#been manipulated enough by other people. i don't need more of that shit shoved down my throat thanks

[arsen1cs4ng0]

thing from last night. yeah val is being edgy again sorry about that

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 14

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: And we're back!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

You roll your chair back to your desk and sit, shoulders hunched and head down, focused on your screen. You're too embarrassed to discern any of the cells on numbers inside. Your cheeks and nape are alight with self-awareness.

"That was entertaining," Shari remarks as the wheels of her chair squeak.

"Don't…" you mutter as you click aimlessly.

You can't believe what's just happened. You're humiliated. That must be Colin's goal. To tear you down not just in your own home but every part of your life.

You hear whispers, lowered voices, and clearing throats. Your ears prick as you're certain that they're all talking about you, about the dramatic scene that just unfolded. And how could they not, it's always more enjoyable to be in the audience than the show.

Your teams bings with a new message. You tap the key to mute your PC and open the chat window. You nibble your cheek as you read Jonathan's message.

"We will discuss shortly. Take five if you need."

Shit, shit. This is it. You're going to be fired. You know it. Why wouldn't you be? You've brought your chaos to work with you.

You minimize the window without responding and go back to your mortifying trance. You sit and stare at the blur of lines, only realising as a tears breaks free that you're about to fall apart completely. What did you do to deserve this?

Not just Colin, but Jonathan. You're too nice for your own good. From now on, you should just commit yourself to a recluse lifestyle.

Another message pops up, the red dot taunting you to open your teams. But it isn't what you expect. It's a new conversation, from the district officer. Oh, oh god.

You muster what little courage your possess and click the chat. You read the message slow, several time over to make it register. You're in trouble, a lot of trouble.

'I have been informed of today's events and have spoken with Mr. Pine. I expect you to find a quiet place for our call in fifteen minutes.'

You lean back, dizzy and breathless. Your chest is so tight you fear you might be going into arrest. Oh, shit!

"You okay?" Shari looks over from her cubicle.

You gulp and let out a gurgly 'mhmm.' You grab your phone and shove yourself out of the rolling chair. You scurry away without explanation and clumsily find your way to the employee bathroom, checking the stalls before locking the door.

You set your phone on the counter. If you'd just ignored it, none of this would've happened. It's your fault. All of it. You need to learn to read boundaries but set them too. You lost sight of them with Colin and didn't have enough with Jonathan. 

Your phone lights up. Jonathan. Of course, he'll want to speak. Does he know about your meeting? You'll wait until you know if you still have a job to speak with him.

You look at yourself in the mirror and try to shake off your nerves. That pit in your gut tells you exactly how this is going to go. Well, you can at least be brave and face the end.

You swipe away the notifications without reading them. You sign into your work account on Teams and let yourself out of the bathroom. Lucy scowls just outside and you give her a sheepish look before fleeing.

You find an empty conference room along the next corridor and check the schedule hung beside the door. You jot in your name and let yourself in. You hunker down at the desk, gathering the last of your wits. This day just doesn't want to end.

If you had just kept it all inside, if you had just got over it, if you had avoided your overly interested boss, you could be going home in an hour with nothing more than a pan of frozen lasagna on your mind. That's not how it goes. As always, it must end in disaster. Just like that boy you thought you loved in high school, the one who never saw you against the wall, not until he wanted a laugh.

You take a breath and prop up your phone against a pen cup. You stare at the time, waiting as the meeting invite hovers before you. You tap it a few minutes before it's scheduled and sit in the waiting room. Dread rises to suffocate you, taking the air out of you as you prepare for the worst. You've always been good at that, you've come to expect it.

Tina Cazera, the District Officer, appears in her flawless contour on the other end of the call. You sit up and try not to let your doom burn through. You can't even smile, you're like a guilty dog, wagging its tail meekly in the corner. Two other squares appear on the screen as more members join the chat. You refuse to look at the bottom frame where Jonathan sits before the backdrop of his office. 

"Alright," Tina begins, "I have invited Jeff, our HR representative to attend today to supervise this discussion. He will be documenting this meeting to make sure that we meet all policies and standards."

You nod and Jonathan grumbles his reluctant consent. You thought he'd already be talked to. You clutch your hands together tightly in your lap and push your shoulders back.

"So, I've spoken with Mr. Pine about today's episode but I think it's only fair to get everyone's story, and it would be required for the incident report," she explains, "so, you have the floor, miss, please explain what occurred today in the office."

You swallow and part your lips. How do you explain this without it all seeming insane? You close your eyes and concentrate, flicking your lashes up as you focus on the margin of the chat.

"I was working at my desk..." your mouth is dry, painfully so, "and my neighbour arrived and had an outburst. I understand that it was inappropriate but I didn't invite him there or even encourage him. I can't explain why he showed up but when he did, he said some things and Mr. Pine arrived and they... er... they got into it."

"Alright, let's go back, what were these things your neighbour, the trespasser, said?" Tina prompts.

"He... He just suggested that I... have an inappropriate relationship with Mr. Pine, but I... I don't. I didn't do anything--"

"He's been harassing the woman," Jonathan adds.

"Mr. Pine, you've had your say," Tina dismisses, "why would these accusations be made?"

You shrug. What can you say that won't immediately put you in it? You stayed over at Jonathan's and then he stayed at yours. Nothing happened but who would believe that? Especially when people like Shari could interpret your friendliness as more.

"I don't know. Like Mr. Pine says, my neighbour has been... bothering me and--"

"And how would Mr. Pine know that?"

"Well, I mentioned it," your lip trembles through your lies. Not exactly false, but some information withheld.

"You mentioned it amid what, a budget meeting?" She challenges and clears her throat. "We've evaluated this situation and we're already dealing with enough fallout from your previous boss' mistakes and in our review. We cannot afford another controversy."

You squeeze your hands, digging your nails into your nails. You frown and stare at your pathetic expression in the frame. You suck your lip in and shake your head.

"So, we've assessed the risk and the cost of this...unfortunate occurrence. We cannot afford to lose Mr. Pine. He has shown himself an asset to this company and has the credentials that would warrant only a slap on the wrist. But as you welcomed this into the workplace and have continually crossed professional lines, we would ask that you take a leave until we the ethics board can thoroughly evaluate."

"Leave?"

"Unpaid," she affirms, "effective immediately."

"What?" Jonathan hisses, "this wasn't her. It was that man--"

"Mr. Pine, please, you would only dig the hole deeper," Tina warns, "we recommend you clock out and go home, miss."

You're speechless. You expected it and yet it's still a punch in the gut. You can only nod and eke out, "yes, ma'am."

You dare to look at Jonathan, his forehead ripples with discontent as his lips thin. The call ends just as his eyes seem to meet yours and you're left in deafening silence. What are you going to do now?

💗

You wait until you're certain everyone else is gone. You can't bear to face them or your shame. You can just imagine Shari smirking at you.

When you do emerge, it's an hour after your usual time out. You creep over to your desk and sign out. You pack up your bag and keep your phone in your pocket. You've had enough trouble.

"Ah, there you are," Jonathan's timbre halts you as you head for the door. You pause and blow a deep breath out before you face him, "I was waiting to make sure you had a way home–"

"Yep, the bus," you cross your arms.

His brow arches and his lips twitch, "now, you know you shouldn't–"

"I shouldn't have let you help me so much. I should've taken care of myself and now, now I don't have a job-"

"It is only a leave," he counters.

"Easy for you to say. What am I gonna do without a pay cheque?" You stop and pinch the bridge of your nose, "don't answer that. Just like everything else, it's not your problem."

"Darling, I did try to plead your case. I assured them it was not anything you asked for," he strides past the other cubicles. You back away and adjust your bag, "you can't be mad at me, I can help–"

"You've helped enough," you throw your hands up, "I don't need it. Okay? I'm not as pathetic as you think I am."

"I never– I don't think that," he sputters, "surely, you must realise I think more of you than that."

"I don't know. I don't. I just need to be alone," you spin and storm towards the elevator.

"Wait, but what about Colin–"

"I'll deal," you swallow, stomach flipping as you recall the pictures he sent of your trashed apartment, "I am none of your concern."

"I am very concerned," he follows you.

You push the button to call the elevator and he turns, stretching his arm across the metal doors, blocking you. You huff and look away. You cluck then turn to stomp towards the stairs.

"He will be waiting for you–"

"And?" You hurl over your shoulder, "maybe he's what I deserve."

"You cannot–"

"You are not my boss anymore," you twist around to face him once again, "got it? I quit. I've caused enough problems. It's over. Just leave it."

He flinches, hurt painted across his features. You sniff and back away, pivoting slowly to push through the door to the stairs. He calls your name but you don't react, grabbing onto the railing and hurtling down the stairs

You don't need these men. They just bring problems. You're better off alone. You should've realised that earlier.

💗

Another nasty surprise greets you at your front door. To your relief, it's still on its hinges with some scratches around the handle from Colin's intrusion but intact. Across the wood is carved a single word; slut. You sigh and quickly hide yourself inside.

You realise only too late that you don't know if he's inside. The eerie silence of the building piques your suspicions. You keep a hold of your keys and flip on the light.

The place is tossed upside down. You can barely take a step without meeting a broken shard of glass or a torn page. Dishes, books, and other possessions litter the floor.

You make your way warily across the front room. This is what you're left with. No job, no friends, and soon, you won't even have this dump.

You grab the broom and continue up the hallway to your room. Nothing there or in the bathroom. No monster lurking under the bed or in the closet.

That can't be it. He ran into your work and made a scene, fought your boss. You know that's not it.

You go back into the front room and check the lock. It still works. That doesn't make you feel much better. If he got in once, he could get in again. 

You're startled by a sudden banging on the other side of the door. Your heart hammers along with it and you peer through the peephole. Ally snarls back at you.

You center yourself as best you can and slide the chain into place before you open the door. Ally pushes from the other side as you keep your toe against the bottom. You don't even know where to start.

"Are you fucking happy?!" She hollers, "he's gone!"

"Wh-what?" You stammer.

"They fucking arrested him you fucking loser."

"I don't know–"

"I should drag you! He's spending the night in jail because you just had to get him worked up," she hits the door with her fist.

"Wha–" you blink in exasperation. "He– he did it. I didn't call the police. I don't even–"

"Whatever. You're full of excuses. You've always been so fucking lame," she blows a raspberry at you, "if I see you, don't say hi."

She kicks the door and yelps. She rolls her eyes and sneers, marching away with a limp and disappearing into her own apartment. You shake your head, confused but reassured that Colin's locked up. At least that's what it sounds like.

You close the door and twist the latch. You slide your phone from your pocket and search for a playlist. You'll be up cleaning all night. It should keep you from acknowledging the missed calls from Jonathan.

[uzutsagi]

A while ago I tried to amend my problems with a bunch of now deleted posts from a long ass time ago.

I'm now making a SECOND amendment post to the last amendment post that I now deleted, because I finally figured out how to word myself better. Why was it difficult to? I think sometimes, you get me writing some really confusing, hard to understand sentences- and then other times I think I just write in a way that gets the whole ass idea wrong, whether it's the intention of apology, or if I made presumptions and contradictions where I was trying not to. So I'm gonna write about the subject again, directly and as clearly as possible.

I've had a human being, who will not be named, side with another human being who both knew me very well in high school. Something happened where I was being eerily approached by both of them, but this male ex-friend was not as obvious to me as the girl was. He seemed to be interested in making a game, but after a while I started thinking this was a lot of talking and talking where nothing about me was getting friendship out of this and a lot of the energy and positivity I (used to) have to bring was just front loaded onto his table every conversation.

I did say friendship would have been a good positive thing in my life just now, but the thing is, the more I look back on it the more I feel absolutely sure that this guy tried to do some weird "groomer" tactics that he seemed to have pulled on other people, i.e. a girl who had said "he ruined her life" for some reason, and was a weird thing for her say.

Now, I'm not about to say much on the topic of who he is, what he does, dialogue between us, etc....All I can say is that, there seems to be a lot of incontrovertible proof that he's been stalking my art, my profiles, etc. Because when the other friend, the girl, came around, she was saying all sorts of weird shit to me from the get go, and I don't really know why she had really strange timing on a lot of it.

Now don't get me wrong; hacking, not necessarily a thing I could prove, so I wouldn't tell you this, but every time I did something around the house, she had a crazy "skill" of knowing exactly what it was, and sometimes if I was intimating to myself (in other words, confiding aloud) things that I was upset about, she'd then start saying stuff almost to press my buttons on the very exact things I started talking about, the day of, or not long afterwards. One time seems fair enough, but many times, and I started thinking this was getting creepy. So fast forward to a day when she sends me a really insulting message about "how I don't go out and be an adult", and I start getting really clammy vibes from her tone of voice.

Without going on too much, it turns out she was pretending to not know about being in confidance of Zyrol- the guy, and trying to play an idea up like it was worth following up on his art. I didn't want anything to do with Zyrol after our prior conversations already seemed annoying, even less since I started noticing he was manipulative. But the day I blocked Maryam, she decided to skedaddle, while Zyrol's profiles on instagram did the same.

I'm just saying something kind of troubling, here...

Zyrol provably stalks people he wishes to bring back into his life eventually, and they probably don't want to work on a stupid game like that. And it was like hearing two different voices from people who (I honestly only think) want to talk me into being their waifu and (im sure) lower rung "power artist" just very discreetly, and for Maryam, she seemed to be putting bubbles in my sails, but then what I believe was trying to "draw me into" whatever worldview Zyrol might have wanted to shove down my throat. She started off saying how much she admired me and confessing she had no idea how to make friends, to saying put downs like, you don't understand people at all (Zyrol), and that's why you need to leave the house. (So saying like, "you don't know what you're doing, and slowly posit me like I'm the only real example of what to do.") It sounds like what I just said about the grooming and trust imbalance.

My point being is this: what social media teaches me is that just about anyone you know in your life is never automatically trustworthy. One day, they can just choose to shmooze you, then the next they've done things to pull you in line, where you were never asking for that.

Thankfully speaking, the only good part is that I stopped Maryam with her twisted fucking advice before I bothered speaking to her any longer. I never answered her long, drawn out questions about stuff I didn't want to, and I'm glad I didn't force myself to.

Additionally, in a prior post I had mentioned before, I deleted it due to it being very confusing but the basic idea of it was this: they've been doing weird, criminal things, and as it seems, I've talked to them in very harsh tones even tagging up Maryam's u/n and saying she was the R word, all that, which only makes me sad mostly for myself because I can remember how bad all the poison in me felt before I started letting it out and feeling better.

It's almost like the worser the viewpoint in life the more you'll carry so much more toxin, until I started really front loading on so many people about what I was carrying, and to be honest with you I don't even know what to do with it. So I've been chillin' and vibin', whatever, and I've never been that good at coping with attention of any form but now I do a lot better.

It's not who I was years ago. It's all the damage and poison I've been taking in since the year covid started. Maybe you might think this is weird, but nothing good ever came of me when I was 27, either. But I'm about to never speak of that ever again.

[velvett-tearss]

Checkmate — Eren Jaeger

summary: A vicious cycle where you and Eren fight over who gets to light the match while dousing each other in gasoline.

warnings: toxic relationship, manipulation, domestic altercation, slut-shaming, gaslighting, cheating, heavy cursing, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol and marijuana use, fem!reader (she/her)

genre: modern au, angst (?)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: my venus scorpio hates to love Eren lmao pls don’t think this is a healthy relationship, (lmk if i forgot any other warnings pls), this was on repeat while i wrote, hope you enjoy it <3 (again, pls lmk if I missed anything!) and stay safe!

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it anymore, you knew that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you had.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

He didn't worry about feelings, responsibilities, or duty. He didn't care if he came back later than he said he would you, if he left you waiting in that pretty dress you had picked out just for him.

And, you loathed that about him. You loathed that Eren Jaeger was free. Totally and utterly free of everything and anything. Nothing would hold him back. He wouldn't allow it to come to pass.

He had his freedom, but you had something else.

You questioned things when you weren't satisfied with the answer you had been given. You did things just to see what would happen after. You pushed people just to see how long it would take from them to fall over the edge.

You had often been told you were simply too much to deal with. That you pushed people's buttons until they no longer wanted to be around you. That you stole parts of their sanity until they had no choice other than to run away.

But, you never saw it like that. You didn't mean to be a parasite who ate away at people's peace and patience. You simply liked testing your boundaries.

So, you preferred the word curious.

Maybe Eren had been walking around the earth without shackles his entire life, but you knew everyone was a prisoner to something, even someone like him.

Naturally, you wanted to see what it would take for Eren to break. He was so shameless, so completely free of any care in the world. Eren obeyed his own rules and his alone. He was such an inconsistent asshole half the time, but you couldn't help yourself.

You wouldn't forgive yourself if you had looked away from that charming smile and those pretty teal eyes.

Despite the facade of him being a simple-minded person, you found out what was truly hiding underneath the mask.

Eren was intemperate with a sharp tongue and a loud mouth. He did things his way, and there would be no other option. There was such a mix of emotions boiling inside him, it was like it was asking to be disrupted.

How could you not indulge yourself?

You knew it would be gratifying to see how he would react when backed into a corner. Would he cry like the others? Would he fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness? Or, would he shut down?

How long would it take for him to leave you?

Eren was already known to be hot-headed, and you wondered what it was like to burn. You figured it wouldn't take long to find out how far you could push him. He was the crybaby type, so you didn't think he would be hard to crack.

But, he wasn't like the others.

See, Eren Jaeger wasn't a person who would easily crack. He wasn't the guy who gave up under pressure. In fact, he was the complete opposite. He was a fighter, and he would stop at nothing till victory was his.

It was only too bad for him that you were the same. Your thirst would only be quenched when you saw him break. You needed it more than you had ever needed anything.

You pushed, and he pushed harder. You shouted, and he shouted louder. You bitched and moaned and complained and did awful things to him, and Eren did them right back.

It was an endless cycle between the two of you.

You would do something to tick him off. Maybe it was telling him how Jean looked so sexy in black or how Armin's intelligence was out of this world you didn't know how he wasn't dating anyone.

Perhaps you were a parasite who ate away at your own liberty to do what you wished. You stretched yourself to push him into a corner, and it always worked.

Whatever it was, Eren would explode on you. You knew it pushed his buttons, it fucked with his mind, and that's why you did it. Because maybe it would be the day he finally gave in to the pain you inflicted on him and leave you for good.

Sometimes it would be him doing something that rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you wore something too short, so he called you a whore before fucking you like one. Or, he didn't answer your texts all night because he was with God-knows-who.

You shouted at him, called him all sorts of different names, and even trashed his apartment if you felt like it. Eren would fight with you, blame you for pushing him far enough as to dip a toe in the unforgiving pool of infidelity, and the two of you wouldn't speak for a week or so.

"I can't even walk around my own damn apartment without you being so annoying!" Eren shouted with so much force you held back a flinch. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, green eyes wondering about the room.

You didn't know if he was shit-faced, high, or a mix of both. You didn't care anymore. It seemed like you had been arguing for hours, but who really knew? All perception of time was lost on you when you were around Eren.

All this started because he asked you to stay the night at his apartment. He usually preferred to go out and have some fun around town, but this was his way of making it up to you for leaving you stranded at the restaurant on your last date.

Well, it was a way for the both of you to make up with each other. Before Eren decided to steal your phone and drive away without you, the waiter serving you had left his number for you. It was only the consequence of your actions earlier that night.

You spent most of the evening flirting with him every chance you got. Batting your eyelashes at him, leaning against the table the slightest so he could get a peak of the dainty little necklace that sat pretty on your cleavage.

He wasn't even that attractive, really — you and Eren both knew that — but he still let his emotions get the best of him. If there was one thing you could trust to be consistent it was his red-hot anger.

"Don't leave when I'm talking to you!" Eren ordered, green eyes blazing hard at the back of your head. He watched you walked around the house, following you to continue your argument. "What? You're gonna go and cry like a little bitch now?"

"Why can't you leave me alone, Eren?!" you screamed, grabbing your sweater and shoving it into your bag. You turned around only to find him inches from your face. "I'm not staying here if you're gonna be a dick!"

