop moping around being all pathetic- ow!” Kaminari rubbed his arm, cursing Kaminari’s strength.

“Don’t say that!”

“Yeah, at least not to his face.”

Todoroki simply rolled his eyes at the boys before hurrying up his pace, today was going to be long as he asks himself if he should really go.

He had a lot to think about, this information was important to him; there’s a chance you like him and the thought made him happy— very, very happy. Just the idea that you might return these feelings, which he’s still trying to come to terms with, just confirms it in his mind that he, Todoroki Shoto, does like you; in a more than friends way. He’s not going to let the chance slip away.

By the time he’s at the meeting spot, he can’t deny that he’s excited even if  his face doesn’t really show it. He had been confessed to many times but this was different because, for the first time, he planned on saying yes.

He heard you approaching, the soft tap of slippers matching the beat of his heart. He liked you, he really did like you and you liked him back.

As you turn around the corner you’re met with a frowning Shoto and are slightly taken aback at his serious expression. You knew he tended to be quite inexpressive sometimes but after a while of not hanging around you can understand why others are off-put by his cold features and intimidating stature.

“Shoto, you’re here.” Even through your shock you still smiled at your friend, relived he’d even shown up with the way he’d been avoiding you. You make your way near the counter, before sitting on top of it, you had chosen the kitchen in case that he'd forgotten about the note but be there anyway getting himself something.

You’d have to be quick before he’d run away,  wanting to get straight to the point and ask him what had been going on. You cared about him and you missed him, you didn’t intend on wasting more time.

“I know it’s sudden but you've been avoiding me all week and I’m sick of it! I really care about you Shoto and you ignoring me like this hurts-!” You stuttered, too caught up in trying to pour out all your feelings at once— accidentally giving him the confirmation he needed that this was indeed a confession.

“It’s okay, I think I know what you mean,” he cuts in, his expression softening, “And I feel the same way too.”

“Huh-? Shoto what are you-?” You look around the room confused, if he knew how you felt then why did he continue avoiding you? Did he even really know what you were talking about?

“I was scared,” he continues paying your previous statement no mind, slowly approaching your sitting form before taking your hand, “that’s why I avoided you but knowing that you feel the same way, makes me happy I guess.”

You blink in confusion, what was he talking about? Neither of you were on the same page, you probably weren’t even in the same chapter, you furrow your eyebrows at the thought.

“Shoto, just to get this straight,” you look into his eyes causing him to blush a soft pink, what the hell was going on, “what feelings are we- uh, talking about?”

First he avoids you like the plague, now he’s blushing and talking about feelings? What did he think this was?

“Like.” He says staring at you in confusion as if you were the one not making sense.

“Like what?”

“Like.” Todoroki looks at you, soft skin creasing at the frown that was now adorning his face.

“Like what, Shoto?”

“Like as in ‘I like you’-like.” He squeezes your hand and you’re thankful you’re sitting down or else you think you’d fallen over at his words.

“Wait, you like me?” At the realization of what you had been just talking about it’s your turn to blush, the blood rushing to your cheeks giving them a soft glow, “You had been avoiding me because you liked me?”

“Well, yes, I just said that,” a pale hand comes to hold your cheek, “[Name], are you feeling alright?”

“You like me?”

He nods, a soft smile in his face as he assures you with a hug;  “I really do”.  This wasn’t the conversation you were expecting but it wasn’t unwelcomed either. In a way, it did answer your question but it left you in a bit of a dilemma because you did like Shoto and he liked you but, now, what did that make both of you?

“Do you like me?” He asked, his hand rubbing your back delicately and a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you remember all the times you’d comforted him when you both were younger. You just nod in fear of your voice giving out and accidentally ruining the moment.

“Are we- uh, dating now?” You ask into his shoulder, the soft smell of his shampoo filling your senses,

“Only if you want to.” He whispers. Neither of you were really physically affectionate with each other before this, at least not since you were little kids, but Shoto had to admit that holding you close like this was nice. Even if it had only been a week or two, you missed him and he missed you a lot and being able to hug you so freely made his heart feel like it was about to burst.

“I’d love to.” You pull away slightly from the hug to face him, your noses touching ever so slightly. You were happy, not only was your relationship with Todoroki restored but it had leveled up and you swore it was as if you were floating.

With hesitant hands he pulls you closer and you close your eyes, he smelt like soft wood and tea and you were reminded of all the times you’d go over to his house where a little Shoto would show you around his room and toys, excited to have a friend his father approved of. You were proud of the way he’d grown, how he’d soften up and learned, how he was able to let go of the anger and grow into himself, you always liked Shoto and to finally be able to be his girlfriend was all you could want right now.

“Can I?” He asked, the whisper soft and delicate in your lips; you nod.

His lips meet yours for a second, a sweet peck that left you giggling into him. You both pull away for a second before kissing once more, it was longer and almost sickeningly sick. You could taste the mint from him and you wondered if he could taste the sweets you had been eating earlier.

But, of course, in class 1-A nothing is really a secret for long and you hear clapping from behind you. Shocked, you both pull away flushed red as your friends are left stifling laughs. The kitchen door is wide open and you can see most of them pilling against the frame with wide eyes.

“Fucking finally, I thought we were gonna graduate before you two got together.” Bakugo is the first to speak.

“I’m surprised they even kissed, I thought it was going to take them another 15 years to get there!” Mina giggles to Ochako who can only nod in amusement, she gives you a thumbs up and you roll your eyes.

“How did you even know we were here? Aren’t you meant to be at practice or something?” You ask them, clutching Shoto’s shirt in an attempt to hide your face.

“Come on, you passed the note to Kaminari and Sero and expected us to not come?”

“I wonder what your kid’s quirk is gonna be like,” Midoriya mumbles into his hand, “Will they get both of Todoroki’s quirks plus [Name]’s?”

“Izuku! Don’t say things like that!” Iida begins scolding the green-head much to both your boyfriend and your amusement, “To say something so suggestive when they’ve only gotten together-!”

“Iida now you’re making it creepy!” Everyone begins grumbling, some annoyed and some laughing at the comments and the once peaceful and romantic atmosphere turns rowdy as everyone starts talking about the newly formed relationship.

