#wants just by getting pissed off enough by the fact that he hasn’t gotten it yet

[cripplepunkbarbarian]

The concepts of Grudges and Wights are so funny to me. Every Spirit, Ghost, and Spectral gets an inherit ability that makes it so that if they succumb to madness it buffs them. Imagine if you were made of a substance that makes it so your emotional instability prompts you to rapidly begin approaching godhood. Survival instinct that when you get So Scared you can just shoot lasers now. Get so pissed off about your own untimely demise that you become a big seashell that can teleport or whatever.

[b3ach-bunn7]

IS IT CASUAL NOW? PT 2

The aftermath of you finally ending things with Touya.

—————————————————————————-

It’s hot. So hot that it’s all Touya can think about.

Touya sighs. He can lie so easily, but unfortunately never to himself. He’s not wearing a shirt, just the thinnest pair of shorts he owns. The rickety fan he’d stolen from his dad’s place is pissing him off more than it’s cooling him down. The Todoroki’s all ran hot, Touya the worst. It was a curse passed down from his father and Touya just loved how alike the two of them were. In the winter he wore a hoodie at best, and in the summer he melted. It’s why he found himself in your bedroom on the night/ he couldn’t sleep. You were so cool, your bedroom so still. It’s the only reason he did it. It was nothing to do with you.

Lying again. Touya wishes he could just erase you from his brain sometimes. Cut out the last two years of his life, forget all of it. Because that’s when it started. Not when he met you, but when he started feeling. It’s why he proposed the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing. Too scared to own up to anything but separate enough he’d do anything to get the chance to touch you. He thinks forgetting might be easier than admitting he has feelings for you. But you’ve embedded yourself in everything. He thinks if he slips far enough in his duvet he’ll smell you, that sweet perfume that drives him crazy. There’s a sock too girly and pink to be his on the floor. Pictures of you he hasn’t hung up but burn holes in the bottom of his closet. And Shoto’s incessant nagging to see you again.

It’s been two weeks and three days since he’s last seen you. Touya doesn’t think he’s gotten a good nights sleep since. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the bags under his eyes and the ache of his bones, Shoto is determined to remind him every second of every day. Asking where she is, why isn’t she coming over anymore, how did he ruin it. It’s beyond him how a six year old can read the room so well but that’s besides the point.

You were good with Shoto, though. He remembers the first time you’d met him. He’d walked in on you throwing him in the air and the brat was laughing. He barely did that with him, let alone with a stranger he’d never met. And it stirred something in him. Like maybe one day he could have that with you. A little kid that looks like him, or has that same smile as you. So bright he can’t even look at you for too long.

Touya sits up abruptly. Maybe a cold shower will help. He saunters to the bathroom and raps on the door.

“Occupied!” Fuyumi’s voice rings out. He hears the rush of water and he curses under his breath.

“Hurry up.”

“Shut up, I haven’t even started yet.”

Fuyumi took ages in the shower. All girls did and he had no idea why. You took forever. He could hear you singing sometimes. You didn’t sound the best but you were enjoying yourself. At least when you were taking ages he could join you. That’s when Touya found you the most attractive. Water running down your back, hair slicked back. He loved it the most when you used his shampoo, when you smelt like him. He could close his eyes and pretend for a moment you were somewhere else, just the two of you. That you were together.

He can’t help it. Touya can try to distract himself but it all ends up with you.

Your face. Tears rolling down them, ones he put there. He wanted to comfort you. Tell you that he didn’t think you were just somebody he fucked. It killed a little part of him to say that to you because he could see how much it hurt you. Physically see something inside you change and the tears that had been welling in your eyes finally falling. The way you’d stormed out. The fact you’d removed him from everything, every social media, even Spotify. His message pinging back the one time he tried to text you. The fact you’d called him Todoroki.

The issue is, Touya is cursed. It’s right there in his last name. Todoroki. You knew, of course. You knew all about his father. He’d sat you down once in the back of his car. Each of you with your backs against the window, a pack of gummy bears split open in front of you. And he showed you. Showed you each scar that his father had left at his hands. And then after that, Touya had told you everything. About his mother. About how he treated her. How he hit her, yelled at her. Made her cry like he’d made you cry.

That’s the harsh reality Touya has to face.Because unfortunately for him, he’d spent most of his life with his father. Thirteen long years with him, more than enough time to pick up all those horrible traits the man harboured. Touya was always the most like him. Short temper, quick to argue. And he’d read about it, too. Poured over psychology books and articles when the worries got too bad. Your childhood is where your character was built apparently, where your habits were learnt. Where you’re moulded into the person you’ll grow up to be, all based on the way your parents raised you. And it didn’t take a genius to realise his hadn’t been that good.

And if all that he’d seen was true, then Touya couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t be his father. You were so perfect. You were way too good for him, for all the shit he’d bring you. You didn’t deserve to put up with that. And he knew you wouldn’t listen if he told you that so he had to get rid of you the only way he knew how.

But god, did he indulge in it. In you. Touya didn’t think you’d notice, that it was that obvious. How he couldn’t help but kiss you so tenderly. How he’d hold you any chance he got, had acted bothered when you got along so well with his family. Touya wasn't strong enough not to enjoy you while he had you.

He decides to go downstairs. The house feels stagnant. The windows are open and the curtains his mother had fashioned out of old clothes fluttered in the little wind that blew in from outside. The house was so much smaller than their old one but Touya felt like he could breathe here. It was crazy how much different life was without his father. How free they felt, the weight on his family’s shoulders gone.

His mothers in the kitchen. She’s making bread, he thinks, judging by the flour dusted all over the kitchen. They’re allowed to leave messes like this now. Touya opens the fridge, eyes closing at the cold air that blasts in his face. He grabs a coke. The can cools his palms and he’s half tempted to use it as an ice pack.

“Touya, come help me for a second.” His mother says. He glances over at her. Her hands are white with flour and she points to the bag of it beside her.

“Pour some for me.” Touya sighs, slightly, but listens. He turns to leave once she’s done but she stops him.

“Stay for a bit. Keep your mother company.” She pouts. Touya sighs. This time loudly. He sits down regardless. He takes another drink and the coke tastes like you, the two of you arguing, and he leaves it to the side.

“How have you been, Touya?”

“Fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice isn’t stern but it has that mother tone to it that Touya, even at eighteen, can’t compete with.

“What do you want me to say?” He snaps. She doesn’t answer. Just point/ again.

“More flour please.” Touya pours more. He puts the bag down with a little more force than necessary.

“I’m your mum, Touya. I know when you’re not okay. And I’ve also noticed much less of Y/N around the house.”

Touya shakes his head. “This- it’s nothing to do with her.”

“So there is something wrong?” His mother is smiling slightly, proud of herself.

“Wow. So intuitive, mum.”

She sighs. She dusts off her hands on her apron. As annoying as she’s being, Touya can’t help but love it. It was rare she spoke much when his father was around and he finally feels like he’s learning who she is now that he’s gone.

“You two break up?”

“We were never together.”

His mother perks an eyebrow. “Really? In my day, two people hooking up were considered together.”

“Ew- Mum!” He wrinkles his nose. “Don’t- that’s disgusting.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Well, it’s over. We- She ended things.”

She furrows her brows. “Well that’s not right.”

“What do you mean?”

His mum hums. “Well. She loves you. Why would she end things if she loves you?”

Touya’s eyes are fixed on the table. He shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t love me.”

“She does.”

“Well, she shouldn’t!” He stands up. Runs a hand through his hair and it feels like yours, and he pulls it back like he’s burnt.

His mother is calm. Just watching him. “And why not?”

“Because- because. You know why, mum.” His voice sounds so weak. So pathetic. If only his father could see him now.

“I don’t. Tell me.”

“I-I can’t do it to her, mum. It’s not fair on her.” Touya says.

“But why?”

“Because why if I’m like him?”

His voice cracks, splinters his words in half. His mum looks at him then, like she might cry. There’s something in her face he can’t decipher but it’s out there. He’s said it, the thing that keeps him up at night, that eats at him.

“Honey, you’re not like him.”

“But what if I am?” So pathetic. He feels the prickle of tears and he hates how easily he cries, always has, ever since he was a kid.

“We don’t know. I’ve never been in a relationship, not a real one. What if- what if I was with her and I hurt her. Like he hurt you. I can’t do that to her, mum.”

She storms forward then. Her hands, still floury, grasp his shoulders. Touya should protest but he doesn’t, not when her touch grounds him. It always has.

“You listen to me, you are not your father.”

“What if I am? I’m the most like him, we all know it.”

She shakes her head. “No, honey, you’re not. I spent 15 years with that man. And you are nothing like him. You’re kind and you care for me and your siblings. For the people you love. He never did. And your anger, it’s superficial. You’d never hurt anyone. I know you wouldn’t.”

Touya doesn’t say anything. Just listens.

“Don’t let him ruin your life. I should’ve left sooner, for you. For all of your siblings.”

“Don’t blame yourself, mum.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s no longer here, honey. Don’t let him ruin your life even when he’s not in it.”

Touya breathes in shakily. Wipes at his face furiously. “Okay.”

She rubs his shoulder. Smiles, something bittersweet. “Good boy. Now go talk to Y/N.”

Touya nods. “Okay.”

“And put a shirt on before you go.” He watches his mum's eyes linger on the scars across his body. She turns away and so does he.

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

—————

You hate romcoms. Such stupid awful movies, you think.

Your friends had been over earlier in the day but you wanted to be alone. You’re trying to distract yourself by watching your favourite movies, eating shitty snacks. The issue is, all your favourite movies are about love. Perfect, sappy romances that end with kiss and sex in someone’s bedroom. You hate it. It’s doing nothing but reminding you of him.

Scum. Awful. Horrible. You hope that maybe if you call him enough names in your head you’ll get over him. Or maybe if you eat enough chocolate. At least Noah Centineo looks good in this movie. His peak, you like to think.

A knock at the door stirs you out of your thoughts. You were going to ignore it, but the knocking gets more frantic, and you swear, pushing through the pile of tissues you were sitting in.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

You don't bother cleaning yourself up. You couldn’t care less who’s on the other side of the door.

“You can chill out, okay, the door is not going any-“

Touya. Touya is standing at your door. While you look like absolute shit. But you don’t care. You shouldn’t care. Touya looks worse. His hair is all tussled and you know he’s been messing with it. He always does when he’s bothered by something. His eyes are a little red and you think he may have been crying.

“Fuck off.” You go to slam the door in his face but he puts an arm out.

“Please, wait. Can we talk?”

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood to fuck you. And that’s all I’m for, right?” You smile viciously, and push against the door. He won’t let it go though.

“Y/N, I was wrong. Just let me explain, and-“

“Explain what?” You fling the door open and he falls back slightly.

“Explain what, Touya? It’s been two weeks, and now you want to explain?”

He swallows. “I should’ve come sooner.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

“I was wrong. About everything.” He pleads, inching closer to the door.

You breathe heavily. You rub your eyes furiously and start walking away.

“Come on then.” You snap.

Touya obeys. He walks in quickly before you can change your mind. You sit down on the couch and he sits next to you. It’s silent for a moment. You don’t look at him. You can’t because you know if you do, you’ll forgive him in a second.

“You home alone?” He asks.

You pick at your cuticles. A bad habit you can’t crack. “Yes.”

You think Touya nods. You don’t want to look and check. You pull too hard and one of them starts bleeding.

“Don’t do that.” He says softly, pushing your hands apart. His skin is warm and you pull your hands into your lap. You shake your head.

“What do you want?”

“I love you.”

Touya speaks the words quickly. Like you did before, like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get them out. You do look at him then, and he’s already looking at you. Eyes wide, so blue and searching you think he might be looking into your soul.

“You- You what?” Your voice almost comes out in a whisper.

“I love you. I always did. You were right, you’re not just somebody I fuck. I-i didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” His voice cracks.

“Then- Why did you say all that stuff then? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

The two of you turn, move closer to cover. You don’t even notice, not until his knees are touching yours and that cologne he always uses, woodsy and cool, tingles your senses.

“I was scared. I am scared. I’ve never done this before, Y/N.” He looks down for a second. Looks back up at you.

“I was scared that. That I'd be like my father. End up as cruel as he was. I couldn’t put you through that.”

And it makes sense then. Slowly you piece it all together. Why he sent you such mixed signals. Why he was so distant with you and yet so close, always one step from taking things too far.

“Oh, Touya.” You grab his hand, and it’s warm. It always is.

