#because I simply just didn’t think about it I don’t need to if I’m operating by not using non-essential systems

[bloomeng]

This is my official Batfam Magical Girl AU Masterpost (everyone clapped)

(image updated: 9/21/24)

I’m going to do a brief overview and then go into more details for those interested.

Bruce being from old money (and apparently being connected to Camelot) inherited a mysterious mineral with unknown properties. In its raw form it’s very unassuming, but when cut like gemstones and added to accessories can be harnessed into a tool. By altering the mineral into a wearable item it allows the magic within to be channeled. The magic of the mineral connects with its wielder to create an outfit and (typically) a weapon. These outfits do not grant the wearer special abilities outside of the transformation and the weapon, but when worn the wearer is granted (what is basically) hammerspace and a nearly impenetrable outfit. The uniform granted is not something they can alter the appearance of but will change gradually overtime to reflect how the wielder has grown.

This mineral will henceforth be known as Arcanium. It operates on Kryptonite logic in that it’s— allegedly— super rare but also shows up whenever the plot needs it. (I’m aware it shares a name with a card game, but I wanted my Kryptonite spoof)

Martha Wayne unknowingly started the cycle by turning— what she thought was a rare gemstone— into a brooch. She died shortly after having it made and Alfred held onto it in her memory. Like canon Bruce goes on his journey of self-exploration to train. When he comes back he enacts his plan the way he does in Batman: Year One, where he goes out in basically just make-up, and it goes poorly. He wanders his manor trying to formulate a strategy and is drawn to his parent’s room and finds his mother’s brooch. Cue the first magical girl transformation. From there he alters the brooch to fit his bat aesthetic and the Batman Brooch is born.

Dick comes into his life the same way as canon. Bruce takes him in as a ward, Dick tries to track down Zucco on his own, etc. Bruce decides to use the other raw sample of Arcanium to turn into a second magical artifact. He lets Dick pick the theme, and thus the Robin Pendant is born. The rest is history.

(Before I continue I want to warn that I’m making shit up as I go, so some of this is subject to change as I move forward.)

The Robin Pendant is passed down from Robin to Robin. Each Robin got their own unique look while using it. Following canon, Dick and Bruce have their falling out and Dick gives up the Robin Pendant in a moment of anger. In this au I think Dick, not having the pendant to fall back on, tries to lead a vigilante-free life, but of course falls back into it. During a fight he somehow manages to stumble across Arcanium in its raw form. Recognizing it he takes it with him. Like Nightwing: Year One he has his conversation with Superman and decides to become his own hero. Using his knowledge of Arcanium from his years with Bruce he creates his own magical artifact and becomes Nightwing.

This a good place to interject that I’m not changing any of their hero names. I was asked about it a couple times due to the caption, “Red Bow & Sailor Nightwing” on my Dick and Jason designs. It was was just a silly caption, because I didn’t want to simply state “Jason and Dick Magical Girl au.” But being serious, I don’t really see a reason to change their names, with the exception of maybe Red Hood, seeing as I didn’t give him a red hood. My au operates on Sailor Moon logic where despite the lack of masks no one recognizes them, and it’s just vaguely explained by magic. I think it would be funny if Bruce chose to wear a mask anyway because he’s that paranoid, but we’ll see when I actually design him. Anyway point is Red Hood is lacking a red hood, maybe he secretly has a red hood on his jacket or maybe he really does go by Red Bow, I’ll leave that up to interpretation.

Arcanium does not just accidentally appear. At the end of the day it’s still a mineral and it’s not sentient, but the magic has an element of “the wand chooses the user.” It’s not so much a “chosen one thing,” so much as the magic can sense intention. It doesn’t care about the morality of the user, the magic is more seeking a symbiotic connection. (Meaning yes rougues can in fact wield artifacts.) Simply put, it wants a host that will be able to wield it. In its raw form the magic is dormant but it seeks to be… not dormant, so when it finds those who actually have the potential to create an artifact and use it, it reveals itself. It was not a coincidence that Martha had the inclination to have the brooch made, it was not a coincidence that Bruce was drawn to his parent’s room, and it was not a coincidence that Dick found Arcanium in the alleyway.