“Great now I can’t use the kitchen without thinking about you two making out!” The blonde grumbled before storming out bringing with him a new round of laughs as you and Shoto blush awkwardly.

Safe to say, none of your classmates will ever let you live down how long it took you two to get together.

[sailingintothenight]

“Put your head on my Shoulder.” T.H. Imagine.

Summary: And what if after years of chasing each other like a cat and mouse, on a magical night where you two have to pretend to be a couple, you are finally able to say how you really feel about each other?

A/N: Hello everyone, after a while, and because a couple of people asked me, I wrote the second part of this story, "WANNABE", but you don't have to read it to understand this one. Anyway, I really hope you like it. Please give this story a lot of love. Thank you - V.

Tom Holland hates not being able to hate you.

The secret of his hate is because of your vanity, your selfish and free heart, your tender smile, the dimple that forms on your left cheek and your dreamy eyes that look at your grandfather as if he were the first man that you have ever loved — because you did.

Tom hates you because under a starry night, in the midst of a crowd of people and soothing music, you make your way through the mortals wearing a velvety wine red strapless dress that is lust itself on your body, black boots (velvet too) that cover you up to the knees and are as hot as hell, and your chocker - a gift from your father - from which a cross hangs, that is a tempting invitation for a sinner like him.

You are his angel with a devilish smile: but tonight, Tom Holland hates that, despite possessing all those qualities, and many more, he can only see the tenderness in your eyes when you look at your grandfather, or when you talk about him, and your smile that becomes as adorable as the face you were born with.

“You are like… staring much. Don't you think?" Harrison chuckles beside him, making Tom look away from you and your way of receiving the guests scattered around the place.

"Shit, Tom, if you turned a little faster you would look like the exorcist." Harry continues with the bland jokes, the same ones that make Sam, Harry and Tuwaine smile.

"Shut up." Tom hisses, taking a sip of his beer as he looks back at his group of friends.

But this story is not about you, but about Tom Holland, your lifelong neighbor, who you never had a conversation with other than to annoy each other, who you used to call idiot when nobody but him heard you, who used to laugh at you while filming Avengers: infinity war, endgame and finally, Spider-man: Far From Home, who used to hold your hand when you were kids because your parents were best friends, the same Tom who now drinks and look at you while you warmly greet each guest who has come to celebrate the birthday of the second man you know loved you.

“How is possible that you and he are the only two famous people at this party? What a waste of fame. Sigh." Danielle, your best friend whispers dramatically, just as you both stop at the bar to pick up more drinks.

"I'd feel sorry for you if you actually sighed." You give her a know-it-all smile, one that invites you to earn a playful slap on the butt from her.

"Please baby, I need to get something out of our friendship, otherwise this isn't working." She makes a gesture between her and you, the same sign that a boyfriend would make before breaking up.

"Tom Holland is here, why don't you go meet him?" You joke as you take the tray and walk with her by your side talking about Tom, although he was not news to you two.

"No thanks. But you can't deny that he looks sooo good. Only HE can look adorable and sexy at the same time. With those good boy eyes and wild muscles under his plain white T-shirt. Like Wow." She makes an expression of surprise, and the sound of an explosion as if her head cannot bear so much information that causes you so much laughter. "Seriously, please take that hottie. I'm sure your grandmother sent it to you as a gift."

You giggle, but your heart races at the thought of his breaking, because even though he and Hanna Johnson were never official, maybe he thought they were so. And after breaking up with her, he was back in London.

You suspected that was the reason behind his break.

"I would, but I don't love you as much as you think." You joke, just the moment you get to the table where your dear grandfather and your grandmother's friends, are, talking about you.

With just your young age, the world was a bright place for you, but here you are now, feeling how your best hits in movies escape from your hands like sand thanks to the endless words that spring from between the wrinkled lips of your grandmother's best friends, in the garden of your own house, adorned with crowded wooden tables and Christmas lights shining on you.

"Life goes by so fast, honey, you won't have that hot body for life." Says Mrs. Lee, who, at 89, still plays to be a 20-year-old from time to time. "You are... 24? 25? And you haven't had a single boyfriend yet."

"What do achievements matter if you don't have the most important thing, cutie?" Mrs. Russell asks, clicking her tongue in approval at her own words. “There are so many beautiful boys out there. My granddaughters want to be like you, but what will I tell them if you've never had a taste of real life? You are very innocent and that can work against you. You can have a little more fun while still being a lady, you know?"

Although in your cheeks bloom a crimson glow, you are aware that her words are offensive.

"You could tell the twins that you can be successful without fucking every chocolate-covered hottie that makes you an unseemly proposition." You murmur between tight lips, knowing well that the women in front of you need more than a whisper to hear certain truths. “I mean, you could tell Amy and Anne to work hard if they want to be actresses. The world is sexist, but, hey, here I am - besides, who says I don't have a boyfriend?"

You raise an eyebrow at your own question, winning several curious glances that seem to pierce you, even your grandfather, who stares at you more astonished than anyone.

"Really?" Mrs. Russell smiles, and her red lips gleam in the night. "And who is he?"

"Uh... well... I..." You giggle in a trance thanks to the bitter taste of the liquor that has your mind under a spell, leaving you completely blank and without a coherent response. "He is…"

"Hello, love." Tom presses his body against yours, suddenly, out of nowhere, wrapping his arm around your waist, so firm that you feel the pressure of his rolex in his left hand. "Hello, ladies. I heard you talking about me and I couldn't help but come and save my girl from this sea of ​​questions about who her boyfriend is. You thought I wasn't real, huh? I know my angel here is a little shy about our relationship, but there is no problem, love, you know you can show off what a good boyfriend I am with whoever you want…"

Tom smiles and enchants the older women who smile back at him, as if they are in love with his youth and his face that has it all: his cloud-fluffy brown hair that is combed to the side and back, the sparkle in his gaze and the way he smiles, making the corners of his eyes crinkle, right down to that funny eyebrow that everyone finds adorable.

From his lovely face and well-defined jaw to his personality and strong English accent: Tom looked like an angel from heaven, perhaps the devil himself because how dangerous his charm could be.

