#or stabbed with his scissors for fun

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Be My Wife: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A “friend” freaks out when you split a Coke with Eddie the Freak.

Warnings: references to A Clockwork Orange, bullying, STI/STD mention, backwash drinking

A/N: So… I know this isn’t a Christmas fic. But I wrote this because I had those times in my youth where someone spread horrid rumors about either me or my friends, and I had to make those split second decisions to determine my loyalty. I always try to be loyal as best I can.

Thank you to @writhingg for giving the green light on this fic. And big thanks to @rxqueenotd and @melodymunson as well. And big thanks to viewers like you. Thank you. ❤️

Resources: @strangergraphics-archive for the dividers.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @melodymunson @twihard28

“Hey droogie, can I have a sip of your Coke?”

You looked up from where you were perched on the pony wall by the Seven Eleven bike rack. You had been chatting with a classmate, Chessie Hagar, about purchasing a purse from her mother’s Avon Colorworks catalog. It was a new collection for the year 1977. Said eye catching magazine with its spread of rainbow themed products was currently held between the two of you, and the pages began to rattle as Chessie shook in fear upon hearing the deep voice.

A flutter-smack sounded from the girl dropping the catalog when Eddie The Freak approached. His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest. As one of the middle schoolers who had been blessed with a growth spurt, his lanky height, shredded second hand clothes, and shaved head often made those in your grade— and some of those above— piss their pants.

You alone did not fear him.

The Fates had elected to weave you both in a tangled web of coincidences: you had been his project partner in every shared class since you started at Hawkins Middle School together, and you just so happened to live in the same neighborhood on occasion. The distance from Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home to yours was but a hop skip and a jump. Eddie used to ding dong ditch your house when he was six, until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.

To any other rando, he was an unstable pariah. But to you, he was just Eddie Munson— the cute boy next door who sometimes ate at your place. And you had become his droog after spending winter 1972 sneaking into the Hawk Theater, and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.

Without thinking, you handed the soft drink over. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the Coke out of your grip and went for a swig, with plush pink lips wrapping around the transparent jade glass of the lip and neck. His protruding Adam’s apple was bobbing with the rhythmic gulping, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Thanks.” He belched out.

“You said a sip, not half the goddamn bottle!” You whined.

Eddie grinned sheepishly and backwashed a good mouthful. Giving a half assed apology and a promise to pay you back mumbled under his breath, he handed the bottle back.

“Still up for doing last minute project prep?” You asked, swirling the leftovers he’d saved for you.

“Nah, let’s take a break from the train wreck brothers. Catch you tomorrow, though?” He said, scratching a blackhead off his nose and snorting a bit, “I had an idea for the oral report that might earn us a little extra credit. Think you can mimic a British accent?”

“Eh. Can’t do an accent without sounding like fucking Alex DeLarge.” You groused.

“We can work on that. Leave your milk-plus at home, though. Don’t want me own droog reenacting some Roman ultra violence on me.”

“Just don’t go popping out from behind your curtains at me again, that’s a good way to get stabbed in the neck with my mom’s kitchen scissors.” You snorted.

“Ahhh, the droog’s no fun. I guess I can tone down the surprise pop ups, though. If you insist. Catch you later?” Eddie said, waving.

“Later. Peace out, man.”

Chessie let out a shaky, sobbing exhale when you made to drink the dregs of your soda, and you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Whassamatter?” You asked.

“Are you nuts?! You just shared your drink with the freak!” She blurted out.

… since when the hell was sharing with Eddie a crime?

“Yeah, so? It’s hot out. He looked thirsty.” You said.

“Did you seriously forget everything we’ve heard about him?!” She whisper-screamed, “Don’t you care what everyone talks about?!”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone talked about Eddie. If you hadn’t heard at least one rumor from a faceless student whenever he walked by, you were either stupid or living under a rock. They said he was a bad boy— yes, even with a full vocabulary of slurs and insults available, they still called him a bad boy. Like if he was still in diapers drawing with crayon on the wall, and needed a spanking.

Depending on who you asked, Eddie either did or sold drugs, it was never clear which. Some of the other trailer park kids said he was a mean scrapper when he went to his uncle’s on alternate weeks. Women’s restroom lore stated that he carried a switchblade in the back pocket of his Wrangler jeans, and that he used it to torture animals for his Satanic rituals.

A million and one things were said about him on the daily, but you knew none of them were true in the slightest. None of the talk deterred you from spending time with him. Sometimes he came to your house, more often than not you went to his.

Every other day found the two of you parked in front of his mom’s turntable, jamming to Deep Purple and putting together an elaborate poster board with some spray painted fake leaves made into laurel crowns, along with a block of text about your chosen co-emperor of the early Roman Empire.

You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble, but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.

“As much as I love a good sex party on paper, you just know that’s what everyone else is gonna write about. Let’s write about this nut job Caracalla instead! Dude killed his brother in the arms of his mother, and struck his name from the record. That’s like, the most metal shit ever! Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide. Apparently there’s a whole list of technical terms for when you kill a family member.”

“… what’s the rumor mill gotta do with my Coke?” You deadpanned.

“If you drink after him, you’re gonna get mono like Cindy! You gotta throw it out!”

Cindy Bishop in your science class had told everyone that had functional ears— swearing up and down on her life— that Eddie Munson had kissed her and given her mononucleosis. A dreaded affliction whose nickname to you sounded like one of the variations of sound formats for any sort of audio.

“Mono…?”

“Yes! Or the syph!”

You knew Eddie had to have heard Chessie’s vitriol. Turning around, you could see him staring at the two of you from across the parking lot, one leg over his bike. There was a stinging look of betrayal on his face. Telltale signs of a wet cherry nose and shameful red cheeks gave away his mistrust; as if he was expecting you to do as your friend told, and throw the bottle he drank from in the trash.

His imaginary affliction was just that: imaginary. You knew that to be gospel.

The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well. Eddie had come running to your house just to brag that he’d finally gotten his first kiss, and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.

Just learning about the simple kiss had pissed you off, because the closest you’d ever gotten to kissing Eddie was sharing the same fork whenever you both roasted Vienna sausages on the gas burner in his kitchen. Eddie hadn’t been sick when Cindy stayed home, he came faithfully to school to trap you on the playground and speculate about the thousand and one hidden meanings behind the kiss.

With all the excitement, he never noticed the smallest details like you did. One of the guys in your PE class had been sent home with a rash and a high fever, and it was only a month after Cindy was rumored to have also kissed the collapsed boy that she got sick. You had always shared cups, utensils, and other things requiring mouth use with Eddie and had been fine. Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.

But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono. They’d always redirect every disease outbreak to the poor loser who split time between Cherry Street and Forest Hills Trailer Park. The same poor loser who had the misfortune of wasting his first kiss with Cindy; a girl who frenched behind the portable classrooms with anything that had a pulse. People could be so blind and stupid, they failed to notice the sickness timelines were not matching up.

No one deserved their first anything to be with Cindy. Not with the way she stabbed people in the back.

You took a long, hard pause as you stared into Eddie’s wet brown eyes. He was asking you a silent question you already knew the answer to: were you a stinking traitorous droog, or a loyal one? Were you, his one friend in the entire world, going to stand against him?

Without saying a word, you looked at Chessie, then looked back again at Eddie.

In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.

You lathed at the lip of the bottle and stuck your tongue down the neck, and shotgunned all of Eddie’s backwash.

Chessie’s mouth dropped open as she began to gag, and Eddie opened his mouth in an obnoxious and breathless laugh as you chugged the entirety of his germs. The carbonation caught up to you, so you let a belch rip before turning back around to face him.

“I GOT YOUR MONO NOW, MUNSON!” You screamed out to him, “NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!”

“IS THAT HOW IT WORKS, DROOGIE?” He shouted back, a shit eating grin stretched across his face, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KNOW BEFORE I TOOK A SWIG, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE I GOT YOU A RING POP FIRST!”

“IT'S GODDAMN ROMAN CONFARREATIO LAWS, EDDIE! YOU GAVE ME MONO INSTEAD OF SPELT BREAD, NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!” You joked.

You noticed from the big, smart ass grin that he was about to do something outrageous, and your heart began to sing. He immediately got to his knee on the asphalt, everyone in the Seven Eleven parking lot watching as he began to scream like an orator in the colosseum. He used your full government name and everything when he called out to the small parking lot audience.

“HEAR ME, CITIZENS OF HAWKINS! I AM BUT A VESSEL FOR THE GODS, A BEARER, A MESSENGER OF THAT MOST HOLY WORD FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN, AND THUS OUR MARRIAGE BETWEEN EMPEROR AND DROOG IS SOLEMNIZED-…!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, FREAK!” Someone called out, immediately flinching back when Eddie rounded on him.

“THE GODS. HAVE. SPOKEN!” Eddie screeched, a glob of spit flying out of his mouth and onto the hot asphalt.

He was wide eyed. Deranged. Eddie lifted up the hem of his denim vest and held it out and to the side, to look like wings unfurling, screaming to the heavens as you began howling with him.

“YEAH!” You screamed out, raising your bottle and shouting every bit of nonsense you could think of, “GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!”

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!”

You looked at Chessie, who looked as if she was going to throw up or scream. It wasn’t immediately clear which. Instead of ending the joke, you grinned. Shrugged. The glossy magazine paper pages of the forgotten Avon Colorworks catalog ripped under the tread of your shoes when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.

“Yum.” You gushed, licking your lips and changing your cadence to the unhinged Kubrick Cockney, “Them’s tasty cooties, they are, brother sir!”

“Yeah? Them false cytomegalovirus germs are what taste good to ya, droog?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and putting on his own terrible accent.

“That they are, sir, that’s what gives all me food and drink that plus flavor.” You grinned.

The two of you cackled, thoroughly enjoying throwing out random quotes and various insanities that to the normal person would put them off of your insanity and edge-lord humor. Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike, but you didn’t care. You could live without a selection of eyeshadows, a rainbow tote purse, and all of your false friends if the choice came down to choosing them, or Eddie.

“Wanna go into the gas station and split another bottle of mono before we blow this joint?” You asked.

His grin could have rivaled that of Malcolm McDowell.

“Now, how can I say no to my new wife?” He grinned, holding out his arm for you to take, “But I am a man of my word, so you’re getting a new Coke, plus that Ring Pop so’s we can make this thing official.”

“Spare no expense, huh?” You grinned, and he pulled you in closer. Both of your hips knocking together.

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.

You smiled at him, nudging one another with your bodies all the way into the gas station, until he pulled you in for another sloppy kiss in the middle of the snack aisle.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 5 Alfie Solomons

There were accidents at the bakery, real accidents, not at all planned and which bothered Alfie a lot, because it disrupted production and some of his men could be injured.

Bur most of the time, it wasn't that serious. Y/N never heard about it if she wasn't there. Even if he didn't hide anything from her, her husband didn't see the point in worrying her unnecessarily.

It was obvious that there had been a small fire in the morning when Y/N arrived, but obviously nothing too serious, since the activity had not stopped.

However, she could read a certain fear in Ollie's eyes when she greeted him.

"Mrs. Solomons ! I didn't know you were coming today !"

"Normally I was not, but I was bored and Alfie forgot his scarf again."

"I… I can take it to him, Madam ! He wouldn't want you to bother over such a small thing !"

"I don't mind." Y/N said suspiciously. "I'm already here anyway."

"Yes, but… The boss is out !"

"Ismael told me he was here."

"I mean… He's here, but he's in a meeting, he said to say he wasn't here, that he shouldn't be disturbed, even by his lovely wife. I'm really sorry. He's very busy, he doesn't even know if he'll be able to come home tonight and… Madam Solomons, no, please !"

She didn't listen to him, walking past him without him really trying to stop her. The poor boy knew it was useless, and that Alfie wouldn't like him touching his wife.

Opening the door, she wasn't surprised to find that there was no appointment.

On the other hand, she stared at the man sitting at the desk with some perplexity.

The clothes were Alfie's. The posture, the face, the hair.

But something was missing, something essential.

"Treacle, I can explain."

"Why ?"

"I'll explain, wait."

"Alfie, why ?"

"There was a lil problem, I wanted to help put out the fire and… I know, everyone would prefer that half of my face was hidden, me the first. But it will grow back ! Don't panic, love."

In addition to his right hand covered in a bandage following a slight burn, Alfie's beard had caught fire, and despite his quick reaction to splash himself with water, the result was not enough to keep the hair that remained without looking ridiculous.

Plus, the stupid doctor who came for the others insisted on examining him, and for that he had to shave it all off.

"I look like a baby." he mumbled, touching his chin. "A big ugly baby."

"You're not ugly."

"A real monster. I saw your reaction, you hate it, and I don't blame you. I hate it too. How horrible."

"Oh, shut up, you big baby." Y/N sighed, coming to sit on his lap, fascinated by this new face. "I don't hate it, I was surprised. You're very handsome."

"Hmm. I won't stay like this, even if you beg me. Don't beg me, treacle."

"No. I prefer my husband the way I know him. I don't think I've ever imagined you without a beard. You look like another man, a disguise. Oh ! You could do the same haircut as my brothers, that would be fun ! Finn and the kids want to celebrate this holiday where everyone dresses up."

"If any of your brothers come near me with scissors, I'll rip them off and stab them in the eye."

No doubt he could have continued to threaten the Shelbys and growl, but when she kissed him, on the mouth and all the rest of that unfamiliar skin, he froze, enjoying the sensation.

No one touched his hair, but he agreed to come to the little party, both delighted and annoyed by his in-laws who stared at him with the same fascination as their sister. But it was hard to tell if it was because of the lack of a beard, or because he was wearing a tuxedo.

After Polly and Ada whispered to Y/N that her husband was quite handsome, he decided that the others were staring because they were jealous and he had a rather good night. He then spent the rest of the month waiting for his beard to grow back regardless.

________________________________

(Alfie at the party)

[freyaphoria]

freyaaaaaaa, can you write something about yandere mingi tho i really cant see him as yandere haha.

fun fact me and mingi actually share the same birthday so this could be my birthday present!

a/n: Firstly, happy birthday!!! You were born on the same day!?!?!?! Wow, congratulations! I was also bragging about that I was born 2 days before Jongho loll but you, same day!?!?!?. Secondly, I can't see mingi as yandere either. I wrote this but he doesn't sound like yandere at all. Anyways, I hope you like it though! Love u!♡ AND THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! IS THIS REAL?

Happy Birthday to Us

tw: yan!mingi, mingi is delusional, kidnapping, stalking, chloroform use, fire mentioned, scissors mentioned, happy birthday mingi!!!!♡

wc: 2230

taglist: @aim-blossom

The entire city was slowly getting ready to fall asleep. The lights were off in most houses, enveloped in the peace of silence. But the same could not be said for you.

It was so hot that even though if all the windows of your house are open, you were still sweating and you were having a hard time falling asleep because of that.

You didn't know when you fell asleep, but you woke up with a loud bang coming from inside. You waited to hear a voice again so that you could really hear the sound and understand that you weren't still dreaming.

A walking sound

Someone was walking inside your house right now.

None of your friends had a spare key and your family lives far from your house; so it was impossible for someone you knew to enter your house.

As your heart started to beat faster, the first thing you thought of was calling the police from your phone. With a trembling hand, you looked for the phone you always put on charge on your nightstand before going to sleep.

You couldn't find it. Your phone was gone.

You were sure you had plugged it into the charger next to you, but it wasn't there right now. The "thief" must have entered your room and taken your phone while you were asleep. You cursed yourself for being such a deep sleeper.

If the thief entered your room, took your phone and didn’t do anything to you, then he had no intention of killing you. So you figured that if you stayed quiet and still, he would steal what he was going to steal and get the hell out of your house without hurting you. But what if he changed his mind and wanted to kill you before he left the house? What if he entered your room again and this time saw that you were awake and attacked you?

You weren’t thinking straight because of the adrenaline. For a moment, you considered yelling out your window to the neighbors and telling them to call the police. But the thief could kill you before the police arrived, so you ruled that idea out. You could have texted your friends to call the police on your computer. If only you hadn’t left your computer in the living room last night. Shit, you had no way of communicating with the outside world right now.

You looked for a hard object to defend yourself if he came to your room again but couldn't find anything except your dull scissors, and you made a mental note that if you survived tonight, you would buy something hard instead of a stuffed animal for your room.

With your shaking hands, your increasing heartbeat, and your eyes filled with tears, you listened to the sounds coming from inside but you couldn't hear a sound for a while. You pressed your ear to the door to hear better.

