#I will make EVERYONE get along (platonically)

[myunghology]

━ 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐞𝐛𝐚,, all twst boys!

╭₊˚ ๑︰❝ twst dorms with their ever after high counter parts! ❞

pairings all dorms, but seperate! x fem reader, reader is not yuu (mc). can be read as either platonic or romantic

cw none.. as far as i know

a/n — YAYYY happy valentinesssss <3 not exactly counter parts, but characters who i think would fit into their dorms!

HEARTSLABYUL — ( madeline hatter, daughter of the mad hatter! reader )

riddle finds you somewhat charming, in your own way, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get ticked off by you sometimes. that being said, he definitely loves having tea parties with you, it's so much more fun!

definitely a little bit chaotic, oh, but what can one expect from the daughter of the mad hatter? thinks it's a little bit silly that you have a teacup as a hat, but it definitely works for someone like you.

i think he'd get along with your pet dorm mouse, finds it quite cute from how it delightfully serves the both of you tea whilst you pat it's head with your index finger as a token of appreciation <3

trey would also love having you around for tea. for him-- someone like you in heartslabyul is like a refreshing breath of air. a little bit out of hand, but he still adores having you around.

baking with you is the best! trey just smiles sheepishly when you bring out ingredients out from your silly little hat, ingredients you didn't even know you needed-- but stuffed it in just in case.

a little bit ridiculed from how you can say such smart things, but then saying “but mmm, i dunno!” right after, when his mind is practically in shambles from what you just said.

cater!!!!! you'd get along with him so much compared to the other boys, just because he thinks you're so silly and so adorable! you definitely pop up in his magicam posts most of the time <3

maybe he will admit a bit he spends time with you and takes his daily clicks for social media, but he does genuinely enjoy spending time with you! you could yap on for hours on end and he'd just be sitting there happily listening to you.

i fear you'd pick up his speech habits as well.. just out of spite and out of pure fun, and he loovess it. thinks you're the cutest and most favorite thing in the world when you imitate him like that!

ace is definitely something. he'd enjoy getting reactions out of you-- but at the same time, your reactions are so unpredictable that sometimes he'd rather not.. he definitely found you weird the first time you met, but he's slowly warming up!

feels so proud of himself once you start clapping and giggling when he shows you his card tricks, you're the first one he'd show his tricks to right before he decides to play 'em onto deuce <3

makes his heart flutter just a bit (his words, not mine). when he sees you cheer for him the loudest whenever he has his basketball matches, he'll definitely give his 100% in the match now!

deuce looks up to you.. in a way. he just loves how you're so optimistic about everything and he adores you! both romantically and generally.

lots of “how do you do that?” from him whenever you pull out random stuff out of your hat, and you just respond with a giggle while bringing out stuff he's lost for literal ages. stuff he thought ace stole, by the way.

deuce just loves the way you're so different from everyone he's met, the way you happily jump up and down when you find out you passed with flying colors on a test, the way you you get along so well with everyone, basically everything about you.

SAVANACLAW — ( cerise hood, daughter of the big bad wolf! reader )

leona.. to be honest, i don't think your first meeting went that well. but to be fair, he does respect you for being so tough, as you should be. maybe the fault was more on your side, but you were just being cautious.

it's a little bit awkward with him the first time, but i think you both would develop a mutual respect for each other over the time being. i personally think you two would try to out-sass each other from time to time, but that's just me.

you still find him a little bit too cocky and lazy for your liking, but you'll get used to it in some time. but it was nice seeing him defend you from pretty sexist students, and then just brushing it off like it's nothing.

ruggie, it's like a game of cat and mouse with him.. get the joke? sorry.. no pun intended. he'd want to, or at least attempt to charm or out-wit you in some way, immediately realizing you're someone who has a no-nonsense attitude.

you two respect each other to a good enough amount though, once you get closer. yes, another one who's just as competitive as his housewarden when it comes to challenges. you're a lot more alike than one might think.

sarcastic x "i'll kill you", don't let him get under your skin, he's just there to berate you in a loving way, i swear! he's just trying to get you to open up, is all <3

jack is also, another no-nonsense person, just like you! yes, you we're cautious at first, but you warmed up to him faster than the others. he's respectful and well-mannered, what's not to like about the guy?

not that much of a flashy friendship, but you two understand each other just fine. even if it's just a nod, he'll know immediately what you meant by that little gesture. probably bonded by shared determination.

your number 1 defender besides leona himself, he's quick-witted enough to notice even when someone's belittling or even underestimating you in the slightest ways, he'll jump right in to defend you, just like what he does with anyone else.

OCTAVINELLE — ( meeshell mermaid, daughter of the little mermaid! reader. )

azul, it's better to be cautious of him at first. he's a smooth talker and he's smart, and you're more of a dreamer, so that doesn't work out that well. so, naturally, he sees you as a business opportunity. you could see right through him.

to be fair.. you were, in fact a little bit swayed with his smooth talking the first time you met, but then shook your head and snapped back into reality once you realize with a dead-panned look plastered on your face.

but i guess, in some ways, you two both work. especially when azul's being vulnerable, you'd push all the tension between the both of you aside and be right there with him. thus— he swears to hold off all of his schemes. for you, at least.

jade's is a little bit of a slow-burn, i fear you'd be a bit off-put by his calm nature at first, getting a gut feeling that somethings wrong. you would've been able to admit that anyway. at least not to his face.

he just loves teasing you as well, finding all your reactions adorable and from the way you hide yourself when you're embarrassed, but he finds your emotional awareness refreshing for a feeling. i mean.. who won't? just look at his dormmates.

i think he just means well.. overtime, he teaches you to be more aware of the people around you. honorable mention to azul.. who definitely didn't try to just get you into a pyramid scheme upon first meeting you, so you're thankful to jade.

floyd, you better run. you're an easy target. small, cute, gets flustered easily, what else could he want in a new little plaything? i mean that affectionately. whilst the other tries their best to stop him, he's just.. "imma do what i want to her and no one can stop me".

although you're likely on edge whenever the eel is around, you do, sometimes, unfortunately, like his company. it's quite a nice contrast to your calm and collected one, being the literal opposite of your character. you really do appreciate how much fun he brings into your life, and he appreciates you practically for being in his life.

you're naïve and easy to tease, but he soon learns not to push you away too much, since, well, he doesn't want to admit it, but he's starting to like your company and slowly but surely is getting attached to you as a whole.

SCARABIA — ( apple white, daughter of snow white! reader. )

kalim, okay, hear me out, daughter of apple white, just please try to understand my vision here. you were a little bit startled when you met him, but he was cute.. you're used to being more of a well-mannered and dignified person, so it was definitely new, but in a good way!

he'd find you admirable, of course. like many others here, he just loves how you're so polite but can set boundaries at the same exact time. you're just.. the definition of perfection to kalim in his eyes. but he does want you to just let go and have some fun sometimes.

you help jamil with helping kalim stay on the ground sometimes when things get out of hand, and they're both grateful for that. he does, still think you should loosen up a little and have some fun with him out of love <3 you just think he's a little sweetheart, in all honesty.

jamil, on the other hand, i think there was a little bit of tension when you two first met. you admire how he's quite reserved yet still respectful to those around him, even though his face literally says otherwise. but in the end, you just learn to laugh it off with your dear kalim.

even though you both may or may not get into small debates sometimes, i'd say you get along well, especially in terms of respect. even tho he does think it's quite cute about how you daydream about little things, he'd pull you right back into the ground out of love.

you two share duties in the dorm, even though he insists that it's fine and he doesn't need help, but you insist even more and saying that two people are better than one when it comes to things like this, and he truly, really appreciates everything you've done for their dorm.

POMEFIORE — ( raven queen, daughter of the evil queen! reader. )

vil really does admire your beauty in a little bit of a detached way. while you two can butt heads about your opinions sometimes, he still appreciates you for setting a new point of view into his life. if you let him pamper you in return, for a price!

you're someone who doesn't want to fit into standards, and vil is well, all about the standards. definitely gave each other bit of a dirty look when you first met, but it only goes up from there! at least i could only hope so.

the others think your bickering is quite silly, but it's really all in good fun. you help each other grow in your own ways, and it's actually really cute. he's content enough with how you are, so he would prefer not to change anything about you so far. keep it like that! or not.

rook and his love for your personality is really something. your playful little banters and small signs of flirtation go by quite easily to your surprise! he's a little bit overwhelming for your tastes sometimes, but it'll be all good.

to put it straight, rook was immediately captivated by you. a bit uncomfortable from the way he eyes you up and down, or as some people like to put it— examine you. but you two do bond over the little stuff, like rook with his archery and you with your dragon riding!

the type of person who'd see right through you, someone who'd squish your face with his hands to make you face up at him when he notices your gaze trail off to the side, asking you if you're okay with that soft smile on his face as he pinches your cheek.

epel, is an admirer of you! admire is a stretch, but it's not even close to how much he loves you. he wants to be just like you! strong and intimidating, but in your own sense. and yet still polite enough to teach him and calm him down about topics like this and brush it off saying it's nothing.

whilst he does practically worship you at this point, your relationship with epel is still, really, very playful. your humor's a bit dry, so whenever he teases, or rather attempts to tease you, you'd make fun of him for wanting to be manly, and being not manly enough.

"so.. are 'ya always this serious? can i get a smile outta 'ya?" is something he'd usually ask upon first meeting you, not even bothering to hide his accent because he can already tell you can see right through him. whilst you respond with a small smile, "if you want me to smile, you gotta earn it."

IGNIHYDE — ( blondie lockes, daughter of goldilocks! reader. )

idia would be somewhat overwhelmed by you, you're so.. energetic, pretty, bright, bubbly— anything positive he can think of. you really try your best to interact with him more, even if it means talking to a screen, which isn't really the type of communication of your choice.

you do admit, you never really notice the way you unintentionally tease idia for his habits, he knows you mean well, especially when you nag him affectionately about going out when he'd rather ramble about technology with you in the dorm rooms.

he really finds it cute when you ask him about random stuff with the topic of technology. it's adorable when you ask him to teach you coding since you want to make your own game— wanting to tell you it's not all that fun, but who could resist that face of yours, really?

ortho really finds you fun to be around. you'd find ortho extremely cute when you first meet him, almost immediately approaching him— but not even asking him about his robotic nature even though you are asking tons of questions, and this makes him feel really special <3

he'd help you with anything without even needing you to ask, assisting you with absolutely anything you need with a smile on his face. you're literally another sibling figure to him and he loves it so much! when you ask him if he can feel what you're feeling and he technically says yes, you immediately say "then can you feel my excitement of getting a snack right now?!"

your hobby being vlogging means your camera being broken sometimes, but worry not! ortho is here to help! and he swears it'll be better than before. you're always so positive that it's contagious to him! he gets motivated just because of you :)

DIASOMNIA — ( briar beauty, daughter of aurora! reader. )

malleus? pshh. you weren't even intimidated by him in the slightest bit. not from his status, at least. you weren't overwhelmed and quite literally just approached him respectfully out of curiosity. and he waaaass waiting for you to approach him, so it's a win-win in this case!