"Oh honey, I didn't know you and Tom were dating." Mrs. Lee says, with an expression between happy and sad. "My granddaughters thought they might have a chance with you, darling."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lee." Tom answers, with a hint of happiness and pride in his voice. "I'm already taken and I like it that way."

"Yes!" You say with surprise when Tom gives you a squeeze with the hand that is holding you, shooting you a loving look to encourage you to speak. "I mean... He is."

You smile at the audience, especially at your grandfather and Danielle, who seem to have their suspicions.

"Tom..." Says Roy, your grandfather, who averts his narrowed eyes from your gaze to his, just to become the happiest person in the world as he clasps his hands in a sign of prayer. “I didn't know that you and my darling (Y/N) were together. I'm so happy! I'm sure my beloved Jules is happy too. Couldn't have asked for a better grandson."

"Thank you very much, Roy." Tom says, and it's so natural that he seems sincere. "I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to wait for our relationship to grow stronger."

"Yeah, you know that there are many actresses, blondes and blue eyes actresses who want to eat this hottie." You say and Tom laughs, nervous.

"Well, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to speak to my girlfriend in private for a moment."

Guiding you all the way, you and Tom turn around in the direction of the glass doors of your house that connect to the kitchen, breathing in the warm air from the warm walls the moment you two walk in.

"Good acting, Tom." You smile as you take a grape from the kitchen counter. "Not enough to win an EMMY but-"

"Ha. You are funny. But now I want to talk to you about something…” Tom smiles, too, giving you a devilish look, as if he never rests from it. "You owe me a favor, love."

"Of course not!" You defend yourself, nervous of the sudden change in the conversation. “You came alone like a prince on a horse. I did not call you. I do not owe you anything."

"Are you sure about that?" Tom laughs, as if he really enjoyed the moment. “Because I can go there and tell them the truth. I told you it's pathetic that you've never had a boyfriend. Besides, I wouldn't want to break Roy's heart, he looked so happy to know that his dearest granddaughter is with a good man."

You cross your arms, uneasy with the fact that you've never really fallen in love with someone, while seriously thinking about how happy, and probably relieved, your granddfather is to see that his granddaughter is with someone like Tom, who, despite of everything, yes, was a good boy.

"Okay. What do you want?"

"I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my parents."

You laugh inadvertently, although deep down you want to know if what was being said about Hannah and him was true.

"Why?"

"Everyone thinks Hannah dumped me and I don't want to see myself as a loser in front of my family and have them keep asking questions about her, it's exhausting."

"Eh, too late for that." You sigh, and Tom looks at you hopefully. "You were a loser long time ago, Tom, sorry."

"I hate you." Tom laughs.

"The feeling is mutual." You look away, and in a second you decide to contemplate why agreeing to be his fake girlfriend would be a bad decision, and why you would do it anyway. “Okay, but you know you can't call me darling. And stop looking at my chest, perv."

Tom laughs, looking up your chest into your eyes.

"It's not my fault you have worn that dress, but it seems that despite everything you didn't have a boy's body all this time. Congrats."

"Idiot."

Tom and his dreamy eyes smile as he opens the glass door for you, stepping aside so you can go out onto the field and do the performance of your life, which you discover would be more difficult than you thought as both of you approach the table on the left side of the place, where your family - made up of your mom, your dad and your older brother - are with his. So, in silence, and to let them be the ones to carry out the conversation of your supposed relationship, Tom remains standing next to you, leaving a space between Harry and him for you.

"Oh, yeah. Last night I got the iPad with the script of the Devil all the time." You say, to continue the conversation that your brother Ethan started, smiling at you. "My character falls in love with the poor and broken Arvin Russell."

Tom chuckles.

“And (Y/N) is a cold and rich bi—… girl who treats me like shit until I save her from her dad, the reverend and the crazy couple of rapists. I think you will play that role very well, love." And again and against your will, Tom brings you closer to him placing his arm around your waist, so close that his proximity makes you red.

So much so that you must place a hand on your exposed chest so that his gaze does not fall on that specific place.

“Bet your pretty ass I will. And then we will flee together into the sunset with a happy ending after killing 4 people."

His family and yours are too stunned to say a word, but just at the moment when you think they will shout hallelujah to the sky or to mention you are Frenemies, Dom makes a fist and a victory gesture with a loud yes!

“I told you they would be together before they were 25! pay me!" He yells happily at your dad, who, next to him, grunts as he searches for his wallet in his pants.

“Couldn't you wait until you turned 25, honey? It was only a few months away."

"What the hell?" Tom says, watching your father leave a $100 bill in Dom's hand.

"It's a silly thing they did when they were drunk." Nikki says, as she joins her hands in prayer just like your grandfather, just as happy as he. "It was about time you decided to be together."

"I didn't know that Tom could love someone other than Tessa." Your brother jokes.

"I didn't know anyone could love Tom more than Tessa." Harry jokes, but in his eyes you can see that part of him means it.

"Is this serious?" Your mom says, raising an eyebrow.

"It is." Tom says, and his voice is as solemn as his expression. "Mom, Dad, everyone, I want to marry this woman... someday."

Along with the expressions of happiness and surprise, theirs and yours, your brother breaks the silent while looking like a hawk at Tom.

"Her favorite color?"

"Blue." He answers, without missing a second.

"Favorite book?"

"Jane Austin's Pride & Prejudice."

"Coffee, hot or cold?"

"It depends on the season."

"Seafood?"

"Banned forever."

"Very well, you have my blessing to marry my sister." Your brother nods, like a wise old man, while you, foolishly, think of two things, how quickly he responded, and how well he knew you.

"Just that?" You question, partly offended. "Why better not give him 2 cows for my honor?"

"That's a good idea." Tom responds. "We already have a chicken so..."

You snort just like the idea of Tom buying a chicken just because there were no eggs in the store is spinning in your head, but at that very moment, your words die on your lips as Rose, your aunt and your grandfather's eldest daughter, has taken the command of the party to indicate that the most important thing of the night has arrived: the dance that your grandfather and grandmother used to have, when she was still alive.