“I know it’s stupid. But I watched him torment my mother for 13 years. And. What if I was like him? I couldn’t deal with it. It drove me crazy. Every time I got close to you, I’d freak out and I’d pull back.”

You squeeze his hand and he grabs it with both of his, squeezing back.

“I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t mean what I said, none of it. I swear.”

You breathe shakily. “You didn’t?”

“Of course I didn’t. I love you. That I mean.”

You stare at him. Part of you whispers that you shouldn’t trust him. A small part of you that’s still angry he let you wallow for two long weeks with no effort, no contact. But the rest of you. The rest of you is looking at Touya. Who has tears threatening to fall if he blinks just once more, who’s hands are shaking in your own. Touya, who told you everything, had cut himself open and shown you every part of himself he’d hidden from the world. And despite how angry you are, were, you can’t deny that.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me straight away. I understand, I said some really shitty things to you. But fuck, please. Give me a chance to fix this.” He whispers.

Before you can even think you press your lips to his. His hand, soft and calculated, reaches up to cup your cheek and it spurs you into action. You practically fall on him, one hand grabbing his shirt and the other carding through his hair. Oh, and it’s as soft as you remember, white curls tangling in your fingers as you sigh into his mouth. You're straddling his lap now and his back presses against your couch. Touya makes a noise, then, something desperate. He breaks apart and the two of you are breathless. He stares at you for a second before his lips are kissing your jaw, down your neck. He sucks a mark on the spot between your neck and your shoulder and you shiver.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I missed you so much.” He whispers into your skin.

You laugh slightly, and pull him away. “Easy, Touya. I don’t forgive you that much.”

He looks hopeful, despite the blatant rejection of his advances. “So you forgive me?”

You hum, fingers tracing over his skin. “Yeah. I do. Just because I miss Shoto, though.”

He snorts. Places a kiss on your forehead, your cheek. “Good. The little brat won’t shut up asking about you.”

“Really?”

“Don’t look so excited. I saw you first.”

You giggle, falling besides him. You lean into his arm, one leg tangling with his. It’s so simple, so easy to fall into the same routine. You think you should maybe be madder, but you can’t. Not at Touya. You think of the faces of your friends from earlier today and you wince.

“Look, I forgave you pretty easy, but you’re gonna have to put some in work with my friends. You can’t just kiss their anger away.” You raise an eyebrow and he tilts his head.

“You sure?”

“Don’t push it.”

—————————————————————————

guys I physically can’t have angst without a happy ending sorry not sorry 🙈 also plz leave me requests I’m aching to write but I have no idea what!!

[siiren-romqntics]

My Eyes Are Green: A Drabble

It’s half an hour past midnight at one of Vinicius’ parties, and Jude would do anything to be at home right now or have everyone leave because he’s staying at Vini’s place tonight. The party doesn’t care for Jude’s bitchy mood, though, because song after song plays, drinks keep flowing, and a gorgeous girl won’t stop rubbing herself all over Vini.

Jude considers himself lucky that his scent patches are on right now because he knows the entire room would probably be able to smell how pissed he is without them. The smell of spice and burnt cinnamon rolls would probably be a good sign of his jealousy, but the blatant glare he’s throwing at Vini and the girl—some influencer? Small-time model? Jude doesn’t remember, nor does he want to—gripping at his bicep and throwing her head back, giggling sends the message pretty clearly. In the back of his head, Jude swears Vini hasn’t said anything that funny to trigger such a reaction.

Suddenly another wave of anger and jealousy rushes over Jude. He can’t help the way his eyes judge her. Green eyes, light brown skin, and big, bouncy brown hair. She’s not too tall, not too short, and has a nice figure. Jude could already tell, but he caught her scent earlier; she’s an omega. Suddenly, self-consciousness beats like a drum in tandem with jealousy, and while Jude appreciates his own looks and his larger-than-life stature, in moments like these he can’t help but envy being an omega like her. Though he knows his omega identity is just as valid as anyone else’s— His mom making sure to remind him of that—he surrenders to some feelings of insecurity.

It doesn’t help that said pretty omega is all over Vini, his alpha. Well, that’s not exactly true, Vini is not his alpha; they’ve mostly just been messing around, but Jude knows he’s falling hard and fast, so sue him if he can’t stand the way this girl’s trying to rip off Vini’s clothes with her eyes.

At that point he’s decided he’s had enough, gets up in the middle of Fede’s story about how terrifying his son gets when he’s throwing a tantrum, and begins to march over to where Vini and Ms. Model Influencer-Whatever are. The rest of the group pays no mind to his antics, apart from Rodry, who lifts his head to see why Jude’s gotten up and only chuckles and says, “Judy está a la caza,” when he looks to see the situation across the room.

As Jude nears them, Vini has already turned his attention from the omega on his arm and towards Jude. If Jude didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn Vini acknowledged him right as he was just a few meters away, almost like he’d been waiting for Jude to come raging over. As he stands right in front of Vini and sees that stupid smirk lined with canines that just love to mark Jude up, he knows that’s exactly the case.

“Is everything ok, Jude? What’s up?”

Vini knows damn well what’s up, and Jude cannot believe he hadn’t clued into what this fucker was doing sooner. He doesn’t care about this omega; not even for a night, he just wants to watch how pissed off Jude can get because he gets off on it. He’s weird like that—Jude ignores the fact he adores this the other way around as well— and Jude fell for it. He feels pretty stupid now because it’s honestly not out of the blue for him or Vini to flirt with some random person at a party for appearances sake and mean nothing of it. Jude chalks it up to being tired and already in a foul mood as to why he got so riled up. Another part of him knows what he feels for Vini is beginning to go past the friends-with-benefits situation they’ve got going on; he feels like what’s his is being taken.

“Nothing, just thought I’d check in on you.”

And okay, yeah, he feels really stupid now. He can’t believe Vinicius Junior has him acting like this right now. Vini can definitely believe it, though, if the huge grin on his face is anything to go by. The green-eyed omega looks between them a little confused, and Jude would have some sympathy for the poor girl’s puzzled expression, but he’s too busy revelling in how Vini’s attention is solely on him right now. He thinks back to Camavinga calling him an ‘attention whore’ after he scored a screamer in training, and the first thing he did was try and gauge Vini’s reaction—Jude thinks he wasn’t so far off. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Jude; we didn’t get to talk much earlier!” The girl chirps excitedly to him.

“Nice to meet you too, uhh,”

“Jude, this is Tati.” Vini interrupts.

“Right, Tati— you were saying something about how you model before, right?”

“Oh yeah, it’s just commercial right now, and it’s pretty independent—“ And that’s how the conversation goes on for a while; she talks, Vini adds his own little quips, they flirt, and Jude hopes some higher power strikes down all three of them. When it’s gone on for a few minutes and Jude is thinking about leaving, feeling incredibly stupid he let himself get sour over Vini flirting with another omega knowing they’re not exclusive, the conversation’s stopped and it’s quiet. Jude looks up from his moping and staring down at his shoes to see Tati’s gone and it’s just Vini staring at him softly.

“What happened to your model? She got bored of your shit jokes?” Jude is still ticked off. It gets Vini laughing, and Jude is struggling to stay mad because Vini’s laugh is one of his favourite things ever. “No, I asked her to get some more drinks, and I’m hilarious; I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vini responds after he’s done giggling.

“Oh, come on, baby, you know I was just flirting for fun—you know, appearances and all that.” Vini tries to appease Jude, who is still glaring at him. Honestly, Jude knows Vini is right, but jealousy and what he feels for him aren’t exactly rational. “Is that why you spent so long talking to her and letting her throw herself all over you even when I was right in front of you?” Jude questions because he can be incredibly stubborn when he’s like this.

“Ok, well maybe I just wanted to see how your face screws up and the way you tensed whenever she giggled.”

“You think that shit is funny, don’t you?”

“I think you look hot as fuck when you’re jealous is all.”

And Jude would call him out for being such an idiot if he also wasn’t feeling pent up and ready to fuck Vini, filled with frustration and jealousy. It seems Vini can sense the warm feeling in Jude’s belly because his grin goes even wider, and those canines are flashing at him. Some omegas might feel a type of way when an alpha flashes their teeth at them like this; it is a sign of dominance after all, but Jude just gets horny knowing what those teeth do to him.

“Oh my God, Jude, you’re getting off on this too, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, Vini.”

“You like when I get you mad; you want me so bad—“

Suddenly, Jude grabs Vini and takes him to a more secluded area, where prying eyes won’t see him shove Vini up against a wall in one of the many hallways in his lavish home.

Jude is doing his absolute best to look intimidating, but it’s all failing because Vini is staring at him with this dopey smile while his hands move up and down his sides, and that does nothing but infuriate him further as well as make his body heat up. He needs Vini so badly right now but isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“Are you done yet?” Vini teases him because right now Jude looks more like an angry kitten than whatever persona he’s putting on.

“Done with what?”

“Done acting like you’re not dying to let me bend you over right now?”

“I’m not dying for it—“

“Oh, but you want it?”

“I didn’t say that either— also, you looked very pleased to have another omega get on her knees for you. What changed?”

Vini’s hands on his waist grip him tighter, and it’s at that moment Jude realizes Vini wants this just as badly as him, if not more. He’s showing all telltale signs that he’s about to lose it over Jude— constantly licking his lips, can’t keep his hands off his body, and is starting to nose at his neck. Jude’s got on a shit-eating grin of his own when he realizes he’s got Vini wrapped around his finger.

“Fuck Jude, what do you want me to say? I don’t care about her, and I really want to be in you right now?! Can we move this to a room already?” Vini’s scent gets headier, arousal building.

Jude starts to untangle himself from Vini’s arms. “Hmm, I don’t know. I’m pretty tired, and I’m not sure you’re interested…” Jude starts his own teasing.

“Wait, wait, wait! Ok, I’m sorry the joke wasn’t funny; I won’t try it again, and you’re the only omega ever, Jude, please—“

“Ok, ok—oh my word, hurry up and pick a room already.” Jude relents because he can’t stay mad at Vini even if his life depended on it, and he honestly doesn’t want to hold back any longer. He doesn’t even attempt to hide his smile as Vini kisses all over his neck and face as a last apology.

They sneak off to Vini’s room and lock the door, tripping over each other and giggling all the way as they fall into bed together once more.

[snickerdoodlles]

Hi hello me!!! I would like a headcanon please!! 🤲🥰

❤️❤️.

Chay does not like Khun or Kinn when he first meets them. it takes special circumstances for him to shake his first assessments of them to even give them a chance.

Khun’s the easy one—he and Chay match well in personality (the mutual sass when they introduce themselves my beloved!! 🥰) and while they don’t share the same interests, they have enough overlap they have a lot of fun hanging out together. But after their introduction, the parts of Khun that Chay sees are him trying to cope with the chaos Korn’s stirring and Khun’s coping mechanisms, dissociation, and distancing from the stress and triggers come off as very dismissive and even cruel. Chay doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t know Khun well enough to, and he doesn’t try to (why would he? this mafia family ruined his life)

In my mind, the changing point for their relationship comes after the finale gunfight—Porsche begs Chay to stay with Khun because they’re stretched thin and Khun’s spaces are the safest place for him right now. Chay hates it, but accepts it for Porsche, figuring he’ll just hide in a corner or something and ignore everyone.

But, at some vague point during all this, an alarm goes off. Turns out to be a false alarm, but before they figure that out, Chay watches Khun lock down his room, locate his brothers and Porsche, hunt down the problem, etc—basically Khun goes full protective mother bear in every way he can, and a few things start clicking for Chay. because he too is extremely protective of his loved ones but limited in what he can do, and it completely reframes his view of Khun and who he is.

Kinn and Chay’s relationship takes a lot more work.

The first problem is that they have a fundamental personality clash—Chay’s whole thing is that he draws a circle around the people he cares about and guards them jealously. He wants to share their burdens and make sure they’re happy. Chay would burn the world for the people in his circle, consequences be damned. And for a very, very long time, Porsche is the only person in that circle. Kim is the second. Chay hasn’t even considered adding anyone else yet.

Kinn also cares a lot about his people, but his whole thing is taking on all his people’s burdens. He gave up his dream to become the heir for Khun. Kim never would’ve been able to go to college and stay mostly out of mafia business the way he does without Khun and Kinn supporting him completely. Kinn plays his cards to protect other people (Porsche) more than himself and he’ll put himself in the line of fire to protect any of his guards. Kinn’s circle is huge, and quick to expand. Chay doesn’t get Kinn.

