#you’ll feel like you’re going to die if anyone within a block of you is smoking one. get fucking real

[vampirekissingbooth]

complaining post u can scroll

[charliemwrites]

A continuation of this:

Outside time is heavily monitored but fairly regular. Simon keeps nearby and you learned early on that he’s more than capable of crossing the yard in the time it takes for you to even consider trying to scale the tall fence. It’s one of the only times he’s actually put hands on you, carefully restraining you and then letting go once you were both safely inside again. You sported one, singular bruise that he fussed over despite your hissing and cursing.

What about when he’s away on missions? He has the ability to call you, and you him, though you don’t. He preps well in advance for being gone. Frozen stews that you can heat up. Pre-cut meat if you want to cook. Frozen veggies aren’t GREAT, but he’s left some vitamin supplements and dried fruits.

When he gets back, he always gives you a once over. Usually from afar, but if he sees something that concerns him, he’ll have to try to coax you closer. After the first two times he cornered you just to inspect a stupid bruise, you learned to tolerate the poking and prodding with minimal snarling, biting, and yanking.

He’s got a plan if something happens to him too. Johnny will, of course, take over your care.

You didn’t think you could get angrier at anyone more than Simon, until he brings a strange Scottish man into your HOME, the place you’re SAFE. And the man takes one look at you, whistles, and murmurs, “isn’t she a beaut?”

You may or may not try to strangle him with his own dog tags. Simon may or may not laugh at his dumb friend before expertly prying you off. You take a bite out of him too, but he’s used to it by now. Just shakes out his arm and ushers you off, chuckling “go sulk in a corner, little one.”

And you do, but not because he told you to. In fact, you make it a point to scowl at Johnny the entire time he’s there, always just within view but far, far away. You’re pissed at Simon too. Can’t believe there’s TWO of them now.

When Johnny finally leaves, Simon tries to coax you from your room - there are no locks, but he understands what it means when you’ve cocooned yourself on the high bunk of your bed.

“You’re not going to come down?” He croons.

“Fuck off,” you grumble.

“Not even if I have a peace offering?”

You poke your head out and lean over the railing a bit, peering down narrow-eyed and terribly grumpy. Simon forces himself not to coo at you, it’ll just make you crankier. He holds up a new book - one you’ve been talking about wanting.

“Have something to go with this if you come down,” he entreats.

And well, you’re hungry anyway. So you clamber down, wrinkling your nose when he tries to scratch behind your ear. Then he leads you out, to the back of the house which has been blocked off for the last month. There’s a new door - he pops it open, revealing a closed in patio.

“Plexiglass,” he explains as you creep outside. “So you’ll be safe but can still see the yard.”

It’ll get a lot of light, you’ll see the rain. There are little tables and cushions and a daybed with blankets. It’s - damn him - perfect.

“Is… he coming by again?” you ask, feeling at a soft pillow.

“Johnny? Probably not, unless I die.”

You twist, looking alarmed.

“Not likely to happen,” he soothes, ruffling your hair just to see you pout and swat at him. “Have someone relying on me after all.”

You blush again. You’ve been doing that a lot. He lets you snatch the book from his hands.

“Unless you want him to come by again? You could use a little socializing, feral thing.”

He’s right, but Simon is barely tolerable, never mind is friends.

“Hmph.”

“Alright, maybe in a couple weeks.”

[giggly-squiggily]

Never Bore A Mischievous Demon (Blue Lock)

Heyo! Welcome to "Squiggily's self indulgent hour"- the post in which I write something out of pure desire and put my whole Ryusae loving self into it! I can't tell you why I had the sudden urge to write these two; I just did- and here we are :D

CW: Swearing, Suggestive humor (It's Shidou ya'll), possible Blue Lock spoilers! (I didn't have a setting in mind when I wrote this but gonna put that there and in the tags just in case)

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn, @cupcake-spice13 @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @riisada @ticklish-n-stuff

Summary: Shidou loves Sae's laugh. Sae hates when Shidou tickles him. One of them is lying.

He was bored. It was never a good sign when Shidou was bored.

Swinging himself on the balls of his feet, he dared a peek into the locker room to find Sae getting dressed. Practice ran late, the sky around them a warm orange color and the locker room mostly empty.

He smelled like expensive body wash and lotion, skin smooth against defined muscles. His hair mused from the shirt he pulled overhead, still damp from his shower. He looked a bit tired, pausing his dressing to yawn.

Shidou saw an opportunity and took it.

Faster than the speed of light, he darted behind Sae and grabbed his waist, pressing his fingers into the bare skin of his stomach.

“AH!” The shorter boy yelped and spasmed, an elbow lodging itself into Shidou’s own gut. It did nothing to deter the other boy. “Damn it, demon- get the hell off!”

Shidou laughed heartily, grinning at Sae’s death glare. “What, Sae-Sae? You know what happens if you take forever to get dressed!” He leaned in real close, just inches from his ear. “I get eager.”

“Go take care of it with your left hand.” Sae elbowed him again, jerking once more when Shidou let his fingers trail across his skin. Free from his clutches, he hastily pulled his shirt all the way down and grabbed his bag, eager to get away. “Do that again and I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Sae?” Shidou was before him once more, blocking him in with a teasing smile. “I wanna know- tell me what you’re gonna do to me~”

The other man’s eyes narrowed into slits, going for unfazed. So stoic yet so expressive; Shidou loved these little quirks only he seemed to find within the picture-perfect player. Right now, his expression seemed annoyed, but he could tell by the tightness of his jaw and flush creeping above his collar he was getting nervous.

Oh, how Shidou loved it when Sae got nervous.

“Go die.” Sae walked past him, making a point to shoulder check him on the way out. Shidou laughed as he followed along, relishing in his speedy pace.