Like a fairy tale, every couple in love gathers in the center of the garden while the song “Put your head on my shoulder” by Paul Anka begins to float in the London air that is suddenly flooded with love, to such an extent point that threatens to drown you in it.

"Would you like...?" Tom is nervous, and lets the question hang in the air.

Your breathing becomes agitated, it becomes irregular as your parents and his join the other couples, wild as your heart that beats with the fierceness of a caged animal seeking freedom.

You want to say no, but the crystallized look and happiness that you achieve in your grandfather's eyes are the impulse you need to avoid breaking his heart with the truth.

"Okay."

Tom takes your hand gently and guides you to the makeshift dance floor, placing his hands on your waist to imitate the elders.

Inside and out, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was still as beautiful as the first one he saw you when you were children; but of course, now as adults, everything was different: you were stronger, more mature, more self-confident, wilder and indomitable. But Tom didn't judge your insecurity, he never did, because you had trouble trusting in a future love that could be so real that it seemed a fairy tale - like the ones your father had read to you before bed - as deep as Roy's pain at losing his beloved Jules.

And it is then that Tom realized everything.

That's why you didn't want to be called darling, just because your grandfather used to call his great love that way. Why you never had a boyfriend. Of why you had never wasted your love giving it to someone you knew you would never have a future with, just the way he did with Hannah. Of why you have never been able to give your sincere love to someone else.

Because we're so hopeful at the beginning of things, it seems that there is only one world to gain, nothing to lose, and suddenly, we lose someone whom God knew we deeply love, leaving us with nothing but a void where there must be a beating heart.

And that's when the applause dies down, the silence overwhelms you two, time runs out and life forces you to look into each other's eyes to wonder, without words, why you did the things you did and the things you didn't.

"I'm in love with you."

"Don't."

You say the words at the same time, although they are not the words you expect to hear from the other.

And then you smile sadly, slightly because you no longer have the strength, because your body seems numb from the little alcohol you have drunk and because it seems that the world is leaning to one side with his love confession, but you also smile because Tom still has that adorable face, and a funny eyebrow that you were dying to fix. Just for fun. Just to touch him.

"You're not in love with me, you're just sad about Hannah." You whisper, desperately waiting for the song you have loved for so long to come to an end so you can flee from his arms.

"No, you don't understand, now I can see that it's you, it's always been you." Tom hates himself because he can't put his feelings and his memories into words, but his hands secure you in your place so that you don't leave, not before he can tell you a little of what he was hiding in his mind. “Since we were children I held your hand: in kindergarten, on the way home, to the park around the corner. I don't know why it is now that I can see you, always there in every step of my life, being my best friend even when we said words to annoy each other. I don't know much about love, but I know that it should make you feel good, give you peace, and that's what I feel with you. I feel at home with you, no matter where we are. And we have been in several countries away from home, but you feel like my home. And I am in love with you, and I only ask that you give me the opportunity to love the way you deserve to be loved."

You have a world of words, sharp as a knife, that could kill his confession, but against all, and because this is the first time you feel in love, you lift your hand from his shoulder, a little shaky, to brush your thumb against his brow, soft, delicate and loving, as a lover should be when loving someone for the first time.

"I still hate you."

Tom smiles and you both share a look of hope, staying in the foreground, just to be a participant in the main scene of this beautiful love story that would only be the beginning of a long night in the bright sky of your lives, the one that is like a painting made of watercolors, colors that spill over each other just to create a perfect combination, just like you two together in the eyes of any art lover.

"Not me, no. I love you."

And after that, Tom leans down a bit, feeling the softness of your lips in a real kiss, the first of many to come.

@averyfosterthoughts​ @galaxies-of-the-heart​ @heartofholland​

[mushroom-cartel--writing]

begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

.

.

.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

.

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷̖͂?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

|

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

|

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

[stubbornness-and-spite]

With Friends Like These...

Happy holidays! This is my gift for @sunflowerstalks for the Sanders Sides Gift Exchange @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Thank you @authorgirl0131 for beta reading!

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Remus-typical raunchiness, kissing, mild gore, mildly graphic injuries, mild angst, swearing

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort(emphasis on the comfort)

Characters: Janus, Patton, Roman, Logan, Remus, Virgil

Powers/Magic Focus List: 

Janus- studies potions, has scales on half his body

Patton- fire powers, studies energy manipulation

Remus- witch, studies mind magic

Roman- witch, studies nature magic

Logan- alchemist

Virgil- hedgewitch, studies medicinal magic

Word Count: 5156

Summary: All Janus wanted was to have a nice dinner with Patton, but when you live with a crazy alchemist and a witch with a penchant for dramatics and your boyfriend is literally the hottest person in the room at any given moment, sometimes life gets in the way.

AO3 link in reblog - story continues under the cut

~

“Roman, Logan, I swear to god, if you’ve ruined the dinner I made for Patton in the five minutes I left the room, I will dismember you and use your remains for potions,” Janus snarled at the sight of smoke coming from the kitchen. 

“Ummm,” a voice came from the kitchen. “Roman and Logan didn’t ruin anything?”

Janus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, walking into the kitchen blind, not wanting to see the disaster.

“Hi, Patton,” he said calmly. “You’re here early.” Janus opened his eyes to see a blushing Patton standing in front of a smoking stove.

“Hi, Janus,” Patton chirped. “I missed you!”

Janus sighed fondly, letting go of any pretense of frustration. “What did you do?”

Patton flushed. “I let myself in and saw that the kitchen was empty and the stove was off. I wanted to make sure the food stayed warm, so I tried to heat it up.”

“My stove is not complicated, Patton,” Janus sighed. “You could have just turned it on.”

“Yeah,” Patton admitted. “But I’ve been getting better at heating things myself! So I picked up the pan-”

“And torched dinner,” Janus finished.

“And torched dinner,” Patton agreed.

“Are you two lovebirds done trying to make the scalded remains of that monstrosity romantic?” Roman called from the doorway. Roman was one of Janus’s roommates and had been since their sophomore year of college. They both were suspiciously quiet about their freshman year roommates but no one had ever managed to piece together any of that mystery.