"so you're a prince, huh? i don't mind a bit of drama every now and then." he hears you say with a smile on your face, while he asks if you're not afraid of his presence when you just brush it off, saying you don't really have time to be afraid of people like him when he's generally really nice.

it's just so refreshing seeing you skip the formalities saying, "if we're gonna be together all the time, let's just skip them!" with a cheer. you're literally a royal, but you seem so different from your background, it makes him quite happy.. oh, and he's quite protective over you. he insists on coming with you every time you're going somewhere alone.

lilia would find this interesting. you'd often tease him for being a literal century old fae as he just brushes it off with a small chuckle. whilst he claps back with reminding you you'd go to sleep for hundreds of years, making you pout.

you're sharp enough to see through his little pranks, earning him a smack on the head from you, when he says you're no fun at all, you respond with he'll have to try harder next time around. like malleus, he's also, definitely, protective of you.

he says he's not babying you but he is, and it's painfully obvious from the way you can sense his presence around when you're alone out walking. he just wants you to stay safe in his own way, let him do his thing!

silver, woah, you two have a lot in common. especially with the sleeping thing and kinda— coming from the same origins. but he finds your presence comforting, it's a new thing with him! just be careful <3

you often poke him about being too quiet, teasing him about quote unquote "sleeping with his eyes opened", making him laugh softly while he tells you that he isn't sleeping, just observing. observing you, in a subtle way.. but he prefers not to admit it. at least not now?

literally everyone in diasomnia is protective when it comes to you. you're like.. the most protected person in the history of night raven college. silver would hold your hand to prevent you from wandering off into the woods alone, saying it's dangerous for a beauty like you, playfully referencing your last name.

sebek is, well... something! you have a push and pull relationship with him, and it's cute in it's own way. he's intense and he's a no-nonsense type of person! so.. you were probably more intimidated by him than you were with malleus.

you'd often mock his ways of speech, saying stuff like; "i must uphold the honor of the great malleus draconia!” with a hand on your heart, giggling playfully as he scowls at you in a lovingly way, trust me on this. he does find it cute when you imitate him, though..

yes, once again, protective. saying you shouldn't be going messing around so light-heartedly, adding that you shouldn't be so reckless whilst being the princess of briar valley, just like malleus, whilst you whine and say that you don't just want to wait for a prince to save you like that.

a/n — LORD I AM STRONG. FOR WRITING THIS IN UNDER 3 HOURS

[et6rnalsun]

SO THIS IS LOOVE, ( OR SEX? ) 3 / 3

your friendship with rafe has never been just a friendship. it’s always been on the verge of being so much more, with tension choking your thoughts every time you found yourself in close contact, something that should have been innocent—completely platonic.

you never expected him to make a first move, something to change things between you. but then, on valentine's day, he surprised you with something magical organized on his yacht. just the two of you, in the prosperous need to let go.

rafe was leaning casually against the yacht’s railing, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, showing that usual and annoying confidence. “i thought this was supposed to be a simple date, not a kidnappin’.” your voice holds a teasing edge, but the tremble beneath it was so obvious. your words were directed at the fact that he had decided to keep you all to himself, away from everyone.

he looked at you with eyes filled with something you couldn’t put your finger on, his head tilted as he adjusted the sleeves of his soft shirt. his scent wrapped around you as he moved a little bit closer. “what if it’s both?” his hand lifted, fingers grazing the hem of your dress lightly, barely touching, yet enough to set your skin on fucking fire.

“rafe—” you whispered, not even sure what you were about to say. but, thankfully, he didn’t even give you the chance to finish.

in one swift motion, he closed the remaining distance, his body pressing slightly against yours as the railing behind you prevented any escape. “before we reach the point of no return, ” his lips ghosted over your ear as he talked, his breath warm against your skin. “tell me to stop”

his fingers trail down your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as you struggled to even get a breath out. then, with a firm grip, he pulled at the fabric of your dress, lifting it just enough for him to see the lace undies you chose for the occasion. his gaze dropped, following the path of his hands, and something shifted in his expression. “you do this shit on purpose?”

and after you didn’t show any sign of wanting to stop, his lips found yours. there was no hesitation, only a burning feeling you both felt. the taste of champagne you drank before lingered on your tongue, mixing with the heat of his kiss. you feel his hand sliding up as he barely graced the lace, fingers moving achingly slow, too slow.

a sharp gasp left your lips as his fingers traced the delicate fabric, barely pressing down. the heat pooling between your thighs only grew worse with every agonizing second, every touch that left you aching for more. “don’t tease,” you begged against his lips, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt.

“ain’t teasin’ baby” he hummed, the sound low and full of amusement. he was enjoying the way you were already falling apart under his touch, how your body arched into him without hesitation just to feel more and more again. “so desperate already?” he murmured as his fingers pressed down just enough to make you whimper.

you gave up answering when he dipped his head, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. his teeth grazed your pulse point before he sucked deeply. the sting mixed with pleasure, completely drowning what should hurt.

his fingers pushed aside the lace only when he was satisfied with himself, skin meeting skin. he dragged two fingers along your slick folds, gathering the evidence of just how badly you wanted him. he let out a low groan, like he was barely keeping himself together, his breathing uneven as he traced lazy circles around your puffy clit. “so fuckin’ wet f’me. who could know that you were this slutty?”

he pushed a finger inside you, and your grip on his shoulders tightened. “i’m—i’m not slutty” you tried to protest, but the petulant sound of your voice died down when he purposely pushed another finger in, the quickness of his action contrasting the slow pace of moments before. the two fingers were already stretching you out good, filling your increasing needs. “you are, dollface. jus’ look at you”

his fingers worked you open so perfectly, and when his thumb found that sensitive bundle of nerves again, he rubbed in slow, deliberate circles, making your body jerk against him. the tension coiled tighter, hotter, every flick of his wrist sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

but just when you started to move against his hand, just when you were about to explode, he stopped. your eyes snapped open, your breath uneven. “oh?”

his smirk was pure arrogance. “what?”

you moved your hips again, desperate for friction, but he tightened his grip on your thigh, holding you still. “what, baby? you need more?” you swallowed hard, your pride killing your need as you looked at him with wide eyes. his fingers dragged out of you at that, leaving you empty. then he brought them to his lips, tasting you, groaning like he actually enjoyed torturing you like this. “so sweet”

his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, but before you could even think of a reply, he was lifting you in his arms, gripping your thighs tight as he carried you inside.

the second your back hit the bed, he was on you—pressing you down, caging you beneath him. his hands slid under your dress, pushing it up, exposing more and more of you until the fabric was gone completely, leaving you in nothing but the lace he had already ruined with his teasing. “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered against your skin, his lips dragging down your neck and lower. his fingers hooked around your panties, pulling them down.

you could feel him—hard, throbbing under his pants, pressing right on your pussy as he lowered the last thing that covered you. you moved against him at that, desperate for more. “you want it?” he asked again, quickly unzipping his jeans as well. along with his boxers.

“so bad”

he groaned, low and deep, lining himself up, teasing you with the head of him, barely pushing in, just enough to make your body tense with anticipation. “beg for it. c’mon, do it, angel”

your pride was long gone. “please, rafe,” you gasped, arching into him. “i need you.” and that was all he needed to give you everything.

he thrust into you, slow but deep, filling you inch by inch, stretching you until there was nothing but the feel of him. a strangled moan left your lips, your fingers gripping his back as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust. “so fucking tight.” he pulled back, almost all the way, before snapping his hips forward again, harder this time, forcing a gasp from your lips.

the way you clenched around him, the way your nails dragged down his back, the way his name fell from your lips over and over—he was losing his control. his grip on your hips tightened, and then he was moving faster and harder, his breath ragged, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress with every thrust. “this what you wanted, baby?” he gritted out. “this what you’ve been begging for?”

all you could do was moan, nodding helplessly, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer, to take him even deeper.

“you feel so good, so perfect for me.”

the pressure built, tighter with every deep thrust. your nails dragged down his back, leaving red marks in their wake, and he only seemed to like it. you were close—so close you could barely think, your body trembling beneath him, every nerve on fire. rafe knew it, could feel it, and instead of slowing down like before, this time, he chased it, his pace turning even more desperate. “let go, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs as he drove you over the edge. “come for me.”

and you did. the pleasure hit you hard, crashing over you in waves, your body arching into him as his name fell from your lips in a breathless cry. the way you tightened around him sent him right after you, a deep groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, his movements growing sloppy, frantic, before finally stilling against you.

the only sound left was your heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling against yours as let his lips brush over your jaw in something almost tender. “fuck,” he muttered, a lazy, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

his words made you smile, the heat still lingering between you both, but now softened. rafe didn’t pull away, didn’t move to create any space between you. instead, he tightened his grip around your waist, his fingers trailing lazy circles on your bare skin, like he had no intention of letting you go.

you sighed against his chest, letting your fingers brush over his face softly. he leaned into your touch, his eyes half-lidded, calmer than you’d ever seen them. “you okay?” he asked, quietly and almost hesitantly.

you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze, and the warmth in his blue eyes made your heart skip a beat. “more than okay.” he huffed a small laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary. “good,” he muttered. “don’t want you regrettin’ this.”

“never.”

“you were my valentine all along,” he then whispered, as if it was a secret between the two of you. “you just didn’t know it.”

[liliavanrougelover]

Be my valentine!

Summary: It's valentines day! How do the TWST boys celebrate with you?

Characters: Everyone (-Ortho)

A/N: Happy valentines! I love you (platonically)

Riddle Rosehearts:

It’s safe to say that this is uncharted territory for Riddle. He’s never celebrated Valentine’s day for obvious reasons. He never even heard about it until he came to NRC. And he never had a reason to celebrate until he got with you. He instantly does a lot of research about how to celebrate Valentine’s day and also asks for advice from his dormmates. He ends up getting ten boxes of chocolates (everyone suggested different brands), a teddy bear, and a bouquet of roses. He ends up in front of your dorm and asks you to be his valentine. He makes sure to set up a romantic dinner in the rose maze for you both.

Trey Clover:

Trey has heard about valentine’s and has had some experience with it. Mostly from couples ordering from his family’s bakery during valentines. So Trey has some idea of how to celebrate with you. He bakes your favorite dessert and gets the prettiest bouquet of flowers he can find. He shows up in front of your dorm and asks you to be his valentine. He gets permission from the headmage to leave campus and takes you out on a nice dinner date. And then he takes you anywhere else you want to go on Sage’s island and gets anything you want (if he can afford it).

Cater Diamond:

Cater is an expert at Valentine’s. He hasn’t celebrated outside of exchanging Valentine’s in school, but he’s seen a lot of Valentine's posts on social media and knows the perfect way to celebrate. He gets you a box of chocolates, a cute little teddy bear, and a bouquet of flowers. He also writes a love letter to you with little doodled hearts and flowers along the edge of the paper. He asks you to be his valentine and also asks if you want to make chocolate strawberries with him. You two end up making and then eating chocolate strawberries and Cater only makes five posts about it.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce also isn’t that experienced when it comes to Valentine’s (or romance at all). He ends up calling his mom and asking her for advice which she gladly gives. He takes notes about valentine’s. His mom listed a lot of different candies to give your partner on Valentine’s, so he gets a cute, pink basket and fills it with an assortment of candy and a stuffed animal. He goes to your dorm, gives you the basket and asks you to be his valentine. He then gets permission to go off campus and takes you to the beach for a picnic.

