#photoshop needs to be taken away from me

[cxncrie-a]

@fearedelight

[ozzgin]

In the post mentioning flashing horny mantis there was meet and greet. I have a question how other monsters would behave in meet and greet (assuming that they will show up)

(Sorry for my English ;^;)

Also I love your work

POV: Your monster followers meeting you

content: gender neutral reader, mentions of stalking

LizardKing5 vehemently denies his attendance in the chatroom. "What, you think you're some celebrity?" he types, claiming he has better things to do than follow around some pathetic human.

Coincidentally, he's the first monster to greet you, standing tall at the very front of the queue.

"Whatever," he'll mumble, pulling out his merch and shaking your hand with feigned indifference. "I just happened to be in the area."

"What were you even doing before this," you ask, raising your eyebrows at the enormous backpack looming behind him.

Is that camping gear?

His clawed, scaly hand quickly ruffles your hair. Mind your damn business.

SharkMan is rather polite and reserved in his mannerisms. Don't misunderstand, he truly is excited to see you again, but he'd rather not add more to your plate. Besides, if we count the milestone event, he's already gotten way more than a handshake from you.

"Are you staying hydrated?" he asks, placing a bag of goodies on your table. "Here's something to eat during your break."

You smile and thank him for the thoughtful gesture. Hard to believe the same monster left you nearly crippled after a night together. You're sitting on the same cushion you needed for weeks after the affair.

DefNotAStalker will show up just to mess with you. He's watched you prepare for the event, he carefully observed you getting dressed; hell, he even ironed your outfit the night before! You swear the shirt had wrinkles last time you checked.

He'll shake your hand with an innocent grin and ask for an autograph. He's picked the perfect photo for it: to the unaware, it looks like a blurry print screen taken during one of your livestreams. In reality, he cheekily snapped it while hanging right above you, off-screen. You sign it with a chuckle.

"Thank you for coming, it was such a tiring week for me," you say, lowering yourself back in your seat.

"I can imagine. I hope the apartment complex will fix it soon."

You nod, distracted, and the monstrous creature slithers away.

Wait, did you ever even mention this to your followers?

Y/NSimp is elated to meet you. He's been carefully planning this for months, constantly daydreaming about the fateful encounter. His bag is filled to the brim with the required equipment: a fat stack of love letters, a marriage certificate, Photoshopped photos of the two of you together, an engagement ring, and a list of potential names for your future children.

He can already see it: he'll hand you the bag and the flowers, and you'll gasp, surprised by his romantic gesture. You never thought someone would care this much. Without hesitation, you jump into his arms, and promptly cancel the rest of the event. You'll be too busy with your husband-to-be.

Unfortunately, he has omitted one vital detail in his elaborate schemes: the correct address of the meet and greet. By the time he reaches the actual location, the doors are closed and the venue empty.

[Monster Streaming Series] | [Meet and Greet Part 1]

[vivwritesfics]

Fire Is The Devil's Only Friend

Chapter Three

There was no such thing as making it on your own with a high profile boyfriend. That was why she kept her relationship a secret. But then after a PR fuck up, her boyfriend is forced into PR relationship and she's left on the side lines, missing him

1.2K

Series Masterlist

The story broke on the day her first book was published. Carlos couldn't help but feel rather sick every time she looked at her phone.

But she remained blissfully unaware for the entire day. By the end of the day, after the story had been out for a number of hours, it felt too late. Carlos went to bed that night with guilt plaguing him. His touch was hesitant as she shuffled across the bed, towards him.

She would have liked to find out from Carlos. Not during her first book signing. It was the weekend after her book came out and, as much as Carlos wanted to be there, he was at a race.

He texted her before the race began, just before the start of the signing. The lights went green at the race track as the doors to the book store opened, and people holding copies of her book walked in.

Person after person walked up to her table. She signed the inside of the book with a polite smile and sent them on their way.

That was until a girl in a Ferrari shirt came walking up to her table. She took notice of it right away. "I can't believe you're here instead of watching the race," she said through a laugh as she took the book from the young ferrari fan.

"Oh em gee!" The ferrari fan cried. "You watch Formula One? What team do you support?"

She let out a small laugh as she signed the inside of the book. To A wonderful Tifosi. "Ferrari, of course," she said as she placed her signature on the page.

"Who is your favourite driver? If you don't mind me asking, that."

She shook her head. "That's more than fine. I'm actually a Carlos Sainz fan," she said and slid the book back across the table.

"Oh! I can't believe he's finally taken, though. It feels like he was single forever."

The world stilled around her. Her heartbeat sped up and she gripped her pen so tight it almost shattered in her hand. The Ferrari fan thanked her and took her book as she walked away from the table. Before anybody else could approach she called one of the bookstore employees Iver. "I need five minutes," she said as she stood up from her seat.

The employee placed a sign on the table and directed her towards the back of the bookstore. Through the doors and out into the alleyway was the employee smoking area.

As soon as she was outside, she pulled her phone from her pocket. She couldn't text Carlos, not while he was driving. Instead she took to her personal instagram, the one with thirty followers. Her feed was full of F1 posts. Ever since she met Carlos she began following the sport, filling her private social media with anything she could find.

One of the first posts was a picture of Carlos leaving a night club. She'd been there that night, but she hadn't danced with him, hadn't left with him. It was enough being close to him.

The woman beside him was a stranger, though, photoshopped into the picture. She knew for a fact that she hadn't been in the club that night, hadn't left with Carlos, who drove straight to their apartment, to meet her there and fuck her.

Rebecca Donaldson. It was a name she didn't recognise. A quick goggle search turned up very little information about the woman. The most she could find was articles wondering who 'Carlos Sainz's new flame' was.

But she wasn't Carlos's new flame. Carlos didn't have a new flame. He had her. He'd had her for an entire year now.

Wearing a brave face, she returned to the signing.

Normally, after the race she'd immediately be on her phone, texting Carlos. He couldn't remember the last time he checked his phone after a race and she hadn't texted him.

This time, she couldn't wait to text him after her signing. Congratulate him on a great race and tell him all about it. This was before the signing actually happened.

Carlos checked his phone after the race, ready to read texts from her. But there were gone. He had texts from friends, from family, but not from her.

Carlito 💕💕

Are you awake, cariño?

Read

Huh, that was odd. She looked at the message the moment he sent it, but she didn't reply. A horrible, awful feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

But Carlos wore a brave face. He pushed on with things, got on with it until he could get home to her.

He was quiet on the plane ride back. Those he was sharing the private jet with noticed, but they didn't say anything. Every time he checked his phone, they assumed he was messaging his new girlfriend. He really wasn't.

Carlos made his way straight home. He pushed his key into the door and twisted, pushing it open.

The house was quiet, eerily so. "Cariño? Are you there?" Carlos called.

Nothing.

Grabbing his bags, he started towards the bedroom. "Y/N?" Carlos called as he walked inside. But still, she wasn't there. Dropping his bags, Carlos started searching.

He found her in her office,tapping away at her computer. "Ah, there you are," he said as he walked towards her.

Carlos went to wrap his arms around her where she sat, but she stood. She stood up and walked away from him. "Cariño, is everything all right?"

Her jaw was set, hands crossed over her chest as she stared at him. "Carlos, I'm going to ask you this once. Are you cheating on me?"

Carlos felt the colour drain from his face. "Mi amor, no!" He cried as he rushed towards her. He went to cup her face between his hands, but she moved away.

"Who the fuck is Rebecca Donaldson?"

"Shit," he hissed. He'd fucked up, big time. "Cariño, please, you've got to listen to me," he said. "They threatened me with my seat! I haven't met her, I don't know her and I don't love her."

Tears sprang to her eyes and she sank down the wall. "What the fuck is going on, Carlos? I thought you loved me. I thought you were gonna..." she sniffed and wiped at her nose. "Do you not want to be with me? Is that it?"

This time, when Carlos approached her, she didn’t push him away. He took her hand and kissed her palm. "Ferrari fucked up," he whispered, still holding her hand. "They needed a PR distraction and they chose me. I don't know Rebecca Donaldson, I've never met her," he said. "I love you so much. I want nothing more than to show you off to the world."

She held his face and pulled him close, kissing him. But, when she pulled away, she stood. "Im going to stay with my mother for a bit," she said and walked out of the room to pack a bag.

Carlos couldn't move. His legs shook as he went to follow her. He felt sick to his stomach.

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[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 2

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: a pre-work visit to the bank goes horribly wrong.

wc: 4.7k

tags/warnings: unhappy relationship, gun violence, bank robbery, blood, scars, stripping, pole dancing, sexual fantasy, semi-public sex, praise

author’s note: yeah he got me fucked up

They called him Spiderman.

He appeared seemingly from thin air overnight - specifically, the night you’d stayed late at the school to watch Gabriella O’Hara until her father could pick her up. They were hailing him a vigilante, a hero, an aggressor. No one could quite seem to agree on just what he was other than supernatural. Like the multiple self-titled supervillains who had taken over your city without someone to stop them, he possessed abilities no regular human was capable of. Shooting webs from his wrists, climbing walls, moving and propelling himself at unimaginable speeds. He was something unimaginable.

People theorized, over the week since his city-wide premier on shaky cellphone footage and breaking news coverings that interrupted regular shows, that he had escaped from a cage in Alchemax. How else could they explain his powers? They couldn’t. Others said he was an alien. Some said he was a fake, said that the clips that captured him beating the absolute shit out of car thieves and back alley thugs and would-be kidnappers, were all photoshopped with a fancy computer and an advanced program.

Either way, no matter where he’d come from or what he was, whether he was a do-gooder or another villain searching for glory, no one could deny that what he did was incredible.

It was too bad some people were out to get him despite what he was doing for your city.

“He’s a menace!” shouted the anchor of the news show playing in the bank’s lobby. J. Jonah Jameson’s voice brought a migraine to the front of your head, one that wouldn’t go away with just simple ibuprofen. You tried to block him out as you waited in line for a teller, attempting to focus instead on the story your boyfriend was barking in your ear on your phone. Your attempt was unsuccessful. “He’s just another villain trying to have his five minutes of glory in the sun. He’ll burn out just like all the others; Doc Ock, Kraven, the Vulture… Please, people! Wake up and take a deep breath of reality! He’s not helping the citizens of New York - he’s getting in the way of our police!” He fixed the camera with a hard, stony stare that made you look away when you saw one of his eyes twitch. What in fuck did that dude put in his cereal every morning? “Spiderman is just another villain. Give him another week, and see where he ends up.”

You felt your lips tug down as you turned away from the television and moved up in line. What a sad, pathetic city you lived in, where someone attempted to use whatever powers they had to do good and got blasted for it instead of praise. God knew New York needed all the help it could get. With the highest crime rate in the country, who would turn their nose up at what little help was offered to them?

Dickwipes, that was who.

“Hello?” shouted the voice on the other end of the phone you held up to your face. You jumped slightly and pulled it from your ear, earning yourself a few strange looks from the other people in line. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, babe,” you exhaled into the speaker. Blocking out the television and the rest of the distractions in the bank, you upped the volume on your phone. “Just kind of busy at the moment. I’m in line at the bank, and then I’ve got to catch a taxi in this fucking traffic and haul ass to work before class starts, and -”

From his end, Ferris released one of those breathy sighs that he did when he wanted you to stop speaking so that he could talk what was on his mind. You knew the sound well - well enough to shut your mouth and swallow thick. “Could’ve just said it was a bad time,” he grunted, then made the noises of switching his phone to his other ear. You recognized the sounds of his deft fingers fiddling with his guitar strings. God, it seemed like he never put that fucking thing down. A part of you suspected that if your apartment was on fire, he would run to save his instrument before you. “Listen, I’ve got practice here in a while. I’ll let you get back to whatever’s so important.”

Ignoring the pang that resounded like a thunderclap through your ribcage, you nodded your head despite knowing he couldn’t see you. “Uhm, okay.” You hesitated, then added, “Oh, before you go to practice -” you heard him sniff - “could you put away the dishes in the sink? I started the cycle this morning before I left, so it should be -”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Bye.”

“Oh, okay, bye. Lo-” Before you could finish, you heard the familiar click of the other line being hung up. You stood still for a moment, feeling a little numb at your fingers, before slowly pulling your phone from your face and pressing that bright red button to hang up your end. Trying to keep your expression neutral, you stepped forward in line as it moved.

Maybe once upon a time, you and Ferris had been happy together. Maybe… satisfied was the right word. Settled. There to fill the void when you needed someone. Saying ‘I love you’ was never a column to lean upon in your relationship; it was only mumbled under breaths during sex and rare moments when both of you were in the mood to not be so completely alone. But that wasn’t often. He was too busy with his band, spending whatever money from his gigs that he received at whatever bars he trolled when he claimed he was cleaning up after shows. You were too busy teaching your kids during the day and teasing and smiling desperate souls at night, putting lousy paychecks and crumpled tips toward keeping your rent paid and food in the pantry.

The girls at The Menagerie asked you why you didn’t leave him, kick him out of your apartment and change the locks. You couldn’t ever come up with a good reason. Maybe it was because if you did, six months of your life would be down the drain. Maybe it was because if you did, you’d be more alone than you ever had in your life.

You didn’t have anyone besides Ferris. Your parents, shit - they were a lost cause. The girls at the club all had separate lives. And your kids at the school - you had to let them go every afternoon, walk out that door without a glance back.

If you let Ferris go, you would have no one.