A crackling sound broke the silence from somewhere not too close to your room, from your kitchen, probably. It sounded like a lighter being lit. When the crackling sound came a few more times, you were sure that the person was trying to light the lighter. Was he going to burn your house down? You couldn't let him burn you alive here; you would rather the thief stab you to death than burn you alive. When the crackling sound came again, you wanted to run out of the house in panic. You thought that if you ran fast enough, you would reach the front door and throw yourself into the street, and then you would run too fast so that he wouldn't be able to see you in the already dark streets. You didn't want to burn to death here.

You opened the door to your room very slowly, making sure not to be heard. When you heard a voice from the kitchen while peeking into the hallway from your room, you held the scissors in your hand tighter. He could start a fire at any moment and you wouldn't be able to leave the house, so you had to be fast; as you quickly passed the hallway, you looked at your living room on your left. Your TV and computer were just as you left them. Why? Why hadn't he taken anything?

As you approached the entrance next to the kitchen, you started to shake incredibly. Your breathing became irregular and your head was spinning, but you were trying to pull yourself together.

When you came to your kitchen door, you froze. It was pitch black inside, but a small orange light filled the room. He would really burn your house down.

You panicked and started running towards the door. He must have heard you right now. When you reach the front door, your hands were shaking so much that you couldn't open the locks on your door. What kind of thief locks the door after entering a house?

"Love? Where are you going?"

You froze.

Everything froze.

It was like the world stopped spinning. You were really going to die.

Cold sweat started to run down your back. You turned around and looked at who he was. You were going to die, but you at least had the right to see who your killer was, right?

You looked at his face carefully but you didn't know him. He wasn't someone you knew. He was tall and had sharp features. If you weren't about to die and saw him on the street, you would probably find him very attractive. Hey, look on the bright side. At least your killer was handsome.

"Why are you so scared, Love. It's me. Mingi." You wondered if he would get mad at you if you told him that this was the first time you saw him and you didn't know him. "I-I don't know you." He didn't hear you. "Oh wait, I have a surprise for you." He ran to the kitchen as if he had remembered something. You wanted to move, but your legs wouldn't move.

He was approaching you with a birthday cake in his hand, it had lots of candles on it. Ah, that explained the sound of a lighter coming from the kitchen.

“Happy birthday!” Yes, your birthday. Tomorrow was your birthday. So since it was past 12, today was your birthday. At that moment, you couldn't think of being surprised that he knew your birthday.

You held up the scissors as he continued to approach you. “Stay away from me!” You couldn’t really hurt anyone, but you tried to look scary. You probably looked like a kitten, hissing and arching her back right now.

“The candles are melting. We should make a wish and blow it-” “Please let me go!” He looked up at you slowly, his head tilting to the right. “Let you go? But we haven’t celebrated our birthday yet?” Half of the candles on the cake had melted and the candle wax was leaking onto the cake. You were leaned against the door behind you as he tried to pull the cake closer to you. “I-I don’t want to…” your voice sounded weak and shaky. He started singing as if he hadn’t heard you, slowly moving the cake from side to side, acting like he was celebrating a very happy birthday.

"Happy birthday to us, happy birthday to us, happy birthday to my dear love and me, happy birthday to us!"

What did he mean us? Was it his birthday too?

"We should make a wish before we blow the candles." He looked very happy, he smiled at you with squinted eyes. You had just managed to come to your senses from the absurdity and shock of what had happened and you took a step to the right, escaping the area he had cornered you in. Now, you were halfway to the entrance of the house; this time Mingi was closer to the door and you didn't have much of a chance to get out of the house anymore.

"Why are you doing this?!" He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do you mean why am I doing this? Because today is both our birthdays. It's also the day you finally welcome me into your home! We should have celebrated with a cake, right?"

Today was very special for Mingi. He was finally able to meet his love face to face without a window in front of him or having to hide behind trees, whom he had been stalking for years and dreaming about every day, every second. Also, it was the first time he celebrated his birthday in his life. He had been planning this day for months. He even prepared the first sentences he would say when he saw you and you ran into his arms.

He had been watching you for so long without you knowing that he had convinced himself that you were made for each other. It couldn't be a coincidence that you were both born on the same day; you were definitely made for each other. He was so absorbed in you that he even thought that you loved him, that you were aware that he was stalking you, but that you couldn't go and talk to him because you were too shy.

"No, I mean, why did you enter my house! And how did you enter!?" Mingi giggled. The candles on the cake had now completely melted and gone out. "You're so cute and stupid when you're scared. Of course I came to take you to our new home. And you left the windows open, so didn't you invite me?"What? What was he talking about?

"I didn't invite you!"

The cake in Mingi's hand suddenly fell to the ground. Its icing scattered in different directions. "You didn't invite me? Don't be ridiculous. Then why else did you sleep with your windows open! You invited me! You wanted me to break into your house and finally take you to our new house so we could live happily ever after!" He was acting crazy. You were startled by his sudden shout. "Look, our candles went out and the cake is ruined because of you. But don't worry, wait! I still have a surprise for you!" His mood changed instantly, he cheered up and rummaged through his bag that was next to the door and that you hadn't noticed before, pulled out a gift package and handed it to you. "Here, my gift for you." It wasn't a very small or very large gift, its shape was rectangular prism and the gift package was carefully wrapped; if he did this, he must have been quite talented.

You definitely didn't want to open the gift. So you didn't take the gift from his hand and gripped your scissors tighter. Could you do it? If you didn't do something right now, you never would. He was saying to take you home. You were afraid that if you were kidnapped, no one could find you.

"Come on Love. We're running out of time." When he brought the gift closer to you, you tried to stab his arm that was holding the gift with the scissors, but of course you failed. His hands were so big that he easily grabbed both of your hands with one hand and stopped you, ripping the scissors from your hands and throwing them somewhere far away. "I knew you would do this. That's why I bought you this gift. Let me open it for you." While he was still holding both of your hands with one hand, he tried to tear open the gift package with his other hand. But when you tried to free your hands from his grip, he pulled you towards him, spun you around, leaned your back against his chest and held you from behind. His arms were around your waist and this time he opened the package with both hands. You were still struggling in his arms, but it was impossible to escape because his arms were tightly gripping you. He was so big and tall that it was impossible for someone as small as you to escape from his grip.

When he finally opened the gift, you saw that it was in a box. It looked like a medicine box. He opened the box and took out a brown bottle. "I knew you would be excited when you saw me, so I got you this gift to relax a little!" Chloroform. You were definitely fucked now.

"No! I don't want it!" You started screaming and struggling in his arms. You were scratching his arms with your nails, making them bleed, but he wasn’t moving at all. After pouring 4-5 drops on the gauze he took out of his pocket, he forcibly brought it to your nose and pressed it. You tried not to breathe, but how long would you hold your breath? You wouldn't last long. With panic, you tried to kick him from behind with your legs, but he was like made of steel and remained still as if it didn’t hurt at all.

“Do you know what I wished for before the candles on our cake went out?” Your head was starting to spin as you smelled the chemical. You couldn’t understand what he was saying. “I wished for us to be together forever. Actually, this isn’t just a wish. We’ll be.” You didn’t pass out right away. Chloroform doesn't make a person pass out instantly like in the movies, and it doesn’t keep you unconscious for hours. So he pressed the cloth against your nose for a while. After breathing in the gauze for about 2-3 minutes, you felt your consciousness slowly fade away and you let yourself fall into his arms.

Mingi finally had you. You would wake up in about 15 minutes, so he had to grab you quickly and get you into his car as soon as possible. He took some duct tape and extra gauzes from his bag and put it on your mouth so that you could breathe the chemical continuously, to keep you unconscious until you get your new home.

He brushed your hair from your face and kissed your forehead. "Everything I do is for us to be happy together. We will always be happy soon. Happy birthday, my most precious."

[rottenpumpkin13]

Continuing the "cocktus" ask.

As if sensing the bullying and the mocking insults whenever people looked at it. The longest cactus just went up and died on its own.

But the other two smaller round ones survive and they're now blooming tiny pretty pink flowers. Unfortunately, the placement of the flowers is on top of their heads. Making them look like... a pair of tits.

"Cactits."

*Angeal, with a visible eye twitch, is arranging his newly-trimmed cactus. Genesis barges in without knocking*

Genesis: My dear friend, do you have a stapler I can borrow—MINERVA'S BLESSING.

Angeal: If you make fun of my cactus, I'm stabbing you with it.

*Sephiroth walks in with some budget reports and immediately notices the cactus*

Sephiroth: What an inappropriately perky cactus. May I have it?

Angeal: No, you may not have my cactus.

Genesis: I saw it first, Sephiroth.

Sephiroth: Rock, paper, scissors for it?

Angeal: NO ONE is taking my—

*Enter Zack*

Zack: ANGEAL! I finished the—HOLY BAHAMUT IS THAT A BOOB CACTUS??

Genesis: We're currently negotiating its custody.

Angeal: There will be no custody battle over my cactus!

Zack: Does it lactate water? Get it? Because it's a plant? And plants need water?

*Zack doubles over laughing while Sephiroth and Genesis have an avid rock, paper, scissors battle*

Genesis: Paper covers rock. I win.

Sephiroth: There's a simple, direct, and efficient solution to this

*Sephiroth immediately grabs cactus and exits through window*

Angeal, exasperated: Shiva's tits—

Zack: —just got stolen by Sephiroth.

Angeal: GET OUT.

[naffeclipse]

Heya, @sparkym00n, I'm your Secret Skeleton! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy Sun/Moon with a reader who loves scary movies and helps them pass out candy to trick-or-treaters!

Scaredy Clown

Sun/Moon & Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: ~3,800 Warnings: N/A

A scream erupts from the TV. On the screen, the victim is savagely stabbed by the killer doll she didn’t see hiding just beneath the table. No matter how often you warn her not to go into the kitchen, she does it anyway.

You’ve seen this a dozen times before—perhaps in part because it is your favorite scary movie. Even after all these years, it never gets old. The practical efforts are still solid, and the story remains buried within you, waiting to emerge every autumn and whisper to revisit the film. 

What better time to enjoy it than on Halloween?

Walking out of the kitchen, Sun stops and stares with mild concern tugging down on his smile. The October sunlight is warm while the air is cool, and you’re snuggled deep into a blanket on the couch, looking back at your animatronic roommate. You give him a sheepish grin in return.

“Friend, isn’t it a little early to watch such a dark film?” He holds a few orange sheets of crafting paper in his hands which he neatly stacks until each page is even with the next. “I appreciate that you’re getting into the Halloween spirit but I would like to organize the kids’ materials without hearing someone get murdered at eight o’clock in the morning.”

You glance at your phone and sure enough, it is bright and early on October 31st. 

“Sure, Sunny,” you say with a contrite laugh. You click pause on the remote. “I just thought you said you would watch it with me.”

“We did say we would,” he gives pointedly, though you’re not certain if the uncertain flicker of his optics to the screen is just your imagination playing tricks on you so early on the trick-or-treat day. “But after daycare and after we hand out candy to kids.”

Your smile softens as you look over him. He’s even wearing a little costume, with an eyepatch waiting to be drawn down one optic and a little stuffed parrot perched on the white and rough shirt of a pirate.

“Sure, buddy.” You slip off of the couch, stretching your arms high above your head. A soft groan escapes you as you loosen your limbs. You glance back at Sun. “You look good by the way. The kids are going to love you, captain.”

Sun’s white teeth stretch into a full-blown grin. There it is. He hooks one finger, squeezes one eye, and comically growls, “Argh, me matey.”

You snicker. “Save it for the kids.”

“Argh, but me first mate must be in the spirit of the ghoulish gathering so early, and so must I!”

“Stop,” you try to hide your laughter but your shoulders shake. Slipping a hand over your mouth, your smile slips through. “Aren’t you running late?”

Sun straightens, snapping from Foxy the pirate to the daycare owner who needs to get to his job. “Oh, look at the time! You’re right. I’ll see you later. Please do the dishes in the sink and I’ll take care of cleaning up the counters after I get home.”

You reach the kitchen as Sun zigs back to the little box on the counter. It’s filled to the brim with special Halloween stickers, orange and black paper, and scissors with pumpkins on the end of the handles. A few treats are tucked inside, including a bag of sugar-free, one regular, and one little bag of carrots in colorful jack-o-lanterns for every kid and whatever their needs require. 

“Will do.” You lean against the entryway. “Have a good day, Sunny.”

“You as well.” He lifts his head as he hauls up his container. “Happy Halloween! Don’t forget your costume.”

You wave him away as he slips out the door into the crisp autumn air. You glance around the kitchen, dirty and in need of attention. Still, the thought of chores does little to dampen your grin of anticipation.

It’s your day off, miraculously in line with the sugar-filled holiday. 

Your roommate will return soon enough. Eager for an easy day and to celebrate something with your dear friend, you mentally plot out the rest of your day. A fairy costume awaits you for the events of the evening, but what you’re looking forward to is the night after the lights have been turned off and it’s time to crash on the couch and show Moon your favorite movie. You’ve talked it up so much, you hope they can at least enjoy it with you if only to see why you are the way you are.

Until then, you’ll surprise Sun by getting his chores done as well. You’ve got nothing but time and a track of Halloween songs to help you cruise through the day.

*

You’ve started counting how many groups of children knock on your door with FazCo Halloween baskets and hide behind masks from the old era of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. 

There are many Freddy’s, of course, with little bear ears and some even have a mic to accompany them. Old-style Chica pops up now and then with girls that have their hair in pigtails. Once, Foxy the pirate appears, an older boy who has red hair and a big grin hiding under his mask. A few Roxannes appear while parents happily stand back to let the kids knock on your door or older siblings begrudgingly wait, seeming to wish to be anywhere but here. You even see Bonnie on a dad who slings a plastic red guitar over his back and welcomes back his daughter who’s dressed as Ballora. 

You stand beside Sun as the early and youngest kids arrive for candy before the October daylight sinks. Cooing at the costumes, you admire the children. When a kid asks you to guess who they are, you hem and haw in deep thought before the Sun lends you a helpful guess. The kids giggle before snatching a treat and racing back down the front porch.

“They’re being very good tonight,” Sun says as he gently closes the door. With one hand, he fixes the parrot on his shoulder so the yellow peak is facing forward once more, “So many ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s!”

“Yeah,” you say softly, afraid you sound absentminded. You’ve been wondering all evening if anyone would be dressed as the Daycare Attendant back before the mega Pizzaplex burnt down. You almost ask if Sun is disappointed. Instead, you steal a piece of candy and unwrap it.

Sun covers your hand. He tilts his head, one optic pale and milky while the other is covered by a black eyepatch. “You didn’t say trick or treat.”

You stick out your tongue and quickly pop the tootsie roll in your mouth. “Trick.”

“Where are your manners?” he wags his finger at you before a ringing doorbell spares you from his lighthearted rebukes.

The sun drops and bleeds into a darkness thick and befitting for such an enchanting night. Moon pops out, his head spinning in greeting to older kids who stiffen in the slightest before they bust out a grin. Your roommate uses a soft, gentle voice with younger ones when they hesitate to reach up and fish around for candy out of the big orange plastic tub Moon holds.

A few children compliment your fairy costume. You thank them while boldly twirling to show off the translucent mesh of the wings. You even hold a little wand in your hand, a makeshift paint brush with blues and reds and yellows still stained on the bristles, but for any of the curious little ones who ask, you say that you’re a paint fairy. You fix things with paint! They buy it well enough. Sun was the one who helped you pick the purple fabric of your attire and made sure the wings fit on your back without drooping and Moon helped you bring your wand to life with dye.

Again, you count dozens of children wearing Glamrock Freddy masks and one kid with an elaborate Montgomery Gator costume complete with a green tail and a big purple bass hanging off of his shoulder. 

They both run off, almost bumping into another trick-or-treater who stands frozen in place. A little girl. You pause, confused. There’s plenty of candy left, and you open your mouth to say so but stop short.

She whimpers at the bottom of the steps. Moon straightens from the hunched position he had used on the group of older kids who are now retreating down the sidewalk, and he fixes his hat slightly. His nightcap is replaced with a black tricorn leather piece, the kind pirates wear. 

“I can…” you hold out your hand for the bucket of candy. You flicker your eyes back and forth between the girl and her mother who is now kneeling beside her, whispering encouragement into her ear.

A firm look from your dear friend gives you a reason to stay put.

Moon’s red optics soften as he crouches down, eye level with the child. It amazes you to see how small the lanky animatronic can make himself. In a gentle, low, but clear voice, he asks, “Would you like some candy?”

The girl jumps slightly. She’s dressed in a little princess costume, her dress red and her crown a golden plastic tiara. Her mother nods with a gentle smile.