He let out a dry chuckle as you continued gathering your things. "What a perfect fucking excuse to go fuck that jerk in your class, right?" Eren hissed, reaching to grab your arm. "Gosh, can't you ever just keep your legs closed for a night?!"

"Keep my legs closed?!" you shot back, shoving him away from you. "You're the one who's been out doing who-knows-what, Eren! You're the one who comes home with lipstick stains from whichever whore you fucked!"

"You shouldn't talk about your friends like that."

You snapped your neck to him.

His face was stony with his jaw clenched, and his hands balled up in fists. None of those things frightened you, though; it was those eyes of him. Those pretty green eyes that had once stared at you so sweetly, so lovingly long ago.

Now, all you could see were glaciers in his irises.

You swallowed down the thick lump in your throat. "You are such a fucking dick." you declared, averting your gaze from his cold one. You advanced to the door, but he caught your arm in his grip again.

"Let go of me." you ordered, attempting to pry his hand off your arm, but he wouldn't budge. "Fuck, Eren. Are you fucking stupid and deaf? I said—"

Your voice got caught in your throat when he shoved you against the wall of his bedroom. He had you caged in, one hand pinning you to the wall and the other right beside you.

It seemed like Eren learned from the last time he tried to keep you from escaping. His last efforts of getting you to stay put were always futile, and you somehow still managed to break away every time.

He always tried to grab you a second time, but you left his cheek with a bright red outline of your palm, smacking him good and hard before leaving his apartment in a fray.

None of your past escapes mattered right now, so you continued squirming around in effort to release yourself from his iron clutch. "Wow, I guess you're not as stupid as you look." you scoffed, your other hand clawing at his.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren ordered, but you continued your attempts to leave that were only feeble against his strength.

"Why don't you go with your other girlfriends, hmm?" You scoffed, reaching for his wrist and struggling to release your arm. "Tch, Eren, you're fucking hurting me. Stop—"

He brought you towards him, pulling you into his arms. You let out a grunt of disapproval as you tried to shimmy out of his crushing hug. "Oh, my gosh, let me go! I don't want you!" you protested, pushing your hand against his hard chest to create space between you, but he thrusted you back into his chest.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren murmured into your ear. He had one hand wrapped around your upper back, keeping you close to him, while the other held your wrist tightly to stop you from pushing him away.

His shirt still smelled like the cologne you gifted him for his last birthday. Eren was extra kind to you that day, holding your hand and giving you kisses on the cheek.

The fresh scent was familiar on your nose. You breathed it in, allowing yourself to give in to his touch. "I'm not a bitch." you told him, closing your eyes. You hoped it would help you travel back in time to that beautiful spring day.

He only grunted in response, leaning his head against the top of yours. You felt the slight brush of air down your neck when he let out a sigh. The hand that held your wrist released it, finding purchase on your waist.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Eren's fingers found solace in the ends of your hair. You hadn't realized how much his words affected you until you felt your hair twirl around his fingers.

Did he really think you were a bitch? Is that why as much as you loved his cologne, you could still smell the unfamiliar scent of someone else on him?

If he cared about you, why would he leave you alone in his messy apartment all night? Why would he even bother inviting you? Why did he make an effort to speak to you so lovely that your heart fluttered?

"I just wanted to have a nice time with my girl, and you're making that so difficult. Why?" Eren questioned softly, a strand of your hair between his fingers. "Why do you go out of your way to do shit that irritates me?"

Tears prickled your eyes. "I could ask you the same thing." you replied, holding back the urge to sniffle. How could you not cry when he hurt you? You loved him with so much of yourself, and everything he did seemed like it was just to cause you harm.

"You're so mean to me, Eren. You never treat me like you should."

"I know." he said, the movement of his mouth against your head. "I don't mean to treat you like that, baby. I'm sorry. I really am." You didn't believe him, though. You didn't even want to look into his eyes because you feared you would be right.

You let out a sigh, wiping the tear that escaped the corner of your eye on his shirt. "You're bad for me, Eren." you stated, turning your head to rest against his shoulder. "You're a bad guy and a bad boyfriend. You cheat on me and call my names, and you make me cry."

Eren hummed, rubbing your back in circles. "I'll be better. I'll try harder this time." he offered, his tone almost sounding pleading on your ears. "I promise I'll do better for you."

You didn't believe it. Eren couldn't do better. He was sick with an incurable disease. He no longer felt safe in his own body. He couldn't trust his thoughts to lead him to the correct answer. It all started when he met you, and your infection spread throughout his entire system.

You had infiltrated his way of thinking and acting, his way of feeling and speaking. Eren Jaeger would never be the same person he was before he met you.

He couldn't hide his disdain when he was around his friends, not with all the remarks you made of them. Did you really think Jean was better looking than him? Was it his hair?

Maybe he should start spending more time in the library. Would that make him him look smarter in your eyes? Would you come to him for help with your homework or would you still go to Armin?

And, it was in your silence that his questions of doubt were answered. "You don't believe me." Eren stated as if he were reading the very thoughts from your mind.

A bolt of lightning shot through your spine at his tone. This was the side of your boyfriend you hadn't quite figured out yet. He could loving and playful and crack jokes all day, and mean and standoffish where he wouldn’t even look at you, but he could also be fucking sadist.

His fist curled into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back to meet his gaze. There was a sharp ache pounding on the back of your head, but you forgot all about it when you saw the slight curl of his lip.

"No one else would put up with you. You know that, don't you?" Eren asked you, green eyes appearing darker than they ever had. "You know no one would ever give you the time of day like I do."

"I know." you managed to tell him, leaning into where he gripped your hair to ease the pain you felt.

"Do you?" he questioned, raising a brow.

You tried your best to keep the hammering of your heart against your chest from showing on your face. Eren may have been a sadist, but he wasn't the only one.

"Yes, Eren." you stated, deciding to take a risk and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. You felt him tense under your touch. "You misunderstand me. I only what what's best for you and me. That's all I ever wanted."

He furrowed a brow at your words.

Sure, you would admit that Eren had power over you. He was stronger than you, taller than you, quicker than you. He was the one who had your back against a wall, and it was your hair in his fist.

But, you had something he didn't. You honed the skill he wouldn't be able to polish for years to come. He may have been overly aggressive and carried the ability to make an environment where he would always be the person with the most power, but you had experience.

And, that was something he couldn’t create.

"I've done so much for you, Eren. Why would I go through all this struggle if I didn't want to be with you?" you explained, forcing a pout on your lips. "Is that how you feel about me?"

His grip on your head began to loosen. "No," Eren forced out, eyebrows so scrunched forward they lost their sharpness. "That's not what I want. I was—"

"If you know that, then why would you stand me up?" you demanded, gazing you at him. "If you know all I want is for you to be happy, why would you start a fight with me? You know I would never hurt you like that, baby."

"I didn't mean to start a fight." Eren admitted, swallowing. "I just don't want you to leave me. I don't want to be alone. I don't know what—"

"I know. You don't have to explain it to me, baby. I know exactly what you're thinking." you told him, reaching for his hand to hold in yours. "It's okay, Eren. I know you wouldn't ever want to hurt me, right?"

He nodded, teal eyes watching as you brought his hand to your pillowy lips. You placed a feathery kiss against his knuckles. It had been so soft, so sweet that he wanted to cry.

He had just had car sex with one of the girls who lived in your dormitory's building, and you were kind enough to give him another chance. He did something that hurt you, and you still only wanted what was best for him.

"I love you." Eren sputtered out. His eyes were wide at you, and his voice sounded like he was begging you for something you refused to give him.

You let out a sweet sigh, eyes snapping to his. "You love me?" you repeated, taking a moment to savor the way the words felt on your tongue. Your brows furrowed at the words. "Do you really?"

He nodded quickly, maneuvering his hand to hold yours. He peppered kisses along your fingers, your knuckles. "I do. I really fucking do. I love you." Eren assured, kissing the inside of your hand before grabbing the side of your face.

You raised a brow as he planted soft, needy kisses along your cheeks. "How much do you love me, Eren?" you inquired, bringing your hand to massage his scalp.

Eren swallowed, looking up at you. He was quiet. You blinked back at him, waiting for his answer. You had been so surprised to find he had nothing to offer you in that moment.

You quirked a brow at his silence. "How much, Eren? How much do you love me?" you repeated, voice advancing from a curious tone to a demanding one.

He shook his head, bringing your lips to meet his gently. He tasted like . . . was it honey? Or was it just how sweet the lies he told sounded on your ears?

You weren't able to tell what his mouth tasted like, but you knew you had earned another spit sister? Had he kissed her the way he kissed you? Did he feed her the same lies he did you? Could she taste him? Was she able to put a finger on what the candied flavor on his lips was?

Eren pulled back from you slightly. You couldn’t tell if it was his turquoise eyes that were glassy or if it was yours. "Too much." he told you, lips brushing against yours. "I love you too much." He collided his face with yours, tongue slipping into your open mouth.

His kisses travelled lower — along your jaw, down your nec. He sucked hard when he found your pulse-point, only stopping once a soft moan escaped your swollen lips.

There really wasn't a way you would ever leave him, even if you tried to. Despite all the fights, all the times you professed your hate for him, all the times you tried tried to break it off, Eren stayed with you.

But, it was the same for him. Even if you hurt him, flirt with his friends right in front of him, cuss him out and manipulate him the way you had already done a profuse amount of times in the past, Eren would always love you. How could he not?

Maybe it was because both of you were equally fucked in the head, or because you both loved the concept of pain whether you be playing the role of the inflicted or inflicter, but in some twisted way, you never wanted to leave him.

Somewhere in the messed up relationship that you two had, you realized you loved him. God, you fucking loved him, even if he treated you like a pet.

And, he was your favorite toy. Yours to use and to lie and to fuck. Whether Eren Jaeger was so free he couldn't help but trample over you, or you were too much, too curious that you pushed him to the very brink and a little more, one thing wouldn't change.

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it, you figured that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you did.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

note: welp they were toxic huh

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

[moldisgoodforyou]

significant upgrade

i wrote the rest of this on the plane don't come for me if there is a MISTAKE !! (however do politely shoot me a message so i can correct my typo lmao)

wordcount: 3.4k

warnings: nada except brooklyn is a BITCH, ok so maybe cursing is a warning

_________

James: SOS

Sophie

Doll

Sophie: what do you want

James: Come bar

To the bar

Sorry not sober

Sophie: I’m grading, buddy

James: No no no

DEFCON 5

Urgent

After their short back and forth, and James’ little typing bubble popped up multiple times before going away, Sophie pushed aside her work and called him. She checked Find My Friends first, feeling better about the situation once she saw Rafe’s dot at the bar with the boys. “James? Something wrong?”

“Yes. Sophie, listen, look. You gotta get here.” James told her with a little slur to his words, but what was more telling was the sheer volume on the phone call as he yelled. He was always a loud person naturally, but she swore he got ten times louder when he had an ounce of alcohol.

“I already told Rafe I couldn’t, I have to catch up on grading stuff if I want to go out tomorrow. Is something really wrong?” She questioned, but considered going anyway. She’d already graded over half the work and it was proving easier to mindlessly go through than she thought, and she could knock it out tomorrow morning if she really needed to.

“It’s like, urgent, Soph. Look, come here, wear your sluttiest top - that’s not an insult, by the way, it’s a compliment or whatever - like, empowering or some shit - shut up, Colin -”

“James -”

“I’m serious, she is not backing down -”

That caught her attention and she stood, glancing over her appearance in the mirror. “Who?”

“Just c’mere. I’ll have a drink ready for you. Are you still on that Fireball peach schnapps kick? Like a fuckin’ psycho?”

She laughed. “You drink vodka redbulls, James, shut the fuck up. I’ll be there in...uh...ten.”

“Deal. Sluttiest top!” He added before hanging up.

She rolled her eyes, looked herself over in the mirror, and shrugged. She wore an old pair of Nike shorts and a t-shirt of Rafe’s with his name on the back, an old intramural shirt. If it wasn’t senior year, and if she wasn’t locked down already, she’d probably give more of a fuck, but she just wanted to take the opportunity to hang out with her friends while she could. After swiping on a quick coat of cherry lip balm and brushing her hair, she shoved her feet into sandals and made her way to the bar.

When she arrived, she went straight to their usual corner booth and slid in next to Colin, who greeted her with a grin and a drink, as promised. James threw his arm around her shoulders and messed with her hair immediately, making her squawk in protest. “Flint, kiddo, that is not nearly as slutty as I expected.”

“The Cameron on the back adds some possession though, don’t you think?” Colin pointed out, slapping James’ hand away from her.

Sophie scowled, combing her fingers through her hair. “What am I here for?”

“Oh! Right.” James stood on his toes and scanned the bar, locating Rafe in the far corner. Rafe wore a forced smile and was leaning against the wall with a couple of the other interns from Jeni’s over the summer - including Brooklyn, who was twirling her hair and stood right next to Rafe.

Sophie stood on her tiptoes, hand on James’ shoulder for balance as she followed his gaze. “I don’t see him, what am I looking at - oh, shit.”

“Yeah, see why I told you to go for the slutty top?” James reached for her shirt, tugging at the hem until she shoved his hand away.

“No, she would have just implied I was a prostitute or something.” She shook her head and turned back to the table, then took a long sip of her drink, draining nearly half of it in one go. “I don’t want to seem, like, overbearing - I mean, she’s with the whole group.”

Colin raised his eyebrows, skeptical. “She’s touched his arm multiple times and made him link arms when they did shots earlier. Had everyone else partner up too as an excuse.”

“Exactly.” James nodded, emphatic. “I already tried to rescue him, but Colin says m’ too drunk.” He hiccuped to punctuate his statement, then pushed a plastic shot glass toward her. “Here. Got you tequila.”

She wrinkled her nose, eyeing it with a frown. “I hate tequila.”

“See! I told you!” Colin exclaimed, snatching the shot glass away and knocking it back. “If you need backup, just wave or look over or something. I’ll deck her if I need to.”

She grinned, drinking the rest of what James got her. “Thank you, both of you. I appreciate it.”

“Hey. Whoever Rafe’s dating, we’re dating too.” James proclaimed, patting her head affectionately. “Just without the fun parts.”

“Lovely.” She replied, glancing over toward Rafe again. Brooklyn was now leaning just a little closer and Sophie could practically feel the tension radiating from his body, even from all the way across the room. She frowned when the other interns seemed to agree on something, dispersing, but Brooklyn stayed.

Sophie stood there and watched for a few more moments, seemingly frozen, until Colin nudged her shoulder. “Go.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She dismissed, taking another breath before striding across the room. Of course, someone turned at the exact moment she rounded the bar, spilling their drink down her light pink shorts, soaking the entire left leg. She didn’t even let the guy apologize before she shrugged him off with a grimace and made her way toward Rafe.

He noticed her immediately out of the crowd, grinning and straightening up once he saw her. “Soph!”

She smiled at her eager boyfriend and how he always lit up upon seeing her, without fail. “Hi, baby.” She greeted, slipping her arm around his waist as he rested hers comfortably around her shoulders. She never - ever - used pet names in public, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Thought you weren’t coming out tonight?” He asked, glancing over her outfit and frowned when he realized half her shorts were wet. “What happened?”

“Grading went quicker than I expected.” She dismissed, her eyes flitting over his expression. He looked confused and she could tell from the way his eyes were glassy that he was drunk and nearly on the verge of falling asleep. “Can I try your drink?”

“Rafe, are you going to introduce me?” Brooklyn feigned a smile, fingers tightening around her own drink.

He furrowed his brow even more, looking between the two of them. “I thought you guys met. At the charity gala thing, remember? Sophie had that really pretty dress?”

“Yeah. We’ve met.” Sophie replied coolly, taking Rafe’s whiskey sour from him and took a sip. She hated them, with all her heart, but wouldn’t dare make a face in front of Brooklyn.

“Oh! Sorry, I just didn’t recognize you, you must have been wearing a ton of makeup or something at the gala.”

“She still looked like herself.” Rafe supplied, confused. He traced his thumb over Sophie’s cheekbone, staring at her in concentration before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Sophie swore she saw Brooklyn’s jaw tick as she watched the two of them, as she watched what she used to have.

“Okay, okay. Rafe, did you tell her about all the fun things we did this summer? Sophie, you were away or something, right?” Brooklyn asked, hyper-conscious of how Rafe leaned into Sophie more and how he pressed a sleepy kiss to her temple.

“Nope.” He replied, popping the p. “Nothin’ to share. The internship was kinda boring. She was in Barcelona.”

“Oh, right. Long distance wasn’t too hard on you then?” Brooklyn probed with a sympathetic smile. She reached toward Rafe to touch his arm reassuringly, then seemed to remember at the last second that Sophie was right there, and jerked her hand back like she’d been burned.

“Nah. Why?” Rafe asked, cocking his head to the side, some of his hair flopping into his eyes.

Brooklyn grinned. “I just didn’t think you’d still be together, is all.”

“That’s funny, because I’m pretty sure you follow me on Instagram. So you’d know.” Sophie shot back with an equally fake grin, determined to come out on top in the petty exchange.

She wished Rafe was more sober so he could make an excuse for them to leave or shut the whole conversation down, but when he was drunk he didn’t pick up on any tone inflections. (She’d accidentally made him upset more times than she could count with a poorly worded sarcastic insult, and immediately felt guilty as his drunken gaze gave way to his signature pout.) To an outsider, their conversation seemed as civil as possible, like three friends catching up, until you got close enough to see the bared teeth and the tense jaws.

“No...I don’t think I’d waste a follow on you.” Brooklyn retorted, glancing down to the Cartier ring on her hand. “Sophie, usually when people wear designer, they have to have the clothes to match the rest of the outfit. Not whatever…” she looked her up and down, scrutinizing her clothing choice. “...Whatever is going on here.”

“Hey.” Rafe interjected, finally noticing the hostile undertones in the conversation. “Be nice, she’s hot in whatever she’s in.”

Sophie had to resist rolling her eyes at his completely unhelpful comment. “It’s okay, Brooklyn, I actually have style, so I don’t have to rely on wearing tacky designer clothes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my boyfriend and I are going to go hang out with our friends.” She glanced over toward the boys for backup and tilted her head toward the door, and James and Colin started making their way over. Alright. So she’d handled that well, she thought, matched her energy without getting too emotional or heated -

Brooklyn wrinkled her nose at Sophie’s comment. “Careful. He gets emotional when he’s drunk.”

“He doesn’t, actually, he was probably just being manipulated by you.” Sophie shot back with a sharp tone, protectively curling her arm tighter around Rafe’s waist. He just watched the back and forth with a furrowed brow, not sober enough to keep up.

James and Colin arrived just as Brooklyn sneered at Sophie, shaking her head. “Whatever. He’ll end up drinking away his problems in private like his dad anyways.”

As Sophie’s nose flared and as she took a quick step toward Brooklyn, getting right up in her space, Colin immediately grabbed Rafe’s arm and pulled him away. “C’mon, Rafe, let’s wait for her outside.”

Rafe let himself be tugged along, but frowned as he glanced back at the girls. “She’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes. She’ll be fine.” Colin replied confidently, dragging Rafe and James out of the bar.

Sophie stood tall, eye-to-eye with Brooklyn. “Don’t say that shit about Rafe. You don’t know him like that -”

“I do, actually. I know a lot more about him than you probably realize. Has he taken you to the Bahamas yet?” Brooklyn didn’t back down at all, smirking when she saw Sophie’s expression falter for a split second. “Still no? He’s probably embarrassed.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sophie snapped, unable to come up with a better response. “Give it up, you’re not with him anymore.”

“Yeah, but I know he’s not going to keep up this little facade once we graduate college. He needs someone that can keep up with his family, that’ll do more than just hang on his arm at all the charity events.” Brooklyn smiled, taking a step back. “I’ll be there for him when you can’t hold your ground.”

“You’re delusional.” Sophie shook her head, so furious she couldn’t snap back with a sharp comeback. When Brooklyn just shrugged and lifted her drink to her lips, Sophie tipped up the bottom of it, making it splash all over Brooklyn. “Have a good night.”