Stuffing your phone back into your purse, you held your head high, refusing to let anyone else here see just how deep the cracks in your foundations were. At last, you were called up to the next available teller.

Your heels clicked and clacked along the polished tile floor, the bright yellow dress that you’d bought for yourself for a school spirit day swishing about your ankles. You felt like a sore thumb in this dull, brown-and-white building that was just aching to be updated. Old, vintage chandeliers hung from the high-arched ceilings, illuminating the golden bars the tellers sat behind. Benches with creaky leather occupied the center of the lobby, accented by matching chairs and little desks that bankers in starched collars met with clients at. It was all black and white, neutrals and dark tones.

Greeting the teller behind the gate with as bright a smile as you could muster, you opened your mouth to say hello. Yet just when you began to push the syllables past your lips, your world shattered like porcelain meeting concrete.

Sunlight like a torch in a dark tunnel flooded the bank as a small line of figures crowded into the bank. At first, no one paid them any mind. Then shots like the deafening cracks of fireworks right beside your ear sounded from sleek black rifles into the ceiling, and screams filled the echoey chambers of the building. You immediately dropped and covered your head, breath leaving your lungs like the air had been slammed from your chest by a sledgehammer. People cowered behind the cushions and desks, scrambling for cover as another round went through the roof.

“Everyone put your hands on your heads and take a seat on the ground,” came a booming voice from the figure at the head of the group. There were four of them, a small team who wore identical kabuki masks and black tactical gear fit to be seen on military personnel. “This is a robbery. Not a killing spree, not a kidnapping - a robbery. We ain’t looking to hurt anyone today, unless someone tries to be a hero. No sudden moves. You all follow directions, and you’ll be home in time for lunch.”

Unable to pull in a new breath, you slid to the ground and placed your hands on top of your head. You watched, eyes wide and fingers trembling slightly as the men began to make their rounds to the tellers, plopping wide, fat bags on the counters and demanding money from beneath the desks be placed inside. One took up a stance just beside you, forcefully shoving his bag to the man behind the bars and commanding him to pull out the stacked bills. The teller at once complied, dropping thousands of dollars as sweat began to bead at his temples.

Holy goddamn fucking shit. Holy fuck. You knew this city was dangerous - hell, you’d sit back night after night at home and watch on the news as cars were jacked and people were taken hostage. You’d just never thought it would happen to you; of all the millions of people in this city, you’d never thought it would be you. And yet here you were, hunkered down against a countertop as your bank was robbed with you at the throbbing heart of it all.

And you were all alone.

The man in the mask beside you took a glance down when your trembling brushed up against his leg, his head tilting slightly in a demented way that made his mask look haunted. You were suddenly reminded of your own mask that you wore for work, of the ones the other girls wore, and you were struck with the realization that, perhaps, you and he were not so different. You both wore masks to hide your faces, holding out your hands and moving to a particular kind of dance in order to snatch money right out of pockets without batting a damn eye.

Then again, when you danced, you didn’t hold an automatic rifle strapped to your shoulder.

“Give it to me,” said the man above you. You were barely able to understand his words through his mask.

Your heart skipped yet another few beats as you tried to register what he was saying. Give it to him? Give him what? “What?” you managed to say over the lead in your throat.

He nodded his head to the space beside you, and you whipped around. Your purse lay on its side next to your thigh. He wanted your purse; your wallet. Your money. Everything you had - which still wasn’t much. But you couldn’t give it up.

You looked back up at him while he switched his gaze between you and the teller, who was still busy filling the bag with cash. “No,” you said, and when he snapped his gaze to yours, you added, “please. I don’t have much, I don’t have anything compared to this place.”

The man in the mask turned away from the teller to grip his rifle tighter, tilting it slightly so that it was level with your leg curled up against your chest. “I’m not going to ask again, lady.”

Just as your hand began to scrabble for the purse laying beside you, knocking around a few papers and loose change that had fallen out, the man was struck in the face with a mass of white substance that clung to his mask. He cried out and dropped his rifle, hands flying up in an attempt to pull the stuff from his eye holes. You watched, frozen in place, as another masked man across the lobby was stuck to a countertop by his hand with another mass that appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Before anyone else could react, a dark, sinewy figure dropped from the arched ceilings overhead and kneeled on the tile just a few feet from where you huddled. When they stood up straight, your breath hitched in your throat. It was a man, donned head to toe in a blue and red suit that popped with color here in this bleak interior - like your yellow dress. His face was covered with a mask, the only indication of an expression beneath that surface retractable eye lenses that narrowed as he took a glance around the ceiling.

Spiderman exhaled a nearly inaudible huff. “Some things never change.”

From that moment, the bank was painted into a picture of chaos. The masked vigilante expelled a pair of webs from his wrist to slingshot himself across the lobby, landing a jaw-cracking blow to one of the robbers who tried to raise his rifle. The fourth, the last one still able to move, cracked off a number of shots that sent people scrambling and wailing out. The blue and red suit shot off tiny sparks as lead collided with its bulletproof material, nothing but pebbles against a mountain.

Spiderman huffed again, a breathy little chuckle this time. “Cute.”

In the next second, that fourth gunman was sent flying into a marble wall, sliding down onto his face to reveal the large crack his spine had put in its surface. The last two men were taken down quicker than you could have blinked. The second, his hand still stuck to the countertop, didn’t stand much of a chance when webs ripped his own rifle from his grasp and struck him across the forehead with a sickening crack. And the man who had demanded your purse - he’d only just gotten the white mass of sticky stuff off his mask before the vigilante slung across the room, grabbed him by his vest, and raised a gloved hand capped with three-inch long claws. “It’s impolite to threaten pretty ladies,” he growled in a voice that, for some reason, despite the situation, made your stomach churn a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He swung the robber toward you where you sat on the ground, that clawed hand gripping his jaw to force him to keep your eyes. “Apologize - like a gentleman. And maybe I’ll think about letting you keep your trigger finger in one piece.”

By now, with the gunmen either unconscious or being held against their will, almost everyone else in the bank had gotten to their feet and bolted out the front doors. In the distance, sirens wailed and tires screeched. And yet you remained where you were, staring up at Spiderman as he tightened his grip on the man’s jaw. His claws drew tiny dots of blood along his skin. “We’re waiting,” he said in a breathy murmur.

The gunman inhaled a high-pitched, shaky breath and turned his eyes to you from behind his mask. “M’sorry,” he stuttered over his own terror.

The vigilante leaned closer, his eye lenses narrowing. “Sorry for what?”

“M’sorry for threatening you,” came the pathetic cry in response that almost made you pity him. Almost. “It - it won’t happen again, I swear.”

For a short moment, the two men stared at you. One was praying that you accepted the apology, prayed you were going to call off your savior in spandex. The other was waiting for your decision, waiting to see if you accepted such a sorry excuse for a ‘sorry.’ Swallowing the large lump in your throat, you wordlessly bobbed your head in a nod.

Spiderman hummed and turned his head so that his mouth would be close to the robber’s ear. “Seems the lady’s feeling generous today. Consider yourself lucky.”

He spun the man around with those claws of his, and the robber’s gloved hand reached out in a blind panic and grabbed onto the vigilante’s suit just where his neck met his broad shoulders. He dragged the spandex down accidentally as his head was slammed against the marble countertops, giving you perhaps a one second-long glimpse of dark, tan skin and a small scar across his collarbone. Then the man’s grip relaxed as he dropped to the floor and he released the material of the suit, allowing it to snap back into place.

You jumped slightly as the would-be robber collapsed in a heap of limbs and tactical gear beside you, your dress riding up on your thighs slightly from how you sat with your knees huddled to your chest. Before you could think to do much else in this mind-boggling moment, Spiderman was standing before you and offering a hand to help you to your feet. His claws had shrunk back into his glove - or, perhaps his own nails - and his upturned palm suddenly looked oh so inviting. It floored you in the most alluring, gut-clenching way how those very hands had just brought four men within an inch of their life, and yet now they were softer than empty promises just for you.

“You alright?” he asked as you took his hand and stood. “Sorry you had to get caught up in all this.”

He talked to you in such a casual way, like the pair of you had met before, that you could do nothing but stare and clutch your hands to your stomach as he scooped up the fallen items from your purse, dropped them back in, and handed your bag to you. Numbly, you accepted it.

“You’re safe to walk outside now,” he assured, towering over you like a damn stone column. Fuck, his voice was sexy. Low and tipped with a rolling accent. You wondered, in that moment, why it sounded so familiar. “The police should be arriving any time. They’ll just ask you a few questions and send you on your way.” As if he understood that you were frozen in place, he touched your back, turned you around, and urged you toward the front doors that were now flooded with red and blue lights from the squad cars outside. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

You had just barely mumbled a barely-audible ‘okay’ before he was gently guiding you out the doors, and then suddenly you were alone, facing down three dozen cops and a truckload of SWAT soldiers.

They asked you exactly what happened in that bank. They asked what you were doing there, what time the incident occurred, who in the hell could single handedly take down four aggressors with automatic rifles and bulletproof vests? They knew the answer, and so did you. But you told them anyway.

“It was Spiderman.”

And no matter how fucking hard you tried, how much you urged yourself to forget about them and focus on the here and now, you were unable to get that masked vigilante out of your head. You thought about him on the rest of the way to the school, because god knew there were far too few teachers in this city and you couldn’t have gotten a substitute even if you tried. You thought about him while your coworkers, the other teachers, all gathered around you in the breakroom and demanded answers and stories from your little incident that morning. You thought about him while you planned out your day with numb fingers and toes, and while you stood out front and welcomed kids in, and even when Miguel O’Hara appeared to drop off Gabriella safely at your side.

It took a few words out of his mouth, past those gorgeous full lips of his, a quirk of one of those thick brows, to finally bring you out of your stupor. “I’m sorry?” you said when you realized he had asked you a question. You felt your cheeks warm and your palms become sweaty as you begged his pardon.

To your relief, Miguel only smiled slightly and placed a hand on his jutted hip like he did. God, why did he have to do that? Draw attention to the perfect ratio of his body, a beautiful slope from his wide shoulders to his trimmed waist? “Just asking if you were alright,” he repeated himself, and you could have sworn his eyes flitted over you while he spoke. “Heard you were caught up in that robbery down on Fifth.”

“Oh… right.” You cleared your throat and watched as Gabriella spotted a few friends and dashed into the school to meet them, her backpack wagging behind her. “Yeah, I’m alright. Now that it’s over, I realize it didn’t even last that long. Maybe five minutes or so before… before Spiderman showed up.”

“Yeah?” He reached up his other hand to scratch at the underside of his chin, where the delicate skin of his throat was. Your eyes followed his movements like they were a magnet and you had no choice but to watch. Even if you did have a choice, you would have watched, anyway.

You nodded your head once, clasping your clipboard with your kids’ names on it to your thighs over your dress. A breeze blew over Washington Elementary, letting the yellow fabric dance and blow up to your knees. They were scuffed from kneeling on the hard tile floor this morning. “Mmm-hmm. He’s… not like I imagined him,” you admitted, then realized just what you were doing; talking to Miguel O’Hara, the main star in every single one of your late-night fantasies, about the man who had quite literally swooped in and saved your ass. “But, anyhow… No one got hurt. That’s what matters.”

The corners of Miguel’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly, showing off a tiny flash of his white teeth. It then occurred to you that you’d never seen him smile fully - only with a closed mouth. “Well,” he said, and lifted his hand an inch or two, almost like he was going to touch your arm, then stopped himself and lowered it back down. “I’m glad you’re safe.” There came a fraction of a second of tense, charged silence between the pair of you before he added, “Don’t know what we would do if something happened to Bri’s favorite teacher.”

Bri - you’d never heard him call her that before. It was always a full ‘Gabriella.’

Behind you, in the school, the bell rang, signaling the final five minutes before class started. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling your heart sink slightly at the realization that you would have to leave the conversation. “I’d better -” You allowed your sentence to fall away as a number of squad cars came rounding the corner across from the school, sirens wailing and tires squealing on the tarmac. Other vehicles on the road pulled over to let them pass as they blew through a red light; whatever was happening, it must have been serious. But wasn’t it always.

“Heh,” you chuckled gently as you began to turn back to Miguel. “Always something happening, ri-”

He was gone. Vanished, seemingly, into nothingness. No car to watch pull out of the lot, because he walked his daughter to school, and no trace of his hulking, towering form down the sidewalk outside the wrought iron gates that surrounded the building. He’d completely and totally disappeared.

Damn, you thought as you blinked a few times, gripping your clipboard, and entered the school. What an enigma he was.

That night at work, as you spun yourself around and around on the pole center stage in various twisted shapes and contortments, you found yourself divulging in yet another one of your little fantasies. You shut your eyes as you tensed your leg and gripped the pole to send yourself around in a tight, flashing circle that made the train - that your boss had specifically instructed you to wear while you were in the spotlight - flutter and whip like golden water pulled across a current.

You pictured Miguel seated in the leather chair closest to the stage, his chin propped on his forearms where they rested across the edge of your runway. You imagined the neon lights playing tricks and dirty, filthy, irresistable illusions in the gleam of his eyes, following your movements around and around because no matter how many times you did the same cheap trick, he would still watch it as if it were his first time seeing it. You thought of kneeling down in front of him even though it was against the rules to get too friendly with customers if they weren’t going to pay to see you up close, and of gently taking the point of his chin in between your fingers so that he was tilting his head up to look at you.