Ace Trappola:

Ace has given a couple of valentine’s to cute girls and guys. However, he’s not used to getting them for someone he’s serious about. Can he just go with a classic box of chocolates? His brother gives him advice because he assumes Ace won’t know what to do. And yes, a box of chocolates is fine. He gets the biggest box Sam has along with a stuffed bear holding a heart. He gives them to you and asks you to be his valentine. If you say yes, he does expect to get a valentine gift from you.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona isn’t experienced in romance or valentines, mainly because he never cared. He gives Ruggie some money and tells him to get a box of chocolates and a stuffed lion. When Ruggie gives him what he ordered him to get, he texts you to come over because he has a surprise. When you show up, he gives you the chocolate and lion and tells you that he chose you as his valentine. And being his valentine means playing a game of chess and then laying in bed for the rest of the day.

Ruggie Bucchi:

He’s always been too busy to think about valentines, and he’s never had the money to buy any valentines. He ends up working extra to get enough money to buy a stuffed hyena. And then he makes you chocolate covered strawberries. He asks you to be his valentine while giving you the two gifts. He cooks a meal for the two of you to share (he takes a couple sneaky bites of your food when you’re not looking).

Jack Howl:

Jack isn’t really experienced with romance unless you count seeing one (1) rom-com so he’s not experienced with valentines. He ends up asking his mom for help and doing what she says. He gets you a stuffed wolf, a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers. He shows up at your dorm and offers the wolf, chocolates, flowers and one of his jackets. He says the jacket is so his scent rubs off on you and because he thinks you’ll look cute in it. He then makes dinner for both of you and lays it out in the fanciest way he can.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, while not experienced with valentines, knows just what to do. He, of course, goes with the basic box of chocolates and stuffed animal (an octopus). He also makes sure to set up a reserved seat in the Mostro lounge that’s set-up fancier than the other. He goes to your dorm, gives you the gifts, and then asks you to dinner. He takes you back to the Mostro lounge and leads you to the fancier table. You two order your food and enjoy a nice dinner. The only downside was that Jade insisted he get paid despite Azul owning the restaurant.

Jade Leech:

He knows what to do. He knows exactly how to celebrate. He shows up in front of your dorm… in hiking gear. That’s right, he’s taking you on a hike for valentine’s day. A romantic hike. On the hike, he gathers different mushrooms and asks you what you think of them. He makes sure to remember which ones you like the most. If you get tired, he’ll pick you up and carry you with him and once you finish the hike, he’ll drop you off at your dorm with a kiss to the back of your hand. And the next morning, you find a terrarium in front of your dorm with some of the mushrooms Jade collected on the hike.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd has 0 valentines knowledge because nobody wants to know how he celebrates it. Except for you apparently. Floyd gets you a BIG stuffed eel, almost as tall as him and cakepops that he made. He gives them to you, telling you that you’re his valentine. You don’t get a choice. He then drags you around campus, doing whatever he finds fun. And at the end of the day he takes you back to his dorm room and falls asleep with you in his arms.

Kalim Al-Asim:

While not having any experience with valentine's day, Kalim knows just how to celebrate. He buys the best quality chocolate and the biggest, fluffiest stuffed bear. He takes it to you and wishes you a happy valentines day. He then has Jamil set up dinner for you two. Afterwards, he takes you on a magic carpet ride through the skies (Ends up singing “A whole new world”). Eventually during the flight, he tells you to look down, and when you do you see a huge heart that he drew earlier in the day just for you. And then he asks you to sleepover in his dorm.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil has always been too busy to care about valentines. He does, of course, know that classic gifts. Chocolates, stuffed animals, flowers, the works. And he gets them for you. A nice box of chocolates, a stuffed snake and a bouquet of flowers. He gives them to you and asks you to be his valentine. And then he makes your favorite meal and sets up a nice candle-lit dinner.(And Kalim did his best not to cause trouble so that you could enjoy the dinner.)

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s more used to receiving valentines gifts than giving them. You’ll be the first person to get valentines gifts from him (his fans are jealous). He gets you (low-fat) chocolates, flowers, a basket of the finest skin-care products and a love letter. He asks you to be his valentine. He takes you to a spa, then dinner and then invites you back to his dorm so that he can fall asleep with you.

Rook Hunt:

Rook’s experience with valentines was just seeing it in different forms of media and finding it beautiful. He knew the moment valentines came around that he had to get you the perfect gifts. He writes an insane amount of poems about your beauty and recites them to you throughout the day. He also gets a box of chocolates and flowers. He gives you the chocolates, flowers and all the poems. He takes you to dinner and lets you have as much food as you want. He can afford it so he will.

Epel Felmier:

Epel doesn’t have any experience with valentines. Unless you count him beating up one of his classmates in third grade on valentines day. He’s heard his parents and grandparents talking about it and kind of knows how to celebrate. He makes caramel apples and gets a stuffed animal. He gifts them to you and asks you to be his valentine. He sets up a nice candle-lit dinner and makes the food all by himself.

Idia Shroud:

He obviously has no experience with valentines. Any experience comes from Valentine's events in games. He gets really nervous when valentines comes around because he doesn’t know what to do. Ortho starts listing different things that people do for valentines to give Idia ideas. He orders a big box of chocolates and a stuffed animal to your dorm along with a note he wrote for you. In the note, he asks you to come to his room. The two of you play video games and watch anime the rest of the day.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus didn’t even know about valentines until Lilia told him about it. He does research about it and what to get for you. He gets you the best chocolates, a stuffed dragon, and a big bouquet of roses. He goes to your dorm and asks you to be his valentine while getting on one knee and offering the gifts to you. He takes you around NRC to look at gargoyles and then takes you back to his dorm. He makes dinner for both of you and afterwards, he takes you to his room to go to sleep.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia doesn’t have experience, but he did a lot of research. The moment he heard about valentines day, it became his favorite holiday. He makes sure to get everything the internet tells him to. Chocolates, stuffed bat, and flowers. He also thought about making cake pops but Silver told him that you didn’t like cake pops so you didn’t have to deal with that. Lilia jumpscares you with the gifts and asks you to be his valentine. He takes you to his room to play video games and once night falls, he takes you for a walk around sage’s island (he didn’t get permission. He doesn’t care). And then he takes you back to his room to sleep.

Silver Vanrouge:

Silver only really grew up with Sebek, so it’s safe to say that he has no experience. However, he’s heard some talk around NRC and has the basics down. So he goes to Sam’s shop and gets some chocolates, a stuffed animal and flowers. He goes to your dorm to ask you to be his valentine and you find him passed out in front of your door with the gifts. He wakes up and asks you to be his valentine. He then takes you for a nice stroll through nature and leads you to a picnic. Only a few minutes later, he ends up sleeping in your lap with forest creatures surrounding you.

Sebek Zigvolt:

He’s above human traditions. Not anymore though. Sebek hears a passing conversation about valentines day and thinks it’s some stupid human holiday. And then you bring it up and tell what it’s about. And now, it doesn’t seem that stupid. He ends up at your dorm with chocolates, a stuffed crocodile, and flowers. No, these aren’t for valentines. They’re just gifts. He takes you on a walk around campus and then back to his dorm where he cooks a nice meal. And afterwards, he takes you to his room to sleep.

Chenya:

Chenya knows about it but never felt the need to participate. He never had a reason to, until now. So he buys your favorite candy, a stuffed cat, and flowers. He sneaks into your dorm and puts them on the couch in the common room and then scares the life out of you. He takes you to RSA and shows you all around campus and introduces you to his dormmates. And then he offers to let you stay over so he can keep you warm for the night.

Neige Leblanche:

He’s gotten a lot of valentines from his fans and has given valentines to his friends. But he’s never had a romantic partner to celebrate with, he’s excited. He gets you the best chocolates, the fluffiest stuffed animal, and the biggest bouquet of flowers. He shows up in front of your dorm and starts signing a love song for you. He gives you the gifts and asks you to be his valentine. He then takes you to do whatever you want to do and also shows you around RSA. He takes you to meet his friends and then walks you back to NRC and kisses the back of your hand before making his back to RSA.

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 3 - Ignihyde]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

**Need to go to bed for work tomorrow so Diasomnia will be on my next day off. Can't stay up long enough to squeeze it in**

If there was one thing Idia hated, it was going out in public. He hated how the sun burned his eyes, all the bugs flying around, the way people looked at his hair, and almost had a heart attack at the idea that he'd have to talk to people.

Major bummer. 0/10, don't recommend.

But he'd suck it up and soldier on because the call of sweets was too tempting to resist. The trek to Sam's isn't the longest from Ignihyde but it's enough to make him pace himself.

Yeah, he's not really an outside person. Or a physical activity person outside of dancing to Premo or working on his projects.

He briefly wonders if Ortho put Sam up to this as he finds his second wind and ascends the hill. Who has a bomb sweets sale and DOESN'T ALLOW ONLINE PURCHASES?! WHY WERE THE DISCOUNTS IN-PERSON ONLY?

Idia breaths a sigh of relief and fixes his hoodie before mustering up his courage and opening the door. He's throwing himself into the proverbial lion's den, into an introvert's worst nightmare!

The noise and people are almost too much but he distracts himself with all the pink and red. Mercifully, the candy is spread out around the store so he doesn't have to stay in the sea of people. Idia doesn't discriminate when it comes to sweets; he gets soft cake rolls, pixie sticks, little donuts, a few chocolate bars, and a couple of limited edition dessert drinks. He's secretly glad Sam's regular stock didn't take a hit because of the holiday; his snack stash needs replenishing. Packs of ramen and little things of convenience bury his sweets stash but he's careful not to crush anything.

He can almost hear Ortho nagging him to get something green or slightly healthy. If he doesn't, Ortho will be mad at him for a week. It becomes a battle of wits between the Shroud brothers and Ortho is the king of juvenile inconveniences. Idia has learned the hard way; Ortho resets his alarms, throttles his wi-fi, messes with his lights, takes apart his tablet or takes it off charge in the middle of the night, and just about anything else he can think of.

Idia begrudgingly puts some green smoothies in his basket. Along with some pudding cups.

Satisfied with his raid, he waits in line. He's chanting to himself the whole time: just walk, don't make eye contact! Just walk, don't make eye contact! The line stalls enough for someone to bump into him and he panics, stumbling forward into the person in front of him. His hair flickers and flares a little in his panic.

People give him space and he babbles a quick apology. He pulls his hoodie up over his hair but it doesn't hide everything. It makes him feel safe, though. He relaxes a little.

Then, he hears it.

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

Oof. MAXIMUM cringe. NO ONE on campus has a charisma stat high enough to make THAT work! Except Kingscholar and Schoenheit, maybe.

It gets worse when he realizes someone said that TO YOU.

OH NO! HE HAS COMPETITION!

The tactic looks like it failed, though, so he's comforted. You wouldn't go for something so cheap and cheesy! This guy looks like a D-level tank AT BEST. You're an SSR easy. D-levels and SSR's don't go together!

He's an SSR when it comes to stealth and technical skill so maybe one day you guys can link up or whatever. Your choice. The tips of his hair turn pink and he blows on the closest strand to mute the color.

The guy is doubling down. "You're rolling a one, pleb. A hard one." Idia whispers to himself.

"You say somethin', Shroud?" the guy turns to him.

FUCK, HE KNOWS HIS NAME?!