Oh what fun they would have when they returned home.

~~~

Sae felt his pulse racing in his ears as they walked the steps up to their hotel room. He tried to tell himself it was just the exhaustion, but he knew better.

Shidou was behind him, keeping a bit of distance and whistling a tune. Their relationship wasn’t a secret- there’d been many times they’ve come in with Shidou’s arm around his waist or his lips against his own. If anyone had an issue, they didn’t dare voice it. The perks of being who he was.

No- this distance was intentional. A false state of security the demon knew would make him antsy. He knew for now he was safe, but once that door opened…

Pausing before it, Sae took his time searching for the key- digging through his gym bag while Shidou carried on whistling. He could feel his eyes on him, watching his every move. It sent goosebumps across his skin; something Sae rarely felt with anybody.

Bastard. He hated how something as trivial as a look affected him.

No point stalling- Shidou would get impatient soon. Past mistakes taught him there was a time limit to how long he could keep the demon at bay. He swiped his card and unlocked the door.

The whistling came to an end. Sae tried not to look as he walked in.

The second the door closed- he ran.

“Sae-Sae~” Shidou laughed as the striker took off, sprinting for- what exactly? Their room? The bath? The balcony??? He didn’t think this through; another effect Shidou had on him. The demon was hot on his heels, fingers swiping at him and just barely making contact with his shirt. He needed to get away, now.

He found himself in a standstill with the demon, glaring into those sharp pink eyes. Shidou was grinning, flinching left and right to throw off Sae’s escape. Each fake out made him laugh, the sound ringing in Sae’s ears like a windchime. “Where you gonna go? Whatcha gonna do? You know you can’t hide from me!”

Bedroom it was. Sae sprinted, the thump of Shidou vaulting over the couch following him. He was so close-

“GOTCHA!” Shidou yelled as Sae swore, fingers just brushing the door. So close!

“Put me down, demon!” Sae grunted as he was swung around, half-carried into the room by the giggly man. He was soon tossed into the bed, sending the neatly lined up pillows flying. Before Sae had a chance to react, Shidou was on him, tugging at his shirt.

“Don’t you even think about it- Shidou!” Sae growled, fighting with all his might. Unfortunately for him, it was at this time the demon decided to enact his masterplan, pinching at his sides. “Knock it ohohff!”

“Hehehe, I told you, Sae-Sae; if you keep me waiting, I get eager.” Shidou beamed as he managed to shove a hand up Sae’s shirt, pressing his hand against warm skin. “And I want to be fed.”

“Fuck of-Ohoohhoff!” Sae wished he could have held out longer. Maybe if Shidou went somewhere less ticklish like his ribs he could. If he’d gone for his neck this entire scenario might have played out very differently.

Alas, he went right for the one spot he knew could break Sae down immediately. Well- near immediately anyway. “Ghoohohoh bahhahck to heheheell, yoohohohu dammahhahan behhhahahast!”

“Aww, why would I wanna go back when I’m in heaven?” Shidou cooed sweetly, his hands scratching at Sae’s stomach rapidly, making the smaller striker thrash about. “You can’t give a man a taste of your golden laugh and expect him never to come back, now can you?”

Sae wanted to punch him. He might have, if he wasn’t too busy fighting off the talons tracing random patterns into his skin. Each flick and press of Shidou’s fingers zapped his strength, the touch poisonous to his resistance. “Aheahahhaha, shhuuhhuuht uhuhuhp! Gehahahahaha, yohoohohohu’re just beheehheing duuhu-Gahhahahaha!”

“I’m being what? Dashing? Demonically attractive? Whatcha gonna say, Sae-Sae?” Shidou cooed, drilling both thumbs into the sides of his stomach as the rest of his fingers tapped along his waist. He leaned in closer to Sae’s flushed cheeks, pressing their foreheads together. This time, he was wise to move in only after Sae jerked. “Are you gonna tell me how you really feel? That you’re actually enjoying this? Hmm?”

He didn’t need words to know the truth. Sae’s actions made it clear he was. The lack of resistance, the hands on Shidou’s shoulders barely pushing him back- if anything they seemed to cling to him- how despite trying to glare, he couldn’t hold eye contact while giggling up a storm. 

God, why was he so freaking cute?

“Geahhahaha! Fuhuuhuhck! Fuhuhuhck, ohohohoaky! Ohoohohkay gehhehet the heheheell ohohohoff!” Alas- all good things must come to an end. Shidou didn’t fight when Sae put real strength in his shove, sending the other tumbling into the sheets. He didn’t fight back when Sae wrestled him on his back, glaring down at him through flushed cheeks and small pants. If anything- he stretched out beneath him with a lazy smile, drinking in the sight. “Thehehere…ahahahss.”

“Hmm.” Shidou smiled bigger, earning an eye roll from the other boy. He reached up, gently pinching Sae’s cheek. “Cutie.”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable.” Sae shoved his chest before starting to get up, making exactly one centimeter before Shidou pulled him down into him. “Lemme go.”

“Never!” Shidou laughed, further entangling their limbs as he pressed a fat kiss into Sae’s cheek. “You’re mine!”

“So annoying.” Sae groaned, but his squirms for freedom stopped. He let himself relax into Shidou’s embrace- pretending the heat in his cheeks was from the previous tickle fight. “You shouldn’t be allowed to tickle me since you’re not ticklish yourself.”

“Who said I wasn’t?” The taller boy asked, grinning when Sae leaned back to stare. “What? Just because you haven’t found it yet doesn’t mean I’m not.”

Sae narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Shidou resisted the urge to laugh. “I don’t believe you.”

“Tell you what- since you’re so cute; I’ll tell you.” Sae’s eyes narrowed further, but he let Shidou lean in. His breath tickled his ear as he whispered.

“Gross.” Sae rolled his eyes to the back of his head, smacking Shidou’s bicep as the other laughed into his neck. “Be serious, demon!”

“I am! Wanna try it out?” Shidou winked, laughing harder when Sae pinched his bicep. “Really though- I am ticklish somewhere. I’m sure you’ll find it eventually.”

“Of course I will.”

“So confident.” Shidou snickered as he pulled Sae back into his chest. “That’s what I love about you though- or I should say, one of the many things I love about you.”

So much for blaming his blush on something else. Sae let out a small noise of defeat as he pressed closer into Shidou’s chest, the day catching up on him. Shidou’s long fingers ran down his spine at such a soothing pace, he couldn’t bring himself to fight anymore. “I take it tickling me is one of the things you love as well?”

“Tickling, telling bad jokes- whatever makes you laugh really.” Shidou smiled in his crown, breathing in his scent. “I just love seeing you smile and hearing you happy. It makes me happier than anything.”

Sae didn’t have words; he suddenly didn’t trust his voice. Instead, he curled his fingers into Shidou’s shirt, pretending he was falling asleep and not fighting off the strange lump forming in his throat. Above him, Shidou carried on stroking his back, murmuring into his crown more sickly sweet things until he was properly out; dreaming of demons with pink eyes and funny smiles that made his heart do stupid little flips.

Thanks for reading!

[spookysmujer]

‘03 Bonnie & Clyde, O.Diaz

Summary: After hearing many stories of the infamous Santo, Oscar Diaz, you have your first encounter with him at a block party.

warnings: cute s h e t 🥺

word count: 1.2K

a/n: All we need in this life of sin is Oscar’s fine ass 🥵 thank you for requesting babes!  Please consider: following my blog, heart/comment/reblog my content as well as turning on the notifs for when I post new content, much appreciated :)

requested by: @justatiredfool​

(gif belongs to @goldscoyne​ ✨)

You weren’t one to go to parties. In fact you can count on one hand how many parties you had been to since the end of high school. It’s sad but it’s who you are. You prefer the comfort of your own home along with a good book and some red wine. But after the many mentions of the party from a friend, you felt you had no choice but to say yes. 

“I am so happy you are here! Go mingle!” 

Another cup beer is placed in your hand. Your friend is gone just as soon as she appeared. You shake your head with a small smile on your lips while taking a sip of the bitter liquid. There are a bunch of familiar faces here along with some you don’t know. No harm in making new friends?

The first summer party since graduating high school a few weeks ago. It’ll be fun, you’ll drink and enjoy some good company. It’s a time to celebrate! You’re in the corner, watching guys play beer pong and girls ogling over them. Soon enough the house piles with more bodies and it feels overly clustered.

Out in the backyard, it’s nearly as packed but there is more free flowing air. You scan the crowd and see a bunch of classmates, lower classmen and the town’s up-to-no good gang, the Santos. The older group of guys have girls surrounding them. It’s pathetic to see how they are flinging themselves at them for attention that will probably only last one night. 

For a moment you watch the one they call ‘Spooky’. How is it they get their names when joining a gang? Is it given to them? Do they do something that determines it? You are so lost in trying to figure it out, you find he is staring back at you. Some of the other Santos taking notice as well. The smug looks on their faces make you step away, bumping into someone and spilling your drink all over your top. You groan and make your way to the bathroom.

The fabric of your halter top is soaked and there is no way you plan on spending the night like this. You send a quick text to your friend that you have to leave. But she doesn’t respond at all and you remember quickly that she was your ride to the party. You are standing near the street, cursing to yourself, “You’re Y/S/N’s little sister, right?” 

The voice makes you jump as you swivel on your heel to see Spooky standing behind you. You clutch your chest and look around if there is anyone else he could be talking to. Though it’s dumb to think so considering he just asked about your older sister. “Um, yeah I am. How do you know her?” He cracks a small smile.

“Went to school with her. Though she stayed behind a grade due to getting knocked up, she was a cool ass chick.” He explains and you nod, intrigued that he was never mentioned in any conversations you had with Y/S/N. “What’s your name?”

You take a second before answering, “Y/N.”

He nods, stepping away from you to light a blunt. You watch as he fires it up and takes a big hit, holding out to you as an offer. You politely decline, trying to not make things awkward but you’ve never talked with a gang member before. Or an older guy at that. Your sister is nearly 7 years older than you.

“Cool. Y/N.” You smile and look away. Something about how he is painted as this badass guy but the more you keep looking at him, his features seem so soft. And he speaks respectfully towards you. “Trying to get home. Soaked my top.” 

“I can give you a ride, party is lame and half these hynas can’t take a hint.” That makes you laugh and you ponder the offer of a ride home. And though you were always told to never jump in with strangers, you don’t feel entirely uncomfortable around him.

You look around and notice your low battery on your phone. It would die soon and you’d really be stranded not being able to call an uber or lyft. With your sister no longer living in Freeridge, parents divorced with your dad out of the picture and mom an ER nurse currently working a graveyard shift, the Santo leader is your next best option.

He waits for a response, “You sure? I mean… it won’t be bad for your reputation to be seen driving around a fresh outta high school hyna?” It’s his turn to laugh. “On the contrary.”

After sometime you nod your head and he leads his way to his ride. It's a beautiful 1963 Chevy Impala in a gleaming red color. You admire it as you approach it. He notices you looking at it with big interest, most girls exaggerated how much of a sexy car it is just to get in it and make out with him. But you are different with it and he admires that about you.

You run your hand along the hood of it. It’s nothing new to see these old school rides in California but for a place like Freeridge with all the goes down, his car is in mint condition, “You into cars?” He asks as you straighten up after leaning down to take a look at his trims. “Not really, but my dad used to always check out those car shows a couple of towns over, I remember him talking about Impalas a lot.”

“What kind of ride does he have?” You chuckle, “I wouldn’t know, he left when I was 7.” He watches as you get in through the passenger side. Turns out there are more similarities between the two of you than meets the eye.

“Are you sure you are okay with driving me home,Spooky? Aren’t your friends gonna think something?” Oscar always preferred that the ladies call him by his street name. He internally cringed hearing you call him that as he turned on the engine. “ Call me Oscar, they ain’t gonna think of nothing. I’m just giving you a ride home.” 

You look over at him and watch him for a brief moment. Truly how the saying goes that there is more beneath the surface. Your first thoughts of him were of a gangster that could never be up to no good. But turns out, he isn’t half as bad.

After giving him directions to your place, he’s pulling onto the street no longer than 15 minutes later. And within that time, you two chatted up about all kinds of things. Cars, school, even some hopes and dreams. You hadn’t noticed the time that passed by til you checked the time on his dash.

“Geez, it’s nearly 4AM. My bad.” You apologize knowing you can be quite chatty, he brushes it off, thanking you for the company you gave him. “I should get in. My mom will be home in half an hour and well, she has a mean throwing arm with range.”

Oscar laughs wholeheartedly at your comment, making you laugh as well. “Gracias por todo, Oscar. Um, there’s a car show outside of LA next week. I don’t know much about rides but I’m sure you’d like it.”

Are these butterflies? Oscar thinks as you wait for an answer, “Sounds dope. I’ll pick you. Um, should I call?” He asks you as the feeling of butterflies begins to fill your stomach. You nod and pull out your eyeliner from your purse to scribble on his arm, he looks at it then to you as you exit his car. A smile stuck on his face.

How eventful tonight has been.

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss@princesstiffxoxo@firebenderwolf @spookysnena @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98@multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @roury66 @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3@starrynite7114 @onmyspookysblock @aneitii​ @b3mybunnybaby​  @angelxfics​  @spookysbabymama​ @kkim120​ @ladylj​ @vayagrxce​ @irenne-stans​ @boujee-bitches​ (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

[butwhyduh]

Can you write something with Cassandra Cain/ Black Bat and the prompt ‘sexy training/sparring’ with supersis!reader?

Ooooo Interesting idea.

Warning: suggestive but no smut

Another complete mission done and the post mission meeting was coming to a close and you just wanted to take your shower and go to bed. Nightwing finally nodded and you started walking up to your room along with everyone else.

“Hey, can I talk to you,” he asked and you turned around. The others filed out around you.

“You were reckless. You could have gotten hurt today-“

“I don’t have a scratch on me-“

“And if they had Kryptonite or magic, you’d be dead,” he finished his sentence. “You need training before I let you go back out in the field. You’ll get someone hurt. Mandatory remedial training starts tomorrow.”

“Wing- really?” You protested.

“Yep! And I have just the person to punch you into shape,” Dick said with a positivity that was purposefully annoying.

“Who?”

“Black Bat,” he said while leaving the room.

“… Black Bat?” You mumbled after he left. So you’d worked with her a few times. She’s an insanely good fighter and her outfit is super scary. And you might have a tiny huge crush on her.

The next morning you were surprisingly nervous. Was it the fact that your heart beat a little faster when you thought of spending all day with her? Maybe. Was it genuine worry that she might find a way to actually hurt you? Maybe. We’re you gonna get your ass beat? Absolutely.

Cassandra and Dick walked in together and he rubbed his hands together happily. She was wearing black Lycra clothing and no mask. Her black hair was chin length and brushed back from her forehead.

“Okay so Cass is gonna train you with some defensive and offensive maneuvers but first we just want you to spar. No powers from you,” he looked at you. “No speed, no flight, and definitely no super strength. Cassandra is still a regular human. Even though she kicks everyone’s butt,” Dick said in a false whisper. Cass had a small smile.

“I’m not worried,” she said and her smile grew. You smiled nervously. You were gonna die.

“Alright, let’s spar,” Dick said.

“Okay,” you squeaked out.

Cass got in a fighting pose and you held your hands up. She immediately swept your legs from beneath you and you landed on the mat solidly. You tried to jump back up but a kick to the side had to landing on the ground again with a small oof of air puffing from your chest and if actually hurt. That was a new sensation.

“You are.. durable,” she said conversationally as she danced around you and you barely dogged most of her punches.

“Uh yeah, part Kryptonian,” you answered and another kick landed on your ribs and you were wincing in pain. How was she actually hurting you?

“That kick would have killed anyone else and she barely reacted,” she told Dick. He nodded. “But she is not trained to fight. Only strong enough to be hit,” Cass added.

“I’m right here,” you protested. “Wait, killed??”

She kicked your legs from beneath you and you landed bodily on the ground. Cass quickly wrapped her legs around your arm and shoulder in a hold and pulled. It didn’t quite hurt but you weren’t able to move either.

“Do you tap out,” Dick asked and you kinda pulled your arm for Cass to go along with it. You tried to sit up and was rewarded with a kick to the same spot on your side as before. It dropped you back to the floor.

“… yeah,” you groaned. She immediately let go and got back in a standing position. You rolled to your feet slowly.

“No super strength,” Cass reminded you.

“Again? You beat me easily,” you said.

“Make it less easy,” she smiled widely and your heart pounded in your chest at the sight, even though it meant she was going to beat you up again.

Dick’s phone went off and he walked to the edge of the room to answer. You took the break to grab some water. You weren’t tired exactly but it was something to do. He came back with an apologetic look.

“I’ve got to go. But you two keep it up. Cass knows what she’s doing. Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. We’re having fun,” she said.

“We are?” You said surprised.

“Yes, I don’t have to hold back.”

“Great,” Dick said as he left the room and you up Cassandra’s mercy. Your nerves went sky high. You were way too attracted to her to act normal in this situation.

She stood back in a fighting pose and motioned for you to attack her. You gave a punch far from full strength and before you could blink, she had hit you twice in the ribs with the side of her hand and pulled your hand behind your back and upwards.

“Don’t leave yourself open. Hands up,” she commented while releasing your hand. You nodded.

You started again with a punch and this time you blocked one hit but she kneed you in the stomach instead and you groaned. How hard could she hit?? She knew what areas to hit. You tried to punch her and she knocked your legs from beneath you and you hit the mat again, this time on your back.

Cass straddled your waist and started hurling you with a barrage of punches that you could barely dodge. You tried to hit back only to have her tie your wrists with a rope you hadn’t even seen her grab from some pocket. She was lightning fast. You pulled at them before stopping when you realized you couldn’t use your super strength in the fight.

“Do you tap out,” she asked and you could only stare at her. Holy shit you were too gay for this. Way too gay. She was straddling your waist ffs.

One of those things that wasn’t public knowledge was her increased abilities to read body language. Cass studied you and the way you moved and looked at her and it didn’t take much to learn what was on your mind.

She increased the pressure by pulling your wrists. You gasped. “Do you tap out?” Cass repeated, looming over you.

“I- uhh,” you stuttered. Your mind was gone. Smoke. A pretty girl was on top of you.

“Why are you… flustered,” she asked. She was staring at you like a detective. Was she bending closer? Her heartbeat wasn’t louder, you realized. But that didn’t mean much to a bat who probably trained that away.

“Well- you’re, I mean,” you stuttered again. She was definitely bending down towards you and you froze. Cass bent by your ear and your skin tingled at her breath.

“You find me distracting,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. “You often watch me train.” She ran her teeth along the edge of your earlobe and you loudly inhaled. Your hand wrapped around one of her wrists lightly as best it could. Cass turned her head and you couldn’t help but look down at her lips.

“You’re brash. And reckless,” she stated and you gulped. She looked your face over before continuing. “But you have a kind heart.”

You turned your face to better accommodate a kiss if she wished. Hopeful but certainly not expectant.

“Too bad you can not fight,” she mused before pressing her lips against yours. You melted in her touch. You tried to cup her face or hug her or anything to only feel the rope around your wrist. She nibbled on your lip and you ripped the rope to thread your hand in her hair.

She pulled back. “No super strength.”

“But-“

“None,” she said tilting your chin up towards her. You put your wrists back where she had them. She pressed her lips back against yours and you couldn’t help the soft sounds you made. You pulled away at the noises in the hall.

“Nightwing,” you breathed and Cass was up and standing like nothing happened within a second and right before Dick opened the door. You, of course, looked like an idiot laying on the ground.

“Any progress,” Dick asked as you stood back up.

“Uhh,” you started.

“She will learn,” Cass answered. Dick was looking at you and Cass grinned like a cat at you from behind you.

“Yep,” you said and he smiled.

“Good. We’ll schedule it a few times a week,” Dick said while typing on his phone. Probably making the schedule already. “Just until Cass decides you’re ready. Now you have flying training with Koriand’r. You’ll be in fighting shape in no time.”

————————————

Hours later:

“So how is Y/n doing?” Clark asked Dick.

“Good. She’s training to be a better fighter before I put her out in the field.”

“Who with?” Clark asked with a frown. “Even though she didn’t grow up fighting, she has super streng-“

“Don’t worry. She’s training with Black Bat and to be honest, she probably won’t get a single hit in,” Dick said with a grin.

“I’m surprised she didn’t faint,” Clark said jokingly. Dick’s smile dropped.

“Is she having an health problems or anything-“

“No no. She’s just a… big fan,” Clark said. Dick nodded casually before realization hit him.

“Like that?”

“Hahaha yeah,” Clark said with a laugh. “Anyways, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”

[cinnamonest]

Congratulations, gentlemen. You made yourselves single again! 👏👏

That really made me angry tho :) I wonder how you can get them to stop? Like, the reader tells them that their parents separated because one of them cheated on the other and that greatly affected you, solidifying your absolute loyalty towards your partner?

I can see this backfiring a little bit tho lol (shame on you Venti. Take a page from Benny here, who you're SUPPOSED TO be on the same level 😤)

Ooooh... That's it anon I'm making HCs for breaking up with them and it’s not gonna be pleasant >:)

Modern AU -- breakups

TW: homicide-suicide mentions, intense slutshaming on one, cheating-related stuff, physical abuse/pain, sexism. And like most of these are kiiiiiinda pretty severe, not mild, so you've been warned

=========== Kaeya

It's *other people's* fault isn't it? Other people brainwashed you, made you hate him! But whose fault is it? If there's no specific people he'll just have to get rid of everyone. But he has to persuade you first. Which is why you wake up with either a knife to your chest or a gun to your head. It's simple. Either you get back together... Or you die. Don't worry though, even if you choose to die, he's loyal. He'll just kill himself after killing you and everyone you know and chase you into the afterlife itself. Isn't that kinda romantic in a way? How devoted he is to loving you? Pulls the if I can't have you, no one can line.