Fuck, you thought of him taking you on that fucking stage after the place was closed, hovering over you with your legs locked around his hips and your hands gripping the wrists pinned beside your head so tight your knuckles paled. You swore that, even in your little scenario, you could feel his breath fanning across your face as he leaned down to murmur in your ear through his huffs and lustful, breathy sighs.

“Such a good girl, takin’ it all f’me. Pretty girl, pretty baby. All mine. All mine.”

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to return to reality when you felt yourself being watched. Of course you were being watched - there were dozens upon dozens of eyes surrounding your stage, watching from behind the porcelain gaps in their animalistic masks. But there was another sensation of being stared at that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of them, one that sent a certain kind of shiver down your spine. Keeping in time with your routine and the music thrumming through the floorboards of the club, you peered deep into the wide atrium in search of whoever was fixing you with such a gaze.

You found it.

He was standing nearly in the shadows where the lights couldn’t reach him, arms crossed tight over his chest and stance firm so that everyone who looked at him knew to never even think of invading the space he’d claimed for himself. The man was tall and sinewy with muscle, but you had to squint to see his frame clearly through the dark and the dress jacket he wore. Over his face, the edges obscured by the slicked-back mess of dark hair atop his head, he wore the club’s one and only spider mask.

It was a specialty disguise, one that only the top rollers and highest bidders of the evening bribed their way to at the front room. It usually signified that whoever was behind the porcelain wanted attention, wanted drinks to come nonstop to their side tables, wanted every girl in the damn house on their lap and at their feet. And yet, this evening’s spider was nothing like that. He clung to the shadows, to the perimeter of the room, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was there. He took up no more space than necessary. He was practically a no one, despite the delicate, fractured-looking design he wore over his features.

And he was watching you dance like he was mesmerized, like if the doors were chained shut and the place was burning down around him, he’d be content to stay where he was and keep his eyes focused on your body.

When the man realized you had spotted him, that you were staring right back at him through the gaps of your monarch mask, he moved. You nearly wanted to cry out, to tell him to wait, that you weren’t done. But you couldn’t.

So instead you continued to dance, continued to watch him as he flowed through the other patrons toward the exit. Yet when he turned in just a particular way to avoid bumping into a server, you saw it; through the unbuttoned top pair of buttons of his dress shirt, you spotted it, you were able to catch a glimpse of a pale, raised scar running along his collarbone.

The very same you’d seen on Spiderman.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick

(strike through means your blog could not be tagged.)

[irisinluv]

Yandere Stardew Valley- Sebastian

I've been playing some Yandere Stardew mods recently. While I love them..... I feel like they do my husband (Sebastian) wrong. The citizens of Pelican Town are telling me that they can't hang out with me because Sebstian threatened them. That they've noticed some weird behavior. That he's physically violent. I disagree with all of these for Sebby.

He's our hot programmer boyfriend who lives in his basement bedroom, and only emerges to enjoy a smoke break, or to go see his friends. Now, while again, I do enjoy playing the mods...... I think his cannon behavior sets him up to be the perfect chronically online yandere. Pelican Town isn't exactly the most connected (6 out of the 11 rivals have access to a computer), but there's still potential. Obviously they're gonners if they have a computer. Sam finds himself doxed after making a comment about the gifts you gave him this week, and poor Haley's socials are blowing up with hate comments- from her personal insta to her photography blog.

But what about the other 5? The ones who are more disconnected? Well. It's easy enough to get Shane fired from joja. A little email to Morris from "HQ" saying he either fires Shane or his own pay gets docked..... well. Suddenly, everyone's favorite alcoholic doesn't even have a job anymore. Elliott suddenly has all these taxes he hasn't paid on his little shack..... beachfront properties cost a lot, you know. The parents stop letting Penny watch their kids after some..... explicit photos get leaked. It doesn't matter that they're edited. These people don't know about Photoshop. All they know is apparently Penny's making ends meet to support her mother..... and there's a new favorite subject to gossip on between all the older women. The other rivals are equally taken care of. All you need to focus on now is how Sebastian is the only reliable option in the whole damn town.

And he knows you so well, doesn't he? You, who lived away from it all until now. You, who WAS connected to the internet. Who had their entire life detailed through Facebook updates and Instagram posts. Honestly, Sebastian thinks that maybe he DOESN'T need to leave Pelican town... looking at the life you lived before coming to the valley, he thinks its much easier to keep you safe when he can control everything that goes on. There were too many factors to your old life. Too many parties to go to, coworkers to talk to, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends worry about. No. Sebastian thinks that city life isn't fit for the two of you to start you life together.

While he enjoyed seeing the trip down memory lane of who you were before becoming the farmer, and learning more about your likes and dislikes, he much prefers this version of you. The version of you who he found bouncing on their toes outside his door, excitedly shoving a frozen tear at him. Who eventually became the only person he was genuinely excited to have come barging into his room unannounced. And the thought of moving into the farm with you was all together far too tempting. He can picture it already. He'd set up a little area to work on his bike, he'd help out around the farm for you (he saw your hands covered in scrapes and splinters one day, and you sheepishly told him your fences had started wearing down.... but fixing a fence was another first for you. So you ended up scraping yourself up a bit on the old wood. Now, Sebastain, who, while he doesn't enjoy it, grew up with a carpenter mother..... well. He's going to make sure you never have that many splinters again.) Oh and he can already imagine it. The two of you, far away from the rest of the town, from prying eyes, no one to hear what you two would get up to as he helped you relax after a long day of working the feilds.....

This fantasy would sustain him until you eventually asked him to marry you. I don't think he would rush anything. To you, and the rest of the citizens, he was just normal Sebastian. Showing up for band practice, playing pool at the bar (although he seemed to play much better when a certain farmer came to watch). He just realized that the best way to control all the factors in town would be to remain anonymous. Avoid suspicion. After all. In a small town like that, it would be all too easy to turn against him if he decided to publicly threaten someone. And how would you react if you came to drop off some fresh sashimi to your boyfriend, only to find him being dragged out of his house by Clint, with Marlon standing nearby, ready to ship him off to face justice in the adventurers guild? No. That wouldn't do. He can't add any more stress to you like that. He'd remain the puppeteer, pulling the strings of the valley.

This isn't to say Sebastian never stalks you in person or anything like that. He can't help himself. He's a night owl. He knows the villagers schedules, has since before you even came to town. So, he knows he can get away with digging in the trash to find the straw you threw away at the bar. And if someone does hear him.... well. Linus is going to be everyone's first thought. He does, however, start adopting a stricter routine as far as monitoring your house after you mention how you sell your produce.

Sebastian was rightfully horrified when you explained that Mayor Lewis comes by your farm at night to collect anything you wish to sell. How it's such a relief to be able to just chuck things in the the bin as you're rushing to bed at 1:50 in the morning, only to get up first thing and start your day again, and not have to worry about lugging all your goods to the store. Sebastian won't criticize you for the lack of sleep..... no. That's not what's worrying. What's worrying is that this old man who has a gold statue of himself and who gets it on in the bushes with his secret girlfriend (of course Sebastian knows about that) is showing up to your house sometime after 2 am. His mind flashes back to his fantasy of the two of you, completely alone on the farm.... and then is mortified as this fantasy morphs into a nightmare where he looks up from bed with you, and sees Lewis' wrinkled face peering through the window. Yea. No. Sebastain installs some hidden cameras to make sure Lewis doesn't get up to anything funny while you're defenseless, asleep, alone..... ok he might need to get a new mayor elected. The old man might just have to go. Perhaps to a home outside the town. Regardless, he makes sure Lewis stops coming by as frequently. Frustratingly, he isn't able to completely stop it, but that'll be an easy fix once the two of you are married. He'll act surprised, "wow Lewis, that's so kind of you to help out the farmer all this time. But hey, don't worry, I'll take over. I'm up late anyways, and it's the least I can do!" But Sebastian still wakes up in a cold sweat and frantically rushes to check the cameras, making sure you're OK. That Lewis really is just checking the shipping bin.

Once y'all get married, he shows a bit more of that possessive side to you. But you chalk it up to just bedroom spicy time, and honestly find his hand tightening on your waist as Elliot asks you to read his latest poem hot.

Just. Yandere Sebastian brain rot.

[sundrop-writes]

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you. 

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why. 

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you. 

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had. 

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons. 

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot. 

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible. 

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot. 

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth. 

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance. 

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained. 

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you. 

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different. 

… 

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!” 

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment. 

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room. 

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled. 

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.” 

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom. 

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back. 

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.) 

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued. 

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.” 

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone. 

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice. 

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.” 

Jason’s face fell flat. 

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next. 

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice. 

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!” 

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter. 

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.” 

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you. 

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction. 

… 

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth. 

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you. 

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips. 

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light. 

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport. 

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself. 

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down. 

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back. 

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass. 

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology. 

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week. 

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’. 

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were. 

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him. 

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick. 

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic. 

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive. 

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up? 

… 

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols. 

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate. 

It was harmony. 

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night. 

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you. 

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself. 

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills. 

Jason chuckled. 

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented. 

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled. 

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.” 

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement. 

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin. 

That. That must have been the moment. 

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy. 

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left. 

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free. 

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice. 

Him or the Titans. 

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you. 

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay. 

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans. 

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me. 

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you. 

He let you go. 

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize. 

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that. 

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day. 

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team. 

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears. 

… 

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death. 

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge. 

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night. 

…

Jason knew that he should have left town. 

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason. 

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so. 

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did. 

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap. 

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences. 

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer. 

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” 

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat. 

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles. 

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled. 

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant. 

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it. 

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point. 

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous. 

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!” 

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’. 

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly. 

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something. 

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother. 

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.” 

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion. 

“Where uptown?” He asked. 

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.” 

Jason glared at him. 

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-” 

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.” 

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this. 

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed. 

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to. 

He should listen to that voice. 

He should leave town. 

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him. 

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up. 

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.” 

Jason turned back around then. 

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever. 

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look. 

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped. 

It was you. 

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face. 

You were terrified. 

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system. 

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth. 

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen. 

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth. 

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.” 

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap. 

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified. 

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl. 

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.” 

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl. 

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time. 

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you. 

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you. 

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!” 

… 

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage. 

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face. 

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him. 

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was. 

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you. 

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice. 

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles. 

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup. 

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free. 

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him. 

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!” 

“Wh-?” 

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs. 

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek. 

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-” 

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way. 

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.  

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension. 

“What?” Jason gaped. 

This was the last thing he had been expecting. 

He was saving you - why were you questioning him? 

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?” 

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.  

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder. 

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you. 

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.” 

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt. 

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming. 

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him. 

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating. 

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?” 

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?” 

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed. 

“Why?” You prodded again. 

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go. 

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?” 

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever. 

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted. 

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night. 

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something. 

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears. 

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him. 

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him. 

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares. 

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you. 

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat. 

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know. 

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it. 

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther. 

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do. 

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words. 

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard. 

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth. 

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now. 

… 

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button. 

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.” 

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next. 

… 

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest. 

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before. 

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping. 

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise. 

He did hear it. 

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled. 

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap. 

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on. 

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again. 

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety. 

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge. 

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system. 

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you. 

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight. 

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left. 

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air. 

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished. 

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt. 

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen. 

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?” 

You couldn’t answer him. 

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke. 

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still. 

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do. 

All he could do was hold you. 

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor. 

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.” 

Jason simply wept. And he held you. 

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled. 

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟹

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“This is from when we went to a cute coffee shop the other day. They have really good pastries there. I definitely recommend it.” 

“Aw, what a lovely picture,” Mary-Ann beams, leaning closer to you as you swipe through your phone’s gallery. “You two look very good together. You’re a great match.” 

You smile back at her, turning up the charm to the max. It’s a good thing you’re so handy with photoshop, because editing all these photos of you and Isaac together would have taken a newbie just about forever. But it’s helping your relationship seem that much more real, and most people can’t pick up on little discrepancies when it comes to edited photos anyways, not unless they’re glaringly obvious. 

Everyone finished their food a while ago, so you’ve just been sitting around the couch chatting with Isaac’s parents. The evening is just about over, and even though you know you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, you have good reason to believe that they are fully convinced you’re their son’s girlfriend. 

“Well, I think we should start heading out,” Isaac says, clearly signaling you with his eyes that he’s had enough and is ready to leave. “I’m burnt out from classes, and I don’t want to go to sleep too late tonight. Plus I still need to drive [Name] home.” 

Mary-Ann makes a big show of pouting. “Right. That’s too bad. I wish you two could have stayed for longer, but you’re both busy bees, aren’t you?” 

She just unironically said ‘busy bees’. That was kind of cute. 

Isaac stands up and pats you on the shoulder, and you quickly follow suit. While Michael certainly added quite a bit of tension to the evening, overall, you feel like you did your part. The situation was likely far less uncomfortable than usual thanks to you being here. You try to avoid imagining how Michael would have acted towards his son if there wasn’t a guest present. 

“I still feel like it was unnecessary to hide this from us,” Michael frowns, following you and Isaac to the front door. “You’ve finally found a girlfriend you can take pride in. Wouldn’t you want to show her off?” 

“She’s not an object,” Isaac scowls. “I’m not trying to parade her around as if she’s on display.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with being proud of the person you’re with. Good grief,” Michael sighs. “You’re always so defensive.” 

