| Plaything | Antisepticeye x Reader

Chapter 24: The Animosity Cafe

I wake up the next morning and prepare for the day, still confused. My night was restless, full of conflicting thoughts. When I make my way downstairs, I find Anti sitting on the couch, tossing and catching a knife. He looks over as I enter the room, smirking.

"Look who's up," he simpers.

Raising my hands in the 'time out' gesture, I close my eyes and lower my head. After a couple deep breathes, I raise my head to look at him.

"Um, no. An explanation is in order, I believe."

Anti tilts his head to the side. "Hm?"

"You know what I'm talking about. I'm too annoyed to argue with you, right now."

He gestures for me to walk over, and I do. Once I'm within reaching-distance, he abruptly yanks me into his lap. Two cold arms snake around my waist, securing my position.

I push against his arms, which clearly don't budge. Anti rests his head in the crook of my neck, frigid air passing through his lips and causing goosebumps to race up and down my skin. I shiver, but my face heats up. The demon seems to enjoy my discomfort.

"Why is this happening?" I groan, mostly to myself.

"Because I want to," Anti replies, sending another shiver up my spine when his cold breath hits my skin.

"I'm gonna need a bit more of an answer." I try to shoulder his head off of me, and he reluctantly sits up.

"You're warm and I'm not," he states, matter-of-factly.

Why don't you carve an 'A' into your own chest and heat yourself up with that? I think with annoyance. In response, Anti's grip around my waist tightens, his nails beginning to dig into my skin. Joking, joking, I quickly add. His arms don't budge, but his fingers stop gripping me so tightly.

I pull out my phone and begin to scroll through various social media apps. Jacksepticeye posted a couple of selfies. Out of habit, I like the picture. I hadn't noticed that Anti had turned his head to watch my phone's screen intently, and it freezes and pixelates.

"Liking a picture doesn't always mean something, Anti. Learn social media," I sigh. "It's habit. It's just something you do."

His hand reaches out to grab my phone. I move my hand away while also taking the opportunity to get out of his lap. Then, I give a small wave and head out the door, Anti rolling his eyes after me.

I run into Colum again on my way to the cafe I usually sit in. He smiles when he sees me, and I remember how he's forgotten about how I accidentally almost got him killed.

"Hey, [Y/N]," he says, falling into step with me. "How's it going?"

"Pretty well, I guess," I respond, much more relaxed with him than I was before. "How about you?"

"I'm doing well. Actually, I wanted to–"

Colum stops in his tracks and doubles over, one arm clutching his stomach and the other hand holding a part of his back. That's right, I think. He'll get about half the power of the 'A' when he tries to confess.

I move to his side, placing a hand on his back. A tiny, faint red glow is visible through his shirt. "Whoa, are you okay, dude?"

Internally, I hope that he'll stop thinking about confessing to me and move on. After a couple of seconds, he rights himself and shakes it off. The glow has disappeared. Colum blinks a couple times, rubbing his shoulder.

"I-I'm good now."

"Are you sick or something?"

"Maybe... I'm gonna head home and figure out what's happening."

Luckily, he seems to have forgotten his previous plan. I smile at him, sympathetically. Though I don't say anything, I understand how it feels. Again alone, I sit down at a table near the back and nurse a steaming cup of coffeee.

The door of the shop opens after I've only had a few sips. A set of jealousy-filled eyes land on me, causing me to look up into them. My face can't help but cringe at the sight of a posh blonde gazing at me. The owner of the eyes walks over to my table, sitting across from me. Since I'd taken a seat against the wall, I'm cornered.

Why do I keep coming to this damn cafe?

"Hey there, [Y/N]," Baker seethes. The Heather Chandler of my school leans forward, resting their chin on the wealthiest hands I'll see in my lifetime. They'd hated me ever since I started dating Lukas, their ex. I hadn't known it at the time, but luck just doesn't favor me, does it?

"Bernice Baker, what a surprise." I give their glare a faux smile. I've never just called them "Bernice", opting to use their full or last name as a way of showing that we're not friendly enough for a first-name basis. "What're you doing on this side of town? I thought you never entered a building worth less than three million dollars."

"Just happened to be in the area. I was going to check up on Lukas," they snarl. Then, it turns to a smug smile. "But I guess you wouldn't know where he is ever since he dumped you."

I sigh. "Riiiiight... he dumped me. I guess you haven't heard the news, then."

"If I haven't heard it, it's probably not worth hearing," they say, rolling their eyes.

"Lukas is dead."

Biting my lip to suppress a laugh, I watch their face go from nonchalance to shock. Their mouth turns into the widest 'O' I've ever seen, their eyes being a close second. As if time stopped around them, they sit perfectly still, ogling me.

"Yeah, he and Arendt were murdered in their rooms. The killer cut off their arms and stuck them to the other," I continue, watching Baker gag.

They regain some sense, and try to calm themself. "I bet you did it out of jealousy.'

"You're making comments about jealousy?" I mutter under my breath.

"What'd you just say?" they snap.

"Nothing, Bernice Baker."

"I should get my parents to have your parent fired, and you expelled," they hiss.

I'm not sure whether it was the attitude, the threat, or my general annoyance, but I'd finally had enough of their shit. As Baker rants, I slip the silverware from the table, gripping the metal fork in my hand. In my other hand is the cloth napkin, smushed into a ball. The moment they place a hand on the table, I stab the fork into their downturned hand and shove the napkin ball into their mouth.

"Now listen here, Bernice Baker," I say sweetly, giving my biggest smile, "I think I've had enough of your pretty little face giving me shit all the time. There are two ways to fix that. One, you stop giving me shit of your own accord. Two–" I flick open my pocketknife and gently press the blade against her jaw "–I could make you less pretty. You choose."

They sit completely still, frozen again in pain and shock. I add a bit more pressure to the the knife. "Blink once for 'one' and twice for 'two'."

They quickly blink once and struggle to keep their eyes open. Consequently, a couple tears teeter on the brim of their eyelids, then commit to the plummet, gliding down their cheeks.

I smile. "Good choice. And to remind you of this moment..."

My cup of coffee is still nearly full and extremely hot. I slowly pour the contents on their arm, watching them squeeze their eyes shut against the pain as muffled whimpers ghost through the cloth in their mouth. When I've finished, I crush the cup and toss the paper ball at their head. Then, I stand and leave waving back to them.

"See ya, Baker."

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of "Plaything" as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and votes are super appreciated. Thanks for reading! ~Blue