Plus, Chay’s upset and kinda jealous Kinn’s so important to Porsche. He hasn’t gotten the chance to deal with the fact that Porsche abandoned him for weeks to go take care of other people—he knows Porsche was coerced and he’s pissed about that too, but Porsche chose to lie—and now Porsche is confiding in Kinn the way he never did with him. Chay’s still pissed about everything in general. He wasn’t happy when Porsche asked if he could take care of him and Kinn, his face just screamed ‘he’s rich and has a whole building of guards, why do you have to take care of him’, but this was also the first time Porsche has ever asked him for anything and Chay will always compromise for the people in his drawn circle, so of course Chay said yes. But the mafia still ruined their lives, is continuing to ruin their lives, and Kinn is the face of said mafia. Entirely fair? No. He’s mostly pissed at Korn, and Kinn’s getting some of that anger just because he’s available whereas Chay doesn’t interact with Korn. But these sorts of feelings aren’t rational, and Chay’s too trapped in it all right now to get a chance to even safely think through and process how he really feels. So for now, Chay’s just scared and trapped and angry and hiding all of it under overt politeness and courtesy and running away from him as soon as he can make an excuse.

Now, I do actually think Kinn and Chay will become really good in-laws one day, I can see them getting on together spectacularly.

But not without getting rid of Korn first. Or at least some extenuating circumstances that give them a break from Korn’s shadow where they have a chance to have a good heart-to-heart. It’s actually one of my favorite scenarios to throw at them in fics in general, Chay’s straightforward approach to life plus Kinn’s caution and determination make for a wonderful combination in Getting Shit Done 🥰

anyways the tl;dr of this is the only Theerapanyakul Chay instantly gets on with is Kim, the others have a mountain to climb first

Send an ask, get a headcanon

[ryuichirou]

Thoughts on Rollo Flamm if you havent gotten this ask yet? SFW and NSFW headcanons? Also thoughts on MallRollo?

I’ve talked about MallRollo in this reply!

We love Rollo a lot. I think his design is one of the best twst designs, I’ve spent hours staring at him. His sprites are also great, he is so delightfully cranky and evil and over-the-top, like a feisty kitten lol And at the same time, he is deeply traumatized and a huge hypocrite, but all of this only makes him better. He is a very entertaining character; I miss him a lot :(

I also really appreciate the similarities he shares with Idia, and how differently they approach their fairly similar traumas; it was great to hear Idia speak about it and try to address Rollo’s feelings, but still call him out and acknowledge that none of the horrible things Rollo’s experienced could be used as an excuse for what he’s doing right now. And what I love even more is that Idia’s speech didn’t really help and only pissed Rollo off even more, because Rollo wasn’t ready to accept that what he’s experiencing is grief, and that he is just trying to retroactively fix something that could never be fixed by blaming people who had nothing to do with his tragedy. Since the event clearly happened post-chapter 6, Idia had already found some closure about what happened to Ortho; but Rollo clearly isn’t there yet. But it’s great, because I enjoy it when he yells and curses everyone and blames everyone and especially Malleus who just wants to have a good time lol

Oh, and the fact that he is voiced by Kamiya Hiroshi is also great, although he has like 3 lines. I wish the events were voiced.

Alright, sooo a couple of headcanons. Not a lot this time, since I can’t really say much.

There are people in Rollo’s school who have a crush on him. Rollo tries to ignore that, because the prospect of someone confessing their love to him sounds overwhelming and troublesome. He would probably reject this person anyway, so no one even tries to confess to him.

One of the gargoyles was Rollo’s first kiss. They were just teasing him and playing around, but Rollo took it very seriously. Although if you asked him, he would probably say that he hasn’t kissed anyone yet. And that this is a foolish question to ask someone.

His body is obviously mature enough to experience sexual urges, his mind also wanders into this territory sometimes, but he is still bothered by it. He doesn’t want to wake up with dirty underwear and worry about getting an erection at the worst moment possible. It does happen with him though.

Not only he experiences sexual desire, he is also very kinky, despite being such a prude. It’s like a Pandora’s box for him, deep inside and subconsciously he is afraid that once he opens it, there isn’t going to be a way to close it anymore. He isn’t wrong…

He is masochistic and also someone who would actually enjoy getting overwhelmed by both pain and pleasure, because it’ll make his thoughts and feelings too numb for some time. That’s why once he opens that door, he might take things very far and be quite brutal to himself.

[quietwingsinthesky]

AO3 may be down but that doesn't stop the samifer train from rolling.

Here's an old wip that i finished up just now. probably not perfect given that it's currently midnight and im half asleep, BUT. it is sweet.

So uh. nothing worth more than a PG-13 rating here. contents include cuddling. so much cuddling. gentle kissing. praise. lucifer getting loved on a ton. but also this is all sort of framed in the context of a non-sexual soft CNC scene. (aka Lucifer tells Sam to stop/says no and is ignored. Safewords are pre-established, used, and respected later on though.) This is peak 'fic that appeals only to me' moments.

There are rules for a reason. Lucifer’s not supposed to mess with them when they’re hunting because the power imbalance here is already well and truly fucked, and Sam isn’t about to invite Lucifer to interfere where he shouldn’t. Although, maybe he should have been less focused on Lucifer hypothetically being too helpful and making their efforts obsolete and more on the fact that Lucifer can make himself into a nuisance when he really wants to. Between him showing up when they were talking to the survivors, and distracting Sam when he was trying to research, and what happened at the morgue (which he is not thinking about ever again,) he’s more than proven that he can be a pain in the ass.

And where Dean took it at face value that the devil was getting his kicks pissing them off, Sam’s not angry. He’s worried. Lucifer is, without a doubt, arrogant and difficult and petty, but he doesn’t act without reason. Sam takes a step back, breathes, looks at how he’s acting. Only then does he approach Lucifer with the knowledge in hand to take care of the problem.

Or, maybe more accurately, Lucifer comes to him. Sam’s in the shower when he hears something in the other room fall and shatter on the floor. He nearly slips when he snaps towards the noise. He’s barely gotten out of the shower when he hears it happen again. A third time as he’s pulling the bathroom door open, on edge and expecting a fight. All he gets is Lucifer sitting at the tiny table the motel provided them with, staring at a pile of glass on the floor. Sam’s about to ask what’s happening when Lucifer blinks, and the glass reforms on the table. Lucifer looks up at him. Makes eye contact.

He knocks the glass off the table again. It shatters.

Sam sighs.

“Clean that up,” he says. Lucifer looks at the shards on the ground.

“Why should I?” As though he hasn’t broken and remade the same glass three times now. Sam goes to his bag to start getting dressed. He feels uncomfortably damp, but he’s got the sneaking suspicion that if he leaves the room now to go get a towel, more things are going to start breaking. Things that are more valuable than a cup.

“Because if you don’t, I’m probably going to forget about it and step on a shard.” Sam has had glass pierce his skin more than enough times in his life, thanks. When he turns back after having pulled on his pants, there’s no more glass on the ground and Lucifer is frowning at nothing. He turns his gaze on Sam like it’s a challenge. Sam doesn’t falter. “Is there a reason you’re being a brat?” Lucifer doesn’t answer, only narrows his eyes. Sam shakes his head and tries to approach him.

“Are you going to punish me?” Lucifer says, glib and sharp, but the way he tenses when Sam comes closer betrays him. Sam can’t hurt him, except in the ways that matter. Lucifer waits for rejection like it’s a blade against the back of his neck. This is him goading Sam to swing.

“Yes,” Sam says, and the way Lucifer actually relaxes at that breaks his heart. It's as though one of these days, he thinks Sam will actually follow that up by trying to hurt him. Sam reaches out to touch him instead. Lucifer looks confused when that’s all he does, hand resting against the curve of Lucifer’s jaw, feeling stubble prick against his palm. Sam lets it stay there for a minute. Lucifer remains frozen under the touch. He will understand that this is how Sam will punish him. Sam strokes his cheek. “Come lay on the bed with me.” Lucifer tilts his head away from Sam’s hand, but Sam follows, pressing warmth into Lucifer’s chilly skin.

“What?” Lucifer asks.

“Come lay down,” Sam repeats, slower. If Lucifer feels condescended to, then tough, Sam has to be as clear as possible to get through to him.

“That isn’t a-”

“You don’t get to decide.” Sam withdraws his hand. For all that Lucifer was trying to lean away from it, he still looks miserable that Sam’s not touching him anymore. Sam turns and walks back to the bed. He always gets one big enough for Lucifer and him to share, now. (And Dean gets to have a whole room to himself. It’s a win-win.) For a minute after he lays down, he’s not sure Lucifer will follow him. He’s stuck sitting across the room, staring at Sam like he’s lost it. He stands slowly, unsure, and he stills again.

Sam pats the empty space next to him. Lucifer jerks forward like Sam just-

Yanked on his leash is not a thought Sam should be having about Lucifer right now.

He far more dressed than Sam is. The first step is getting him on the bed. The second is getting his coat and over-shirt off. His jeans have to go, too, and that leaves Lucifer half-naked and kneeling in front of Sam on the bed, fists clenched against his bare thighs. Sam reaches up and touches his face again. Lucifer’s confusion returns, though now there’s a touch more panic in his eyes. Sam holds back from shushing him like he’s a scared animal. Instead, he lets his hand slide back, under Lucifer’s ear, brushing the short hair at the bottom of his skull, and then holding firmly onto the back of his neck. When Sam pulls him down, Lucifer resists. Sam pulls him down anyway.

Sam keeps his hand on the back of Lucifer’s neck, firm and unbreakable. If he really wanted to leave, there’s no amount of force Sam could exert to stop him, but when Lucifer struggles, he doesn't make Sam's hand budge an inch. Eventually, he stops. He stays tense against Sam. Sam promised punishment, and punishment for Lucifer has only meant pain and isolation for a long time. This, Sam knows, will be much harder for him to bear and far more effective. Sam settles back.

I want to be kind to you. I want to be gentle. I know you can’t believe this because you don’t know what it looks like, but that’s all I want for you, forever, but Sam can’t say any of that. Lucifer will lash out at it as a lie or recoil from it as pity, and so this is the only way Sam can get him to accept it. They dress it up at a struggle and ignore how badly Lucifer wants to let him win. He lets the hand at Lucifer’s neck drift up through his hair and then back down again, one slow stroke. Lucifer doesn’t make a break for it, and so Sam does it again and again.

“Stop,” Lucifer says. Sam can barely hear him, even though there’s not an inch between them. He keeps petting Lucifer’s hair.

“It’s a punishment,” he says. “You don’t choose when it stops. I do.” Lucifer breathes. It’s unsteady. Sam keeps petting him. He drinks in Lucifer through every sense, feels the coolness of his skin under his palm as he smooths his hand a little further down to his spine, smells the overwhelming scent of magnolias mixed with something that leaves an aftertaste like pennies on the back of Sam’s tongue, hears the way Lucifer struggles to keep himself breathing slowly.

“Stop,” Lucifer begs a second time, even softer.

“No.” Lucifer shudders. Sam wraps his hand over the back of Lucifer’s neck again and squeezes. “You want me to forgive you for being frustrating all day, right?” Lucifer doesn’t answer, but his head is bowed, his forehead pressed to Sam’s shoulder. Sam shifts to move his leg before it cramps from the odd position he put it in, and he bumps Lucifer’s, dropping his hand down to Lucifer’s thigh to help him get comfortable. As he moves Lucifer, he feels the devil go limp like a ragdoll in Sam’s arms. He’s soothingly heavy. (Angels are dense, in more ways than one.) “This is how you earn that. Be good for me, Lucifer. Hold still while I touch you.”

Lucifer makes a strangled noise, muffled against Sam’s shoulder. It sounds like no.

He needs more if Sam is really set on breaking him down. Sam massages behind Lucifer’s shoulders as he turns his head to kiss him. They’re only soft butterfly kisses that Sam lands on his temples and the top of his head. Even that makes Lucifer squirm, reeling back against the barricade of Sam’s hand. Like it’s nothing, Sam’s touch stops an archangel in his tracks. Seeing Lucifer’s face lets Sam know how well this is working. He still looks confused, but he’s relaxed, eyes glassy. Some part of him knows to trust Sam. In return for that trust, Sam leans in and places kisses all over Lucifer’s face. His nose deserves a few, and so do his cheeks, and his eyebrows, and his forehead, and finally, his lips. Lucifer doesn’t have the time to kiss back with how quickly Sam leaves a smooch there and backs off to find a new spot for his next one.