Oh, and if you choose to not die, you're going to help. You're going to name every single guy and you're going to tell him where they live and you're going to choose how they die. You get to pick the methods -- one dies by stabbing, one dies by shooting, you can even come up with some creative ones if you want! And you choose who gets what and in which order they'll die. That's how you prove your love. You'll drive to each and every place, get out of the car (at knifepoint if necessary), and go knock on the door while he stands to the side. It's you, so they'll let you in. They probably think you're there to fuck, since you've probably been a cocktease to every guy you know. They won't see it coming.

  And there's another rule. If you start crying, you'll be the one to kill them. If you won't do it, he'll just hold the gun in your hand and wrap his index finger over yours to pull the trigger. Again, kinda romantic in a way. But since he didn't touch it... it'll be your fingerprints on it, and the gun is left at the scene. We wouldn't want you doing anything stupid like going to the police, would we? This is just a measure to keep you from making a stupid decision like that. And then when the police come looking for you, since you're associated with the victim... well, maybe then you'll be grateful that you're locked up in the basement, hidden away. Albedo

Says no. You're flabbergasted for a minute, what do you mean no? You don't get to decide! He says yes he does. His voice and face gets dark and you feel a fear creep up in your chest. You know he's, well, really controlling and toxic, but not... Unhinged enough to do something... Really bad... Right? He takes a step forward. You take a step back. And then you realize that yes, yes he is that unhinged. You tell him you're insane. You bolt. It's futile. Arms latch around your waist and you realize maybe having this breakup alone in your/his place wasn't a good idea. Drags you to the bed kicking and screaming and takes you right there, rambling about how he'll show you why trying to throw him away is a mistake. You're just crazy. Hysterical. Delusional. You don't even know what you're doing.

  Or maybe... Maybe this was intentional, wasn't it? You wanted this. You wanted to make them mad and make them fuck you so that you could feel important and needed. You never expected them to let you dump them, you had no intention of doing so, this was all for attention. And you have the nerve to call him toxic. Girls do this kind of thing all the time, they'll do drastic or extreme things for attention and affirmation without thinking it through, because you can't be level headed, you think with your feelings. Girls blow things out of proportion too, are overdramatic like that, because he's really not as bad as you claim. You're over dramatic. You're making a big deal out of nothing. It's ridiculous.

And if you have to feel pain to understand that, well, so be it. Ties you up, face down ass up, and belts or whips your ass and thighs until you admit it. Admit you're being ridiculous, admit you're just trying to get attention and make him mad, admit that you're immature and hysterical. Once you do that, you can be untied. But because you're overdramatic, you'll go out and make shit up to other people, so for now, you'll at least stay bound to bed until you can be trusted. Childe/Zhongli

He just... well, the reaction depends. Childe rolls his eyes, Zhongli just kind of chuckles. He doesn't have the dark reaction because he doesn't take you seriously. He assumes from the get-go that this was for attention, to make them jealous, you're just like an angry little kitten scratching it's master when it's mad, a kid yelling at their parent that they hate them and "running away", aka going two blocks down the street and then coming back crying. Really, it's like you to pull something like this because you're a whiny little brat that doesn't think things through. That's why you need him, you just are too childish to be grateful. You're petulant, immature. And you'd just come running back to him within 24 hours, anyway. Because you couldn't handle life without him. You'd realize very quickly what a mistake it was.

  But yeah he acts like you're not serious, just rolls off his shoulders. You insist you ARE serious. He sighs, God you're such a child. You're gonna go out there and go fuck someone and then come back and rub it in his face to make him jealous, that's your plan isn't it? That's what he says as he stands between you and the door.

  But you know what? He should let you do it, let you go, then slam the door in your face when you come crawling back. He should. That's what any self-respecting person would do. You are so, so lucky that not only would he take your ungrateful, immature ass back if you did, but he knows you'd regret it so much that he's going to be the mature one here and prevent you from doing it in the first place.

If you want to behave like a child, fine, he'll treat you like a child. Children live with their parents. Children don't choose when they leave or what they do. You'll be like a child... he controls you, keeps you, tells you what you can and can't do. And when children are bad, they get grounded. They have to stay inside and can't leave. Until they learn their lesson. That's the only way you'll learn. And once you've decided to be good, once you can come out, maybe you'll be a little more respectful. Diluc/Xiao/Xingqiu

Assumes there's someone else, isn't there? You've been cheating on him haven't you? Calls you a slut and a whore but, you know, he loves you even though you're a slut. You know who else loves sluts? Yeah. No one. He's the only person who would ever forgive you. Anyone else would think you're disgusting and used.

He needs to know who the someone else is, though. Maybe it's similar to the attention seeker - you're trying to make him jealous. After all, it can't actually be for the sex, since no one else could ever fuck you like he does. You want him to prove himself? Fine. He found several guys when they went through your phone. It's one of them isn't it? Or maybe all of them, maybe you really are a whore. Well, since you refuse to tell him and keep lying saying that's not true, maybe they'll just kill all of them. Happy now? God, you're a demanding slut too. Sluts have no right to be so conceited as you are, they have no right to demand anything. You should grovel for forgiveness. No one else would forgive you, but he does, and you should be grateful.

He gets violent. If you don't wanna grovel, he'll make you. Shoves you down to the floor face down, but before you can recover he steps on your head, pressing your face into the floor with their boots. You can get up after you've told them the guy's name and begged for forgiveness. You insist there's no other guy... Whoops, looks like they stomped and broke your poor nose, based on your shrieking. ...How about now? In the end, you're forced to name a random male friend... Poor guy.

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Springtrap

Yandere

Male Reader

You can read part 1 here 

You can read part 2 here

Part 3; Finale

Spinning your keys around your finger, you go to slip them into the backdoor's lock, finding that turning it was difficult. 

Far too difficult.

"Did someone break in?" You mutter, pulling the key out and beginning the walk around to the other entrance. "Well, if they did I doubt they'd stay long, not with William there."

Entering through the front, you look around the dark establishment, trying to spot if anything had been stolen or otherwise interacted with violently. With a sigh of relief at the sight of everything being normal, you fully step in, making your way through the building and wondering with a disgusted expression how William was able to walk through this place barefoot.

Turning the corner that allowed you to look into the window of your office, you see your golden-green companion looking at the door with his head tilted, an unrecognizable expression on his face.

"Yeah, the lock's broken for whatever reason." You say, his gaze shifting before his face does.

"Mhm." He walks towards you, stopping a few meters away. "Say, have you thought about me very much?"

Caught off guard by the question, you tilt your head. "Huh?"

"My existence. How I came to be trapped in a suit." He elaborates.

"Not really, to be honest… why?"

He looks into the office window, eyeing that tablet. "The suit, being an original model, incorporated these little devices known as springlocks."

Your brows furrow. You only knew of Springbonnie and Fredbear from random things online, so the inner workings of them was completely unknown to you. 

"The reason why they're called suits; the springlocks pushed back all the little bits of animatronic things that filled them, thus allowing them to be worn by employees. I, as you can tell, was one of them." His gaze shifts back to you. "However, I wasn't when I was subjected to my slow death."

He takes one small step towards you. "It was in a room known as the saferoom- ironic, isn't it- which was invisible to both cameras and the animatronics that walked around."

His lips twitch up. "I hid in there, waiting for them to come near me. When they did, I broke them. They all came, and all of their shells were destroyed."

Shells? Destroying the animatronics?

You watch as he takes another step forward, this one larger. 

"But, the ones inside those shells weren't so easily deterred."

Ones inside…? 

"They chased me. Forced me into hiding in the suit. They wanted revenge; wanted me dead."

He takes a few larger steps, now within arms length. You, however, grow uneasy, stepping back. His eyes stay locked with yours, a soft grin on his lips. 

You truly do look like his prey.

"I don't blame them. After all, who wouldn't want their murderer dead?" 

Your eyes widen as your suspicions are proven correct. When he takes a step forward, you do the same in reverse. If you look away for one moment, he'll catch you. You've seen his speed.

His eyes glow in the dim light, lips curling into a nightmarishly wide grin.

"Oh, it seems you've figured out my big secret. Does it change your view of me? Would you still wake up on top of me so calmly?" He laughs. "Would you still let me rest my head on your hand? Would you still so easily approach me?"

You were wrong last night. Dead wrong.

He's terrifyingly monstrous, even as a human.

"Well, I suppose my last question has already been answered." With a small chuckle, he jolts forward, you ducking to the side right before he could reach you and dashing off. He glances your way during his brief pause, expression horrifyingly giddy.

 His steps are loud behind you, and you only manage to reach cam 6 before arms cage you in against the wall, you turning to face the grinning man as you push yourself up against the wall as if trying to force yourself through it.

He lifts his hand, placing it on your chin and using his thumb to brush over your cheek. "You're too adorable. You really are like… my prey."

God, the fear in your eyes…

His grin widens a bit more, and his hand slips to the front of your chin. You clench your eyes shut, hearing a gruff laugh before his chapped lips connect with your own. You tense, feeling his other hand grip your wrist, applying more and more pressure until you let out a pained noise, him taking the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your eyes stay shut until he finally separates, where you reluctantly open them once more, finding a very satisfied-looking William and a small string of saliva temporarily connecting your tongues. "Don't worry. It's not the end of us after just that." He assures.

The hand previously on your chin shifts to your hip, where his fingers press somewhat harshly against the cloth, holding you in place further. Leaning in once more, he grins at the tiny whimper that escapes you. Redirecting himself, he instead aims for a much more sensitive area.

You let out a gasp as you feel his lips against your neck, quietly hissing as he harshly bites down, his sharp canines drawing blood. After he has his fill of that, he follows it up by sucking on the spots he had just bit, you feeling your heartrate pick up even more. 

The sound of your heavy, stuttering breaths in his ear certainly doesn’t discourage the man.

Still, he leans back, enjoying the sight of your reddened face as you reach up, covering your neck with your free hand. This, of course, wouldn’t be the end, but he needs to save the rest for later. 

He steps back.

His grip on your wrist, while looser than before, is still firm as he begins to walk you back to the hall in front of the office. "Now, I have a little game for us to play. We've done it before, so I won't explain the rules. If you make it to 6, I'll let you leave. But if you don't…" He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at your panicked face, which he responds to with a smile. "Well, I'm sure you can guess."

Standing in front of the entrance to the office, he waits for you to hesitantly enter. 

"As usual, I'll start in the back. Don't even try to escape, it's not gonna work. I broke the lock and that door isn't going to be breaking from anything but power tools."

You give a small nod, eyes shifting to the chair.

"Well, good luck. You'll most definitely need it." 

You don't react to his voice, walking towards the chair as he begins his walk back. 

You turn on your phone, checking the time and finding that fifteen minutes have already passed. 

You can't call for help, if anyone came in they'd be killed by him. If he lived through an endoskeleton being shoved into him, he'll live through pretty much anything.

Still, you text your brother quickly.

You put your phone down, not caring about the wave of notifications that came from him spamming trying to get you to respond.

Pulling the camera pad out, you switch to where he normally starts right as he walks in. He sends a chilling smile up at the camera, eyes eerily glowing within the shadows. 

"Let's begin!" He calls. 

Immediately, your eyes widen as he reaches up, ripping the camera right off of the wall.

You feel your breathing pick up again as your heart pounds out of your chest. 

You aren't going to make it. 

When he dashes into the next room, you lead him back. He snarls. Briefly, before cam 10 gets ripped off of the wall, you see him glance at the vent.

Thankfully, he ignores it, running into the next room before you hit him with the sound again, rebooting audio and cameras tight as they go out. 

"Fuck that guy for making this shit so 'authentic' it breaks down every two seconds!" You mumble to yourself. 

William tears cam 8 down, running out once more. When you manage to catch him, he's in cam 4, and you lead him back with more audio. 

"You won't keep this up, you know! You'll run out of cameras!" He laughs, the sound echoing in the building.

You frown as cam 5 goes out. You lead him back further, hearing the thumping of the vents and quickly switching your cameras to them, sealing off a vent thankfully just in time. His grin drops.

You check the time. 

It's 2. 

5 of 10 cameras have already been torn down, and you are unable to play audio from them.

He gets out of the vent surprisingly quickly, continuing his race to you. 

When he reaches another vent, you block it off before he reaches the end. He rips off a camera that you haven't even used yet upon getting out. As soon as he sees cam 3, he rips it off as well.

You see the first sparks.

You lead him back again, he charges again. 

The cameras start it.

You lead him back again, he charges again.

Soon enough the back half of the building is in flames, swallowing everything and coming for you faster than William could.

You have nowhere to lead him to but right outside your door, and he disappears. 

Completely. 

Not in any cameras, not in any vents, and not in your vision.

The smoke began to pile into your room, so you rip off a sleeve of an old jacket that was left and tie it around your nose and mouth, getting out of your chair to stay lower to the ground.

Frantically, you switch through everything again, continuing to look for him, but turning your head to the sound of a grate both thrown aside. 

He went through the break room.

There, you meet eyes with William, who seems to be doing just fine in the intense heat that fills the attraction.

You quietly gasp, grabbing your throat as smoke fills it even with the makeshift cover. You wince, ripping the cloth off, finding William about three meters from your office. Frantically, you reach towards the vent close button, but when you press it, you hear the sound of failing machinery.

It was broken. 

He broke it the first night, and now you would die because of it.

Blindly grasping for your phone, you send another message to your brother.

'Get fire help' is all you could type out before William pins you to the ground, you barely managing to send it. 

Grabbing your phone out of your hand, William carelessly throws it into the wall, you wincing at the crunching noise. 

"You know, back when I was alive, I did much research on souls. Every soul contains this little thing known as 'Remnant.' Now, Remnant is the only reason I'm alive. There's no way to destroy it, except for fire."

Your eyes widen. 

"This building won't get hot enough to completely destroy our Remnant, so don't worry about that. Still, think of it like a metal. When it gets hot enough, it melts. It can meld into other people's Remnant."

You clench your teeth.

"Of course, there's no way I am going to destroy you. So, instead, I think I'll go with another option." He smirks. 

You can feel your vision get hazy.

"Within this fire I will preserve your warmth, and we will be welded together."

Your lids droop as you feel your breaths become raspy. 

You're going to die to the smoke, not to the fire that roared outside of your office, slowly inching its way in. 

You let out a few more wheezes, feeling lips against your own before your vision goes black.

-

He gets the news less than an hour after he calls the fire department.

His brother, the only immediate family he had left, had died in the fire. 

It doesn't take much thinking to figure out who did it. 

William. 

That man, that murderer, is going to pay.

However long it takes.

-----

i did not plan this out right this part is a lot shorter than it should be but ehh whatever

whoop whoop it is done… I mean I have a sequel planned but either way, this part of the story is done

See ya later :)

[oumaheroes]

Stargazing

Word Count: 2030

Characters: England, France- FrUK

---

‘If you could go back to any era, which would you choose?’ There is a stone in-between France’s shoulder blades, something that finally tips the scales from being comfortable into not, so France rolls onto his side, cradling his head in his hand.

From his spot in the grass next to him, England turns his head lazily, the movement long and slow. His eyes are the last to move, fixed on the stars, and they find France’s with a sharp flick, ‘What?’

‘Are you too drunk to listen?’ France lifts a heavy arm and reaches across the small distance between them to brush some errant hair away from England’s forehead and lets it stay there, tangled in his roots. France himself is wine soft and slow, warm in his stomach and chest from both the day and the drink which settles within him.

England huffs, ‘More like drunk enough that I can stop pretending you’re worth listening to.’

France hums indulgently, far too jovial at the moment to search for any unintended offense, ‘oh, the lies you tell yourself. They do amuse me.’

England frowns, head still facing France and cheek pillowed in the grass.  Wine is not enough to soften him entirely, it seems, ‘that is rich, coming from you.’

France brings his hand down from England’s hair to lay it across his mouth, ‘I’m not starting anything with you this evening, I’m too full.’

England opens his mouth and, very gently, bites the meat of the pad of France’s hand. Just to show that he could and to be difficult, showing that he won’t go down without a fight. France’s small input in the ridiculous battle is to leave it there, refusing to give in. Eventually, England lets go and moves his head away, although not before pressing his teeth down just that bit harder. France reclaims his hand and allows him escape without protest.

‘What drivel did you ask me?’ England looks back up at the sky again, high and cloudless above them.

‘If you could be in any era again, any that we have lived through,’ France repeats, ‘which would you pick to go back to?’ He has caught England in a good mood, one where he has allowed himself to be seen, for a time, without anything sharp covering him. Drink has made him pliant and loose tongued and France, in a similar mood, is keen to make the most of it.

England rolls his head slightly back, considering the question, ‘How long do I get in the era?’

‘No, don’t do that, don’t make it technical. It’s not a difficult question.’

‘It most certainly is, running water always influences things,’ England’s mouth twists in a wry hint of a smile, ‘and it’s one thing to pop back to the Tudor times for one of the court parties and quite another to have to spend more than a week there. I do not lament the loss of hose and codpiece.’

‘I do, they made my legs look fabulous.’

England snorted and rolled his eyes, ‘Why am I not surprised.’

‘You’re avoiding the question,’ France twists away from him briefly to feel for the wine bottle they’d been drinking from. It had rolled away slightly, the slight incline of France’s garden causing it to move easily as they shuffled about and he takes a long swing of it before laying it between them, neck resting on England’s stomach. He’s past beyond the point of using glasses now.

‘I’m not avoiding the question, I was trying to-‘

‘No stop, you’re ruining it; I’ll go first,’ after brushing the grass underneath to clear it of stones, France returns to lying on his back, arms behind his head, and ignores England’s tut of annoyance, ‘I think I’d actually want to go back to the days under Rome, just for a visit.’

England sits up on his elbows and takes a sip from the bottle himself, ‘I hadn’t expected that of you.’

‘No?’

‘God no. I would have thought you’d want to go back to one of your King Luis. You know, peak opulence, decadence- all that faff. You still love the fancy balls and the clothes, and the needless tat that came with it,’ England takes another sip of wine and runs his tongue over his teeth, ‘the dances and the jewels, the silly little court rules of behaviour. The gossip.’

France chuckles, ‘you were so funny every time you were dragged along- so out of place! You couldn’t go more than an hour before letting your true colours slip free.’ England was never truly refined for very long, especially when it came to the Versailles’ court standards.

‘Anyone with a lick of sense was immediately out of place,’ England quips drily and lays down again, placing the cork back in the wine as he goes.

It sounds nearly empty- shame. It was a nice year and the last of the bottles that they’d brought out to the garden. Dinner had been a late, informal affair in France’s kitchen- homemade bread and creamy, locally made cheese with chicken. Simple and filling, comfort food for the both of them. The summer heat made them both unwilling for anything too excessive and the entire day had been spent doing lots of nothing much at all; England lounging about in shorts that France refrained from teasing him about lest he stop wearing them.

‘Yes well,’ France lifts his head and clumsily bats him in the stomach with the top of his hand, ‘despite that indeed being extremely enjoyable, I do mean it. My choice of era, I mean.’

England makes a soft noise that gently demands elaboration, a low rumble in the back of his throat but France needs no prompting. He presses a knuckle into the softness of England’s stomach and feels him breathe in deep and slow.

‘I’d love to have nothing to be responsible for again. Everything was done for me, as a colony- the way my cities were built, the improvements made to my industries, the negotiations for trade and commerce, everything. I’d like to revisit being a child, in the closest sense of childhood our kind has,’ France pauses, mulling that over, ‘Imagine that again, being small but without fear of being so. No politics, no money driven economy, no push for growth. We have spent so much of our lives racing to get somewhere, striving to be more that I can hardly remember what it was like to be nothing more than an idea, existing just to speak for the lives that called themselves mine.’

France turns and catches England watching him, eyes searching and heavy, ‘Does that make sense?’ he asks him.

‘No,’ England’s answer is immediate, ‘no, and yes. The desire to be I understand, but I detested that age.’

France smiles at him, understanding masked by the dark. England does not, and never did, like being anything other than in perfect control of himself. Relinquishing that to someone else, even for his own benefit, has never been anything more than a horror.

‘Well,’ France says, ‘that is my choice. I liked being looked after and I have so much to do nowadays that it would be nice to have nothing to do once again. Nothing more than wander about my fields and see my people, or visit a northern barbarian across the sea.’