“I called my brother and he said we could go over there for dinner,” Roman said with a smirk. “Something about assuming that between the two of you, something was going to go wrong.”

Patton scowled good-naturedly. “Was that what he meant when he told me to keep my hands to myself when I left earlier?”

Janus slipped a gloved hand into Patton’s. “I assure you, it was not.”

“That wasn’t either,” Roman snapped with a grin, gesturing at their hands. 

“Oh?” Patton asked, his eyes wide with faux innocence. “Did Remus mean I should put my hands on parts of your body that aren’t covered in heat-proof cloth? Because that would be very irresponsible.”

Janus stammered and almost swallowed his tongue as Patton dragged his fingers up Janus’s fire-resistant jacket and hovered them by the jacket’s collar where he could feel the burning heat scalding the wisps of hair on his neck and heating the scales on the left side of his face.

Roman coughed loudly. “I’m going over to Patton, Remus and Virgil’s place. You’re welcome to join me if you aren’t planning to do it in the kitchen. And if you do, make sure that you fully burn whatever you touch.” Roman looked over his shoulder into the hall and called. “Logan! It’s time to go unless you want to be reminded what charred snakeskin smells like!”

Logan coughed awkwardly as he left his room. “I would recommend we all vacate the premises as soon as possible,” he said, avoiding eye contact with all of them. 

“Hi, Logan,” Patton said without turning away from Janus.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied curtly. “I would really recommend we leave quickly.”

Roman groaned. “What did you do this time, nerd?”

Logan flushed. “If we leave now, we won’t have to find out.”

“You want to leave a project without finding out what it does?” Janus asked incredulously, pulling away from Patton with concern. “What did you do?”

Logan’s hand drifted to cradle his right arm. “I had two reactions going at once. They were meant to work in tandem, but one rebounded and now the walls are screaming at me. The effects should subside enough for me to fix it by tomorrow.”

“Logan, take off your shirt,” Roman said firmly. Logan sputtered and stumbled back. “Take off your shirt,” Roman insisted.

Logan scowled and tried to pull his shirt over his head. He hissed in pain as it caught on his right arm. He tugged harder, not moving his arm, until he yanked it off, crying out as it jostled his arm.

“Eve and all her daughters, Logan,” Roman hissed. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day.” Logan’s right arm was mangled, the bone warped and the skin peeling and bubbling like it was being burned.

“I’m fine,” Logan growled. “Everything is intact. When the burning subsides I can fix it.”

Roman stepped over and put his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “You are not trying medical alchemy on yourself. I don’t care if you’ve done it before, you aren’t doing it again. We’re going to see Virgil and Remus and you’re going to let Virgil fix your arm.”

“I can deal with the active reaction,” Janus offered. “I’m not half as good as you, but I should be able to reverse it.”

“I can do it,” Logan insisted.

Janus shook his head. “If you weren’t dealing with a rebound, you probably could. But you are so I’ve got it.” He shrugged. “Besides,” he said, gesturing to the scaled half of his face. “My curse gives me a bit more natural protection than you. If you’re really worried, I’ll have Patton with me to siphon off any excess energy I can’t control.”

“You know I’d do that for you anytime too, right Lo?” Patton asked, frowning at Logan. “It’s a lot safer for me to be a conduit than you and having a living conduit gives you more control over your reactions.”

“I know,” Logan snapped. “I’m the one who’s actually studying alchemy. I’m perfectly capable of controlling my own reactions without your help.”

“Come on,” Roman cut in before anyone could get more heated. “Let’s head over to the others and worry about this later.”

“No,” Logan snarled, “We can worry about this now.” He twisted away from Roman and threw both of his arms down to his sides, ignoring how his mangled arm twitched. “I’m sick of you all thinking I’m incompetent. I make mistakes sometimes, we all do, but I know what I’m doing. I have worked too hard for you all to keep acting like I need you to hold my hands. I don’t need your pity and I don’t need your help.”

Roman lunged forward and grabbed Logan’s right wrist, both of them ignoring the tears welling up in Logan’s eyes. 

“We’re not helping you because we pity you,” Roman growled. “We’re not helping you because we think you aren’t good enough by yourself. We’re helping you because you’re too smart for your own good and you worry us sick with how little you care about your own safety. We’re helping you because just because you can do it alone doesn’t mean that you have to. So please,” he sighed and dropped Logan’s wrist. “Please let us help you.”

Logan stared Roman down for all of three seconds before he dropped his eyes with a sigh, tentatively rubbing his right wrist. “Okay.”

Roman sighed in relief. “Thank you. And I’m sorry about grabbing your wrist. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, Roman,” Logan said softly. “It’s okay.” Logan bit his lip and without thinking, leaned up on his toes and kissed Roman.

Roman’s eyes widened and he froze, Logan’s lips shaking slightly against his. His hands drifted forward of their own accord and threaded into Logan’s hair, pulling him closer. Logan dug his nails into Roman’s back and clung to him for dear life.

After a moment they pulled apart and Roman chucked. “First kiss and I’ve already got you shirtless,” he quipped. He groaned suddenly. “Virgil is going to be so pissed that I kissed you first.”

Logan’s eyes flew open. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “I forgot you were dating Virgil.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Did you miss the part where I said he was going to be pissed that I kissed you first? I mean, if you’re only interested in me that’s fine, but Virgil and I have both been flirting with you for months.”

“Oh.”

“As sweet as this is,” Janus drawled from across the kitchen. “I would like to eat sometime tonight. Perhaps we can continue this with the raccoon actually present?”

Roman blushed. “Come on, let’s go.”

~

Roman, Logan, Patton, and Janus entered Remus, Virgil, and Patton’s apartment with all the grace of a herd of elephants. Remus popped his head out of the kitchen at the sound and grinned when he saw them. 

“I thought I might be seeing you before tomorrow,” he crowed. “Did Pitter-Patton burn Double-D’s dinner or did the Ro-Lo tornado force you over here?”

Patton scowled lightly and swatted at Remus who batted his hand away with an oven mitt. “I burned it,” he said sullenly. “I thought I was getting better.”