Idia's hair roars to life with surprise. He yanks the hoodie down before the fabric singes and crisps. His strands are wild, untamed, and yellow. His instinct is to stutter and deny it, to backtrack, but your eyes are just shy of pleading and it makes him swallow the word soup.

"I-I said you're rolling a hard one. Y-You're failing!" Idia doesn't know if he's going to faint first or if his legs will give out. His heart might go first.

The guy clearly doesn't get the reference. The brain is buffering and the lag is too great. He shakes his head with a sharp, toothy smile, unable to help himself. Dumb normie, Idia gives a breathy chuckle. Idia has that unfortunate condition where his face talks for him and it must've said some shit because the tank is now laser-focused on him.

You're over the counter before he can process anything, grabbing the guy by the back of his shirt and telling him to leave. The guy just jerks his shoulders and stays the course. Idia sees you get ripped over the counter and tumble to the floor. You recover decently and grab the closest thing to you but something about the sound of your body hitting the floor sends him into a rage he'd only felt in online arguments.

It feels like his veins are burning. He can tell by the size of his shadow and the light dancing across the floor that his hair is long and ferociously orange. Raging orange. Lethal orange.

"Caution," Idia manages somehow through his rage. "C-Contents are hot." he knows he has to stay put. If he approaches the guy he will LITERALLY catch on fire. It's not a bad idea, and he can see the gears spinning in the guy's head. He's wondering if Idia's going to do it or if he has enough time to hit the door.

The guy chooses the door.

It takes several minutes for Idia to calm down. His hair seems to shrink as he deflates into his usual quiet mannerisms. It's shorter than normal! "Used up all my fuel," Idia complains as he drags himself to the counter. "Need calories." he melts pitifully into the counter.

"You need to buy what you burned, too." Sam points to the singed chips and snacks. He already has a few packs that are beyond saving in his arms. Idia realizes the shop is basically empty now and finds the energy to blush. Pink cheeks look really cute against his blue hair!

"Does this mean I'm done for the day?"

"Yes." Sam looks at you. He's not mad or disappointed, but he means you're done. "I think you're a bit of a fire hazard." he teases.

You both blush.

None of this was in his decision tree! WHAT DOES HE DO?

"You, uh, you want to come by Ignihyde and, um, watch some stuff? You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I just, you know, since it was my fault and all--"

"Is that a nat twenty in the wild? I think I have to now!" you joke.

"You get that?" Idia's mouth hangs open in surprise.

"It might have different names but I think it's the same thing in my world." you shrug. He's so down to discuss games from another dimension!

A nat twenty indeed!

----

Ortho was doing his best to fill the gaps with whatever Sam's shop had to offer. Idia's grocery order was a little delayed due to the Valentine's holiday so he needed something decent to tide him over. Determined to keep his brother from an early, sodium-induced death, Ortho took it upon himself to shop. He wasn't totally heartless, though, so he'd throw in a few bags of chips to make Idia feel better.

A lot of this chocolate was out of the question! The sugar was through the roof! Then again, Idia was hopelessly addicted to sweets. He's pretty sure his brother broke some kind of record for sugar tolerance.

Equipped with Vil's suggestions and the things he researched, Ortho started hunting for healthy foods. He filled the basket with smoothies, yogurts, dark chocolate, fruit, and protein bars. There should be enough texture and flavor variation there to make Idia happy. Well...relatively.

Ortho floated patiently in line, subtly recording the conversations around him for later playback. Organic human interaction was interesting and would help him improve his algorithms and processes.

It's not like it hurt anything! All of the conversations were innocent and--

WAS SOMEONE TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE ON HIS FRIEND? HIS BESTEST, MOST PRECIOUS FRIEND?! ONLY HIS BIG BROTHER CAN DO THAT!

You may not totally get that he's a techno-organic construct (and not a boy who just really loves pretending to be a robot) but HE GETS that YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE AND THAT'S NOT OKAY!

"Excuse me, pardon me," Ortho weaves carefully through the people, playing a little 'wee-woo' alarm through his speaker system.

He floats beside the guy, staring at him with those big gold eyes. Pinching his thumb and pointer finger together turns up the alarm.

The guy is ignoring the alarms! How ridiculous! Is this what Idia means by natural selection and survival of the fittest?

A red light pops out of his shoulder, spinning in place.

HE'S IGNORING THAT, TOO?!

"You're being interrupted!" Ortho glares at him now, tuft of blue hair dancing angrily. "This conversation is clearly inappropriate for the setting and is henceforth terminated!"

"Terminated? Big words for a little boy! Go away, big people are talking!" the guy tries to shoo him away.

"Don't be rude to him!" you snap, "And he's right! The conversation is terminated!"

"Terminated!" Ortho echoes, pumping his fist. "Terminated!" he repeats, laughing when some of the people in line begin to join in and chant 'terminated, terminated!'

The guy leaves without buying anything and Ortho is happy to take his place. He pays for the the snacks. "And here's a sticker for you for being so sweet!" you put a sticker on the back of his hand. It's a heart wearing sunglasses.

Ortho laughs despite himself. One day he'll get Idia to explain it to you in a way you understand. He's surprised nothing like him exists in your world but he's glad to be here with you in Twisted Wonderland.

[caitchercatlady]

How the TWST Boys Spend Valentine's Day w/You!

The Third Years

Trey Clover

This should be a day in which Trey gets a thank you break for all he has done for you and the rest of Heartslabyul. There is supposed to be a wonderful bakery in Foothill Town, and though it's not a complete break away from sweets, at least Trey doesn't have to bake. The both of you share a chocolate cake, which will lead to some staining of the face. Trey offers to clean the chocolate off you...the same way you two cleaned the plate.

Cater Diamond

Has a little bit of social media envy around this time of the year. He already planned on giving you little gifts anyway, but it would be nice to record the whole thing, too. All of your delightful reactions will be posted online for everyone to see, comment, and heart on Cater's MagiCam page. Cater may not be the mushy type, but you're gonna change that when you surprise him with a cheek kiss on live.

Leona Kingscholar

Doesn't believe he has time for holiday of love cheer. He's about to learn that you do. You don't have to do anything too active. Just spending time under the NRC garden trees is enough. Leona lets you play with his hair as long as you don't make it all messy. Oh, you move his hair just enough that it still remains perfectly...unkempt as it usually is. Then, his forehead is shown just enough for some cheeky, soft, and cute peaks.

Vil Schoenheit

Not the one to disappoint his date on the Day of Romance. He shall take you to the finest place in Foothill Town for dinner and he shall gift you the finest present he can think of to make you smile. All of this to show you how much he cares for you. Then, as you take a fine walk along the pier, gazing up at the brightest of stars, the two of you will share a lovely kiss of romance.

Rook Hunt

Knows how to make your perfect Valentine's Day (I mean, are we surprised?) Whatever your favorite things in the world are, he will deliver them. Wherever place you wanna go, he will take you there. Whatever your favorite song is, he will sing it. Your dream place to be kissed, as long as he has your consent, he shall make your dream come true.

Idia Shroud

Not the one to go public on the holiday of love (in which he most likely loathes). He's already been trapped by capitalism. He doesn't need another reason to go deeper. You can tell he's not in the mood to be alone as he asks you join a server and a play a few rounds to distract him from the red and pink heart fodder. All's harmless in an MMO farming game, right? He must've forgot that the game had a kissing feature.

Malleus Draconia

Has been aware of the holiday, but has never gotten to experience it for himself (as he hasn't had many chances to celebrate). He's overheard Lilia gushing over how much of a romantic you are, and Malleus can't ignore that information. But what can he do to express his wishes to be yours for the day...or maybe more after. At night, when you least expect he, he poofs over to Ramshackle, violin in tow. The sweet music captures you immediately. Malleus will float up to your window, prepared to receive your sentiment. A simple, yet thankful kiss on his forehead is enough for Malleus's chest to thump more than his heart could ever muster before.

Lilia Vanrouge

He's been so busy with...other things that Valentine's Day has been one of the holidays that slipped his mind until he arrived at NRC. His last few attempts at getting into the holiday spirit were...attempts. Now that he has you, his platonic cards to his friends and love cards for his family are top notch. How can he ever thank you? A kiss on the hand, perhaps? He was raised in the traditional ways after all.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Another reason to stay

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Furina, Neuvillete ]

[ Genshin Impact ]

⚠️ Mention of depression and suicidal ideation

Some conforting fic with some of my favorite characters!! Yeeeey!!

I decided to keep this as neutral as posible because i want to make sure everyone can get the comfort, no matter if you like them in a romantic or platonic sense <3

Furina

Getting to be close to Furina is quite the journey, she is considered and idol all around Fontaine and she is loved as such what already makes it dificult to get to actually know her (and even when you can make an appointment with the hydro archon or have the opportunity to work along her she normally doesn't let her guard down nor drop her excentric character)

Still, once you manage to leave a good impression on Furina it will just be matter of time and patience for you two to grow close to each other, becoming incredibly meaningful in boths life almost in the same way, once you become so important for Furina she will grow a bit clingy and even doesn't bother to hide how much she appreciate you (even if she deny it when someone ask)

You grow to mean so much to her that even without knowing you become a reason why this life is worth living, a reminder of why everything she has being throught and all her efforts have been completely valid and that she has been doing a good job, no matter when you two grow together (if before or after the prophecy) that doesn't chance how she feels nor the fact that she struggle a little to directly tell you how important you are for her

Furina had been a bit too distracted by the comfort your presence brings her that when she got to know that you struggle with serious problems like depression or even have thought before about taking your life is completely shocking for her, she is in panic the moment she get to know, even if she didn't got to know the extent of your depression she will be so scared that may end up even thinking is worst that how it actually it is because now she is too scared that she may lose you

Furina is too scared to ask for further details but also is trying really hard to think how to help you, her mind goes back and forth between thinking what she can do to help you and how she could tell you how important you truly are for her and how much you have helped her while trying to don't broke in tears

Furina needs a while to think on all of this before being able to calm down, and probably some time alone because she is a mess and doesn't want you to see her like this so you won't feel responsible for it or something, but even even when she manage to calm down she won't be less worried, she will just be able to think with a clever mind and actually try to make a plan to bright up your days just like you have done for her (and, also, making a plan about how to finally tell you how much you have helped her and how comforting your simply presence it is without embarrassing herself in the process)

It end up being easier to offer sincere help and care than she thought since she can understand the feelings and what you are going throught, your stories may not be that same but the feelings you are being tormented with are, she knows how you feel and because of that she can offer you an understanding company

When you express how after all this time and for how close you two have grow to be she has become one of the reasons why you still find reasons to stay alive and keep trying everyday is shocking for Furina, but this time in the complete opposite way, it makes her feel flattered and a bit embarrassed but that slowly transforms into an inmense happiness, and this time she won't be able to hold back her tears because, for her you are just as special and important as she is for you

Neuvillete

It isn't the easiest thing to get close to Neuvillete just because he is normally serious and it can be quite intimidating his position as the ludex of Fontaine, but once you get to know him better you can see how kind and surprisingly gentle he actually can be, as well as really caring

Once you two grow close enough to consider you someone special your simply presence and company can mean a lot for him, he doesn't really have much free time because of his work and all the responsabilities but he is always making sure you are alright and taking time to offer you help if you ever have a problem