‘Don’t talk about Scotland that way, you’ll hurt his feelings.’

France laughs and reaches down to find England’s hand, open palmed and curled fingers by his side. He intertwines his own with it and brings them upwards, watching as together they cut across to block the light from his house and silhouette into a tangle of them both.

‘So,’ he says, running a thumb across the skin of England’s knuckle, ‘what era would you choose?’

England sighs, a light thing but France can hear a yearning there, ‘Any of the years I was at sea. The 1500’s when I was first starting out and even up to the 1700’s when things became more regimented- any of them. To be able to just get in a boat and go, no one knowing when I would come back or even where I was going.’

France shudders, the idea of being out in ocean that deep and so alone chilling him. For creatures that revive after death, who can wake again and again and again as long as there is a body to return to, the ocean is a lonely, painful place to die. To sink lifeless into murky depths, only to reawaken there in the dark press of salty sea; most nations avoided it as much as they could, wishing to avoid the long, drawn out death choked by waves and forgotten on the seafloor.

England never had such a healthy fear of the oceans. He went out into thunderous storms and monstrous waves as if enchanted, unable to resist the pull of something untamed. England sailed off as soon as he was able, going out for further and longer than anyone else dared and losing himself in the harsh life of the brine. He was a different creature far out at sea, something so strangely alive and perfectly at home for a man made from the soul of the mountains and land.

‘You always were a strange one for the macabre,’ France drops their hands back down and finds England once more looking at the sky, the reflection of stars glinting in his eyes.

‘The seas never change,’ his voice is quiet and distant, ‘some things do change, of course- the boats we sail on, how we do so. Things shift on the sea, the lands we travel to and from are washed away and changed with time but the sea itself is always the same. I appreciate it for that, it is predictably unpredictable. Constantly refusing the press of mankind by being the one thing we can never truly understand, for all of mankind’s new fancy gadgets.’

England gives a sudden, dry laugh, ‘I used to navigate the world by constellations, now I have to travel just to find some stars. To the highest peaks I have, or deep in my countryside to avoid as much light pollution as I can. But out at sea they are as they have always been, the same things I have watched and tracked for thousands of years. That is when I can just be as I have always been.’

The sky hangs overhead, speckled and bright and now, France notices, startlingly empty, ‘I often forget that they’re there,’ France speaks to the sky, ‘Funny, isn’t it? How something so fundamental can disappear and mankind not even notice. How odd to forget that stars are there, then to not notice they’re gone.’

‘We are cursed or blessed to remember what’s past,’ England offers, ‘which one depends on who we remember for.’

They lay in silence for a moment. France feels the collected years sit with him openly, laying on his chest and heart like tiny weights. The ground pushes against his back, firm and unmoving, and he breathes in deeply, smelling the heat of the summer in the air. He is here. He is now. He is. Still, after all this time. He watches.

To exist is to change, to live is to evolve and move with the flow of time, but France understands the want for something constant in the flood, something that stays recognisable and the same throughout the years. The older he gets, the more he yearns for it keenly.

‘You’ve gone and made things serious,’ he lifts himself back up on an elbow, England looking at him without moving his head, ‘just like you to take a light conversation and ruin it.’

England raises an eyebrow, “Oh the lies you tell yourself; they do amuse me.”

His French is accented with a Norman dialect, a gentle dig and refusal to fully let France have what he wants and France laughs at it, at this one unchanging constant he is stuck with. He leans down to kiss him, hair curling into England’s face and hiding what remains of the night sky.

----

AN: Every time I try writing one of these small drabbles, I start out with a particular idea and tone in mind but gosh darn it they never go where I intend for them to.

Today we have ended up with this, two old men talking themselves in circles in the summer grass.

[sukunarii]

Omiki: “I've never known the lovin' of a man But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand.” the band perry - if i die young

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Type: Heian Era

Synopsis: You were part of the Zenin family, valued for being a Ten-Shadow Technique user. However, you’ve decided to run away because your family have been exploiting you for your technique. While running away, you encounter Sukuna who seems to have taken an interest in you.

A/N: Minor Manga Spoiler about Jujutsu Techniques! Also I swear these “drabbles” are getting longer and longer lol. 1.4K words!

You sprinted down the market street, shuffling through the crowds of people. You can faintly hear loud and chaotic shouts "Get her!" "Don't let her get away!". You dared to take a glance behind you to see the guards chasing you. They were still far behind. However, the moment you were about to turn your head to look forward again, you bumped into someone. Despite your speed when you collided into him, he didn't seem to stumble at all, he stood firmly while you were knocked backwards. You stumbled a bit but you managed to stay on your feet too. You rubbed your head and looked up at the man in front of you. He was tall, muscular, distinct pink hair.

You gritted your teeth, “Hey could you move, I need to get through--”

“You put up quite a show back there,” he commented.

You didn't have time to entertain him when there's guards hot on your tail, “Move before I make you regret it," you said and attempted to shove past him.

However, he continues to block you.

“Little one, when I am talking. You do not cut me off."

This sounded like a threat.

He continued, "I saw what you did with the rabbits earlier, are you a ten-shadow technique user?”

Whatever this man wanted, you didn't care. You just want him to let you leave before the guards gets here.

Feigning ignorance, you gave him an innocent smile and quickly answered “I don’t know what you are talking about. Now if you'll excuse me...”

You tried for the last time to move past him but this time, he grabs your wrist tightly.

"Do not lie to me," he ordered.

You were going to protest but he turned it into a direction it should not bend.

You yelped from the burning sensation, “Alright, alright I yield...Yes I am. I really don’t have the time to talk here.”

“Why did you run away then?”

“What do you mean why? They’re going to kill me.”

“You’re stronger than all of them. You can fight back.”

“No I can’t, there's fifty of them and....”

You realized it was too late, the guards caught up and have surrounded you two.

You snapped your head to look at the man again, “You bastard. I don't know what you want from me but you did this on purpose.”

He laughs. Angrily, you shake your arms again and managed to shake off his grip on your wrist and you instinctively pull your wrist close to you and rub the pain that he caused.

One of the guards stepped forward but still keeping his distance from you, “(Name) Zenin, under the jurisdiction of Jujutsu Regulations, you are under arrest for killing a sorcerer. We ask that you cooperate and peacefully give yourself in.”

You gritted your teeth then shouted at the guards, "Like hell I'll just give myself in. Let me go or I'll make you guys regret it."

“Oh, quite a trouble maker aren’t you,” the man beside you remarks.

"Shut up”, you spat back at him, “I’m not gonna protect you.”

He chuckles, “You don't need to worry about me, show me what you’ve got.”

Without a warning, all fifty-something of them ran to attack you. You closed your eyes and positioned your hands so it forms the shape of a snake.

"Orochi!", you summoned.

Immediately, a giant serpent springs upwards from the ground and the guards starts fighting your Shikigami. It was a close battle, it took a while and you even had to fight some of them with your bare hands but eventually, you and your Shikigami managed to effectively taking out most of the guards while the remaining few, have turned to run away in fear. You pant.

"I didn't want to do this," you mumbled and turned around ready to flee again. However you stopped cold when you heard a familiar voice.

“I see you’ve thrown away your humanity.”

You immediately snapped your head back, "Father?” you called out. The crowd of people at the market have formed a circle around you to watch the commotion. You spot your father step out of the crowd.

"That's right (Name), I am very disappointed with you."

"You have no right to say this to me after treating me like an animal, you only cared about my Jujutsu technique. You didn't care about me."

The pink haired man was still beside you watching the whole show. He seemed amused by the drama.

"I do care about you, you are an important asset to the family. Come back home (Name)," your father tells you.

“That’s right! I’m only an asset to the family.”

Your father's face darkened now, he hates it when you talk back to him.

“Last warning (Name). Come home now. This is an order.”

"Leave me alone or I am going to have to hurt you too!," you snapped back.

“You can’t. You’re still too weak.”

The moment he said this, you motioned for your Shikigami, Orochi, to attack your father. But before it even reaches him, he effortlessly mists it and Orochi disappears into thin air. Despair starts settling in, it's true that you don't really have a chance to defeat your father. He was a well reknown Jujutsu Sorcerer of the era. But you weren't ready to give up yet, there was one more technique that you could use but it was a gamble.

You placed your hands into position.

Fear immediately appears in your father's eyes when he realized what you were about to summon. Mahoraga: a Shikigami that no ten-shadow technique user has ever been able to exorcise. Summoning it meant death.

"With this treasure, I summon.."

"No (Name) are you insane? You'll kill both of us,"

A sadistic smile forms on your face. That's alright, if I’m going down, I’ll drag you down with me.

"Eight Handled Sword....", you trailed off when the pink haired stranger interrupted your summoning by gentling putting his hands on top of yours to signal you to stop. You looked at him confused. However, he wasn't looking at you, he sent a glare in the direction of your father.

“Show’s over. Let’s go,” the pink-haired man announces and grabs your hand and leads you to walk away in the other direction.

“Wait who are you and where are you taking her?”, you heard your father shout.

The man beside you casually lifts up one finger in a jerking motion as if he was slicing something and immediately, you hear screams or horror from the curious crowd that were watching you guys earlier.

You were about to turn your head around to look at what happened but he stops you.

“Don’t look back, there’s no going back now.”

"You killed him?" you gasped.

"Of course."

He said so casually as if he didn't just murder a sorcerer of one of the most famed Zenin family.

"Why—no, how," you asked in disbelief.

A sadistic smile appears on his face, “Does it matter? It's just one more of those annoying Jujutsu Sorcerer dead. They're all trash anyways..”

You didn't disagree. Since you were born with a prized cursed technique, Ten-Shadow Shikigami, you have felt that your family only cared for you because you were an asset to them. You've seen the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers with your own eyes. It was a corrupted world where the strong exploited the weak. It was a world you wanted to run away from. However, you didn't expect to run into this pink-haired stranger who suddenly stepped in to help you. There were a lot of questions on your mind but you felt dazed. Finally, you managed to ask him,

"Who are you and what do you want from me?"

He looks at you, his eyes filled with passion.

“Back there, you really proved yourself. You proved that you have talent, you have the passion, you have what it takes! I want you to wreck havoc with me. I am Sukuna and I will be the King of Curses while I want you to be my Queen of Curses. And together let’s turn the jujutsu world upside down!”

His hand was still holding yours to lead you somewhere. You didn't answer him right away but his invitation seemed to have ignited something within you because you could feel a rush of adrenaline. A rush of excitement. Perhaps this wasn't too bad. You've never felt what true love is. Your family never loved you. But this stranger — no, this man who calls himself Sukuna — holding your hands and promising you to destroy those Jujutsu Sorcerers that you've learned to hate. You didn't mind it.

It felt right. And it felt nicer than anything anyone has done for you. Because for once, someone understood you.

[script-nef]

Tokyo to France

Category: fluff

1.6k words; Office date [1/6]

Gojou Satoru is many things. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, an official title which is proven often to be true; humanity's ray of light in the fight against cursed spirits—see the "strongest sorcerer" bit; a teacher at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu Specialty High School even though most, if not all, of the Sorcerers Exclusive don't really approve of him; and a total bother. 

He has an aloof and laid-back aura, indicating he doesn’t really care about much other than his missions and his occupation as a teacher. He’s whimsical and spontaneous, sometimes selfish in the extreme, putting his desires—like his all-too-often snack breaks—first ahead of anything, except for critical situations. And even then he might still not come. Add his total disregard for higher-ups who pretend to see the “bigger picture”, and there’s a lot of reasons why everyone he’s ever met—well, most of everyone since the newest kid Itadori is yet to experience the full "Gojou's shitty antics" ride just yet but it'll come soon, you can tell—are often annoyed by him.

And the one person who experiences this more than anyone is you, who's currently suffering under his relentless chatter after another successful mission. He always does this, like you’re the only person in the world he can talk to (read: bother).

You don't have anything specific against the man, he’s usually a good friend and a welcomed fellow sweets enthusiast, it's just that you're currently behind on your assigned paperwork and he's a great distraction. His tales are often laced with humour and he has a natural knack for storytelling. The fact that Gojou has a nice, soothing voice which beckons for your attention is also a factor. If you didn't have work you'd be fully invested in his recount but as previously discussed, he has shitty antics and one of those is not particularly caring about whether the other person is busy or not. 

He keeps talking and words like “egg tart”, “Shibuya” and “internationally famous” slip through your defence, forcing your brain to block out the lengthy paragraphs on the report and enticing you to listen to him. After a while, you decide that this is getting nowhere. You can’t remember the last couple of paragraphs and Gojou is usually relentless, but you can hear his voice weakening just a bit as you pretend to ignore him. 

Resigning yourself from the work and leaning back onto the chair, you make pseudo-eye contact with him. He seems to brighten up just a bit when you do so, the strength of his voice returning. That makes a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. You'll just have to pull an all-nighter after your dinner with Ken-chan. 

Gojou always has great stories about his trips everywhere, both in Japan and overseas. Having a teleportation skill is incredibly useful, you realise with envy. If only I had his inherited techniques is a thought which pervades your mind often. 

"And I was so close to getting the egg tart but the person in front of me bought the last one! I waited for an hour! For nothing!" The story is topped off with a small pout as he slouches on the chair, chin sitting on the backrest. You laugh, amused at the sudden change of mood. Only he could go from happy and light-hearted to gloomy and dejected in a breath, jokingly or not.

An easy conversation flows between the two of you as you finally disregard your work, chin resting on your palm and eyes crinkling with laughter. 

It’s nice like this. He’s been coming around the office more lately, sometimes armed with sweets and sometimes with an agenda to whisk your time away for his use because he’s bored. It’s mostly fine because a person to talk to is welcomed after a couple of hours by yourself, staring at lit screens until you can feel your eyes die off. You once got a scare because everything had a weird white outline when you finally diverted your eyes from the screen. In a sense, he was keeping your sight safe. He smiled when you said that, replying “Glad I can be of service!” before rattling off another description of a strawberry cheesecake he found in Belgium.

“It must be so nice, being able to teleport places. It takes me so much time just to travel within Japan, honestly such a bother. And I can’t really go overseas either with so many tasks to do with all the cursed spirits running around.” Sighing, you slouch on the desk and bury your face in your arms, missing how Gojou’s lips immediately quirk up.

“I can take you there, you know.” Your head shoots up at that, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can take you anywhere. How about France? We’ll be there in the blink of an eye. We can spend a couple of hours there, eat as many pastries as we want to and just snap right back here. What do you say?” His foot taps on the ground repeatedly, like he’s nervous or agitated. Is he in a hurry or something?

Well, it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. The offer sounds nice. Really, really nice. 

It’s been a while since you had a break. Not like you can take a long one since cursed spirits are unpredictable in their appearances and need constant attention so that civilian casualties don’t occur. Which means the workflow never stops coming. A trip to pastry country sounds amazing.

“Sure, that sounds good. We need to set up a ti—”

“Gojou-sensei!”

The door slams open, the sound echoing through the hallway and the office. Gojou’s new student, Itadori Yuuji, leans on the door while gasping for breaths. 

“Hey, Yuuji! What’s the rush?” 

“We’re supposed to be training! I was waiting in the room for the past 10 minutes!” A quick glance at the clock indicates 6:40 and you finally notice the sun setting over the mountains. The fading light paints the room in a golden warmth, which makes you wonder why you didn’t notice how fast time was flying. Probably because you were too invested in your conversation with your friend.

Who is now picking himself up from the chair and putting up theatrics by brushing off non-existent dust from his pants. Small giggles escape at his antics. A glance at Itadori tells you he’s close to dying from either dehydration or exhaustion. He must have run all over the campus trying to find Gojou. You wonder why he doesn’t just use his phone. You do live in the fifth technological age and sort of expect a teenager like him to be able to use one.

“Itadori-kun, do you want some water?” Rising out of your seat, you reach for a cup but Gojou’s hand stops it by covering yours. He twists your hand in his and interlaces his fingers with yours.

“No, it’s fine. We’re going to go now. Think about the time and date, okay? Keep in mind the time difference.” He gives the connected hand a slight jiggle as a farewell, skipping out of the room with a bright “Goodnight!” He’s initiating a lot more physical contact recently. Wonder what that’s about.

Itadori watches the scene unfold from the doorway, jaw slack. His eyes follow Gojou but as soon as he’s out of the room, they snap to you. He stares at you so intensely that it looks like his eyes are going to pop out of its sockets pretty soon. You have no idea why he’s staring at you like this and why he’s not following his teacher. It’s like he’s frozen solid in his spot.

Some—read all—of his students sometimes complain about his walking speed, how he purposefully uses his leg length as an advantage and briskly walks on ahead, leaving them in the dust. Some—again, read: all—of your co-workers said the same thing as well. You asked him about it one day and he replied with a great big smile, “I just do it for fun!” He doesn’t do it to you, though. It’s weird because he does it at least once to everyone else you ever met, even your own brother, despite him being only a few centimetres shorter than Gojou. It apparently played a part in his reluctance to partner up with him. Or just generally hang out with him. You wish he’d give Gojou a chance, he’s not that bad once you get to know him. 

Hm, maybe I just don’t have an interesting enough reaction for him. Am I not interesting? Is it a really weird and backhanded way of telling me I’m boring? The train of thoughts takes off, expanding and multiplying until you realise Itadori is still imitating a befuddled statue.

You stare at him. He stares back. He doesn’t break eye contact. This is a really weird thing to think right now but he would absolutely crush everyone at a staring contest. 

“Itadori-kun? Don’t you need to go?” That seems to startle him out of his stupor. 

“Ah, ye—yes! Sorry for interrupting!” Before you can assure him that there was nothing to interrupt, the poor boy stumbles out of the room and also manages to bonk his head on the door and wall no less than twice. Yelps of “I’m okay!” and “Don’t worry!” followed by his running stops you from checking up on him.

“Man, Gojou must really have his hands full taking care of such a clumsy boy. Thank God Fushiguro is a bit more calmer. Now, where and when should we go… Probably should find out the time difference like he said… Oh! Maybe I can invite Shouko and Ken-chan to come along! They need to get out and have a holiday as well. I’m sure Gojou won’t mind if I invite them.”

Masterlist | Next chapter →

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding VIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI - - - Part VII

He didn’t feel any pain when the saber pierced him

the world exploded and Obi-Wan was relieved. it worked- this must be breaking out

then not Anakin was there and that wasn’t right and he felt like he was burning alive and broken pieces fell but he wasn’t free he closed his eyes had to concentrate

Wake up Break Out Not Real

Woke up but he wasn’t Out and it hurt and Not Real Anakin was yelling at him for being stupid but he was trying to get Out and he had to try harder and went for the knife but it didn’t reach and his arm felt weak and he started to black out

He FORCED himself to WAKE UP and it ALMOST worked he could feel the heat but the rest wasn’t real so he tried again and

“STOP TRYING TO DIE!”

and that was irritating because trying was all he had left anymore he was trying so hard and if he wanted to die then he would have just

There were hands on him and lightning in his chest and this must be

Obi-Wan blinked aWAKE confused-

“He keeps fighting the sedatives! -”

“-Varp! Up the dose, we need to finish the operation before...”

The familiar haziness of a full Bacta Immersion and there was something he was supposed to remember he had to WAKE UP and he struggled and there was yelling from somewhere

Bacta Pod- must be the temple. and he tried to remember how he got there but whatever it was must have been bad because he was VERY high and he had to... had to wake up (but he was awake someone told him he was already awake) and he had to break out (but this was safe safe someone was telling him this was safe so he must have broken out already) and something else not something not he heard cursing and everything got even fuzzier

--

Obi-Wan woke all at once, as though someone had dumped a bucket of water on him. Vokara Che and a Nautolan he vaguely recognized were hovering over him, watching him with unnerving intensity.

He shifted slightly under their gaze, and was confused to find himself unable to move any of his limbs.

“We’ve cuffed you to the bed,” Healer Che told him calmly. “Do you remember why?”

Wake up Break Out Not Real

Obi-Wan thought back furiously. The memories of the last few days came racing back, then the last few years.

He closed his eyes trying to think; his life had been so surreal for so long that it was hard to assess using reason. But something wasn’t adding up. He backtracked to the the last memory he knew to be true.

Luke, of course. Luke was the most real thing in the galaxy. He held Luke for a short time before Owen rightfully kicked him out.

Then...back to his hut, to try and desperately fix whatever was wrong with the vaporators now...The Jawas stopped by...They had spice.