Isaac turns away instead of responding. His freedom is right within his grasp, and you can tell he no longer has the energy to keep bickering with his father. 

You smile in an attempt to wrap the evening off on a high note. “Thank you again for having me over. Dinner was really good, and I had a lot of fun getting to know you guys.” 

“It was our pleasure,” Mary-Ann beams. “You’re more than welcome to drop by as often as you like. We’re happy to have you here.” 

“Isaac can be difficult, but don’t give up on him,” Michael says. “He needs someone like you in his life to set a good example.” 

You smile again and nod before saying your goodbyes. Isaac is already halfway out the door and waves listlessly without looking back, much to Michael’s distaste. 

It’s finally over. You did your part, and you have reason to believe that neither of his parents suspected a thing. 

Once he’s safely out of earshot and well within the comfort of his car, Isaac lets out a heavy sigh. 

“God, I’m tired,” he says. “That went on forever. Sorry. I probably should have been a bit more transparent about how awkward things are with my dad. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I figured your parents would be pretty strict, based on what you told me. It seems like they don’t doubt our relationship at all, which is good. And I prepared a lot in advance, so that definitely helped.” 

“You did great,” Isaac smiles. “I really appreciate it. I wish I’d found this app earlier so that I could have gotten them off my back ages ago.” He pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “Or… actually, maybe it’s a good thing I joined when I did. You mentioned you signed up just recently, right? If I’d joined earlier, I wouldn’t have found you. I think it all worked out for the best.” 

He’s probably just being polite and praising you for a job well done, but nevertheless, his words make your cheeks feel hot. 

“Right,” Isaac blinks. “Time for your payment. I’ll do it in front of you so you don’t have to worry about being ripped off. I know we’ve only just met, but I promise I’m not the kind of person to do something like that.”

“I know,” you nod encouragingly. “Just from the few hours we’ve spent together, I can tell. You’re obviously a good guy. I wish your dad would cut you some slack.” 

Isaac blinks again, but this time it looks like he’s resisting the urge to cry. 

He chuckles shakily, composing himself quickly enough. Not long after, you receive a notification that new funds have been deposited into your account. 

So, it’s official, then.

You’ve just been paid to act as someone’s girlfriend.

“Five stars,” Isaac mumbles, no doubt giving you a review on the app. “I honestly don’t think I could do this kind of job. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to pull it off, especially since you have to improvise on the spot and you never know what’ll happen next. It’s impressive that you stayed so calm throughout the evening. Most people that meet my dad end up ripping their hair out.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you reassure. 

Especially since I’m used to my own dad being a massive prick.

Isaac smiles. “Well, either way, I really appreciate you helping me. It was worth every dime. Also… I mentioned before that this was only going to be a one-time thing, but sometime in the future, would you be open to meeting with them again? I don’t see them super often, but I just wanted to know if you’re willing to put yourself through this torture again. If not, I can’t really blame you.” 

“Sure,” you say. “As long as you give me a heads-up, it should be fine. It seriously wasn’t as bad as you’re thinking. If it helps you out, I’d be happy to do it.” 

Isaac’s smile brightens, and he nods enthusiastically. It’s clear that he’s in a much better mood now that he’s dealt with an unpleasant situation. The money is nice, but getting to see that blissful expression of his is even better, somehow.

Even though the job is technically over, Isaac goes out of his way to drive you home and thanks you once again for helping him. He waits for you to walk into your apartment safely, which you appreciate, and you wave goodbye to him for the last time.

As you walk up the steps to your unit, you contemplate the day’s events.

Isaac was clearly satisfied with how you did, and it seemed like his parents were pretty fond of you as well. You’re not sure how long he plans to deceive them for, but for the time being, it seems to be doing the trick.

Considering this was your very first day on the job, you feel like it went really well.

And it looks like you’re going to keep riding this high for a while longer, because shortly after you get home, a notification catches your eye. 

You blink several times in quick succession. Wait, seriously? You’re still fresh off your first day of work and there’s already another person who wants to hire you? 

Hardly much time has passed since you set up your profile, but if the offers continue to be this frequent, you might not even need to look for another job. 

You pause, then awkwardly clear your throat. 

I should stop getting carried away. This is only the second person who’s tried to request me. I don’t even know if I’ll accept them. 

Still, you feel confident after how happy Isaac was with your services, so you approach your new client with boundless optimism. 

He proceeds to send you a picture of him posing in front of a piece of street art which you unfortunately recognize. It’s the same one you’ve passed by several times while on campus. 

Shit. He goes to the same university as you? That could get a little awkward. 

It takes you a while to respond. Well… Ava did say before that some people are just looking for a bit of companionship from time to time. Maybe that’s the case for Callum? He might just be in a bad spot and needs someone to talk to.

As a matter of fact, it sounds almost too good to be true, but if he’s really serious about this, then this will be the easiest money you’ve ever made in your entire life. Unlike with Isaac, you won’t have to memorize a bunch of facts to try and deceive people into believing your relationship is real. You’ll be getting paid just to hang out with someone. On campus, no less, so you won’t even have to go out of your way. 

At the time, you deluded yourself into thinking that all Callum wanted was a friend, and that there was nothing more to it.

But of course, you were sorely mistaken.

“No way!” Ava squeals. “You have another job already? Today? Here?” 

You glance around in a panic. Her outcry has drawn countless eyes towards the two of you, and since you’re in a library, people aren’t happy with the loud distraction. 

“Shh,” you urge, pressing a finger to your lips and gesturing for her to be quiet. “Not so loud. I also don’t want people to know that this is technically a job. But yeah, this guy goes to the same university as us. He said he didn’t need me to act like his girlfriend and said it was fine to just be his friend instead.” 

Ava giggles. “Sorry, sorry. But wow, that sounds awesome! Not only do you get paid, but you don’t need to do anything too crazy either. This guy must be pretty laid back. What’s his name?”

“I’m not sure if I should be telling you,” you frown. “He probably doesn’t want other people knowing that he paid for my time. I don’t know all the details, but things might not be going so well if he needs to hire a friend through an app rather than confiding in a real one. Out of respect for his privacy and personal situation, I think I should keep this to myself.” 

“Oh, come on,” she whines. “You’re just teasing me at this point. You told me about Isaac, didn’t you? And if you didn’t want me to ask, you shouldn’t have mentioned that you had a new job right on campus!” 

“I only told you because you were trying to hang out later when I’m supposing to be meeting with him.” 

“But still!” 

She balls her hands into fists and huffs—a bit too loudly, it seems, because several people turn around and openly glare at her. 

Ava flashes them a sheepish smile, then looks back at you with big, imploring eyes. “Pretty please? With a cherry on top? I just want to know his name and what he looks like. You know I won’t go blabbing to anyone. If I ever pass by the two of you hanging out, I promise not to let it slip that I know he hired you. Haven’t I always been a woman of my word?” 

To her credit, she’s really good at keeping secrets. Trust is important in all relationships, not just romantic ones, and the fact that the two of you are so transparent with each other is one of the main reasons your friendship has lasted this long. 

“Fine,” you eventually give in, and Ava dramatically pumps her fist in the air. People are still looking at her, so they must think she’s got a few screws loose. Well, not that she seems to mind.

You pull out your phone and swipe the app open. 

“His name is Callum,” you say. “He’s a year older than me. He mentioned he took a gap year after high school so he started a bit later than we did. I don’t know too much else about him, but he didn’t have any specific requests or ask me to prepare anything, so it sounds like we really are just going to be hanging out.” 

Ava studies the profile attentively. “He’s pretty hot,” she remarks. “I feel like he’s got that mysterious kind of bad boy vibe that most people are really into. Well, I personally think nice-looking guys like Isaac are better. Or my amazing boyfriend, of course.” 

“Should I tell him he was just an afterthought on that list?” you tease. 

“Oh, shush. He knows I love him. I’m just speaking objectively. None of these guys are ever going to make me act out.” 

You chuckle softly. Callum is attractive, that much you can admit to, but it’s comforting to know that you can just be yourself and take it easy around him. He isn’t expecting a practiced performance or anything. You actually almost feel guilty accepting the money. If you end up having fun, isn’t it basically just a meet-up with a friend? 

“I can pretty much read your mind,” Ava snorts. “Don’t feel sorry for him. We don’t know why he feels the need to do this, or what exactly is going on in his life. Like you said, there’s no way to know the details. He’s the one who offered you money in exchange for your time, so you have no reason to feel guilty about it.” 

“Yeah… that’s true,” you nod. “At least I’m helping people, one way or another. But I feel like people don’t usually help others expecting money in return…” 

“That’s not true. So many different jobs involve helping people, but it’s not like people can just work for free. We can’t help that we need money to survive. Seriously,” she sighs, patting your back in reassurance, “you’re way too nice. Going out of your way to help a total stranger isn’t something the average person does, and besides, you’ve got student loans and tuition to pay. You’re dealing with your own shit, and so is he, right?” 

Perhaps it’s because this job sounds so much easier than the previous one. At least in Isaac’s case, you had to prepare ahead of time and maintain a convincing performance in an awkward and relatively stressful environment. It felt like you actually earned your pay. 

Well, it’s too late to back out now. I guess I shouldn’t keep beating myself up over it. If I end up having fun while working, where’s the harm in that? As long as Callum’s happy, that’s all that matters. 

You smile back at Ava. As always, she’s right. You’re lucky to have a friend like her, who pushes you to step out of your comfort zone and try new things. Without her, you’re sure you would be missing out on all kinds of interesting experiences. 

“I should get going now,” you say, already packing up your things.

Ava frowns. “Huh? So soon?” 

“We’re meeting on the opposite end on campus, and I don’t want to be late. And no, you can’t follow me and spy on us.” 

“[Name], please,” she laughs. “I do have some self-control. Plus, my classes start soon.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve skipped class. I’m actually kind of scared to even ask what your attendance record is like.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better lately, okay?” 

You zip up your backpack and laugh as you wave goodbye to her. You open up your phone to the app and check the last message you exchanged with Callum. The meet-up spot hasn’t changed, and he hasn’t mentioned anything else since then. 

You wonder what you’ll be doing together. Well, since you’re meeting at a cafe, you can start off by grabbing some coffee and sitting down for a chat, but it sounds like you both have a bit of time to kill before your afternoon classes. Maybe you can go on a stroll through the university gardens? Actually, he might already have something else planned. 

You’ve always been prone to overthinking, but you eventually reason that there’s no way to prepare for this, and hardly a point either. 

It’s just going to be a chill hangout session, and who knows? You might even get a new friend out of it. 

You thought for sure you would be the early one, but when you arrive at the cafe, you find that Callum is already waiting there. 

He spots you without a moment’s delay. 

“Oh, hey,” he grins. “You’re [Name]? Wow, you’re even prettier than in all your pictures. They don’t do you justice at all.” 

“Thanks,” you blush. “The same goes for you. Your pictures were nice, but you look even better in person.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he brushes off. He pauses for a moment, then his grin gets even wider. “Just kidding. Keep complimenting me as much as you want. I like it.” 

You chuckle awkwardly, and perhaps a touch nervously. He doesn’t really seem like the type of guy who doesn’t have any friends. He’s clearly extroverted, and charismatic, and between the two of you, you’re the one who’s visibly on edge. 

Again, there’s no point in wondering why he hired you. The point is that he did hire you, and you had better make sure he’s satisfied with his experience.

“Well, it’s nice to be meeting you in person,” you smile. “What did you want to do first? I guess we’ll start with some coffee?” 

“Yeah, I need coffee ASAP,” Callum nods. “I get cranky without it. It’s an inevitable side effect of being an insomniac. As you can probably tell.” 

He has discernible dark circles under his eyes, so you kind of figured he might be sleep-deprived. Quite frankly, he looks like the kind of person who subsists solely off coffee, microwaved meals, and cigarettes. 

Then again, that’s probably the case for most university students.

“Let’s head in,” Callum gestures. He stops in front of the door to smile back at you. “And thanks again for agreeing to my request, even though you don’t usually do this kind of thing on campus.” 

“Just as friends,” you feel the need to clarify. “As long as it’s just as friends, then there’s no problem.” 

Callum keeps smiling sweetly, but his pale eyes briefly glint with something akin to amusement.

Needless to say, you don’t pick up on it.

“Yep,” he beams. “Just friends. Anyways, I need my coffee. I’m basically dead on my feet.” 

You follow him inside the store, ordering your own coffee after he does. Since neither of you have classes anytime soon, you figure you might sit around and talk for a little while, so you head to one of the tables. 

Callum, however, stops you.

“Let’s sit outside,” he insists. “They’ve got tables there too. The weather’s nice today. I want to enjoy the sun.” 

“Oh, sure,” you nod.

There’s no reason to object. Spring is right around the corner, so it’s definitely been warming up lately. You sit down next to Callum and take a tentative sip of your coffee, exhaling happily as you lift your face towards the sunny sky. 

“This was a good call,” you acknowledge. “It’s relaxing, being able to drink good coffee and sit under the sun. I’m usually scrambling to finish my coffee in time for class. I definitely needed a change of pace.” 

Callum chuckles. “Yeah, you get it. I feel like people are always going a hundred miles a minute, but I’m just trying to take it easy and actually enjoy life. People seem to forget how to do that nowadays. It’s kind of a shame.” 

He starts sipping at his coffee, and you decide to focus on your own drink instead of disturbing him. You’ve only just met, but you’re already starting to feel more at ease. He really is laid back and chill. 

Yeah. Accepting his request was definitely the right call.

…or was it? 