“Fucking -”

Brooklyn exclaimed, but Sophie just turned on her heel and flipped her off over her shoulder as she strode out. She was fuming, practically shaking, but didn’t dare break down in front of anyone in the bar.

Colin regarded her carefully, making sure she was okay. “You good? Need me to go back in and finish the job?”

Rafe, leaning on James, seemed to finally realize she’d come out. “Baby! You’re back!”

She bit the inside of her cheek, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m okay. Thanks Colin. Need help walking these two home?”

He grinned, gesturing at the way the two boys were slumped against the wall of the bar. “Might need a little help, yeah.”

She nodded and slipped her arm around Rafe’s waist, unsurprised when he leaned into her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Alright. C’mon, Cameron, your bed awaits.”

James sighed, striding along with them. “I want a girlfriend to bring me home.”

“Too bad, you’re stuck with me for now.” Colin quipped, grabbing James’ arm when he tripped on the uneven sidewalk.

“Was she being mean?” Rafe asked with concern, reaching for her hand. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Yeah. Your ex is a bitch.” She replied bluntly, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Am I gonna have to drag you home?”

“No ma’am. I’m good. All good.” He replied quickly, though unconvincingly as he slurred his words. “There’s a chance that I might be a tiny bit drunk.”

“A tiny bit?” Colin snorted, waving his hand in front of Rafe’s face. “You and James did multiple Jagerbombs. That always does you in.” He glanced over Sophie again, concerned. “Soph. You okay?”

“Huh?” She did her best to help Rafe along and guide his 6’3” frame so he wouldn’t trip over the sidewalk or walk the wrong direction, but was running through a script in her head of all the things she wished she had said - or done - to Brooklyn.

Colin frowned. “You’re doing that thing, Rafe says you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re mad. You want me to go back in? I’ll talk to her, I swear -”

“S’true. She does.” Rafe confirmed, then finally seemed to pick up on the anger radiating from her. “Did I do something?”

“No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She reassured him quickly, then gave Colin a small smile. “It’s okay. Thank you. I just - she just -”

“Yeah. I know.” Colin nodded. “Fuck her.”

“Exactly. Fuck her.” She repeated, a little louder and a little more confident.

James whipped his head back and started walking backward for about two steps until Colin forced him to keep his eyes ahead. “Who are we fucking?”

“We’re not - James, pay attention.” Sophie sighed, urging him along.

Rafe leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of her head, then whispered - in the loudest stage-whisper possible - “I think I’m a little too drunk for fucking.”

“Rafe.”

“Yes.”

“Please shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded dutifully, hooking his arm in with hers. They made it to the boys’ house a couple minutes later and Colin shoved James onto the couch, tugged off his shoes and grabbed him a water bottle from the fridge.

“Alright. He’ll be fine here, Sophie, do you need help with the stairs?” He asked, noticing the way Rafe slumped onto her.

“Um...no. I think we got it.” She took a deep breath, her mind still racing from what Brooklyn said at the bar. “Thanks, Colin.”

“Night, you two.” He paused on the stairs, glancing back at James and then at Sophie for a moment before heading upstairs.

Sophie nodded, more to herself than anything else. “Alright. Rafe, baby, work with me on the stairs and then we can go to bed?”

“I got it, I got it. M’not that drunk.” He protested, but tripped up the first step anyways, knocking his knee against the stairs as he fell hard with a thud. “Ow!”

Without even asking, Colin was jogging back down the stairs all the way from his room in the attic, hauling Rafe up before Sophie could blink. He dragged Rafe up and into his room, ignoring his protests, and pushed him onto the bed. “Soph, you can go get ready for bed, or whatever. I’ll babysit.”

“I think I got it, Colin -” She started halfheartedly, only to be cut off by Colin just pointing at the door. She nodded gratefully and hurried into the bathroom, quickly wiping off her makeup and brushing her teeth. When she returned, she paused just outside the door to hear Colin talking to Rafe.

“Give her a break, okay? She just had to deal with your insane ex -”

“She didn’t have to -”

“She did, because you’re a fucking pushover sometimes.” Colin interjected, exasperated. “Your breath reeks, get your ass up and go brush your teeth.”

“You’re mean.” Rafe grumbled back, but got up and ambled out to the bathroom, giving Sophie a dopey grin as he passed. Colin followed him out but stopped in the doorway, acknowledging her with a nod.

Sophie looked like she was about to cry, overwhelmed by how nice he was being and the fact that someone even noticed that she was struggling a little with dealing with Brooklyn. Without a warning, she stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you.”

He stiffened in her arms, then awkwardly patted her back after he was released from the hug. “It’s no big deal. Anything for a friend. Especially a friend that’ll stand up to that bitch.” He cracked a grin, nudging his shoulder against hers.

She laughed, rubbing her eyes quickly. “I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about her.”

“Yes. She’s awful.” Colin nodded. “You are a significant upgrade.”

“What are we upgrading?” Rafe asked as he returned from the bathroom just wearing his boxers slung low on his hips, with damp hair - even though they hadn’t heard the shower running - and his breath smelling of mint.

“Nothing, bud. Good night, you two.” Colin gave them a nod of dismissal and strode back upstairs, leaving the two once he was confident Rafe could stand on his own again.

Rafe reached out, noticing her slightly teary eyes, and affectionately stroked his hand over the top of her head. “You good, angel?”

“Just tired.” She yawned to make a show of it. “Where’d your clothes go?”

“Oh. Uh…” He glanced back to the bathroom. “I was gonna shower, but that was too much work, so I just got my hair wet.”

“...Right. Okay, bud, you need sleep.” Sophie ushered him into his room and onto the bed, then changed quickly into a spare pair of pajamas she’d left behind. When she returned to the bed and slipped under the covers next to him, he rolled over to face her, concern written all over his face.

“You’re upset.”

“Not at you.”

“But you’re still upset. Talk to me?” He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone tenderly, unsure what was going on - and honestly, the room would spin a little if he shut his eyes - but he was still conscious enough to pick up on Sophie’s feelings.

She nodded, rolling onto her back so she didn’t have to make eye contact. “It’s just - it makes me so fucking mad that you dated her. Not because of anything you did, but I just know you deserve so much better. And then she just still thinks she has any influence on you, she’s so damn condescending - ugh.” She rolled back over, frowning. “If we ever broke up I don’t think I’d ever be able to see you again.”

“You wouldn’t see me anymore?” He frowned, trying to keep up.

“No. It would hurt too much. That’s how I know she damn well didn’t love you like she should have.” She insisted, eyes bright again as she ranted. “She fucked up by letting you go, you’re a fucking catch, Rafe. I’m sorry she didn’t realize your worth.”

He blushed and pulled her close, nudging his nose against hers before kissing her. “You wanna repeat that again tomorrow when I’m sober? So I make sure I remember?” He had a joking tone, but seemed a little unsure too.

“Absolutely. I’ll tell you that every damn day if I need to.” She kissed him back, heatedly, as if to emphasize her point. “I love you. You’re mine and I love you.”

“M’ yours.” He confirmed with a sleepy nod, not nearly reciprocating the kiss as hard as hers. “My favorite girl.”

She pulled away, peppering kisses over his nose and cheeks before resting her head on his chest. “Good night, baby. Don’t you dare throw up in bed.”

He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes. “I won’t. Sweet dreams, Soph.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

[daringyounggrayson]

Could you do 25 or 30 for Bruce and Dick? I’d really like for you to make Bruce say those words to his son!

I think we would all like to see that! oh, and for this one, I’m mixing things up: Bruce took Dick in as his ward but never went on to adopt him. 

25: “You know I love you, right?”

30: “I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

AO3

"Mr. Wayne!” a photographer calls, waving his arm toward their small group as they try to make their way inside. “A picture of you and your sons, if you wouldn’t mind?” 

“Sure!” 

On cue, the four of them turn toward the camera with easy smiles. 

“Oh, sorry sir.” The photographer directs this at Dick. “Could I just get his sons for this shot?”

Dick doesn’t blame the reporter, honestly. He was probably assigned to get pictures of the Waynes, and when you google the Waynes, Dick’s name doesn’t pop-up—at least, not under family. And it makes sense; he was never adopted, so he’s legally not part of the Wayne family. Dick’s relation is just a small, unimportant detail. And to outsiders, especially people outside of Gotham or people who simply don’t keep up with Wayne Family News, Dick looks like more of a family friend, if anything. 

It’s an honest mistake, and Dick doesn’t take it personally. Unfortunately, that doesn't make it any less awkward. 

Dick glances at Bruce, trying to decide what to do. This evening will be long enough as it is, and if Bruce would rather let it go and get through the photos as quickly as possible, Dick wouldn't blame him. And it’s not like Dick needs his face on another magazine. 

Bruce tightens his hold on Dick’s shoulder, decision made.

“If you don’t mind,” Bruce pipes up with a charming voice, “I would like Richard to be in the photo. I did raise him for a decade, after all.” Bruce laughs to ease the tension, and Dick joins him to tell the photographer it’s okay.

The photographer’s eyes go wide, face going slightly pink. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I, er, here—” he holds the camera up “—smile!” The camera flashes twice. “Perfect. Have a nice evening!” And then the photographer is gone.

“I think I’m going to run ahead,” Dick says. “Find me when you can.”

“Dick, you don't—”

“It’s fine, B. Seriously.” Dick grins.

Bruce frowns. 

Dick shrugs and ducks away from his group, heading toward the building. He ignores the flashing of cameras and calls from the various photographers, and he ignores the three pairs of eyes that dig into his back as he goes.

oOo

All in all, the party was uneventful and the four of them excused themselves early after receiving an alert that Scarecrow had been spotted on the other side of town. If Scarecrow hadn’t been spotted terrorizing civilians with fear gas, Dick might’ve been able to enjoy the free ticket out of the gala.

“Shit,” Tim mutters.

“What?” Dick asks, not taking his eyes off of Scarecrow.

“Forgot to grab a new rebreather. I still have the busted one from the other night.”

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath before grabbing his own rebreather. “Here.”

Tim pushes it back toward him, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I messed up; I can deal with the consequences.”

“I’m offering you the solution,” Dick insists, pushing back. “We don’t have time to argue. Take the rebreather so we can move in.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need you to protect me like I’m,” Tim looks away, down, “like I’m Robin. Besides, I think we both know that I’ll be able to handle fear gas better than you.”

Dick clenches his jaw, then relaxes it. Not the time. “Maybe, but I’m in charge right now. So: take the rebreather or you’re playing look-out for the rest of the night.”

Tim’s head shoots up, eyes scanning Dick to see how serious he is. Tim takes the rebreather, shoving it into his belt. “Happy?”

“Thrilled. Let’s go.”

oOo

If anyone had to get gassed, Dick’s glad it was him. Even though he has an objectively bad reaction and treatment isn’t always effective, he has more experience and can deal with it better than his siblings. During and after. On top of that, Tim was and continues to be his responsibility; his top priority was getting Tim home safe. From those perspectives, it was logical for Dick to take the lungful of fear toxin.

Then there’s the selfish, probably more powerful perspective: Dick can’t stand seeing Tim on fear gas. The screaming, the tears, the things he says, the inability to comfort him and take the pain away. It’s awful to see once, and Dick’s seen it countless times, in real life and in nightmares. He’d do anything to avoid it—for Tim’s sake and, when Dick’s being honest, his own. He knows his family probably feels the same way about him, but that just means they’d act out of selfishness too. 

Tonight, Dick had more say, so Tim got the rebreather and Dick got more than a lungful of gas.

“Sorry again,” Tim mumbles, passing Dick a fresh ice pack. “About the rebreather.”

Dick takes the ice pack and presses it against his right shoulder, which he agitated at some point during their fight with Scarecrow. “’S fine. Knowing you, you’ll triple check next time to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“No kidding,” Tim mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He stifles a yawn. “Need anything else?”

“Nah.” Dick starts reciting pi in his head, trying to drown out the voices he knows aren’t real. “Get some sleep. And good work tonight.”

Even with the gassing, he and Tim were able to take down Scarecrow fairly easily. It’s nice to know that the two of them can still work well together, even when the circumstances aren’t entirely ideal.

“Thanks, you too.” Tim bounces on the balls of his feet and fails to stifle another yawn. This time, Dick yawns too. “You don’t want company or anything?”

“I’m good. Besides, I’ll probably just try to sleep until Alfred is happy with the blood work.”

Tim shrugs and takes a few steps backward. “If you change your mind.”

“Night, Timmers.”

“Night.” Tim turns around and makes his exit.

Dick throws his good arm over his eyes and tries to sleep.

oOo

Unconsciousness comes in waves, broken by adrenaline spikes and Alfred or Bruce checking on him. But no matter his consciousness status, Dick’s reality is shadowed and manipulated by voices and figures, hallucinations and lies that feel like absolute truths. It’s hard to tell the difference between sleep and wakefulness, but the shaking is a good tell. He doesn’t usually shake in his nightmares.

He's in his room, lying in his bed and shaking. He doesn’t remember coming here, but that doesn’t say much. He’d been having a dream, something that felt real, but wrong. Something adjacent to reality.

A camera kept flashing in his face, the photographer morphing into something less and less human. And Bruce, Bruce had been there. Yelling at him, telling him to—

No. That hadn’t happened, and now that he’s awake, Dick can barely remember the lies.

Dick kicks at his sheets, trying to reach the cool air above them. At first it’s a relief, but soon it’s not enough because he’s hot and sweaty and something keeps telling him to run. He glances out the window, trying to figure out if he could survive the fall—

No. He’s fine. He’s fine.

Dick pushes himself upright, takes some deep breaths, tries to recite pi. 

He jumps at the knock on his door.

“Dick?” the door creaks open to reveal Bruce, who enters the room before Dick can answer. “What are you still doing here?”

“I—” Dick feels hot, his palms are sweating again and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest, trying to escape. He blinks, twists the skin on his forearm until it hurts.

Bruce is in front of him, sitting down on the bed. “I trained you to be a detective. Can’t you piece together the clues? You’re not wanted. Get out of my house and stay away from my family.”

Dick shakes his head, fists his hair. The room feels like it’s getting smaller, twisted and darker. Louder. Wrong. This is a sign, but Dick can’t remember for what. “But you—no. You trusted me with Damian, you said—” 

What had Bruce said? He’s a master manipulator when he wants to be, needs to be. He might’ve trusted him with Damian, or maybe, just maybe, he was only trying to protect Alfred in case Damian had been given orders to assassinate them. He’d already attacked Tim, after all, and keeping that fact in mind, Bruce would have needed to consider safety and who he’d be willing to lose in order to protect someone else. Dick’s death and its repercussions would have felt minuscule if it meant Alfred would be saved.

Hands tug at his wrists. It’s three fourteen. The voice is lying.

“Shh. Take a breath.” Dick tries, but it’s like his chest has stalled. “Tell me how many posters are in your room.”

“There’s—”

“Take them and go. I don’t want any trace of you left in this house.”

“Dick, you’re alright. Take a breath.” Hands are on Dick’s shoulders, trying to restrain him. He brushes them off, tries to get to the window. “I’m out of patience. I won’t be subtle any longer—I’ve regretted taking you in from the moment you moved in. Go!”  

His fingers barely brush against the window’s lock before he’s slammed into the ground. His shoulder pops, making him grunt.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Focus. Wait it out.”

Dick struggles against the weight on top of him, but it doesn’t give, not even when he resorts to biting. The hands simply shift from his chest to his stomach, and his attacker doesn’t even make a sound.

The voices in his head build up. There are millions, all shouting conspiracies at him, all of them sounding too true. His heart pounds so hard that it must be bruising his chest, and he’s so hot that his brain must be about to melt. And, and—he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. This is it—he’s going to die.

A hand forces his head down, and it’s not until then that he realizes he’s been slamming it against the ground in an attempt to silence the voices.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“Leave! Jump out the window, you’d be doing everyone a favor!”

Dick tries to lift his head again, but the hold is firm. There’s not enough room to hit it against the ground, there’s not enough room to shut the voices out.

“No one will miss you!”

The familiar feeling of a needle slides into his arm.

“Shh.”

Something happens. The room shifts, he shifts, and he realizes that he’s no longer shaking. It’s a sign.

The hallucinations shift into a nightmare that feels too real.

oOo

Dick wakes up to nausea and a headache. He tries to move his hand to rub at his head only to find that he’s been restrained. Bad night then.

He opens his eyes and turns his head. There’s an empty chair by his bed and the bedroom door is cracked open. 

“Bruce,” he calls. 

Damian steps into view, pushing the door open a little wider. The quick response tells Dick that Damian has been listening from the hallway. “Father is answering a call from Kent. Would you like me to collect him?”

"It can wait.” 

Damian still hasn’t entered the room, and it makes Dick wonder how much he’d heard last night, how much last night has to do with the distance, the hesitance. He doesn’t remember seeing Damian at all, but he probably came back when Dick was still in the Cave. And even if they hadn’t seen each other, it’s not like Dick’s bedroom is soundproof.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” He can remember Bruce having a handful of especially bad reactions to fear gas from when Dick was a kid—they’d been terrifying, seeing Bruce like that had made them terrifying.

“Of course. You are the one who was incapacitated.” Damian tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling it halfway down his hand. “But you are alright now?”

Dick quirks his lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I imagine last night was quite difficult,” Damian begins. “Titus woke up several times.” Damian tugs on his sleeve again, he looks like he wants to ask something.

Damian’s head turns abruptly, and whatever he sees causes him to take a step back. Into the hallway, he says, “Richard is awake.”

Now that he’s paying attention, Dick can hear Bruce’s footsteps. Bruce pauses outside of Dick’s bedroom, and he and Damian exchange words in quiet voices that Dick can’t understand. Then Bruce steps inside and closes the door behind him. 

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.

“Lucid,” Dick starts. Bruce tilts his head, expectant. “Not great overall, and I still feel a little on edge, but I think the worst of it is over.”

“Hnn.” Bruce looks him over for a moment, trying to confirm Dick’s self-evaluation. He must pass because soon Bruce is taking off the restraints. 

“Did I . . .” Dick tries to think back to last night and work out what was nightmare and what was hallucination and what was reality. “Did I try to jump out a window last night?”

“Yes. I had to hold you down until a sedative was administered. After that, we decided it would be safer to use restraints until the toxin wore off.”

Dick sits up as the last of the restraints are removed. He stretches his ankles and wrists. “Did the antidote not work or something?”

“It either wore off early or the toxin was stronger than usual. Possibly both, considering how you reacted to additional doses,” Bruce explains. 

Dick frowns. “How many doses did you give me?”  

“Three. You probably won’t need a fourth, but we’ll check your blood in a few hours to make sure that the traces still in your system are gone, or at least decreasing.”

Dick groans and slides back down against his pillow, draping his arms over his face. The fear toxin antidote, while helpful, isn’t without side-effects. With three doses, those effects will stick around for days.

Bruce, the bastard, has the audacity to chuckle at him. Dick blindly throws a pillow at him, smiling when he hears it meet its target.

Then, “Are you hungry?”

“Not even a little.”

Bruce runs a hand through Dick’s hair. “Sleep.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. 

oOo

Dick wakes up alone again, but this time the chair is gone and the door is completely shut. It’s a good sign, and since Dick isn’t currently disoriented, very much preferred. 

It’s much later in the day now, a little past noon, but he knows he could very easily close his eyes and sleep for another few hours. Possibly until the next morning. But to his misfortune, his stomach growls in protest.

With a dramatic sigh that no one can hear, he gets out of bed, quickly showers and dresses, and goes downstairs to find something to eat.

"I was just about to check on you," Alfred says when he spots him entering the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugs. “Tired.” It’s a side-effect of the antidote, but the nightmares probably hadn’t helped. “Did you guys have lunch already?”

“It would seem that everyone has gotten a rather late start to the day. We were just about to settle in for a brunch of sorts.”

“Do you need help?” Dick asks.

Alfred points toward a tray of what looks like buckwheat pancakes. “If you could bring that tray into the dining room, please.”

Dick hums and grabs the tray, carrying it into the dining room with Alfred behind him. He’s just setting the tray down when Titus storms in, running into his legs with a force that threatens to knock him over.

He takes a step back with a small laugh, reaching down to pet Titus. His tail thumps against the ground as he takes a seat on top of Dick’s feet.