He had thought about purchasing it before, but he knew the Sandcrawler was a safer bet if only for its indifference to him. They wouldn’t judge him or take note of the vulnerability in the way the people of Mos Eisley would. He sat in his hut berating himself before finally giving in.

Then having a wonderful, perfect lucid dream- Cody, and Anakin, and Plo Koon and Bant and Mace and Anakin, his Anakin. But...if it was a dream, why did his attempts to wake fail so miserably? His body felt odd, not really hungry or thirsty. It didn’t make sense. 

Even assuming a distorted sense of time, this was too involved for a hallucination. The fact of the matter was that he was a Jedi Master. Even without the force, if he was lost inside his own mind...he should have been able to get out. 

This...couldn’t be a drug-induced hallucination. Maybe it was at some point but...

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, suddenly struggling for air. Vokara laid a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away.

“Master Kenobi, please try and take deep breaths,” The Nautolon urged in a soothing voice.

He complied, steadying his breathing and finding calm. He had an enemy to fight against and he was done making a fool of himself. 

“I understand now,” Obi-Wan said flatly. “This must have been very entertaining for you.”

“I assure you Master Kenobi,” the Nautolan said frowning, “Your pain is not a source of entertainment for I, nor anyone else in the temple. Quite the opposite- a number of people were stricken at the thought of you joining the force before your time.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You can drop the act, Sidious.” 

There was a pause.

“I’m Master Vokara Che, Chief Healer of the Jedi Temple. I’ve known you since you were a crecheling,” she responded carefully. “This is Master Sife Aerdo, they’re one of our best soul healers. Neither of us are putting on an act, nor are we here to harm you. Is there something we can do to convince you of our identities?”

Obi-Wan glared at her, before turning to look straight at the ceiling.

“Vokara Che is dead, along with everyone else. I assume my mental defenses weakened after I drugged myself; you must have been besides yourself with glee to find me in such a state. I hope you’ve had your fun watching me run around in your Sith mindtrap, because its over. Torture me all you want, parade as many ghosts in front of me as you desire, you know I have nothing useful to tell you. And you’ve already destroyed everyone who you could possibly use as leverage against me, so I have no motivation to allow you a shred more entertainment. You can try and turn me if you wish, but honestly, what could you possibly put me through that you haven’t already?”

Master Aerdo tried to catch Obi-Wan’s eyes, “Master Kenobi, I understand you had a terrible vision of some kind. I am not denying how it has impacted you. But I ask you to take a chance to see for yourself that those you fear dead are still here, and they still care for you. I’ve had a look at your shields and I’m concerned by how fully you’ve blocked yourself off from the force. I understand you may have done this in an attempt at defense, but-”

Obi-Wan let out a snort, responding snidely, “You’re going to have to do better if you want to get any further into my mind, Emperor Palpatine”

And at that, he closed his eyes, sinking deep within. His weakness had cost him Luke but there was still a chance that Leia was safe with Bail and Breha.

(don’t think too hard about Luke you’ll lose what strength you have left)

He might not be able to escape, but he could raise his shields even higher, cutting himself off further from his surroundings.

If Palpatine wanted his attention he would just have to torture him like a decent person. 

Part IX

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid (Part 2)

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

Notes: Violence, blood, gore, sexual inneundos

I didn't make a taglist for this story but I know @teamplutoforlife wanted to be tagged <3 And thank you @cheshirevalentine for editing

Part 1

Remus was falling, twisting onto his back as he plummeted towards the ground, the buildings around him nothing but a blur as he flew past. He could faintly hear the construction on the ground over the pounding of his own heart and the howling of the wind rushing past him, barely hearing the alarmed shouts of the workers watching him fall.

Virgil was nothing but a speck in the distance now, perched on the edge of the roof. Lifeless white eyes watched him fall, unfeeling and still.

Pain exploded in Remus’s back as he slammed into something sharp, legs hitting the ground when he finally stopped falling. He could just barely make out the rusty, blood stained spike in front of him, poking through his chest from his back where he'd fallen, blood pooling around the wound and into his suit.

-

“Hey.”

Remus jumped so hard he nearly fell off the roof, scrambling to his feet and reaching for his gun as he whirled around to face whoever the fuck was stupid enough to sneak up on him.

Spiderman was perched beside him, apparently fine after his near death experience last night, and holding… a pizza box?

“Hey,” Remus said carefully. “What the fuck?”

Spiderman shrugged and held out the box in his hand. “I have pizza. You asked for pizza.”

Remus stared for a moment, frozen where he stood with his hand hovering over his gun, trying to figure out if this was a joke. “You… actually brought it?”

“Yeah?” Spiderman said, like he didn’t understand how this was in any way strange. “Oh did you… were you joking? Did you not actually want it, or—”

“No, I did.” Remus stayed right where he was. What the hell was this? Was this a prank? Was he being pranked?

“Then… here,” Spiderman said. He held out the pizza box, close enough for Remus to cautiously take. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just got cheese. But cheese is good. Everyone likes cheese.”

Holy shit. Spiderman was a dweeb.

Remus carefully opened the pizza box, and when there wasn’t a bomb or some kind of spider-themed booby trap inside, just a freshly baked cheese pizza from some local place he’d vaguely heard of, Remus let his shoulders relax and barked out a laugh.

“Well shit,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, Webs.”

Spidey was shuffling a bit, looking ridiculously awkward, and Remus was suddenly reminded that they were both just… people under their masks. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

Remus hesitated, because he hadn’t been kidding about Spiderman owing him a pizza he just… hadn’t actually expected him to follow through. There was no way Remus was eating all of it on his own, he barely ate much as it was.

“Do you, like…” he paused, wondering if this was going to get him punched or laughed at. “Do you want a slice?”

Spiderman actually startled, like him being asked to lunch was just as rare as Remus asking someone to lunch. Jeez, he’d have figured people begged Spiderman to eat with them all the time.

“I, uh… I bought it for you, so—”

“Yeah, and I’m offering. Christ, do you want some pizza or not?”

Spidey still hesitated, and while it was annoying as hell Remus supposed he’d be a hypocrite to judge when he’d been half convinced there was a bomb in the pizza box two minutes ago.

Well, it wasn’t like it would have been the first time.

“Uh, sure,” Spiderman said, still visibly wary. “Thank you.”

Remus ignored him in favor of opening the pizza box and setting it down, motioning for the vigilante to take as much as he wanted.

It wasn’t until Spidey turned away slightly to hook his fingers under the bottom of his mask that Remus remembered- duh- they both had to pull up their masks to eat.

It wasn’t a problem, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to risk exposing their faces to each other, but Remus really wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. A glance at his jaw might ruin Spiderman’s lunch.

“I’m not looking,” Spidey said, and Remus realized he’d been hesitating for a few too many seconds. “I can go, if you don’t wanna pull up your mask around anyone.”

Remus waved him off, even as he continued to fiddle with the leather. “I’ve got some scars, is all. Like… a lot. People think they’re gross.”

“Oh,” Spiderman said, and then simply shrugged. “That’s fine, I don’t care. Scars happen, dude. I’ve got a bunch.”

Remus still hesitated, a little caught off guard from Spiderman calling him ‘dude' while so nonchalantly eating his pizza just a few feet away, but he quickly pulled himself together and tugged his leather mask up just below his nose.

It was just a few inches of skin, and still enough to reveal a handful of scars littered across his jaw, and the one that stretched down from his cheek.

Spidey barely glanced at him, which Remus guessed he should have seen coming. It’d be a little out of character for New York’s hero to be an asshole about someone’s scars, but you never knew with heroes. Some of them were pretentious assholes.

They ate their pizza like common civilians, perched on their rooftop and watching the people of New York mingle below.

Remus barely ate two slices. He didn’t really eat much to begin with, and it was far more entertaining to watch in silent awe as Spiderman easily finished the rest of the box. The hero was a good two heads shorter than Remus, and looked like he barely weighed a hundred pounds. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d think the guy never ate at all.

“My metabolism is different,” he explained sheepishly when he caught Reus staring. “I eat more than… you know. You. Regular people.”

Remus scoffed, because this was definitely the first time anyone had described him as a ‘regular person’ but he let it slide with an eye roll and a thanks for lunch.

They parted ways, and Remus let himself relax at the thought of having one less enemy roaming New York.

Remus hadn’t meant to start hanging out with Spiderman.

Really, he hadn’t. The impromptu pizza date was supposed to be the end of it, just a slightly awkward peace offering that made it clear neither of them would actively try to kill each other in the near future.

Remus had saved Spiderman because he was bored, and Spiderman had bought him a pizza. That was all.

But then less than a week later Spiderman had swung (literally) by with takeout- coincidentally from Remus’s favorite place a few blocks away- and Remus hadn’t been able to say no to sharing.

They’d shared a meal together three times in the last two weeks, and Remus was starting to think it wasn’t an accident.

It probably wasn’t helping that Remus had started carrying snacks on him.

Remus wasn’t going to eat them himself, and Spiderman was always complaining about how hungry he was, so he’d just started keeping packets of gummies or granola for when he saw the hero swinging past. Chucking them at his head was good target practice, anyway.

That didn’t mean they were friends. Remus didn’t have friends, because being friends with Deadpool was possibly the dumbest idea anyone could ever have.

Remus had seen what happens when people get close to him. He wasn’t going to go through that again.

Apparently, Spiderman had other ideas.

It had been just another fight that Remus had happened to run into, watching for a moment as Spiderman took down what was probably his third armed robbery of the day.

He knew he probably could have just continued on his way and gotten lunch, but there were five of them, all armed, and Remus didn’t feel great about those odds despite Spidey’s reputation.

So Remus had decided to return the favor, Spiderman had introduced himself by butting into Deadpool's fight after all, and stepped in to finish the job twice as fast.

And it had gone fine. Spiderman had greeted him with stupidly cheeky finger guns and unfortunately insisted they keep all of them alive, which wasn’t Remus’s specialty but he’d manage.

It had been easy, some druggie civilians no match for New York’s hero and the merc with a mouth, three of them encased in webbing within two minutes, another on the ground with a bullet in his knee.

It had been fine, until Remus was shot in the chest.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t a big deal. He was shot in the chest all the time. It’d be a hassle if he didn’t get the bullet out before his skin healed around it, but it wasn’t like he could die.

It occurred to him a bit too late that he had forgotten to tell Spiderman that.

“No!”

The raw panic and emotion In Spidey’s voice caught Remus off guard as he stumbled backwards, pain he was unfortunately used to by now exploding in his chest as the bullet met its mark. There had been a fifth goon, hiding out and biding his time, which would have been a great plan if it didn’t end with a face of webs and a swift punch to the temple.

Remus lowered himself to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, dark crimson blood pooling around his hand and flooding through his fingers as he clutched the wound.

Spiderman was rushing over, and Remus could practically feel the worry behind that lifeless mask. He skidded to a stop and dropped to a crouch, hands hovering, frantic and unsure.

And maybe Remus was just an asshole, but this was fucking hilarious.

“Deadpool?” Spidey called, the vigilante leaning over him as Remus dropped to lay on his back. “Jesus- hang in there okay? You’ll be fine.”

Remus forced himself to cough, wet and ragged, biting back a smile. “This is it for me, Webs. I can see the light.”

“Deadpool shut the fuck up!”

“Everything’s getting dark—”

“I said shut up,” Spiderman snapped, and Remus gasped involuntarily, arching his back when gloved hands pressed down on the wound. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re… just- just stay awake, okay? Don’t close your eyes.”

Remus coughed again to hide a smile, blood splattering his chin, closing his eyes anyway and letting his head fall back on the concrete. He stopped listening to Spidey’s rambling, committing to the bit of playing dead- very obviously playing dead, for the record. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and everything, waiting for Spiderman to catch on and tell him off.

“No!” Except Spidey still sounded genuinely distressed, only pressing harder on the wound. “No, no, no! Deadpool! Wake up!”

Well. This wasn’t any fun if Spiderman was too panicked to even pay attention. He sighed, opening his eyes again to sit up slightly and whack the vigilante’s shoulder.

“I can’t die, stupid,” he said, grinning when Spiderman scrambled back. “Cut it out. I’ve just gotta get the bullet out so it doesn’t heal around it. Those things hurt like a bitch, so—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, because there were lots of things wrong with him and he had a list at the ready. But he didn’t get the chance because suddenly Spidey was throwing himself forward, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him close, probably getting blood all over his suit.

Haha, what the fuck?

“You’re such a bitch,” Spiderman said, muffled since his face was practically buried in Remus’s shoulder. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Aww, were you worried about me?” Remus asked, burying his shock. “That’s so sweet, Spidey.”

“Shut the hell up,” Spiderman growled. “I thought you were going to die.”

“You were so worried! It was so cute, oh my god!”

Spiderman finally pulled back, only to rear back and punch Remus square in the shoulder. Hard.

Remus barked out a laugh, now nursing two injuries. “Fucking- ow. I still feel pain.”

“Sucks.”

Remus crossed his arms, wincing when it pulled at the bullet wound still in his chest. “Rude.”

“I’m rude?” Spiderman asked, incredulous. “You thought it would be funny to play dead!”

“To be fair,” Remus argued. “It was funny.”

“No it wasn’t!”

Remus shrugged, already turning his attention to the bullet in his chest. “If you had known it would be funny.”

“Well I didn’t,” he said, the mask’s white eyes glued to Remus’s hands. “I thought you were dying.”

“I can’t die,” Remus said. “That’s not a joke, Webs. I don’t just regenerate fast, I can’t be killed.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

Remus shrugged, a little put off because this was not how he’d expected this to go. Damn Spiderman and his stupid savior complex.

He turned his attention back to the bullet wound, the pain already faded to a familiar numbness, but two gloved hands grabbed his wrists before he could start digging around for the bullet.

“Here,” he said, obnoxiously soft. “I’ve got it, let me help.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Remus said, tensing against his will at the thought of someone else caring for a wound. “It’s not too deep, I can get it.”

“Are your gloves clean?”

He took a minute to consider that, calculating the swords he’d been holding, the gun he’d reloaded that morning, coming up blank when he tried to think of the last time he’d properly cleaned any of his weapons. Not to mention he had to climb buildings with his hands, lacking Spidey’s abilities to walk up walls and propel himself across the city in seconds.

“Probably,” he lied. “What am I gonna do, get sick?”

Spiderman hesitated. “Do you do that?”

“No.”

“I can still get it,” Spidey said. “Let me help.”

Remus scoffed, trying to cover up his own uneasiness. “You wanna stick your hand in there? You know it’s gross, right?”

“I know how to remove a bullet, Deadpool,” Spiderman said. “I’ve gotten shot before, I can get it.”

There was no reason not to drop his arms and let Spiderman do what he wanted. The asshole was stubborn, but he obviously meant well. With how shaky Remus’s hands were, Spidey getting the bullet out would probably be quicker anyway.

And he was the city’s hero. He’d made it clear he didn’t mean Deadpool any harm, especially not when the Merc had so graciously dropped in to save his ass today.

Remus didn’t know why it was so hard to just relax.

“This is dumb,” he said, wondering if he could annoy Spidey into giving up. “I can handle it fine.”

“I know,” the vigilante said. “But I want to help. It’s like...returning the favor or whatever.”

Remus sighed, a little shaky now, but reluctantly nodded. The longer they argued, the faster the skin would heal over the bullet still lodged in his chest, and Remus would really like to avoid that happening. Again.

“Fine,” he growled. “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

Under the mask, Remus was sure Spiderman was smirking at him. “Look who’s talking.”

Remus hadn’t expected Spiderman to be so gentle. He was digging a bullet wound out of Deadpool’s chest, there wasn’t really a way to make this a pleasant experience, but Spidey was taking his time, moving carefully as he dug into the wound.

“Could you hurry up?” Remus growled, teeth clenched. This would have been over in seconds if he was doing it himself. It was so much easier to just stick his hand in the wound, dig around for a second, and rip the bullet out. “I’m not exactly a fan of having someone else’s fingers in my chest.”

Spiderman didn’t even spare him a glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I got shot,” Remus snapped. “We’re well past that.”

Spidey didn’t respond after that and Remus for once stayed quiet to let him concentrate, breathing heavily to try to ignore the panic that came with being vulnerable like this. The vigilante couldn’t kill him, but he sure as hell could cause him a shit ton of pain.

But he wouldn’t. Remus had to keep reminding himself that he wouldn’t. Spiderman was insufferably good- he wouldn’t kick someone while they were down.

Eventually Spiderman’s fingers found the bullet and Remus gasped, forcing himself to shove the pain away and make a lewd sounding moan when Spidey’s fingers left the wound.

“Jesus,” Spiderman muttered, and Remus laughed when he tossed the bullet dripping in dark blood to the side. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Remus said, and he was. Physically at least. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a civil conversation with someone, let alone had someone willing to help patch him up. “See? All good. It’s already healing itself.”

True to his word, Remus’s chest was fusing itself back together, skin closing up over the still bleeding wound, the rest of the pain fading to a background throb. It’d be like nothing ever happened in ten minutes.

“Holy shit,” Spiderman muttered, leaning in close to watch. Remus tensed uncomfortably. “That’s...fucking wild.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Remus brushed it off, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the way Spidey moved to try and help. “Anyways. Are there any more fights you need me to hold your hand through, or can I go take a nap?”

“Oh please,” Spidey scoffed. “I was fine. All you did was get in the way and get shot.”

“I saved your ass,” Remus retorted, smiling behind the leather mask. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me, Webs.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Spiderman mumbled, but Remus was willing to bet money he was smiling too. “Go take your nap, Deadpool.”

Remus gave a mock salute, sheathing his sword and turning away from the remnants of the battle and starting for his apartment.

Maybe Spidey wasn’t so bad after all.

[windless-hurricane]

Sparks

Chapter Four: A World Where We Can Grow Old

A Reiner x Reader x (Eventual) Jean Fanfic

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

SUMMARY: After the fall of Shiganshina, you joined the military along with your brother. You had hoped to bring peace to the world by doing so, but the world was a cruel place. You seemed to lose more than you gained, but there was always someone - someone who made losing just a bit…easier. You hoped you could keep them forever, but was there a guarantee in this world?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s the fourth chapter! While things are a bit slow right now, the story’s really going to pick up after this chapter!

WARNINGS (for entire series): Language, explicit violence, talks of death, suicide, trauma, and mental illness, graphic scenes involving blood and/or death, and sexuality.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

TAGLIST: @lovethemilkteasis @grayxblaze @theyoungblood13 @flowersgirl02 @noodlenerd101 @hanabihwa @drowned-pathetic-rat @bestgirlb @bleepop @miinnttyy @1-800-thanos @lovelime @usernamehere91

SPARKS MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

You and your brother stood beside each other as a stream of smoke poured into the sky. You wondered where it came from, how it got there, why it was there, and your questions were answered once a colossal, red hand slung itself over the wall and grabbed onto it.

You flinched uneasily as your eyes widened in fear.

What’s happening? What’s going on? What is that? Is that… Is that a-

Then, a large, skinless face peeked over, its teeth clenching and its gaze terrifying.

It was. It was a Titan, but how...how could it be that big? It was impossible.

Your body trembled as you reached for Viktor's hand. He met you in the middle, gripping your hand back tightly. You could feel the heat and sweat from his skin, showing just how mortified he was.

“V-Vik-tor, I…” you stuttered, but you couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Your mind was going wild and you could feel your heart clenching in your chest.

What-what do we do? Where’s the Garrison Regiment? Where’s Jannick? Where’s dad?

Anybody?

Then, a sudden force shoved you to the ground as the Titan kicked through the wall, sending chunks of it flying.

People screamed, pushed past each other, and ran for whatever time was left of their lives. However, you couldn’t. You were frozen.

Everything was a blur and your ears filled with static.

What should I do?

However, you didn’t have time to ponder that question as a boulder headed straight for you.

This is it. I’m gonna die.

“(Y/N)! Move! (Y/N)!”

__________________________________________

“(Y/N)!”

You gasped yourself awake, sitting up in a panic.

You were panting heavily with sweat dripping down your forehead. You barely managed to wipe it away with your shaky hand. Matter of fact, your whole body was shaking.

“Are you okay,” Sasha asked, gazing at you with worried eyes. Admittedly, no. Your heart was still beating out of its chest and you felt your head begin to pound. However, you couldn’t dwell on something that has already happened. It’s over.

“I’m fine,” you responded, but the hoarseness of your voice didn’t match your words.

“Are you sure,” she pushed. “Because you don’t look like it.” She gestured to your hand and you were surprised to see that you had been clenching your blanket so tightly that the whites of your knuckles were showing. You hadn’t even realized that you were gripping it.

You let go, your knuckle cracking in the process.

“Yeah,” you nodded and you were about to relax until a new form of panic arose within you. “Wait, Sasha. Are we late?”

“Uh, well…” she trailed off. “We’re about to be.” Your eyes widened as you immediately threw yourself off the bed.

“You should’ve said that to begin with,” you exclaimed, shuffling around for your uniform. “We can’t be late for combat training!”