You stand still, waiting with your hands clasped tightly behind your back. A lurch in your heart wonders how Moon will take it if the girl bursts into tears and runs away. It’s terrifying to watch—not like a horror movie where you’re sitting on the couch, safely tucked back from the events playing on the screen. You’re watching it unfold in real-time. You don’t want to witness it end in tragedy but you can’t avert your eyes as Moon gently holds out the orange container with black pumpkins plastered over it.

“Go on,” the little girl’s mother says.

She takes a brave step up, and up, clinging to her mother’s hand. She stops before Moon, halfway hiding her face against her mother’s leg while gazing at Moon.

“Welcome, princess,” Moon bows his head, rolling a little pirate accent in respect. “You must require the greatest candy that only your royal highness can afford. Please, would you take but one of my humble offerings?”

She giggles, partly stilted as if she’s not sure whether to be afraid anymore. 

You keep glancing at him, wondering if this is alright. Does it hurt to see children afraid? Even for a moment? You can’t tell. Moon is so difficult to read.

“Are you a good clown or a bad clown?” the little girl finally asks in a tiny voice. Her big eyes stare up at him with earnest innocence.

“I’m a good one! I swear upon my heart, princess.” He dramatically lays his hand over his white, billowy shirt. “See?”

She looks back once more to her mother before she bravely steps forward. Moon tips the bowl forward so she might choose. She quickly plucks one wrapped sweet and ducks back to her mother.

“Happy Halloween,” Moon says gently.

The girl flashes a small smile, and the fear in her eyes lessens before she hurries away with her mother.

Moon straightens. Though he grins silver teeth in a never-ending smile, you can’t see if he’s upset.

Quietly, you touch Moon’s arm. His shoulder twitches but he doesn’t look at you.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. “I can hand out the candy next time if you prefer.”

“It’s nothing new.” Moon’s faceplate swivels back to you now. His red optics burn low, settling over you with a dusting of crimson. “Kids are afraid of me.”

“Not all of them,” you say quickly. You then bite your bottom lip. Are you making things worse or better?

“No. Not all of them.” Moon looks down at the candy bowl and flicks through a few before he finds a little orange-wrapped peanut butter cup. He holds it out to you. “Even at the Pizzaplex, sometimes kids would cry when it was naptime.”

“I’m sorry, Moon.” You hold his gaze, then glance down to the candy. You try to take it but he slips it back just before your fingers can pinch it. You shoot him a disgruntled look.

He grins wildly, his hat tilting with the roll of his head. 

“You didn’t say trick-or-treat,” he laughs, mischievous and deep.

You stick your tongue out.

“No treats for naughty children.” Moon tucks the peanut butter cup away behind his back. “You can have it when you ask politely.”

“First off, not a kid, second off, I think you’re avoiding the subject.”

“Not avoiding,” he sing-songs in his gravelly voice, “just changing it.”

He pauses. You follow his gaze out to the street where you see two little children skipping between their parents. One wears a mask with Sun’s face on it, and the other wears Moon’s. You almost fall while staring.

Oh. That’s sweet.

You hope.

Moon chuckles once and gently closes the door in anticipation of another child coming down the walkway. You take it as a good sign.

Fine. You’ll bite. You face Moon, and with exaggerated reluctance, say “Trick-or-treat. Please.”

He chuckles before tossing the peanut butter cup to you. You catch it and quickly rip it open, devouring it before the doorbell rings—another round of trick-or-treaters.

“Happy Halloween,” he rasps before opening the door.

~

You check the front porch one last time. The street lies empty and you find a few neighbors flicking off their lights and drawing down curtains. No more kids run up and down the sidewalk. Jack-o-lanterns are slowly eating up the wick and leaving nothing but a puddle of wax in the gourds of their mouths. A cold wind blows through, pushing up leaves and a few unfortunate candy wrappers.

“That should be it.” You flick the front lights off and lock the door with a heavy click. You turn on your heels and face Moon, beaming wide as you shake your shoulders once to wiggle your fairy wings in excitement. “Ready for our movie?”

His smile is unmoving. Red eyes, piercing the slight low light of the entryway give you pause before he dips his head. Slowly, he removes the pirate patch eye.

“Yes,” he rasps. 

You whoop once in glee before rushing into the kitchen to start popcorn. The quiet echo of Moon’s laughter sounds behind you, but it stops short, off-kilter.

A few minutes later, you’re on the couch with a soft blanket and a bowl of popcorn in your lap. Moon crosses his legs beside you, having lost most of his pirate costume. The little parrot on his shoulder remains. It looks funny, perched there in a frozen state of fake feathers and black beady eyes. Moon moves it slightly and makes a squawk to startle you just as the film opens up with the title screen.

You swat at his metallic hands then rethink it and toss your blanket over his head. That does the trick.

Then the first scene begins with the opening scene panning upon an older house.

“Pay attention, you’re going to miss it!” you harshly whisper, straightening to attention. 

Moon snickers as he drags the blanket down his face. His fingers curl over the edge. 

“Too scary, too scary!” he mockingly wails before you toss popcorn at him. It bounces off the billowy white shirt of his half-put-together costume. He arches his brow at you.

“You said you would watch it with me,” your tone inches into a whine. This is supposed to be fun.

Moon pats your head before you again, shove his arm away.

“We did,” Moon relents with a dramatic sigh. “Why a movie about a possessed doll?”

“Because possessed killer dolls are scary. Especially when they’re chasing you.” You pop a handful of your buttery snack into your mouth. “Shush. This is where he gets—just watch!”

Moon reclines into the couch and finally holds still. His nightcap, replacing his pirate hat, dangles over the end of his shoulder. Curiously, you glance at him between scenes. He’s unmoving. A few jumpscares happen, and while they used to get you the first few times you watched it, not anymore. Strangely, Moon doesn’t jump either. His fists, however, clenched tight.

The movie plays on, and you get lost in it once more.

By the time the final girl makes it out alive and the evil killer is defeated, you’re sinking low into the cushions and letting loose a yawn.

“So?” You yawn again. Turning to Moon, you smirk. “What did you think?”

Moon stares straight ahead at the screen. The credits roll and you realize he was clutching fistfuls of his starry pants when he releases the fabric. The deep blue and yellow star print is crumpled.

“Scary,” he says deadpan. “How are you going to sleep tonight?”

“Just fine,” you laugh. “It’s pretty freaky, isn’t it?”

He offers a nonchalant hum. You get to your feet, putting the popcorn bowl aside. You’ll clean it up with the rest of the Halloween decorations in the morning. 

“Come on, buddy. Do you need to charge?” you ask while stretching your arms above your head. You had hoped for a little more comment about one of your favorite movies, but the day has worn away your energy and you’re more than ready to hit the hay. You’ll get more of his thoughts about it tomorrow.

“No. We’re fine until tomorrow evening,” he answers. 

Good, then he’s free to…

You feel a shadow close beside you. Glancing back, you discover Moon looming at your shoulder. You stare at him.

“Do you need something?” you ask, brow crinkling.

He says nothing. Which is not unusual for Moon. He’ll avoid your questions when he doesn’t feel like answering or just to annoy you. It’s hard to tell. You roll your eyes and shrug.

“I’m going to bed then.” You take a step away.

No answer. Moon keeps in time with you, still hovering well within reach but never actually brushing against you.

You look at him again briefly as you shuffle down the hall that leads to the bathroom and your two bedrooms. Moon doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, but they’ve told you in the past that it can relieve some pressure to ‘doze’ for an hour or two. 

You brush your teeth while Moon funnily stands in the doorway, like a guard dog waiting for a threat to approach. Finished with your nightly routine, you slip to your bedroom where Moon continues to hover. You finally stop and face him completely.

“What is it?”

He stares at you, his fingers curling up and down.

“Come on, tell me.” You put a hand on your hip. “What is it that you tell your daycare kids? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?”

A scowl crosses his faceplate. He starts picking at his pirate shirt, staring down at the fluff fabric bunched on the chest while you stand there. You can wait all night. You’ve never seen him so agitated before.

Was it that little girl earlier?

Slowly, Moon lifts his head. His nightcap bell falls from his shoulder and down his back with a soft jingle. 

“Can we stay with you tonight?” he asks in a quiet voice.

You blink. 

Sun’s expression from this morning returns to the front of your mind. The uncertain glance he spared the TV screen despite reassuring you they are planning on watching the movie with you.

“Are you…?” You stop, eyes wide.

“No,” Moon growls then shakes his head, clutching at his hat in a mimic of someone pulling at the roots of their hair in utter frustration. “Forget it.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” You touch his arm and he stops, halfway in the hall and half in your bedroom. “My bed’s a little small but we can both fit.”

He seems to teeter, almost swaying as if to bolt away and never look back, but he slowly turns to face you.

“Will you be comfortable with us that close?”

You laugh gently. “Buddy, it’s no big deal. Come on. What are roommates for, am I right?”

He stares at you. You crack a big smile to chip through his rigidness. The joke falling a little flat aside, Moon begrudgingly allows you to tug him towards your bed. You don’t flip the light on for his sake, and instead quickly throw on pajama bottoms with his back turned to you.

“We didn’t have to watch the movie, you know.” You finish fixing the waistband of your pants on your hips. “It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. We could have watched something else.”

“It’s your favorite,” he says so simply, it gives you pause. You glance over your bed to where he stands, clutching a fistful of your pillow in his hand. “We wanted to experience it with you.”

You sigh gently. A gentle warmth spills into you, and you wonder how you found such a friend.

“Thanks. Next time, we’ll do something that you like, okay?”

“Sure.”

Moon pulls the blankets back, and at the silent invitation, you slip into bed. Moon carefully settles down beside you on top of the covers. He curls himself carefully around you, giving you space to toss and turn on the mattress until your head lies gently on your pillow. He doesn’t touch one inch of you despite so little space. Is he uncomfortable? When you lift your eyes to find him in the dark, the red glow startles you so badly that you almost bite your tongue.

“Are you going to fall off the bed?” you ask, bewildered.

“No.” He grabs the fake parrot on his shoulder and takes it off. Without looking, he sets it down on your nightstand.

“Okay.” You pause, chewing on your lip. “Are you scared?”

“Stop.” A hand covers your face as if forcibly closing your eyelids will make the question go away. “Sleep.”

“Just—can you tell me you’re okay, at least?” you ask, muffled underneath his silicon palm. “I don’t want my friends to be terrified because we did something that I like.”

The quiet settles as heavy as the night. For a long time, you don’t move, caught under his hand and held still by the urge to not shake the bed unnecessarily by squirming under the covers.

“We’re fine,” Moon says softly. “Now.”

You breathe a gentle breath of relief.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me. Goodnight, Moon.” You gently slide his hand off your face and give him a smile in the dark. He can see it, can’t he? “Sweet dreams.”

He doesn’t dream, but you want to say it all the same.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs as you finally drift off into the darkness.

[killing-machine]

hi Hank! I’d love to hear some of your thoughts on Sanford, if uhh, that’s okay with you!

not the greatest with words so this is going to be messy and ill try to keep it shorter.

mainly gonna be referencing this series and not as much project nexus

i think he is painfully underrated and heavily misinterpretated which is really confusing to me because of how much material he has on screen. it doesn't take that much to pay attention to a character that has more screentime that one of the other most popular characters in the series and game.

hes expressive, not wildly dramatically expressive but hes the only character besides jeb that shows facial expressions or some sort of dramatic body language. hes not heavily emotional but he's probably the only person to show atleast something but that mostly comes from fustration or stress.

people dont mention his paranoia enough. hes constantly hyper vigilant, way more than anyone else. even if hes been sneaked up on a few times hes constantly checking over his shoulder and surveying the area and keeping an eye out even when he isnt directly in the line of fire. keeping an eye out for the people around him and himself.

big fan of him being the one to have a bond with everyone, he manages the play well with others and is good at helping keep track of surroundings which ties in with him being hypervigilant especially in MC 11. even while hes stumbling and limping hes still keeping an eye out and keeping track and trying to pay attention to his surroundings.

with the shit i mentioned before where hes expressive with and fustration and anger hes still playful and is still having fun between shots when theres brief moments of a break. playing rock paper scissors, dancing around with his teammate, playful sort of open motion as he get anchors in mc 12, and feeling himself up in his new outfit.

hes tough as shit and i dont think people give him enough credit for that as if it wasnt obvious enough with the hell he went through in MC12 and bring labeled as "unkillable". getting shot and still limping around and then hitting himself with a shot of adrenaline and getting moving again like fucking nothing, taking hit after hit of being bullied and pushed around by tricky, getting flung around and into walls, getting dragged to hell while still alive, fighting iff being possessed, getting stabbed and taking the knife he was stabbed with and etc.

i hate that people label him as deimos' bimbo boytoy with tits, hes a tough motherfucker that has survived it all. hes playful and intimidating, hes a freak and a guy.

id say more but thats all youre getting. take this as bullshit ramble demo-lite because i rant about this bullshit for hours.

[vulpixisananimal]

(Mirabelle) (Thai belongs to @lavender-tea-dragon)

(You cut down the next sadness with ease, your sword slicing through it like butter. You step back, panting, that was the, seventh? Eighth? Glancing around, you can see Isa and Ramos back to back, Odile being helped up by Bonnie, Nille protecting them both, and-)

"MIRA!!"

(You turn, a sadness was rushing at you-)

(In a blink it was sliced clean in half. Siffrin, well, Null, landed a few feet in front of it, his new sword in hand, smiling. Actually, this might be the first time you've seen him smile.)

"T-thanks Null! Having fun?"

"No." (He said, still smiling.) "I never have fun."

"Heh, of course! Oh! lower your stance a little, leg to the-"

(You hear a protest from Odile.) "Now is not the time Mirabelle!"

(You and Null nod at each other, then dive again into the fight.)

(You had made it to Wolworth, and not a moment too soon! You were walking down the road when Null suddenly started running. "Stage time" was all he said. After a very winding sprint, you got here in time to see a wave of sadness storming the city gate.)

(There were SO MANY!!!)

(You throw a scissors sign, your sparkly discs of light slicing into another sadness. The one saving grace here was that these sadness were comically weak! B-but even then, you had to fight the off!! You might not get hurt but if even one makes it in-)

"How ya doing Mira!" (Isabeau yells) "I'm on about eight!"

"Six, here!" (Ramos adds, cracking a fist into another sadness.)

"Are y'really keeping track?!?" (Nille raised an eyebrow, keeping a sadness away from Bonnie and Odile.)

"Of course!" (Isa smiles.) "It's for the competitive spirit."

(You giggle, at least your friends could help make light of it all! You turn to face another sadness, but an arrow pierces it before you can attack. Someone at the gate was holding a bow and a satisfied grinn. You wave.)

(There was a small militia in Wolworth, just a group of everyday people who would come running to fight sadness, but they were overwhelmed when you showed up. Just behind that gate were half a dozen people nursing wounds. Change, they must all be so brave.)

(The wave was thinning out, you stab another, duck back, Null jumps in to strike. It was exhilarating and exhausting. By the time the last sadness fell, your dress was a mess and the tip of your sword felt dulled.)

(You're panting, look around, make sure it's all clear.) ". . Everyone alright!?!"

"Good here!"

"Alive!"

"Tired but great!"

"Safe!!!!!"

"I'm okay."

". . . Well done." (Null sheethed the sword and walked over to you.) "Saving the day yet again with no. . . Urgh-"

(Nulls knees buckled and he collapsed to all fours, breathing heavily. You rushed to his side, healing ready. You heard the others thunder over too.) "A-are you okay?!? Craft exhaustion??"

"Y-yeah-" (He was gasping for air, you got a small tonic out and handed it to him.)

"How many times did you loop just now?" (Odile asks, you could see the worry hidden behind her eyes.)

"Only, two times." (Null drinks down the tonic.) "First, got here late. Many wounded, had to, try again."

(Isa offers a hand, Null takes it, getting back up. Odile squints at him.) ". . . And the second?"

". . . Wanted to look cool."

"Null!!"

"You CRAB!!!

"Haha!!! That's a TERRIBLE idea!"

"Hey! Look alive." (Ramos gets your attention, they're pointing to the city. Right! Call Null Siffrin in front of other people. None of them want that secret getting out after all.)

(Now that the sadness were cleared, some of that city militia were coming to check the aftermath. One had an arm in a sling, another with a bandage on their head, you noticed one was still sitting at the gate, leg in a cast. You see that person with a bow running up to you all.)

"Change I'm glad you all showed up when you did." (The bowman said. She had a heavy jacket and messy darkless hair. She had a sword and shield at the ready, as well as her longbow and arrows over her shoulder. She had bonding earings, too, a snake and a darkless bird.) "Ha! the saviors of Vaugarde themselves coming to save the city, haha!"

"All in a days work!" (Isa said with a smile.)