“Master Damian!” Alfred shouts, setting a bowl of fruit down on the table.

“What’s up with you, buddy?” Dick asks the dog as he bends down to pet him better. Titus doesn’t usually tackle him, especially not when they just saw each other the day before. “What’s goin’ on?”

Alfred tsks to the room at large.

“Yes, Pennyworth?” Damian asks when he eventually reaches the room.

“What have I told you about animals in the dining room, especially during meal times?”

Damian rolls his eyes, prompting another “Master Damian!” from Alfred. Dick almost laughs, but the adult in him tells him to stand up and keep his mouth shut.

“Titus, come,” Damian says.

Titus whines.

“Titus, come,” Damian repeats.

Titus obeys, tail low as Damian leads him out of the room.

“And please gather the others before returning.”

Damian mumbles something under his breath that Alfred claims to have heard. Despite the resistance, Tim comes into the room a minute later, so Damian must’ve done as Alfred asked.

“Morning,” Tim says. He juts his thumb toward the hall. “What’s Damian mad about?”

“Oh.” Dick huffs a small laugh. “Titus ran in here and Alfred kind of went off on him.”

“Ugh, and I missed it? Bummer.” Tim takes a seat next to him and steals a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Feeling any better? Bruce said you had a rough night.”

Sometimes a little fear toxin exposure can be so mundane and minuscule that it isn’t mentioned the following morning. Dick wishes this was one of those times.

“Yup.” Dick taps his fingers on the table. “What happened to your ankle? You didn’t report it last night.”

Tim looks down at the ACE bandage wrapped around his left foot. “Oh. Just an old injury that started acting up this morning. I can still kick your ass at sparring later, though.”

Dick snorts and grabs one of the buckwheat pancakes, deciding he can’t wait any longer. “You wish.”

oOo

Breakfast is uneventful, aside from Dick literally falling asleep on the table. Bruce shakes him awake after everyone’s finished eating and then drags Dick down to the Cave to check his blood levels. Titus joins them, pressing himself against Dick’s legs and nearly tripping him as they make their way down the Cave’s stairs.

One blood test later and they learn that the toxin levels haven’t budged. Bruce decides to give him another dose of the antidote.

“Fourth time’s the charm, right?” Dick says.

“Hnn.”

Bruce sets a timer on his phone, just like he used to do in the early days. Draw blood, antidote, set a timer, draw more blood. That had been the routine for so much of his life.

Although, Dick supposes, they hadn’t really had antidotes back then; they’d had attempts at treatments. Desperate attempts to manage symptoms. There was no testing to guarantee their effectiveness or safety, and their chemical makeup had been based purely on theory and desperation. It was better than nothing, but it was risky, so they took precautions: monitoring each other not only for effectiveness but also for the inevitable side effects.

Dick will never forget the time an “antidote” caused his throat to swell up and chest to stall. The timer had only had a minute left, too—they’d increased the time after that, and Dick hadn’t complained about having to wait the whole time for almost a year.

These days, monitoring isn’t always part of the routine, and when it is, it’s mostly to check for effectiveness. But since this is Dick’s fourth dose in a relatively short timeframe, his risk for adverse effects is higher and he needs to be monitored to make sure he doesn’t keel over. Bruce will probably force him to stay at the manor until all side effects of the treatment subside, longer if new side effects arise.

“Have you been able to get any restful sleep?”

Dick jerks as he’s pulled from his thoughts. “Uh,” he starts, needing a second to process what Bruce just said. “No. Not really, no.”

“Someone can patrol in Bludhaven while you recover.”

It’s an offer, Bruce trying to be helpful. Dick knows that, but something makes it feel like an order, proof that Bruce thinks he’s incompetent.

“I’m fine on my own.”

Funny how Dick’s still trying to prove that, after all these years. He remembers when he was eight and first moved in with Bruce, how he’d been adamant about not needing a parent, not needing Bruce, but he became attached anyway. He’d told himself Bruce was a want, not a need, but that hadn’t been true, not in the early days.

Then things shifted. He grew up and no longer needed Bruce, but he’d wanted him. Dick had lied to himself again, telling himself that Bruce was the last person he wanted. The lie was easier to believe on some days than on others, but it had been even harder to convince himself that Bruce felt the same way. That even if Bruce didn’t need Dick, he wanted him.

That feeling of uncertainty, insecurity, had been with Dick since he was a kid, and it had persisted and worsened as he’d gotten older. It had been exacerbated after Two-Face nearly killed him and Bruce promptly fired him from being Robin. He was twelve and lost back then, and in what he now knows was just his twisted, hurt kid-brain, he’d convinced himself that Bruce didn’t need nor want him, as Robin or anything else.

Back then, he’d been certain that pity and guilt were the only things stopping Bruce from tossing Dick out onto the streets. He’d felt like a burden, and he’d hated everything about his life in those moments. So, he’d done the only thing he could think of—he ran.

And Bruce—Bruce didn’t chase him.

That was—maybe is—the important bit, the part that Dick still thinks about. Not the initial rejection, not being fired—that Bruce didn’t come after him.

After all, that’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Bruce to prove him wrong, for Bruce to chase after him, fight for him. To want him.

Bruce fought for Jason, then for Tim and, eventually, Damian. It’s clear that they are and always will be wanted, and Dick knows it’s stupid, but he doesn’t always know if that’s true for himself. At the end of the day, his brothers all have Bruce’s name, and all Dick has is a man who stopped being his legal guardian when he turned eighteen.

Dick is useful, even needed on the rare occasion, but he’s not always sure that he’s wanted. And he desperately needs to be wanted.

“Something’s . . . bothering you.” Bruce’s brows are furrowed, searching Dick’s face and trying to find the clues that will tell him what went wrong and where.

Dick scratches behind Titus’s ears, looking at him instead of Bruce. “Just the toxin.”

“Hnn.” Bruce sits down next to Dick, grunting slightly as he settles. “I imagine that the photographer’s comments last night didn’t help.”

Sometimes Dick hates how well Bruce knows him.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Maybe. But fear toxin twists things, and it’s been known to draw on recent events, especially the latest versions.”

Dick says nothing, just nods in acknowledgment as he attends to Titus.

“Dick, you are my family, in every sense of the word. And I . . . I was bothered by the comment last night that implied otherwise.”

Bruce reaches over and squeezes Dick’s knee, and Dick wonders how much he’d said last night when the fear toxin was in control.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—” Dick sighs, leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut. “Sometimes I don’t.”

Bruce shifts. He cups the back of Dick’s head and pulls him toward his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I love you, okay? And you are wanted here. So, so wanted.” Bruce holds him in a tight hug and traces circles into his hair. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

Dick hugs him back and nods into his chest. It doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it better. And sometimes that’s all anyone needs.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

THINGS YOU MAKE ME DO

Prompt: Inspired by the song Things You Make Me Do by Devil Doll

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, angst, heart break, manipulation

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @wickedsunfire , @sassymox , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This song is amazing, this band is amazing and I missed my main man, so enjoy lol ❤️ If you’d like to check out my other works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😉

I've got a secret plan to love you and I do so night and day

And I always stand right by you, have your back in every way

And you wish that I could save you and I wish that I could too

But if you cause too much pain for me I'll leave if I have to

He stood up from the hotel bed and began to get dressed, and as she stared at his figure, she wondered until when was she going to put up with this

But I think about you constantly all through the night and day

And I toss and turn in bed at night and hope it goes away

But it never does and when I wake and you're not next to me

I remember where you are, I hope your girl forgives me

“Are you leaving already?” She asked

“You know I have to” He looked at her “We can’t have people suspecting this” He motioned to the space between them “I would be fucked if they did” He scoffed

“Excuse me?” She asked, hurt by his lack of emotion “What do you mean by that?” She couldn’t have felt more offended, even if she chose to

“What, Y/N? Look, we fuck every once in a while, we have a good time but that’s it!” He chuckled, as he tied up his sneakers “Don’t try to turn this into something that it isn’t” He stood up

“Like what?” She asked angrily

“You know what? I’ll see you later” He winked, and walked out the door of her hotel room

Do I need you?

You seem to think I do

Can't seem to see through anything that you do

Oh, ooohhh, the things you make me do

Y/N was walking down one of the dark arena hallways, when a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, pushing her inside of one of the locker rooms

“Aren’t you gonna talk to me?” He asked, with his lips glued to her ear

“No, and let me go! I have work to do”

“You’ve been ignoring me for three days straight! Why is that, baby?” As his lips made contact with her skin, trailing down her neck

“Roman, just let me go. This is not the place and DEFINITELY not the time”

“I miss you” He whispered “Y/N, baby, you hurt my feelings when you treat me like this” He buried his face in her hair and caressed her body softly

She scoffed “As if you had any”

“Hey” He turned her around so she could face him “What’s the attitude about?” He looked into her eyes, and saw the resentment they held

“Is this because of what I said in your hotel room?” He sighed

“If you know, then why play dumb?” She spat

“C’mon Y/N, I’m sorry, ok?” He hugged her waist “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m an asshole! Please forgive me?” He pouted “Please, baby? I hate when you get mad at me” He begged with his eyes

“You don’t deserve it, you know” She crossed her arms in front of her chest

“Don’t be such a bitter bitch...It’s hotter when you’re MY bitch” He teased

When she tried to hold back a cackle, he knew he had won again

I should know better than to follow your lead wherever you go

Through the raging rivers, stones and alley ways we go

Sometimes I wonder if you really know where you take me to

But your radio is on so loud I can't get through to you

But if everything's ok with you then it's ok with me

You are such a little boy with you're big philosophy

But I'm not a little girl, I am a woman, don't you know?

I'm packing up my toys, I don't want to play anymore

“I don’t want to do this anymore” She said, watching him turn around and get dressed again - as he did every time.

“What are you talking about?” He frowned, as he looked for his shirt

“I don’t want to see you anymore, I’m done with this bullshit”

“You’re breaking up with me?” He laughed, in disbelief

“Well technically, in order to break up with someone you need to be with them in the first place”

“Not this again” He rolled his eyes in annoyance “Why do you always have to get feelings involved, huh? For fucks sake, can’t you ENJOY a one night stand like everybody else?” He threw his hands up in the air

“One night stand?” She widened her eyes in surprise “Do you call fucking almost every night for two years straight a ‘one night stand’ ?”

“Sexually speaking, we couldn't be any more compatible if we tried - so what the fuck do you want me to do? You’re a good fuck to me and I’m a good fuck to you! Why would I search in clubs and bars for something I have next door?” He tugged on his hair out of frustration “I don’t have to date you to like you, Y/N” He sat down beside her on the bed, and caressed her face delicately “You know I like you, don’t you, baby?”

“Yeah I know” She slapped his hand away “You like me when your dick is inside of me”

“Y/N” He sighed

“Get the fuck out” She kicked him on his lower back, in a repeated attempt to shove him out of the bed “Get out!”

“I’m leaving!” He said, grabbing his jacket

“Out!” She threw one of her heels at him, and her aim made it so it nailed him sharply in the hip

“I said I’m fucking leaving” He grabbed the door handle “Crazy bitch!” He said loudly enough for her to hear as he left

But what he didn’t hear were her sobs, which lasted the entire weekend

Do I need you?

You seem to think I do

Can't seem to see through anything that you do

Oh, ooohhh, the things you make me do

Six months had passed. Y/N had transferred to Smackdown, leaving Roman and all of their bitter memories together with Monday Night Raw, and for once in her life, is truly happy. That night, as she approached her car in the parking lot, she spotted none other than Roman himself leaning against the drivers’ door of her vehicle

And how can you smile at me when you know just what you can do

And it's not fair to me cause you know that I can never have you

How can you make me feel so good but then you make me feel so bad

You know that you are the baddest love that I've never had

“Hi, baby” He smiled sheepishly “I missed you” He tried to hug her, but she dismissed him

*It’s not going to be as easy as I thought* He mentally said to himself

“Can I talk to you for a minute? I wanted to apolog-”

“What are you doing here, Roman?” She asked sharply

“I got transferred to Smackdown”

“Good for you” She nodded once and continued “Now, if you excuse me, I’m really tired” She pointed towards her car

“Y/N” He cupped her cheek “Please, just hear me out? I regret everything I did, baby. I mean it! I should have never treated you like that, you don’t deserve it! You’re a beautiful, smart, sexy woman and it was a huge mistake to take you for granted” He brushed his lips softly against hers “Tell me you forgive me, I beg you, please, baby”

“I forgive you and then what? Everything goes back to what it used to be? You treating me like shit? No, Roman. This is not fair to me” She shook her head

“And you’re absolutely right! That will NEVER happen again! I give you my word, baby. Just give me one more chance and I promise I’ll make it up to you” His long fingers stroked the back of her neck lightly, making her miss what they once had.

That was until her phone rang, and the first chords of the Davy Jones Locket song echoed through the parking lot, remembering her of what she had now.

She smiled, as the song continued “No, I have to go” She took his hand off her face and entered the car to go meet the owner of that ringtone.

I've got my own man now, he treats me the way that you never could

And now you're all like "I should’ve, could’ve, would..."

But I'm afraid you've missed the train, you were too busy playing games

And now our story comes to an end, you ain't my lover or my friend

And when I am walking down the aisle oh so happily

Then you'll be saying "it could’ve, should’ve been me."

“Rumor has it, you’re getting married” Roman said, leaning against her office’s door

“Wow, news travels fast in this business, huh?” She answered, not paying too

much attention to him

“Can I see the ring?”

“Why? Want to buy a new one for your wife?” She scoffed

He decided to ignore her tone “Can I know who the lucky guy is?”

“Will it change anything if you do?” She continued to read her papers

“Can you stop answering my questions with other questions?”

“Will you stop asking me personal questions then?”

He chuckled softly “I missed that acid humor of yours”

“What do you want Roman?” She glared at him

“Your happiness” But this time, he meant it

“Now, that’s a bad taste joke” She laughed bitterly

“I know you don’t believe me, but I do”

“Right” She said dismissively

“Can you tell me who it is?”

“I figure, if you know I’m getting married then you also know who the groom is. Why hear old news again?”

“It’s Drew, isn’t it?” He asked defeatedly

She sighed “Yes, Roman. It’s Drew, are you happy now?”

“When is the wedding?”

“October. Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life?”

“I need to know how much time I have to kidnap you before you commit the biggest mistake of your life” He joked, but deep down, he meant it

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already committed that one” She said, intentionally making eye contact with him

“I love you, Y/N. Always have”

“You have a funny way of showing it” She murmured

“I’m sorry, babe...but I felt trapped. I didn’t knew how to express what I was feeling and I was so confused” He locked his gaze with hers “I would do everything different now, I swear I would”

She ignored his pleading eyes, and returned her gaze to her paperwork “I’m afraid that time is gone, Roman...There’s nothing left to do”

If you need me, I will not hear thee

Stay away from me, trying to decieve me

Oh, oh, ohhh the things you make me do

Oh the things you'll never make me do

Oh the things you’ll never make me do

Roses are red, violets are blue and so are you

One year later, Y/N is gathering her personal belongings from her office, her pregnancy doesn’t allow her to travel with the company any more, so she’s going to be working only from her home office for the foreseeable future. A knock on her door made her look up

“I heard the stork will be visiting you soon” Roman said

“Yeah, apparently she will”

“How far along are you?” He approached her carefully

“Just turned four months”

“Baby is popping out of nowhere, huh? Until a week ago you had no bump at all, and now” He reached his hand to touch her belly, but stopped midway

“It’s okay, Ro, you can touch it” She encouraged him

He smiled widely and rested his big hand against her tiny bump

“Do you know what you’re having?” He asked softly

“Girl” She smiled brightly “Regan”

“Even got her a name already? Damn baby, you’re fast- Sorry I shouldn’t have called you that” He said weakly

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it” She tried to hide the nostalgia the pet name brought to her

“I wish...” He trailed off

“Don’t. Don’t go there, please”

“You can still run away with me, you know?” He smirked, teasingly

“I’m sure you would look great holding a female version of Drew” She tried to joke

“As long as you birth it, I don’t care who made it. Although I wish it was me” He tried, one last time

“Maybe in another life, Ro” She smirked sadly, as she reached the door

“Do you promise?” He asked

“I’ll see you around” Smiling widely, she made her way out the arena doors, leaving him behind, for the second time (in that life).

But who knows what can happen in the next one?...

Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[annoyingloverbear]

ASANO GAKUSHUU X READER HEADCANNONS

Before you ask......don't ask. Yes I like assassination classroom too.

This is a HC about Y/n and Gakushuu attending the same high school.

Ohh boy do I tell you this boi fell hard for you.

And by 'fell' I mean literally fell.

It was one of those rare occasions his father being the disciplined father he is made Gakushuu walk home from school just because he didn't eat his roasted asparagus in dinner last night.

He didn't really mind tho. His home wasn't that far and he liked to see what's going on in the outside peasant world sometimes.

As he was passing a convenient store, he heard some commotion in the alley behind it.

He ignored it and started to walk his way, but he saw a glimpse of a grey uniform skirt and snapped his head towards you.

He saw you, clad in Kunigioka's grey uniform and surrounded by three tattooed bulk men.

"Come on little girl, just keep us company for some karaoke. You see my friends and I we all are really bad singers and would love some help."______"What makes you think I'm good at singing?"________" Oh I can tell you are naturally good at it little bird! Your angelic voice is like as sweet as honey to my ears."________"Back off."_________"What?"________"I said back off you pathetic excuse of a human being before I break your willy and shove it down your throats."________"YOU STUPID BITCH!!!"

He raised his hand, but before he could even swing you neck sliced him in the throat and kicked him down there. He clutched himself as you once again kicked him in his ribs and hope that the blow was enough to keep him down for a bit. You grabbed your heavy aluminium water bottle (those things hurt guys😭 not that I've been hit by one but I accidentally hit myself. it's a great, heavy yet non-obvious self defense tool so carry one around👍) and swung it towards one of his friends. A sickening clang could be audibly heard as you hit him in the head and Congratulations!! You eliminated one more player.

You turned around and swung it towards yet another person who skillfully twisted and yanked your aluminium bottle away from you. This person was similar to your build and was standing in a defensive position, so you kicked the only thing available to you, his shin.

You were surprised as you heard a rather boyish yelp as your victim fell to the ground and grabbed his aching leg. Only then you realized......

Shit it's the previous headmaster's son.

"Oh no!! I didn't mean to kick you are you okay?"_________"I'm fine thank you."

You moved your hand towards the part of his leg which was sprained and saw that he flinched. Clearly he was in pain and seeing that he took care of one of the guys who was hitting on you felt bad so you took him to your house to treat his injury no matter how much he refused.

That was it. That's how he fell for you.

He expected himself to fall for someone who was at the same level of genius as him, but apparently he was wrong.

Why you ask he fell for you? Because you were the only one who can kick his ass purple and speak sweet words to him at the same time.

Seeing that you were an average student, not too good not too bad, he didn't really have a problem with sharing his feelings for you with someone.

The first one to notice it was not Ren, but Karma. Or you could say that Karma found his theory to be correct as he eavesdropped on Gakushuu telling Ren about how he felt for you.

Ren, knowing his manipulating skills encouraged Gakushuu to manipulate one of the teachers to transfer you from class C to class A.

And so you did.

Gakushuu, Ren along with Karma and you. This was a particularly chaotic classroom.

You weren't really complaining, as your grades got better the day you stepped in the class. But you can't shake the feeling that ten pairs of eyes were watching your every movement.

(And lol that was so true😂)

Gakushuu only respectfully watched you and your subtle movements. The way you'd chew on your pencil or nails when you were stuck, the way your eyes turned big round and innocent every time you didn't understand a concept, the way you'd pick on your peach fuzz on your face when you were anxious. Every single habit, every little thing he loved about you, he would have it memorized. Heck when he was feeling stressed out about his future company finances (yes he's planning big) he would pick on his own peach fuzz and smile like an idiot as his heart relaxes and flutters at the same time.