“Good,” Sam praises between kisses, “good, so good...” and though it’s simple, it’s effective. Lucifer tries to escape from the praise, but he has nowhere to go and looking away only exposes more untouched spots for Sam to kiss. Sam trails kisses over Lucifer’s chin and jaw and down his neck.

“Sam, please.” Sam has fucked Lucifer harder than anyone else he’s ever been with. He’s pulled his hair, bitten him raw, bruised him black and blue until his vessel heals. He’s spanked Lucifer over his lap, and he’s tied him up, and he’s used every other trick in the book to make him behave. None of those punishments could make Lucifer sound like he does right now.

“I think you deserve more,” Sam says, merciless. Lucifer exhales, overwhelmed and as desperate for this onslaught of affection to end as he is to never be let go. Sam starts kissing him again, but he lingers on each kiss now and he varies up his praise, sprinkling in more and more specifics, like “You’re such a beautiful angel,” and “See how lovely you are when you’re not trying to pick a fight?” He kisses just next to Lucifer’s ear and whispers to him, “Next time you want attention, I expect you to say something and not start breaking things. Understand?” Lucifer swallows. “If it happens again, I’m going to punish you even worse next time. How would you like me to massage your wings and groom out all the messy feathers?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer says, and there’s a lilt to it, like he’s wondering if all it’ll take to get out of this is to admit his guilt. Sam doesn’t plan on letting up any time soon.

“Apology accepted. You still have to earn your forgiveness. We’re almost done.” Sam begins running his hands over Lucifer’s entire body, seeking vulnerability and since he knows exactly where to look, he finds it. Angels wear vessels strangely, connect to nerves in odd places more than others. Lucifer has patches of skin at his hip and his belly and the back of his calf that are more sensitive than anywhere else on his body, excluding right between his shoulderblades, which Sam is already using to make him melt in his arms. Lucifer isn’t trying to get away anymore (if Sam could even call it that with how little effort he put into it.) He’s shaking like he can’t help it, full-bodied tremors every time Sam grazes a sensitive spot, accompanied by gasps that rush Sam’s ears.

He wraps his arms around Lucifer in a hug and pulls him in tight.

He squeezes and squeezes. Lucifer makes little noises like he can’t stand it that slowly quiet as Sam’s body heat radiates into him, his soul drawing in Lucifer's grace. Sam feels himself calm down, too. Lucifer’s grace always has that effect on him. Sam savors it, and the way Lucifer finally gives in. This is exactly what he needed. “I love you,” Sam says. “I forgive you. You’re so good for me.”

Sam holds him for a few long minutes. This, plus what they’d done beforehand, was the longest Lucifer had ever gone.

So it doesn’t surprise Sam when Lucifer finally says, “Cage. Sam, cage, now.” Sam instantly releases Lucifer, no hand on the back of his neck, no arms around him, nothing keeping him still. He looks extremely overwhelmed as he falls back out of Sam’s lap, and for a moment, Sam thinks he’s taken it too far.

“Lucifer-” Without thinking, Sam reaches out a hand to touch Lucifer’s arm. Lucifer flinches, withdrawing his arm, and Sam makes a soothing noise. He doesn’t try to touch Lucifer again. That’s not the kind of comfort he needs right now. Sam gets off the bed, giving Lucifer a minute alone to reorient himself. He searches around in his packed bags for first, a blanket Sam bought for Lucifer, one he showed interest in because of the texture, and second, one of Sam’s shirts. It’s washed, but it still smells like him from being tossed in with the rest of his clothes. Sam offers them to Lucifer, and they’re taken gratefully. Lucifer wraps the blanket around himself, but he doesn’t put on the shirt. He holds it close to his chest instead. With that, Sam gives him space.

He just put Lucifer through a lot. He needs a minute to recover.

“The hug was a nice touch,” Lucifer says when he’s a little more put together, though Sam still doesn’t put a hand on him, wary of setting him off.

“It wasn’t too much?”

“No. It was nice, until-” Sam grins at being reassured that he did the right thing for Lucifer.

“Until it wasn’t?” he asks.

“Exactly.” Sam sits down on the bed near Lucifer. He still leaves a firm boundary of personal space between them. Touch will be overwhelming to him right now, but even having Sam’s soul too close, automatically trying to tangle up with Lucifer’s grace, might be too much. “You were right. I should have asked for it.”

“You’re forgiven,” Sam reemphasizes, and Lucifer hmphs. “If we’re trying to set more realistic standards for you to meet next time, than I’ll settle for you not disrupting a hunt. You can’t do that.” Lucifer pouts, clutches Sam’s shirt closer to his chest.

“I... will try not to. Next time.” Sam gets the urge to lean over and kiss him. He doesn’t, but he lets his gaze linger on Lucifer’s mouth and stores it away to do later, when Lucifer’s more open to touch.

“Good,” Sam says, “because I will do worse to you. I don’t make empty threats.”

“How terrible. You’re going to pet my wings if I misbehave.” Lucifer’s words are flippant, but his tone is a little more unsure.

“You can handle it,” Sam reassures. “If you can’t, one word and we stop, but I know that you can. Trust me.” Lucifer smiles.

“I do.” Sam’s already got plans spinning in his head for the next time Lucifer needs Sam to be gentle with him and can’t accept it. He’ll really get Lucifer squirming. Maybe Sam will even get him to beg for it to stop as his wings flex and beat and submit. All while knowing that if Lucifer wanted it to actually end, he’d safeword. There is something so intoxicating about having the devil under him, pleading for Sam to stop showing him how much he’s loved. Sam is never going to get over it.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t plan to stop loving Lucifer anytime soon, than.

[sukirichi]

Aaaaaaaa sukiiiiiii why you do this to meeeee 😭😭

Brain mush, im very exhausted so im sorry if ill rant dhdhajdjs

The whole rin diary part - sparked lots of joy 🥺🥺🥺

This part right after

This does not spark joy 😒 like really? really? After we kept admitting we still love rin even while being with omi we go ahead and say that? Especially after reading the damn diary... Really?

This update made my heart shatter for our dearly idiot rin even more.. He keeps thinking we just... Wont love him if we know who he really when (jokes on him we do know) and it just.. It really breaks me

The fact he truly looks that low on himself to the point he believes we are with him just cause hes a prince and if he never was we wouldnt even notice him... Bruh i just.. I want to hug him.. Royal life truly shattered him mentally to the point he has no self esteem uh..

This part tho caught my attention:

He keeps trying to push us away but perhaps cause he's noticeable tired, I mean its described at o e point that he has dark circles under his eyes, what i believe its because hes been sleeping on the couch or something because he refuses to sleep in the same bed as iris (since he did kinda hinted that she had the bed all to herself). And perhaps thanks to him being exhausted he just cant stop himself fron letting little truths come out, he didnt even seem to notice it while we truly did.

Im still disappointed? Bitter? Ahahahha that the baby is staying dhshshhdhoas he's our hubby man i dont want him to be having some other bitch's baby when neither he or she wanted it 🙃 like please just do something good for the story iris and go ahead and lose it 🤣🤣 at this point only the queen will be pissed and we love that royal bitch pissed 🤣🤣

Sorry i wanted to give a better review but damn my job has been killing me ahahahah thank you so much for another update tho, these even tho they kill me 🤡 in a way always cheer me up and make me having something to look forward for.

Also yes kuroooooo destroy the bitchhhhh ahahhaha

the rin diary part!! man I remember having to like sit down for a long time just so I could use the perfect words LIKE WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ITS HARD TO BE POETIC LMFAO. not that it DID become poetic but it was the best I could pull out of my ass lmaoooo. omg okay I get that it doesn’t spark joy but hear me out!! at that point we’d already fallen for kiyoomi and yknow like… we already know that rintaro hasn’t been that good anyway, and we’re finally choosing what’s right, what’s BETTER (because dtd!yn has always been a character who will most likely end up doing what she thought was right and its really hard to change her mind lol but it’s just!! a matter of what feels right in that moment!!) and in that moment choosing kiyoomi and finally accepting that he has feelings for us felt like the right one! and the diary you know, it really is confusing cuz like – WE LITERALLY HAD JUST BEGUN OUR THING WITH KIYOOMI AND EVERYTHING IS GOING WELL then we see that our husband has always been secretly writing his feelings about us LIKE THE TIMING HONESTLY CAN’T GET ANY WORSE LOL

oh yeah… rin’s inferiority complex has just completely gotten worse because all his insecurities have gone from ten to a hundred. like he somehow always felt like he wasn’t good enough but to know that he was never a prince?! my boy needs therapy. and yes omg that part!! I know during the scene where he kicked us out our room was trying to imply that he wants to share the same bed as iris but naur!! my boy rin won’t even touch her within a ten foot pole in that moment, he just stays on the couch and can barely sleep because he sent us to belleview manor of all places. I just know he stayed up all night thinking about what we’re doing with kiyoomi and well… his imaginations are right because we’re making out with him lol. LMAOOOO I KEEP FORGETTING ABOUT THE BABY I think its bcos iris has been off-screen for such a while now that lowkey I forgot she and the queen existed (in other terms I’m just too excited to write about runaway rin and yn!! and I’m such a pea brain lol)

also no omg!! I hope you’re getting some rest and a well-deserved break though! and thank you so muchhh IM SO HAPPY YOU’RE ENJOYING DTD HEHEHEHE as always I appreciate you for showing so much love and I’m sending you more back!! <33

[deadstaticolivia]

Copy and pasting this cause I’m insane and people are REQUIRED to hear my thoughts:

Okay so because I headcanon that Dororo is actually the one that messed zoruru up so bad he got his metal face and body so I just know he has some issues about it. First the guy you were friends with ditches you and you have no friends for years and now you see and work with him everyday and he’s injured you so badly you have a half metal body. All that damage both emotionally and physically must be awful and the guy can’t even remember your existence? That’s sucks ass! The only thing that is keeping zoruru going is revenge and anger and now that Garuru has blocked him off from attacking Dororo? Even worse! He doesn’t seem to have much left.

Also some stuff I wanted to add on about me talking about his thoughts on his new body:

I feel like he has a love hate relationship with his metal body. One part is “hell yeah I have better equipment to fight my enemies” but that alone is not enough to satiate his hate and disdain for it. One reason is for the circumstances he got it and who made him this way. Since it was a fight with the one person he hates so much and has dedicated himself to kill, it was already important to him, both for his training and his own personal goals. Then to be BEAT by him? And to so badly to the point he needs a metal body to be able to function is like a date worse than death to him. He would have rather died by Dororos hands than to be pitied and let live. Dororo could have killed him, even would have been encouraged by jirara because “x1 does not need weaklings on his team”. What also adds on top of that anger is the fact that Dororo still doesn’t recognize him, Dororo took pity on a stranger. A stranger he had no emotional ties too, both in the past and in the present as members of the same team. Taking pity “just because” and not even because he recognizes him is worse. This metal body is a constant reminder that he wasn’t strong enough to complete his one and only goal. Its a blemish on him that can never be removed or completely fix. Now his body isn’t even fully his own, with this body Dororo has now taken the one thing he really owned that he cared for and was truly his own, his body. I feel like there is also a small part of him that hates it because of the way he looks. He’s not a very vain guy but having half your body being covered and replaced by metal doesn’t do so well of the self esteem.

(I like to think that Dororo sparing him is another reason that led to jirara saying he can’t be a master assassin because he still held empathy and not just his notoriety)

Last thoughts I wanna voice (specifically about Garuru and the rest of the platoon):

After Garuru basically barred him from every trying to kill Dororo again I feel he goes into a date of depression for awhile. He respects Garuru as his superior and won’t go against his orders and he knows that after coming into contact with keroro super pissed he knows he can’t go back and fight him. But now where does that leave zoruru? He’s spent most of his life just for revenge so he doesn’t exactly know what to do. He doesn’t have much on keron to go back to so the best option is to stay with the platoon. Basically locking himself away in his room for awhile since the platoon hasn’t gotten any orders from headquarters for anything that requires him to fight he sits and thinks and sulks. He’s jealous that Dororo has friends and a platoon that loves him a lot and zoruru doesn’t know if he can get that since he hasn’t spent time getting to know and/or get close to them while on his crusade for revenge. This is like a new life for him since Garuru barred him, it’s a hard long journey but the rest of the platoon is there to help him. He doesn’t care all that much for fighting for keron but now he sure will fight for his platoon. He’s still angry and grumpy but he’s definitely a lot tamer and awkward due to his lack of learning good social skills.