“You are,” Remus said with a grin. “I don’t see any ash on you four so I assume the apartment is still standing.” He turned to yell towards the living room. “Hey Virgil, you owe me ten bucks!”

Patton and Roman made identical affronted noises.

“That’s not to say that the Roman and Logan tornado didn’t also force us out,” Janus said dryly. “Patton just managed to burn dinner first.”

“Dammit,” Remus muttered. “Hey Virgil, I also owe you ten bucks!” he called.

“Can we just say we both lost the bet and you should shut the fuck up?” came a muffled shout. “I’m studying!”

“While I am glad to shoulder the blame of any of my dear comrade’s actions,” Roman said with grace. Suddenly, he got a glint in his eye and smirked. “It was mostly Logan!” he yelped.

Logan tried to look intimidating, but his soft grin that hadn’t faded since they’d left the apartment ruined any efforts. So, he rolled his eyes and swatted Roman in the shoulder. 

“Fuck!” Logan shouted, gripping the wall for support, tears welling up in his eyes. He’d smacked Roman with his right arm. His arm felt like it was pulsing along with his heartbeat and he swore he could see bone through his torn skin. Black veins started inching past his damaged forearm and up his bicep. “Oh, what did I do?” Logan hissed, finally managing to catch his breath. He stood up shakily and coughed, straightening his tie.

“My apologies,” he said, coughing to cover up a wince. “You were saying?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Remus cut in, eyes wide. “You need a doctor like now. At least let Virgil look at you if you won’t go to the damn hospital.”

Logan sighed. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine. And Virgil is busy studying.”

“Uh, no, I’m not.” Five sets of eyes swung over to the end of the hall where Virgil was standing, his couch and books abandoned. He flushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, I was pretending to study so Remus would leave me alone and not make me help cook,” he admitted. “That went out the door when you started screaming, L. What the hell happened?”

“My reaction rebounded,” Logan replied stiffly. “Despite my earlier refusal, I… could use some help.”

“Gotcha,” Virgil nodded. He gestured to the living room behind him with his head. “Come in here and lay down. Roman, come help me clear space.”

Roman nodded gravely and scurried into the room to clear off the couch so Logan could lie down right away.

“Left or right?” Virgil asked, digging through his bag and not looking at Logan.

“Right,” Logan replied curtly.

“Okay,” Virgil fell silent for a second. “Put your head closer to me so your right arm is open and your left is against the back of the couch. Roman, get him a pillow.”

Roman grabbed a pillow and Logan settled down on the couch. Meanwhile, Patton, Janus and Remus filed into the kitchen to finish dinner and to give the other three some space.

“Virgil,” Logan said quietly. “Thank you.”

Virgil brushed him off. “Shut up, nerd.” He flipped through a black leatherbound book that looked one wrong look away from falling apart. “Roman, look at me and pay attention.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Virgil scowled. “Look at me. I need you to grab something off of my ‘fuck up’ shelf and if you grab the wrong one and I don’t notice, we could kill him.”

“You never let anyone touch your ‘fuck up’ shelf.” Roman’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah, well,” Virgil muttered, not looking at anyone. “We’re on a time crunch.”

“We aren’t,” Logan protested.

“We are,” Virgil snapped. “Whatever you did didn’t just rebound, it cast something else inside your arm. There’s a good chance that it will eat your arm if I don’t get it out.” Virgil lifted his head and looked at Roman. “Roman, look at me. Go to my room. From the door, there’s a shelf on the left, the left, with bottles. Grab the one labeled “Logan” and the one labeled “Janus” and bring them here without opening them.”

Virgil turned to Logan without watching to see if Roman listened. “Okay, you are going to be completely honest with me about what hurts, how much, and where. I could do so much damage if I don’t take something into account or if I try to fix something that isn’t there.” Virgil knelt by Logan’s side. “What hurts?”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “My forearm is either numb or burning. I can’t tell. My upper arm feels like it’s being stabbed. I’m dizzy and feel like I might throw up but that might be because I kissed Roman and I’m terrified I ruined our friendship.”

Virgil stiffened. “You kissed Roman?”

“Yeah,” Logan admitted. “I kissed Roman.”

“Okay,” Virgil said haltingly. “After I fix your arm, can I kiss you too?”

Logan smiled. “I would like that.”

~

Logan stretched his arm and smiled. “It feels great,” he said. “Better than before.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Because you don’t take care of yourself, L. I don’t like having to use my ‘fuck up’ jars. Don’t make me do it again.”

Roman coughed from his chair across the room. “I have to ask. What is a ‘fuck up’ jar?”

Virgil smirked. “The ones I just used? Fixes for the most likely way each of you will fuck up. Logan’s was a quick fix for a reaction that rebounds. I used Janus’s because it looked like whatever L used for his components mixed with his arm and made a poison. The jars just have standard herbs and components, so I can tweak them to fit whatever actually happens.” He smirked. “The ones on the right are components for hexes, tailored to however each of you would want to fuck someone up.”

Roman gaped. “I see why you didn’t want me to get them confused.”

“Yeah,” Virgil snorted. He shook his head and grinned at Roman. “So, I heard you kissed Logan.”

Roman blushed. “I kissed Logan.”

“Was it good?” Virgil leered, ignoring Logan’s reddening face.

“So good,” Roman teased. “So very good.”

“What about you, L?” Virgil said, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Was kissing my boyfriend good?”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “I would rather not answer that question.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, softening. “How about this one? Can I kiss you?”

Logan sat up and turned to Virgil. “Please.”

~

“So…” Remus drawled. “Anyone wanna guess why they’re taking so long?”

“No,” Janus snapped before that conversation could go anywhere. He was sitting at the kitchen table and scowling. Remus was bustling around the stove, pots and pans bubbling cheerfully, with a pink apron that said ‘I like my butt rubbed and my pork pulled’ on it. Patton had been leaning on the counter, watching Remus, but he walked over to Janus and pulled up a chair next to him.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked.

“I’m fine,” Janus snarled.

Remus snorted without looking at them. “We know you well enough to know you’re not, Jan. What’s wrong?”

Janus huffed. “I hate this. I hate that we always end up here. I hate that I can never do something nice for my boyfriend, that you,” he jabbed a finger at Remus. “Always need to come running in to fix everything.”