Ren however, watched for your responses to guys. Every time the handsome professor walked in, (admit it, we all have one at some point in our life😏) you would sit up straight, your spine rid of any slouchiness from studying. The way you would cross your legs so your skirt rides up just a bit, and the way your gaze turned sly and your smirk naughty, yes this boy is serious about helping his best friend. Heck he would even come up to you and talk to you to get some type of reaction towards him, but figures out you didn't really like him (ouch!😢)

But Karma stared. And by stared I literally mean stared. Bore holes in the back of your head by staring at you too much. He didn't understand that a guy as corrupt as Gakushuu would fall for a disheveled angel like you. It's not that you weren't beautiful, but the combination of scary principal's son and a smol fluffy bean didn't seem very safe. At times you would even find Karma behaving as an older brother to you. And you weren't one to complain but rather happy that someone in here truly cares for you than judge you for your grades.

Add 7 other girls who were suspicious of you and that's all the people who keep staring at you during the time you're in class.

Every morning you hand in your homework, it was always Gakushuu. You would hand in your homework, he would scan it once and turn around to check others'.

But you knew better than that.

After school was over, you would make your way to the hallway but a strong grip held you back.

"We need to work on your Social Studies. You suck at it."______"But shuu!!!"_______"No buts. Get in the library and wait for me there."

He would drag you to the library and make you study your worst subject (which isn't fun at all🤢) but he would make it a LOT easier for you to understand.

Of course Ren gave him some tips to flirting. Hold her pinky, look in her eyes, compliment her and yada yada yada yada yada......

He did try one of them, but he almost had a heart attack from his heart beating so fast that he decided not to listen to his minio- I mean friend anymore and do it his way.

And honestly he loves his way!!

He loved the cute nicknames you made for him while you whined for him to release you. He loved it the way your face lightens up when he explains there was an easier way to solve an equation.

All the nervousness is his system had vanished.

He also got to the point where when you got an obviously easy question wrong, he would pinch your cheeks while grinning wide.

This made study time a lot easier for you.

You weren't aware that he was like that for and with you only. Only you made him feel that way.

But you found out soon when he got TOO comfortable one day and let it slip out.

"Y/n I think I have a crush on you."

As soon as he said it, blood rushed to your cheeks and drained from his.

Both of you were staring at each other for a hot minute before you broke the silence.

"You're kidding aren't you? I'm not even that smart or that much of a genius in anything. I- but-"

"Y/n I know that. But it's just something about you that I love. I- I can't express in words how much I adore you."

You were starstruck.

Asano Gakushuu. THE Asano Gakushuu likes you!!!!

But you still refused to believe yourself AND his words. Wondering if he was turning into a playboy like Ren.

All you could say was "Then show me."

The library was quiet and you two specifically picked up a spot away from other students, the librarian and surveillance cameras so both of you can goof off. Who knew that this was also the perfect place to kiss?

He gently took your hand as he first stared at your eyes and shifted his gaze to your lips. You acted confident as if you knew how to kiss but god knows you kicked the ass of your first boyfriend before he could even hold your hand.

His gaze stayed on your lips as he licked his and visibly gulped. You wanted to throw a snarky remark but seeing the boy was as edged as a cat you wouldn't dare.

Bringing one of his hands up to your cheek he slightly tilted his head as he came near you before stopping right where your lips weren't touching his but you could feel his minty breath. Obviously waiting for you if you were okay with this, you decided to close that painful space between the two of you.

As soon as your lips touched his, he was in charge. This wasn't a particularly deep or fast kiss. You weren't digging your tongues in each other's mouth but rather just moving your lips to each other, as if giving silent yet intimate messages to each other. His lips slightly glided over yours, and you definitely knew that the way he was kissing you, he was an expert hidden within an amateur. The kiss wasn't heated or passionate in any way, but it was sinfully sweet.

It lasted for about a minute, but felt like an eternity.

Pulling away he stared at you again softly before saying "Thank You" and intertwining your fingers with his.

You were too shocked to react to anything. You were an average student. You got into fights. Your mom always yells at you to behave. Your dad keeps telling you to improve your temper. Why the hell does this boy like you?

He noticed you were staring at him the same way you stared at the blackboard during class when the professor was teaching the quantum theory for the first time.

Now that this boy had finally kissed you, he was bold enough to reach out his thumb and running it over your lower lip before popping it in his mouth.

"Pineapple flavoured lip balm, huh? I thought strawberry was the preferred choice when it came to anything for girls. Including......" his eyes lowered to your legs which felt like they were bare naked in the tiny skirt.

"Shuu!!!! Don't stare at me!!" You shoved him away as he laughed and you covered your face with your sweater paws.

"I'm sorry dear. You are just so adorable I couldn't help myself." He said while stroking your hair.

Little did they know a certain playboy on the other side of the library was paying attention to them the whole time and a redhead was poking his head from above one of the bookshelves.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Californian Dream (Pt. 01 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

Next part (02)->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Lemonade

Ignoring the meaningless chattering, you drink what's left of your water, then put the glass against your neck, hoping the cold will help with the hot weather. Summers in California are always this hot, and since you're under the sun, it doesn't help. Some of your friends, or better saying, the family friends, the people you grew up with, are here again, using your pool as if it was some kind of club they can attend. Standing on this badly shaped circle, you pretend to listen as Ryan goes on about some mansion he helped his father sell this weekend. He's excited, gesticulating a lot, and the others seem to be quite interested too. But not you. Honestly, you couldn't care less.

Through the corner of your eye, you see someone moving on the other side of the huge pool, behind some trees. Turning your head to see it better, you easily recognize the new pool guy, Billy Hargrove. He's been working here for only a couple of months, coming a few times a week to clean the pool or to fix something. You always pay attention to the staff, because nobody else does. You like to know them since they're working at your house after all, and that made you befriend a lot of them throughout the years. But Billy? You haven't even crossed paths with him yet. On purpose.

Billy is by far the most handsome guy you ever met, and you just don't think you can say anything to his face. He probably thinks you're one of the silly, rich chicks he meets on his job, and for some reason, it bothers you.

“(Y/N).” Ryan snaps his fingers on your face, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Are you in there? Aren't you listening?”

“Yup. Sorry, I tuned out for a minute.” Politely, you apologize. “What were you saying?”

“The gala. Who are you going with?”

“Uhm... Not sure yet.” Playing with the empty glass, you move your weight from one leg to the other. “I don't have any good options.”

“What?” Gisele exclaims, giggling. “Robert wants to go with you. Daniel would easily ditch his date for you. And Michael–”

“Don't wanna go with neither of them.” Cutting her off, you decide to just say it. Robert is the most hateful person you ever met. Daniel has been chasing after you for years, it doesn't matter how hard you try to make him understand you don't like him, and every girl he dates, he does it to try and make you jealous. And Michael is a manipulative jerk. All three members of the most prestigious families of California, and desired bachelors. And yet, you can't stand them.

“Who are you going with then? The pool guy?” Gisele gestures at something across the pool, and you know at who.

“Maybe. I bet he's way better than Michael, Daniel, or Robert.” This makes all the five of them laugh, in a very mocking tone. But you mean it. “I might go by myself. Who cares?”

“Are you crazy? Your parents will care, and people will talk, you know that.” Ryan rolls his eyes, lightly slapping his friend's arm. “C'mon, Antony, let's find (Y/N) a fourth option.” The two guys smirk and walk away, and you don't even bother to ask what they're up to. You don't care.

“For real now, (Y/N),” Alice says, running her fingers through her hair. “Gisele is right. The three guys are so into you, and Robert...” She chuckles, exchanging a glance with Gisele. “He's hot. He's... So damn hot.”

“Why don't you go with him then?” You ask her, taking a deep breath and already thinking of an excuse to get away from this conversation and back into the secrecy of your bedroom.

“Because I'm dating.” She answers as if it was the most obvious thing. As if she didn't have a different boyfriend every month. “James Whayland. The one and only, heir to the Whayland fortune? Do you happen to know him?” A rhetoric question, of course. Everyone knows who the Whayland are. “I'm so gonna marry him.”

“You must,” Gisele adds. “You'd be like, stupidly rich.”

And they go on with that, a conversation you don't even try to follow. A lot of girls do that, getting married to join the fortunes and shove more money into their pockets. Your mother herself did it, and she tries to push you into doing the same, pointing out the richest bachelors of California. But you'd never do that. You rather never get married than getting married without love. It's so obvious, yet, if you bring that up, it always becomes an argument. ‘Love comes with time’, she says. ‘Once you're provided financial stability, you'll learn to love the provider.’ None of that sounds appealing to you. You're hoping to fall in love one day. It hasn't happened yet, but you'll patiently wait.

“Hey, Earth to (Y/N).” Ryan raises his voice, and, a little annoyed, you look up at him.

“What?”

“You're welcome.” He says with a wicked smile.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you tilt your head to the side. “For what, Ryan?”

“For getting you the best date ever for the gala, sweetie.” He and Antony laugh, and soon enough the others follow. “The pool guy is taking you to a high society party. How amazing is that?”

It takes a while for you to even process what he's saying, but his mean tone makes you angry. He thinks he's superior to anyone who doesn't have a collection of fancy cars in their garage. “First of all, Ryan, the pool guy has a name, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. You're always close to the staff.” He emphasizes the last word, making a disgusted face.

“Second...” What? Second what? You know you can't go with Billy. That would get people talking. But then, the other options make you sick to even consider them. And honestly, you couldn't care less about what people say. It'll probably get you a hell of a lecture from your parents, a few weeks of gossips and mean comments, but that's it. Soon enough someone else will become the hottest topic. “You know what, forget it.” Putting the empty glass on the table, you walk away, ignoring how they call you, telling you not to be silly.

Maybe the guys are joking. Maybe they're just pulling a prank on you, but there's no problem with finding that out. Walking around the pool and into the garden, you walk around the supply closet, following the low noise of something being put into the metal shelves. The supply closet is open, so you patiently wait on the outside, barefoot on the grass as you move to stand to bellow a tree. Bouncing your leg, you look around, breathing deeply and trying to understand why the hell you decided to face Billy now. He's the only guy who works here you're making sure not to have any contact with.

“Good afternoon.” The voice startles you, and you immediately turn to face him. Billy is closing the closet door shut, eyes focused on you. And yes, he's far more gorgeous from up close. “May I help you, Miss–”

“(Y/N).” You cut him off, cursing yourself for doing so. “You may call me (Y/N).”

He simply nods, walking closer and stopping on a shadow spot too. “Do you need anything from me?”

“Uhm...” For a moment, you gotta think a little to remember what brought you here. “I just wanted to ask if maybe some two jerks came to talk to you... About a party... And... Taking a girl to this party...” Playing with your fingers, you wonder if he already thinks you're a total idiot.

“Yes. They said you needed a date for some gala.” Billy crosses his arms, not looking away from you. “If you need it, I can take you.”

Oh. Would he really do that? “Uhm... Look, Ryan and Antony meant it as a joke.” You gotta be honest, even if it means he'll give up the idea. “I mean, not for me, they're just... They're jerks. And they...” Holy crap. You have to get your shit together. “They thought it would be funny to make you think you could take me to this gala.” Taking a deep breath, you push the words out. “But... I would like it if you could because all my options suck. It's either Michael or Robert or Daniel, and you probably know they're all fighting for the award of the worst person on the face of Earth.”

“It might be really hard to make this decision. Might as well split the award in three.” He speaks up and you giggle. The staff don't usually speak like that about the families they work for. But Billy doesn't seem to care and you like that.

“Yeah. So... I know people will gossip about it but I'd be forever grateful if you could do me this kindness.” You're blushing now, biting your lip. “Because I know it's not your job or anything but I could pay you if you want.”

“There's no need.” Billy shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. “It's a party, right? It will be fun.”

“Oh... About that...” Calling such events ‘parties’ is a misunderstanding. Almost a crime. “These things... Suck. It's super dull, full of rich people donating, trying to donate more them someone else just so they'll show off how rich they really are... You'll absolutely hate it. I do.” Gesturing at yourself, you give him an apologetic look. “I'd owe you for life if you help me get through it without having to put up with any of those assholes.”

Billy nods, looking down before his eyes meet yours again. “I believe I'll have to wear one of those suits right?”

“Well, I'll be in some uncomfortable dress, so we'll both be unhappy about our clothes.” Your mind goes to the lilac dress your mother made you buy, extremely expensive.

“Alright then. It's on Sunday, right?” You nod. “Should I pick you up?”

“Yes. At seven.” He gives a small nod before gesturing at the garden. “I gotta go now.”

“Sure...” Billy waves before walking away, and you stand there, wondering if you should go back to your so-called friends. You're sure Ryan will have that stupid smile on, eager to know what you and Billy have spoken about. And you won't tell anything, but you also don't want to deal with that shit right now, or else you might tell right to their faces how much of a jerk they are. So you decide to follow Billy through the garden, easily finding him by a particular big tree. He's opening a leaf tarp on a clean space on the grass before taking a fan rake. “This tree is dying.” You say, getting his attention. Billy turns around, furrowing his eyebrows. “That's why there are so many fallen leaves. See how some of them seem healthy, normal green leaves? It only happens when the tree is dying.”

“Then you should have someone cut it down before someone gets hurt.” He says, looking a little confused. “Shouldn't you go back to your friends?”

“Yeah, I probably should.” You're tired of all the things you should do, so for today, you won't do them. As silly as it may be. “Do you need some help?” You ask, stepping forward a little.

“No, I'm alright.” It sounds like a question, and you blush from the way he stares at you, for several seconds, before focusing on his task, raking the leaves to the tarp.

“Ok.” Whispering, you move to sit on a wooden table, one of the many you have scattered around the property. You try not to look at Billy too much, noticing how weird it feels to do this. You barely know the guy, he'll be your date for a gala, and now you're awkwardly seated here, watching as he works. Well, it is better than whatever your friends must be talking about now. “So... What exactly do you work with?” You ask, hoping to get any kind of conversation going. “I thought you just took care of the pool.”

“I work for a company. BJ's Associates.” Billy starts, and you take this chance to look at him. Despite the distance, you can see the sweat glistening on his forehead. “They send me to any place I'm needed. Some of them are scheduled weekly, others are random. And–” He makes a pause suddenly, giving you a look. “Are you bored yet?”

“No.” Shrugging your shoulders, you giggle. “I actually wanna know.”

He turns his head to look at the pool, which is a little distant now. Maybe he thinks this is some kind of move, and you wouldn't blame him, judging by the way the guys probably came to talk to him. “That's it. I clean pools, fix cars, might paint walls or something, clean gardens... The list goes on.”

“You know how to fix a car?” Raising an eyebrow, you move to seat on the table, placing both your feet on the wooden bench. “My car is making this weird noise and I'm sure it's not some normal noise.”

“How does it sounds like?”

“Like a clunking, I think... every time I hit the breaks, even when it's softly.”

“It could be some damage to the brake caliper.” He's quick to answer, and you raise your eyebrows, impressed. “Or it's badly mounted.”

“Damn, you're good.” You exclaim, giggling at his funny face.

“I just–”

“(Y/N)!” Amelia's voice reaches you, and Billy stops talking, resuming his job. “I've been looking for you.” The old lady, with her gray hair tied up on a perfect, sophisticated bun, comes to the table you're at, a tray with a jar and six glasses on her hands.

“I've been here chatting with Billy.” You tell as she lays the tray down. “And no, I won't go back to the pool.”

“They're talking about James Whayland.” She starts, rolling her eyes. Amelia is the only one in this house, well, the only one you know who understands you. “Alice Martin was talking about marrying him...?”

“Yup.” A stronger wind messes with your hair, so you use a hand to keep it away from your face. “Something about joining their fortunes and being the king and queen of California. Some shit like that.”

“Poor Alice.” Amelia breathes out, taking a glass and pouring some lemonade on it before handing it over to you. “That Whayland kid is not the nicest guy on Earth.”

“Poor James!” You giggle, putting your glass down and serving her some lemonade too. She doesn't like when you do that, since she's here to serve you. Amelia, the woman who raised you is here for nothing else than to serve you. So unbelievable it almost makes you laugh. “Alice isn't nice either. She can be very manipulative to get what she wants.”

“Don't I know?” She mutters. “Well, I must go. Serve this to your friends.”

“No, no, no. Take your glass and leave the rest. If someone complains tell them I'll drink the whole jar.” Taking the tray from her hands, you place it down on the table again.

“Alright, Miss–”

“(Y/N). Honey. Bunny. Anything, but not this formal stuff, ok?” You correct her, and Amelia gives you a bright smile.

“Alright, (Y/N).” She repeats before turning around and walking away, cordially greeting Billy.

Taking a sip from your glass, you smile to notice Amelia's lemonade is as good as always. A little too sour for your parents taste, but you like it better this way. Your attention goes back to Billy, still dealing with the fallen leaves, despite being almost done. If you ask, he might say no, so you just pour another glass before jumping to the ground, making your way over him. “Here.” Raising your voice, you get his attention. And once again he has this confused expression on his face when he sees the glass. “Lemonade. It's hella hot out here and this might help.”

“Thanks.” Squinting his eyes a little, he takes the glass from your hand, taking long sips, drinking almost everything.

“Sorry if it's a little too sour. I don't like much sugar on it and Amelia knows so...” When he's done, he gives you back the glass. “Why are you looking at me like that? I swear I'm not a ghost.”

“That's not it. I'm just not used to being treated like that by the owners.” Billy's voice gets a little darker, and he pronounces the last word with certain anger. But you can imagine exactly why. Most of the people you know aren't very fond of their employees. They're just the people they pay off to do what they can't do by themselves.

“I know how some of the families can be mean.” Drumming your fingers on the empty glass, you stand there, staring at Billy, just now noticing the deep, beautiful shade of blue from his eyes. Involuntary, you breathe out, smiling.

“What?”

“Nothing!” You burst out, clearing your throat and finding your legs again, making the way back at the table. “I–”

“(Y/N)!” A shout startles you, and when you turn at the source of the voice, you see it's Gisele. “Get back here! You won't guess who just got here.”

“If it isn't Michael Jackson ready to perform Beat It, I'll be disappointed.” You mutter, only loud enough for Billy to hear it as you walk back to the pool.

“Call me if it's him,” Billy says and you giggle, giving him one last look.

It's not Michael. Well, it is, but not Jackson, just Michael Rothford. He stands by the pool, where everyone gathers around him. Trying not to look pissed, you move closer, offering a polite, fake smile. “Good afternoon, Mike. How have you been?”

“I'm way better now.” He answers, and you try to ignore how everyone moves a little, giving you more space to move closer to Michael. He takes your hand, giving it a shake, and awkwardly squeezing it softly. “I'm here to ask, once again, for you to let me take you to Sunday's gala.”

The two idiots, Antony and Ryan start giggling, and you know exactly why. “Sorry, Mike, I can't.” Pulling your hand away, you cross your arms. “I already have someone, so...” Thank God you have the perfect excuse, and it's not even a lie. You're so damn relieved you won't be forced to attend to such a boring event with someone like Michael.

“Who?” He snaps, suddenly pissed. “Daniel is going with that Angela chick. Robert, you can't stand. Andrew isn't in the country, Willian–”

“You don't know him, alright?” Cutting him off, you sigh.

“Oh, shit,” Ryan mutters, and you give him a look. He has a hand covering his mouth, trying to control a laugh. “You're really going to the gala with the pool guy.” Antony burst into laughter, and the others try to control themselves not to.

“You rather go with the staff than with me?” Michael sounds offended as if he was punched in the face. “Are you kidding me, (Y/N)?”

Quickly, you try to think of something to say. You can't say the truth, that he's a hateful human being you can't stand being next to. But nothing comes to your mind. “No, I'm not. I... Actually wanna go with Billy.”

“Honestly, (Y/N), screw you.” He barks, and before you can answer, he grabs both your shoulders and pushes you straight into the water.

Everything happens way too fast for you to process, so there was no way you could tell him you absolutely can't swim. So the moment you hit the water, you just sink, your body moving to the bottom, way too far from the surface. You do try moving your legs a bit, uselessly. But you're suddenly pulled, strong arms moving you through the water until you finally reach the surface, gasping for air. Breathing fast, the terror finally starts kicking in, and you push yourself up, stumbling a little, ignoring all the hands that offer help. Once you're out of the water, seated on the edge, you finally see who saved you, Billy, also pushing himself up, only with a lot more grace than you. You exchange a glance, and his hand is the one you take, pulling yourself back to your feet.