[blametheeditor]

Jeremy Messed Up: Chapter 5

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

The Sequel To Mike Messed Up  

First  |  Previous  |  Next

Mike was just a night guard waiting to be killed by the end of the week. Now, he is the proud, and soon to be sole owner, of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Business is booming, animatronics are teeming with life, and Foxy is back in the spotlight after so many years. Even so, the dark past of Freddy's is slowly encroaching upon them. One with more ties than they could ever imagine.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and murder, want to harm someone, cursing (lots of cursing), mentions of tracking someone down. Mentions of teasing about being in a relationship when not.

AAAAAAAnd we’re back! Again!

___________________________

Mike only grins at the glare currently being aimed toward him by the world's most unintimidating kid, definitely not taking advantage on how terrified his guest is over the animatronics by opening the door and stop any denials. There's no scream of not letting their wonderful star of the restaurant into the office, so he'll call it a win. A silent terror making it clear there will be screaming if one of animatronics does come close is much better than one that makes him louder than Bonnie, sure. But nothing yet.

The only problem is, instead of handing over the first-aid kit and leaving them alone, Freddy holds Parts And Nervous' savior high above his head. And on the one day Mike actually wants to act like a responsible adult. "Yeah, I'm not jumping to try and reach that. Tomorrow will be a different story though."

"Michael," the bear murmurs. And even though he's pissed about the whole Henry thing, which he has not forgotten, the tone shuts him up. "Mind bringing me up to speed about your prisoner?"

Mike shrugs, avoiding the glassy blue eyes giving quite the disappointed look.

What? He's allowed to befriend a random kid who hid under his desk. Based on the list he's created in establishing someone's chill enough to keep around:

A. the kid hasn't tried to kill him.

B. he hasn't run saying the man's humor and nicknames aren't appreciated.

C. hasn't told him he's insane for saying to respect robots.

If anything, the bear should be happy he's making friends. Especially considering every time he's asked, it's always the same answer of 'who needs friends anyway?', in which the four stare at him with sorrowful expressions.

Which they shouldn't because it's not sad, it's practical.

"I haven't gotten the full story yet. Just that he got chased and needs his boo-boos fixed up."

Freddy raises an eyebrow. Mike flips him off.

The animatronic sighs long and hard as the first-aid is finally handed over, finally accepting the fact he's fighting a loosing battle. "Should I be concerned with your level of trust?"

"Hey, I trusted you even after Phone Guy said you'd kill me," the man points out.

Freddy goes quiet for a bit too long, Mike wincing at the realization he brought up that specific topic, maybe a little scared he's about to get lectured over airing dirty laundry like that without warning. The kind a murderous animatronic isn't proud of and never really wanted to bring up unless it was bothering him. Which it has, and the man's been the one listening to his worries, so he really shouldn't talk about it when he's been trusted with so many details.

A paw being set on his shoulder lets him know he hasn't fucked up this time, looking up from the floor he silently hoped wouldn't be his deathbed in order to meet the clearly hurt expression.

"Sorry."

"I'll be here if you need me," is all Freddy says before walking halfway down the hall in the attempt to not make Cake Snatcher nervous.

Well wasn't he a massive asshole just now?

Mike rubs his face as he punches the door button again in the attempt to lock out the conversation entirely, suddenly not wanting to really deal with anything else today. They've got bandages for their impromptu refugee, but he can ask questions tomorrow. Or maybe not ever! Just get the poor guy home and pretend this never happened. Including Henry visiting.

"It-he r-really cares about you, huh?"

The restaurant owner glances over at the shaking hand ruffling the still mud-caked curls telling him the younger almost wishes he didn't say anything.

"He's a pain in my ass most days, though."

Parts and Nervous grins. "My mom is too."

Mike opens his mouth before closing it. Because those are one of the few things he has no idea how to respond to. "So, since you started the questioning train, what's your name? Unless you adore my brilliant nicknames."

"Oh yes. 'My boyfriend' is by far the greatest compliment I've ever received," Definitely His Boyfriend smirks. "I do prefer Jeremy, though."

"Well met, Jer. I bet you heard Fuckbear, but unless you're putting my ass in timeout, it's Mike."

"Naw, is Michael too formal?" Jeremy grins. The shorter leans forward in order to grab the first-aid kit from hands that haven't even opened it, pawing through the options himself before finding something useful.

Thank fuck because Mike wouldn't know how to start. And he shouldn't, cause that's Chica's favorite job. How rude would he be trying to take her place as head doctor.

He watches Not A Criminal wince as a bottle labeled 'anti-septic' is poured onto one of his knees before slapping a band-aid onto it. "You, uh, were having a fight with it-him?"

Mike huffs. "Honestly, I'm not pissed at Fuckbear. It's Mr. Perfect who wants to fuck up all my hard work."

"Mr. Perfect?" Jeremy snorts, grinning at the look stating what. The man was an absolute dick and therefore deserves a dicky nickname. "No wonder you looked like you'd kick the desk in two!"

"Keep laughing and I'll make time go backwards so this time I ignore your pleads for mercy."

"The guy was pretty handsome," Jeremy laughs.

Mike attempts to not show his smirk because he should be upset at the judgement currently being passed. Very unfair judgement. Just because the entire conversation was heard doesn't mean he knows all the details! "Well then who's your Mr. Perfect?"

Cookie Thief tenses up. At the worst moment too, dumping a lot more than what's needed on a long cut along his elbow. Grey eyes quickly look up, afraid, and not as comfortable as he's been letting on. "N-No one. What's, uh, what's up with the b-b-b-back room?"

"Nothing much," he shrugs easily, the kid breathing out in relief for not getting an interrogation out of passing on a question. Obviously he can relate to not enjoying thinking about the Henry in your life. He thought Mr. Fuck had been bad. "We've got a bit of a bad past around here. Nothing to worry about now, though."

Jeremy slowly looks up from finishing cleaning up the cuts he can see. There's a moment of him trying to find the right words to respond. Mike doesn't interrupt him with a big spill of why he shouldn't be worried, complete with details of what happened only a year ago to make that possible, or maybe even yelling the wonderful phrase 'Gotchya!' and explain his new best friend should maybe be a little worried.

Not when the kid opens his mouth to say-

"Oi, Mikey!"

The man in question turns with the want to either glare for the interruption, or grin because finally the rest were realizing he had disappeared. Turns out, he snickers at Not A Criminal's face going pale white when he spots Foxy waving at them from the window opposite of where Freddy guards. Realizing they're now trapped on both sides by animatronics.

"Ye didn't tell us ye had a special guest o'er!"

That's when Mike gets a wonderful idea.

"Shit, Foxy, you're right!"

Jeremy's eyes narrow as Mike move to lean against the West Hall door. A glance at the elbow sitting right beside the door's button causes the grey eyes to blowing up wide in under a second, the kid leaping to his feet in terror in the attempt to shove the taller away. "W-W-W-WAIT!"

Too late. He's already pressed it. Gently shoved Parts And Nervous out into the hallway as he immediately cowers away from their resident puppy.

Mike is quick to throw his arm over the narrow shoulders, keeping his best friend and official ex-prisoner from gaining the courage to sprint right back into the office. "This is my good friend Jer! Jer, this is Foxy."

You can say whatever you'd like to about him, but the new restaurant owner knows how to be a proper douche bag. So instead of Jeremy getting overwhelmed by Chica's mother Henning he faints, intimidated to hell and back by Freddy's need to seem superior, or scared shitless by Bonnie's enthusiasm, they're left with Foxy being the most aware of how terrifying he can seem to others.

That means the fox carefully closes his mouth shut so his voice box can function without making it seem like teeth sharp enough to cut your hand off will be coming any closer. Makes sure to hunch down so the over 7 feet in height is just 7 feet. Not perfect, but slightly less scary to comprehend. Able to see he's making an effort to come off as welcoming instead of the murderous robot he is.

And guess who's fascinated with the attention to those details he's no longer trying to leap out of Mike's arms?

"Well hello there, lad. How are ye?"

Mike can hear the gears working at seeing Foxy treating him like any other kid who walks into the pizzeria. Jeremy clearly confused but not scared. "I-I-I-I'm ok-k-kay."

"Well, it looks like Mikey 'ere hasn't been the best host." The paw finally fixed to adorn soft Faux fur yet has been ordered to be locked away until there's nothing but metal is held out for an invitation. "Want ta get yer stomach filled and join in on a few sea chanties?"

Jeremy looks up at Mike for support, a bit of a surprise considering he just forced him to interact with the animatronics he's been absolutely terrified of. Screamed his head off with pleads he doesn't summon them.

The weirdest part is that he was already nodding before he could fully process the thought of how much trust he's earned.

Foxy's offer is taken before he can say something corny as shit. "Don't ye worry. M-M-Mikey's coming."

"Fucker, if that nickname sticks!"

The animatronic cackles, mouth opening for a proper expression to rub it in his face. Jeremy doesn't move to yank his hand back either despite such dangerous teeth on display. No, he's willing to let it slide to aim a shaking smirk to say Mike's finally getting payback for the boyfriend thing.

Or constantly making fun of how nervous he is. Or thinking of him in terms of criminal, not criminal. "Don' ye worry. We'll be finding the best thing ta call 'im."

Shit, he's dismantling Bonnie for the day.

Prologue  |  Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  |  Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  

[corruptedsilence]

@hannah-the-small​​ asked: 🌸  Gritt and Clem

Send 🌸 for three things my muse likes about yours.

“ Clem? I could go on and on about her.

She’s determined, to a point that I. . . admire that. The things she’s done in her life and the fact she’s still up and fighting through it all for something better. . . I couldn’t imagine being strong enough to deal with all of that. I’m already struggling as it is but she has a strength that is unmatched. Her genuine happiness. The way she shows she cares, the small moments that we get to have talking some times. I like that. . I can have a friend. Not some lover, or friend with benefits, but a genuine. . real friend. I’ve--- never truly had a friend that hasn’t gone farther than that, everyone always wants to sleep with me or something but-- she just wants to listen. To know me for me. . . Last has to be her badass abilities. I mean- have you heard about the things she’s been able to do? A kickass woman who deserves more than she was given in her life but keeps fighting, no matter the odds.

“ As for Gritt? Truthfully. . . I don’t know that much about him. I only knew about him a bit before he had gotten into that contract with Vox when he was at the hotel and before then. He was abusive, an asshole, and I wanted to rip his guts out. I still do sometimes.

But--- right, something I like, something nice right? That’s what this is about?

I guess, his music isn’t that bad? I haven’t heard much of it since I’m more of a fan of that classical swing and electric swing. Also I tend to listen more to Earth music than hell’s. . . whatever they have going on. But he has to be at least somewhat respectable to be as popular as he is. With a supposed worth of billions it pisses me off when he puts himself down. Like, bitch, people would kill themselves to get a spot he has, imposter syndrome my ass. Secondly, similar to Clem his determination. I understand what it’s like.... to sell yourself or a part of yourself for power. Though his is more his body I--- can’t fault him for it. If anything I like that he will do what he has to in order to get what he wants. It might cost a lot, it might cost everything, but dreams should be worth it all . . right? And lastly, uh. I guess his fashion sense isn’t too bad? But he really needs to work on his makeup more. That shade? With that kind of foundation? He needs a girls night one of these days. “

“ They’re not going to hear this---- right? “

[electricbluebutterflies]

“we’ve been dating forever, and you just caught the bouquet at our friend’s wedding”

Jessica/Leto, modern AU (timeline roughly equivalent to late-era / slightly beyond that), PG-ish SOMEHOW (I'd expected this ficlet was going to involve wall sex but it does NOT, just some kisses and swear words), and also on ao3.

Jessica would really like to know what forgotten deity she pissed off this week. Really.

She likes weddings, in theory. She likes them better when she’s never met the happy couple, when she’s not even all that sure how her partner knows one of them – tonight she’s pretty sure she heard the words “former intern” and that’s plausible enough, but also there are way too many people dressed consistently formal here and she’s not sure it actually matters. She likes weddings, in theory, until that one annoying tradition becomes the most awkward moment she’ll have for a long while.

She could politely stay on the sidelines for the bouquet toss. She could allow the fact that most people in her various circles assume that a mixed-gender couple who’ve been together long enough that there is a significant age gap between their two children are… a little more legally tethered than they actually are. She could take note of the fact that most of these beautiful young things taking places on the dance floor are an easy decade younger than she is and even in a good dress she’ll stand out in pictures of this moment.