Neuvillete can have quite a hard time when it comes to feelings, he is not excatly clueless but because of the complexity of the emotions and having to hold back himself since as the Ludex he can't get carried away from his feelings despite being quite emotional makes him have some troubles so he would have a bit some troubles to understand what are you going throught, but he will try to actually understand because of how much he cares for you

As the Ludex he have seeing all kind of people in court, with all kind of reactions and motivations but that doesn't stop him from not only be surprised but also concern when he understand the terrible state you are, even if you smile or seem to have a good time whenever you two spend time together that doesn't ereaser the deep sadness and suffering that you have to live with, and, honeslty, he is quite heartbroken because of that. If you don't say it directly or even try to don't make a big deal out of it he will try to don't talk more about the topic but he simply can't take the thought out of his head (if later that day it start to raining out of nowhere is probably because he is still thinking about the matter and feeling more and more concern)

Neuvillete will make up his mind to help you with everything he can, he won't exactly use his position to benefit you or something, he will rather try his best to help you, personally trying to learn more about depression and how to help you as well as being extra caring, he is just way too worried and will take him a while to finally know how to help

Neuvillete is already worried enough but knowing that you have tought about dying as something serious, not as a posibility but as an option, just make him grow more concern (but it is until you tell him, either directly or indirectly, he doesn't want to jump into more concerning conclusions just because he can't stop thinking about it and growing more worried), he can't imagine what it is and yet won't judge you, again, he wants to understand you to be able to help you in any way he can, he doesn't want to lose you after all (at least not this early and sudden)

But the moment you admit that he is one of the reason why you stay alive, one of the reasons why you keep finding the strengtht to keep going and one of the reasons why life is at least slighy more bearable Neuvillete will be incredibly touched, he feels like is some kind of honor to be this important in your life (just as you are important in his), he won't know how to react or even how to answer but will definetly thank you for it, promising that you will always be able to count on him

Actually, knowing this will gave Neuvillete as sense of responsability with you, but not in a bad way it just makes him feel like the efforts he constantly does to help you are actually helping so he needs to keep with this, to be there for you, to be able to provide you help and because it makes him incredibly happy seeing you genuinely happy and even improving

[take-everything-you-can]

NO LOVE LOST

Pt.1 .. Pt.2

What happens when Steve finally meets his match... and what happens when she wants absolutely nothing to do with men?

Oh my god I posted this without thanking my queens wtf @andvys and @ghost-proofbaby , @keeryhours thank you for always helping me through any questions and giving me just the inspiration to go for it always !!

18+ minors DNI

WC: 2.9k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem Reader ( nn- Angel)

TW: mentions of divorce, mentions of food, platonic Stobin, male masturbation.

Rolling over to see the sunrise instead of the slope of curves always made Steve feel like he was in a never-ending rut. It was the same old boring routine, the same cycle day in and day out. Today felt different. Instead of loneliness, when he rolled over, he felt a little twinge of hope. 

Hope that got him out of bed before noon and fed his brain with little what-ifs of what could happen tonight. Why? Well, today was Valentine's Day. now he knew what everyone thought what a fucking sap that this was his favorite holiday but fucking sue him. Simply put he was just a guy who loved love and wanted to give what he had and wanted someone to return the fucking favor, but no one ever got the memo. 

Every year he looked forward to the corny paper valentines that would hit the shelves in Melvald’s, the carnations people could buy for their sweetheart in high school, and now that he had become an adult he adored the way he and Robin had made it a tradition to go out. She would wear those cringy cupid wings and make him wear a headband with an arrow that looked like it had gone in one ear and out the other, but he loved it Loved going along with the bit if it made her smile. 

Tonight he was going to get drunk and take someone home, he had a plan. Buy them a drink, flirt his way into the sheets, and maybe in the morning he could look over and not feel so alone. He would pull out all his best moves, maybe even pull a few of Robin's tried and true that she swore by, anything to not go home by himself. 

Hours had passed and he had started to get a little worried since he had heard nothing from Robin about their plans so he decided to text her. 

As his phone rang Steve was tempted to let it go to voicemail but knowing Robin, he couldn’t do it, she would be beyond pissed. 

“This better be good robs.” he was quiet trying to hear her over the music in the background of wherever she was. 

“It’s not ideal but we can’t go out tonight Stevie. I’m so sorry.”  He tried to be mad he did but the wave of sadness overwhelmed him. “ I know you probably hate me right now.” 

“I don’t hate you, never could.” he cut her off quickly. He could hear the giant sigh of relief she let out. 

“look my cousin, she just got divorced and I told her she could stay with me until she got back on her feet and I promised her a night of movies and good pasta. So would you maybe be into doing that instead?” He thought about it, he didn't need Robin to go out but where was the fun in that? 

“ What movies ?” she laughed and told him to just bring his ass or he was going to be on wine duty. He laughed with her because when was he not on wine duty, he always brought extra bottles knowing if Robin said she had two she only had about half of one.

So he made his way to the store to pick up two extra bottles of the nicest wine he could find and threw a few bars of chocolate into the mix while he was at the register. 

“This all for you ? “ the cashier looked at all he had placed on the little conveyor belt and he nodded his head with a small smile. 

“ Indeed it is.” 

“ Lucky partner, I wish mine would do something like this instead I’ll probably go home to a husband that forgot.” Steve sadly gives his grievances and hands over the amount he owes, thanking the cashier for helping him. 

He felt a small glimmer of happiness that he wasn’t the only one having a shitty holiday, but he was also gutted by the fact that they at least were going to get to go home and curl up next to someone who cared enough to marry them. 

The drive wasn’t a long one but god did it feel like it. Robins' small apartment building had a few stories to it and she just so happened to live on the top floor. As he walked up the stairs and towards her door all he could hear was some low rock music floating through. Knocking Robin instantly swung the door open almost as if their platonic telepathy had notified her of his presence but that was shattered as he was shown the screen of her phone.

 “Why did you sit outside in your car for five minutes? You scared Stevie ?” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, 'cause you're just so scary Robs.” She gave him a small tug and pulled him into her apartment and the music he had noticed was coming from the kitchen, her small radio blasting out their parent's favorites, the classics as the station called them. 

“It smells amazing” He heard coming from the now open bathroom door, steam rolling out behind you and he found that you were only in a towel. Surprise on both of your faces as you didn’t expect Steve to be here by the time you got out of the shower and for him, well he didn’t expect you to be so drop-dead gorgeous.  Robin nudges Steve in the stomach with her elbow to get him to shut his mouth since it had slightly dropped open at the sight before him. 

“Steve this is my cousin we just call her Angel.” Steve looked at Robin with an upturned smile thinking about how cute her name was, how true it sounded. 

“It’s not my name but I had a cat named Lucifer growing up and you know Fallen Angel and all that blah blah blah.” She walks away and into Robin's guest room, steve assumes to get dressed, and turning to Robin he pushes her back for the sharp jab she had given to his ribcage. 

“You didn’t tell me she was a walking fucking dream, Buckley.” He hissed out low, scared he would be overheard. 

“Not like you have a chance, Steve, she is one my cousin, and two” she also drops down to a whisper. “ Recently divorced.” 

“So? If anything I’d say my chances are pretty fucking up there.” She just rolls her eyes and tells him she is going to take a quick shower of her own before the movie marathon she has planned out and asks him to finish up making dinner. 

He doesn’t mind, he thinks cooking is calming and honestly it turns his brain off from everything. Sometimes he would make a batch of cookies just to find peace before bed. It was soothing, the process of doing the same thing over and over again and getting the same delicious outcome.

The scent of coconut and rose, a weird mix of the two that worked well hit him, turning to find you standing at the other end of Robin's island. 

“I brought some wine for the movies. Would you like a glass?” He took a bottle out of the fridge and grabbed three glasses out of the cabinet. Pouring one for you and one for himself. He hated warm wine and so did Robin so he just put the bottle back in the fridge until she was ready for one.

“You know your way around robins huh?” You questioned, a subtle shift in your tone and Steve thinking nothing of it answered. 

“Yeah, it's like my second home honestly.” He turned back to stir the pasta Robin had set to simmer and watched as you sipped on your glass slowly.  

“Sorry that I ruined your and Robins's plans she said you guys go out every year.” Steve felt the way his shoulders tensed and shrugged.

 “It's nothing just a little tradition.” You sigh walking over to where Steve is standing next to the stove and taking a spoon to the sauce. Tasting it you look Steve in the eye and tell him the pasta needs some pepper. He takes a different spoon tastes it and agrees that it does need something but not pepper it needs something light. So instead he grabs a lemon and grates a bit of it creating the zest he wants to flourish. 

You roll your eyes walk over to where you had begun this interaction and pick your glass back up. Steve is standing wondering what exactly he could have done to upset you in the mere minutes you were alone with him and he comes up blank.

 “Do we .. is there a problem Angel?” You put a hand on your hip and smile. 

“Nope, no problem I just think it's kinda strange you are all alone on Valentine's Day.”  And he doesn't mean to, he tries to hold it back but something in your tone sounded like every single past partner's accusation of something being fundamentally wrong with him. 

“I could say the same about you but looks like we are both alone.” 

“Who's alone?” Robin pops herself back into the kitchen and grabs some plates from a cupboard behind Steve. 

“We are, all three of us so painfully single.” You say staring at Steve before taking a plate from Robin that she had filled. She laughs but deep inside it hits Steve like a car to a brick wall. Painfully single, god was he that transparent? Did he just give off that vibe? 

“I never said I was single.” You hum taking your plate to the couch and leave him and Robin in the kitchen. She is biting her lip with a sorry look in her eyes. 

“I told her we usually spend Valentine's Day looking for someone to spend breakfast with hate me all you want. “ 

“Could never “She hands him a plate and sets it down to fill up her glass. Walking over to her living room to find that you had taken his space on the couch, the one he always sat in. The one he could hear best from, see the subtitles from the distance, but you were snuggled in. You had a blanket over your lap and your plate had rested against your chest while you ate and all in his fucking spot.  So he took the other cushion a bit off from where the screen could be read clearly but he could just ask Robin to turn it up a bit more. He could do this … right? Get through one Valentine's Day that Cupid decided not to grace him on. He could turn this thing around. 

He couldn't. Working on the second bottle close to being finished with sixteen candles and a craving for cake himself Steve could confidently say he could not turn this night around. He had tried to get comfortable in his position and he just couldn’t he felt like your eyes were on him throughout the entire movie which led to him sipping his glass a bit more and now he was past the point of tipsy he was drunk, but at least he wasn't the only one. 

Every time he had gotten up to pour himself some more you and Robin would hold your glasses out for a refill and he would more than happily do that, he did, until wine turned into small sips of whatever cheap vodka Robin had in the back of her freezer. When the movie ended he carried Robin to her room since she had passed out in her large chair sometime around the wedding scenes. Deciding that he would do the best friend thing and tackle the dishes he began running the water and waiting for it to turn warm which always took forever in Robin’s apartment, he swore the heater was starting to go bad but she kept telling him that if it wasn't giving her a cold shower she didn't care. He lathered the dishes setting them on the rack when he was done rinsing them and you had appeared next to him, now dressed in a robe over the comfortable p.js you had been wearing. 

Thinking you would just say something but instead just stood there watching him. 

“Can I assist you with something.” he could hear the small huff of air that left you like you didn’t expect him to acknowledge your existence. 

“Why are you washing our dishes.” He didn’t understand but answered. 