"I-I'm just glad we made it on time!!" (You walk up to her, still tired, but smiling.) "I-is everyone okay?!?"

"Just some booboos, some real big booboos, but nothing major. What about him?" (She gestured past you to Null.)

"Oh I'm just tired." (Null started.) "Don't worry about-"

"Siffrin here is suffering from acute craft exhaustion." (Odile cuts him off.) "Is there a doctor or someone we could see for medicine?"

"Ha!" (She grinned.) "I know people like that. Sure, there's a medhouse in town, closer to the Wolworth House of Change."

"HEY! ARK!" (One of the other fighters came running over with a limp. He had partially dyed hair and darker skin, they were wearing a striped apron. His bonding earings matched hers.) "Who won!"

"Oh yeah!" (She, Ark? Turned to Isa.) "How many ya get?"

"Oh! I got ten! Ha."

"CRAB YEAH!!!" (The newcomer replied.) "No way anyone could beat that!!"

"Twelve." (Odile replies flatly.) "I guess I'm not anyone."

"COME ON!" (The newcomer pouted and crossed his arms.)

"Told you, Thai." (Ark looked smug, holding out a hand.) "Don't underestimate a book. Pay up-"

(Null coughs into a hand, attention at him.) ". . . Seventeen."

"WHAT?!?"

"NO CRABBIN' WAY!!"

"HAHA!!! YES!!! THAT'S MY BUDDY!!!"

(Thai gave Ark a smug look right back and put his money pouch back. You couldn't help but giggle.)

". . . Aren't you two bonded?" (Bonnie squints at them.) "You'd just have the same amounta money."

"It's about PRIDE! Kid!!" (Thai jeers back. Uhoh.)

"'M NOT A KID!!!" (Bonnie got all big and tall, ready to fight this stranger before Ark got between them both.)

"OH HOW RUDE OF ME I DIDN'T INRODUCE MYSELF! Ahem- My name's Ark (she/her), I help organize-" (Thai punches her in the shoulder) "Ow- Right. I'm in charge of this little group of guards-on-demand."

"Guards on demand?!?" (Thai crosses their arms.) "PUH-LEASE. We kicked their crabbin sadness butts!!!"

"How's the leg." (Ark grinned, Thai winced, still limping, point proven.)

"FINE Whatever. Oh, uh, I'm Thai (he/they), I'm just a tea guy who likes kicking sadness in the face!!" (Thai strikes a heroic pose.)

"Tea?" (Null perked up.)

"YEAH!!! The Tea-vern!! Toughest place in town with the BEST tea IN VAUGARDE!!!"

"Ooooh that's fighting words." (You say jokingly.) "I've had some really really good tea before!"

"We'll I'll make it BETTER!!"

"O-kaaaay we wont keep you guys any longer." (Ark interrupts, putting a hand on Thai.) "We got to clean up the place, thanks again, all of you."

"Thank you all so much!" (You wave goodbye as you head into town.)

"HEY IF Y'LIKE TEA COME BY TO THE TEA-VERN!!" (You hear Thai yell after you.)

(Well, that was a very warm welcome!)

(The city of Wolworth had nice cobblestone streets with a few carts and sturdy looking houses. From what you remember it was built by an architect who wanted to build a city to last, and it did!)

"Ah Wolworth. . ." (Ramos sighed and smiled as you walked through the main gate.) "Can't get rid of me that easily."

"Glad to be back? (Nille asks.)

"Yeah! Can't wait to see Eri again, I hope they're doing good without me!"

"Your guardian, right?" (Null asked. rubbing his head.) "Memory."

"No you're right! Eri! Last letter I sent them was around, well, the King stuff."

"It'll be a reunion to celebrate then!" (Isa cheers.)

"What about 'Frin?" (Bonnie pipes up, poking Null in the side.)

"Right! Well, we should get him to the medical house, but. . ." (You rub your chin, thinking.) ". . . I-Isa could you help me get Sif there? You all go on ahead an meet Mx. Eri!"

"Fine by me." (Null nods.)

"Aww, I wanted to meet 'em sooner but that's okay!" (Isa beams.) "Sifs health comes first!"

"That should be fine." (Ramos nods.) "We'll have the house all ready for you too. Heh."

"Perfect! I'm sure they'll be glad to see you, Ramos!" (You patted them on the back.) "I think we're going opposite directions, right?"

"Yep! You go that way to the House of Change, and the medhouse will be around there. But we're going this way!" (Ramos couldnt wait, and was already walking, jogging off.)

"WAIT UP YOU CRAB!!!" (Bonnie chased them.)

"LANGUAGE- Oh we'll see you guys later, K?" (Nille waves and runs after.)

"Gems. . ." (Odile sighed.) "I thought we were done with the running."

"Cardio is good for you M'dame!" (Isa says encouragingly. Odile just rolled her eyes and chased after the others.)

(The three of you started off in the other direction. It wasn't far, but, it was just far enough to give you a chance to talk about The Thing.)

". . . . S-so!" (You cough into a hand.) "Null, M-mind if I ask about. . . W-well. . . The Ramos thing?"

(Null looks at you and huffs.) "With Siffrin?"

"Yes. With, Siffrin."

"I've been, meaning to ask about that too actually." (Isa adds, he sounded sheepish.) "I promised not to pry but Ramos' really anxious about it."

"Right." (Null breathes in, and out.) "We have reached an agreement, as a Constellation."

"Oh?"

"Yeah?"

(Null nods.) "Mhm. Myself, Mal, and Loop have until we meet and get to know Eri to prove Ramos is a danger."

(You listen intently, Null continues.) "That deadline gives us time to get to know Ramos more, and meeting Eri will help confirm if Ramos is a good person. After that, Siffrin can do whatever they want."

"Right." (You nod. You saw the medhouse come into view.) "So, we'll find out soon, right?"

"Mhm" (Null sighs.) "And you're fine with it, Isabeau?"

"Huh? Oh yeah! I'm fine with it." (He was smiling ear to ear.) "Pretty excited actually!"

". . . Good."

(You walked up to the small one story building with a little tilted plus on the door, there was a little porch out the front. The medical house was just up the street from the House of Change.)

"Here we are! Ready, Sif?" (You turn and ask.)

(Null looked exhausted, but he smiled.) ". . . Ready as ever."

"That's the spirit." (Isa smiled at him.)

"Alright, let's go!" (You turn to the door and open it.)

(The inside was a little waiting room. A desk, a few chairs, and some random books. There was a couple of people here already, one had a doctors coat with some papers. The other had a vest, dark hair, bonding earings, and-)

"It's you!!!"

(Perci turns to you, the shock on his face was obvious. Your reach for your sword-)

"O-OH!! Yes I'm sorry for running out on our get together but I just had to check on my bonded!!" (Perci interupts anything you were about to say, he turned back to the doctor.) "A-and, you're sure they'll be alrght?"

"I'm positive, Mr. Monet. She just needs a few more days rest."

"Oh change, thank you, you've put my heart at rest. ." (He's smiling, normalcy intact.)

(He turns to exit, pausing a second. You see him very clearly and purposfuly put his hands into his vest pockets, one of them was bandaged. You take your hand away from your sword and step to the side. He waits a second, then walks past the three of you.)

"We can catch up outside." (You hear him whisper.)

(. . . What was HE doing here.)

"Friend of yours?" (The doctor asks.)

"Somewhat." (You reply simply- Oh crab.) "B-but enough of that. Could you help us? My friend here's suffering from craft exhaustion."

"A second case in so many days?" (The doctor chuckled.) "People need to remember to take crafts slow."

". . Haha, yeah, I know, right?" (Isa tries livening up the tone, helping Null over to the doctor. He glances at you, and nods. You nod back.)

(You pause for a second, the doctor lead them away. You do the Siffrin thing; breathe in. . . And out. . . You turn to the door, turn the handle, and walk out.)

(. . . . Perci was standing on the porch to the right. A soft 'tink tink tink' of metal eminated from a 3d puzzle he was focused on. It was the kind where you were supposed to untangle two things of metal spaghetti from each other.)

(. . . Well he could read your mind, right? didn't you want to talk?)

(. . . He's still focused on the puzzle. Well, fine then. You cough.)

(His head bolts up to look at you. Now that you weren't about to stab him through the chest, you could see the bags under his eyes. He sighs.) ". . Lady Mirabelle."

"Mister Monet." (You reply, taking a step forward.) "You have a lot to answer for you, you crab!"

(He raises an eyebrow, then looks back to the puzzle as he talks.) "Ahaa. . . I'm sure you think I do. . . How's Siffrin? Not sick I hope."

". . . They're fine." (You huff, and look out from the porch.) "It's craft exhaustion, they haven't fully recovered from your friendly scuffle."

"Ah, yes." (Perci pauses again.) ". . . Merlon was very cross with me about that when she woke up. She was not a fan of that loophole I used- ah, pun not intended."

"Hmph." (You don't look at him. 'Loophole', yes, exhausing Null half to death in that fight. Wait, when they woke up?) "Is something wrong with Merlon?"

"Ah. . Yes. She's also been recovering from craft exhaustion since that fight." (He sighs.) "That skill they used was one they never used before. It nearly killed her."

". . . ." (Are you lying to me, Perci?)

". . . ." (He still doesn't respond, the only sound that came from him was the tinking of metal.)

". . . And, so they're still recovering?"

"Yes, she is." (Tink tink tink.) "Transporting matter from one point to another takes an incredible amount of energy. Energy that she didn't have."

"That's. . . Hard to believe." (You were trying to keep calm. It was very, very hard to believe. If Sif can- wait stop thinking! He can still read your mind, right. . ? Or. . .) ". . Can't you read my mind, Perci?"

"Hm?" (He looks up again, then down to the puzzle.) "Oh! Well, yes? But you don't need to worry about that right now."

(He holds up the puzzle.) "A word to the wise if you learn Mind Craft, find something to focus your attention on. If I let my mind wander it will eventually wander to all the minds around me. Imagine hearing the inner monolog of every person around you at once. A puzzle like this, though? A wonderful way to focus."

"Oh!" (You perk up, mind clicking like said puzzle.) "So you really are being honest with me?"

"Of course" (He smiled, back to the puzzle.) "Why wouldn't I- oh dear don't tell me I left such a bad impression you think me a dishonest man."

"You are a dishonest man!"

"Lady Mirabelle, I promise I'm no such- aha!"

(With one last clink, he undoes the two bits of the puzzle, before happily starting to put it together again.)

(You huff.) "Alright, fine. If we're being honest with each other then, then, just know I don't trust you, Perci."

". . . I see." (Perci sighs, pausing a moment again before replying.) "I won't pretend like I can get that trust back. But, I would at least like you to know I'm really not an evil or dishonest man."

". . . I understand." (You sigh, letting yourself relax.) "I. . . It'll be hard to trust you. But, I'll believe that you're not evil." (Not like the King. . .)

". . . Thank you. Aha, actually." (He holds up the bandaged hand.) "Did you know about that little side effect of mind craft? Or did you get lucky in our fight."

"Side effect?" (You tilt your head.) ". . . If that's the wound from our fight, that should have been healed weeks ago."

"Good eye." (He nods, flexing his his hand and wincing.) "Advanced mind craft requires skin to skin contact; it's a connection of the nerves. If you use mind craft a lot like I do, the nerves on where you connect with mind craft become more sensitive over time. And for me, it's my hands."

". . . Oh." (You remember back to that day, how you struck his hand, and how he couldn't hold his sword, afterwards.) ". . S-sorry."

"Don't be, we were fighting after all." (He chuckles.) "But yes, my hands are very sensitive. My swords handles are specially made to be easy on the hands, and I really should get gloves too, but. . ."

"No you should, that sounds like a great idea! For everyone." (You giggle to yourself.)

(He laughs back, and clicks the two pieces of the puzzle back together. He held it out to you.) "Lady Mirabelle, I promise that, until my bonded has recoverd, I will not cause what you consider trouble."

(You look at his outstretched hand holding the puzzle, then to him. There's a quiet, uncomfortable pause.)

". . . Ah! Right." (He chukles, and places the puzzle on the banister, NOW you take it. Looking over, he's already pulled out a new one.) ". . So, deal?"

". . . Fine." (You huff.) "I don't like you, Mr. Monet, but I'll try and trust you here. It would be nice to have a few days without worrying about trouble."

"Ahaha, I imagine. I heard about the dramatics outside the gate. Oh! What brings you to Wolworth, by the way?"

"Oh!" (You look at him, smile on your face again.) "We're actually visiting Eri! Ramos' guardian! Once Siffrin's better we're meeting up, at. . ."

(Your voice trails off. Perci is looking at you, mouth open with a mix of shock and horror.)

(You tilt your head.) ". . . .Is, something wrong."

"You. . ." (You can see him struggling to keep his mask in place, but it slipped. It slipped just enough to see the sorrow behind it. He looks away.)

"You, you don't know. . ?"

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- Case Gone Wrong

It's been 2 weeks since YN's disappearance. 2 weeks since a case went wrong and YN was taken, tied up and beaten to an inch of her life. Everyone at intelligence has been working hard to find her, especially her boyfriend Jay and her dad Hank Voight

"Jay you need to go home, rest" Erin sighs at her partner

"I can't"

"I know your worried, so am I, but we won't help YN if we're tired"

"We won't help her if we're asleep either!" Jay yells, but Erin knows he's just tired, angry, upset, worried

"I think we may have a break through" Antonio says walking in with a woman "this is Mary she has something that could help us"

Voight and Antonio sit Mary down with a glass of water while the others stand behind the glass watching

"Tell him what you told me"

"Errm a couple of weeks ago I saw my neighbour take a young woman into his house. She was unconscious, she had a bandage on her head. So obviously I asked him if she was ok and he said that she fell and he was bringing her back from the hospital. I didn't think much of it. But this morning I watched him come home with more bandages"

"What did the girl look like?"

"Errm short dark blond hair, almost light brown. I didn't get a good look at her face, but she had a tattoo behind her ear" Voight and Antonio look at each other

"What was it?" Antonio asks

"It was a J I think"

"That's YN" Voight rubs his hand over his face

"We need an address"

Unbeknownst to YN, her PD family were on the way to save her while she was being tortured once again

"You nearly got me arrested. I thought you were my friend" Max, the guy they have been after for a year, says "thought we had something special. You know, after the trade I was going to ask you to be by my side permanently" YN doesn't speak, mainly because it hurts to open her mouth, but also because she has nothing to say to Max "now I think I'm going to have a little bit more fun with you, then I'll start cutting you up piece by piece, sent it to you dad, or maybe your boyfriend" Max grabs a knife stabbing it into her thigh, but she refuses to make any noise and give him the satisfaction.

Intelligence arrive in no time at all so when Max hears there's a bang upstairs, he looks at YN smiling. He places some tapes around YN's mouth, wrapping it around her head. He picks up his gun and leaves YN alone in the basement downstairs. All she can do is hope someone comes downstairs, but she knows that her dad and Jay will check every inch of this house.

Footsteps run down stairs, YN looks up to see Erin

"I got her!" Erin shouts running over to YN then sees the blood coming out of her thigh "I need an ambo at our location, stab wound victim loosing blood" Erin says into her radio after taking off her jacket and wrapping it tightly around her leg "guys I need help down here!" Erin yells again trying to untie the girl she classes as a sister "god YN your freezing" more footsteps are heard running down and over to YN

"Baby what did he do to you?" Jay exclaims before helping Erin

"He's wrapped the tape around her head. If we rip it off it will pull her hair out"

"Paramedics will have scissors, they can at least release her mouth" once Jay and Erin have YN untied, Jay picks his girlfriend up and takes her upstairs to wait for the ambo to arrive.

YN wakes up to Jay, Will and her dad in her hospital room

"Hey YN" Will softly says

"You want a drink?" Voight asks his daughter who slightly nods her head

"Here let me help you" Jay helps YN sit up a little so that her dad can direct the straw into YNs mouth. She takes a couple sips before laying back down. Jay moves some hair out of her face, she now noticed how tired both her boyfriend and dad look

"Have you slept?" YN asks quietly

"Not much. We were worried about you" Jay replies

"Do you remember what happened?" Will asks, YN gives him a nod "you had to have stitches in your leg"

"YN did he.. did he erm..." YN knows what Jay is trying to say

"No. Just hit me" Jay breaths a sigh of relief

"When can she leave?" Voight asks Will

"Well she can go home tomorrow as long as she's eaten and gone to the toilet. And she needs to have someone with her all the time for the next 2 weeks"

"Jay you can stay home with her, just have your phone on you"

"Got it"

"Now what do you say to trying to eat something?" Will asks. YN gives him a nod "ok. I'll be back in a bit" Will leaves the room

"Did you get Max?"