She could be a good person. But she catches her partner’s eye, and… no, that’s not happening tonight. Time to twist the knife a little for both of them.

This is enough of a recurrent situation for Jessica to have routines. Make sure she’s on the side and towards the back unless there’s reason to suspect the bride played a sport recently and well enough to still have a decent throwing arm, eye the room enough to guess which pretty twentysomething is getting proposed to within the month anyways, nudge that girl in the right direction if at all necessary, and duck if the damn flowers get anywhere near her. The act of being present right now – not the oldest unmarried woman this time, at least, there are a few others closer to her age bracket who look unsteady in heels – will be enough to…

Jessica isn’t sure what she actually wants out of this moment, but she knows what she’ll get. She can feel her partner watching how clear it is that she doesn’t know anyone else in this clusterfuck, her partner who’s spent twenty years coming up with plausible and understandable reasons he won’t put a ring on her and she wants him to hurt like she does for one goddamn moment, she wants guilt like she’s not sure even she can cause, she wants-

Whatever long-dead drunk asshole came up with the bouquet toss tradition, she’s pretty sure she hates them right now. The damn thing is airborne, and suddenly routines mean nothing, suddenly her hands are full of a horrific color scheme of dead plants, suddenly-

Jessica turns her head and makes very pointed eye contact with her partner for just long enough, then turns the rest of her body and hands the bouquet to the girl next to her, younger and still bright-eyed and hopeful and-

Fuck this. She hates weddings. She really does.

She slips away before this can get bad, before she can have too many emotions around too many people she doesn’t know. She’s respectable enough to keep her breakdowns private to the extent she ever even has them, and intense hurt should be saved for a hotel-room shower but she’s not really sure she’ll make it that long. Just a few moments alone against a wall out in the hallway and she’ll be fine, just a few moments alone and-

Oh, of course not alone. Not long enough for it to help, at least.

She hasn’t gotten as far as a plan – there is never a plan, there is never a goddamn plan – but such obvious bitterness demands resolution and at least her partner isn’t completely oblivious to her moods. She does occasionally try to provoke, after all, with the fluency of longterm domesticity, knowing exactly how to get under his skin just enough, knowing-

“I don’t know why you do things like that.”

Not completely oblivious, she reminds herself, but always too close for lasting comfort. There are days she questions her life choices, days she wonders why she gave the best years of her life to this man, she wonders-

“It got you out here,” she counters, shifting her position against the wall. She knows she’s a vision in a good dress, dark orange because her partner said it was a good color on her a month after they met and she’s kept that close ever since, she’s adapted herself so perfectly and it’s still somehow just almost enough, still-

“You don’t need to-“

“I did not do anything inappropriate,” she says before he can even start, and she didn’t, that’s the brutal part, she plays all her roles perfectly and still-

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

She rolls her eyes. “I can feel you thinking it.”

“Jess-“

“Tell me you aren’t. Tell me there isn’t a whole goddamn speech turning on a rotisserie in your mind about how I always want attention at the wrong times and-“

“Did I miss something?”

Never a good sign, she thinks, never ever a good sign when he actually remembers how much she runs circles around him. They’re on different levels, always have been, and maybe that’s the only reason they functions as well as they do but sometimes it just adds to the pain and-

“You did see what just happened,” she hisses.

“But not why. Not whatever you’re trying to-“

There were reasons, forever ago, back when they didn’t quite follow the standard relationship trajectory. The scandal of her background, the fact that in this modern world that still matters… it didn’t look right, it still doesn’t, and somehow they ended up with the bitter compromise where the only things she does not have are a piece of paper and a small delicate object on her hand at all times and-

“Doesn’t it hurt you too?”

He gives her an alarmingly blank look, and she hates this, she hates-

“You do pick some strange moments to be passive-aggressive.”

She can hear the tension in his voice, the patience too much of her life hinges on and the emotions always held back because that’s never been who they are. Too many absolutes and not enough… she doesn’t know what it would look like to do better in that area, but they’re not-

“Does half my life really mean that little?”

“I still don’t-“

She’s half tempted to end this conversation with a deep kiss, half tempted to take full advantage of the fact that with her in these godawful heels they’re the same height and she could very, very easily pin her partner to a wall and take out her frustrations in a way that does not involve talking. This is how these kinds of nights usually end, with desire overriding better judgement, with how tactile they both get and-

“You and I,” she says like it’s the only real thing in the world and right now it is. “What we are and what we are not.”

A spark of oh-fuck-me in his eyes, finally a more even field, finally-

“I didn’t realize-“

Of course he didn’t, she’d say if she actually wanted a fight. She internalizes everything so well, knows what would be too much for this man she loves despite the consistent insensitivities, knows-

“I have forgiven you so many thousands of times and I’m so tired and-“

“Forgiven me for what, exactly?”

“I have given you children, I have given you the peak years of my life, I have stood by your side for countless miserable social events, I have talked through your plans in the quiet of night and somehow nothing I do is enough and-“

“Whatever you’re avoiding actually saying-“

“We have done everything else. Would a courthouse wedding really be the end of the world?”

She loves when he finally figures out what she’s up to, another well-practiced routine, a moment of warmth she can’t ignore as the distance between them closes. It is easier for both of them to feel normal emotions if guided by some kind of touch, and she wants to be held, she wants-

“I didn’t realize you were that wounded by that issue,” he says again, this time with just enough situational awareness that she can believe his innocence.

“There was no point being difficult. I know you’ve had your reasons, but-“

“I thought we’d gotten past how much you hide.”

There had been worse problems, she reminds herself, years ago when she’d been young and overwhelmed and latched herself onto the first decent man in sight despite being in no condition to be a good partner in return. In hindsight she supposes she’d taken advantage of him a little, but not with bad intentions, and it turned out okay, they’ve turned out okay, they’ve-

“Never that simple,” she murmurs. “I know I should do better but-“

“And I can’t do better by you if you won’t even say what I did wrong.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to be difficult. I can forgive anything I don’t think is done just to hurt me and-“

Her voice breaks and she leans into touch, buries as much of her face as she can against her partner’s shoulder and bites her lip hard enough to bleed because the alternative is crying in a semi-public space and she won’t do that, she won’t-

“Or you could actually say things and you wouldn’t have to.”

It’s not and never that simple, she’d like to point out if she wanted to continue the fight, but-

“I want everything. I want to be your wife. Is that clear enough for you?”

She is thankful for their current position, for not being able to see physical signs of regret. Her partner shifts their position and holds her just a little closer – if this were happening under other circumstances this would be the part where he’d undo her hair, but the night isn’t over and there is still a public image to maintain and-

“Yes. I… I didn’t see…”

“I can only fault you for so much,” she breathes before whatever guilt she may have caused goes too far. “I am happy with you. I have been happy with you. At this point anything more would be a formality, but I still want.”

“And you’ve been waiting what, ten years for this breaking point?”

“Seventeen,” she counters. “See two little pink lines and the world changes forever and-“

She had still had faith in him then, she remembers, in those days when she wasn’t sure how much she should trust. In a more normal situation that would’ve been the point when her partner would’ve proposed; instead everything but that. A depth of loyalty and protectiveness she never thought anyone would show in her favor, but not-

“I wanted to,” he murmurs. “Too many possible complications, but I still…”

“I don’t need your apologies. I just need you to fix this.”

He makes a low amused sound. “What, you’re not going to expect some dramatic proposal out of this?”

“I know your limits, love. And we’re well past the stage where that even makes sense.”

“Is this really what you want? This casual?”

“When I let myself dream, I liked the idea of you slipping a ring on my finger while we’re curled up in bed, no need for any words just-“

“That may still happen. I don’t…”

“I want to be your wife,” she repeats. “It doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.”

He separates their bodies just enough for eye contact, just enough to make this moment mean something. “I want that too. I have wanted for… so long, and talked myself out of it so many times, and-“

“Four little words. Give me that one bit of tradition and I’ll-“

“Will you marry me?”

She answers with a kiss, unsure what words would be safe right now, unsure of the state of her body. If she’s honest with herself, she has been waiting for that question since the moment they met, and at the same time she never thought she’d actually hear it, at the same time-

“Is it really that simple for you?” he asks when they breathe.

“For me, yes. For us… part of me wants to run off somewhere and get it over with, part of me knows it’s either a huge wedding or nuclear scandal and-“

“You’d enjoy that amount of planning.”

“I want this over with,” she murmurs. “I want…”

She takes more kisses because she’s not sure what else to say now, because she hasn’t yet processed what she’s finally gone and done and at the same time she has and she’s overwhelmed and unsteady and-

“You could’ve said something sooner and I would’ve-“

“We can’t undo the past, love. And I don’t fault you for… I wouldn’t have waited this long if I wasn’t otherwise-“

“Can it be enough to say we were both wrong?”

A bit of an understatement, but…

“If it is for you,” she replies. She’s caused enough chaos for one night.

[noxcheshire]

Danny is gonna be the best fucking Uncle/Pseudo Dad ever 😭

And little Jason getting to be just a kid after everything that had occurred. Also, I’m not too sure on this since I don’t know anything really about DC lore aside from third party grazing (ao3, tumblr, etc) but Catherine Todd was still alive and was the one to have led Jason to the Joker? Because the Joker threatened that he had CT there with him?

I’m trying to think HOW and WHY Ellie would do so. Simply because she doesn’t have anything really to fear from the Joker. But if this Ellie turned Catherine had become so used to being human, even going through the heaps of abuse that Willis Todd put onto her, would she even really be able to fight back?

And that’s not even taking into consideration the drugs that she had been taking during this time as well. Maybe the drugs (I don’t know what CT was taking) mess with her mind little by little that she begins to disconnect with her ghost side? Like it’s still THERE but she’s unable to access it as easily as before because at this point she’s pretty much starved and abused her ghost side herself.

I’m thinking that if she ever tries she just begins to fall apart, her form becoming less Ellie and something that’s dying even in Ghost terms. Something just not natural. Maybe this as well is the reason she doesn’t fight the Joker, because right now she is as human as she can get, and she really will just stop existing both alive and dead.

On the other side of this all though, back to Jason, is the fact his mom is a GHOST. A spiritual entity that fell in love and had a baby: Jason Todd.

That would make Jason a half ghost, not like Danny, but almost similar enough that he could come back to life given the right circumstances. And with the right aftercare could even access parts of Infinite Realm ghost powers. Again, nothing like Danny or even Ellie, because he’s still more human than ghost. He would have to fully die to be able to get all that ghost power.

With Danny taking care of Jason, bringing him back home to Amity Park that is just FILLED with ecto, it should trigger those dormant ghost genes in Jason without all that traumatic dying bits. So with enough ecto-contaminated air, food, and visits to the Yeti doctors, one day Jason just looks at his Uncle/Dad and goes: I want to do that.

And then bam.

He did.

Danny is so flabbergasted that he just gaps, watching his little nephew/son doing zoomies with his newly minted ghost powers.

I very much believe that Jason would 100% see Danny as his dad and call him as such. While Danny is both touched, because Willis Todd can suck it, but also because he wished had gotten to be part of Jason’s life in better circumstances with Ellie still in their lives.

But Ellie disappeared. Ellie was gone now, and Danny didn’t know where she was or if she were even still alive.

He holds hope though, because the familial link he holds with Ellie, though frayed and tortured, still clings to his own.

Now, as for Willis Todd and the absolute audacity of his existence, Danny will have retribution. Once Jason is secured and safe, and stops crying every time Danny is out of eye sight because even if Jason hasn’t accessed his ghost powers the familial links tying them together as Father-Son are so strong that it’s painful if the needs are not met. ie, Jason feeling secured that Danny will not abandon him.

Death taking a step back because they do NOT want to get in between what pissed off an eldritch being AND the eldritch being towering over Gotham City.

I just realized Lady Gotham is a thing.

Lady Gotham just stands back with Death, watching as those who should have died continue living because Death refused to enter the city. And then looks towards Danny in all his eldritch glory, his many eyes scouring the city for his prey; limbs upon limbs convulsing through alley’s and narrow corners that it begins to darken the sky in a way not even Lady Gotham could do. Danny overwhelming the city so completely that it seems to just get scooped from its space in New Jersey.

It happens all at once, and then Danny pulls back just as sharply once Willis Todd is found.

At first Danny had been overjoyed to hear that Ellie had finally settled down. But then he realized the man she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with was absolute scum. He was a raging alcoholic without a stable job and even worse, the asshole had managed to get Ellie hooked on drugs.