“Well you are a guest and Robin hates a dirty sink and I honestly don’t mind doing it-”

“Well stop, you aren’t getting anything out of doing them so just stop. “ Now he was on a whole different planet because what in the fuck were you talking about. 

“Excuse me? Who said I needed to get anything just to do the dishes? I don't know who made you feel the need to use everything as a transaction but that is not how things go around here. You see it needs to be done, you do it. No, do this and you shall receive fuck you ever just done anything to be a nice person?” He could feel the heat in his cheeks with the alcohol flowing through him, his eyes staring at the room like it was on an axis, and his tone starting to rise in the audacity of wanting something out of Robin. An accusation, another from someone who this time didn’t even know him. 

“I’m so-” 

“Save it. I just want to go to bed I suggest you do the same.” 

“ Do not think for one second you are doing this for nothing.” it stops him on his way to his little makeshift bed on the couch. “ You men are all the same, even if it's not for something transactional you still end up on the side of gain Steven.” He was stuck still, not knowing how to even respond. Who had hurt you into thinking all men were the same? Maybe they were in a club with all of his exes, the ones who made him feel the same way. That all women were set on their relationship with him never going farther unless he was to act like he did in high school, unless he took on the persona of his father. He would never so here he was on Valentine's Day alone, drunk and sleeping on his best friend's couch with a person who hated all men not even a hundred feet away. Lovely. 

He didn’t know what time it was when he laid down the numbers on the box beneath Robin's television had been too blurry then, but as the hours went on the numbers seemed to brighten and they now read three a.m. tossing and turning, tired or not being able to find a comfortable position and you, your voice was running through his head over and over, telling him he was only a nice guy for profit. Who the fuck were you to judge him? You didn’t know anything about him and then it sent him on a tangent of well he didn’t know you either. He could only see what was on the surface, and although the surface was breathtaking he felt the twinge of wanting to know you deep, know the center of what made you, and change your perspective on men, or at least on him. 

The longer he thought about you the harder it was to stray away from the thoughts of your face and the way your body looked in that towel. The water dripped from your hair before you had put it up, letting the droplets fall in between-. Alright, he had to stop, he couldn't think of you that way, or could he? He listened out to see if he heard anything but all he heard was the ice dumping from the fridge and soft snores coming from down the hall. Was he really about to do this? 

His dick answered for him, half hard at the thought of just having you drop the towel was all he needed. He let his hand wander under the thin blanket that he had covering himself. Gripping his cock through his boxers and felt the weight of it and squeezed letting it fill out before he slipped his band beneath the waistband. He started stroking himself wishing it was your mouth on him and you had dropped to your knees in front of him, inviting him in with the warmth. Letting the pre he had slid down his shaft with some help but it just wasn’t enough. He brought his hand up to his mouth and spit in it imagining that it was you who had provided and he let his fist wrap around the length again. The slick wet sounds worked him up and he took and pushed his boxers out of the way with his other hand. Letting his hips buck into the pull of his dick, hissing out at the feeling of his release approaching fast. 

“Need a hand?” 

[deadbaguette]

Crack AU treated seriously: Diomdes goes to Ithaca with a twist

So this would generally be your typical Diomedes going to Ithaca AU. Presumably after getting exiled (? Is there a better word for it?), instead of going to modern day Italy he goes to Ithaca under the impression that he’ll see Odysseus there. But, of course he doesn’t because The Odyssey is happening. The twist that makes NO SENSE and is just purely my want to see my platonic rarepair happen (Telemachus and Neoptolemus/Pyrrhus), and the twist is: for whatever reason, Neo is there with Diomedes. Don’t ask why because I could not explain to you a good reason to make this happen lmfao

Story elaborated below but it’s a little long be warned

I like the dynamic of Neoptolemus and Diomedes, mostly because in so many ways as soldiers Diomedes foils/contrasts Achilles but in so many ways parallels his son. Diomedes gets on begrudgingly with Neo, and I could go on a whole other rant on a different post about some fake dynamics/scenarios for just them, but the main point in this post is that Neo somehow SOMEHOW tags along with Diomedes. They reach Ithaca together and meet Penelope and Telemachus.

They greet Diomedes and Pyrrhus with good courtesy, but the elephant in the room of “hold on where tf is your husband??? he was so eager to go back to you guys???” is very present. One way or another Penelope explains the situation, that being Odysseus is absent/mia (much to his own dismay) and the suitors all trying to wed Penelope. Diomedes is sad obv (I’m not gonna go super big into the angst right now) but he tries to brainstorm with Penelope on solutions for her predicament. Since Odysseus was his closest friend (more than friend for me personally but u can interpret it as platonic if u want) and he knows that Odysseus would want what’s best for his wife and son, they think of a solution that can the guarantee of their safety as of now until they hear news of Odysseus. That solution is fake marriage bcs I am a bit of a sucker for that troupe.

But back to Neoptolemus because he’s here too, I want him to bond with Telemachus what with their dads not being here (one’s dead one’s absent). Neo is like way stronger than Telemachus so at first he thinks he’s a bit of a wimp (keep in mind they’re like both teenagers, Neo’s life was just kinda fucked up), but over time they get along better. Pyrrhus’ relationship with Odysseus is a little complicated, so while Penelope and Diomedes might share all the good stories/parts of Odysseus with, Pyrrhus got off to a slightly rocky start with him lol. What with Odysseus taking him away from his mom and basically all the war shenanigans (war crimes), Telemachus for the first time has a whole and humanized version of his dad. It’s more than what the suitors have said out of malice and jealousy, the things Neo has told him have opened up the trickery/cunning side of Odysseus more than he’d known before. He’s jealous that it seems like everyone knows more about his dad than him, but he’s grateful to have someone his age who would view Odysseus more like he would: an annoying dad/uncle??? (Neo vehemently objects to this, and Odysseus would too. “You’re not my fucking dad!!!” “Holy shit thank the GODS for that!!!”)

All in all, happy family. Odysseus returns home to Penelope and Telemachus, and now two surprise guests too. Telemachus has like 3 kinda parents now (Diomedes might be more like an uncle) and a kinda brother/friend/??? I love my little delusional found family. Odysseus is more than a little surprised, considering this IS Neoptolemus. Kid did a 180° in terms of personality in Troy and then ANOTHER 180° somewhere on Ithaca at some point. Or maybe more like a 90° turn in terms of personality, I imagine Telemachus is the most sane of the family and it is much to his dismay.

And when they all eventually die (Diomedes won’t ascend to godhood here I want him to be in the underworld with the rest of the fam) they’ll live happily in the underworld and Pyrrhus can catch up with his dad and mom.

[piko-rose]

My Personal Headcanon On Why Amy's Love For Sonic Died Down Lately (and their dynamic)

When they were younger, Amy's love for Sonic was pretty extreme, and Sonic was, understandable, uncomfortable for the most part. He knows she means well, but that girl needs to calm down.

She can fight, but sometimes her hammer could only stun her enemies for a while. (It took her a long time to get rid of that robot that has been chasing her around Station Square.) She wasn't fully independent yet, even if she fought on her own a couple of times.

She often follows Sonic and his friends around. She is part of the team, but she was not a strong as she is now at the time yet.

She admires Sonic. A LOT. And Sonic knows that. Obviously, he could only run away from something like that, since he is NOT ready for that kind of thing, and whether Amy takes the hint or stop, she still loves him.

...BUT, I think things were slightly starting to change between her and Sonic after Lost World.

Remember this line?

You remember that? Okay, okay. Here's another totally unrelated question:

Before the events of Lost World, when was the last time Amy said "I love you" to Sonic out loud?

...YEP. 😈 (Unless I'm missing something, let me know lmao)

As more games and adventures come out, the characters get slightly older, and Amy is 12 to 13 now, and she is most certainly at that age where her body starts to change, but especially on how she views Sonic.

She knows she loves Sonic, but it was this moment during her change where she actually wanted to admit that she loves him.

I believe that Amy was all about sharing her affection to him not through confessions, but through obvious hints. Sonic totally got it, and there was no need to confess. Sonic knows she loves her.

...But she never said it. And she almost did, but she never did again for a while.

I think this was the moment in her life where, oh, God, she actually loves Sonic. SHE LOVES HIM, WHAT.

And she was looking back at all the times she had with Sonic that she can now see were unpleasant to Sonic (At least that's what she thinks) and that's probably why she isn't so expressive about her love to him than how she used to back then.

She wasn't sure what to do with this realization, and sets aside it for a while, and nearly stayed as her casual, peppy self... until the Eggman War happened.

During the 6 months of being with the Resistance, fighting Eggman's army all day and all night, all she can think of was Sonic.

She dreams that he still with not just her, but with her friends. She just wanted to see Sonic again, she just wants to be with her hero again.

But I'd like to think that she was also thinking about how she used to treat Sonic back when they were younger, how Sonic would almost always run away from her whenever she asks him out, or always look so uncomfortable whenever she gets so close to him.

Cringing at those memories big time, she wanted to change and hopefully when Sonic is okay and comes back, she can be better for him.

...Or will he still find her uncomfortable regardless? Would he even be happy to see her at all if he did survive?

But, hold on! She can't just give up her love for Sonic! He made her who she is today! A peppy, nature-loving, hammer-swinging, confident, brave... loud-mouth... annoying... Sonic obsessed... weak... pathetic... lonely little girl.

If she gives up on Sonic, it'll be like she gave up on the one hedgehog who saved her life. If she didn't she'll still be the same ol' Amy.

I also like to think she had parents a long while before she met Sonic, and was even expecting a little sister, but a robot invasion happened from where she was and attacked her parents and instead of trying to save them, after getting hurt, she ran away, hoping that they'll come back okay. But they never did.

She was all alone, and needed someone, a friend, a new family, someone who will hold her hand, anyone, to be there for her. But she was ignored by lots, and at that point, she's better off by herself, but still longed for company.

Eventually though, her tarot cards told her her future hero, and there might be hope after all. She encountered Sonic, held onto the belief of the cards tight, and the rest is history.

So, with that headcanon in mind, not only did Amy loose her parents that she didn't save because of her cowardliness (she was only so little at the time that happened) and also Sonic, who she thought will be her only hope, but now gone.

She doesn't even care if he did come back, he'd probably hate her now after everything she did to him, always talking about their "future wedding" or forcing him to go to Twinkle Park.

For the last few months of the war, it was nothing but Amy mentally beating herself up for either refusing to change or moving on, and they are both not fine choices.

She loves Sonic, but he does not love her, and she finally, finally realized it. And it's probably for the best if no body loved her at all.

But of course Sonic did survive and all of her worries wash away in an instant, she's just not expressive about her love for Sonic AT ALL now, since she's still worried about it but rather not mention it to Sonic because it doesn't matter.

If Sonic doesn't love her, then her feelings don't matter to him, and according to Amy herself, that is okay.

But also, I'd like to think that Sonic was thinking about his friends a lot up in the Death Egg for the past months, sometimes it's Tails (worried for his safety), sometimes it's Shadow (because he's wondering why he would join Eggman.) At some point, for a few days, Amy was in his mind the longest, and he felt bad about how he thought he was rude and pushy to her.