“You can't swim?” You hear Michael's voice, a curse caught in your throat. “I never met a Californian who can't swim.”

Not minding the small crowd around, you make you walk to Michael, losing no time before slapping him right on the face, the loud noise of your wet hand colliding to his cheek startling some of your friends. “Asshole!” You yell before storming away, embarrassed, still struggling to catch your breath, feeling cold thanks to your soaked clothes.

“Hey.” Someone calls, but you ignore them, walking fast into the house. “(Y/N).” Your arm being grabbed makes you stop walking and turn around, ready to make hell rain on whoever it is, but your fury melts away when you see Billy. “Are you ok?”

Taking a deep breath, you relax a little, nodding. “Yeah, I just... Got scared.” He lets go of your arm, but you don't step away, looking into his blue, calming eyes. “Thank you, though. You saved my life.”

“Can't believe he threw you at the water like that.”

“See why I need you to take me to that stupid party?” Crossing your arms, you pace around. “I can't even begin to imagine how it'd be to spend the night with that prick.” Looking down, you notice how you and Billy are dripping, soaking the white floor. “I gotta go change, and you should... I don't know. At least you got to enjoy the pool for a while.”

“I'd rather enjoy it when you're not drowning.”

“Yeah, that would be better.” Shyly smiling, you give a step backwards. “I gotta go... But thanks again.” Stopping in your tracks, you decide to be just a little brave. Stepping closer, you tiptoe to place a quick kiss on Billy's cheek, before turning around and rushing upstairs to your bedroom.

×

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @alwaysadreamingoptimist

[saktetsu]

'You're Mine' Demon!Oikawa x Princess!Reader [Chapter 1]

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Breeding Kink, Size Kink, Over stimulation, Manipulation

This Chapter doesn't have Smut yet. Though I'll only continue this if someone asks for more. I don't wanna write something nobody wants to read.

It was a Dangerous World that they lived in, they all knew that. But despite the Danger that lurked around every corner, behind ever door; [F/N] [L/N], the Princess of Haikaru remained Innocent.

She had never crossed paths with Danger, had never experienced what it was like to lose something dear. The People of Haikaru purposely protected and shielded the Princess off from any sort of Darkness. She was their light, a light that they swore to Protect.

But of course, protecting her came with a major set back. Their walls less guarded from the Demons that lurked the night. But enough to keep them out. Well, most of them.

"Send him to the Dungeons, keep him out of sight and Lock him up as much as possible." The King, ordered his men.

"Yes, Sir." They voiced with a salute. "Move on your feet you Wretched Demon." One of the Soldiers kicked the said Demon, causing him to snarl out of annoyance.

"Now that's just rude." The horned Male barked out, his fangs showing.

"Move."

"Fine, fine~"

The Group of Guards surrounded the Demon, leading him slowly towards the entrance of the dungeons.

"Get in." One of them opened the door, shoving the Evil Entity inside. Soon after they entered as well, making sure to chain the Cyan Horned Man against the Single Wooden Pole. "This should keep you in place, Oikawa Tōru."

"Oh my, so you do know my Name? I'm quite flattered. Am I perhaps famous around here?"

"In your case yes. Yes you are. We've heard of what you've done to Humans like us. Demons should be banished, specifically a Demon as awful as you" And that was it, the last thing that the Group of Mortals said to the Beast. Leaving him alone in the empty open space, where only the chains that dug through his skin lay.

Oikawa moved his Left Arm slightly, hoping to snap the chains off with a bit of Magic. Only to be met by a sharp pain striking all throughout his body.

"Now, I wouldn't do that if I were you. These chains? They were made to keep Demons like you in place. To keep you from causing anymore trouble than you already have." The Royal turned on his heel. "You deserve to be treated like this."

"Dad, what's in there?" [F/N] pointed towards the cellar, where 2 Guards stood against.

"My sweet Princess, there is no need to be curious about what is within the door. You must avoid that place, for you are not safe there." Her Father replied, patting her head softly while a smile.

"Alright Father" She nodded her head slowly, yet curiosity still lingered inside her thoughts.

Eventually when night began to fall, [F/N] snuck out of her Room. Descending down the nice tiled stairs to approach her destination. She made sure to avoid the soldiers who were put on nightly duty.

Peeking around the corner, she spotted the two guards who were put to stay in front of the door. To her luck, they've fallen asleep. And was on the floor crouching.

[F/N] approached the two, giving them a slight poke to make sure that they are indeed asleep before taking what seems to be the key to the room.

As soon as she unlocked the door, she pushed it open. Making sure that she wouldn't make a single sound in the progress.

From what her Father had said before, this place was dangerous. Yet as soon as she stepped into the so called 'dangerous' room. She wasn't expecting to be met by a Handsome man, straddled with chains around his body. His arms had burns including his neck.

Without much hesitation she shut the door behind her slowly and approached the stranger. "Oh my God..- Are you alright?"

The man slowly opened his eyes, lifting his chin up to meet [E/C] orbs. Oikawa's eyes slightly widened, the scent of the most purest mortal he has ever smelled rushed through his nostrils. Instinctively, he leaned forward, causing the chains to burn his arms a tad bit more. Tōru grunted from the pain, and was unable to Heal himself unless they were off.

He was expecting her to run, to scream as soon as she saw his horns. But what he didn't expect, was her leaning in to slightly brush her finger against them. "What.. What are these? They're so cool"

Oh my, he wasn't expecting any of this at all. His lips quirked up into a devilish smirk, his eyes darkened with the thought of how innocent this little Mortal was. He often went out to many Villages to capture, and redeem souls. Hunted and killed Mortals who stood in his way to feast on their Flesh. But not only does he feed off of flesh, he also feeds off of arousal.

And here he was, chained to the floor with a full course buffet standing before him, offering her concern and curiosity. He could capture her, take her back to the underworld where he will make her his. His to love, his to cherish, and his to claim. "They're my Horns [F/N], you like them?"

[F/N] nodded slowly, she didn't question the Horned man how he knew what her name was. Instead, she maneuvered her way over to the source of the chains, quickly disengaging them.

"What.. The.. -" Tōru felt the chains loosen around him, his eyes darting over to the Precious Girl he sought to claim. "Why.. Why did you do that?" He questioned.

"You seem like a good Demon so.. I thought.. Maybe my Father was wrong about you. Plus um.. It looked like the chains were preventing you from talking properly without wincing in pain"

'She truly is innocent. Fuck, I want her even more now' he stood up, brushing the dust off his legs before completely healing his wounds. "Is that so? You're quite an observant little thing aren't you? But have you ever heard of a Good Demon?"

[F/N] shook her head. "No, I've never even met one up until now"

'Seriously? They were trying to protect her from us? How pathetic, yet rewarding..'

"Oh, well the pleasure's all mine little one. I am Tōru Oikawa. Don't bother telling me your Name." He walked closer, expecting her to back away in fear that she had made the wrong choice. But once again he was proven wrong when she didn't move at all. Instead her eyes remained staring back into his. "How can I repay you Princess..~?"

"Become my Friend"

Oikawa was stunned, his mouth ajar as his eyes grew. "Excuse me? Could you, perhaps-- I don't know--- Repeat that?"

"I said.. Become my.. Friend. My Father doesn't let me go out of the Castle walls, and I don't really have Friends here. I mean I do get along with the people around here but they never really showed interest in trying to get to know me"

"I see.. So you want me, the King of the Underworld, to become your Friend?" Without much of a reply, [F/N] nodded her head vigorously.

"Alright then, I'll be your Friend Little One. I'll make sure to visit you once in a while in your room." Oikawa leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Make sure to not tell anyone with our little Meet ups alright?"

"I won't, I promise.." [F/N]'s cheeks reddened a bit, not expecting to get a kiss on the forehead by the King of the Underworld himself.

But what she didn't know, was that the kiss contained more than just a Thank You. It was a way to tell the other Demons similar to him to back off as soon as they smelled her essence. With the invisible pendant forming on her forehead only for demons to admire, she was practically untouchable.

Days passed with Oikawa constantly visiting [F/N] in secret. Their Friendship growing into a much more passionate one. The lingering touches he dreamt of doing to her were kept at bay, fearing that he might ruin his only chance to claim her.

"Tōru?" [F/N] called out in a soft voice, she nudged her Demon friend on the shoulder a bit.

"Huh" His eyes widened slightly, being snapped out of his thoughts. "What is it?"

"You've been thinking for a while. What has you troubled?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." He slowly lets out a long, low sigh as he feels his hair through his fingers.

"Well, if you say s-"

A sudden knock came from the door, capturing both Tōru's and [F/N]'s attention. Her eyes widened in panic as she quickly got up, ushering Oikawa to leave before he was seen.

"Yes? I'm here!" She replied, her voice was soft and timid compared to her usual out going self.

"Is something wrong?" The knight asked from behind the door. "Your Father sent me here to accompany you. Apparently you've been more distant lately, spending most of your time in your room.. Is there.. Anything I could do to help?"

[F/N] slowly opened the door, peaking through to see who it was. And to her surprise, it was Iwaizumi Hajime. a Friend of hers from a far away village. The only Friend that her Father allowed to blossom. "H-Hajime-"

"I know, it's been a while hasn't it? [F/N]." He smiled ever so softly before staring back at the door that kept him from slinging his arms around her. "Mind if I get in?"

"Not at a- eep!" She stilled, feeling a pair of hands rest on either side of her waist. Slowly moving down to her core. She turned to look at Tōru who had a shit eating grin, obviously proud of the reaction he got from you. "Tōru.. Not now.. What are you doing.. -"

"Is someone there with you?" Iwaizumi asked with a concerned look on his face.

"N-NO- No, I was just startled. You haven't been in my room for.. Over 6 years y'know, and it's kind of overwhelming"

"R-Right... You're making me feel old [F/N]"

"That's because you are, blehhh" Hajime chuckled, forcefully pushing the door open with his strong arms.

"Alright, that's it you little trouble maker. I'm coming in whether you like it or not"

"NO- WAIT N-" She quickly turned to look at Tōru, but was met with an empty room. No trace of him but her bed and along with her other furniture.

Iwaizumi stepped in the room, chuckling at her childish actions. "You seriously can't be that embarrassed with me being here, are you?"

"Kind of... But um, apart from that. How's your Village? Everything alright?"

"Everything's been normal. Not to mention the Grand King hasn't visited us for over a week. It's quite a relief, yet terrifying." He walked further into the room, taking his helmet off with a Huff.

"I wonder why.." [F/N] mumbled out softly. Of course she knew why, she was the reason that Oikawa has been rarely seen out and about. He's always hanging out in her room, chatting, and laughing with her as if he wasn't some demonic entity. But at the end of the day, he's still the King of the Underworld. "How long are you gonna stay here for? Not that I want you to leave or anything"

"Maybe for a couple of days. You know, until you brighten up a bit."

"Haji, I'm okay I promise."

"You Promise?"

"Pinky Promise"

Hajime stared straight into her eyes with concern, but eventually sighed. "Fine, but if your Dad yells at me for not cheering you up? You're so in for it."

"Pfft, yeah, yeah" She quickly plopped herself beside Iwaizumi, slinging her arms around him with a cheerful smile. "I missed you"

He stuttered out a small 'Thank you' before wrapping his arms around her waist. His cheeks were painted pink as he dipped his head against her shoulder.

Little did the two know, a certain horned man was watching them, anger flowing all throughout his body as his fists clenched. She was supposed to be his, not that porcupines woman.

[tdoompoet]

Keep You: Preservation of Papyrus

Sans had snapped from the humans endless genocide routes, and so took the option away from them by killing everyone himself first. After so many times doing it on his own, he grew tired (and desparate) from the loneliness. He can't keep it up, but he can't stop, either.

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(Full story under Keep Reading, with alt link to Ao3 in notes)

(Potentially triggering drawing at end of story)

(CW: injury, violence, genocide, decapitation, body horror)

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Keep You:

Preservation of Papyrus

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Not again.

He couldn't do it again.

Yet here he was, covered in dusty remains once more, the population under the mountain made silent.

It had become routine:

Wake up.

(was he really awake?)

Recognize the world had Reset.

(again. he had to do it all again. and again. and again--)

Spend an hour staring at the ceiling, bracing himself for the day's work ahead.

(--again. and again. and again. he had to--)

Slip by Papyrus, busy preparing a fresh batch for his spaghetti trap.

("Today I, The Great Papyrus, WILL capture a human! Nyeh-heh-heh!! --Brother! Don't forget to Calibrate! Your! Puzzles" --yet again--)

Murder Everyone.

After so many repeats (thousands? tens of thousands? how many by the kid's hand, how many by his own?), he was able to go about his self-appointed duty on auto-pilot. Easy enough to slip on his smile, walking alongside the townsfolk and make them laugh or groan at corny jokes as though it were any other day, until they were out of sight of anyone else. Then they couldn't react to anything anymore.

Easy enough for the first dozen or so, as he built up his first few levels of LoVe (don't think about how with his single ATK lousy damage that the only ones he could take down swiftly and quietly at first still being in stars damned stripes--). Even easier once the LoVe trickled into his Soul and what little guilt he could still feel was replaced with adrenaline and the growing reinforcement of the knowledge that he would soon be completely alone in this world once more.

But things would be different this time.

He dusted his way through Snowdin, then Waterfall, and Hotland along with the Core, and finally on his way to the Capitol, careful to keep a good distance between his brother and himself even as the population dwindled to be replaced by gusts of dust, and his growing LoVe became more and more obvious to the point that others went on the defensive as soon as they laid eyes on his on imbalanced red-tinted gaze.

No one would be allowed to stop him. He must complete this before the human arrived and destroyed everyone themself. (was he really any better than the kid, or even that damned flower?)

An encounter with the King would have been likely to end in Sans' favor even before he gained any LoVe, what with the King's own LoVe and guilt making him weak to the mercies of the Judge. This, it couldn't even be counted as a fight. Sans couldn't afford to stop and think of why, if it was because the King believed he deserved the Judgement for all his own sins when there was nothing left to lose, or if it was the shock of grief and betrayal from one of his most trusted-- No, can't think about that. There was a goal to complete.

One last task. And then..

The trip to the Room of Souls was quick. Anyone who earned a Royal title was made aware of its exact location, and given a general knowledge of how the Soul containers functioned. No point in limiting the information to the King alone if his death would also result in the loss of the six souls the Underground had managed to collect so far. No point in denying them what little HoPe was left to cling to.

Now, they were Sans' only means of preserving his own last HoPe.

Soul container collected and stashed in his inventory, a detour through New Home where he quickly found and claimed that damned knife (so many Resets since the kid was last able to hit him, and that scar-that-never-happened still fucking BURNED), and a shortcut later found him blinking a gust of dust mixed snow out of his sockets. And ahead of him on the path, same spot as every other time it had come to this point--

Deep breath. Don't get distracted yet. He was so close to finishing this.

So close to saving Papyrus from the non-existent mercies of the creature masquerading as a human.

Papyrus stood there, seemingly expecting him (as he did every time it came to this point of the timeline), the small remainder of hope being replaced with that soul wrenching mix of grief, disappointment, and ever-present Mercy once he took in the changes to his brother. Once he saw the effects of the LoVe he'd earned.

"Brother."

Sans said nothing. Time was of the essence. The human would be through the ruins soon. But--

"All the Dogi are gone. And all of our neighbors."

"..yea." There was no denying the evidence, he fully knew and accepted what he'd done, but somehow it was still a struggle to get the admission out past the sudden tightness in his non-existent throat at admitting it to his brother.

"Undyne isn't answering her phone."

Sans said nothing. The reason why was obvious. He can't think of how his actions hurt his brother just yet. He'll accept everything Papyrus has to throw at him once this is over. He deserves nothing less.

"She's never going to, is she. Nor any of our other friends." A statement. Not a question.

Every other timeline, he ended it immediately upon shortcutting here before his brother had the chance to talk him down. To allow his guilt and grief to overwhelm him before he could finish and result in his brother being left to the tender (non) mercies of the kid. But if this worked (it WOULD work) Papyrus would be able to say anything he wanted to his Soul's content. He'd be ALIVE to do so.

"..i'm sorry, Papyrus. i have to do this." He was cracking. He needed to get his shit together. He needed to finish before that door opened and everything was ruined.

"Brother, this isn't the way to solve any problem! You KNOW this! Talk to me, I don't underst--"

His barely-wavering appeal, a tangled mess of bravery, belief in his brother, and wet with tears of grief finally released when the truth could no longer be denied, was cut off by a wave of bones surging up behind him. Familiarity from years of training with his brother had him dodging forward into Sans' space without a thought. It was playing dirty, but right now that didn't matter.

Sans took advantage of the familiar routine, manipulating Papyrus into position to move under his outstretched arm, yank him down by the scarf, and within a blink the cursed knife was out of his inventory and through Papyrus' neck.

Everything stopped as quickly as it started, Papyrus never even having a chance to recover from the shock before his body started dusting away beneath him.

"W-well, that's not what I expected," Papyrus managed to say. Sans' soul damn near broke right then from hearing the familiar words usually spoken to the human all those genocide runs ago now directed at himself. But he couldn't let it affect him. Not now. No time.

With speed few would believe he possessed, the knife was dropped, the Soul container was out of his inventory, on the ground, opened, and the orange soul of Bravery tossed aside without a thought. With hands starting to shake, Papyrus' head was reverently lowered inside in its place.

The lid was quickly sealed. Sans remained crouched, staring into the jar and shaking with anticipation as the rest of Papyrus dissolved to dust beside him. The scarf caught up in a sudden gust of wind, fluttering down to catch around himself and the container holding what (HoPefully) remained of his brother. It was hard to tell whether it felt more like a threatening noose or a comforting embrace.

(It was his brothers. Of course there was only ever one option it could be, regardless of what Sans thought he deserved.)

The silence stretched on, Sans refusing to break eye contact for a moment even as a stinging mix of magic and dust dripped into his straining sockets. He couldn't look away, not even to blink. Not until he was sure it worked. Not until--

"Brother, I believe we need to have a talk. There are much better ways to solve problems than shoving people into jars! Well, parts of people! That was very rude! I was very attached to my body! And where did you even find a jar that already seemed to have people parts in it?? They--!!!"

Sans couldn't help it. The tension melted out of him, body falling into a heap between the jar containing his ranting (LIVING!) brother and the dissolving human soul. Tremors wracked him as dreaded anticipation of failure switched too quickly into hysterical laughter, the disbelief of success overwhelming.

Alive. Papyrus was still alive, and still very much himself. Well, until the shock wore off, at least. He was well aware he had a lot to make up to Papyrus for, not that he could ever make up for everything he had done. But Papyrus was safe, ALIVE. With him, and unable to needlessly sacrifice himself to the human yet again.

Sans managed to save him, and he would never have to be alone with his ghosts again.

.

.

.

At the far end of the path, through the woods and over the bridge, a stone door creaked open. The human child stepped out into the snow.

--------------------

A.N. Wasn't sure how to do it, but had the idea of the human coming out of the ruins and being horrified out of their genocidal stupor at the image of Sans gleefully hugging the jar containing his brother's decapitated head, evidence that he'd willfully done it surrounding him. Who knows, maybe it would be enough of a shock to get them to reconsider their choices up to now.

Alternatively, there was the idea that Sans would manage to evade the human while keeping the Papyrus jar close to him at all times (perhaps he even did this early on before killing everyone else), and.. just enjoying what he can of his brother's company before using him as a last resort EXP boost, even going so far as to break the jar and finish dusting his brother in front of the human for the extra shock factor.

But I couldn't bring myself to go that route. With Papyrus having the chance to natter on and chip away at his brother's mental walls while trapped in the soul container, I don't think Sans could have brought himself to murder Papyrus a second time in one run.

[stevesnailbat]

fear of the (un)known | steve harrington

chapter eight : will you call my name?

summary: Grace, or 007 as she had been called, finally escaped Hawkins Lab after seventeen long years. But, freedom is a long harder than she thought it would be to maintain.

warnings: the Russians are here! more mutual pining, a little bit of jealousy, angst

word count: 3.2K

a/n: only four parts left! we’re getting into season 3 details now, so it’ll pick up now :) gif by @harringtown

read the rest HERE!