__________________________________________

You and Sasha made a run for the training grounds and were lucky to see that the rest of the cadets were still waiting for Shadis’s instruction.

You sighed a breath of relief as you lined up beside her, not noticing Reiner standing on the other side of you.

He unconsciously looked you over and noticed your disheveled appearance. You had a bad case of bed hair and a few buckles of your uniform had come undone. He also noticed the sheen of sweat covering your face and how you were breathing a little heavier than normal. Either you just woke up late or something else had happened. He wasn’t sure which.

As Shadis made his way up to the speaking platform, all side conversations came to a halt and he turned to face you all with a hard gaze.

“Alright, maggots,” he shouted, making your ears ring. “Today, we are engaging in combat training! While some of you may think this is unnecessary as you obviously can’t use hand-to-hand combat against a Titan...” You and a few cadets snickered. “Shut up!”

You smirked as he continued on. “As I was saying, if you’re lucky enough to make it into the Top 10 and join the Military Police, you won’t be dealing with Titans. You’ll be dealing with people, criminals, thugs. Likewise with the Garrison Regiment. Therefore, it is important to know basic fighting skills and how to defend yourself in any situation… Do your meager minds understand?!”

“Yes, sir,” you all replied in unison.

“Good, now listen for your partners!”

“Sir, if I may ask, why can’t we choose our own partners,” you asked suddenly, causing your peers to gape at you like they did at orientation. However, you were unfazed, even after Shadis shot you the same death glare as before.

“No, you may not ask, Bauer,” Shadis growled and you attempted to suppress your smile. “Now, run laps until I’ve finished. Afterwards, get your ass handed to you by Braun.”

“Yes, sir,” you saluted, shooting a glance at Reiner as he smirked at you. “If he can even beat me,” you countered, speaking so quietly that only Reiner could hear you.

As you jogged past him toward the dirt track, he watched you with amusement.

You certainly weren’t like the other girls in the Training Corps. You somehow managed to be sweet, fiery, and so sure of yourself all at once. You always spoke your mind and were seemingly fearless, choosing to mess with the scariest person there without a care in the world. Finally, you were awfully kind, taking care of your brother whenever you could and indulging in his own mischievousness, even if it meant the both of you potentially getting trouble. He even saw you do the same with Sasha and Eren.

You truly were something else.

He grinned faintly as he found you smirking back at him.

“We’ll see about that, hotshot,” he murmured.

__________________________________________

Once Shadis had finished announcing everyone’s partners, you jogged over to Reiner, panting slightly.

He raised his eyebrows at you as you came to a stop a few feet in front of him.

“How was the jog,” he teased and you scoffed in response.

“Nothing compared to the swimming I had to endure on the first day,” you admitted, clearing your throat.

“Why do you always annoy him when you know full well what he’s going to do?” The question would have sounded condescending coming from anyone else, but you could tell he was more amused than anything.

“I don’t like him,” you stated bluntly. “And…” your eyes began to soften. “I think we ought to have some fun while we’re here.”

“Huh,” he breathed, taken aback by your answer.

Fun? In times like these, he thought to himself.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you chuckled. “Fun? In times like these? I know. The world is so dark these days, but I think we need to be reminded that we’re still alive. We need to laugh, smile, feel happiness. Most importantly, be human and how could we do that if we’re scared or in grief all the time? I still don’t like him, but if you all are entertained along the way, fine by me.”

He gazed at you admirably, unsure of how to process your words. He felt...conflicted more than anything.

“You really are one of a kind, (Y/N),” he commented, his voice coming out smoother than how he felt on the inside.

Your cheeks blushed faintly as you grinned.

“If I didn’t know any better, Reiner, I’d say you were flirting with me rather than trying to fight me,” you cooed and he let out a chuckle through his nose.

“And what if I was,” he suggested with a glint in his eyes.

“I'd still say to fight me.”

You raised your arms in a fighting stance and he quirked his eyebrow at you.

“I haven’t seen a stance like that before,” he observed, putting his own arms up. “Where’d you learn it?”

“Enough talking!”

You charged at Reiner with a plan already in mind.

I’ll go for a punch towards his face. Once he decides to either block it or pull away from it, I’ll sweep his legs right from underneath him.

You went for your punch, but he unexpectedly didn’t do either. He instead grabbed your fist tightly, not allowing you to pull away, and twisted your arm behind your back. He pulled you against him and your face heated up as his chest pressed into you.

“I don’t think you expected that, (Y/N),” he whispered, his breath fanning your cheek. “I thought I wasn’t going to be able to beat you.” You honestly thought so too, but you were overconfident. It made sense that he was able to stop you. He was confident too, but just the right amount. He also knew how to fight.

Although your arm was starting to hurt from his grip, you still smirked with excitement.

“The fight doesn’t end until one of us is pinned down,” you stated, stomping down on his foot.

He groaned as he released his hold on you and you threw your head back, coming into contact with his chin. As a result, he lost his footing and you took the opportunity to crouch down and swipe your leg underneath his. He fell to the ground and you threw yourself on top of him. You bent your right leg at the knee and dug it into his thigh, holding his other leg down in the process. You used your left foot to keep one of his arms down. Then, you pinned his wrist with one of your hands and used the other to keep his head against the ground. You smiled, letting out a quick exhale.

“I pinned you.”

“Let’s make a deal,” and you gaped down at him in surprise. Why did he look and sound so nonchalant despite his position?

“What?”

“Whoever’s pinned down last has to do something for the other,” he explained.

“If you can even-“ Before you could finish, he propped his knee up from under you and your foot slid off his wrist. He gripped you from your collar and threw you over, causing you to land on the opposite side of his head. You went to do a kip up, but he grabbed you by the shoulder of your jacket and dragged you until you were within straddling range. He got on top of you as he smiled faintly.

“That’s what we have to find out.”

After that, you both spent the next half hour pinning each other down until Shadis told everyone to stop.

You gasped for air as you pinned Reiner’s wrists above his head and used your knees to keep his legs in place. He was breathing heavily as well, his stomach on the ground and his cheek pushing against the dirt.

“I-I win,” you announced, tightening your hold on him as a reminder.

“I can see that,” he strained, barely looking at you from the corner of his eye. “You win.”

You sighed in satisfaction and let him go, finally standing up. You wiped excess sweat and dirt off your forehead, watching as he turned over and sat up with a grunt.

“You’re an impressive fighter, (Y/N),” he complimented. “I think you’re as good as Annie.”

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” you admitted. “I haven’t had a fight like that in awhile.”

“So, then,” he started. “What do you want?”

“Huh?” You blushed slightly as you scratched the back of your head. “I haven’t thought that far ahead… What did you even want?”

“I wanted you to answer a question of mine,” he revealed, a darkness creeping on his cheeks.

“Just a question,” you asked in disbelief. “All of that for a question? What is it?”

“Why'd you join the military?”

“That question again? Well, I guess I never answered you to begin with,” you remembered. “Silly, you could’ve just asked me instead of letting me beat you up.”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up again without it seeming weird,” he confessed and you shook your head.

“It wouldn’t have. I like talking to you.”

You extended your hand out to him and the moment his fingers brushed yours, you felt what could only be described as a jolt of electricity running through you and you took a step back.

You looked down at him and he stared back at you with a similar expression - utter confusion.

Did he feel that too?

“Um, sorry,” you apologized, laughing slightly. “It must’ve been static.”

“No worries,” he assured with a chuckle and you stuck your hand out once again.

He took it graciously and thanked you as you hoisted him up. You nodded, gazing at him right after.

“I joined the military because I want to live in a world where the only concern is growing old,” you finally answered. “I don’t want us to worry about walls, Titans, or whatever the hell else could be out there. I just want us to be happy and have the freedom to live our lives to the fullest... Does that...sorta answer your question?”

It did, it really did. So, why did Reiner still feel a pang in his chest? Why was he hoping for a more selfish answer? Why did he want your answer to not be as noble as the one you gave? Why did he want you to be...less human?

In the end, he knew the answers to all these questions. He didn’t want to feel guilty for what he had done and what he was going to do...but everyone was making it extremely difficult. (Y/N) especially.

As you both smiled at each other, one question plagued his mind.

Why were the Devils of Paradis…so human?

[dawsons-justice]

He Promised, You Trusted.

Part Two to “I Promise, You Trust”

A/N: Reader is between 14-17, so this is a Father Figure!Antonio x Reader. No romance, 100% platonic. 

TW: Nothing horribly graphic, some mild angst, but mostly just to lead up to the fluff

Masterlist

It sure was cold outside. Chicago had been cold, but Minnesota somehow was colder. Your aunt had apologized she couldn't pick you up from school but it wasn't really her fault. She had to pick up some extra shifts to keep up with the bills. You're just glad she let you stay with her. 8 months ago, you really had no idea where you would end up.

8 months ago...

Detective Dawson ran off to make some calls, leaving you to your own thoughts. You noticed the worried glances of his coworkers watching you from the unit floor. You didn’t know any of them, they were all sorta intimidating in their own way, well, except for the woman with brown hair, she looked nice. It just felt better to block them out and focus on the mug in your hands. The hot chocolate had gotten cold in the time it took you to process everything and really you haven’t truly processed anything.

Dawson came back in the room, his face muddled with several emotions. There was some stress, determination and anger but you made out the sympathy on his features most of all. Most people don't want sympathy, but you were just glad someone was caring enough to do so. Trailing behind him was another cop, older, you'd seen him before, just didn't know his name.

"You got anyone we can call?" Antonio asks. you had to wrack your brain a bit. It hadn’t occurred to you that this would be important. "I have an aunt. I haven't talked to her in years. My dad and her don't get along."

The two men exchanged a glance. And you understood now. If you didn't find a home yourself, they'd have to put you in a group home. That was not good. You had heard stories, everyone has. Group homes only provide shelter to trouble. If you ended up there who knows what would happen to you after. You hadn’t thought this through, this was a bad idea. In some sort of a desperate plea, you grab the detective’s hand as he’s about the leave with the other guy.

"Wait no no... I can't live in a home. I can't. I'd rather go home to my dad. Please no." Panic evident in your voice. His face softens, kneeling down to your height. He was just going to try to comfort you. You forced yourself to remember whatever he says can’t change the truth. He isn’t the one making the rules. You’re not naive.

"Hey, hey kiddo. Not there yet, let's give your aunt a ring and see if we can get ahold of her. You got a name?" His voice calm, if he was worried you really couldn’t tell now, unlike when he first returned. You gave her name, not knowing anything besides she lived in St. Paul. But they were cops, you figured they could track her down.

The other guy, Voight, left, you heard him call out to someone named Halstead to run your aunt's name. Antonio didn’t move, just kept holding your hand looking around as if he wasn’t. The fact we seemed unbothered by the comforting gesture put you more at ease, yet you still were struggling with this.

"B-but what if she doesn't want me?"

There was a look of disbelief in his face, as if you were made of solid gold. It was fake and you knew it, still, it was comforting. "We're gonna figure it out, ok? I'll tell her myself what a great kid you are."

"I'm sorry."

The detective didn’t have to say anything, but you knew he deflected your apology. Somehow you just knew the minute you said it what his response was going to be. He didn’t feel bothered. And on top of this it was going to work out. He would make sure it worked out.

And it did. Given the explanation of the situation, your Aunt was happy to take you in. Antonio pulled some strings and you spent one night with his colleague Kim Burgess (the woman with the brown hair) before your aunt took over custody. In less than 48 hours you were on your way to Minnesota with a bag you packed and your dad had no clue. For once you knew there was at least one person who was worth trusting in this world.

The snow crunched below your feet. It was only another mile or so to your aunt’s place. The roads were pretty clear. Much of the snow had been packed down for days, but a recent heatwave melted and refroze the roads to solid ice. The deceiving snow was only an inch or two thick on top of the slick icy layer beneath. So, when you hear tires squeal, it is not in any way surprising. You were learning to drive yourself; ice roads were something that even your aunt had trouble managing let alone teach you how to navigate. You had respect for anyone who was able to successfully manage those roads in two-wheel drive. Whipping around, there’s not a two-ton car sliding towards you as you had expected, planning to dive roll into the snow. There’s a black van with a guy in a ski mask running towards you.

Crap.

Taking advantage of the ice, you threw your backpack at him, hoping he’d lose his balance and walk onto the more slippery road. Yet things do not go to plan as he easily recovers and continues to pursue you, reaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You fought. You screamed, wailed, bit, flailed, kicked and every other defensive action your subconscious could think of. It didn’t work, he was just too much bigger than you. You were thrown into the back of the van.

no no no no no this can’t be happening.

You considered yourself a calm person, but that was before you were tied and gagged in the back of a van. The darkness seemed to only escalate your fears as you had a blank canvas to imagine your worst nightmares becoming reality. "Please, just let me go” you must have said it 40 times before something heavy hit your head.

Things faded in and out. Darkness and light fought a battle, but you could never really tell if you could see or not, it was all just shadows. The nausea was also coming in waves, paired with the throbbing sensation on the back of your head. You had been pistol whipped. But of course, you didn’t know that. The sheer terror of the entire situation still had you disoriented. You couldn’t feel the time pass, most people know what a minute or five minutes feels like, but you couldn’t focus. It was all too much.

 When the van doors slide open you hear the guy who grabbed you talk to whoever was driving. “I still can’t believe this guy.” His gruff voice scoffed, close by.

“Well, he had the money, who are we to judge.”

“Guy? Had someone hired them to take me? Was I about to be sold or something?”

 You’re embarrassed to say the next voice you heard brought you half a millisecond of comfort, it was misplaced. “You had to put a sack over her head?” It was your dad. How? Better question why would he ask that question though he had no emotion in his voice.

The men and your dad talk as you wrestle with this entire shock. Suddenly someone picks you up and carries you over their shoulder. You figured it was guy who grabbed you, but feeling that whoever was holding you gently lowered you to the floor, you made the new assumption it was your dad. The blindfold and gag came off in a quick motion. You were met with the hollow face of your father in some sort of abandoned room. He gave a sickening smile, one that brought no relief with it. “I brought you back sugar!”

“Dad, let me go.”

He nodded and started to undo your restraints. It couldn’t be this easy. Taking a moment, he was preoccupied with removing the duct tape glue from your arms, as if he cared, you jumped up, running across the room to open the metal door, but it was locked.

“Open the door, dad.”

“Y-you’ll just leave.” He whimpered, face looking offended.

This wasn’t your dad. The eyes were too hopeful and the demeanor was too caring. This was you dad having some sort of a mental breakdown. The pieces came together as you watched the tremors in his hands. Not knowing the man in front of you felt more terrifying than the man you ran away from. Before, you knew somewhere buried deep in his subconscious he would never seriously harm you beyond some bruises. But you stared into eyes you didn’t recognize. It was entirely possible he was going to kill you. All of that mess 8 months ago just to end up dying in Chicago and nobody knows about it.

But that’s where you were wrong.

Within a 25 mile radius…

“Detective Dawson,”

The somewhat uncaring police deputy at St. Paul started running down the situation. There wasn’t much to tell. Your backpack was found in a snowbank near some blood in the snow with you nowhere to be found. Your aunt had been adamant that the deputy at the front desk reach Antonio. And of course, the detective roped his unit into the situation. Voight made it a priority. It didn’t take a psychologist to see that Antonio cared about you, he cared about all his teen CIs. They were his secondary kids. He would find you, even if he hadn’t promised you to do so. He promised himself. When word had come in that your dad had been behind the entire situation it was not much of a shock. A man with a past of petty crime and domestic abuse with mental health concerns did seem like a high probability suspect. He had also rented out a storage container on the industrial side of town. Antonio and his team suited up. He was going to end this situation here and now.

 “CHICAGO PD OPEN THE DOOR”

In a frenzied craze, your father throws you to the floor. It would make sense for him to run, but logic wasn’t a key factor right now. His foot goes to your neck and the gun points to your head. The gun must have been on his back, you hadn’t seen it until now.

I don’t want to die.

Not like this.

Not here.

Please no.

Please.

 Bursting through the door you make out several people with weapons drawn on your dad. Light floods the dark room leaving the two of you partially blind, yet the tension still filled the air.

“LET HER GO.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Regardless, your neck was still being crushed. Air was slowly waning from your lungs. And then it wasn’t. In an instant you felt his foot roll out from over you, giving you a chance to scramble away.

“Y/N, Y/N, it’s ok. We’re police.”

And that was likely the only time anyone from your side of town was happy to hear that phrase. But still, you couldn’t quite comprehend it. It was a full mess of tears, screaming, wailing and shaking. You had been mere seconds from death by gun or choking, you couldn’t just suck it up. Not even you were that badass. Nonetheless, the cops weren’t getting anywhere with calming you down.

“Call an ambo.” Calls another voice, a woman. “Tonio, you ok?”

“Yeah” And under normal circumstances you would have connected the dots, but as it has already been overly reiterated, you were not stable right now. The only thing you could register was the familiar hand on top of yours gently squeezing your arm below.

“Shhh shhh, it’s ok kiddo, we got you. He’s gone.”

Hold it, you know that voice.

And what would you know, you finally grasped it. Staring down at you is Detective Dawson, once again saving your neck, literally. It was probably against some rule, but you just buried your head in his shoulder trying to block out everything outside. He let it slide, just holding you there, seemingly not in any rush to move you till the paramedics arrived. In time you realized the other officer trying to calm you down had been Burgess, but you just hadn’t recognized her. You’re in pain, but not horrendous amounts, must be the adrenaline. Regardless, Antonio calls another officer, Atwater, to carry you outside to the ambulance. Before you know it, the ambo is driving away from the scene to Chicago Med, leaving the Intelligence Unit to deal with the aftermath including Dawson.

Sitting in the ER, you wait for test results to return on your head scan. More had happened in the last 12 hours than in the last 8 months. You realized how much you liked the simplicity and (relative) safety of Minnesota, but now you’d at least carry pepper spray. You’re pulled from your thoughts as you see Dawson peak from the side of the curtains. You had not felt too lonely or afraid before given the officers stationed outside your room, but seeing him made you feel better.

“Hey kiddo, how’s the neck?” he smiles, moving into the room slowly as if he was trying not to scare you.

You smile weakly, still exhausted. “Alright, considering.” You noticed tape on the base of his neck on one side extending underneath his shirt where you couldn’t see. “What happened?”

“I might be getting a little long in the tooth for tackling suspects.” And by suspects, you knew he meant your dad. He was the one who got him off you. “Are you ok?” You ask. “All good, just had to get my shoulder checked out.”

“Ok, glad you’re ok.” And you truly were. You would feel awful if you had been the reason he had been seriously injured, especially after you were supposed to be out of his hair.

He nods, fiddling with his hands on the rail at the end of your bed. “Hey, your aunt is on her way to get you, it’s gonna be awhile, but I talked to your doctor and they said they’ll keep you till she arrives to monitor your concussion.”

You nod. “My dad?”

“We got him, he’s going away for a long time.” You notice his lack of enthusiasm in that response, obviously thinking that justice had not been fully served.

“But not forever.” Your voice soft, barely over a whisper.

He shook his head. “Long enough you’re not going to need to worry about him.”

“But you’ll come rescue me again if he tries, right?” You cocked an eyebrow, knowing it wasn’t a promise he could make, but every reassuring thing he told you made you feel better anyways.

“As much as I love the job, I don’t know if I’m going to be on the force in 40 years.”

“Yeah, you might not be able to a shoot a gun while using a walker with tennis balls on the bottom.” The two of you laugh a bit at that visualization.

As you quiet down you notice he looks a bit more serious.“But yeah, I’ll get you.”

Once again, probably against some protocol, but you just had to reach out and hug him burying your face in his leather jacket. He leans forward to pull you in. Something about it was just natural, you knew he’d protect you, you knew that now.

“Thank you so much. I’d be dead.”

“Of course,” He pets your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“T-thank you for caring.” He pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“I checked your record, no priors since you left. Thank you for being worth it.” He smiles.

The two of you sit there for a minute, staring at each other, his hand still the (good) side of your head. You’d never really had a dad moment like this, but if this was the first and last dad moment you ever had, you were ok with it. It was perfect. He stands up, stretching out his back as if he’s about to leave. But instead, he pulls up a chair.

“You don’t mind if I stick around till your aunt arrives do you?”

You gently shook your head. Truth was, you were too afraid to ask him to do so, but of course, somehow, he knew what you needed. So there the two of you sat. Talking about the extremely normal things you had been involved in back in Minnesota. You swear he kept a small smile on his face the entire time. Just happy to see you moving on. It was done.