"Yeah we did"

"Good" YN smiles

"I'm going to head back to the precinct, I'll be back later" Voight says kissing his daughters forehead then leaving the room.

Jay stays with YN for the next 24 hours, even when Will and YN both tell him to go home.

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Reader - this was just a secondary version of my last post,

A/N : i finished this on the toilet….

Part 1: The Mission Aftermath

The Batcave was eerily quiet when Damian and Bruce returned from patrol. Y/N, sitting at the main console, was focused on tracking a new lead Oracle had sent over. She’d stayed behind that night, acting as backup, coordinating their intel and providing support from the cave.

The hiss of the Batmobile brought her attention to the duo stepping out. Damian strode in first, his movements stiff but controlled, his cape flowing behind him like a second shadow. His uniform was torn at the side, revealing a deep cut across his toned torso. Bruce followed, his gaze impassive as always, though the sight of Damian’s injury had clearly left a mark of concern in his furrowed brow.

“Y/N,” Bruce called, his baritone voice snapping her out of her thoughts. “Damian needs stitches.”

Y/N sighed, standing up and grabbing the first-aid kit from the desk. “Of course he does.”

“I’m fine,” Damian snapped, brushing off his father’s attempt to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Fine?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You’re bleeding through your suit.”

Y/N approached, her short wavy hair bouncing slightly as she walked. The red streak glinted under the Batcave’s harsh lighting. She crossed her arms, fixing Damian with a pointed look. “Take off the top half of your suit. I can’t exactly stitch through Kevlar.”

Damian glared at her, his green eyes sharp. “I don’t need—”

“Now, Damian,” Bruce interjected before Damian could argue further. “You’re not going out again until it’s treated.”

Damian huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he unhooked his cape and began removing the top half of his suit. He winced slightly as he pulled it over his head, exposing the jagged cut across his torso. His skin was flushed from exertion, his muscles taut as he crossed his arms, glaring at nothing in particular.

Y/N grabbed a pair of scissors and approached, carefully cutting away the fabric around the wound. “Hold still,” she ordered, her tone firm.

“I’m perfectly still,” Damian shot back.

“You’re tense,” Y/N countered, pressing lightly near the wound to inspect it. Damian flinched, his jaw tightening as he instinctively moved away.

“Stop squirming, Damian!” she said, exasperated.

“I’m not squirming,” Damian retorted, though his shoulders were practically glued to his ears in discomfort.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. “Good luck,” he muttered before retreating toward the Batcomputer.

Part 2: The Stitching Struggle

Y/N crouched beside Damian, her gloved hands working quickly to clean the wound. The proximity made Damian visibly uncomfortable. His fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh, and his jaw clenched whenever she moved too close.

“Damian,” Y/N warned, looking up at him. “If you keep moving, this is going to take twice as long.”

“I’m not moving,” he muttered, though his fidgeting hands said otherwise.

“You are literally twitching right now,” she said, gesturing to his restless fingers. “Do you want me to mess up and leave you with a scar? Because I will.”

He scowled, his cheeks slightly pink. “You’re incapable of messing up, so don’t patronize me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Then hold still and stop being so annoying.”

“I’m not—” Damian began, but the sharp sting of antiseptic cut him off. He hissed, his hand shooting out to grip the edge of the med table.

“Oh, suck it up,” Y/N said, unamused. “You get stabbed all the time, and this is what makes you flinch?”

Damian glared at her. “Tt. You’re insufferable.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same about you.” She smirked, grabbing the needle and thread. “Okay, this is the fun part. Try not to squirm.”

Damian shot her a look that could curdle milk. “I said I’m not squirming.”

Y/N leaned closer, her focus narrowing on the wound as she carefully began stitching. The closeness was unavoidable, and she was acutely aware of Damian’s quickened breathing.

“Y/N, can you—”

“What?” she asked distractedly, pulling the thread taut.

“Nothing,” Damian muttered, his gaze darting anywhere but her face. The faint pink in his cheeks deepened, though he tried to mask it with a scowl.

Part 3: Disaster Strikes

After a few more stitches, Damian shifted again, his muscles tightening as she worked.

“Damian,” Y/N said through gritted teeth, “if you don’t stop moving, I swear—”

“I’m not—” Damian moved once more, causing Y/N to lose her balance. She slipped forward, her knees landing awkwardly between his legs as she caught herself on his chest. Her face was inches from his, their eyes locking in shared shock.

“Uh…” Y/N started, her voice faint.

Damian’s eyes widened, his cheeks now a vivid crimson. “Get off of me!” he snapped, though his hands instinctively caught her waist to steady her.

“I am!” she shot back, struggling to push herself upright. Before she could, the sound of footsteps made both of them freeze.

“Damian—” Bruce’s voice cut through the air as he rounded the corner. He stopped abruptly, taking in the scene: Y/N practically sprawled across Damian, their faces far too close for comfort.

“What…” Bruce’s brow furrowed deeply, and he crossed his arms. “Am I interrupting something?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Y/N blurted, scrambling to her feet.

“Clearly,” Damian added, his tone sharp as he stood as well, brushing imaginary dirt from his pants.

For a moment, Bruce stared at them, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, rubbing his temple. “Just… finish treating the wound. And try to stay professional.”

Damian opened his mouth to argue, but Bruce was already walking away, muttering something about “teenagers” under his breath.

Part 4: The Teasing Begins

The awkward silence between Damian and Y/N didn’t last long. As soon as Bruce disappeared, the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter echoed through the Batcave. Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t,” Damian said sharply, glaring toward the source of the laughter.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Dick said, walking into view with his hands raised in mock surrender, though his grin betrayed him. “I just… That was priceless.”

“What are you even doing here, Grayson?” Damian snapped, still visibly flustered.

“Making sure you’re not dying,” Dick replied. “And, apparently, catching some quality entertainment while I’m at it.”

“Shut up,” Damian growled, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Wait—what happened?” Tim’s voice carried through the air as he jogged into the Batcave, Jason following closely behind. “Why is everyone—oh. Oh.”

Tim’s eyes landed on Y/N and Damian, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Did I miss something? Please tell me I didn’t miss something.”

Jason, who was leaning against a nearby wall, raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Damian did something stupid again.”

“Not this time,” Dick said, clapping Jason on the back. “Y/N fell on him.”

“And Bruce walked in,” Tim added, his grin widening.

Y/N threw her hands in the air. “It wasn’t like that!”

“Oh, but it looked like that,” Dick teased, waggling his eyebrows. “The proximity. The awkward tension. The panic. Chef’s kiss.”

“Grayson, leave,” Damian barked, his face practically glowing red now.

“But I’m having so much fun!” Dick protested, flopping onto a chair. “Besides, I’m not the only one enjoying this.”

“Obviously,” Tim said, pulling out his phone. “This moment needs documentation.”

“No pictures,” Damian snapped, lunging toward Tim.

Tim dodged easily, laughing as he darted behind Jason for cover. “Relax, Dami. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Since when?” Damian countered, his voice low and threatening.

Jason snorted. “You two are such children. At least Y/N is staying out of this.”

“I’m really not,” Y/N muttered, glaring at the group. “You’re all the worst.”

“Aw, c’mon, Y/N,” Dick said, grinning at her. “Admit it—you’re having fun.”

“Not even a little,” Y/N replied flatly, though the faint blush on her cheeks suggested otherwise.

Part 5: Stephanie Joins the Party

As if things couldn’t get worse, Stephanie appeared at the top of the stairs, leaning over the railing. “What’s going on down here? Why is Tim giggling like a maniac?”

Tim waved her down enthusiastically. “You’re just in time. Damian and Y/N had a moment.”

Stephanie’s eyes lit up with mischief as she descended the stairs. “A moment, huh? Do tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Damian growled, his tone icy.

“Except that Y/N fell on him,” Dick said, unable to resist fanning the flames. “And Bruce walked in at the worst possible time.”

Stephanie gasped dramatically, clapping her hands together. “No way! This is perfect.”

“It’s not perfect,” Damian shot back, his voice rising. “It’s none of your business!”

“Correction,” Jason said, smirking. “When it happens in the Batcave, it’s everyone’s business.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Can we all just move on?”

“Nope,” Stephanie said, plopping onto a nearby stool. “This is too good. I mean, when else are we going to see Damian this flustered?”

“I’m not flustered!” Damian insisted, though the redness in his face betrayed him.

“Sure, you’re not,” Stephanie said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I think this calls for a celebration.”

“Don’t,” Y/N warned, narrowing her eyes.

Stephanie ignored her. “We should totally tell Alfred. He’ll love this.”

“Stephanie!” Damian and Y/N shouted in unison, their voices laced with panic.

Jason barked out a laugh. “I’d pay good money to see Alfred’s reaction.”

“Why do you all insist on tormenting me?” Damian growled, his hands balling into fists.

“Because it’s fun,” Tim said simply.

Part 6: The Kitchen Incident

After what felt like an eternity of teasing, the group finally dispersed—though not without a fair amount of snickering and side comments. Damian and Y/N were left in the Batcave, the tension still thick between them.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked after a moment, her voice soft.

Damian glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your brothers are… well, them,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the direction they’d gone.

“Tt. I can handle them,” Damian said, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

Y/N smiled faintly. “Good. Because they’re not going to let this go anytime soon.”

“Unfortunately,” Damian muttered, running a hand through his hair.

The rest of the evening passed without incident—until the group reconvened for dinner. Y/N found herself in the kitchen, helping Alfred clean up while the others lounged around the dining room. Damian, ever the perfectionist, joined her, claiming he couldn’t stand the sight of Dick’s lazy posture.

“Pass me that towel,” Y/N said, motioning to the counter.

Damian handed it to her without a word, his movements stiff and precise. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the faint tension in his shoulders—a sign he was still on edge from earlier.

“Relax, Damian,” she said lightly. “It’s just dishes.”

“I am relaxed,” he replied, his tone defensive.

“Right,” Y/N said, smirking as she turned back to the sink.

That’s when Tim walked in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Need any help in here?”

“No,” Damian said immediately.

Tim ignored him, sauntering over to the sink. “You’re doing a great job, Y/N. Very thorough.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Y/N replied, raising an eyebrow.

Tim leaned casually against the counter, a little too close to Damian. “You know, Dami, you should learn a thing or two about teamwork. Maybe take some notes from Y/N.”

Damian scowled. “Tt. I don’t need advice from you, Drake.”

“Suit yourself,” Tim said with a shrug. Then, with calculated precision, he nudged Damian’s shoulder—just enough to throw him off balance.

Damian stumbled, colliding with Y/N, who was leaning over the sink. The sudden impact sent her forward, water splashing everywhere as Damian’s hands landed on her waist to Part 7: The Kitchen Chaos

Damian’s hands instinctively gripped Y/N’s waist to steady her, but the proximity was, once again, way too close for comfort. Y/N froze, her hands braced against the edge of the sink as Damian practically loomed over her back.

“Damian!” she snapped, whipping her head around to glare at him. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t mean—” Damian started, his voice flustered and defensive. “Drake shoved me!”

“Tim!” Y/N exclaimed, glaring past Damian. “Seriously?”

Tim burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as he pointed at the two of them. “Oh my God, this is perfect! You guys are like magnets for awkward moments.”

Damian released Y/N as if her skin burned him, his jaw tightening in irritation. “I’ll give you a five-second head start, Drake.”

Tim, unfazed, held up his hands. “Relax, Dami. It’s just a joke.” He smirked and added, “Though Bruce might not think so if he walks in right now.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Damian growled, taking a step forward.

But before Damian could lunge, a voice cut through the room. “Do I even want to know what’s going on here?”

Bruce stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Behind him, Dick and Jason peered in with barely contained grins. Stephanie had joined them, and she was already laughing.

Y/N groaned, covering her face with one hand. “This is not what it looks like.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed, his gaze flicking between Damian and Y/N, who were both still slightly damp from the sink mishap. “It never is,” he said dryly. “But I keep walking into these situations.”

“I’m being sabotaged,” Damian muttered, glaring at Tim.

“Oh, come on,” Dick chimed in, stepping into the kitchen. “This is hilarious. You two are like a sitcom.”

Jason leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk growing. “I mean, if you guys wanted some alone time, you could’ve just said so. No need to involve the dishes.”

“Enough,” Damian barked, his patience clearly at its limit. “You’re all insufferable.”

“I think it’s adorable,” Stephanie said, grinning at Y/N. “You guys have such great chemistry.”

“There is no chemistry!” Y/N snapped, her face heating up. She turned to Bruce, desperate for an ally. “Can you please make them stop?”

Bruce stared at her for a moment, then at Damian. Finally, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve given up trying to control them.”

“That’s because he secretly enjoys it,” Dick whispered loudly, earning a sharp look from Bruce.

“I heard that, Richard,” Bruce said.

Part 8: The Aftermath

After much bickering, Alfred finally appeared to restore order. “Master Tim,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Perhaps you’d like to assist me in organizing the pantry instead of causing chaos?”

Tim groaned. “Fine. But I stand by my art.”

“Art?” Damian repeated, his tone incredulous. “You’re ridiculous.”

As Alfred ushered Tim away, Dick and Jason decided to follow, leaving Damian and Y/N alone in the kitchen. The silence that settled was heavy and awkward, the tension from earlier still lingering.

Y/N sighed, grabbing a towel to dry her damp hands. “You okay?”

Damian scowled, his gaze fixed on the counter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your brothers are maniacs,” Y/N said, leaning against the sink. “And they seem to enjoy making your life miserable.”

Damian’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smirk. “Tt. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Yeah, but you’re also a terrible patient,” she teased, her tone light. “You make everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Maybe you’re just bad at your job,” Damian retorted, though the faint pink in his cheeks betrayed his usual bravado.

Y/N rolled her eyes, tossing the towel onto the counter. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Of course I do,” Damian said, his smirk growing slightly.

Part 9: The ension Breaks

For a moment, Y/N considered throwing the towel at Damian’s smug face, but instead, she exhaled and gave him a tired smile. “At least you’re self-aware.”

Damian crossed his arms, leaning back slightly. “I don’t see how that’s a flaw.”

“Of course you don’t,” Y/N muttered, turning back toward the sink to finish cleaning. “You’re too stubborn to see anything as a flaw.”

“I prefer ‘confident,’” Damian corrected.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You really are impossible.”

The sound of her laugh made Damian pause. For a split second, the tension in his posture eased, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Why do you even bother?” he asked suddenly, his tone quieter.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Bother with what?”

“Helping me,” Damian said, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. “Dealing with my—” He hesitated, clearly reluctant to admit any sort of fault. “—attitude.”

Y/N turned to face him fully, her expression softening. “Because I care,” she said simply. “And because someone has to.”

Damian’s eyes widened slightly, the faintest hint of vulnerability flashing across his face. He quickly masked it with a scoff, looking away. “Tt. You’re too sentimental.”

“And you’re too proud,” Y/N shot back, smiling faintly. “Guess we balance each other out.”

Before Damian could respond, a loud crash from the dining room interrupted the moment.

Part 10: The Final Push

“What now?” Y/N muttered, already moving toward the source of the noise.

When she and Damian entered the dining room, they were greeted by the sight of Dick sprawled on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Jason stood nearby, holding a chair that had clearly been knocked over in the commotion. Tim and Stephanie were perched on the table, grinning like mischievous children.

“What happened?” Y/N asked, her hands on her hips.

“Teamwork,” Jason said simply, gesturing toward Dick. “He thought he was sneaky, but I caught him.”

“Caught him doing what?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Trying to rig the kitchen door to lock,” Jason explained, smirking. “Probably planning to trap you two in there. Again.”

Damian’s glare turned murderous. “Grayson…”

Part 11: The Plan Backfires

“What?” Dick said, holding up his hands defensively as he climbed to his feet. “I thought you two needed some quality time to sort out… all this tension.”

“What tension?” Y/N snapped, her face heating up as her gaze flicked between Dick and Damian.

Dick gave her an exaggerated look, one eyebrow arched. “The tension, Y/N. It’s practically its own entity at this point.”

“There is no tension!” Damian growled, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Right,” Tim said, grinning. “That’s why you look like you’re two seconds away from throwing Dick into the Batmobile.”

“Not a bad idea,” Jason muttered, smirking.

Y/N groaned and pressed her palms to her temples. “Can we all just act like normal human beings for five minutes?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Stephanie chimed in, swinging her legs off the table. “Besides, this is way more entertaining than a quiet night.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Y/N said, crossing her arms.

“And yet you love us,” Dick quipped, winking at her.

“Speak for yourself,” Damian muttered under his breath.

Dick ignored him, turning his attention back to the group. “All I’m saying is, maybe we’re just trying to help. You know, give you two a little push in the right direction.”