If there was one thing that Grace despised about living in the cabin, it would be the rules that Hopper tried to set out for her. She was never one for going against the rules, but Hop’s rules for her specifically were—to say the least—ridiculously strict. She couldn’t take sitting in the house for any longer, to be honest. The idea of getting out for the day was a redundant and resounding thought in her mind, ever since the birthday party that Steve threw for her and El.

Grace was dying for some human interaction once again. It wasn’t a need to use her powers anymore, just a need for some kind of conversation that didn’t revolve around some stupid western that Hop and El liked to watch together.

She knew it was wrong to listen and wait for Hop to leave to come out of her room, but she couldn’t lie to his face. She couldn’t look and him and say she would be there to watch over El and the cabin when she wasn’t going to be, it was too hard to lie to him. Grace slipped into a t-shirt and jeans before moving quietly into the kitchen and towards the front door, careful not to disturb El or let her know she was going somewhere. 

Once she got out of the front door as quietly as possible, there was only one place on her mind: the new mall. Grace had seen ads for Starcourt on the TV at least a hundred times, and she was a little too excited to go. She’d talked to Hopper about it a few times, but was shut down every time by the excuse that too many people were there. Steve had mentioned the mall at the birthday, and Grace noted his complaints about working at the ice cream shop and wearing a ’stupid sailor uniform'. She knew she wouldn’t know anyone else there, so she was on a mission to find Steve and see the said uniform with her own eyes.  

It didn’t take long to get to the mall from the cabin, honestly. She wasn’t sure how she got there so easily, but didn’t question her own abilities. Walking into the mall was shocking to her, the amount of people buzzing around the mall was much larger than she expected. Navigating through the sea of people was a challenge, but her mind was only fixed on one thing—finding Steve.

The ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy!, was quite busy when she walked towards it, but Steve was nowhere to be found behind the counter or in the store. There was just one girl standing behind the counter, her name tag read Robin and she had headphones on, she was intently reading some small book. Before she stepped foot into the actual store, a hand on her arm made her flinch and turn quickly in the owner’s direction. Her stress was eased when she was only faced with Steve and Dustin, both wearing a look of confusion on their faces. Steve had a pair of binoculars in one hand and was nearly sitting inside the large bush he was leaning over. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, concern lacing his words as he let go of her arm. 

“I got bored at home.” Grace shrugs, pointing to the binoculars in his hand. “What’re you doing?"

“That’s—That’s not important.” Steve stammers, taking them off his neck to set them down in front of him. “Grace, you’re gonna get into some deep shit if you stay here. It’s not safe. I can take my lunch and take you back—“

“Oh, so now you’re gonna act like Hop and shove me inside for my whole life?” she snaps with a glare, raising an eyebrow at Steve while Dustin giggles about Steve’s shocked expression. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Steve. I just wanted to get out for a little bit and get some ice cream, no harm in that, right?”

Before Steve can respond, Dustin nudges his arm harshly. Steve groans in annoyance and turns to face the boy, listening as he mumbles something under his breath to him. The two of them aren’t the quietest, so it’s not hard for Grace to overhear something about ‘the Russians’ and ‘helping with the code’. Her eyes go wide at the thought of interacting with Russians again, panic striking through her for a fearful moment. Steve shakes his head rapidly and mumbles something to Dustin about the situation being dangerous, but Dustin only rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Grace again. 

“You know Russian, right?” Dustin questions, a satisfied smile on his lips as she nods at him. “And you’ve worked against them for years—“

“Dustin—“ Steve says, but the glares that both Grace and Dustin shoot him are enough to shut him up.  

“Long story short, we cracked a secret Russian code and we need help finding out what they’re doing. I think you could really help us with this.” Dustin explains quickly. “Do you want to help?”

“I don’t—“

“I’ll help.” she says, cutting Steve off. 

Despite the fear and bad feelings creeping up within her about the situation, she sits down and listens to their explanation. It’s a lot to take in at first, but she Dustin plays the voice recording to her to confirm that they were correct in the translation. Grace repeats exactly what they had assumed, then Dustin tells her that they were scouring the mall for some sign of the evil Russians. She agrees to stay, simply because she’s worried about Steve putting himself into danger once again. "You see anything?” Dustin questions, turning to Steve who was staring through the binoculars he’d brought. "Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for.” Steve says simply, staring through the binoculars.

"Evil Russians.” Dustin replies. 

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve quips, sighing at Dustin’s vague response. 

"Tall, blond, not smiling.” Dustin explains and Steve hums in response. "Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing."

"Right, okay, duffel bags.” Steve mumbles in return, binoculars moving towards the upper level of the mall. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"What?” Dustin and Grace say together, looking in the direction of Steve’s binoculars to see what he’s looking at. 

"Anna Jacobi's talking with that meathead Mark Lewinsky.” he nearly whines, frowning as he stares up at them. 

The slightest tinge of jealous pangs in Grace’s chest at the thought of Steve looking at another girl, but she stops herself. It wasn’t her place to tell him who he could pine after, not now at least.

“Now’s not the time, Steve.” Grace sighs, shooting a weak glare in his direction.

"If you're not gonna focus, just gimme the binoculars.” Dustin remarks, grabbing one side of the binoculars out of Steve’s hands.

"Aw, Jesus Christ, whatever happened to standards? I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench.” Steve gripes, continuing his fixation on the couple while resisting Dustin’s grasp.

"Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?” Dustin snaps, tugging the binoculars from Steve’s hands.

"Stop, hey. Stop.” Steve groans, trying to take the strap from his own neck.

"Give me those." Dustin remarks, wrapping the strap of the binoculars around his neck. 

"I don't get why you're looking at girls. You have the perfect one in front of you.”

There’s a silence that rings between the three of them for a moment. Grace’s heart races and her mind whizzes, trying to rack her brain for what Dustin might have to say in the moment. All she hoped was that he didn’t call her out in front of Steve, or mention her at all. 

"Seriously, if you say Robin again—“ Steve starts.

“Robin.” Dustin interjects.

"No, don't. No."

"Robin, Robin, Robin."

"Stop, no, no, no."

"Robin. Robin. Robin."

“No."

“Robin."

“No! No, man, she's not my type.” Steve stammers, avoiding Grace’s gaze as a blush creeps up on his cheeks. “She's not even…in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?”

“What's your type again? Not awesome?” Dustin implores.

Steve hesitates for another moment, knowing he can’t answer truthfully in front of Grace. He wants to say that his type is specifically the black-haired, green-eyed, sweet lab escapee that’s sitting next to him, but he knows he shouldn’t. He looks in Grace’s direction for a moment, noting the reserved look in her eyes at the mention of another girl. She gives him an unconvincing smile before he looks back to Dustin, rolling his eyes at the boy’s statement. 

“Thank you.” he grumbles, rolling his eyes with a sigh of annoyance. 

The next hour passes by quickly, and before they know it, Robin has the code cracked. They spend the next few hours planning out their next moves, finally whipping up a plan to find where the Russians were meeting. The four of them stake out on the roof of the mall with the singular pair of binoculars, despite the pouring rain that soon ensued after they stepped foot outside. With the help of Robin’s cracked code, they find the entrance the Russians use quite easily. Steve and Dustin argue over the binoculars once the Russians go inside the suspicious storage room, a loud boom that alerts the Russians sounding through the pelting rain. 

They all hide beneath the ledge of the roof, breathing heavily as they get away with the not-so slick spy moves. Grace looks down between her and Steve, noticing her hand interlocked with his—it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. They glance at each other with wide eyes, but don’t say anything as their hands separate. They stand up from the ground and rush towards the door, getting there in just enough time to miss the guard who runs up the stairs. It’s a terrifying moment, and Grace wants nothing more than to use her powers to manipulate the Russians into not seeing them, but it’s too much of a risk.

There isn’t much said between the four of them as they walk nearly miss the bad situation. They walk towards the front of the mall while exchanging a few words about what they’d do next, but were too scared to discuss it in too much detail while they were still in the empty mall. The rain slowed down for a moment, letting them get out to the parking lot without too much trouble. 

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Steve asks Grace, watching her walk away from the three of them and towards the bike rack.

“Home?” she says, looking over to them with a furrowed brow.

“No, I can drive you home—“

“Steve, you don’t have to—“

“I’m not asking, I’m telling.” Steve says, walking towards her to grip onto the handlebars of her bike. “I’ll put the bike in the backseat and drive you home. It’s already dark and it might start pouring again. I don’t want to be responsible if you go missing.”

Grace only looks up at him with a resistant glare, even though she knew he was right. She was already going to be in enough trouble for sneaking out, the least she could do was get a safe ride home. As much as Hopper didn’t like the idea of her and Steve getting involved, he couldn’t say much, considering he was nearly her chauffeur and guardian at this point. 

“Where am I gonna sit?” Dustin groans, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

“You can squeeze in the back with the bike.” he responds, rolling the bike over to the car. 

Dustin gets into the back of the car while mumbling under his breath about being in the back, but never complains too loud. They say goodbye to Robin and leave the mall, heading towards Dustin’s house first. It doesn’t take long to get there, and Dustin is gone from the back seat and running into the house to beat the rain that was starting up again.

The sound of Steve’s fingers drumming on the steering wheel distracted Grace’s thoughts as they drove towards the cabin. She looked over to him as he focused on the road, her gaze floating from his lips to his nose and finally to his hair. His hair had grown out significantly since she’d met him in the winter, but sometime else had changed. 

She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off the shining, dirty blonde that had recently shown up in his hair for the entirety of the day. They framed his face perfectly, the blonde highlighting the slight tan that he’d gotten from the summer. Even in the dark, Grace could see the moonlight shimmering on the light, slightly damp strands. She couldn’t help but stare, and Steve could feel her eyes on him as he drove. 

“What?” he questions hesitantly, eyes flickering over to meet hers for a short moment. 

She didn’t say anything at first, but leaned over the console to hold a strand of his hair in her fingers. 

“Your hair.” she says simply, twirling the blonde piece between two fingers.

“What—What about it?” he asks, feeling like his heart might just explode from the attention she was paying him.

“It’s different.” she responds, looking from his hair to his flushed cheeks and wide eyes. “Lighter. Did you do it?”

“Did I? No—No. It’s just from the sun.” he lies, earning an incredulous grin from Grace, seeing right through his deception.

“Did you get it done?” she asks again, running her fingers through the ends of his hair.

“You can’t give me shit for it.” he says with a hesitant nod, blushing profusely as she giggles and smiles with satisfaction.

“I won’t tell anyone.” she promises, finally dropping her hand from his hair as she eases back into her seat. “It’s pretty, Steve.”

Steve is disappointed when she drops her hand back into her lap, frowning for a moment at the loss of contact. A shy smile grows on his lips at the compliment, his heart swelling with adoration as he nearly melts at her words. He knew he was in too deep, but words of praise and love from her really solidified the way he was feeling.

His car pulls up to the cabin not long after, but neither of them want to be the first to get out. There’s a feeling of confusion lingering between them, both of them wondering if the other is thinking about the same thing. Steve puts the car in park and opens his door, getting into the back seat to grab the bike. Grace gets out of the passenger seat and walks towards him, taking the bike from his hands when he gets it out of the car. 

“Thanks for taking me home, Steve.” she says, resting the bike on a tree near the cabin.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Couldn’t leave you to bike all the way out here on your own.” Steve says with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Listen, you do not have to get involved in this situation at all. We—We can take care of it and I don’t want you to get hurt because we’re doing dangerous shit again.”

“Steve, you do remember that I can manipulate people’s minds and protect you with my powers, right?” Grace says, taking a step towards him to cup his cheeks softly. “I’m gonna help, you don’t have a say in that. I want to keep you safe.”

“Y—Yeah, okay. I just—just don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.” he says breathlessly, taken aback by the feeling of her hands on his skin.

Steve wants nothing more than to lean down and hold her, to kiss her and tell her that he’s so madly in love with her. His eyes flicker from hers and to her lips for a moment, feeling a strong temptation taking over. He can tell she feels it too, as she leans into him even more as he stares down at her lips. As Steve leans in, the front door to the cabin slams open to reveal an angry Hopper in the doorway. 

“Grace, I swear to God—“ Hop starts, but calms himself before saying anything too bold. “Just—Just get up here. You too, Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at his words, looking to Grace for a moment. She gives him the same curious gaze when they lock eyes, unsure of what was about to happen. They both walk up the stairs, feeling like young teens again getting caught by their parents doing something they weren’t supposed to. Hop doesn’t look too angry, but more annoyed than anything. 

“I’ll deal with you in a minute, go ahead inside.” Hop says to Grace, and she nods quickly before looking at Steve with a sympathetic frown as she walks inside. 

Hopper lets out a loud sigh as the front door closes, finally looking over to Steve. He’s standing at the edge of the porch awkwardly, an uneasy feeling in his chest as Hop looks in his direction. Steve has a hunch about what the conversation will entail, but doesn’t want to accept the words that will come from his mouth. 

“Listen, kid. Hear me out on this.” Hop sighs, leaning against the railing as he speaks. “You’re probably—no, you are already in too deep and won’t listen to me for more than a second, but just hear me out.”

“O—Okay.” is all Steve can muster the courage to say, acting casual as he leans against the railing as well. 

“You can’t get too involved with this girl. She’s only gonna try to destroy everything you have with her once it happens. It’s not by her own will, but her mind is damn good at destroying good things that she actually enjoys.” Hop explains, watching Steve stare at the ground below with a blank stare. “She might like you, but her mind—it doesn’t. I’ve already seen her try to destroy herself multiple times, I just don’t want her to end up hurt because her mind tries to ruin you too.”

“She’s getting better. She can control herself now, it’s not like—like she’s out of control anymore. We haven’t seen her break down or try to hurt herself in months, right?” Steve says, desperately trying to help himself justify his feelings in the moment. 

“That’s right now, though. I know—I can tell she’s getting stronger. Not in just the way that she can control herself, but she’s gaining more power, too. The more she holds back, the more powerful she’s getting. I don’t know what that means for her or what other power she’s building up, but I think it’s best if you stay away.” Hop warns. “Don’t get more involved than you need to.”

Yeah, okay.” Steve sighs defeatedly, pushing off of the porch railing to head down the porch stairs. “I’ll try.”

Hop nods at him and waves goodbye before walking inside. Steve makes his way back to his car, feeling like he’s going to scream or cry or something. He knows he should listen to Hop, he knows the girls and the lab better than anyone else. But, he can’t help how he feels about Grace, and how badly he wants to be with her. It might be terrifying to think about what could happen if Grace loses control, but he doesn’t care enough to fight his feelings anymore. There’s no going back on his feelings now, he’s definitely in too deep for his own good.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @charmed-asylum @heart-eye-harrington @daddystevee @hystericalmedicine @a-magey @lemonypink @karasong @batbatsupermanme @used-avocado @letscici @igotmadskills @mikariell95 @anerroroccurrrrred @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @ilovebucketbarnes @simplesammyx @willowrose99 @charmedtenderness

[senjuushi]

Hey, can you give me a introduction on the characters personalities? I really want to ask some stuff, but don't know the characters enouth. It doens't need to be long, just a small introduction! (:

OwO Absolutely!!! I’ve explained the characters in my writing Discord before, so I’ll just copypaste what I wrote there. The explanations are pretty long, but they’re detailed, so I like ‘em~

Long post below!

This is F. He's a flamboyant, eccentric sadomasochist, and deviant with a princess-type personality, who kind of never quits saying horrible, horrible things. He's very girly and over-the-top, and expresses a distinct crush on one of the other guns, who he refers to as "Onii-sama". 

He has MAJOR masochistic tendencies, like licking the barrel of his gun while it's still hot, but he shows sadistic tendencies too, such as treating his lowest-ranking soldiers horribly. It's very likely that these behaviors have been learned from others, though. One thing that I think is of note is that, despite his extremely sexual behavior and tendencies, he's not showing any more skin than his upper neck and a little bit of his wrists. 

He's an attention-seeker who struggles to stand out in the shadow of a remarkable older brother, and it's implied that he's pretty desperate to be loved. He values his appearance a lot, going out of his way to look good and be presentable, such as through doing his nails and wearing perfume. 

I think he's a very needy person who just wants people to look at him and care about him in any way, so he goes out of his way to stand out. There are a lot of implications that he's been through some pretty awful stuff, considering that his sadism and masochism are most likely learned.

. . . 

This is Belga. He's a loudmouthed idiot with a violent streak and a love of shooting everything in sight. Based on his face and calculated height, he's probably only like 13-15 physically, 16 at max. 

He's very childish and immature, is either ridiculously ignorant or pretty darn stupid, and has a horrifically foul mouth on him. He was described to me as a "laughing maniac". That said, he's got a major soft side, and cries easily at things like sad stories and his pet fish dying. The fish themselves are most likely a measure to control him by, with letting him gain an attachment just to threaten him with them. 

He's very manipulable and gullible, and gets called "birdbrain" by 89, a gun who shares the same superior as him. Overall, he's a childish moron who can probably only barely take care of himself.

. . . 

This is Mikhael. He's... kind of a mess. Outwardly, he seems like a calm, collected character who lives only for his music and his passions. When looked at closer, however, there are some very bad signs. 

First of all, he's blind. His eyes are bandaged over, which... does not imply good things. He also has what's almost definitely a brace on his leg, suggesting that he's kind of broken. Also worth noting is that in the art above, his gun is pointing at his head. 

Mikhael has a fixation on "beauty in destruction" which to me implies that he's trying very hard to cover for how broken he is. He does nothing but play his piano when taken to battle, basically leaving himself open to getting shot. I see him as an older, broken-down gun who's acutely aware of how horrible his situation is, as well as being passively suicidal. He won't do anything to kill himself, but if something happened, he certainly wouldn't complain. 

I think he's very sad, finding joy only in his music, and taking every chance to drown himself in it. Because of his physical flaws, I doubt the WE treats him very well. He's broken enough that he could be gotten rid of at any time, so he's struggling to make himself seem useful and good through his obsession with beauty in ruined things.

. . . 

This is Ninety. He's the "holy shit this is fucked up" one. Ninety is literally referred to as the WE's dog... and he acts like it. 

He's the youngest of the guns in terms of summoning order and has a mindset somewhere between a child and an animal. He can't speak, most likely trauma mute and connected to something like conversion disorder, is only barely literate, and communicates with a signboard. Do note that this boy is not wearing pants. 

He's sort of feral, going so far as to bite the soldiers under him when he doesn't get fed enough (they're probably starving him). He's known to be a "panic shooter", implying a nervous personality. Also worrying is that he has another mask under his gas mask. A lot of fans theorize that he has a slit mouth. 

All of that said, though, Ninety is surprisingly mature and probably a lot more intelligent than he acts. He comforts Belga when his fish die, and honestly, I think he's just acting the part of a stupid dog because it's been drilled into him enough. There's intelligence in there, he's just not allowed to show it. Also, he's tiny. My height calculations put him at somewhere in the 4' range.

. . . 

This is Ghost. His gun is an experimental weapon that was never actually released, and he's got issues because of that. He's a person with no presence who always goes ignored by those around him. His bullets are ridiculously expensive to produce, and thus, the only person who's ever given him a chance is Ashley, to whom he's ridiculous levels of grateful and loyal. 

He's got major abandonment issues and considers himself to be a difficult to deal with reject. He's very passive, cynical, and pessimistic. He has a very childish side, "cursing" people who upset or ignore him, and "blessing" the rare few who give him the time of day. He latches onto anyone who treats him kindly with an unrivaled sense of desperation. It's implied that he might be rather sickly, and he seems to have a poor physical presence. 

He feels like he's a failure who no one should waste their time on, and struggles a lot with believing that anyone could ever find him worth the effort to use or keep. He's always teetering on the fear of being abandoned and forgotten.

. . . 

This is 89. He's a dead-inside gamer otaku who's catchphrase is "Are you serious?" He's something of the straight man (in the sense of the comedy term) of the lot of them and is definitely the most "normal". 