“Callum?” 

Someone calls his name out of nowhere. Naturally, you turn towards the source, where a young woman is standing still as a statue, and for some reason, she looks absolutely flabbergasted.

Before you can even think twice about it, Callum wraps his arm around your shoulder, which makes the woman nearly pop a blood vessel.

You suddenly feel as though something is horribly wrong.

“Oh, hey Nadia,” Callum hums. “What’s up?” 

Nadia doesn’t say anything at first. Just like you, she’s in utter disbelief and is still struggling to process what’s happening. Callum holds you tight, hardly giving you any wiggle room, and something tells you that if you push him away right now, he won’t be happy about it. 

But even if you did push him away in time, you doubt it would have made a difference. Already, the damage has been done.

Nadia grits her teeth, expression turning venomous. 

“...who the fuck is she?” 

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🦋 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[jeonginify]

deny me (lovesong) — kim seungmin. ·˚ ༘♡

↝ pairing: kim seungmin x reader ↝ genre: humor, fluff, established relationship!au ↝ word count: 4k ↝ warnings: general menace behavior, you and seungmin are in love but pretend not to be, gross sickening fluff, jisung obviously doesn’t have the paboracha brain cell this week (don't mind that the banner isn't a gif my photoshop subscription expired.......)

↝ summary: the only thing you love more than your boyfriend seungmin’s smile is his obsession with fucking around with his friends. or, after one too many fights between his two best friends who can’t get along for the life of them, han jisung isn’t sure he can handle it anymore (who’s going to tell him that they don’t actually hate each other and are, in fact, dating?)

Thursdays have always been your favorite day of the week.

“Hi babe.”

To be fair, any day that you get to see Kim Seungmin is your favorite. But for the six months that the two of you have been dating, Thursdays have always been your day because it is when you get to see him the most, free of any distractions.

The two of you met through your mutual friends, and although you love them (well, you love them sometimes), they can be demanding. Early on in the friendship, back when you were all itty bitty freshmen with a thirst for the party life, Changbin claimed Fridays as your going out nights. Saturdays, then, were reserved for movie night at Hyunjin and Minho’s after a few too many Marvel marathons sophomore year. Sundays eventually ended up being taken by weekly brunch with Jeongin, and every other day of the week—well, those ended up occupied by one clingy, over-attached Han Jisung.

But Thursdays? Those Seungmin kept clear just for you.

“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose as your boyfriend leans down and plants a sloppy kiss on your forehead.

He raises a brow before flopping into the seat next to you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Say that again,” Seungmin mutters as he peppers more kisses on your face.

Somehow, he manages to make the words sound both threatening and endearing at the same time. His lips trail their way down your cheek, along your jaw, to the corner of your lips, until you can’t take it anymore.

“Okay, okay,” you relent with a laugh. “I missed you too.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says triumphantly. You tilt your head up, ready for the final kiss, but he pretends not to notice the way you pucker your lips.

“Now get away from me.”

Seungmin dramatically pushes you off, but the smirk playing across his face tells you that he is just joking.

“Okay, loser,” you sniff, taking a sip from your coffee.

“How was class today?” He asks, shrugging his bag onto the ground.

“S’alright,” you sigh, pushing a cup towards him. You had ordered his iced Americano when you had arrived a few minutes earlier. This was your favorite café, and it had become a tradition to meet here after classes—it was a bit far from campus, sure, but you never minded, and neither did Seungmin.

He takes a big sip from his drink, grinning happily. 

“Are you finally done with that project Professor Cho assigned?”

“Yes, thank god,” you roll your eyes.

“Good,” he laces his fingers with your hand on top of the table.

“Now you can focus all your attention on me again,” he bats his eyelashes. 

“Awww, was my Minnie jealous of my biology class?” You coo.

“Never,” he wrinkles his nose. “I don’t get jealous.”

“Riiiiiiight,” you nod. “So what do you call that time you ignored Jeongin for two weeks because, and I quote, he was ‘breathing too close’ to me?”

“I just didn’t want any of his stupidity to rub off,” Seungmin says sincerely. “You need every brain cell you can get.”

You scoff and try to break free from where his hand holds yours, but his fingers just tighten their grasp.

“Okay, well what about that time you blew up on Changbin because he fell asleep in my lap?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow at the memory.

“That was, like, a week before we made it official,” he insists. “It wasn’t jealousy, it was anxiety.”

“And who’s fault is it that it took us so long to get together?” You tease.

“Jisung’s,” Seungmin says immediately.

“Okay,” you admit. “That’s like, half true.”

Before you and Seungmin started dating, before the two of you were even friends, there was Han Jisung.

You met him on the first day of college orientation. He latched onto you immediately, claiming that you were the only one who seemed nice enough to be friends with someone as annoying as him. You thought he was just trying to be funny, but after three days non-stop with hi, you learned the hard way he was being dead seriously. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), he was annoying in the exact same way as you, so the two of you got along splendidly.

Seungmin on the other hand had no choice in his relationship with Jisung. Neighbors by chance, childhood friends by force, the two of them were attached at the hip all throughout middle school and high school. In what your boyfriend describes as a cruel twist of fate, Jisung even ended up following Seungmin to university a few towns over. He jokes about how he’ll never be free of him, but you know Seungmin does actually care a lot about Jisung, even if he refuses to admit it.

Once it became apparent that you were a permanent fixture in his life, Jisung made it his duty to connect the bridge between his two best friends. Unfortunately for him, however, you and Seungmin don’t have the smoothest of starts.

The day that Jisung tries to introduce you is probably the worst day possible. You are irritated and sleep deprived, and Seungmin is a week out from the deadline for his biggest presentation of the semester. In short, the two of you are teetering on the edge of sanity and are a little more than a bit exasperated with Jisung himself.

After staying up all night studying for an exam, the last thing you want is to get wasted and stay out past 2am, and yet that is the most likely fate you face when Jisung drags you out to a party against your will.

You really don’t want to be here, but—well, you figure that since you have nothing else to do, you might as well take a chance to de-stress. The party is still in its first leg and hasn’t grown into the rager that it undoubtedly will be, so it is relatively easy to venture into the kitchen and grab a drink.

The first time you lay eyes on Kim Seungmin is when you make your way back to Jisung. The two of them are standing in the backyard, locked in a tepid conversation as you approach.

“Seriously, Jisung,” Seungmin says, running a hand through his hair. “This is why you dragged me out of the library?”

The first thing you notice is how hot he is. Tall, strong jawline, angular face, chocolate eyes. 

The second thing you notice, almost immediately after, is how unhappy he looks to be here. Even more unhappy than you.

“C’mon,” Jisung whines, tugging on Seungmin’s arm. “It’s just for a little bit, and I promise Y/N is cool! Is it a crime that I want my best friends to be friends?”

“It is when I have a ten page paper due tomorrow,” Seungmin mutters.

You don’t blame him for being pissy, but something about the way he says it, with such clear disdain in his voice, rubs you the wrong way.

“Nice to meet you too,” you say sarcastically as you come to a stop next to them.

“Y/N, there you are!” Jisung exclaims happily, latching on to your arm too.

You take a sip of your drink, pushing down the wince that threatens to spread across your face at the taste of pure battery acid jungle juice. And the entire time, you maintain eye contact with Seungmin, never breaking even as you swallow.

To his credit, Seungmin stares back with no hesitation. If you hadn’t been annoyed with him, you probably would have found his confidence insanely attractive. Instead, it annoys you even more. 

And while the two of you are locked in an intense staredown, Jisung stands in between you, one arm still linked with yours and the other with Seungmin’s.

“Y/N,” Jisung begins excitedly. “This is Seungmin. Seungmin, this is Y/N.”

“Right,” Seungmin says dryly. “No offense. I’m sure you’re great...”

The rest of the sentence is implied: “...but I have better things to do right now.”

“You too,” you can’t resist jabbing back.

“So nice to meet you,” Seungmin says briskly. It’s not rude, but it’s not not.

“Not sure if I can say the same,” you respond, a smile stretching across your face despite the acid in your tone.

“G-Guys...” Jisung interrupts nervously, but neither of you notice. 

“Right...” Seungmin says again, nodding slowly.

Despite your abrasive remark, he doesn’t show much reaction. His apathy is like an itch under your skin; in the end, that is what annoys you the most. 

(Now, you love how cool and collected Seungmin can be. But back then, when you first met him, you hated it.)

“Well,” Seungmin turns to Jisung, who has gone as pale as a sheet by now. 

“We met. I’m going to go now.”

“W-What—?” Jisung stutters. Before he can intervene, Seungmin nods once at you and turns, taking three long strides away from you.

By the time Jisung finally finds his words again, Seungmin has already disappeared.

The next time you meet Seungmin is at one of the first movie nights at Hyunjin and Minho’s. It has been a few weeks since Jisung’s failed attempt to introduce you, and you are already cozy on the couch next to Felix when Seungmin walks in.

Jisung is in the middle of telling a very animated story to Minho when he spots Seungmin and immediately freezes. The color leeches from his face so fast that you think he might pass out, but it is only when he looks quickly between you and Seungmin that you realize exactly why he looks so nervous.

“Min,” Felix says happily. “You made it!”

Seungmin nods, his eyes briefly passing over you before he spots the empty spot next to Chan and makes a beeline for it. 

After a little time and a lot of sleep (and maybe just a tad bit of reflection) you have come to the realization that maybe your reaction to Seungmin at the party wasn’t warranted. After all, he was entitled to be annoyed at Jisung and the situation in general, and it wasn’t you specifically that he was irritated about, so you have no reason to take it personally or hold a grudge.

Which is why you’re not annoyed at Seungmin’s presence. tonight. Instead, you can’t help but feel a little bit... awkward. Chagrined, maybe?

You might feel calm but Jisung is two seconds away from pissing his pants. In fact, he’s so desperate to clear up any misunderstandings that halfway through the movie he texts you for an emergency rendezvous in the kitchen.

“IpromiseIdidn’tknowhewasgoingtocometonight!” Jisung blurts out in one breath once you two are away from the rest of the guys.

“Okay...?” You raise a brow.

“So, like,” he blabbers, “don’t hate me! I love you both and I’m sorry for forcing you guys to meet—”

“—Jisung,” you interrupt. “It’s okay.”

“Really?” He asks uncertainly.

“Really,” you affirm.

“Okay,” he nods, and you feel the overwhelming urge to give him a paper bag to breathe into. Not because that is the proper treatment for hyperventilation—precisely because it isn’t, and maybe if he passes out then he’ll stop worrying.

When you walk back into the living room, Seungmin doesn’t even look up at you, but you have the strangest feeling that he knows exactly what you and Jisung were talking about.

Later that night, you loiter around the apartment a little bit longer than you usually would, just to avoid leaving at the same time as Seungmin. Your plan backfires, though, when Jisung has to leave early. You try to hang around a little bit longer, but then Minho and Hyunjin start to wonder why you are still there, and you have no choice but to leave. 

Which is how you end up trailing awkwardly after Seungmin on your walk back to your apartment. It takes him precisely two minutes to notice that you are behind him, and then three more before he comes to a halt.

“I’m not following you!” You insist immediately. “My place is just in this direction too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay...” you parrot back awkwardly.

“So,” Seungmin begins a moment later. “I just... I wanted to apologize.”

“What?”

“For that night at the party,” he clarifies. “I was kind of... no, I was very stressed. And rude. It wasn’t cool for me to treat you like that.”

You are so stunned you don’t know what to say.

“Jisung speaks very highly of you,” Seungmin continues. “And I swear, if it had been any other day, I wouldn’t have been such a dick. Not that it’s any excuse...”

“Well,” you begin, a warm blush spreading over your cheeks. “I don’t think that’s really your fault. I was kind of a bitch, too.”

His serious facade cracks and a small hint of a smile peeks through.

“Either way,” Seungmin says. “I did actually want to make a good impression, believe it or not, so... Do you think we could start over?”

You don’t even have to think before you respond, “I’ll gladly erase that version of Y/N you met for this one. I promise, I’m not always that rude.”

His face breaks into a bigger smile, and it almost takes your breath away.

“Well,” he says. “That makes two of us.”

That is the beginning of your friendship with Seungmin. After that first movie night, you start to see him more frequently on campus. Then, the new semester starts, and you find that the two of you share an intro to film class.

Almost naturally, the two of you start to hang out more and more, and you begrudgingly realize that maybe Jisung was on to something when he insisted that the two of you meet.

It is only when you’re too deep in and the feelings (romantic, of course) for Seungmin have really started to take root do the two of you realize—even though you rehabilitated your relationship, Jisung still thinks you hate each other. 

This realization hits on a Friday at a party that Changbin drags the entire group to. This time, thankfully, both you and Seungmin do want to be there, and the night is going well.

(At least, as well as it can when you are grappling with the complicated newfound feelings you have for a recent friend-slash-study buddy.)

Then, in the midst of a tequila the midst of a tequila-induced haze, Jeongin finds you and Seungmin on the dancefloor.

“Hey!” he shouts. “You guys are friends, right?”

Seungmin looks at you, then shrugs.

“Yeah!” You shout back. 

“Then why,” Jeongin asks, “is Jisung about to have a mental breakdown about you two?”

“What do you mean?”

He keeps whining to Changbin about how horrible it is that you two hate each other!”

“We don’t—” You begin.

The realization hits you and Seungmin at the same time, and it’s like you can see the lightbulb go off in his head. 

“Oh...” you mutter.