Damian’s glare darkened. “You’re pushing too hard, Grayson.”

“Am I?” Dick replied, feigning innocence. “Or are you just afraid to admit that I’m right?”

“Keep testing me, and you’ll find out exactly what I’m capable of,” Damian warned, his tone low and menacing.

Jason snorted. “Careful, Dick. He looks like he’s about to blow a gasket.”

Part 12: The Fall

As the bickering escalated, Y/N decided she’d had enough. She turned to head back to the kitchen, only for her foot to catch on the edge of the carpet. She stumbled forward, her arms flailing for balance—just as Damian instinctively stepped toward her to help.

Unfortunately, Damian misjudged his footing in the rush, and the two of them collided, tumbling to the floor in a heap. Y/N landed on top of Damian, her hands braced against his chest to steady herself.

The room fell into a stunned silence for a moment before Jason let out a bark of laughter. “Well, this just keeps getting better.”

Y/N’s face turned bright red as she scrambled to get off Damian. “I—I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Damian muttered, though his cheeks were tinged pink as he avoided her gaze.

“Aw, that was adorable,” Stephanie said, clutching her hands over her heart dramatically. “You two are like a rom-com waiting to happen.”

“Shut up, Brown,” Damian growled, his voice dripping with irritation.

“Relax, Dami,” Tim said, smirking. “It’s not like we’re judging you. Much.”

Damian sat up, his glare cutting through the group. “I swear, if any of you say one more word—”

“—you’ll what? Brood harder?” Jason teased, earning a few snickers from the others.

Part 13: The Kiss

Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples. “You guys are impossible.”

“Right back at you,” Dick said, his grin widening. “But, hey, I think you owe Damian a thank you for breaking your fall.”

Y/N turned to Damian, her embarrassment still written all over her face. “Uh… thanks, I guess.”

“Tt,” Damian replied, standing up and brushing himself off. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jason echoed, leaning against the wall. “Looked like something to me.”

“Maybe we should give them some privacy,” Stephanie suggested, grinning.

Before Damian could respond, Y/N let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. You all want a show? Here.”

And then, without thinking, she turned to Damian, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss.

The room erupted into chaos.

“Whoa!” Dick shouted, his eyes wide with shock.

“Holy—” Jason started, but his words were drowned out by Stephanie’s excited squeal.

“Finally!” Tim yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Damian froze for a moment, completely caught off guard. But as the initial shock wore off, he found himself leaning into the kiss, his hands tentatively resting on Y/N’s waist.

When Y/N pulled back, her face was bright red, and Damian looked like he was struggling to process what had just happened.

“There,” Y/N said, her voice a little breathless. “Happy now?”

The room was silent for a beat before Dick burst out laughing. “Oh, we are definitely happy now.”

Part 14: The Aftermath

Damian turned on his brothers and Stephanie, his expression a mix of embarrassment and fury. “If any of you say another word—”

“What? You’ll kiss us next?” Jason teased, dodging Damian’s attempted punch.

“I hate all of you,” Damian growled, though the redness in his cheeks undercut his usual menace.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Dami,” Stephanie said, grinning. “You’ve got a girlfriend now! You should be happy.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Y/N said quickly, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Not yet,” Tim muttered, earning a sharp glare from both Damian and Y/N.

Bruce walked in at that exact moment, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Damian and Y/N said in unison.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. “I’m too old for this.”

“Join the club,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Part 15: The Endless Teasing

The chaos didn’t end with Bruce’s weary departure. If anything, his brief interruption seemed to embolden everyone else. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Stephanie all huddled together, whispering conspiratorially and shooting sly glances toward Damian and Y/N.

Y/N, still standing uncomfortably close to Damian after the kiss, could feel the weight of their teasing looks. She crossed her arms, trying to mask her growing discomfort. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we move on now?”

“No way,” Dick said, grinning from ear to ear. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”

“Best thing all month,” Stephanie corrected, leaning against the table. “Do you know how rare it is to see Damian look this flustered?”

Damian bristled, his fists clenching. “I am not flustered.”

“You totally are,” Tim said, smirking. “And honestly? It’s adorable.”

Jason chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “Dami’s growing up so fast. Next thing you know, he’ll be writing sonnets about Y/N and picking flowers.”

“Would you all shut up?” Damian snapped, his voice dangerously low. “Or I swear—”

“What? You’ll throw another tantrum?” Jason interrupted, his smirk widening. “Careful, baby bird. That’ll just make this even better for us.”

“Jason,” Y/N said, stepping forward with a glare. “You’re not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Jason replied with a shrug. “But thanks for noticing.”

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”

Part 16: Stephanie’s Master Plan

“Ridiculous, yes. Hilarious, also yes,” Stephanie said, pulling out her phone. “We should really commemorate this moment. Group photo, anyone?”

“No,” Damian said immediately, his voice sharp.

“Oh, come on!” Stephanie pouted. “Just one picture. It’ll be cute.”

“Stephanie,” Y/N warned, her tone low. “Don’t you dare.”

Ignoring her, Stephanie raised her phone and aimed it at Damian and Y/N. Before she could snap the picture, Damian lunged forward, snatching the phone from her hands.

“Hey!” Stephanie protested, trying to grab it back. “That’s not fair!”

Damian held the phone high out of her reach, his expression a mix of irritation and smug satisfaction. “Consider it a lesson in boundaries.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” Stephanie muttered, crossing her arms.

“And yet, I’m still smarter than you,” Damian replied, tossing the phone back to her.

Part 17: Peace Negotiations

Before Stephanie could launch into another round of teasing, Dick stepped forward, clapping his hands together. “Alright, alright. Let’s call a truce before Damian actually murders one of us.”

“Tempting,” Damian muttered under his breath, shooting Jason and Stephanie a warning glare.

“Look,” Y/N said, raising her hands in exasperation. “I know you guys live for chaos, but can we please move on? This whole thing has already gone too far.”

“Too far?” Tim repeated with mock surprise. “We’re just getting started!”

“Tim,” Y/N said, her tone sharp. “Don’t.”

Tim smirked but wisely backed off, retreating behind Jason.

Jason, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “Fine, fine. We’ll drop it—for now. But I’m keeping tabs on you two. Never thought I’d see the day Damian Wayne became a certified softie.”

Damian took a menacing step forward, but Y/N put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Jason, enough,” she said firmly.

Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, nurse. Whatever you say.”

Damian glanced down at Y/N’s hand on his chest, his expression softening for a split second before he caught himself and stepped back. “Let’s leave before I lose my patience entirely.”

“Good idea,” Y/N muttered, already turning toward the door.

“Wait!” Dick called after them. “At least let me get—”

The sound of the kitchen door slamming shut cut him off.

Part 18: A Quiet Moment

Once safely out of the dining room, Damian and Y/N stopped in the hallway. The muffled sound of laughter still echoed behind them, but at least they were alone.

Y/N sighed, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. “Your family is insane.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Damian said, his tone dry. “They’ve been unbearable for years.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Still, they mean well. In their own, chaotic way.”

Damian’s expression softened, and he leaned against the opposite wall, studying her carefully. “You handled them better than most.”

“I’ve had practice,” Y/N replied with a faint smile. “Besides, someone had to keep you from losing it in there.”

“I didn’t lose it,” Damian said defensively.

“Not yet,” Y/N teased, her smile widening.

Part 19: Unspoken Understanding

Damian crossed his arms, his brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Y/N. “You really don’t have to deal with all of this, you know. My family… they’re relentless. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to avoid it altogether.”

Y/N tilted her head, her expression softening. “And leave you to face them alone? Not a chance.”

Damian’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “You’re persistent.”

“Someone has to be,” she replied lightly. “Besides, they’re not all bad. They’re just… enthusiastic.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed, though his tone lacked its usual edge. “That’s one word for it.”

Y/N straightened, stepping closer to him. “Look, I know they like to push your buttons, but I think they do it because they care. They just have a weird way of showing it.”

Damian hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment. “They’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Y/N said with a small shrug. “But they’re your family. And honestly, you’re kind of insufferable too.”

Damian’s eyes snapped back to hers, narrowing slightly. “Excuse me?”

Y/N grinned. “You heard me. But that’s okay. I guess I’m starting to get used to it.”

“Starting?” he asked, his tone laced with mock offense. “You’ve had plenty of time to adjust.”

“True,” she admitted. “But you’re a lot of work.”

Damian huffed, though there was no real anger behind it. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No,” Y/N said softly, her smile fading slightly. “But you need it.”

Part 20: A Subtle Shift

For a moment, the air between them grew heavy, charged with something unspoken. Damian held her gaze, his usual confidence replaced with a flicker of uncertainty. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Y/N said quietly. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, Damian. No matter how much you think you should.”

Damian swallowed hard, the vulnerability in her words hitting him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. “I don’t… trust people easily.”

“I know,” Y/N said. “And I don’t expect you to change overnight. But I’m here, okay? Whether you like it or not.”

Damian was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. “Thank you.”

Y/N smiled, the sincerity in his voice enough to warm her heart. “You’re welcome.”

Part 21: The Return to Chaos

The moment was short-lived, however. Before either of them could say anything more, the kitchen door swung open, and Dick poked his head out, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“There you are!” he said, his tone overly cheerful. “We were just about to come find you. Thought maybe you’d snuck off to—”

“Finish that sentence,” Damian interrupted, his voice icy, “and you’ll regret it.”

Dick held up his hands, feigning innocence. “Relax, little bro. Just wanted to say that Alfred made cookies, and we thought you two might want to join us.”

Part 22: Back to the Bat-Family Circus

“Why do I feel like this is a trap?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Dick.

Dick’s grin widened. “Oh, come on, Dami. Do you really think I’d set you up again after all this? I’m offended.”

Jason’s voice called from behind Dick. “You absolutely would.”

“Not helping, Jason,” Dick muttered before turning back to Damian and Y/N. “Look, cookies. Good vibes. No teasing—probably. Just come on.”

Y/N sighed, exchanging a glance with Damian. “It’s not like we’re going to get any peace out here anyway.”

“Tt. Fine,” Damian said begrudgingly, though his sharp gaze remained fixed on Dick. “But the first person to make a comment is going to regret it.”

“Noted,” Dick said with a salute. “No comments. Scout’s honor.”

Part 23: Cookies and Chaos

When Y/N and Damian entered the living room, Alfred was already setting out a tray of freshly baked cookies and tea. Jason was lounging on the couch, Tim and Stephanie were locked in a fierce battle over the last cushion, and Bruce sat in his armchair, reading a thick dossier as if none of this chaos was happening around him.

“Ah, Master Damian, Miss Y/N,” Alfred said warmly, gesturing to the tray. “You’re just in time. I saved a plate for you.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Y/N said, smiling as she took a cookie. “At least someone here knows how to be civilized.”

“You wound me,” Jason quipped, grabbing a cookie from the tray. “I’m always civilized.”

“That’s debatable,” Tim muttered, earning himself a glare from Jason.

As Y/N sat down on the edge of the couch, Damian stood awkwardly for a moment before settling into the seat next to her. The teasing eyes of his siblings immediately turned toward them, but a single sharp look from Damian kept them quiet—mostly.

“So,” Stephanie began innocently, “how’s everyone enjoying their evening?”

“Don’t,” Damian said warningly.

“What?” Stephanie asked, all wide-eyed innocence. “I’m just making conversation.”

Bruce lowered his dossier, glancing between them briefly. “I’m assuming this is related to whatever it was I walked in on earlier?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jason said with a smirk, earning a sharp kick from Y/N under the coffee table. “Ow! Violent much?”

“I said drop it,” Y/N said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Bruce sighed, closing the file. “I don’t need to know the details. But whatever this is,” he said, gesturing vaguely between Damian and Y/N, “just make sure it doesn’t distract from training. Or missions.”

Y/N and Damian both turned bright red, speaking at the same time.

“There’s nothing going on—”

“This isn’t a distraction—”

The overlapping denials only made the others laugh harder.

Part 24: A Moment of Calm

Eventually, Alfred’s cookies distracted the group long enough for the teasing to settle down. Y/N leaned back on the couch, exhaustion evident in her expression. “Your family is exhausting,” she muttered to Damian under her breath.

“I tried to warn you,” Damian replied, though there was a faint smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, well, I guess I can handle it,” Y/N said, taking another bite of her cookie. “But you owe me for this.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Owe you?”

“For putting up with all of this,” she said, gesturing toward his bickering siblings. “And for not letting me know what I was getting into when I started hanging out with you.”

“You should’ve known better,” Damian said, though there was an unusual softness in his voice.

Y/N glanced at him, her teasing smile fading slightly. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Maybe I should’ve.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything, the noise of the Bat-family fading into the background. Then Damian leaned slightly closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

Part 25: Nightfall and an Unlikely Arrangement

As the evening stretched on, Alfred appeared in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically apologetic. “Miss Y/N, I regret to inform you that the construction in your room will not be finished tonight. It appears the repairs were more extensive than anticipated.”

Y/N frowned, setting her teacup down. “Oh. That’s okay, Alfred. I can just crash on the couch.”

“Nonsense,” Bruce said, not looking up from his reading. “You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms.”

“Unfortunately, Master Bruce,” Alfred interjected, “the guest rooms are also undergoing renovations.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “What a shame. Guess you’re stuck with us, Y/N.”

“Don’t even think about it, Todd,” Damian snapped, his eyes narrowing.

“What, you’re volunteering to host?” Jason smirked, leaning back with a wicked grin. “That’s very generous of you, baby bird.”

Damian glared at him but didn’t respond. Y/N, sensing an argument brewing, sighed. “I’ll just sleep on the floor or something. It’s no big deal.”

“No,” Damian said abruptly. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised. Clearing his throat, he added more evenly, “You can stay in my room.”

The room went silent for a beat, and then Jason burst out laughing. “Oh, this is too good.”

“Quiet,” Damian snapped, his face slightly red. “There’s no need to make this a spectacle.”

Y/N hesitated, her own cheeks warming. “Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” Damian said firmly, standing and gesturing for her to follow. “Let’s go before they make this even more unbearable.”

Part 26: Sharing the Space

Damian’s room was surprisingly neat, the decor minimal but tasteful. A large bed with a black-and-green comforter dominated the space, and a few books and weapons were arranged meticulously on the shelves. Y/N glanced around, feeling slightly out of place.

“Your room is… very you,” she said, offering a small smile.

Damian shrugged, pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. “I prefer order.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Y/N teased, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So… where am I sleeping?”

Damian frowned, as if the question hadn’t occurred to him. “The bed, obviously.”

“And you?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The bed,” Damian said, crossing his arms. When Y/N gave him a skeptical look, he sighed. “It’s large enough for both of us. We’ll stay on opposite sides.”

“Alright,” Y/N said, kicking off her shoes and climbing under the covers. “But if you hog the blanket, I’m kicking you.”

“Tt. As if I would need to,” Damian muttered, sliding in on the other side of the bed.

The two lay in awkward silence for a while, the only sound the soft rustle of blankets. Y/N stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. Sharing a bed with Damian Wayne was not something she had ever anticipated. She glanced over at him, noticing how tense he seemed, his back rigid and his hands clasped over his stomach.

“Damian,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

“What?” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“Relax,” she said, smiling faintly. “I’m not going to bite.”

“Tt. That’s not what I’m concerned about,” he muttered.

“What are you concerned about?” Y/N asked, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him.

Damian turned his head slightly, his emerald eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and Y/N wondered if she’d pushed too far. Then, he sighed, his usual guarded expression softening.

Part 27: The Confession

“I’ve been avoiding this,” Damian admitted, his voice unusually vulnerable. “Because I don’t know how to say it.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Say what?”

Damian sat up slightly, leaning against the headboard. His hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket—an uncharacteristic sign of nervousness. “You’re important to me,” he said quietly. “More important than I thought anyone could be.”

Y/N blinked, her breath catching. “Damian…”

“I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with,” he continued, his gaze dropping to the blanket. “I’m stubborn , and I push people away because I’m afraid of letting them get too close. But with you… I don’t feel that way. I can’t push you away. I don’t want to.”

Y/N’s heart raced, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. Damian Wayne—stoic, guarded Damian—was opening up to her in a way she hadn’t expected. His vulnerability was both shocking and endearing. Slowly, she moved closer, her hand reaching for his, instinctively seeking connection.

“You don’t have to push me away,” she whispered, her voice soft but certain. “I’m not going anywhere, Damian. You don’t have to be afraid of that.”