On that subject, he wants to be normal very, very badly but doesn’t have a shadow of a chance thanks to his status as nothing but a gun and a weapon of the WE, so he forces himself to look down on everyone who does get a normal life. He’s so depressed and done with life that all he does is lock himself up in his room and play whatever violent fighting games he’s allowed as an escape from the misery that is his life. He's got a ridiculously obvious crush on Mikhael, and also very obviously just wants someone to love him. Belga calls him "virgin", and in return gets referred to as "birdbrain". 

89 is just tired and done and exhausted with life, and honestly, he probably doesn't get much attention. He slacks off from missions when he can (which he definitely gets in trouble for), and even his favorite foods are cheap things that sound like they've been shoved onto him out of sheer neglect. He's a little bit tsundere and a total softie inside. He's also my favorite of all of them.

. . . 

This is Eins. He's the powerhouse of the modern guns, and definitely the strongest person there. He's the highest-ranking of all of them, and his battle style/gun type is a sniper. 

He's a serious person who takes his job equally seriously and always produces exceptional results. He acts rather normal, and could probably pass for human if he tried. That said, he's also got major empathy issues, showing very little remorse for hurting people. He takes orders way too far to make sure he's gone far enough, in the sense that he'd kill 100 people if ordered to kill 1. He has his soft side, though, down to gardening, impressive cooking skills when it comes to the others, and considering many of the other moderns to be his "family". F has a crush on him, which he's totally oblivious to. 

Fal is his loyal right-hand man, and Ghost is ridiculously fond of him. He's merciless when it comes down to it, but probably just sees what he does as doing his job and not getting hurt. He definitely sees himself as nothing but a weapon and a tool.

. . . 

This is Fal. He's F's older brother, and most likely the reason why F is Like That. Fal is an insanely capable, efficient, skilled person– one who comes off as perfect in every way. His gun, the FN FAL, is known as "the right arm of the free world" and has been one of the most used firearms in history. 

Fal himself is a calm, collected sort who always seems poised. He's Eins's assistant and has a lot of responsibility, which he handles extremely well. He's polite, subservient, and soft-spoken, despite being very close to Eins in power and skill. He's well-spoken, eloquent, loyal, and basically embodies the perfect assistant. He's also very intelligent, and expresses a particular fondness for torture. He has a unique power in that he's able to manifest prehensile, thorned vines, which sets him apart from the others in strength and skill. 

He's basically the ideal modern gun, which gives F and everyone else a LOT to live up to. He does seem like a very stressed, worn-down person, though, and likely is almost crushed under the pressure of the expectations placed on him.

. . . 

This is Kirsch. He's a sadistic spoiled brat who's almost definitely been sexually abused. He's downright desperate for attention from Ashley, resenting Mauser (Ashley's personal weapon) viciously for taking that attention away. Creepily enough, he refers to Ashley as "Papa". 

He's sort of obsessed with being cute and attractive, emphasizing his charm and trying to play up how lovable he is. That said, he behaves like a spoiled child, down to throwing tantrums when he's angry. Kirsch is also a major sadist (a behavior which is definitely learned), and loves torturing people for the sheer fun of it. He's described as "sick in the head" by one of his superiors. Even so, he tries to paint himself as a harmless victim who can do no wrong, kissing up to and demanding attention from anyone he looks fondly upon. 

He's ridiculously immature, insanely clingy, and probably also has major abandonment issues. He acts like a love-starved child who acts out in order to get attention. There are also a few implications that he's been sexually abused, including his aggressively "touchy" behavior, personal-space invading sadism, attitude towards his superiors, and revealing outfit (short shorts and garter on his leg).

. . . 

This is Hokusai. He's an animated, wild-natured person with a major childish streak. He uses the pronoun "Boku-chan", which sounds straight out of the mouth of a kindergartener. 

He's something of a mad scientist who's associated with the science sector of the WE, and has honestly probably been the brunt of more than a few experiments. He has a massive fixation on the color blue that goes all the way to an obsession, and he's so dedicated to this that he keeps trying to dye his human self blue... which also keeps killing him. He's killed himself like this a bunch of times, but fortunately, Ashley can keep bringing him back somehow. He has a massive aversion to the color red too, straight to the point where he loses it if he sees his own blood. 

He has a number of visible scars (rare for anime art), including one across his throat and one on his wrist, implying that he's been through some shit. His behavior also says to me that he might have some form of brain damage, probably of the nature that impacts his decision making and sense of consequences. He's very reckless and has little regard for his own life. Despite this, he's also a cheerful, sunny person who never really seems to be down.

. . . 

This is Love1. He's... a mess. His gun is majorly defective, and known irl as one of the worst and most useless firearms in history. Reflecting this, L1's body is kind of a mess. His gun jams constantly, which gives him nosebleeds, he's implied to be physically fucked up in general, and in the game, his bigger attacks did damage to him too. 

Personality-wise, he acts like an utter idiot. He's loud and goofy, with a lot of presence and seemingly no dignity. He's cheerful, explosive, and trigger-happy, acting like he doesn't have a care in the world. However, his real personality is very different. L1 is a massively intelligent and strategic individual. While Fal specializes in physical torture, L1 is the psychological torture master. He knows how to absolutely break people. He has a little brother, Like2, and the two of them are both in the "defective" boat. L1 loves L2 dearly, no matter how rude the other is to him, and gushes over his "cute baby brother" constantly. 

On the dark note, L1's life is kind of hanging by a thread. He's worthless enough that he could be gotten rid of at any time, and with the whole world seeing him as a failure, he's definitely got some major issues. He could be replaced at any time, and he's definitely living in fear of when that day will come. Since his physical body is shot, it's also likely that he's constantly in a lot of pain. No one is really very nice to him either.

. . . 

This is Like2. He's an effeminate, bratty tsundere who wants to be spoiled and loved. He's in the same boat as L1 in that his gun is sort of useless, but he's still quite a bit better off. He definitely shares the same worries about being replaced, but instead of covering it up with a smile, he fixates on making himself pretty and strong. 

He's a bodybuilder who focuses a lot on strength training, and is surprisingly tough for his looks. He loves fine things and getting attention and spoiling, and is pretty much desperate for people to like him. Because of his status as a rejected, mocked weapon, he's frantic to make himself useful and avoid being disposed of. He values his personal security massively, can't stand any form of discomfort, and is willing to turn traitor as soon as his safety is on the line. He's an aggressive, abrasive tsundere who constantly berates his brother, calling him "worthless" and "soon to be replaced". 

That said, he loves L1 dearly underneath it all, and winds up as something of his brother's caretaker. He's a fragile person who's desperate to be cared for an accepted, no matter what he has to do to get it.

. . .

Last is Mauser. He's Ashley's personal assistant and weapon, and is honestly a thousand levels of worrying. Mauser is the first gun Ashley summoned, and despite his size and young appearance, his gun is the oldest model as well, being made in 1896. He teeters right on the verge of modern and antique. 

He's an obedient doll to Ashley who seems to lack any form of personality or will of his own. He's empty and emotionless, only capable of expressing his loyalty to his Master. This lack of personality could be attributed to being a faulty summon, but more likely, Ashley has broken him of anything that made him a person. He's blindly devoted, endlessly loyal, and doesn't really have anything to live for beyond Ashley. His character is worrying because something must have left him so broken, and the implications with what Ashley could have done to mess him up so badly aren't pretty. 

His personality is rather flat, but his interesting side comes in what made him the way he is. He'd have nothing to live for without Ashley.

[ma-gic-gay]

He'd always had the worst timing when it came to her.

In his defense, so had Sonny. Though, for them being together, those two had had good timing.

So timing was still just being a bitch. This time, though, it wasn't him in the shocked position. For once, he wasn't the one who was blindsided with something.

Well, not entirely anyways. He'd figured that Sam would run to Sonny, manipulating the situation, but he didn't think she'd get him here that fast. It was what, five minutes? He must've flown here or something, but that would've taken longer just to get through the flight frills. The only way for him to get there that quickly would be that he was nearby anyways, so there was a chance he heard a part of their fight. Realistically, Sam will be there as well, right behind the fuming mob boss.

Him and Carly had ended that kiss the second Sonny had announced his presence by loudly asking, "What the fuck?"

"I promise it's not what it looks like," Carly rushes out quickly, a blush overtaking her cheeks. Damn, she really isn't much of a liar anymore. Kinda sucks she lost that trait, though she's still one of the best liars he's ever met.

"What it looks like is that you were kissing someone else while we're married," Sonny says, voice scarily quiet. "How is that not what's happening here?"

"Alright, maybe it's a little bit what it looks like," she admits. "Actually, it's exactly what it looks like but I don't want you to be mad at him because it's a thing we both did and technically I kissed him first so it doesn't count as him doing anything. Well, maybe a little because he kissed me back, but it doesn't count as anything serious."

"Smooth," Jason mutters before looking at his boss who looks like he'll kill him right then and there without hesitation.

"I'm trying to save your ass here," she whispers back.

"And I'm trying to save your marriage!"

"You really think that's what's happening here? How- how is kissing her somehow saving my marriage, Jason? Please tell me, I'd be delighted to know," Sonny chuckles sarcastically. "Cause from where I'm standing, it seems like, if anything, you'd be the reason to end my marriage."

"He is not to blame," Carly exclaims again.

"I'm sorry, is this a thing about you two I just don't get?" Sonny asks mockingly, noting that she's mad. That's what he wants, her mad, as mad and hurt as he is.

"No," Jason says calmly. "It's not. That- this- that's the first time that happened."

"You two could've had a happily ever after decades ago," Sonny exclaims, "but you weren't. What, is this some nostalgia thing, huh? Now that he's single you suddenly can't keep your hands off of him?"

"That's enough, Sonny! In case you forget, you're the reason we didn't," Jason warns, voice not giving away emotion.

"She slept with me after she saw you and Eli-"

"After you told her I was dating Elizabeth? She was distraught that night, worried sick she'd lose me! You knew damn well that we weren't doing anything and that I didn't feel that way for Elizabeth but you didn't tell her that, no, you tell her I'm in love with someone who was a grieving friend! You knew what I felt for Carly and you still lied to her about what had happened, you. Not me, not her, you," Jason fires back angrily.

"That's got nothing to do with this! Last I checked, I wasn't the one who'd kissed a married woman," Sonny shouts.

"You're right, you tore my family away from me but you, somehow, are the victim," the morally grey assassin says, volume steady. "I forgave you for that a long time ago, but it still hurts to think about."

"And you kissed my wife!"

"I kissed him first!"

"He kissed back, and from where I was standing, he initiated the kiss!"

"The second one!" Carly exclaims.

There's a silent tension in the air between the two and Sonny when she admits that. "Second kiss? So you mean to tell me that he kissed you after you'd already kissed once?"

"That would be the meaning of second kiss, yes," Carly smirks slightly. "I kissed him first and he didn't register it until I'd pulled away so when he realized what was going on he kissed me back. We've kissed twice. Happy?"

"No, not really! I just found out my best friend and my wife have some unresolved feelings for each other!" Sonny snaps. "Things I thought had been gone for years are back and I don't know what to do about it because you're supposedly friends with me, supposedly my business partner! You helped me make this business from the start! I'm hurt that you did this, Carly, but especially that he kissed you back."

"I'm your friend," Jason attempts to defuse the situation, "but that doesn't mean I always have to do things you like."

"Things I like?" Sonny snarls. "I'd like it if you didn't have feelings for her!"

"So would I," Sam smiles, emerging from the hall, "I had my suspicions but you still shouldn't have been with me when you had feelings for her."

"I didn't know I did until maybe two days ago! I thought I was over that but clearly I'm not!" Jason glares.

"So did I. I mean, I figured I was taking this to the grave. Sonny's a good guy and I don't not love him," Carly says, confusing the hell out of everyone. "But it's friendly love more than it is romantic by now."

"So you stayed with me when you were in love with him?" Sonny asks, looking her dead in the eyes.

"Yes," the blonde quietly admits after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Him and Sam were together and they'd worked so hard for that. They were happy, as far as I knew."

"You managed to hide what you feel for that long? That in and of itself is a miracle," Jason teases her slightly, but being pretty serious still. "But in all seriousness, that must've sucked for you. I know how little you enjoy hiding your feelings."

"Well, what I feel affects a lot of people."

"But I care what you feel, you know that," he smiles at her. "Don't hide it because of how it'll affect me."

"Well right now I feel like running for the hills," she smiles.

"I feel like knowing why you two are acting like this," Sonny joins in. "You should be feeling like shit right now and full of guilt over these kisses and feelings."

"Surprisingly, I don't. Honestly, I feel... Relieved. It's refreshing to have everything out in the open. We both know how we feel about each other and it's love. I don't think guilt would go along with this," Jason informs him calmly.

Sonny charges at him and shoves the surprised assassin against the wall. "Don't you ever say that again! You don't love my wife and she doesn't love you!"

"I do, Sonny! Stop this! You're an adult for god's sakes, so just discuss this rationally," Carly shouts.

A very emotionally conflicted Jason shoves Sonny off of him and walks back to where he was before, next to Carly. "I had no clue he would do this, did you?" She asks him as he shakes his head. "I knew he'd be pissed, but this is a new level of anger. I've never seen it from him."

Nodding, Jason agrees with her. "Yeah, I don't know what to do."

"I've got a suggestion," Sam interjects. "You don't fall in love with her!"

"That's not something you can help, genius," Carly snaps, "and even if it was, you aren't doing much to help calm him down so leave, buy something, or be helpful."

"I was trying to be!"

"By suggesting something you know to be impossible?" Jason quips.

"I'm coping too!" Sam weakly defends herself. "I love you still even though you don't love me anymore. Stop acting like you two are the victims!"

"We're not trying to but you need to stop acting like everything stops because you're mad," Carly explains as calmly as she can.

"Stop it! Jason, get the hell away from her," Sonny warns, "right now. You two aren't in love! You're, what's the word, projecting! Projecting your feelings for other people onto each other. Jason's for Sam and Carly's for me."

"Don't touch her," Jason warns, arm around Carly. "I know what I feel better than you. What reason does Carly have to project feelings?"

"I don't know! But you aren't her husband! So stay away from my wife," Sonny argues and a slightly scared Carly is grateful for the protection of her best friend. Especially at that moment, it comes in handy always.

"I'm not projecting or faking feelings! Sonny, go home!"

"Where Joss and Avery and Donna are? That's a great idea, they can see me like this!"

"That's never bothered you before."

"You've never cheated on me before."

"Get. Out."

"No," Sonny says, grasping for his wife's hand. "Let's go."

"She said leave, Sonny. Go." Jason advises.

"I'm not listening to you, you worthless traitor!"

"Don't call him either of those things! He's stuck by you and me through everything, Sonny, everything, and is the most loyal man I could ever know! Stop being pissed and throwing a fit and grow the hell up!" Carly snaps at her husband, grasping Jason's free hand in hers.

"C'mon, Sonny, let's go," Sam agrees, having seen enough.

To be continued

AHH

[bumblesimagines]

The Wolf Pack

Part 3

Request: Yes or No

Just a little something to show that (Y/N) isn't that bad. Even if he did try to manipulate Jug a bit.

(Y/N) poured a shot of tequila and slid it over to Jughead.

"I don't drink." He mumbled, holding an ice pack to his knee.

"You also didn't smoke but did it anyway." (Y/N) pointed out.

"Blu will answer any questions you have." (Y/N) said, leaving the room. He entered his room, finding Malachai inside. The male was sitting on his bed.

"What a lovely suprise." (Y/N) smiled, kicking the door shut and approaching him. Malachai shot him a lazy smile. (Y/N) sat on his lap, pushing him back.

"What do you want, Malachai? You have whores waiting in line to fuck you." (Y/N) shrugged off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor.

"Right back at you. Even after all the shit you do, some people are crazy enough to fall for you." Malachai said. (Y/N) chuckled.

"Don't act as if you aren't one of those people." He purred, feeling Malachai's hands squeeze his thighs.

"I've been told that some of your girls have been on the Southside." Malachai said, hands trailing upwards until they reached (Y/N) belt.

"They need the money. Most people here are so uptight... Riverdale has unfaithful shits and the girls need them." (Y/N) said, fingers running over Malachai's exposed chest and abs.

"Your gang runs primarily on drugs, ours runs on a lot of things." (Y/N) leaned down, pressing soft kisses to his jawline.

"The girls distract my guys."

"Tell them to keep it in their pants unless they're paying and treating them right." (Y/N) pulled back, staring into his eyes.

"If someone from your gang mistreats any of my girls, I'll slit their throat and leave them to the vultures, got it?" (Y/N) questioned. Malachai nodded.

"Of course." He leaned up, kissing him. (Y/N) kissed him back, grabbing a handful of hair as Malachai made quick work of their clothes.

(Y/N) counted his money, glancing at Jughead.

"Well, you're halfway there! We should celebrate." (Y/N) smiled, getting some champagne and pouring him a cup.

"Cheers!" (Y/N) laughed, drinking his cup. Jughead silently stared at the bubbles with a blank expression.

"What's with the long face? You should be happy! At least you don't have to get a dick shoved up your ass." (Y/N) said, leaning over the bar and brushing some of his hair under his beanie. Jughead looked at him.

"You and Malachai.. What's the deal?" He asked, finally picking up his cup.

"Just pals being pals. Haven't you and Arch done the same? He's hot, you... Not so much." (Y/N) grinned.

"But don't worry, I'm sure Betty is waiting for you with open arms and hopefully her legs are only open for you." Jughead frowned at his words.

"I heard about the whole rebound thing, or maybe it wasn't a rebound? Who knows, am I right? I mean, if my best friend was my partners old crush, I'd be suspicious. Especially after they said they didn't like them, then went around and kissed them." (Y/N) said, pouring himself another drink.

"How do you know all of this?"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Juggie. In Greendale, Riverdale... In this whole fucked up country, one wrong move and I'll know within minutes." (Y/N) said softly. Jughead gulped, bringing up the cup to his lips.

"(Y/N)." Penny walked over to him. (Y/N) hummed, looking at her. Jughead couldn't help but notice how close Penny was to (Y/N). Sure, she probably didn't want everyone around to hear but she could just whisper. (Y/N) placed a hand on Penny's lower back.

"If you think they're gonna fuck with your drug business, I'll tell Ty to give them a spook. He loves pranking people with dead animals." (Y/N) said. Penny hummed, her fingers tapping against his arm as she inched ever so closer to him.

"Alright." She nodded, placing a hand against (Y/N) cheek and pulling him into a deep kiss. Jughead almost choked on his drink. Penny pulled back and smiled before walking away.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The kiss. I thought-" (Y/N) giggled.

"Pals being pals, Jug." He cooed, fixing Jugheads shirt.

"What? Getting jealous? I could always give you a taste, Juggie." (Y/N) said, leaning forward. Jughead opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to respond. (Y/N) chuckled.

"I'm just kidding, you have to earn it." (Y/N) winked, grabbing the bottle of champagne.

"Maybe once you pay your debt... I'll thank you in a fun way." (Y/N) grinned, blowing him a kiss.

"Jones, the next run is ready." Blu called. Jughead slid off the stool and headed over towards Blu.

"Are you actually gonna give him a taste? You have enough playthings." (Y/N) looked at Penny. He grabbed her hand, spinning her around and pulling her towards him so her back met his chest.

"Are you getting jealous?" He asked playfully. Penny rolled her eyes, turning around.

"You've been paying more attention to Malachai." Penny said, wrapping her arms around him.

"Sorry, doll. You're just so busy with everything that I find myself going to him." (Y/N) explained. He moved his hands to her thighs and lifted her up. Penny smiled, wrapping her legs around his waist and leaning down, kissing his lips. (Y/N) pulled back when someone cleared their throat.

"It'd be great if you could keep the PDA out of the bar room. People are trying to drown their problems and you two dry humping here, isn't helping." Delia said. (Y/N) chuckled, putting Penny down.

"What's the plan with Jughead? Are you really gonna let him go?" Penny asked, getting right back to business.

"I want him to turn on his friends. Once he does, I can go in for the kill and get them all against each other for the best entertainment of all; teenage drama."