“Oh,” he agrees.

“You guys are weird!” Jeongin shouts, eyes flitting between the two of you as you stare at each other.

“Heyyyyyy!” Jisung shouts even louder, his voice anxious as he comes to a stop between you and Seungmin.

“How are you both doing?”

His nervousness is almost laughable, but when you look at Seungmin, there is a devious twinkle in his eyes.

By now, you know him pretty well. And that look? It tells you only one thing: that he’s about to do something to fuck around with Jisung.

“I’m fine,” Seungmin says primly. His tone is such a stark contrast to how he was speaking only moments ago—it is guarded and prickly, and you catch on immediately.

“Who knows,” you mutter a moment later, going along with Seungmin.

“So you guys—” Jisung begins wearily.

“He keeps following me,” you point out.

“She keeps following me,” Seungmin rebutts.

“R-Really?” Jisung asks nervously. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “I’m going to find Felix.”

Seungmin averts his gaze quickly, but not before you see the way he is biting back his laugh. And when you turn on your heel and head outside, a smile is plastered to your face as Jisung begins to badger him with questions.

The smile remains glued in place as the sound of Seungmin fibbing fades into the background.

That is the first time you pretend to still dislike each other in front of Jisung. The next time it happens is right before Hyunjin’s birthday when Felix ropes everyone into baking brownies for him. After that, it is when you and the guys go paintballing and you and Seungmin end up on opposite teams.

The fun of it is always how flustered Jisung gets. None of your other friends actually believe that you and Seungmin dislike each other—they know better than that. But Jisung, with his whole chest, thinks you and Seungmin hate each other. (Never mind the fact that you can’t look at him without hearts in your eyes...)

Once the charade started, you and Seungmin never clarified how long you were going to play along with it. Eventually, months have passed, and then when he finally works up the guts to ask you out officially, the face remains firmly in place.

Which is how you wind up here, six months later and happily dating, with your mutual best friend under the assumption that you guys actually hate each other.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Seungmin asks as he takes a sip from his iced Americano.

“How irritating you were when we first met,” you say wistfully, tapping your fingers affectionately on the back of his hand.

“Hmmm? I recall you being just as irritating,” Seungmin tells you. 

“Me?” You gasp. “I’m an angel. I could never.”

“More like a devil in disguise,” he rolls his eyes.

“If I’m a devil, what does that say about you?”

“What can I say? I love charity work,” he declares dramatically. “You’re my community service project.

“I’m telling your mom,” you attempt to pull your hand out of his, and this time you succeed.

A pout stretches across his face, and it only takes a few seconds for you to break and lace your fingers with his once again.

“You’re scared of my mom,” Seungmin challenges, a lazy smirk stretching across his face.

Butterflies swim through your stomach, but you shove them down at the obvious jab.

“I’m not scared of her!” You insist. “I’m scared of meeting her. There’s a difference.”

“Sure, babe,” he nods solemnly.

“I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you are,” he placates.

“Stop looking at me like that,” now it is your turn to pout.

“Like what?” He asks innocently. 

“Like you think I’m cute.”

“But I do think you’re cute,” Seungmin points out.

“Well,” you say, flustered. “Stop!”

“It’s your fault for looking like that,” he says. “I’m not making you do that. In fact, don’t you think it’s more unfair for me?”

“How?” You narrow your eyes.

“I should be the cute one in the relationship,” he says like its obvious. “It’s not fair that you’re more adorable than me.”

“Awww, Seung,” you light up.

“I think you’re very adorable, and—” you coo, but stop short when something outside the coffee shop window catches you by surprise.

“—And I hate you,” you finish shortly, shoving Seungmin’s hand out of yours and crossing your arm with a huff.

“What?” He mutters, confused. “Wait, what just happened? Did I do something wrong?”

You roll your eyes, scooting your chair away from him. A distinctive chime rings, indicating that the door has been opened and then closed.

“Babe—” He begins, but then he stops too.

“Bab-y,” Seungmin says derisively, arranging his face into a mask of cool disdain.

“I’m calling you a baby.”

“Nice save,” you mouth, and Seungmin sticks his tongue out at you.

“Y/N,” Jisung’s voice comes behind you. “Seungmin! What are you guys doing here... Together?”

He sounds equal parts shocked and horrified, and for a moment you feel bad for him.

Then you remember that time last month when he woke you up at the ass crack of dawn and dragged you on a hike up a mountain, only to abandon you halfway up because he got a call from the girl he’s been hooking up with to come over, and you suddenly don’t feel bad anymore.

“Our professor assigned a group project,” Seungmin fibs seamlessly. “Y/N and I got paired up.”

“No need to sound so annoyed,” you say sweetly, kicking him under the table. 

(It’s less of a kick and more of you playing footsies with him, but it has the desired effect when Jisung’s eyes flit nervously around and Seungmin’s finger twitches ever so slightly towards your hand.)

“Who said I’m annoyed about it?” Seungmin asks, a serene smile stretching across his face.

“You did,” you tell him. “Many times, actually.”

“I’m more than annoyed. Exasperated, maybe, or incensed.

“Anyways,” you roll your eyes, barely able to keep your laughter at bay.

The funniest part about this conversation is that Seungmin isn’t completely lying.

Although the two of you aren’t currently working on anything, you were paired up a few weeks ago. Throughout the project, he couldn’t stop complaining about how annoying it was to be paired up with you—he claimed you were a pretty distraction, and that he couldn’t be expected to get any work done around you when he could kiss you instead.

“What are you doing here, Jisung?”

“I was just passing by!” He says shrilly, a little bit too fast.

Your raise an eyebrow. Recently, any time Jisung finds you and Seungmin in a (fake) argument, he can’t seem to escape fast enough. Individually, he has no problem being around you two. But it’s like he’s afraid to be standing in the blast zone when it comes to you and Seungmin together—which, in your opinion, is hilarious. 

The farce, then, is both amusing and beneficial, which is probably why you and Seungmin have dragged it out for so long. Because god knows, if Jisung knew that you and Seungmin actually liked each other, he would never give you any alone time.

His two best friends being friends is his dream. His two best friends dating? Frankly, you’re scared to see how he would act...

“Passing by?” Seungmin asks. “This far away from campus?”

“Yup!” Jisung exclaims cheerily. “And would you look at that? It’s already 4pm. I’ve got to go! I’ll see you later, bye!”

He is already inching towards the door before he begins speaking. By the time he has squeezed all the words out, his hands are on the door. 

You barely have the chance to say a quick “bye!” before he swings the door open and rushes out.

You and Seungmin watch through the window as Jisung speed walks away from the coffee shop, his fingers gripping his bag tightly.

And then, when he is out of sight, you both burst into laughter.

“Sorry babe,” you pout, reaching for Seungmin’s hand once the coast is clear. “I don’t actually hate you.”

“Well, unfortunately,” he clicks his tongue. “I was actually calling you a baby.”

Your pout deepens.

“But you’re my baby,” Seungmin amends, giving you a little kiss on the cheek. You sigh happily, scooting close so you can link your arm through his.

“D’you think we should tell him sometime soon?” You ask. 

A moment of silence passes.

“Nah,” Seungmin says finally. 

“Really?” 

“He was a menace to me throughout high school,” he says. “This is my revenge.

“Okay...” You say uncertainly.

“And, if you think about it,” Seungmin goes on. “It’s his fault that he still hasn’t noticed after all this time. All the other guys know. Even Hyunjin knows.”

“You know, that is a good point.”

“Thanks babe,” he kisses your cheek again, a smirk on his face. “I know it is.”

“Oh, hush,” you mutter, not entirely happy with how smug he looks.

But then, he leans in and finally kisses you on the lips, and you forget why you were annoyed with him in the first place. 

[yandereaffections]

Peter Parker Masterlist (MCU)

this boy is gonna have a whole post just for himself cause damn

The Spider Boy

Headcannons

Pinning

14 and 46 with Peter Parker

“Dont you love me?”  

“I’ll ruin you if I ever see you talking to my love again”

“I sent you more gifts! do you like them?”

Not Crushes Soul Mate

Comforting recently broken up Crush

Pretending to be a couple

Copycat trying to court Crush

Valentines Day

Yandere Copycat

Bullied S/o

Oblivious crush

S/o that loves Physical Affection

Panic attack comfort

S/o who doesnt believe in marriage

jealous cause the kissing scenes in your preforming play

Happy Birthday

Trying to get S/os parents approval

S/o with invisibility power

S/o with a bad home life

Aunt May finding out Peter kidnapped S/o

Kidnapping headcannons

Peter coming into S/os dimension via Movie

S/o who ran away/Disappeared

S/os a mermaid

starting college before him

Teenage pregnancy

Scary movie marathon

Pumpkin Carving contest

Married in LA

Zombie Apocalypse

S/o being frightened from watching horror movies alone

Post Infinity War, Ghost! Peter

First meeting, stalking, and taking pictures of Crush

S/o w/ superiority Complex

S/os the daughter of Tony Stark

Queen S/o

The type of Photos Peter will have of S/o

photoshoping himself into pictures with S/o

Manipulative S/o

“Dont say youre lonely, you have me!”

Halloween HC

“i love you, and ill do anything to prove it”

Body image issues

Yandere Crush

Dealing with another Yandere whose after you

crushs a weeb

Youtuber S/o

S/os protective best friend

Joining the side of his Villain S/o

Jealous cause S/o likes WWE

S/o whose close with their family

Touch starved S/o

“dont run away from me”+ “i need you”

Movie Star S/o

S/o who loves to be doted on

Movie Star S/o prt2

Jealous caused youre shipped with others

Being separated in classes  

Jealous cause S/os spending more time with Ned

Jealous because of S/os protective, clingy Little sister

S/os parents finding out about his yandere traits

Youtuber! Peter obsessing over S/o

S/os friends trying to separate you

Someone else asks S/o to be their Valentine first

S/os father, Tony, not liking peter

Workaholic S/o

Popular S/o

Vampire S/o who feels bad for feeding

Touch starved Peter

Straight Forward S/o

S/o with a terrifying Father

Relaxing w/ you after Spiderman duties

S/o who finally escapes

Athletic S/o

Thinking your cheating

S/o who constantly loses her glasses

Druggie S/o

Childish Drunk S/o

S/o being taken advantage of

Jealous of your friendly Teacher

S/o hiding her chest

S/o Hiding behind him

Comforting Workaholic S/o

Constantly tired S/o

S/o who stalks, takes pictures, and steals peters underware

Trying to break up with Peter

Proposing to Peter

Suddenly jumping on peter for a piggy back ride

Taking a depression nap

Someon flirting with Naive S/o

Selfless Kidnapped S/o

S/os Parents disapprove of the relationship

Short S/o struggling to keep eyecontact

Fighting anyone who bullies peter

Online Crush coming to visit

pyromaniac S/o

Recharging after Finals

Villain S/o dating Peter to kill him

Stoping Server Workaholic S/o

Stopping S/o from fighting

Another yandere kidnapping S/o

S/os Suicide TW

S/o with acrylic nails

Pregnant S/o running away

Getting better score than Peter after he Tutored you

Surprised by how muscular Peter is

S/os a unknown Hero

Peter paranoid at S/os birthday party planning

Stalker S/o forgetting to turn of their cameras Flash

S/o that does archery

Voice actress + Cosplayer S/o

S/o coming to America for College

S/o on her period

S/o asking for tech help at ungodly hours

Emotionally immature affectionate S/o

Sterile S/o

Someone trying to get your pantie shot

Intimidating but sweet S/o

S/o whos chill with Peters yandere traits

Player S/o

S/o with negative affiliations

Learning Sign Language to Adopt a deaf child

Bad, corny pickup lines

College S/o bringing back gifts from their Home Land

embroidery w/ S/o

Avengers finding kidnapped S/o

Gamer Rage S/o

What kind of parent Peter is

S/o accidentally revealing their powers

S/o being harassed because of “Thin Privilege”

S/o Shuting down when kidnapped

Autistic S/o

Tourist Crush

Comforting S/o whose parents are divorcing

S/o who loves to do calligraphy

S/o who Friendzones everything

S/o hacking into Stark Industries

Gluten allergy S/o

Pissed S/o punching a whole in the wall

Starving Succubus S/o

The Purge + Hunted down

S/o whos not allowed to celebrate Halloween

S/o who is immune to Incubus Peter

Kuudere S/o + Haunted House

Overworked S/o due to parents

Stockholm S/o with a Crippling phobia of the outside world

Monster fucker S/o being disappointed she wasnt kidnapped by a Orc

Saying a Werewolf pun to Werewolf Peter

Kidnapped S/o asking for videogames

Stockholm S/o with a Crippling phobia of the outside world PRT2

Werewolf S/o

S/o that can bring dolls to life

Bad Necromancer S/o

Telepathic S/o

Demon S/o

Escaped Naga S/o

Monster S/o Attacking peter

S/o who speaks in older languages the angrier they get

S/o having a breakdown

S/o who is secretly a DJ

Going to halloween party with Dullahan S/o

Exhausted yard worker S/o

S/o not caring for their birthday anymore

Finding out S/os a harpy

Finding S/os sleeping on the streets

People Pleaser S/os friend commits suicide TW

Tsundere S/o

S/o being upset for what peter did in their dream

S/o sneaking out to go Black Friday shopping

S/o staying home for their birthday

Knowing Spidermans peter when he saves S/o

Android S/o finally showing a huge step in affectiom

S/o just moving to NY

S/o escaping to go to McDonalds

Independent Crush in a Zombie Apocalypse

Immortal S/o pranking people in brutal ways

“What if we ran away together, JK kidding… Unless?”