“I’m really sorry I ruined your dinner, Janus,” Patton said softly.

Janus scoffed. “Patton, it was shit. I was in the bathroom trying to figure out an excuse to throw it out so we wouldn’t have to eat it before you showed up. I was ready to recruit Roman to just hex the entire kitchen and be done with it. I’m the one who always ruins things.”

“Do you think we care?” Remus cut in. 

“Remus,” Patton chided.

“No, Patton,” Remus pushed. He turned around to face Janus. ���I’m serious. Do you think either of us give a shit if you mess up? I love cooking for you two. I love spending time with you two. I can back off if you want me to, but I like coming in to rescue you. And Patton? Patton adores everything you do. If there was ever a person who genuinely meant ‘it’s the thought that counts,’ it would be Patton. We don’t care if you’re perfect. We lo-” he coughed. “Like you, the way you are, a lot.”

“Yeah,” Patton murmured. “We love you. A lot.”

Remus’s eyes dropped to the floor and he turned back to the stove. 

“Hey, Janus,” Patton said, looking at Remus. “Can you give us a minute?”

Janus blinked. “Um, sure?”

“Okay,” Patton replied absentmindedly. He leaned over and kissed Janus on his scaly cheek. The scales sizzled slightly, but Janus didn’t flinch. 

Janus swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly dry, and stepped out of the kitchen.

~

“Remus,” Patton started.

“Don’t,” Remus said firmly, not looking at Patton. “I’m sorry, okay? He doesn’t know and I won’t push. He loves you and he’s happy.”

“He loves you too,” Patton insisted. “He loves you too and…” he took a breath and steeled himself. “And so do I.” Remus turned around to look at Patton. “We love you too. Remus, you have to know that. You’re with us on ¾ of our dates and you’ve heard us complain about the ones when you aren’t there. We like you, Remus.”

“I like you both,” Remus admitted. “But I like you too much. I’m too much. It’s for the best.”

“Because you feel too intensely?” Patton asked sharply. “So do I. I burn things when I get mad. Janus has to wear gloves because touching me hurts him. We work with it and we will work with you. Do you want us?”

“I want…” Remus breathed. “So much. I want to let J and L experiment on me until I can put my mouth everywhere on you. I want to lick Janus’s scales. I want to never need a blanket again because you’re cuddling me and I’m drowning in my own sweat. I want to find out how Janus’s tongue feels. I want-”

“You,” Patton finished. “I can only make guesses for Janus, but Remus, I want you too.”

“Kiss me?” Remus asked breathlessly. Patton smiled helplessly and pointed at the ceiling, a flame flickering above his finger like a birthday candle. 

“Sorry,” he said.

Remus shook his head, grinning widely. “No, it’s fine. I can’t feel pain right now, so we just have to be quick enough to not do lasting damage.” Patton’s brow furrowed and Remus laughed. “The oil was splattering so I did a quick hypnotic charm on myself so it wouldn’t bother me. It wears off in about an hour; I do them all the time.”

Patton’s pupils went wide. “You,” he breathed. “Are. So. Smart,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss pressed to Remus’s lips. “You’re smart and wonderful and-”

“Hot?” Remus teased.

“So hot,” Patton hissed, grabbing Remus’s neck and pulling him in for a searing kiss. 

~

“We really should talk to Janus,” Remus said, licking his lips for any remaining taste of Patton.

Patton smiled, bemused. “Did you really think I would kiss you without talking to him first? We should but he probably already guessed.”

“Or,” came a voice from the doorway. “He got self-conscious wondering what you two were talking about and came back and decided to enjoy the show.”

“Hi, J,” Remus said quietly.

“Hi, Remus,” Janus responded. “Care to kiss me too?”

“Oh, hell yes,” he hissed, lunging across the room to throw himself into Janus’s arms. Janus caught him by the sides of his face and slammed their mouths together. Remus’s hands flew up to Janus’s and pulled off his gloves, reveling in the feeling of cold scales on his right and a warm, clammy hand on his left.

Remus pulled back for a second, smiling at the small whine that escaped Janus. “I love you,” he whispered, before crashing back into him.

~

By the time the six of them actually sat down to eat, they were all beaming with suspiciously red mouths.

“So,” Remus said with a glint in his eyes. “Are double dates going to be six people now?”

Janus cuffed him upside the head, but the sparkle in his eyes matched Remus’s and he was doing a terrible job of hiding his laugh. He sat down next to Remus and slipped off his gloves to eat. Remus snagged the left glove with a wink and sat down between Janus and Patton, sliding his newly gloved hand under the table.

“Maybe we should swap Janus out for Virgil,” Roman teased, smirking at his brother. 

“Oooo!” Remus cheered gleefully, “I’d take that trade.”

“We’re not trading,” Virgil deadpanned. “Living with these two hazards to society, I would probably die of stress in a week.”

“Oh, you love us, Doctor Gloom,” Roman snapped goodnaturedly.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Doctor Do-the-Most.”

“As much as I would enjoy spending more time with Virgil,” Logan cut in. “I do rather enjoy living with Janus.”

“Relax, Sub-astute Teacher,” Roman groaned with a grin. “We’re not actually swapping roommates. Janus knows too many secrets for me to let him leave.”

“I was almost flattered, but then Roman opened his mouth and I remembered why I should have known better,” Janus deadpanned, not looking at any of them.

“You know you love me,” Roman taunted.

“Really?” Janus said, locking eyes with Roman. “I had thought the fact that your brother’s tongue has been in my mouth would make you less inclined to carry on our sordid affair.”

“But however shall I go on without it?” Roman faked a swoon. “It is the only excitement in my dull and pitiable life!”

“Alas,” Janus cried, swooning as well. “It cannot be, for as I am bound to my loves so are you to the bitchy raccoon who would punch my teeth out if we were ever to be amorous.”

“Bitchy racoon!” Virgil yelped indignantly.

Janus smirked. “You’re the one who assumed I was talking about you.”