He wondered if she's not thinking about it too much, and if she is, will she give up on him? Yeah, he doesn't feel the same and still not looking for a relationship, but it's so strange but interesting how anyone could ever like someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. Amy was never afraid to show that, and she probably might be now.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. They were kids when she was like this, but he was so... arrogant at the time too. Not a lot happened at the time yet. He'd always have trouble expressing how much he value his friends, until he shattered the Paradox Prism. (I'd like to think Prime took place before Forces. It makes sense.)

She is such a sweet girl, and he probably made her believe that he didn't care for her. Just because he doesn't feel the same, that doesn't mean he hates her at all.

He wished he never ran away from Amy... Worrying for his little bro and wishing to be a good person for Amy was when Sonic cried in the Death Egg for the first and only time.

Frontiers, in my opinion, is kind of confirming their dynamic now. Sonic is a lot more sincere and kinder to Amy and she is not all hyperactive and lovey to Sonic. There is probably a real reason for this now.

They are both hiding their feelings from them, and they are both unaware of this. Amy, hiding her mental issues from Sonic, and Sonic, hiding his guilt away from Amy.

None of those things are important now. Sonic is with Amy and Amy is with Sonic. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

They don't care if they'll ever be something more when they get older. None of that matters anymore. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

Maybe someday they'll both talk about it, but for now, the present is important. They care about each other too much to think about it right now.

It's the kind of love that is unbreakable. It doesn't even have to be romantic. It's just love. Love is important for everyone, in any form. It's something Sonic and his friends need. And especially Sonic and Amy.

Amy Rose is the living embodiment of love, and without her, a lot would go downhill for Sonic and co. Heck, if it weren't for her, Shadow wouldn't have never remembered Maria's promise, which lead him to save the world with Sonic, before he temporarily disappeared from their lives for a while.

She is always there to lend a helping hand for anybody, even bad guys like Metal Sonic, and despite what she had been through, both in Forces and headcanon wise, she still fights back, even without her hammer.

She will pick you back up on your feet, reminding you that you are important and that you are loved, and that you should never give up. It's pretty much the words of encouragement she herself needed also...

She is still the happy, hyper, butt-kicking hedgehog we all know and love, but she still need someone to pick her back up on her feet after so long. Thankfully, she has her friends and her blue hero. The hero who made her who she is today.

I think Amy has no idea how important she thought she is, but Sonic does. Sonic knows fully well how important she is to a lot of people. It's about time he returns the favor to her. It's his turn to remind her how much a lot of people love her.

How much he loves her.

And I feel like The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog was the moment where their dynamic really shined, but also the starting point of their relationship not only healing, but also the next chapter of what's to come for them.

Everyone, friends old and new, gathered around for a special birthday. A birthday for the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose.

It was such a special moment in Amy's life. After years of chasing and following the people she look up to, she is part of the team, but most importantly, she is part of the family.

She is fully realized as someone more than just a fangirl, but someone strong, courageous, creative, kind and a big inspiration for others.

I feel like this moment here...

-is where Amy is eternally grateful to call her friends her family. A family she thought she'll never have again. She's not alone anymore, and as long as they're by her side, she'll never will be again.

Her chasing days are over. She's finally caught up to them. She's finally home.

And it's all thanks to Sonic.

If it weren't for him, she'd probably be alone forever. Her past moments with Sonic might be embarrassing to look back on for a while, but they are good memories regardless, because they involve him.

Sonic saved her life in more ways than one, and despite everything, he's grateful to have her too.

He cares about her. He really does... And in her eyes, that all she needed to know. As long as Sonic loves her in his own way, she'll be happy.

Amy hasn't given up on Sonic. As long as Amy always supports him, he'll be happy.

Maybe sometime in the future, they can talk about their problems, but that's a story for another time. At this point, they need to. Right now, they are happy. They are okay.

They are here for each other. They are finally better for each other now.

"You guys won't ever leave me, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[picklesinabottle]

obsessing about michael holing up in a body that is not his own in a dark church and dean folding in on himself every time and neither of them doing anything until prompted with a way for revenge or to get them back

[babycharmander]

(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.

I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).

So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:

"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"

I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:

"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"

It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.

Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...

"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."

He sees himself as a monster.

And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.

"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"

Which... speaking of him and Ford...

Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.

Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)

Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.

And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.

And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.

After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.

He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.

And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.

"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"

I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?

In short,

[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]

[acid-ixx]

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

otherwise, i can't add anymore to my taglist so taglist requests are closed!

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[simp4fictionalmenandjesus]

Imagine platonic yandere batfamily with a 'shallow' reader.

To set the scene, you join the family at 15. You’re old enough to have the capability to take care of yourself, but you’re young enough to want someone to take care of you. (I’m thinking she has a wealthy-ish background, not socialite level, but she’s be the richest kid at Gotham high school (public school).) You’re the result of one of Brucie Wayne’s many love affairs that somehow slipped under the radar.

your mother was a more of a logical person, raising you to follow your brain more instead of your heart. But she still taught you to be empathetic. Unfortunately, she dies in a car accident.

Your picked up by the Wayne’s and there’s immediately hostility between you and your new family. On the background check the bats had done, most evidence was pointing to you being a shallow teenage girl.

It didn’t help that the first thing you did upon arriving to the manor was force everyone into a selfie on Snapchat. Damian had to be held back from stabbing you.

The next thing you did was ask about your allowance, and then proceed to squeal once you were handed a black card by Bruce.

Once you excitedly left to your new room, Dick reminded everyone that people grieve in their own ways.

Family dinner was painfully awkward that night. There was no way that the Wayne’s would talk to you about any bat related activities, and when Bruce tried to ask you about your hobbies, you went on a 30 minute rant about designer products.

It was like having one of Bruce’s suitors constantly around.

Everything about you was shrill, high-pitched, loud and out of touch.

It’s your lack of grief thay really gets them. At your mother’s funeral, you didn’t even shed a tear. Your speech was cantered around how your mother had accomplished a lot, but it came off more as an employee describing a boss than a daughter reminiscing over her mother. When Bruce had softly asked you if you wanted your mother buried or cremated you shrugged your shoulders. “Do whatever, I don’t care.”

Now, your family is convinced that you’re a sociopathic stereotypical mean girl.

You can’t really blame them for thinking that as how would they know about the silent tears you shed every night. Keeping a front up was taking its toll on you, and even your usual coping habit of shopping wasn’t helping you feel better as with every item you add to cart you stop yourself from finding your mother to ask for her opinion on it.

After you fall asleep in tears, you’ll wake up and force yourself to forget.

———————

(Also reader’s speech at her mother’s funeral isn’t that heartfelt because she doesn’t want to share her personal memories with a room of people who she barely knows. Those are her memories. And the idc reply to whether the body is cremated or buried is genuine, to her the body isn’t her mother anymore so whatever happens to it doesn’t matter. She’s more concerned about keeping her mother’s belongings in good shape.)

———————-

A couple of years pass and you’re graduating high school. Your grades are average and you apply for a biology degree in Metropolis University. You’re not ashamed to admit that the power of nepotism definitely helped you in.

You look in the crowd for any sign of your family, and wave happily at Alfred. Do you care that no one else showed up? Not really. You didn’t need to be love. You loved yourself to make up for any of the love you lacked.

Sure, in your first year at Wayne Manor you were upset at the fact that you were never invited to things unless they were public events. But you couldn’t really complain about it, because when you did throw a tantrum and got your way, Bruce invited you to movie night which was painfully awkward as you sat on a lone arm chair while everyone else snuggled together. And the whole night you for side eyed by everyone.

The next family movie night you were invited to, everyone cancelled.

You suppose that the Wayne's and you were too different to get along.

After attending a week long spree of parties, going on a grad trip with your friend group to Ibiza, you came home to a practically empty mansion. Alfred was the only one there.

You appreciated the butler, he was the closest thing you had to a father. He hugged you tightly, before he dropped you off at the airport to fly to metropolis.

-------------------------------------

A year passes, you show up to the Wayne Manor at Alfred's request. Everyone is there.

And everyone is really nice.

Huh.

---------

Yea im turning this idea into a proper fic but I'll probably make shallow reader way cyuntier.

[fadeintosatoru]

Satoru is soooo friends to lover

tysm for the support, i want to start writing other characters so lmk who i should write! ps. ignore any typos :/

───────────୨ৎ───────────

just think about it, that disgusting slow burn, like as you gradually grow with him. he knows you like the back of hand, he knows you.

he knows when youre upset, or when youre uncomfortable because you bite the inside of your cheek, and your eyebrows slightly furrow.

and he knows when he should step up and back down. He'll let you have your space if you ask for it but he also knows you need someone to lean on, and if thats hititng his chest angrily, crying on his shoulder, ranting your ass off, hell be there.

Satoru took a liking to you because, for once in his life, someone saw him. Not the prodigy, not the heir to the Gojo legacy—just Satoru, your best friend.

you never treated him any differently, even when everyone else put him on a pedestal. You were the one person who kept him grounded, and he didn’t even realize when he started falling for you.

maybe it was the way you’d laugh at his stupid jokes, or the way you’d roll your eyes at his antics but still always have his back. Maybe it was the way you challenged him, called him out when no one else dared to. Or maybe it was just… you.

and how could you not fall for him, too? He’s Satoru, your best friend who defends you no matter what, who lets you see parts of him no one else does. The one who’d do anything for you—even if you told him to jump off a cliff, he’d probably ask, “How high?”

but there’s always been this line between you, this unspoken agreement to keep things platonic. Until… it starts to crack.

it starts with the little things—like the way his jaw tightens when you talk about your dates, or how he goes suspiciously quiet when you get dolled up for some guy he already knows is a waste of your time. He hates seeing you walk out the door, knowing the night will only end with you disappointed yet again.

and when you come storming back, heels in hand, muttering, “You would not believe the nerve this guy had,” Gojo’s sitting on the couch, grinning like he knew it all along. Of course he did. The guy probably asked to split the bill or talked about himself the whole night. Gojo always hated the way these guys never saw you the way he did.

because if you were on a date with him, you wouldn’t need to bring a purse. He wouldn’t even let you think about paying. He’d take care of everything, because he’s just that guy.

but he knows he can’t—he shouldn’t. It’s a line he’s not supposed to cross, no matter how badly he wants to.

and yet… he catches himself thinking about the way your eyes light up when you look at him. Those big, doe eyes that make his heart stutter in his chest.

he hates when you’re mad at him, but at the same time, you look so cute when you’re all fired up that he can’t help but push your buttons, just to see you pout.

he'll beg for your forgiveness afterward, of course, but there’s a part of him that loves how your attention is all on him, even if it’s because you’re annoyed.

his feelings are a fragile balance, always sitting just at the edge of his tongue.

it only took one moment—one crack—and it all spilled out. He told you everything. How much you mean to him, how the thought of a life without you is unbearable.

and now that you’re officially his girlfriend, it’s like a dam has broken. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, like he needs you to fill his lungs, his thoughts, his everything. He needs you bad.

and, it’s no surprise to anyone—not Shoko, not Geto, not Nanami. They all saw it coming from a mile away. Everyone knew. Everyone but you.

[teojira]

[Click Click Boom] [Shadow x Reader short stories]

Summary: You're set to be Shadow's companion to keep an eye on him and keep him in line, a courtesy from the goverment for him saving the world with Sonic and the others.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Can be read as platonic or romantic! Shadow/reader romance is implied though! You're human in this, age is vague but you're meant to be in your 20s.