Crush trying to get peter and their friend together

Stalking S/o to their safety

S/o has hyphema

Darlings brothers are terrifying

S/o sneaking out to star gaze

Murdering someone S/o knows

Yandere S/o not liking Aunt May

Witch S/o giving peter a magic Romba

Artist Male S/o gifting peter a portrait of Uncle Ben

Kuundere S/os parents not supporting them

Cat girl/boy S/o

‘Dead’ s/o being found

Dotting on stressed peter

Succubus eating off of affection rather than lust

Bullied s/o fighting back

S/o who acts like a cat when they want his attention

S/os name is hard to pronounce

Yandere letters

1st generation immigrant S/o who isnt good at English

Bratty S/o

Drider

S/o has a friend thats basically their kid

S/o who forgets to eat

S/o who forgets to sleep

Joining S/o in gym

Darling with Fainting spells

S/o who forgets to take their meds

Depressed darling comfort

S/o addicted to monster energy drinks

Izuku Midoriya vs Peter Parker

S/os obsessed w/ space

Keeping naive S/o out of trouble

Male s/o that flirts alot

Motherly S/o

Hunted down by Werewolf peter

Aro S/o who loves physical affection

Pleasing 

Pleasing prt2 

NS FW alphabet A-Z

Sub Peter w/ Male S/o 

Creampied w/ Male S/o 

NS FW headcannons

Using your underwear 

Jerking off in S/os bed when theyre away 

Watching S/o masturbate through closet door 

Omega peter convincing that hes a worthy mate. slightly NS FW

Breeding + Submissive 

Breeding kink 

Worked up in the middle of school 

NON-CON Breeding kink 

Sexually frustrated S/o 

Sitting on Peters face 

Indulging Male S/os dirty fantasy’s of Spiderman 

Soulmate + Somnophilia 

Sensory deprivation w/ Sub Peter 

Somnophilia HC 

Naga Peter NS FW HC

Somnophilia w/ male s/o 

sending him sexy pics 

[houseofbrat]

As someone who works in PR I am ASTONISHED at how bad Kensington Palace is at all of this. It’s the most interesting part of the whole thing for me. Well that, and how much it seemingly vindicates H&M and Harry in particular in what he’s said about the firm and the media’s role in protecting the Heir at all costs.

Yeah I work in PR for a public company and anytime we want to put something out we have to run it up the chain - we need legal and Investor relations and executive approvals.

Even if KP and BP had their individual PR teams, which makes sense, there should still be one main central PR office that everyone answers to that manages the entire royal families PR, makes sure schedules and press opportunities and STRATEGY AND MESSAGING all aligns, before running up the chain for final approvals. There’d be a social team and a crisis team and government relations team and a branding team and a general “talent rep” kind of team, all working in tandem to serve the overall strategy for the royal family.

The fact that there are so many cooks in so many different kitchens is why the royal family has had so many PR disasters honestly for decades now. They’re truly doing it all wrong. So many Worst Practices here, not Best Practices.

It really doesn't seem like there is an overall PR team. Just the separate entities

Yeah and that’s the problem IMO. They are a business that should be run like a business. They should have the individual departments I suggested, and even more, working in tandem.

The fact that there are so many separate entities with different agendas and priorities is a huge part of their problem IMO.

But Charles has been transparent for the most part!! And photographed repeatedly. It’s so bizarre when compared to KP, and feels passive aggressive to me to be honest lolol.

They’re really so so so bad at this 😭😭😭😭 but the British public and the media lets them get away with it 🙃🙃🙃

For heaven’s sake. If she’s recovering nicely, why resort to recycling old photos?

Other sources are making a pretty good case for the fact that it’s a November photo, taken after Catherine and the children visited the baby bank.

Does nobody, and I mean nobody, know how to do PR in that place anymore? Now it's pin all of this on just-recovering-from-abdominal-surgery Kate? Why not on William since they were so proud about how he was the one that took the photo? Somehow they keep making everything ten times worse.

I’m sorry, but I don’t believe for a second that Kate personally edited that photo together in such a way that it had to be killed as inauthentic. The pulling of the photo is likely more about the refusal to provide metadata or the raw image for proof rather than silly Photoshop choices. That isn’t an issue of “mummy going wild on the computer,” it’s a larger organizational issue about trust, transparency, and KP’s overall poor approach to news orgs and the press lately.

Why is Kate taking the fall? Why is William such a lout to let an ill Kate put this on her own shoulders rather than admit KP made an error or say KP is going to reevaluate their practices and make a change?

Are college interns running Palace p.r.? Because I cannot understand how they're botching this so badly. If Kate couldn't/wouldn't pose for a legit photo, then just don't release anything. The Royals are basically dumping tankers of gas on the inferno by playing all these games. 

Sorry, am I going insane? After saying they wouldn’t respond to these conspiracy theories, they

a) responded by putting out a doctored image,

b) responded to the backlash of doctored image by claiming the woman recovering from a medical issue was playing around in Photoshop, and

c) responded to the backlash of editing claims by putting out an image where the person in the photo is supposed to be Kate but could LITERALLY BE ANYBODY.

NONE OF YOU ARE FINDING THIS WEIRD? NONE?!

"Kate's Back"

Well, it is indeed a picture of Kate's back

Apparently the main symptom of her mysterious medical condition is that any photo with her in it immediately becomes grainy, blurry, or with people's wrists trying to escape into a fifth dimension.

Good Lord, I haven't followed a disaster story this closely since Oceangate Titan and this one may be even worse. The narrative is out of control and the rules have gone out the window.

They already lost control of the narrative at this point. No matter what they do now, they will be scrutinized more than they've ever been before. And they seem grossly unprepared for it.

She’s not even facing camera, how is this supposed to help? This just feeds the conspiracy theorists! headdesk

It's becoming a PR nightmare that only Olivia Pope can rescue.

Maybe the better question is that people are concerned about Kate's welfare, and most WERE okay with waiting under the timeline KP initially offered that is she will likely return by or after Easter.

However KP has mismanaged the messaging, and with that concern grows over how weird some of the updates are. The article explains why this medical time out is turning into an absolute PR crisis. It isn't so much about Kates right to medical privacy (she definitely deserves that )

It now is about institutional reliability, the heir William's arguably erratic or unusual behavior or his courtiers' comments, the mess with the all kill photoshopped/Frankensteined photo (which has never happened before with a palace released photo), the very different approaches from BP vs KP, etc etc. It's become bigger than Kate sad to say.

And ultimately now people are worried for her, in a way they wouldn't have been, because things have become so irregular and bungled. So the urgency to make sure she is safe and okay has become louder and more insistent.

“CNN is now reviewing all handout photos previously provided by Kensington Palace.”

“In editorial photography, photojournalists and editors commonly adjust a photograph’s exposure or color balance in order to more accurately reflect the scene. Most news organizations, including CNN, regard it as unacceptable to move, change or manipulate the pixels of an image. To do so would alter the reality of the situation the image is intended to document.”

“In the past, the family’s amateur photographs have been well received when posted on social media. But on this occasion, this photo was also released to media organizations as a handout and the palace wasn’t transparent about the fact it had been adjusted.

That will have damaged the trust between the palace and media organizations – many of which, like CNN, will likely be assessing all royal handouts. The editing storm has undermined the existing relationship and when public interest over any possible cover up escalates, as it has done recently, many news outlets will now have take that speculation more seriously.”

[bcacstuff]

Ok so my take is it's some kind of meeting, interview, getting to know you, whatever you wanna call it. His body language is screaming I'm here I'm listening like he does in interviews, the focused look down, his phone on the table suggests not a date at all he usually has it in his jeans pocket, she has a laptop or something in front of her which idk any date that brings that. This could've been right at the start, no drinks on the table. Still acquainting with each other.

She's not dressed as a young girl in LA on a first or second date, their legs are also not touching as another blogger is trying to suggest, he's actually clearly keeping his away from hers by crossing his legs, and just because that trash site posted she's identified but not public person means nothing. They clearly state they don't post all actual facts. It's whatever people send them. Could be someone said it to stir up more discussion. Honestly everything lately from him has felt like a scream for attention. For a bit of discussion about him. To make him seem a little more important than he is. Even the cinema post. Who on earth would randomly spot him if not organised by publicity??? This entire LA trip has felt like all PR. And maybe she's an interviewer who doesn't want to be put out there maybe they aren't gonna throw her under the bus but want people talking (when I say they I mean Sam's PR people)

You know Anon, I just sit here and most of the time shake my head over all the Anons in my inbox as well as all the 'suggestions' and 'maybes' in the comments.

People jumping to conclusions, people saying things they read somewhere else and make it sound like it is already a fact...

Seriously, where one sees he's smiling and having a good time with 'his date' the next one is claiming their legs are close together and people that do business or have an interview don't sit that close together... the other side sees nothing romantic and it must be business or an interview. And people get all worked up...

I just had my laughs last night, when the pic was posted by DM. Firstly because obviously no flight to catch after his TCA appearance as some blogger claimed she knew from her 'sources'... and I don't see that blogger addressing that in her next posts!

Secondly, all the ones claiming he was sitting behind Ashley in Washington at the rugby game. Do people fail to see how that SS cap was clearly photoshopped on the woman's head? 🤦‍♀️

And when I post he's still in LA, I get a shitload of Anons saying how would I know, well... because I use logic. Plain and simply logic. If I post things, I checked things, otherwise I wouldn't post it. But it seems some people are so terribly suspicious that they need evidence and proof for all, yet at the same time they seem to believe everything posted elsewhere without any shred of evidence.... even the weirdest narrative is taken for granted, rather than wait and see if there wil be more info, and if not so what, do we always need some explanation for everything? Or can we live with, we don't need to know every bloody detail? Oh and btw. he's still in LA today, so the ones claiming he's back in Glasgow... without any evidence and logic, sorry.... stop throwing things out there you would like to see, just see what really happens. You just get embarrassed all the time that when more details and facts surface.

Anyway, back to your summary of events. I agree, it looks like they just arrived, given there are no drinks on the table, just the 'fancy chips' they serve at that Beach restaurant at Shutters on the Beach.

No drinks (yet) on the table, or anything else for that matter, just his sunnies, his phone in front of him and in front of her something that looks like a tablet or laptop

So yes, I agree, if that is a laptop or tablet, that's not what you would bring a date. It gives me a bit the idea of the pics in NYC with the journo of Departures.

But then again, we do not know who the woman is. And there is no easy way to find out, as to me, she looks like millions of other blonde women. That said, the names now thrown out thus far, I don't think any of them match. And to the Anon thinking Ava as she was at the screening of Cinespia as well, please, the woman has tattoos all over her arms...

The pics are quite clear though, so it suggests someone close by took them, not even grainy or vague. Would they not have seen that a pic was taken? 🤷‍♀️

And as long as there are no other details known, I just keep all options open. I can lean more to one or another option, but I rather wait and see if there will be more known in the future. (just see how we found out about Lauren in NYC a year later!)

So that's what I do right now. If you want to do else, have a firm opinion about something, that's totally on you. What I do care for is that you don't come to me later on claiming I said this or that, or another blogger said this or that. I wont entertain that.

PS. I don't like to post the same things over and over again, when there is nothing new or more info about it. So don't expect countless posts about the woman, about who he was with at the screening on Saturday. If I find anything more, you always know I post it with the proof.

[whereismymindnow]

I'm awful with photoshop, but it doesn't mean I'll stop trying.

I've had this written up for a while, figured I'd upload it and see if it sparks a bit more than a few sentences of inspiration.

Dark!Aemond x OFC x Dark!Aegon

"No, father." Aemyra quickly grabbed Daemon's hand as he immediately moved to release Dark Sister from his scabbard. "Stop." His lip curled as she stood on front of him, guarding the one-eyed prince and Cole from his wrath. "Let them play their games." Aemyra whispered softly. At the sound of her exhausted voice, Daemon looked down at his daughter's face and sighed.

Aemyra was known for her pale skin, the peasants whispered that she had been carved from the moon itself, but she was almost ghostly in complexion now that he saw her in the light. She had holed herself up in her quarters over the last few days and Daemon was certain that she had shrunk. Her once bright eyes were reddened from fatigue. The last thing that Daemon wanted to do was leave his daughter alone with the Hightower cunts, but the King's order stopped him from taking her back to Dragonstone. "Look at mama."

Daemon glanced at Rhaenyra, his heavily pregnant wife ushered the rest of the children on to the ship, a hand resting on her back as the weight of the babe strained her. The stress of the Driftmark hearing and the disastrous dinner had taken its toll and his wife had been insistent on taking her children back to the safety of their home. "I will not abandon you."

"You have no choice, father." Her soft hand cupped his cheek and she stepped forward to rest her head against his chest. "You must protect them. They need you."

"And what of you? You cannot fight against all of them by yourself." Daemon inhaled as his drunken nephew stumbled down the steps to stand beside his brother with a grin. He whispered into Aemond's ear causing the corner of his brother's mouth to lift. "Tell me... tell me what they've done to you." Aemyra avoided his gaze and shook her head.

"I cannot. I cannot say it."

Aemond’s hand wrapped around her throat, the feeling of his cold rings made her flinch. “Shhhh.” His tone was gentle as he held her tightly against his chest with one arm. “Keep looking.” Her eyes locked onto their reflection in the mirror. She felt naked as she was dressed only in her thin nightgown having just finished her evening bath.