Damian looked up at her, his eyes searching hers, a mix of longing and uncertainty swirling in them. “I’m not good with this,” he admitted, his voice low. “With… feelings. But I want you to know how much you mean to me. More than I’ve ever let anyone else in.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She reached up, gently cupping his face in her hands. The moment felt so intimate, so raw, that everything else in the world seemed to fade away. There were no distractions, no jokes from his siblings, no teasing from the others—just the two of them in this quiet space, holding each other in a way that was more meaningful than either of them had imagined.

“I care about you, Damian,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. “More than you know.”

Damian’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he leaned into her touch. For a brief, fleeting moment, it was as if the world had paused, leaving only the two of them in this fragile, perfect moment. Without another word, he leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he kissed her.

The kiss was tentative at first, both of them unsure, testing the waters, but as the seconds stretched on, it deepened. Damian’s hand gently cupped her neck, pulling her closer, and Y/N responded instinctively, her fingers threading through his hair. There was no rush, no urgency—just a quiet, intimate connection that felt like it had been building for longer than either of them realized.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other, neither of them spoke. The kiss had said everything that needed to be said. Damian, usually so careful with his emotions, had laid himself bare, and Y/N had met him halfway, offering him the one thing he feared most: acceptance.

“I don’t know what happens next,” Damian said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither do I,” Y/N replied, her voice equally soft, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, Damian allowed himself to believe that.

A/N - whooo!! that was a long one. i may or may not have been constipated writing this….

[vroomvroomintomyroom]

Phantom Troupe x Reader: Part 2 (One-on-One Therapy with the Phantom Troupe!!)

POV: A God or higher-being (who knows, really?) decides to reincarnate you, a clinical psychologist, into a strange, limbo-like void. Your mission? To reform the notorious Phantom Troupe and transform them into functional members of society. The only catch? You can't leave until they're reformed, and the Troupe is far from cooperative. And, even when the Troupe tries to kill you (which they will most certainly do) you've been gifted or cursed with the gift of infinite respawns—much to their annoyance.

(Y/n) sat in the middle of the void, which had conveniently transformed into what looked like a stereotypical therapist’s office—comfy armchair, tissue box on the coffee table, and a potted plant that was somehow thriving despite the lack of sunlight. Across from her, in another chair, sat Uvogin. He took up so much space he made the furniture look child-sized.

“So,” (Y/n) began, crossing her legs and holding a clipboard she’d conjured out of pure desperation to look professional. “Let’s talk about your emotions, Uvogin. What makes you angry?”

He blinked. “Everything.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little vague.”

“Well, stupid people make me angry,” he grunted. “And when I don’t get to punch things. Or when people talk too much, like you’re doing right now.”

“Interesting.” She scribbled something on her clipboard. Diagnosis: classic himbo rage. “Okay, let’s dig deeper. Why do you think you feel the need to resort to violence? Do you think it’s a way to express feelings you’re not comfortable verbalizing?”

Uvogin tilted his head. “Nah. I just like hitting people.”

[Y/n] stared at him. “...We’re going to need multiple sessions, I see.”

Next up was Machi. She sat stiffly in the chair, arms crossed, glaring daggers.

“You have to talk to me for this to work,” (Y/n) said, trying to sound both patient and professional.

Machi didn’t respond.

“Okay,” (Y/n) said, sighing. “What about trust issues? Would you say you have any?”

Machi finally spoke, her voice sharp. “Would you trust anyone if you worked with people like them?” She gestured vaguely toward the void, presumably at the rest of the Troupe.

“That’s fair,” (Y/n) admitted. “But have you ever considered how not trusting anyone might isolate you from forming meaningful connections?”

Machi leaned forward. “Have you ever considered how annoying you are?”

(Y/n) wrote on her clipboard. Might stab me. Note: hide scissors next session.

Then came Shalnark. He sat down with an easy smile, leaning back like he was enjoying himself.

“I’m an open book,” Shalnark said, grinning. “Ask me anything.”

(Y/n) smiled back, relieved to finally deal with someone cooperative. “Great! Let’s start with your childhood. What was it like growing up?”

“Normal,” he said casually. “Y’know, I had friends, played outside, hacked into government databases…”

Her pen froze mid-scribble. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, I mean, I got bored sometimes, so I thought, why not cause a little chaos? It was fun.” He shrugged, still smiling.

“...Okay,” she said slowly, trying to keep her tone neutral. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Accomplished,” he said, as if that was the obvious answer.

She wrote furiously. Criminal mastermind with zero guilt. Possible sociopath. HELP.

Her session with Feitan was somehow worse.

He sat in complete silence, staring at her with an intensity that made her palms sweat.

“So,” she began nervously, “would you say your preferred method of coping is…torture?”

He tilted his head slightly, like a bird studying prey.

“Not judging,” she added quickly, holding up her hands. “Just…an observation.”

More silence.

“Okay,” she said, flipping through her notes to fill the void. “Let’s talk about your hobbies. Do you have any interests outside of, um, interrogating people?”

Feitan finally spoke, his voice low and quiet. “I like swords.”

She perked up. “That’s great! Hobbies are a healthy outlet. Have you ever considered channelling that interest into something less…violent? Like fencing or crafting decorative blades?”

He squinted at her, unimpressed.

She scribbled on her clipboard. Does not respond to Pinterest ideas. Abort mission.

Finally, it was Hisoka’s turn. He practically sauntered into the room, plopping down on the couch like he owned it.

(Y/n) immediately regretted everything.

“So, Hisoka,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady. “What brings you joy?”

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Oh, so many things. But right now? You.”

She put the clipboard in front of her face like a shield. “Okay, moving on. Let’s talk about boundaries.”

“I don’t have any.”

“...I’ve noticed.”

She scribbled furiously. File restraining order. Wait, does limbo have courts?

By the time she finished the first round of sessions, (Y/n) collapsed onto the couch, exhausted.

The voice reappeared, smug as ever. “Progress already?”

“Progress?” she snapped. “I deserve hazard pay for this.”

“Don’t give up!” the voice chirped. “You’re doing great. Only…forever to go.”

(Y/n) groaned, throwing her clipboard across the void.

[free-to-be-no-one-but-mee]

WIP Whenever

tagged by @dear-massacre <3 finally back to writing a lil so this is real fun but also... i have enough to have to debate WHAT to put here!!!!! finally settled on this which is from the beginning of my next fic

Before he’s even fully conscious, he knows he’s in the hospital. He sits up before he opens his eyes, and then the urge to get away is trumped by the pain. He yelps and sucks in a breath.  “Hey—”  The word is so loud, Stiles slams his bandaged hands against his ears. He can hear too much anyway: the scrape of a chair, a scissor cutting a bandaid, packaging being ripped open, shuffling feet, low voices, machines beeping, machine whirring, hair swaying, breaths, bowel movements, heartbeats.  He throws his eyes up and stares at Derek’s chest, his heartbeat thrumming loudly and he knows it’s his, but because he’s wearing one of those stupid henleys, he can confirm it with the tiny vibrations that make the fabric move with each beat. He closes his eyes again and wills it all away, this isn’t happening, this isn’t real, he can’t hear any of it, and with a screech like a car going 100 to 0, all sound sweeps up and goes back to normal. He takes a deep breath through his nose and… antiseptic, feet sweat, candy worms, green banana, puss, gravel, grass, orchids, blood. “No,” he says and shakes his head, then all of him is shaking.  “Stiles.” He stills, breath heavy, his machine screaming.  “It just took. You’re still hurt. You must be still.”  What does he mean, took? Nothing can take because Derek sure as fuck didn’t turn him. “I hate you,” Stiles whispers as he lies back down, a stabbing pain in his back jolting him before he feels Derek’s hand on his arm, soaking up the worst of it.  “Yeah, okay.” Stiles hadn’t realized just how much his body was hurting before Derek started draining it away and when he stops a few moments later, panting and breathing heavily, it all hits him so fast and hard he screams.  “They’re going to give you medication.” Derek’s voice, a whisper in his ear but from far away. “It’s not going to work.”

low pressure tagging @primruesabcd

[isthisfree]

WIP Wednesday

Obi-Wan had learned to crochet, not knit, when he was seven years old. A visiting Master had been assigned to the creche and thought it would be a good skill to teach the younglings. They had been told it could help their fine motor skills, patience, and perseverance. Obi-Wan now thinks the Master should have added restraint to the list. Over the years Obi-Wan has had to restrain himself from buying every shade and variation of yarn he comes across, restrain himself from taking on too many projects or giving unrealistic deadlines to his friends’ requests, and the hardest one of all, restrain himself from taking his crochet hook and stabbing every single person, who no matter how often they have been corrected, still calls it knitting, right in their apparently useless eye. 

Obi-Wan eyed the hook in his hand, and mused that he could probably pop someone’s eyeball right out of their socket if he was so inclined, but luckily for the uncultured masses he could control his more murderous impulses. If he became truly irked though, he could always sic Anakin on them. His former Padawan would probably relish an opportunity to maim someone with a crochet hook. And what kind of Master would Obi-Wan be if he didn’t provide fun and enriching experiences from time to time? 

He looked up from the blanket he was working on for Ahsoka and caught sight of his reflection in the window. Blast. He was smiling, again. Obi-Wan forced himself to frown and turn his thoughts away from Anakin and back to the blanket for his Grand-Padawan. It had been happening more and more lately, his mind would betray him. Whenever Obi-Wan’s thoughts began to drift they would inevitably land on Anakin.

That in and of itself wouldn't be so bad, nothing to get worked up about. Anakin is an important - the most important really, part of his life. Of course he thinks about him! The issue was that his thoughts were becoming less and less...platonic in nature. But he reasoned, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were romantic thoughts or…lustful thoughts. No. There has to be a level between purely platonic and romantic, right? He shook his head. Best not to dwell, ignorance is bliss and all that. 

Obi-Wan tugged on his yarn. It didn’t budge. He signed. Of course his yarn was tangled. How could he expect anything to go smoothly when his own mind was such a mess. Meditation had not given him his usual amount of comfort. And why would it? His face twisted with self loathing. Of course he couldn’t successfully give his feelings for Anakin, because if he was honest they are romantic feelings, to the force, if deep down he didn’t want to let them go. He was a failure of a Jedi, a Master, and a friend. 

He pushed the blanket aside. He might need to scrap this project all together and start from scratch. Qui-Gon had always maintained that the recipients of gifts such as these could sense what the maker was feeling as they worked. Obi-Wan never really believed Qui-Gon, but he had never received a handmade blanket, scarf, poncho, or stuffed animal to test the theory. He was properly horrified though at even the smallest chance that poor Ahsoka might pick up on his inappropriate feelings. He would rather burn it to ash than have that happen. 

Ok, definitely time to take of break if he is contemplating arson. Obi-Wan stood and picked up the half finished blanket and his supplies, carefully storing them away in the custom caf table Anakin had made for him. It was full of drawers and compartments, big and small, designed to hold his yarn, hooks, stitch markers, scissors, really anything he could ever need for a project. Obi-Wan slowly ran his hand over the top of the table, before snatching it away. This was truly getting pathetic. Trying to sense his Padawan’s potential feelings for him from furniture. If this wasn’t rock bottom, Obi-Wan didn’t want to know what was. 

He needed to get out of their apartment, get his body moving and quite his mind. Obi-Wan clipped on his saber and headed out the door, his feet pointing him in the direction of the training salles. If this just happened to be the time that Anakin usually tended to be there himself, well that was just a coincidence, nothing more.

[er9tic]

innocence robbed, bruised youth

bartylus microfic / one - shot ( 1.3k words )

tw : mentions of abuse ( past tense ) inflicted on barty from crouch snr . this is the aftermath of an instance of it. a fresh wound is described. proceed with caution.

Barty Crouch Jr had shaved his head one time in his life. It was in middle school, when he had mistakenly gotten some sort of gum stuck in his hair. A fight had gone loose, between him and the other. Swinging arms and fists to the face, blinding impacts and splotches of thick crimson staining the ground when they spit. Barty lost a tooth too, though it needed to come out eventually, he’d still lost the tooth to someone else. He wondered if the tooth fairy would collect this one, knowing the violent way it had come out. Was she like Santa with teeth? Judged the worth of a tooth based on its origin? Would he go on the naughty list and have his financial reward cut down?

Students made fun of him for his hair— and likely his missing tooth too. There was a huge gap in the front that he found irritatingly sensitive. Until he got used to the way he could fit food through the hole and spit water out through the gap. It disgusted his friends, but made for a pretty good laugh at the end of the day. But Barty almost never did sit comfortable with his missing head of hair. The blonde mop down to a stubbly layer that shaped his head and the colour blended right into his fair skin— so he basically looked bald if someone didn’t stare long enough to tell the difference. He felt rather insecure about it, and the prickly sensation reminded him of his grandfather. He always was softer under the influence, his laughter a cracking thunder as he pressed his stubbled cheek to Barty’s young face, the six year old whining with stabbing discomfort.

Barty hadn’t shaved his head since. Hadn’t gone near the utensil his mother used on him in years after that. Sure, scissors were the exception. Neat and precise trims to the end to keep his hair from growing too long. The thing about it was that it usually grew upwards, rather than downwards the way Severus’ did. Sometimes he envied that boy— for his hair only, nothing else struck envious. But now Barty stands before the mirror of his bathroom, eyes drained of all innocence taking in the looks of him. A sight he knew would stick for a while, and rouse questions difficult to answer too. Though occurrences such as this were rare, Barty still felt it daunting going through them. Not the aching aftermath of a violent brawl with his father, but the emotional aspect— the exhaustion. The stress of having to avoid questions too probing for his liking, brewing excuses of all sorts, an intricate structure of lies that Barty has to keep up with so as not to have his strength and manpower questioned. The horrifying truth discovered and that too facing the tragic end of abuse.

Regulus enters the bathroom not long after and places the muggle utensil down on the marble countertop. If Barty let him have his way, he’d have used an enchanted one and be done with the damn task. But that was the problem— enchantment. Magic. He’d had enough of it all. Shortcuts and cheats and entrusting magic to control him further. Barty needed away from it all, and it began with this.

“Are you sure about this?” Regulus asks, caution firm in his voice.

Barty nods quickly. He doesn’t need to contemplate any further. “Just get it over and done with, Reg.” Regulus just eyes him, almost like he’s unconvinced. It makes sense, he had to deal with Barty’s whining when he last shaved his head. “Please.”

With a heavy sigh, Regulus plugs the utensil into the wall and assesses it in his hand. Turning it and brushing his hand over the buttons. They’d spent an hour going back and forth on whether to use it or not. Brainstorming the best ways to tackle a wound buried deep between his hair. It needed stitching, or a salve— some form of treatment to stop the bleeding Barty’s father had started. But everytime Regulus attempted to push aside the matted strands, Barty would hiss or flinch in a way that scared Regulus himself, startling him into a jump. Both of them are far too delicate to wing the matter. On one hand, Barty was still fresh out from the incident, an injured animal shaking from its scare. On the other, Regulus was scared of inflicting more of what Barty had endured today. Had been hesitant to tend to his wounds with trembling fingers if not for the fact that Barty asked for him. Regulus knew loneliness all too well to let him wallow in it.

Barty bites his tongue at the sharp pricks to his head, the ache growing when Regulus moves the locks away delicately. The machine vibrates in Regulus’ hand, and the two jump in surprise. It’s loud, almost cruel with the way it beckons a full head of hair. He catches the bob in Regulus’ throat, nerve wracking and hesitant when he approaches the tool to the front edges of Barty’s head.

It’s one simple glide. The flat base of the blade to Barty’s forehead, gliding upwards and all the way through the shape of his scalp. It tears apart the collected formation of raven curls, and Barty watches them scatter all around him. Snowfall on a joyous field. Tears to a wooden deck.

Regulus stops at the conclusion of just one line. Almost like he’s asking for more permission to continue. But Barty stares at his reflection, his head full save but the one line that divided his head into two.

“Well?”

Barty’s eyes drag to his reflection, the pang of guilt already forming. His lips drew thin. Starting. Familiarising. Forcing the inkling of dissatisfaction all the way back. You took this from me. This is all your fault. “There’s no going back now.”

“I can just summon a growth spell—“

“No!” Barty shot almost immediately. The flinch in Regulus made his shoulders drop, his incessant protectiveness tumbling down the second his best friend resonates with the state of him outside this bathroom. He softens up again, pulling through the bad habit of defensiveness. “Just … no magic. Please, no magic.”

It was a kind of begging neither of them had heard before. The ones Barty recalls would plead for forgiveness or for cracking whips of Senior’s hands to relent. It made him sulk, his eyes remaining downcast. Voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want any magic on me.”

Not anymore. No more spells or hexes or curses to take place. No more magic to cheat their way into something. Barty needed something real, practical, done with the trust of hands and someone’s own work. Denying the fate of the outcome to be left to the hands of magic. He wanted far from that— the binding wizardry.