Danny had tried to get her to leave him. But she kept on insisting that he wasn't that bad, that he had his good moments. Every time she talked about that man it sickened Danny but he never pushed her too much for fear of Ellie cutting off all contact with him.

Now, as he busted down the door to her apartment, Danny regretted not dragging Ellie back to the Infinite Realms when he had the chance. She had stopped communicating with him a few days ago and panic had overtook him. If he found out that bastard had done something to her, he'd unleash endless suffering the likes of which would make even Pariah Dark cower in fear.

As Danny made his way into the apartment, he found himself experiencing the one thing he dreaded the most. Ellie lay on the floor motionless, a needle beside her. He was too late. No. No no no. Why hadn't he tried harder to convince her? Why hadn't he forced her to move out ages ago. Danny cradled Ellie's body as a silent sob escaped him. Why hadn't he.... His thoughts were interrupted by shuffling coming from the corner.

Danny looked up to see a small boy, sitting in the corner, his legs pulled up to his chest as he watched him. The boy's eyes were hollow and lifeless. And he was so tiny and boney, a gust of wind could have blown him away. What was a child doing here? Was this... was this Ellie's kid? She had never mentioned having a son. Then again, as time had dragged on, she mentioned less and less about her life. It's quite possible she had a son and never elected to mention it to Danny (the very thought that she would keep something like that away from him was too painful to bear).

Danny stared at the boy who looked at him with abject terror. He didn't even need to ask why the kid looked like he was bracing himself. He knew exactly who had instilled such trauma into him. Resolve settled into his heart as he realized it didn't matter whether this was Ellie's kid or not. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He was taking the boy with him.

----

Or Ellie is Catherine Todd and Danny takes Jason in.

[cynicalone94]

Outside Income Ch. 5

When Intelligence gets pulled in to solve a case that another unit can't seem to close, evidence quickly begins to suggest that the gang they're investigating has man on the inside. But what shouldn't be a big deal, Intelligence is known for rooting out corruption, quickly becomes a very big deal when something goes very, very wrong.

Read on AO3 here.

After leaving a third burn on his torso, this one on the opposite side of his stomach from the second, the men leave him alone with a slam of the door. 

He slumps back on his heels, looking down to try to inspect the wounds left behind. 

He can’t quite identify the shape of the brands from this angle but the skin is a bright red color with intense blistering and charred flesh intermingling around the borders. 

Both of the wounds on his stomach also have torn skin around the edges from the brand being pulled away after the metal had cooled. Blood is oozing sluggishly from patchy edges. 

He lets his head fall back briefly but there’s nothing to rest it against so he straightens up again. 

He’s exhausted. 

They’d been out late the night before with the rip. Voight had given them a later call this morning because of it but Jay hasn’t been able to sleep in past seven in years. 

He’d gone for a run and then headed into the office, running over paperwork until Voight had sent him to check out the house with Marston. 

He hopes Voight wasn’t too hard on the other detective. They’d talked over how he’d gotten the location on the drive there and there’s no way that the man could have known it was a trap. 

Clearly Marston had been fed the location by their mole, maybe the setup can help them figure out who they are. 

He idly wonders if Marston could be the mole. It would explain why he hadn’t made any solid arrests in two years of investigating. 

But surely he wouldn’t have led another cop into an ambush like that, right?

Handed Jay over and allowed himself to be used to prevent him from fighting back. 

Accepting that a cop is working with a drug dealing gang is hard enough but at least if it’s someone else he can hope that they didn’t know what they were giving up the address for. 

Hope that they thought the address was being used to plant false evidence to distract them.

He’d like to believe that selling out their convictions wouldn’t extend to selling out another cop. 

But he can’t ignore the fact that whatever they thought they were doing, selling out another cop is exactly what they did. And despite the fact that he’s already been here for hours, it doesn’t look like they’ve seen fit to make that right. 

He shifts painfully backward until his feet touch the the wall and then leans back, resting his head against the wall. 

It isn’t comfortable but it is a little easier and he slowly starts to relax, eyes drifting closed. 

The door slams open again and he looks up to see the dark eyed man from earlier. 

“This room isn’t secure enough.” the man says. “So we’re going to be moving you a little further into the building.”

The only response that Jay’s capable of is a fierce glare. 

The cuff is removed from his right ankle but the chains are just unwrapped from each other and then the cuff is locked back into place. 

He’s drug to his feet and then shoved toward the door, forced to walk in short, halting steps by the cuffs. 

It’s a long walk down the dark, narrow hallway. 

If he could just break free, Jay would gladly run for hours if it would get him to safety. As it is, he looks at every door that he passes and wonders if each one is the “more secure” placed where he is to be stashed. 

He just wants to sit down. 

His head is slammed against the wall and he stumbles. 

“Stay awake.” the man growls. “And keep walking asshole.”

He growls into the gag and closes his eyes but keeps walking. He can’t speed up much, limited by the length of the chain between his ankles and the man seems pissed off by how slow he’s moving. 

Its your fault asshole. 

But he can’t say it so he just glares at the ground and keeps moving. 

Finally a door opens and he’s pushed into a new room.

He grunts as he is shoved to his knees against the wall. 

This room is even dingier than the last. A thick layer of filth covers the walls and a bitter, chemical scent fills the air. 

 The building is clearly abandoned, the bulk of the lights no longer working which makes him suspect that the gang’s only use for the large warehouse is as a place to stash him. 

He’s shoved a few inches over and then the cuffs around his ankles are unlocked and the chain looped around a column behind him. 

A gun is pressed against his forehead, keeping him still as the cuff on his left wrist is unlocked and the chain looped around the column as well, before being twisted around the chain from the cuffs on his ankles. The cuff is then relocked around his wrist and he is left alone. 

He manages to shift forward far enough to sit back on his heels, letting his head fall back against the column. One of the two remaining light bulbs in the room flickers before going out and he sighs. It’s going to be a long night. 

[obsessiveshayme]

I agree with everything, and there’s a lot of debate on Reddit but I’ve seen others voice the same concerns about sully, dumo and Jeff. I’ve been wanting sully out for the past two seasons now….he’s too stubborn to an absolute fault, I remember I think it was during this seasons 7 game L stretch that he was making 0 line changes, which he still doesn’t, unless it’s like 1 guy…and then all he does is put them on a different line but all the same players overall….that’s just not enough imo, like pull some players up from WBS, we need change. Shake it up idk this team is just so stagnant. Honestly I think the wins we’ve had since those 7 games have been pure dumb luck for the most part. We’ve only been scoring on power plays our 5v5 is laughable. And it’s always pissed me off that sully never pulls the goalies when they’ve had absolute shit games. Dumos been hot trash for a minute imo, I don’t understand why we’ve kept him so long. To me he hasn’t been anything worthwhile since our last cup win. Jeff, idk like yeah he’s playing bad rn but he was doing great earlier in the season and last season so I hope it’s just a funk. He still has a great face off percentage. If anything has to change though I really want it to be our head coach. Sullys playbook just isn’t working for this team anymore. Yeah he WAS a great coach, emphasis on was. The only defense I’ve seen is “he’s won us back to back cups🥴” as if he’s the only one to ever do that? He’s not. Idk. Like I said this team is stagnant. idk if I jinxed it or predicted it but as soon as the first period ended I was like watch us blow it. Don’t even get me started on overtime. The only thing good right now is our penalty kill if you ask me. And I am so not looking forward to this winter classic game. Bruins have been REALLY good, and we’re going into that game after this dog shit back to back? Hopefully we can win against the devils save some face, cause we’re gonna get creamed by the bruins and it’s only gonna add salt to the wound.

I said the same thing to my friend. We never really started playing better after that seven game losing streak. We pretty much got lucky. We are not playing well right now. We cannot keep a lead. We cannot win in overtime. We are dog shit 5v5. These are not opinions these are plain facts that you can back up with numbers and video. Yet instead of trying to fix this Sully keeps doing the same things over and over and over. What is the definition of insanity?

What was great about Sullivan in the early days was that he was not afraid to change it up. He was constantly switching the lines and putting different people out for different things back in 2016-2017 when we won the Cups but that was a long time ago and he's not the same coach. This is another thing I think people are not willing to admit. He has changed just as much as the players have changed and he has gotten stagnant. I told my friend that we win in spite of him and not because of him sometimes and that doesn't make a good coach.

I want dumo to find his game. However as you said he has been off for some time and I think we just turned a blind eye because we were winning. Now we are not winning so we are forced to look at the problematic parts of our team and unfortunately he is one of them. I don't know what he needs to do to find his game but I do know he does not need to be on that second pair. Why is he getting so many minutes when he's not playing well? Another baffling coaching decision.

I think Jeff will get it back and we don't really have to worry about him but pointing out that he's not playing well right now is not a bad thing. It just is what it is. Him getting that goal last night gave me hope.

But I agree with you because when you boil it down a lot of what is going wrong with us right now comes down to bad coaching. Fire the coach and win a Cup?

[kaunis-sielu]

A Payment: 10

Being with Steve is easy. He doesn’t treat you like you’re a bother or like you’re not able to make your own choices or do your own thing, to a point he’s still overly concerned about your safety but after Boston you get it. He’s been true to his word and has let you be in charge of how quickly your relationship is moving, which admittedly isn’t quickly. You’ve had a few nice make outs and you’re not going to lie to yourself, you’re falling for him.

It’s been three months, the amount of time that Steve had told your father was going to be a trial period. You have a feeling that if he hasn’t heard from your father or Ward already then he will soon.

“I’m going shopping for the dinner with Tony and Pepper. Is there anything else I should pick up?” You ask Steve strolling into his home office. You like when he works from home, sometimes you work from his office with him just to watch how he deals with his company.

“I think you need some diamonds. Maybe a pair of studs, at least one and a half carats.” He’d already gotten you a wedding band of small black diamonds that you’re more than a little obsessed with.

“What? No I don’t.” You tell him with a laugh as he stands up from behind his desk.

“I really,” he gently pulls you toward him with his hands on your hips, “really think you need them.” He kisses your jaw, “Think how pretty you’d be, wearing just those in our bed.” He murmurs into your ear before he kisses you soundly.

“Shit, okay fine.” He does that low laugh thing that you find so sexy then pulls his wallet from his back pocket.

“Here, I’m sorry we haven’t had time to get you one of my cards.”

“It’s okay, I still have my own money.”

“Not for the earrings. At least a carat and a half Honey.” He reminds you before you kiss his cheek and head out of his office.

You and Lance go to the jewelry store first, you don’t want a bunch of groceries in the car for too long. You settle on a pair of round cut studs, that are just over one and a half carats. You give them to Lance to carry so that you can put them in later, then you head to the grocery store. You usually buy just enough for the coming week but since Pepper and Tony are coming over tonight for dinner you need to get more and something a bit nicer. You know what’s expected of you as hostess, it was a job that you did until you ran away. You’re picking out some cheese when someone scoffs.

“Wow, Rogers lets you off your leash?” You look up in surprise and see Aida standing next to her own cart of food.

“Still a bitch I see. It’s nice to know that somethings don’t change.” You say and she scowls at you, you’re glad that you can still piss her off so easily.

“How is married life? Surprised that you haven’t gotten knocked up yet.” When you don’t say anything she lets out a surprised bark of laughter, “You haven’t fucked him yet have you?”

“That, is none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is. In that little contract that you signed it states that if you don’t consummate the marriage within the first sixty days the contract is void and you’re to come back to Ward’s.” You’re going to throw up, this can’t be true.

“You and I both know that I didn’t sign that.”

“But does your husband?” She asks sweetly and god you hate her so much.

“I don’t have secrets from my husband. Know that he’ll be hearing about this and I can guarantee that he won’t like the fact that my father’s little bitch bothered me while I was out shopping.” You sneer at her and she looks furious, “Shoo now honey. I have things to do.” You dismiss her grabbing the package of mozzarella that you want then you continue on to the noodles. You’ve decided on chicken parmesan for dinner, it’s something that looks really impressive but isn’t extremely difficult to make. The breaded chicken is the hardest part and you’ve done it enough to know how to make an excellent breading.

You get the rest of the ingredients quickly, you’re not interested in running into Aida again and Lance grins over at you as you walk out of the store.

“That, was amazing.”

“If you see her again, keep her away from me. I hate that woman.”

“Sorry Queenie.”

“No, you didn’t know that was what I’d want.”

“You handled her beautifully. Do you know if Steve signed the marriage license?”

“I don’t, which is making me anxious. He’s been calling me his wife this whole time and he said he didn’t just to piss off my father. Do you think what she said is true?”