“You smell delicious.” Aegon stood beside them, quite enjoying how she was kept captive by his brother as he drank from his goblet. “Good enough to eat…” He slowly dropped to his knees and gripped the end of her gown in his hands. His grin was predatory as he pushed the material upwards until it was over her hipbones. Aemyra tried to look away as she was bared to them both but Aemond tightened his grip around her throat in warning.

“Don’t. You’ve played so well thus far.” He took the material from his brother so that Aegon could have full access to their niece’s body.

“Imagine if Daemon could see this.”

“What would your mother think?”

Aemyra would not admit to her father that her uncles had destroyed her behind closed doors. "Just know that I will continue to fight. I won't let them win. I shall be waiting for your return." She gently pressed a kiss to his cheek and tucked her arm under his, steering him to the ship where her mother stood waiting for him.

"Sweet girl..." Rhaenyra shook her head and exhaled a shaky breath. "I am so sorry. I did not wish this for you."

"Do not worry, mama. I shall see you again soon and you can present my beautiful sister to me." Aemyra painted a teary smile on her face and embraced her mother. "Have a safe journey. I shall look after grandfather until you return." 

“Remember what I taught you.”

"You need only send word and your father will bring you to me. Stay safe, daughter." Daemon held out his arm for his wife to take, and despite neither Targaryen wishing to leave their daughter at the mercy of the Greens, assisted her to board the ship. 

Aemyra waited for the ship to leave port before allowing her tears to fall. Oh, how she wished she could join them. She wished that she could go back to her Dragonstone where she felt protected and happy... but she couldn't. Her grandfather's ruling that she would marry Aemond stopped her from escaping. She would never forget the look on her father's face; the murderous rage that filled his eyes as he listened to his brother's words. Despite being kept apart for years, her father was her greatest advocate. She may be the product of a lust-filled night in a brothel, but she was his and he despised anyone that tried to take her away. Aemyra only hoped that Viserys would live long enough to see the error of his ways and dismantle the betrothal. If she could get some time with him, then perhaps she could change his mind. She had her father's silver tongue, after all.

Once the ship was nothing but a tiny dot in the distance, Aemyra wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She could still feel the presence of her uncles a few feet away and she was determined to keep fighting against them, no matter how much they took from her. They could mark and stain her body as much as they wished, but she was a true Targaryen, and her fire burned hot. She would continue to charge into battle, even if she may not win the war. It was not in her blood to submit.

"Ah, niece... all alone." Aegon drawled from behind her. "Rhaenyra must prefer her brown-haired bastards to you. She didn't even look back."

[brickcentral]

🤩 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: jcmimoso Hello everyone! It's time to direct the spotlight toward our community members, and today we will get to know better jcmimoso!

"Hello fellow LEGO photographers, my name is Juan Carlos Mimoso. I'm from Spain and I grew up in the 75-80s. When I was a child I never had access to LEGO, due to economic reasons and poor distribution in my area. On the other hand, I did play with Playmobil and also with Exin Castillos bricks, with which I built spectacular castles.

I am currently a Doctor in Primary Care in a health center, and when in 2020 we suffered the COVID-19 pandemic and forced confinement, I continued working. I changed my work in the clinic for work at home and in the clinic, with no limit on hours and with the uncertainty and feeling of not being able to offer everything my patients needed. That caused me a lot of added stress. I had always liked photography, landscapes, macro, etc... and I relaxed by walking to see the world with photographic eyes. Instead, now I found that I was confined and unable to create new content.

My son had a couple of LEGO minifigures and a small set, and I thought it was cool to take a photo with an interesting background and post it on Instagram. And since then, I have been hooked on toy photography. I have seen that there are many colleagues spread around the world, and communities like Brickcentral, where tricks and ways to take the final photo are freely shared.

I took almost all of the photos with an old second-hand Fujifilm X-E2 mirrorless and the little Fujinon 27/2.8 pancake lens with a +2 or +4 close-up filter attached. I like that combination because it is very small and portable. A couple of years ago I added the Fujifilm X-H1 because, although it is a little bigger, it has a flip-up screen, which makes it much easier for me to make low compositions without having to move the whole equipment to check the focus. This year I bought a 1:2 macro (Fujinon 60/2.4) and so far I like the results, although due to work and family issues I haven't been able to take many photos. I hope that changes in a couple of weeks.

My workspace is typically my desk. I use the PC monitor as a background, or if it's a building without any background at all, and I place everything on heavy, thick medicine books so I can use my tabletop tripod at the right height. For lighting I use LED spotlights (Ulanzi VL49 and Lumecube Air), although I have also sometimes taken photos with matchstick lighting.

My compositions are not very large because as soon as I finish the session I have to put away everything that is on the desk so that I can use it to process the result. I usually take several shots with different lighting, aperture and sometimes even stacking photos to give more depth, although I never usually use the whole stack, but only just enough so that the background does not look too sharp. Later I choose the shot I like the most in Lightroom and complete it with Photoshop for basic retouching such as cloning, filters, etc.

I mainly use LEGO minifigures from various series (Marvel, DC, Ninjago…), although you can also see some Playmobil and Star Wars figures. The main type of photography I do is usually related to medieval, fantasy, sword and sorcery environments, among others.

In my posts you can see that I use extensively the Barbarian (series 11) and Viking (series 20) minifigures. I think it's because they don't usually require much post-processing, but also because they remind me of the 'Conan the Barbarian' comics I used to read when I was a kid. It's my humble way of paying a little homage to great artists who have drawn the Cimmerian since the 70s and who bring back so many memories. I recently acquired the Red-Haired Barbarian minifigure (series 25), which I'm sure will co-star in future photos. In fact, the photo I'm showing you today is the first one I've used it for.

Fortunately, over the years, I saved some Exin pieces, and along with others I've gotten lately, I use them extensively in my creations to mix LEGO with Exin Castles and get a more realistic environment. To this I usually mix all kinds of rocks, sand, grasses and other accessories so that it integrates well with the sword and sorcery atmosphere that I usually pursue in my publications. For inspiration I use old comics, game or movie sequences, and anything I see that fits well with my possibilities and knowledge. I have notebooks full of ideas written down for a better occasion, which doesn't always come. I learn a lot from other fellow toy photographers and I'm always looking for new ways to tell the little stories in my photos.

"

Thank you for accepting our invitation and let the community knows you better!

If you want some insights on the exclusive picture and for a better view of the others, head to our blog at https://brickentral.net/.

- @theaphol, Community Outreach Manager

[adventureswithteddy]

quick question! what camera do you use to take pictures with you and teddy? you've inspired me to take pictures of my plushies when we go out but i'm always in awe of the quality of your photos! i appreciate any and all advice given. have a wonderful day!

Thank you! Maybe a not so quick answer.

All the photos of Teddy here have been taken on a Canon t2i, most all on the stock lens. At this point you could get the body for pretty cheap as it's such an older model.

I always shoot in manual so I'm deciding the settings for each shot. I started off shooting in aperture so I picked the depth of field/amount of light coming in (think small aperture more light with smaller depth, large aperture less light more depth) and the camera chose the shutter speed (how long the shutter is open exposing the frame - light) for me. I have always chosen my own ISO (light again) in part because if you get too high on that your photos will get pretty grainy. As I gained knowledge of the camera and figured out a feel for things (maybe 20k frames later?) I started shooting all in manual. I decided that I needed more control of my shots. Definitely still a work in progress but as I'm getting to over 200k frames on this camera and it's thinking about dying on me I feel pretty comfortable looking at a scene and having a decent idea of what my settings should be before I take a shot. Then if needed I end up dialing in the settings a bit. The most important thing when starting is go take a ton of photos! Play around with the camera and get comfortable! Practice, practice, practice, 10,000 hours to mastery, all the sayings that all come back to: do something a ton to get good at it.

There is something to be said for having an 'eye' for a shot. The Rule of Thirds can definitely help guide you to better photos. Paying attention to lines in the shots, seeing where your eye is drawn naturally and trying to set things up to play on that. I have a few shots that I am extremely proud of, a lot that I am happy with and still others that bother me because they are just not quite right. Then untold numbers that are for me to remember a place but aren't worth sharing away from my eyes.

Doing some color correction in Photoshop can help photos to the next level too, personally I try to keep things pretty natural and don't like a photo when it's been touched too much. But everyone has their own style. To be blunt you don't really see photos anymore, at least ones that are widely consumed, that haven't been touched up in some way.

I could probably ramble away for a lot longer and would happily dive deeper on anything that you want more information on. Keep a sense of wonder in the world, explore and know that there is always more to learn and you'll be off to a good start!

[miguelswifey04]

scandalous—actor! miguel x actress! reader

“for gods sake miguel!! did you fucking cheat on me??” you yelled at him as you ran your hands through your hair. “y/n what? that isn’t true—“

“shut the hell up! it’s a yes or no question.” you fumed as you pointed an accusing finger towards his chest. he flinched a bit but he felt himself become angry as you accused him of cheating. you both knew that being an actor couple in the big spotlight would be chaotic as rumors and scandals would be prominent. that was real life. the media will always be cruel and ruthless but you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt and feel insecure. you knew miguel was just as famous as you were but you still could not help it. you felt horrible that you couldn’t keep your emotions in check. you were too damn prideful to admit it. so you continued to get angry at him.

“why would i fucking cheat y/n?!?! you know this already. i fucking love you!” he rose his voice as he gripped your shoulder sinking his nails in your skin. “then what the fuck is this picture?!” you said through gritted teeth’s pulling out your phone from your pocket as you showed him an article of what seemed to be him and another actress at a restaurant. his mouth slightly parted as his face contorted, running a hand through his brown tousled hair.

“my god y/n, that isn’t even me!! you know how the media can photoshop something and spin a narrative that isn’t even true!! are you that gullible??” he said as he felt rage erupt in his chest. he cannot believe you fell for an article that wasn’t even credible in the first place, “out of all the people i know in my life, you should know this already!!” he shook you back and forth trying to knock some sense into you. you flared your nostrils as you took offense to what he just said to you, but deep down you knew you had taken this way too far.

you hung your head down, “i’m—sorry…it’s just i don’t want to lose you..” unbeknownst to you he held you against him, embracing you. he was way too kind to you and you know you didn’t deserve his act of kindness after you just accused him of something big.

he sighed as he placed his chin on top of your head, stroking your hair. “it’s okay y/n…i understand but remember you need to communicate first instead of going ballistic, alright?” he said as he parted from you looking into your eyes that were filing up with tears.

“yes miguel…i’m sorry. i should be a better girlfriend to you but, my emotions get the best of me..” you said solemnly as you adverted your gaze. he stroked your cheeks and wiped away any tears that had broken free from the realms of your eyes. “yeah, it’s fine. i still love you but let’s work together to overcome these kinds of issues. we’re a team.” you nodded and miguel held you close to him.

[augenblicklich-lila]

cod incorrect quotes #9

This one has a few more quotes since I haven't posted in a couple days. I've been enjoying this whole thing tremendously. Thank you for all the likes and reblogs! Love y'all ♡

the usual jazz, mainly Y/N/Reader stuff, platonic and romantic. Plus a sprinkle of Soapghost ♡♡♡

first speaking appearance for Graves! who'd have thunk? about time. In my defense, I had to do a lot of scrolling to get to him, okay?

- Lila

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛ ♛ （ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ━━✫・*。 ⊂　　 ノ 　　　・゜+. しーーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨)

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛

Soap, tending to Y/N's wounds: How would you rate your pain? Y/N: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend. Ghost: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds. Y/N: FORTY-FIVE SECONDS?!? Ghost: No! Four to five seconds! Soap: Too late!!!

Y/N: If you were to vacuum up jello through a metal tube, well I think that’d be a neat noise. Ghost: I beg to differ. Y/N: Then Beg. (imagining the silence that would follow this brings me great joy)

Gaz: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate, or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate? Y/N: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

Ghost: Soap and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's- Soap: Sentences. Ghost: Don't interrupt me.

Graves: I was arrested for being too cool. Y/N: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence. (a wild Graves appears!)

Y/N: I learned some very valuable lessons from this. Gaz: I’m guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should’ve taken away. Y/N: Death isn’t real, and I’m basically God.

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

Y/N: Walking into a room Sorry I’m late… I was… doing things. Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder Graves: Out of breath THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

Y/N: I prevented a murder today. Ghost, raising an eyebrow: Really? How’d you do that? Y/N: self-control.

Ghost & Soap: Please, we're begging you to go to a doctor. Y/N: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.

Y/N: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you. Gaz: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Y/N: Absolutely not.

Y/N: I made tea. Ghost: I don’t want tea. (bold-faced lie) Y/N: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea. Ghost: Then why are you telling me? Y/N: It is a conversation starter. Ghost: That’s a lousy conversation starter. Y/N: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

Soap: I turned out perfectly fine! Price: Soap, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast. Soap: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!! Y/N, leaning over to whisper to Gaz: should we tell him it was actually Ghost? Gaz: nah Rudy: So he thinks a ghost made it, when it was actually our Ghost? Y/N: beautifully ironic, isn't it?

König: I’m going to take you out Y/N: great, it’s a date! König: I meant that as a threat. Y/N: See you at five! (god, I need to be taken out as well.)

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛ 　 ∧＿∧ （｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。 ⊂　　 ノ 　　　・゜+. しーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨) “Hie thee home, little wanderer.”

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