 When you turned 18, you reached out the Antonio again and asked if he would be willing to meet up for lunch, now that it was “legal” to do so. And now it has become an annual event with occasional bonus trips when you somehow wind up in the Windy City. Your lives may have grown apart in distance but something would always keep the two of you together. He’d always be there for you, and you needed that. Maybe not everyone needs a perfect father figure to survive in the world, but knowing a tough boxing detective would be by your side in one phone call gave you the freedom of safety. Your aunt is an amazing woman, but Antonio Dawson is really the one who you owe everything to.

He promised, you trusted, and it was the first decision of your life that truly mattered.

A/N: I know my presence on this account is sporadic, but I hope some people enjoy this. I’m going to dive into my drafts to work on some of the partially written responses I have for some old requests. (: 

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 2

First part

Next

Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades

Tim wheeled his bike into the alleyway nearby and set the alarm to call him if someone messed with it beyond the normal ‘must touch cool thing’ instincts.

Once he was sure that his bike couldn’t be easily stolen, he turned back to where Marinette was waiting for him.

She struggled with her phone with her gloved fingers. His lips twitched into a grin and he took a moment to school his face into a neutral expression before he started over.

After a second, her head turned to look at him and she flashed a wink, pocketing her phone.

“Cheers!” She chirped, flashing him a wave.

Tim raised an eyebrow at her behind his domino mask. “I hate to break this to you, but that’s a British thing.”

He could only see the top half of her face, and yet he was sure she was pouting. “Kwami, this is Canada French all over again.”

“Canada --?”

“They speak the language all wrong,” she said, as if that made it make more sense.

“I feel like you’re implying that I speak English wrong.”

“Would you rather I say it outright? ‘Cheers’ is a cute word and it sucks that Americans don’t use it.”

“Is this really a hill you’re going to die on?”

“Not just a hill I’m going to die on, it’s the hill.”

He scoffed lightly at that, then turned to get the door for her. The moment they stepped inside they tensed. The silent stares pressed in on them on all sides and he felt Marinette shuffle just the slightest bit closer to him as they took their place in line. The Gothamites continued watching them -- no, they were watching her -- warily, and of course they were (new people in costumes usually meant pain for them).

Well, he could assure them she was safe, at least.

He slowly, carefully, threw his arm over his shoulders. Marinette’s hand twitched towards the arm on instinct to throw him off, but otherwise she didn’t give much indication that what was going on was weird. There were a few more tense seconds before people turned back to what they were doing, visibly relieved by the fact that she was apparently on the good side. Chatter started back up.

Marinette relaxed slightly under his arm and he gave her shoulder a little squeeze in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Kwami, I forgot how much being a new hero sucks.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected her absently.

She rolled her eyes. “At least try and make it sound like you’re not a cop with a bird theme.”

He sputtered, pulling away to cross his arms over his chest. “Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!”

She rested her hands on her hips.

“We break laws!”

She snickered. “So do cops.”

Tim… didn’t have a retort for that. Luckily, he didn’t need to have one, because it was their turn to order. Neither of them hesitated and within a minute they had their drinks and were out the door. They waved for the few cameras pointed at them on their way out, false smiles lighting up their faces, and then quickly ducked back into the alleyway to have their drinks in privacy.

“I’m going to start going places as Red Robin more often since it seems to mean I’ll get served quicker,” joked Tim as he leaned against the wall.

She gave him a puff of laughter and then pulled the bottom of her mask up to take a sip of her caramel frappe. He watched her expression for a moment and then decided that it must have been good because she didn’t instantly recoil. He pulled his coffee to his lips and took a confident gulp, only to choke.

“Shit,” he hissed, fighting the urge to spit it out.

Now that he knew what to look for he could see the pain behind her eyes.

“It’s really bad,” she informed him, purposefully just a moment too late in her warning.

He huffed a little, looking at the cup in his hand. It’s an iced coffee! How do you even mess that up?

There was a beat as the two vigilantes considered their options, before giving each other shrugs and downing their drinks. It may have been bad, but at least it was caffeinated. Marinette, lucky her, had an easier time of it because she’d gotten whipped cream with hers. He was tempted to snatch the drink from her hands to have something to wash down the cup threatening to sully the good name of coffee for him…

But he didn’t have to. She smiled and offered him the last of her whipped cream. He squinted at it suspiciously as if expecting it to be poisoned. After the coffee incident just a moment before he wasn’t about to take any chances.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s actually good, promise.”

“If you’re lying I’m taking back vouching for you to Batman,” he told her.

Her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“I’m serious! If it’s terrible I’m marching back to the Batcave --!”

“All the way back?”

“Yes! All the way back to the Batcave! And I’m going to revoke my vouching!”

“Oh noooooo, not the vouching!” She said, bringing her hands to her cheeks in mock terror. When he continued to ‘glare’ at her she snickered and assured him that: “It’s fine, I’m pretty sure it’s from a can.”

He squinted at her, because canned whipped cream was still far below his normal standard, but he did end up taking it. It was… okay.

“See? Not poisoned.”

“Very suspicious thing to say unprompted but okay.”

She grinned, reaching over to swipe some cream off his nose. “You’ll die in exactly four hours”

He rolled his eyes. “Hm. I guess I should go home and work on making an antidote, then.”

“Yeah. Good luck with that. I’ll see you later.” She leaned forward and pressed her mask to his cheek in a sort of kiss before heading off.

He watched her leave, smiling to himself. He leaned back against his motorbike absently, thinking.

Well, he supposed he didn’t need to watch her to make sure she was safe anymore. She was Ladybug, she could take care of herself in a fight…

But then a thought occurred to him: she couldn’t detect him when he had been watching her earlier. He bit his lip anxiously. Sure, he was trained to evade detection but did he really want to chance it? In a place like Gotham the ability to tell when you’re being watched is an absolute must.

Okay. Fine. He’d watch her just a little longer…

~

Marinette frowned when her phone rang while she was doing some late-night work.

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, M’lady?”

A wide grin stretched across her face and she fell back in her bed. “Chaton! And here I was thinking you would never call!”

Adrien laughed. “Well, our time zones don’t exactly match up and I forgot that your sleep schedule is less of a schedule and more of a suggestion.”

“Fuck you, too, then.”

He laughed and she could hear him shifting around on the other side. She heard him zip something up on the other side and she lit up. “When’re you coming over?” He sighed and that was all it took to let her know that he had bad news. The momentary silence afterwards as he tried to figure out what to say was a good indication, too.

“I can’t, unfortunately. The Son of Hawkmoth moving away right after he gets jailed isn’t a good look. The United States Government isn’t that eager to have me, either.”

She wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Just steal the horse miraculous from Fu and come over illegally.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no, straight up disappearing is even more suspicious, thanks.”

Marinette frowned. She supposed that made sense…

She pulled her cat plush over so she could rest her head against it. “It’s so boring without you.”

“You’re making new friends, right?” He questioned, concerned. “I saw on the news that you’ve met the other vigilantes already.”

“Yeah, I guess… but they clearly don’t trust me.”

“Well, did you trust me when we started out?”

“No…”

“So give them time. They’ll realize you’re the best person on Earth soon enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, obviously. They’d have to be blind not to notice that.”

“Well, one of them is called Batman --.”

“I’m hanging up on you.”

He laughed at her and she smiled as she burrowed into her plush.

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“Anytime. Now, go to sleep.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up on him without promising him anything.

~

He leaned against the concrete of the roof, head on his arms to prevent scratching up his chin as he watched her through the window. He kind of worried about her having the blinds open like that, anyone could look in at her, but at least she closed it at night.

Still, he couldn’t deny that it certainly made things easier for him. She did most things by window light -- to save electricity, he theorized -- so he didn’t have to work all that hard to keep track of her.

Currently, she was working on stitching some pieces of an outfit. Her tongue poked out of her mouth a little when she concentrated, he had learned. A tiny part of him wondered if she did that as Ladybug, too, and he just couldn’t see it under her mask.

He kind of wished he could ask. Maybe one day he would (if they ever got close enough for him to reveal he’d been watching her without her knowledge, of course).

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts, and he groaned to himself as he synced his earbuds and picked up.

“Yeah, B, what do you need?”

~

Listen, Marinette liked her job. She had the privilege of designing most of the outfits she did and that was a lot of fun -- certainly more fun than working solely on commissions -- but… sometimes she just wants to be told what to do. Artist’s Block is real and it fucking sucks.

Thankfully, Gotham gave quite a bit of inspiration. The difference between Gotham and Paris was striking. Paris was pristine; lots of tourists meant keeping the city in a constant state of newness, all bright colors and surfaces so clean you can see your reflection in them. Gotham, on the other hand, felt exceptionally lived in; graffiti, decaying buildings, cracked sidewalks…

She found a nice vantage point that overlooked the city and looked out over the horizon. That was another difference between the two: the height of buildings in Gotham was far more varied than those of Paris. It was more interesting to look at, she thought.

(It had been a point of annoyance at night as she could no longer jump from rooftop to rooftop with ease, but that’s not the point here.)

Maybe she could do something inspired by all the different heights. Audrey would probably like a dress like that.

She smiled walking to a nearby gargoyle. Red graffiti dubbed them Charlie, and who was she to not use his preferred name?

“Hello, Charlie, may I sit on you?” She joked quietly.

Charlie did not answer, not that she really expected him to.

She perched herself on the gargoyle’s back and pulled her sketchbook from a secret pocket in her leather jacket. She hummed tunelessly as she sketched out the shape.

Layers of different lengths -- and different colors, too, of course, she thought as she pulled out some colored pens (what’s the point of different layers if you don’t make it rainbow?) -- and oh it definitely had to trail a little in the back for the drama…

Artist’s block hit her like a too-high wall on patrols as she stared at where the bodice needed to be. What should she do? Obviously it needed to be relatively simple otherwise she risked the dress being an eyesore but…

It was just her luck that the moment she came to a decision about what to do for the bodice and accessories is the moment the first water droplet hit her sketchbook. She pulled her gaze to the sky and noticed the storm cloud overhead.

Shit, it was starting to rain.

She looked back down at her sketchbook, irritation spiking under her skin.

Option one: tough it out and continue drawing so she doesn’t risk forgetting the idea she’d had.

Option two: don’t risk her outfit (or her health, she guessed) and just head inside like a sane person.

… Marinette chose option one. She wouldn’t be herself without the occasional bad decision.

She drew her jacket over her head and hunched over her sketchbook as she continued sketching out her design.

Except, after a few minutes, she didn’t feel the beat of the rain on her jacket. She blinked a few times because she could still hear the rain nearby and she started to wonder if she had died somehow before she caught the sound of someone moving just out of her seeing range.

She turned her head to see a man holding an umbrella over her head, her jacket falling back to rest on her shoulders.

She gave him a once over. It was a little paranoid, she could admit, but she was in Gotham; it paid to be cautious. He was wearing a thick trench coat and gloves, which was a big red flag. He also had open posture -- more open than was natural, actually -- what with his slight slouch and hands spread wide in a somewhat placating gesture. The only good thing was that he was keeping a respectful distance, even standing a bit in the rain in order to avoid crowding her.

… well, he had an umbrella, at least.

She gripped the gargoyle tighter with her legs just in case he decided he wanted to try and push her, then turned to face him more.

“Hi,” she said carefully.

“You know, it’s illegal to be up here,” he said, flashing her an almost blindingly white smile.

She grinned. “You’re breaking the law, too, then.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”

She reached a pinky out and, after a second’s hesitation, he returned the gesture.

Deal made, he wiped some of the water away with gloved fingers and took a seat beside her.

He clearly trusted her more than she trusted him, even allowing his legs to hang over the side of the building. She wondered why, vaguely, but she couldn’t exactly go and ask...

So, instead she smiled and said: “Thanks for the help. Water stains are a bitch to get out of leather.”

“You’re welcome, but I really can’t believe you went out without an umbrella in this city of all places.”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I’m a little new here, to be honest.”

She watched him carefully out of the corner of his eyes. The man frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by her laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m not stupid enough to genuinely tell someone that. I was just going for the Manic Pixie Dream Girl aesthetic.”

His shoulders relaxed in a way that would have been imperceptible if she hadn’t been trained to check body language. She let herself relax her grip on the gargoyle a little as well; he had been concerned about her right then, he was probably pretty safe. Safe enough to not strain her legs too much, at least.

“Well, I do like your aesthetic,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “The Manic Pixie Dream Girl stuff, my outfit, or what I’m drawing?”

“All of it. But mostly the outfit.”

She felt a faint blush rise to her face but she brushed him off with a: “Yeah, thanks, but I’m not about to start taking fashion advice from a guy in a trenchcoat.”

He gasped and brought his free hand to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, this is peak Gotham fashion!”

“It’s shady, that’s what it is.”

“That’s what Gotham fashion is!”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes harder if she tried. And she did try.

Her gaze fell back to her work and she sighed as she pulled out her pens and started working on finishing up her sketch.

“So, what’re you up here for?” She asked because she didn’t want to risk him getting bored and leaving with the umbrella.

“Hm? Oh, I do photography in my spare time. Figured I’d scope out some new areas.”

“Know all the best places in Gotham?”

“You have no idea.” The man flashed her a grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone in person, though, so I figured I’d get some update shots.”

“Well, if we both need to go sightseeing around Gotham for our things, why not do it together?”

He raised an eyebrow at her but she could see the way his lips twitched downwards with concern. “Trust me that much already? We’ve just met.”

“Well, you seem like a nice guy...” She smirked. “And I could totally beat your ass.”

He scoffed and unbuttoned his trenchcoat to prove to her that he did, in fact, have muscles hidden beneath all those layers and she laughed before she noticed the shirt he was wearing.

Holy shit. She’d made that shirt. He was wearing one of her shirts. She could see the gold stitching partially hidden beneath his collar, and fuck maybe she was concerned about all the wrong things.

Her eyes narrowed in on him just slightly. He clearly wasn’t actively hiding the shirt and didn’t seem concerned that he had shown her, which meant he:

a) didn’t know she was MDC,

b) saw her as just another artist,

or c) was showing her on purpose so she could make an informed decision about being his friend.

So… he didn’t seem to be a threat to her.

Maybe she could do some checking up on him, though, just to be safe.

She smiled. “I realize I never got your name. Probably would be a problem if we’re going to be spending more time together from now on.”

He grinned. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to be friends with someone if you don’t even know their name. I’m Tim Drake.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, watching his expression carefully.

He remained impassive. She wasn’t sure what that meant -- or if it meant anything at all, for that matter.

She pulled out her phone and offered it to him, taking the umbrella so he could type his number in with both hands. That done, she stuck the phone back in her pocket and smiled up at him.

“I’m stealing your umbrella, by the way,” she informed him, grip tightening on the handle in case he tried to take it back from her.

He grinned and made no move to do so. “If you must. Can you at least walk me inside the building before you run off with it?”

She giggled. “I guess I can do that, yes.”

~

It had been a long time since Tim had fanboyed this hard.

If he was any younger, he would have fallen back on his bed and squealed like a person in those old movies. As it were, he still wore a dopey smile.

He had MDC’s number! And not her work number, because he’d already had that, this was her real number!

And, even cooler, she might just let him go with her to get inspiration! Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to watch one of their favorite artists do their thing?!

… oh, yeah, also the protection thing, obviously. That was the whole reason he was doing this, after all.

It would be so much easier to protect her if he went out with her on these excursions. Just being around men tended to ward off potential assailants. It was perfect!

Which meant he wouldn’t have any reason to follow her for her own protection anymore…

Wait, what about when she needed to go out for chores like groceries? She’d still need to be safe for that! Gotham is a scary place! What if someone tried to follo -- what if someone tried to mug her or something dangerous like that? No, she still needed his help!

Yeah, no, he has to do this. It’s for her own safety.

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: One more chapter! You guys are a dream, thank you so much for reading ❤️

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, derogatory terms for homosexuality, blood/gore and death/dying

Word Count: 5690

—————————————

Eight: All Die Young

“Um… I think besides everything with Ricky… the night of homecoming was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.”

“With Bradley Lewis’s death.”

“Yeah. I-I mean, it started off as a normal day, a-a great day, actually.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Awaking to a text from Stanley Barber, informing me that he was driving us to school, was a heavenly sight. Almost as heavenly as waking up beside the boy, himself in the near future. Grabbing my phone off its charger, I rolled onto my stomach and texted him back, my feet giddily kicking in the air. It amazed me how he could change my entire demeanor within seconds. I could go from a sniveling baby to a hopping and skipping lovesick fool when it comes to Stan. And I don’t even think he meant to have this much of an effect on me. I wondered if I had the same effect on him? I never really paid much attention to it, just accepted the fact that he would never reciprocate my feelings. Even during that time, I had no idea if we were a couple or just adoring each other. It didn’t matter, though. Stan was finally looking at me the way I wanted him to.

Jacob stared at me with unease as I skipped down the stairs, prancing my way into the kitchen for breakfast. “Mom, (Y/N)’s being weird.” He called out as he opened the front door to leave. Pam hushed him before handing me a plate of food.

“Hush, now, Jacob. Let her be in a good mood for once.”

“For once?” I frowned and sat myself down. Pam smiled over at me and gingerly kissed my forehead as I began eating.

“Yes. For once.”

When I finished eating and readying myself for the day, I received a text message from Stan.

Stan: I’m outside

Me: omw

Pocketing my cell, I called out to my family before stepping outside to see Stan in his car with a grin on his face. “Good morning, lovely!” He called out above his music as I strode up to the vehicle, climbing inside. I gave him my usual greeting before leaning over and kissing his cheek. He chuckled and waited for me to strap myself in before riding down our street. It was clear he was in a good mood, because he let me pick the music for the ride. As Waterloo by ABBA flowed out of the drawn-down car windows, I felt the comforting warmth of his hand latch onto mine. Our combined hands shook to the beat of the music as we happily sang the words to the song. Remember when I said I had only been this happy one other time? This was even better. There were never any consequences to being with Stan, never a dull moment, never a hint of doubt between our bond. I’d never been as close to anyone as I was to him. And now at last, we were even closer in more ways than one.

Stepping onto the school campus, we were no longer strangers. I still walked within my bubble, and I probably always will throughout my life, but from now on there was no need to allow Stan inside. He was planning to be beside me through it all. He wasn’t afraid to be alienated with me any longer, we were to embrace it together. We were going to allow the stares, the whispers, the rumors. Allow them to act as water on a duck’s back. I was proud of him, I was proud of us. Even as I felt the dark brown glare of Ricky Berry trail after the two of us, watching our bashful and lovestruck glances throughout classes, the way we held hands in the halls. I was certain he got the message that I was no longer his, despite the forceful way he claimed me the previous week.

At lunch, I was just about to declare my spot in line when I felt a gentle hold on my arm. Stan, with a warm grin, pulled me away and walked us to an empty table. “Um, Stan, I’d kinda like to eat lunch today.”

“I know, Nugget,” He held up two brown sacks. “I made lunch for the both of us.” The way his grin grew prideful made my heart swell in affection. We sat across from each other as he slid the bag over to me.

“Awe, Stanley, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, though,” He shrugged and watched as I took each item out of the bag and carefully organized them. “So, about homecoming. I was thinking we could make a big deal out of it. If you want to.”

“I totally want to,” I nodded, eyes trained on my task. “What were you planning, beautiful?”

I didn’t miss the bashful blush tinting his cheeks when I snuck a glance up at him. “Uh… Well, I was thinking when I pick you up, we can take, like, a shitload of pictures. Like, just let Aunt Pam go at it. She’ll love it.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“And then after the dance, I wanna take you out to eat.”

“Really? Where to?”

“Nothing too fancy. You don’t like all that. I was driving around yesterday and saw this restaurant that specializes in their pasta,” I suddenly felt the tip of my nose being gently pinched. Looking up, Stan was playfully wiggling my nose with a goofy grin on his face. “I know how much you love pasta.”

“I do,” I laughed and swatted his hand away. “And after that? Are we robbing a bank and driving off into the night?”

“If only,” He wistfully sighed. “But alas, I’m afraid we’ll have to remain trapped within Brownsville until we’re old enough to run away.”

I gave a mischievous smirk. “The entire act of running away is rebellious. Why wait until we’re allowed?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t feel like running away,” We shared a laugh. “But in all seriousness, we go to my house and just chill. We can have a dance contest. Our last was a tie, remember?”