Disclaimer: Shadow is an adult, and as for the furry debate, he's literally an adult who can consent and is sentient, don't like? Don't read!

A/N: I've literally been obsessed with this fucker since I was a literal child and it's the first time I've written for him!! The trailer yas me going insane. This is written well before the movie has come out, literally all I got to work with is Shadow in the trailer and the bits and pieces of info I psychoanalized so I don't wanna hear shit about it not being accurate tbh, this is self indulgent!!

Shadow isn't the worst task you've been assigned, you both are more akin to awkward roommates more than anything.

I'm talking randomly lingering in the corners of the room, his bright red eyes glowing and they always seemed to be locked right onto you.

You screamed the first dozen times, but now you just glare at the black hedgehog and spit out a "fuck you." and go about your business.

He'll never admit that it brings him infinite amusement, it's hard to tell, but the huff he lets out is evidence enough.

Shadow will never admit he cares for you, he loses everyone he cares for, and humans don't live that long. It's terrifying to think about how much he's come to like you.

He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

You're sitting down at the dinner table, typing away on your laptop, editing the mission report from the other day when Shadow makes his way towards you. Sending him a nod in his direction, you don't think of anything when he moves in close.

A huge slam takes you off guard though, jumping damn near out of your skin as you twist your head to look at him.

"What the fuck-"

"Take it."

It's one of Shadow's guns, his emblem being engraved along the stock.

"What? No, I have guns." You raise an eyebrow at the hog, his face is perfectly still, eyes locking onto yours as he waits for you to grab the heckler.

"Your guns are worthless, you need something better."

"Well excuse me, I so happen to like my guns." You try and joke back, but the offense is taken.

Shadow rolls his eyes so hard you're scared that he's gonna blind himself. Jutting his chin towards the table once more to get your focus back onto it.

"If you have one of mine, I know you're safe." He doesn't elaborate. Not that he needs to.

"...Thank you, Shad."

All you get is a grunt in response, and he's on his way back to his room.

Gingerly picking up the weapon, you take in how pristine it is, a thumb caressing your small initials that you missed on the other side of the stock.

With Shadow saving the world, the reeking of havoc makes it to where he's limited to what he is allowed to do in the public eye.

Not that he listens, he isn't supposed to be out after curfew. But to be fair, it is extremely hard to keep a teleporting hedgehog confined to a meager two-story house.

You can hear him teleport above you, he's on the roofs of the nearby building, leering down at you.

It was a small errand you were on, simply stocking up on the essentials for the house.

Namely, snacks for Shadow, he doesn't ask for a lot other than coffee beans and Doritos.

You are choosing to ignore the fact that he eats the coffee beans straight up, the crunch echoes through your head and it sends a shudder down your spine.

He was adamant against you leaving the house this late, standing in front of the front door.

"No."

"Fuck you mean no?"

"I said no."

"....I don't listen to men."

And you weaved around him to leave the house, ignoring his shout of disapproval.

That leads you both to here now, you pretending you don't see him trailing you from the rooftops as you walk your way back home from the small shopping center.

You feign surprise when he opens the house door for you, begrudgingly sticking a hand out to help you with your bags.

"Oh! Thank you my knight in shining armor~"

"Shut it."

He's never told you his birthday, which you can understand, living for 50 years and not having your family around must be hard. No matter how he may fake that it doesn't bother him.

That doesn't stop you, not in the slightest really. You damn near kick him out of the house for the day, shoving him over to Tom and Maddie's house so he can be with the others. Despite how much he protested.

"I don't want to go over there. Not with that blue fake."

"You don't really have a choice bub, I need you out of the house."

"I don't understand why I have to-"

"Keep arguing with me and I will make it a point to not buy you shit next grocery trip."

It's an empty threat, but he grunts nonetheless.

"...."

"That's what I thought."

When he finally gets home from his long and admittedly overstimulating day with the Wachowskis, he's ready to recharge in his room.

He teleports through the house door, sighing and rubbing at his temples as he moves to kick off his shoes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd chastise him for not doing so.

Something about tracking dirt and rocket fuel into the carpet.

Whatever.

After trying to massage his brain through his fur, he opens his eyes up to see a colorful banner strung across the mantle.

'Happy birthday!' It screams, in its disgustingly neon color palette.

Shadow wracks his brain for any information of it being your birthday, he knows for a fact it isn't today. A friend you're throwing a party for? Well, that makes no sense, he knows very well you don't have many friends, especially any that you'd invite your house up for.

You're antisocial to a fault, not that he has absolutely any room to talk.

He hears you before he sees you, turning the corner into the living room, carrying some balloons in your hands. A stupid little party hat on your head.

"Shadow! What are you doing back so early?"

Kicking off the last shoe, he stands at his full height, staring into your eyes with a shrug.

"I wasn't aware I had a time."

"....fair enough, anyways, fuck, goddamnit. Stay here. Okay?"

And you're off, running into the kitchen, his ears flick at the slamming of the fridge door, followed by the cabinets being no doubt, hip nudging it shut way too forcefully.

He's awkwardly standing there still until you yell for him to come in.

Shadow has half a mind to ignore you and go into his room, but curiosity kills the cat, so he takes in a deep breath and makes his way to you.

He finds you sitting at the little kitchenette, a nervous smile spread across your lips as you gesture to the plate in front of you.

The smell is apparent, it's a coffee cupcake.

The hedgehog feels his ears flick again, staring down at the desert, then trailing his eyes back to meet your own. Wordlessly asking you what was going on.

"You've never told me your birthday, but it's been a year since you've been here, with me. After the whole trying to destroy the world shit. So since you won't tell me, we can kinda treat this as it?" You keep rambling, eyes flitting around the room, very clearly nervous as to his reaction.

Shadow doesn't say anything, or move even. Just staring down at the cupcake.

It looks amateurish, the frosting is lopsided, and the toppings on it look messy. But you made it for him. You even added a big black "1" candle in the center.

He doesn't know what to say, he can feel heat rush through his body, rushing to his ears and his face, and his fur feels constricting.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

You go to open your mouth again, no doubt to apologize, but he beats you to it.

Moving to scoop up the treat, he gently sniffs it before taking a cautionary bite.

A beat passes between the two of you.

"...it's good."

Shadow does his best to ignore the smile that blooms across your face, not wanting to remember just how pretty he finds you like this.

Disgusting.

Shadow doesn't like touch, you know it, he knows it, and everyone knows it. He's threatened to break Sonic's wrist for even so much as patting the older hedgehog on the back. Baring his sharper fangs and hissing out to not touch him ever.

He avoids group hugs from Team Sonic, avoids Tom and Maddie like the plague, dodging every invitation to be a part of the family, it makes him sick to think about it.

With you, it's a little different.

You're not like them, you don't push him to change, you don't have a problem with how closed off he is, giving him space, never once pushing his very strict boundaries.

Something churns in his chest at the sound of you crying in your room, you probably think you're being incognito, holding a pillow to your face to drown out your sobs.

The internal debate is heavy, Shadow used to be able to comfort, to provide warmth, but he hasn't done so in years. Flashes of memories where he would comfort Maria on her bad health days, letting her run her fingers over his quills, to lend an ear to Gerald when he was frustrated about treatments not working.

It's not to say he is replacing you in their place, but it's scary. To open himself up like that again. He can feel his anxiety rising as he goes over the pros and cons of crossing this line. Eyes squeeze shut forcefully as he tells himself he doesn't care about you, that you're an adult, and you don't need to be babied.

His ears twitch when a pathetic little whimper drops from your lips, and his resolve cracks.

You don't look up when he makes his way in, too stuck in your bubble.

Startling a little when two, much stronger and larger hands grab at your own, peeling them away from the pillow. Your puffy bloodshot eyes looking at the hedgehog in front of you, his face set as it usually is, stoic. But his eyes are different, and his body language is different, when has he ever looked at you so softly? It's jarring.

Oh, he's moving closer. Okay. Weird.

"Shadow? Uh, I'm ok-"

You try and lie, it's a pitiful attempt. Your voice is scratchy and the tear tracks down your cheeks aren't helping your plight.

"No, you're not."

He shuts you down immediately, hands sliding up your arms to drag you into him.

The instant your bodies touch, you feel a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again.

Shadow has you resting against him, your head resting on him as he wraps himself loosely in your arms, giving you the space to move away if you so choose.

It's the first time he's allowed you to hug him, the first time he's ever initiated contact with someone in years. A fact that you both are well aware of.

A sob works its way up your throat, immediately tightening your grip on the hedgehog, curling into him as you shake.

Shadow doesn't say anything, doesn't make fun of you as snot pours from your nose, doesn't point out that your mascara and eyeliner are getting everywhere, just sits there and lets you cling onto him like he's your only lifeline.

He thinks that this is okay, he's strong enough for you both, and you don't need to worry when he's here.

[kennahjune]

ALRIGHT BUT

I’ve been having flustered Steve thoughts.

The Party has NEVER seen Steve flustered. Steve’s always the one flirting and no one ever flirts back anymore so Steve’s never actually flustered.

But then Eddie Munson comes slithering along and he flirts with everyone just cause he can but nobody’s flustered by his attempts because he’s not trying to actually fluster them.

But for some reason he really flusters Steve.

Eddie uses this to his advantage and actually puts forth effort when he flirts with Steve.

Steve is flustered, bashful, embarrassed. He’s twirling his hair and giggling and he does this thing where he taps his fingernails on his front teeth when he gets distracted.

The Party was NEVER seen Steve like this.

Not even Nancy when they were dating.

Steve has described what he was like when he was flustered to them, calling himself stupid and saying he acted like an idiot to try and get them to just lay off.

All anyone sees is an absolute sweetheart.

Steve blushes really bright, starting with his ears and it just travels down from there. And also he’s really bad at hiding his smiles and he smiles so BIG when Eddie flirts with him. Like you can see every tooth and his eyes crinkle so much they basically close and his nose scrunches up.

And Eddie fucking THRIVES in it.

Because NO ONE else gets Steve like that.

Eddie’s witnessed Steve flirting with the girls of Hawkins. Has seen them all flirt back with varying degrees of bluntness.

None of them have gotten Steve nearly half as flustered as Eddie has.

UNTIL.

Eddie has Steve come over to the trailer to hang out. Steve by some turn of events ends up cooking and making grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Wayne comes home right as Steve is playing everything and Steve is DISTRAUGHT. Like “no Wayne it’s alright, really. I can make you some to it’s ok I like cooking you’re really doing me a favor.”

So Steve makes Wayne a grilled cheese to and refuses to let Eddie eat until they can eat together.

So they’re all sitting and then they start eating. And obviously it was a damn good grilled cheese— Eddie knew Steve could cook but good GOD.

And then Wayne puts his grilled cheese down, looks between Steve and Eddie, and tells Eddie “If you don’t marry ‘im I’m adoptin ‘im.”

And Steve BEAMS.

It’s that same smile he gets when Eddie flirts with him and Eddie is only somewhat livid.

Cause he totally gets the rush of having Wayne compliment you for the first time. He’s just such an honest man.

And it goes from there that the only people who can fluster Steve are Eddie and Wayne (Eddie romantically and Wayne platonic-fatherly).

They both go out of their way to compliment him constantly just to see him smile like that :)))

Aaahhhhh this makes me so happy!!!!