“I love that you’re more upset that he called you a bitchy raccoon than that he said he was having an affair with your boyfriend,” Roman said, sitting up with a grin.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, any excuse to punch Janus, but if you two really wanted to, I wouldn’t try and stop you.”

Janus coughed. “Well. This just got uncomfortably honest.”

“Yeah.” Roman winced. 

“Sorry?” Virgil said hesitantly. “I mean, was I supposed to say I’d try to control your love life? Our relationship has never been like that.”

“You do know we’re joking, right?” Janus said suddenly. “I’m not interested in Roman. At all.”

Roman let out an affronted gasp and grinned. “Well, my ego had been irreversibly damaged, but same. Flirting with you is fun but I’m not interested in anything more than that.”

“Well, now I know that.” Virgil muttered.

“Did you really not know they were only joke-flirting?” Logan asked. “Roman doesn’t look at Janus the way he looks at you. Janus doesn’t look at Roman the way he looks at Remus and Patton.”

“How does Janus look at me?” Patton spoke up.

Janus flushed. “You don’t have to answer that-”

“Like you hung the moon,” Logan answered. “He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars, like he’d learn how to hang them himself if it would make you smile.”

“How does he look at me?” Remus mumbled.

“Like looking at the sun,” Logan said without hesitating. “He looks at you like you like everything that is is because of you and if he looked too long he would burn up.”

“Where did that come from?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Logan’s eyes dropped. “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

“Well, now I have to ask,” Roman murmured. “What do you see when you look at me and Virgil? How do you look at us?”

Logan looked up and caught Roman’s eyes like he was the only person in the world. “I see someone who’s not afraid to try, who makes me be not afraid to try. I see someone who could stand next to galaxies and still shine brighter. I see someone was given countless opportunities to be selfish and chose to be kind. I see someone that I could picture myself falling in love with.” 

He turned to Virgil, biting his lip. “I look at you and I see someone who took their fear and made it a strength. I see someone who is loyal to a fault, but strong, stubborn, and determined enough to be loyal anyway. I see someone who I could spend the rest of my life learning and still always find something new that makes you worth knowing. I see someone I could see myself falling in love with.”

“Oh my god,” Roman whispered to Virgil. “He’s perfect.”

Virgil barked a laugh, startled out of his trance. “We already knew that, Princey.”

~

Remus was sitting between Janus and Patton. He hadn’t eaten a bite because both of them had silently grabbed his hands at some point and there was absolutely no way in hell that he was letting go. 

Patton squeezed his hand gently and he melted. Remus had been gone on Janus since about a week after they’d met in freshman year. Janus had sat down next to him in a basic introduction to potions class and immediately started complaining about his roommate. Remus still wasn’t sure if Janus had thought he was Roman and was too embarrassed to admit it after realizing his mistake or if Janus really just walked up to a stranger to complain about his roommate. Remus had, of course, taken his complaints as a challenge, to simultaneously be worse than the roommate and to terrorize the school into assigning Janus a new roommate. Remus liked to believe he had succeeded on both fronts, but considering Janus was now dating him, the first one was probably a failure.

Remus was very okay with being a failure in that particular venture. Janus was amazing.

Then there was Patton. Remus had hated Roman for introducing Patton and Janus because they had fallen for each other hard and fast. The day Janus started wearing heat resistant clothes and gloves everywhere was the day Remus decided that if he ever met Patton, he was going to steal his liver. Then this absolutely adorable little fireball with a smile like the sun waltzes into Remus’s psychology class, asks to sit next to him, and absconds with the remains of Remus’s heart. Remus would do anything for either one of them, including keep his silence. He let times hanging out with one of them become dates he third-wheeled on without saying anything; he made sure they ate and ate well, putting to use the skills he’d learned growing up with busy parents who always had time to make dinner but never time to make anything interesting; he listened to them gush about each other and only cried a little bit after he was alone. He took what they were willing to give him and enjoyed it, because they were happy and he loved seeing them happy; he was happy and it was enough. 

But as always, then there was Patton, who saw too much and couldn’t stand by if he saw someone hurting. Remus was utterly terrified that they were just indulging him, that they felt guilty about his jealousy, but Remus wasn’t noble or chivalrous; he was selfish and, at least for now, he would take.

~

Patton had never been more scared in his life. He squeezed Remus’s hand and practically squealed when Remus squeezed his back. There were so many things that could go wrong, not the least of which was that the two of them would get tired of having a boyfriend that they could barely touch and leave him. Patton adored Janus and had practically swooned when he’d first talked to Remus. They were sweet and wonderful and perfect for each other. If that meant that they weren’t perfect for Patton, then he was pretty sure he loved them enough that he’d rather see them happy. But for now, Janus was smiling at him and Remus was holding his hand and as scared as he was about the future, Patton had never been happier.

~

Janus was feeling a lot of things. Mostly uncomfortable. He was still hung up on the short conversation he’d had with Virgil and Roman when they’d first sat down. It was no secret that Janus and Roman were close. Janus had only met Remus because he’d mixed him up with Roman in his frustration and by the time he’d noticed, he was enjoying Remus’s company. Janus had feelings for Roman, but they had only ever been platonic. Virgil, on the other hand, had been the subject of more romantic fantasies than Janus would care to admit. They’d been friends as kids, close in middle school, drifted apart in high school, and ended up at the same college. Except they’d done more than drift apart in high school. Janus developed a crush on Virgil and like the exceptionally smart 14 year old he was, he’d stopped hanging out with him and started being rude. Virgil eventually blew up on him their sophomore year, screaming painfully specific insults and obscenities in the middle of the cafeteria. They didn’t talk again until Roman tried to introduce them their freshman year of college. It had been awkward and they never really got close again, but they were back on speaking terms. 

It still hurt, hearing Virgil remind him of exactly how badly he’d messed up. ‘Any excuse to punch Janus.’ In Janus’s opinion, any excuse for Virgil to punch Janus was probably fair.

Remus looked over at him, his mouth barely pinched and his brow slightly furrowed. He squeezed Janus’s hand.

Janus smiled and squeezed his hand back. He leaned over and dropped his head onto Remus’s shoulder.

“Love you,” Remus whispered into his hair.

Janus squeezed his hand. “You too.”

~