The antsy excitement rushed through my veins the closer the night approached. I was never one for making a scene about school dances, but this time was different. It was my senior year, I had Stan, Ricky was out of the picture. Or at least, he was for the next hour. After lunch, Stan walked me to photography class, the two of us hand-in-hand as we had been for the entire day. Approaching the door, he wished me a good class before leaning in and pecking my lips. Our fingertips lingered as he pulled away and continued to his own class. Feeling my burning cheeks, I turned to go into the room, but an arm blocked my path. “Hey, Zip.”

Inwardly groaning, I looked up at Ricky. His bruises were beginning to fade, the dark ring around his right eye taking its time to heal. I silently hissed at the sight of him. “What.”

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize. Brad talked to me the other day and… made me realize that what I did was really fucked up. Really, babe, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You’re so fucking lucky I haven’t called the police on you, Ricky-”

“Yes, I know,” He sighed, discreetly rolling his eyes. “And I really appreciate it. Gives me a chance to better myself, you know? Help you better yourself. And what better way to make up for what I did than to make homecoming the most magical night for you? Yeah? We still on for tonight?”

My eyes dangerously widened at his hopeful smile, his expression melting under my fiery stare. “Are you kidding me?! Hell no! You think I wanna be anywhere near you?!”

“(Y/N)-”

“Besides, I already have another date.” I shrugged and moved to duck under his arm, but he leaned against the doorframe to decline me access inside. I quickly backed away from him, my fear kicking in at his brash behavior.

“What, Stan The Faggot? You’re really going with that fucking twink when you could be going with me?” He laughed right in my face. I lifted my chin and stepped forward.

“Don’t ever speak about Stanley that way. He’s the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met and is an even better boyfriend than you’ll ever be to anyone-”

“Boyfriend?!” He cackled. “I knew it. How could I not? It was so obvious! You’re fucking crazy.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You don’t see the way he dresses? He’s fucking weird, (Y/N). He’s a goddamn drug dealer. What is he gonna offer you? Huh? Free weed? Babe… Come on, you are so better off with me.”

He lightly shook his head with a smile of disbelief as I took out my phone. “I just remembered. You’re not supposed to be near me, talking to me, or even looking at me. I think Jacob would love to hear about this-”

“Fuck you.” Ricky hissed before stomping away, leaving me in an empty hallway that was filled with the ringing of the tardy bell not too long afterwards. At that point, I was just about sick of guys. I was irritable during gym class, running off my anger and letting it steam off my shoulders. When the coach told us we could stop, I took greedy gulps of air and trudged to a nearby bench to rest. As I plopped down, I noticed Syd and Dina walking together to the opposite side of the field. It was good to know they were to finally talk everything out. Now for her and Stan to make up…

I was thankful for a split second for the shadow that casted over the burning sun raining down on me, but huffed upon seeing who it was. Some guy from my math class stood before me. He was shirtless, displaying his six-pack and chest glistening with sweat. He beamed down at me with a suave smirk. “Hey, Zip.”

“Hey.”

“So… I know you and Ricky are… you know. So, since the dance is tonight-”

“Sorry, I already have a date.”

“Right,” He nodded slowly, beginning to back away. “I should’ve known. No worries.”

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

“And he just walked away?!” Stan laughed on our drive home from school. My hold on his hand tightened as I tried to hold in my own laugh.

“No, he ran away!” I snorted, triggering the increase of his laughter.

“What is that, the fourth guy today?”

“Don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes as he pulled up to my house. Unbuckling myself, I froze at Stan’s intentuous stare. He reached over and grabbed my hand again, raising it to his lips.

“I expect you to dazzle everyone like you usually do.” He kissed my knuckles.

My breath hitched. “Of course. And I expect you to do better than me, like you usually do. What time should I be ready?”

“I’m picking you up at eight. On the dot.”

“On the dot, got it.” I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He returned it and tilted his head to try and deepen it, but I pulled away with a giggle. Stan watched in awe as I got out of the car, snatching up my backpack as I did. Waving him off, I turned and headed inside my house.

I had to look perfect. Not just for Stan, but for me. This was a new era of myself, I had shedded my skin and materialized as something beautiful. I had to showcase just how beautiful I’ve become. So, after my shower, I struck up a playlist and dolled myself up. Starting off with my hair, I simply pinned it up with white butterfly hair clips. My makeup was nothing special, other than the baby pink eyeshadow and the small application of glitter over it. To seal up the look, I added cherry lip gloss to give my lips a bit of a pop. I hoped Stan would appreciate it. My face burned at the thought of him tasting the cherry on my mouth. Backing away from my mirror before I exploded, I entered my closet. My dress was something I never thought I would ever wear. It matched my makeup in baby pink. An off-the-shoulder look that hugged my torso and flared out to the floor. I managed to zip it up myself before slipping on a pair of white heels. Turning to my reflection, I let out a breath.

I had never looked any more beautiful, I think. I remember gazing at my parents’ wedding photo as a child and wishing to look as beautiful as my mother one day. I wondered if she was looking down at me, proud of who I had become at that point. Gazing fondly down at the ring on my pinky, I blinked back the stinging of my tears.

Yeah, she’s proud.

An eager three knocks sounded at my door and I hurried to open it. Pam immediately teared up the moment her eyes settled on me, camera ready in her hand. “Oh, my baby… You look so gorgeous! Just like your mom!” She gushed. I could only chuckle as she took multiple pictures of me. Hearing a taunting laugh, I looked down the hall to see Jacob leaning against the wall, silently mocking his mother’s excitement. I kindly showed my middle finger to him, much to Pam’s disappointment. “Oh, come on. Now it’s in the picture! Jake, leave your sister alone!”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He feigned innocence and batted his eyelashes at me. I playfully sneered at him before David’s voice sounded from downstairs.

“(Y/N), Stan is here!”

Grabbing my phone, I checked the time. Eight o’clock. On the dot. That punctual bastard. Clutching my phone in my hand, I nervously made my way to the top of the stairs. Everyone was waiting for me at the bottom, including Stan. God, he looked so cute. He was wearing his baby blue suit, some sort of black and tan shirt beneath that oddly went well with the suit. Leave it to Stan to defy the laws of fashion. I could tell he paid extra care to his hair, the way it was styled perfectly for his curls to sit off to the left side of his forehead. I was sure I was grinning like a maniac as I descended the stairs, but Stan’s expression was the reason I was grinning. He looked absolutely astonished and at a loss for words. His jaw was dropped and eyes were bulging as he watched me walk closer to him. When I quietly greeted him, he couldn’t even respond. Great job, (Y/N), you broke him.

“How’d I do?” I whispered and hooked arms with him. At my touch, he snapped out of his haze and beamed at me.

“You certainly did not disappoint, lovely.”

“Awe, and you aren’t looking too bad yourself, beautiful.”

Pam squealed from the sidelines before rushing over to us. “Stanley, doesn’t she look stunning?”

“Absolutely, Aunt Pam.” He grinned at the older woman as she began taking photo after photo of us. We decided to indulge her and pose for each one. All the while, I felt a red hot glare from the side. Glancing its way, I noticed Jacob fuming at the sight of Stan and I hugged up on each other. His Big Brother Mode was going to activate the second Pam was done with us. To my horror, she finished sooner than I thought. As she excitedly showed our photos to David, I watched as Jacob slowly approached us. Just as he opened his mouth to spit some sort of threat towards the poor, unsuspecting Stan, I turned to the front door and flung it open.

“Well, we really have to go! We’re already late, you know.” I chuckled and gently shoved Stan out of the house.

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Pam called out after us. “You two be careful out there! And have fun!”

“And (Y/N)-” Jacob began to add in a warning, but I waved him off, mouthing an ‘I know’ as Stan scrambled to hold the car door open for me. I quietly thanked him and climbed inside. The car ride to the dance was very pleasant. The hum of soft rock music fit the mood of our night as we quietly sang along. Stan found a parking spot rather quickly and leaned back in his seat after turning the car off. Bringing the visor down, I checked myself in the mirror, gently running my fingers over my white gold hoop earrings gifted to me by my dad for my previous birthday. They were pretty expensive and I hardly wore them, so why not? Hearing a click, I turned to see Stan lighting up a joint. After he took a hit, he looked my way and smiled, offering it to me. Without any hesitation, I joined him in a quick session. As I took my third hit, I felt his eyes on me.

“What?” I raised a brow and exhaled the smoke. His eyes shown in adoration.

“What a sight you are…”

“A sight? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’re sitting in my old-school car, looking like a goddess and smoking a joint. You’re so beautiful… Just perfection.”

“Jeez, maybe I should get dolled up to smoke more often.” I joked and handed it back to him. We shared a chuckle before Stan put the smoke out. He gave me a wink before getting out of the car and rounding it to let me out.

Our highs kicked in the moment we stepped into the gymnasium. Our clammy hands found each other as we walked further in. I let him lead me through the sea of dancing bodies and bouncing balloons, the two of us hitting them out of our way as we ended up near the bleachers. When we stopped, we overlooked the scene before us as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Best theater in town, Stan.”

“Best theater in town, (Y/N),” He looked down at me with furrowed brows. “So, why aren’t you on stage?”

“I don’t perform without my co-star.”

“Well, in that case.” He took hold of both my hands and swung us around. At that, we let loose, broadcasting our best secret dance contest moves to anyone willing to watch. I thought it was perfect. The two outcasts, both outcasts for difference reasons, wildly dancing together away from everyone else. And yet, they were the life of the party. It was meant to be. My feet stung from the stomping and jumping I was doing in my heels, but I couldn’t care less.

“I fucking hate this song!” I joyfully shouted, eliciting a laugh from my date.

“Me, too!” From the sound of our laughter, it was clear the two of us were high. Three songs later, in the middle of my rounds of spinning, I felt Stan’s hands on my waist, attempting to stop me. When I did, my surroundings rotated around me and I leaned into him for support. Looking up, I saw Sydney awkwardly smiling at the both of us.

“Oh! Hey, Syd! I love your dress.” I smiled and gestured to her attire. Her smile widened.

“Thanks, (Y/N), y-you look great.”

“Awe, thanks.” I gushed and bashfully waved her off. My attention turned to Stan, who had a look of indifference on his face, but a hint of pain in his eyes. Sydney noticed it, too, and looked back at me.

“Uh… Can I borrow Stan for a second?”

“Go ahead.” I motioned. Stan stared at me for a second before following Syd onto the bleachers. I suddenly felt very out of place, so I decided to keep my hands busy and get myself some punch. Thankfully, I found Dina there, pouring herself a cup. When she noticed me, she quickly set it back down on the table and reached her arms out for a hug. “Dina, you look so good!”

“Are you kidding me?!” We engulfed each other in a tight hug before pulling away. “You look fucking amazing! You always have to show out, huh?”

“I try…” I lowered my voice. As the two of us talked, lonely guys would come up to us and ask to dance, but we would hold hands and politely decline. After the third walked away, Dina turned to me.

“Hey, so… In detention… The thing that Jenny said about Ricky. Was that true…?” The hesitancy in her voice made me deeply inhale as I nodded in confirmation. Instantly, her eyes welled up with tears as her hands covered her mouth. “(Y/N)... I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would’ve been there for you.”

“No, no, Dina!” I quickly took her hands into mine, my heart wrenching. “It’s okay! I’m okay…”

“You’re okay? H-How are you okay?” She frowned and blinked back her tears. A warm smile twitched its way onto my face.

“Stan… he’s been making everything better…” I admitted. Dina’s face lit up before she hugged me all over again.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! I’m so happy for you! God, you fucking deserve it, girl!” She exclaimed as I hugged back, quietly laughing at her excitement. Our hug was cut short, when Dina caught sight of our dates heading toward us. I turned to them and happily watched as they approached us, their hands lazily clasped together. Sydney held out Stan’s hand over to mine and I gladly took over. “Stan!” Dina grinned at him as he allowed me to lean against his side.

“Dina, you look, um… you look like a Christmas tree.” He awkwardly complimented as I rolled my eyes. Dina looked down at herself.

“Thanks, dude.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded before his eye caught something. “Oh, god. Whitaker’s still watching us.” He sighed. We directed our gaze to our principal, who indeed was standing across the gym, arms folded and a piercing gaze on the four of us.

“It’s probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in his entire life.” Sydney crossed her arms, as well, as we all grinned. Stan leaned forward and placed his other hand over ours as he hummed.

“I don’t know, guys. I mean, we’re wanted criminals. Why are we out here in the open? Exposed. First rule of the heist is split the loot and split the fuck up, right?”

“We don’t have any loot, Stan.” I raised a brow in false confusion as Dina smirked at me.

“Yeah, all we did was disrespect this fine institution.”

“And disrespect ourselves.” Sydney finished, Stan humming again before we all shared a soft laugh. Stan’s smile disappeared as a slow song came on. I barely recognized it, but he sure seemed to know it. His free hand reached up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, no. On principle, I just- I can’t,” He groaned and began to free himself from my grasp. “Sorry, this playlist is all over the map. I’ll- I’ll be back.” He squeezed between Syd and I to leave, but I followed right behind. He was nearly at the DJ table, when I managed to stop his striding.

“Stan! Stan, wait!” I laughed and turned him to me. “Come on, I wanna dance to this.”

“(Y/N), I have to enlighten that poor DJ over there.”

“After this song?” I pouted and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I don’t care about the music. I’ll dance to anything with you.”

“That is a lie, but fine,” He sighed before his hands rested on my waist. Our dance started off with timid shuffling, Stan clearly not used to slow dancing. I chuckled and directed his eyes away from his shoes.

“Stan, it’s just swaying, I promise.” I whispered. He gave me an incredulous look before moving with me to the music. Of course, since it’s Stan, he had to add in a few spins that had us stumbling. We laughed aloud when we almost toppled over, and we earned a few weird stares, but we didn’t give a shit. Just as it seemed we were getting the hang of it, a voice that rang throughout the gym interrupted the song and dance.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr File announced from the stage. “If I may have your attention. Stop talking. Look up here please.”

“Thank god, they stopped the song.” Stan whispered in my ear as we turned to the stage. I playfully and gently hit his chest as our teacher continued.

“It is my privilege to introduce your homecoming king and queen, Jeff Butters and Julie Frasheski!”

As the homecoming royalty hopped on stage, we all clapped and cheered for them, Stan and I exchanging looks that said ‘I have no idea who these people are’. “What up, Westinghouse!” Jeff exclaimed into the microphone, his queen by his side, the both of them wearing sashes and crowns. “Yeah! Where my boys at? Whoo! Where do I begin? I wanna thank my mom for meeting my dad-”

His amusing speech was cut off by Bradley Lewis running onstage and clamping his hand over the mic. “Listen up!” He yelled as the feedback screeched. Our smiles dropped as he swayed, clearly drunk. As Mr File tried to take the mic from him, he thrashed about and moved away. “Give me a second! I would like to take this moment to talk about something very important that affects everyone here.”

“What the fuck…?” I muttered and watched as he turned to the middle of the crowd.

“Sydney Novak!” His exclamation sent a flinch through Stan and I, and I felt him tense under my hold on his arm. “Hey, Sydney! Raise your hand! Raise your hand! Give a wave so everybody can see you!” When she didn’t comply, he moved on, proceeding to pull out Sydney’s supposed diary and flipping through it, exposing all of her secrets to the whole school. He told about how at Ricky’s party, she had kissed Dina upstairs. As he spoke, he hopped off the stage and pushed past people to stalk closer to his victim, the path to her and Dina made clear. I could see the panic in Sydney’s eyes. My blood boiled at the derogatory term he used for her sexuality, but Stan was just about ready to pop. His jaw was severely clenched and his face was flushed red in anger. I felt him move forward, but kept an arm in front of him. But there was no holding him back after the next thing Brad exposed. “And my god, don’t even get me started on the daddy issues on this one. I mean, it’s fucking worse than Zip’s! And we all know about that!” That comment punched me straight in the gut and Stan ripped his arm from my hold, pushing his way through the crowd. “Everyone in Sydney’s life thinks that she’s a piece of shit. And I mean everyone!” His cackling was interrupted when Stan broke through everyone.

“Hey, man! Leave her alone!” He went to stand in front of his friend, but Brad immediately swung, his fist connecting with Stan’s face and sending him to the ground, unconscious. My breathing stuttered before I wordlessly shoved everyone out of the way, trying to get to his limp form. There were a few people separating us that wouldn’t budge. I growled as Brad continued, shaking his fist from the blow.

“But that is not even the weirdest thing about Sydney… Novak,” He took a few steps forward, and I watched as Sydney wiped a tear from her eye. This whole situation was fucked. “Get this. Sydney claims that she has-”

To this day, I have no fucking clue how it happened, but Brad’s words were cut short when his blood and brains exploded onto everyone near him. Including me. I heard nothing but white noise the second the blood platter smacked into my hair, onto my face, my dress, my shoes. Brad’s headless body fell limp to the ground, the remaining of his brains spilling out from where his head should have been. His head should’ve been there… His head should be there! I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. My eyes were glued to the bloodied corpse on the ground. I was sure everyone was screaming and running around, but I couldn’t do the same. I saw shaking Dina’s form, trembling as she moved, but my focus snapped right back to the fucking corpse. I should’ve moved. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve ran. I should have been crying and gagging and panicking, but I just… I couldn’t. I don’t know what the fuck.

“(Y/N)!” I felt a hand pulling me by the arm, but I was in such a state of shock that I blindly let whoever drag me out of the school- no, the crime scene. I felt the cool air nip at my exposed skin, but I still couldn’t have been bothered to react to anything. It wasn’t until I felt a piece of bloody meat slip down my face and disappear into my dress that I could breathe again. I let out a blood-curdling scream as I felt it run down my skin.

“It’s in my dress! It’s touching me!” I cried. The mess of curls in front of me whipped around to face me. Through my teary-eyed vision, I could make out that it was Stan. He was awake, he was fine. But I wasn’t.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?!”

“It’s in my fucking dress!” I gagged as I felt it run down my stomach. “Stan, a piece of his fucking brain-”

He firmly grabbed me by the shoulders and rushed me to his car. I hyperventilated as he placed me in the passenger seat. Before closing the door, he reached into my dress from the bottom and slid his hand from my knees, past my thighs and planted his palm on my stomach. He gagged when his hand touched the meat, grabbing hold of it and ripping his hand from my dress, throwing the flesh to the ground. Stumbling a bit, he shut my door and rounded the car to drive. I had to ride with my window down, letting the wind blow against my face to prevent the contents in my stomach from resurfacing into Stan’s car. He drove all around town, calling out for Sydney. He would glance over at me every once and awhile when I would gag or groan, but that was it.

What a sight I was.

Do I look beautiful now, Stan?

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

When Stan decided to give up on the search for Sydney, he sped us to his house. The sirens of police cars and ambulances echoed within my empty mind. But the moment I left the car, I hurled my guts up into Stan’s yard. He caught me before I could fall and rubbed my back until I emptied my stomach. Then when I was done, I did the same for him.

I had no concept of time, I can’t remember how long we were throwing up in his front lawn, but when we were done, he guided me inside the house and down to his room. The second he let go of me to retrieve new clothes, my entire body trembled and shook uncontrollably. “S-Stan… S-S-Stan.” I whimpered out. He returned to me with clothes tucked under one of his arms. He held me by the elbow and guided me to his bathroom, sitting me down on the toilet lid before starting up the shower for me.

“Nugget? Hey, do you want me to-”

“N-No.” I don’t know why I said that. I needed him in that room with me. He was patient enough to look away as I undressed, nearly falling a few times, and stepped into the shower. He left the door slightly ajar, so I was sure he could hear my sobbing as I sat down, letting the water rinse me of Bradley Lewis’s blood and guts.

I returned to Stan in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He stood from his bed and carefully watched the way I moved. The way I slowly blinked and walked two steps at a time toward him. Silently, he lifted his covers for me to lay down. I stared at him emptily for a few beats before complying, my back facing him. I felt his lips on my neck and gladly welcomed the kiss before he whispered into my ear, “I’m gonna shower now, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Go ahead.” I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. As Stan showered, my shaking hands reached up and freed my locks from my hair clips. I tried to keep my crying near-silent as I did so, but I wasn’t too sure how loud I was being. Within time, he had returned and laid down beside me in bed. And from the warmth I felt when his back touched mine, I could tell he was shirtless. It was painfully silent as we both unevenly breathed. I bit my fingers to keep myself from crying again. Everything about me felt unbalanced. I wanted to be beaten even. It’s what I deserved for not taking care of myself.

“Hey.” Stan’s whisper broke my train of thought.

“H-Hey…”

“You asleep?”

“No… You?”

“No.” He muttered as I felt the bed dip when he turned around to spoon me. His leg draped over mine as his arms pulled me closer. He pressed his lips to the side of my neck as he deeply inhaled. I closed my eyes and willed myself to ask the question brewing in my mind,

“Do you have any idea what the fuck happened? B-Brad just… h-he fucking…”

“I know,” He murmured against my skin, his hold tightening as well as his throat. I could tell by the way he choked on his breath. “I… I’ll explain it another day. N-Not tonight.”

As we fell asleep an hour later, I knew he’d never explain it.

—————————————

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