Regulus doesn’t protest. The electric shaver buzzing back to life when he presses the button and resumes the gentle strokes to his scalp, traces them along the curvature of his head. He’s far more gentle when he approaches the gash. It’s tender, raw, and pulsates rapidly the more he panics at the blades nipping sensitive flesh. It tingles, and Regulus works cautiously around the area. Doesn’t dare to use a numbing spell, or anything else to protect it.

The pain remains, but Barty pushes through. Because that’s real. It’s controllable and Barty endures it. Hisses but doesn’t jerk away. No longer would he near magic for a good while. No longer would he cast a spell, or approach his wand. As his past identity scatters in a ring around who he is now, Barty grieves with silent tears and sniffles. Heavy breaths and reddening features. Regulus doesn’t look at him once, allows him the space and privacy to remain vulnerable and mourn what once was, and what now will be. Innocence robbed, bruised youth.

[thegrimdog13]

Scream Stuilly Playlist

(long Version)

Heyyyy Stuilly fans! Today I will be sharing all the songs on my Stuilly playlist and the reason I chose them! As well as individual Billy and Stu ones since they still have Stuilly moments or reasons! The personal ones are also more descriptive. If there are repeats in the combined and personal playlist I won’t explain all of them but for some I will! Anyways enjoy! And let me know if you want more of these types of things! Because I will be doing more Stuilly! ( I will also have a short version with just the songs and no descriptions if you don’t want to read all this crap lol)

Stuilly playlist-

•I Love You Hoe by Odetari & 9lives-

This one is very Stu coded lol. But there are some points I think fit Billy. I think definitely the most of it has a lot of Stu elements especially the “Ain’t nobody taking you away from me ,baby, I promise “ but the parts were it says “Ain’t nobody here that could say that I did you wrong” sounds like a very condescending Billy. Basically saying well nobody can say that I used you. In a way to manipulate Stu. I feel like he would say something like that. Also the line “ Ain’t nobody gonna put up with your shit the way I done” sounds kinda like both of them in a way in the fake that Billy probably thinks that Stu is a goofball and to jokey which he is. And Stu in a way where he thinks maybe Billy doesn’t treat him the nicest but he’ll still stay around unlike everybody else. Either way this is a very Stuilly coded song! Also used in the Scream’d musical kissing edit lol.

•if I killed someone for you by Alec Benjamin

Self explanatory very Stu coded 

•Partners in Crime by Set it off-

Welp they are partners in crime and uhhh yeah that’s all I got for this one.

•Mary on a cross by Ghost-

Honestly very just them coded but the part where it says “your beauty never ever scared me” is basically a Stu kinda line where he is basically like well it never scared me that you were an intense psychopath. Lol

•Shut Me Up by Mindless Self-indulgence-

Hmmmmm Stu being Stu honestly

•Psycho Killer by taking heads-

Need I say moreeeee

•The Red means I love you by Madds Buckley-

Well just like.. guess.. the stabbing… come on.

•Highschool sweetheart by Melanie Martinez-

Billy being umm Billy to be honest. Basically I think of it as him telling Stu that if he fucks up he’s done and also his requirements for you know… Stuilly Shit.

•Play Date by Melanie Martinez-

Stu got a bit over zealous . It’s giving Stu being upset being Billy isn’t giving him enough attention.

•You know what they do to guys like us in prison by my chemical romance-

Well….. “we are just to men as god had made up” and uh that’s all I can think of lol but I feel like it’s kinda Stuilly no liiieee

•Teeth by 5 seconds of summer-

The toxic Stuilly love lol

•Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo- 

Stu coded. He feels kinda betrayed .

•I can’t decide by Scissor Sisters-

So it’s giving Billy’s plan was to kill Stu the whole time but isn’t sure about actually getting rid of him.

•Love Me Dead by Ludo-

Stu coded . He’s a likes pain and very much loves Billy and will do anything for him basically  even if it kills him.

•Our love is God from Heathers-

Just themmmmmmmm other then that partttttt lol

•Creep by Radiohead-

So Stu loving Bill lol

•Everybody by Backstreet Boys - 

Ummm well just you know  Scream’d the musical! 

•It took me by surprise by Maria Mena-

Billy Coded. Manipulating Stu like a girl boss. But uh… Stu got pushed to Far??

•Red Right Hand by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds- 

Well it would be a crime not to include this song.. wouldn’t it.

•Big Fun in Heathers-

Well guys.. come on one of Stu’s parties basically. 

•SIMP by Full Tac, Lil Mariko , & Rico Nasty-

Welll…. Very Billy coded. What can I say he wants Stu to worship him.

•Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon-

Stu coded. Gives Stu vibes. Makes me think about him and Tatum but also him and Billy. I don’t knoowww. But the rehearsing what to say makes me think of him thinking what to say to Tatum each day. And the one about “I’m the right one” makes me think of Stu telling Billy he chose the right guy to help him.

•Favorite (slowed + reverb) by Dark Academia & Brown eyed Girl-

Stu wanting to be Billy’s favorite  obviously

•All I wanted by Paramore-

All Stu wanted was Billy he didn’t care about anything else but Billy was just focused on getting his revenge.

•Crazy Girls by TOOPOOR-

I’m sorry all of these are giving Stu lol but so is this one. Stu is kinda crazy if you haven’t noticed. There are many times that Billy shuts him down when he is getting a little too jokey about the murder they totally didn’t commit. This really resonates with the line in the song “ Said he likes crazy girls, but he hates when I act crazy “

•Happy Together by The Turtles-

This one could go either way. Either with Stu wanting to be with Billy obviously. But it could also be Billy trying to convince Stu that all this can happen if he just does what he wants.

•Hug Me from despicable me-

Very much Stu trying to cheat up Billy or just Stu in general lol 

•Coming Undone by Korn-

Just the vibe you know . 

•Word Up! By Korn-

Just feels very Stu.

•Narcissistic Cannibal by Korn-

I feel like this is how Stu thinks Billy is .

•I Kissed a Boy by Jupither-

Could literally be either of them lol lyrics explain it all. But I think this is more of a Billy one just because he calls it a game.

•Ghostface by Aaron Fraser-Nash-

Well i don’t think this one needs any explanation at all.

•Absolutely Anything by CG5-

The male part is definitely Stu with the need to complete and do anything for Billy. While the girl part is definitely Billy with the orders. Yes I know it’s an Alice Angel song but guyssss….

•You’re the One I Want from Grease-

Well I think it’s obvious that in this case Billy would be the girl part and Stu the boy. This whole song is kinda giving Billy wants Stu to “shape up” basically he wants Stu to be serious about the killing and stuff like that. And Stu is just like yes most definitely I’ll do anything. Lol

•Casual by Chappell Roan-

This is very Stu coded on how he feels about Billy. I feel like Billy is always in denial about how he feels. Or he is kinda using Stu and Stu is just like why the heck are you doing this to me. Because Billy probably just wanted to mess with Stu for variety lol. But Stu was like I love him. 

Okay this is were we get to songs that repeat but there are also some different ones as well :

Billy’s Playlist-

•Ghostface by Aaron Fraser-Nash-

This song in general is more Billy then Stu by the way he talks and at one part it literally says you can’t blame Stu it’s his own house but make no excuse for Billy. And when it does make an excuse for Billy he used first person descriptors. But in general I like to think that the song just switches between povs. 

•Come As You Are by Nirvana-

This vibe just screams Billy to me to be honest the sound and vibe. The tone of voice just everything is going him. But specifically the “As I want you to be” kind of shows Billy’s controlling nature. As well as the line we’re it says “and I swear that I don’t have a gun” makes me think of how he is always manipulating people to think he isn’t the killer.

•Psycho Killer by Talking heads-

I mean come on it has his vibe and it’s about a killer and the lyrics just him written all over it.

•High school Sweethearts by Melanie Martinez-

Has his slow talking feel and gives obvious Stuilly vibes. Manipulation and power very Billy.

•American Horror Show by SNOW WIFE-

Well I mean come on guys. First of all the title and the part about “ I’m a monster” really works as well as the part  “I like when you piss me off “ reminds me of him and Stu lol.

•Mama by My Chemical Romance-

Well his mom obviously. There both crazy and it just seems like he’s talking beyond the grave because it’s giving him talking about what she ends up doing.

•Arms Tonite by Mother Mother-

Just feels like Billy to be honest. But definitely kinda like a ghost situation after he got absolutely merked. 

•Every Breath You Take by Chase Holfelder-

This is definitely Billy towards all his victims ever. Definitely kinda reminds me of Sidney. But also if you want a Stuilly reason it could be that too. Maybe Billy is trying to read Stu make sure he stays by his side and also so Stu doesn’t  joke around too much. 

•Smells Like Teen Spirt by Nirvana- 

It’s just giving Billy.

•Mama’s Boy ( Apple Music live ) by Dominic Fike -

Well..he’s a mama boy so… 

•The Red Means I love you-

It’s giving when Stu and Billy were stabbing eachother.

•The Search by NF-

It’s just giving Billy. Especially the part that says last year I had a breakdown which makes me think of when Him and Stu killed Sidney’s mom the year before committing many murders .

•SIMP by Full Tac, Lil Mariko , & Rico Nasty-

Well… here we are again. I have a feeling that Billy likes when Stu puts him above everyone else. He wants Stu to think of him as the best thing ever and lucky for him he probably does. 

•(Don’t  Fear) The Reaper version by Peirce the Veil-

Because it’s his song in his scene with Sidney but edgier lol

Stu Macher playlist-

My Room by Insane Clown Posse-

I could probably write something for about all these lines to give you reason this is a Stu song. But honestly just listen to it! Like literally “ I can’t ignore you” “ do anything for you” “I do adore you”  also “ I’ll do anything for thee, don’t ignore me” “This is more then a sick love story” not to mention “Without you I’d bring a shotgun to school,and I will if want me to, for any reason.” It’s  all just screaming Stu 

•My Axe by Insane Clown Posse-

It’s just giving the right amount of craziness. Stu is off the rails like this song. So.. yeaaaa

•Play Date by Melanie Martinez-

Stu is always the one trying to please Billy but Billy never returns the favor. Stu just does anything without question but in his mind he has doubts… but it feels so good to be with Billy how could anything be wrong???? He really is clueless and is easily gaslight

•Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez-

Well he’s crazy what else can I say. And man gets drunk  and also probably high all the time. And this song gives the right amount of trippy and Killer.

•Carousel by Melanie Martinez-

It’s giving the same vibe as Play Date with how he always is the one chasing after Billy’s affection. And he feels like he has to stay no matter what.

•Dangerous by Big Data 

I mean he’s an idiot and goofy how would you ever suspect himmmm ( he’s very obviously lol. But I think that in the movie the point is to kinda overwhelm us with Billy being guilty that you see no other red flags in anyone else)

•Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People- 

This uh… just feels right

•Hokus Pocus by Insane Clown Posse -

Their songs just have the right amount of energy and crazy for Stu what can I say.

•Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus-

Just uh yea. The sound of the song gives the vibes and everything just yeaaa.

•You Get Me so High by The Neighborhood-

Mhmmmmmmm yea just like listen to it to be honest and make your own judgement.

•Insane In the Brain by Cypress Hill-

You know he’s just Insane so…

•If I killed Someone for You by Alec Benjamin-

Stu changing himself for Billy.

•Romantic Homicide by d4vd-

It makes me think of Stu’s ongoing struggle with Billy not getting as eager love as he gives to Billy and not understanding it.

•An unhealthy obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra-

Stu’s overwhelming obsession with Billy 

•I was made for lovin’ you by Kiss-

Well isn’t it obvious. He was made for loving Billy lol ( I says Lol way to much but I’m trying to get across I’m not completely serious . guys I’m sorry lol)

•Destroy me by Mr. Kitty-

If someone is going to kill and hurt him he wants it to be Billy . And if he’s honest he likes the idea. 

•Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon- 

it’s giving fun and silly Stu vibes and it mentions phones so it must be perfect lol

•Paparazzi version by Kim Dracula-

Part 1000000000000000000 of Stu being obsessed with Billy .

•You know what they to guys like us in prison by my chemical romance- 

Well… gay…and uh.. just yea..

•I love you hoe by Odetari & 9lives-

THE STUILLY SCREAM’D SONG!!!

•Cake by Melanie Martinez-

Part 100000000000 of Stu being used by Billy

•All I wanted by Paramore-

All he wanted was Billy to love him..

•Hug Me by Pharrell Williams & Trey Parker -

It gives Stu’s chaotic energy.

•Word Up! By Korn- 

It’s giving skater boy , high, drunk, and chaotic Stu.

•Narcissistic Cannibal by Korn-

Stu wants to please Billy but in his head he often regrets doing things Billy’s way. Don’t get him wrong he loves killing but something about the way Billy treats him just isn’t right.. something isn’t right.

•I/Me/ Myself by Will Wood-

Again me saying this just gives Stu. And him wishing he could be a “girl” so him and Billy could be together in public even though Stu loves being a guy and is not really the “woman” in the relationship because there is no such thing lol.

•2Escond 2lght 2Eer by Will Wood-

“The devil made me do it, but I also kinda wanted to” is giving Stu saying it was peer pressure when he just wanted to do it lol. And the rest of it is him too honestly lol.

•MASOCHIST by Ellise- 

Well it just makes sense doesn’t it.

•You Ruined Me by The Veronicas-

Stu’s dramatic ass about what happened and how Billy used him and always will. ( not saying the original song is being dramatic I’m sure the song is based off of really sad stuff but I’m saying if it was Stu’s song it would be for dramatics rather then real hurt even though he would be a little hurt)

•Youth of America by Birdbrain-

It’s in the movie and it gives Stu energy 

•Scrum On Your Shoe by Jake Webber-

Yup…. Stu is a simp and thinks Billy is the greatest thing ever while he sucks. So yea.. 

Thanks all guys I’m so sorry for all the just boring shit and the lols constantly. I will be uploading the song list with no content stuff to make it easier if you don’t want to go through this thing over again to find out what songs are where or whatever .

[wisteria-winter]

Greetings all!

Just want to start by informing that I am AroAce, on the repulsed side of things with no drive at all, and I'd think that Alastor is quite the same (or I guess that is more my head cannon of things). So, I'm quite curious if there are any fanfics that explores that?

Or more specifically, if there are any that really go into how uncomfortable he'd be when it comes to things regarding romance and intimacy. Like, is there any writing in which Alastor is asked to hold hands and all he wants to do in response is to stab his hand with a pair of scissors? Or one in which he's offered a kiss and just wants to peel the top layer of his tongue of?

We all haven't forgotten he's a murderer, right?

So, wouldn't it be interesting if his visceral reactions were quite gruesome? He might not act on them, for he is a gentleman after all, but that doesn't change fact that they exist.

Just imagen, one thinks of flowers and sunsets, while the other thinks of blood and broken bones. I think it would be a really fun read.

Like ideas for things that could happen are endless! Just imagen someone asking for his hand and that's all he gives them. He just cuts of his hand and hands it over to them.

"Here you go my dear, though I can hardly see what use you'd have for it."

Which I feel could be a part of why he likes cannibal town. For if they ask for his hand and he gives it, they actually appreciate the gesture. All others just seem to throw it to the side in horror. He does find joy in that reaction too, but it's nice when people actually mean what they say.

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There is also the idea that Rosie might have, in the beginning, tried to gauge if he had any interest in her. Just a way to figure out his possible motives. Which would then be the reason for how she can be so sure that he's (Aro)Ace.

One fun thing might also be that she sees his tail and comments on how adorable it is, and him being him, just rips it off.

"Well, that makes one of us." He says giving it to her. "So, you can have it my dear."

The best part would then be that she'd invite him for dinner and have it as a centrepiece, making a great meal with the theme of adorable.

"Isn’t this adorable?" She'd ask with a smile.

"You've quite outdone yourself, my dear Rosie." He'd say with a sigh, putting his cutlery down. "Yes, it's very adorable." To which she would be quite delighted, and he'd just smile at her reaction, she's a good friend.

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And if he does have a drive, what if he dislikes it?

Like in his mind he has rules that should be followed and if his body decides to break those rules, then there will be consequences. One might be to bite the arm, creating a sensation that is far more prominent, a distraction of sort.

Then if the arm 'accidentally' comes of, the only logical choice is to use it for dinner. (Though it could also be eaten as is, I'd guess)

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All this to ask, Does anyone know a story of that sort?

Honestly, it doesn't even have to be from Hazbin.

If there exists a repulsed AroAce character whose response to any advances are thoughts of the gruesome kind, then I’d be really delighted to read that ᵔᵜᵔ

I just feel that it falls very nicely into Alastor’s character to have that sort of response, (while still remaining composed, of course).