“I don’t know. She’s always liked to piss you off.”

“I think it’s because I look so much like my mom that she hates me. My father won’t marry her and officially make her his woman.” You tell him as you quickly load the food into the car. You didn’t get enough for the week but Aida rattled you enough that you just want to get home. “I’m going to ask Steve when we get back.”

“You think he’ll tell you the truth?”

“I don’t think he’s lied to me before.” You tell him as you climb into the car.

When you get back to the house you carry as many of the bags in as you can and Lance takes the rest then you hurry up to Steve’s office. The door is closed but that’s never stopped you before, you open the door slowly and when your eyes meet Steve’s they go from furious to soft, so soft. You raise your brows at him and he nods,

“I don’t give a shit. Figure it out.” He snaps as you close the door and make your way to him. He moves his seat back and gestures for you to join him in his lap. You relax into him as he talks you listen to him command the troops, “Sam, I don’t want his excuses. We had a deal. Get me results.” He hangs up then and tosses his phone onto his desk.

“Hi Sweetheart, sorry about that.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yea, where are your earrings?”

“Oh, Lance has them. I ran into Aida at the store. Did you sign the marriage license yet?”

“No, why?”

“Apparently we only have sixty days to, consummate the marriage after you sign. According to her, otherwise I go back to my father.”

“That’s not going to happen.” You need to tell him the truth about how you didn’t sign.

“I didn’t sign.” You blurt.

“What?”

“Aida forged my signature, but if I told you that my father would’ve killed Lance or Bobbi.”

“Honey, that’s not good. We need to have you sign it for real, now. I’ll sign too.”

“Then we have to-”

“We can lie.” He interrupts, “If you’re not ready we can lie.” You’re full of gratitude for him and you hug him tightly, you know in that instant that you want him.

“Thank you, but I’m ready.”

“What?”

“I’m ready, I trust you.”

“Fuck.” He breathes before covering your mouth with his, Steve cups the back of your head with one of his hands as he kisses you. He pulls away from you suddenly, “You can’t say shit like that to me in the middle of the day when I have work to do.” He groans into your mouth.

“Just something to get you through the day.” You tease and he rests his forehead against yours.

“Damn it, and we have Tony and Pepper tonight.”

“I’ll be ready tomorrow too.” You promise him and he chuckles softly.

“You’re right but that doesn’t mean I want to wait.” You kiss his cheek then slip out of his grasp.

“I’m going to get cooking, what time are Tony and Pepper going to be here?”

“Seven.”

“Okay, I’ve got to get going so that I have time to cook and get ready.”

“You know Wanda can cook right?” He asks leaning back and watching you make your way to the door.

“I know but this is my first hostess event as your wife and I want to do it right.”

“I’m going to draw up a new copy of the contract that was forged, and we can both sign tonight so that if your father does attempt to take what’s mine I have more reason to beat his ass.”

“What’s yours?” You ask with a raised eyebrow

“Mhmm. Just like what’s yours is over here.” He says gesturing to his body and you laugh before leaving his office.

You start on the chicken Parmesan and when it’s pretty much ready, minus the actual cooking part, then you go get ready. You’re going to wear a black dress with black heels and soft make up, all lighter colors to just highlight your natural looks, you add the earrings because you know Steve will appreciate it. When you’re done you go back downstairs and put in the chicken.

“Woman, are you trying to kill me?” Steve groans as he walks into the kitchen, when you turn and look at him you’re fairly certain that you stop breathing.

“Right back at you Rogers.” He smirks at you before prowling closer.

“After Tony and Pepper leave,” He says lowly, “You’re mine.”

Tag list:

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[paleontaxi]

Jarod is the kind of person who would pull a weapon on a gas station employee if they piss him off enough.  In fact, he almost did during his first encounter with her pathetic coworker, that pale and miserable sac of bones without a brain between his ears.  That man was pissing Jarod off by insinuating that he was anything like the creeps who come around asking after Rosa and running his bill up an extra $45 due to incompetence.  That other employee almost ended up with the barrel of Jarod’s pistol between his eyes, and the only thing that saved him was Rosa’s appearance from the back room.  Things would have gone much differently if she had not been working that day.

Therefore, it is ironic that Rosa can interact with him without fearing him in the same way when he can all but guarantee that he has a much worse hair-trigger temper than Beaux.  Usually, people regard Jarod with nervous platitudes to keep him at bay, and Rosa is the first person in over a decade who hasn’t been put off by him.

She is safe around him, though, as ridiculous as it is.  She is one of the few people on Earth who has never done anything to draw his ire, and he has not once considered putting a bullet in her.  And that, combined with the fact that he is more willing to get dangerous with everyone else, makes him the perfect, if unexpected, candidate to protect her.

The boyfriend lie was not supposed to go this far, and he did not expect to have to act it out.  He is an okay actor—after all, what is customer service if not acting, pretending you’re overjoyed to be hauling some drunken bastard back to his apartment when you’re thinking about breaking his neck?  But the real Jarod still peeks through more often than he should, putting off customers and costing him tips.

He let Rosa take a picture of him on her cellphone, and while he’s not very photogenic, he did not need to be because ‘nice’ and ‘handsome’ was not the vibe they were going for, anyway.  The photo was meant to convey that Rosa had someone who would dissolve the bodies of everyone else who flirted with her in a vat of acid and express no remorse.  He expected her to flash that photo a couple of times, say, ‘That’s him,’ in an adoring voice, and for that to be the end.

But here he is now, the boyfriend in the flesh, kissing her, holding her, making plans to take her out.  And surprisingly, despite the sudden expectations and new responsibilities thrust upon him, he does not find slipping into the role in earnest as tricky as he thought he would.

When Rosa pulls away, Jarod wonders if she regrets it, if the apologetic look on her face is more for him or herself.  He is aware of what his chain smoking does to his breath, how it makes him taste, and he thinks it must be something disgusting that she only endured to get this other guy off her back.

But then, she is smiling and giggling between her words and drawing him in closer to her, pushing all those thoughts out of his mind.  If she regrets it, she certainly gives no hints about it.  “Of course, I remember,” he says, then glances down at his wristwatch.  “You couldn’t wait three and a half hours, huh?”  He smiles softly and leans in to kiss her cheek, his bristles skimming against her skin.  “Well, I can’t exactly pretend I’m just here to fill up, so I’m just as bad.”

The two of them have gotten the exact kind of attention they wanted, it seems, as the man by the counter bursts out in offense over the idea that Rosa is taken for real and isn’t lying about the ‘creepy old bastard’ on her phone.  The rabbit mask is fucking stupid, Jarod thinks, and he doesn’t know how the guy intends to intimidate anyone with that.  If he planned on robbing the joint, he should have just stuck with a ski mask like everyone else.  Less original, but that’s the point—be as nondescript as possible so you can’t be tied back to a scene.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jarod tells this other man with a much different smile than the one he directed at Rosa a moment ago.  He loosens his grip on her slightly to better face the other man.  He is not as angry as he could be, especially not about the comment about Rosa’s low standards.  Jarod knows he isn’t a catch, and honestly, the most challenging part about the whole boyfriend lie is convincing other people that he somehow is.

Even so, he presses onward, figuring it is fine to antagonize the guy slightly.  Jarod can easily drop him if things escalate, if he needs to.  As far as he is aware, the other man doesn’t know he’s packing yet, and he intends to keep it that way so he can get the surprise draw on him when the time comes.  “It makes her standards low, does it, because she likes a more experienced man who can actually last more than a single pump?”

He realizes a second too late that he maybe shouldn’t have gone for the sexual stuff right away, in case he made Rosa uncomfortable, and he casts a glance over at her to see how she’s feeling about the whole situation.  He only did it because he knows the other man is just thinking about sex and how much better he would treat Rosa in that way, which makes it the easiest target.

“Is that why they kicked you out of the mansion, Bunny?” he sneers, turning back to the man and his stupid mask.  “Couldn’t keep up with the girls there, could you?  Couldn’t even come close.”

Beaux Couvillion has been coming into the gas station more and more these past few weeks, seemingly just to talk to Rosa. Normally, Rosa wouldn’t mind at all. She loves getting to know their regulars, so seeing repeat customers is usually a surefire way to brighten her otherwise boring days. Of course, Beaux seems all too happy to make himself an exception to the rule, in more ways than one.

It’s not even that Beaux is uniquely creepy compared to the other regulars at the gas station. Rosa has had plenty of strange men come in to flirt with her in the months she’s worked here, often in ways that make her skin crawl. Beaux, however, puts her on edge like most others don’t, from his greasy smirk to the way his eyes always seemed firmly locked on her chest. Even that aside, there’s just something off about him, like at any moment he’ll pull a knife if she says the wrong thing. All in all, Rosa wants nothing to do with Beaux, but there isn’t much she can do to get him to leave her alone. He’s a paying customer, after all, and she has to be nice to him.

Perhaps it’s only natural that, when all other defenses failed and she realized that Beaux wasn’t going to back off, she told Beaux that she is, in fact, spoken for. He didn’t believe her, of course--she’s always been a terrible liar--but she can’t back down now that she’s set the narrative. Now, every time Beaux comes in, their exchanges follow a simple script. He’ll try to flirt, she’ll remind him gently but firmly that she has a boyfriend, he’ll press for details, she’ll try to awkwardly dance around his questions, and eventually he’ll leave. By now, it’s almost routine.

Today is no different. At least, it isn’t at first, until Beaux seems to decide that he’s had enough of this game. In the middle of trying to impress-slash-intimidate her with the creepy rabbit mask he’d made, he decides to speak up.

“Y’know,” he drawls as he leans against the counter, I’m startin’ to think ya’ don’t actually have a boyfriend.” A sneer accompanies the words, and he finally looks up from her breasts as he moves his rabbit mask to see her properly. “I mean, what kind a’ man would leave a hot piece a’ tail like you all alone, where just anybody could snap you up?” Rosa bristles at the words, leaning away from him to the best of her ability.

Beaux doesn’t take the hint and instead leans closer, sliding a hand across the counter towards hers. “You need a real man in your life, babe--one who’ll actually keep you safe.”

Before Rosa can respond, the door chimes to announce someone else coming into the store. When Rosa turns her head and sees Jarod, relief quickly floods through her. Not just because he’s one of her dearest friends, but also his timing could not be better.

When Rosa first decided to lie and tell Beaux that she had a boyfriend, she panicked and claimed it was Jarod, even though Beaux hadn’t met him at that point. (In her defense, Jarod is one of her closest male friends, and out of those friends he’s probably the only one intimidating enough to get Beaux to leave her alone.) Thankfully, Jarod wasn’t upset when she told him, and once she explained he agreed to go along with it.

Right now, she can only hope he still won’t mind.

A wide smile spreads across Rosa’s face. She immediately stands and rounds the counter to go greet him. By now, she knows Beaux isn’t going to steal anything while her back is turned, so it’s fine if she leaves the register unmanned for a moment.

When Rosa is close enough, she leans up and pulls him into a kiss in lieu of a greeting. Almost immediately, alarm bells are going off in her brain as she realizes what she just did, how Jarod seems to freeze for a moment before halfheartedly kissing her back. Wait. He’s kissing her back. The realization stuns her, and her face warms dramatically as she quickly pulls away, an apology just on the tip of her tongue. In the moment, she isn’t sure what expression she’s making as she looks up at him, but he seems to piece the situation together rather quickly as he glances over her shoulder at Beaux. 

He grins at her and puts an arm around her waist, keeping her close to him. His words make her giggle, and she sincerely hopes that it isn’t obvious how flustered she is right now.

“Is it that obvious?” she says, smiling sheepishly at him. As she speaks, she puts her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “I missed you! Can’t a gal be excited to greet her boyfriend?” Is it weird to call him her boyfriend when he’s clearly much older than her? Or, wait, is she just overthinking this? They’re not actually dating, so it doesn’t matter, right?

His next words distract her before she can start spiraling, and she beams up at him. It’s clear what he’s doing as he speaks a bit louder, making sure Beaux can hear them, and she really appreciates it. “Sure am!” she tells him. “Remember, hon, I get done at six tonight.”

It’s then that Beaux finally speaks up, and Rosa doesn’t even have to turn her head to know he’s pissed. She can so clearly picture the anger on his round face, and she wills herself not to look.

“What the hell is this?” he sneers, indignant. “That’s your ‘boyfriend?’ That creepy old bastard?” He scoffs. “Goddamn, I didn’t think your standards would be that fuckin’ low.”