Each of the Bats have their origin moments with their own magical artifacts. I don’t have the whole timeline down, but I will say there was a lot of drama between Tim and Damian, because Tim was forced to hand over the pendant. Even though he technically relinquished it, emotionally the connection wasn’t severed. No one was sure if the transition would work, but Arcanium responds to whoever needs it more and therefore who will use it more. Like canon, Tim is having an awful time during that era. On top of all of it he’s had his title striped from him and he can’t even argue because if it wasn’t the right move the pendant wouldn’t have responded to Damian. Dick tries to comfort him by telling him that Arcanium will appear for him when he’s ready, but Tim is furious and impatient. So like a well-adjusted person he decides he’s going to engineer his own magical artifact artificially. It goes as well as his attempt to clone Kon does. It’s not until Tim starts to get back on his feet that Arcanium presents itself to him. My thinking is that while Arcanium finds its users when they need it most, Tim’s case is abnormal. His acquisition of the pendant was unconventional from the start since he showed up and demanded to take on the Robin role. Arcanium is drawn to individuals who will actually use its properties. Tim tends to rely more on his own detective work, which renders the pendant’s properties pretty moot. Especially when he’s going off the deep end, he becomes a hermit meaning a) he wouldn’t really need/use Arcanium’s properties and b) he inadvertently limited his own chances of stumbling across it “in the wild.”

In a similar vein I believe Barbara’s journey is abnormal in that she forged her own Batgirl artifact that operates a little differently than the others, seeing as she made it without Bruce’s influence. After the accident she shelved it, maybe she passed it down to Cass, but eventually she gets it back. She created the Oracle identity without it, and for a long time the Batgirl artifact is something she avoids using, until she gets the idea to combine it with her computer to create a magic computer… sort of. She gets a uniform that is basically connected to the computer.

Going back to Damian needing the Robin Pendant more, its reaction to his acquisition was unique. As I mentioned previously the suits typically provide a weapon, well Damian is the exception. Unlike all the other Robin’s Damian didn’t need more weapons in his life, what he needed was guidance. For the first time the pendant granted Damian a magical animal guardian, which is how he gets Alfred the Cat in this au. Despite being an animal lover Damian is extremely pissed at this development. He wanted dual swords or a scarier animal at least. He can’t formally communicate with Alfred the Cat but he understands him intrinsically, though Alfred the Cat seems to be able to understand human speech somewhat. Only Damian seems to be able to truly understand Alfred the Cat. (Cue the antics of his siblings trying to figure out what the cat means or trying to control him in any capacity.) Besides being an animal, Alfred the Cat is also unique in that he doesn’t dissipate when Damian isn’t in uniform the way that the weapons do. Like the weapons he can be summoned by the pendant, but he seems to have existed prior to the pendant’s creation. (I’m toying with the idea that while in uniform, the cat would also get some sort of uniform.)

Before I get into Duke and his abnormalities, I want to address the Speedsters in this au. It’ll make sense after.

So the Flash. I want to say I don’t know if I will get around to creating full designs for them. I do have plans for Bart and maybe Wally, but I have determined how I want their mechanics to operate in the context of the au. Not all the heroes in this au are “magical girls,” in fact I’ve made the executive decision that you have to be human to wield an artifact. Arcanium may have magic in it, but it doesn’t grant its user magical abilities beyond the uniform itself. The speedsters retain their canon origins, hit by lighting blah blah blah, only with one key difference: they had Arcanium on them when they were hit. Instead of engineering an artifact Arcanium fused with their bodies granting them powers. I want to keep the magic transformation aspect (because it’s not a magical girl au without it), so instead of using a physical artifact as a channel for their powers, it’s instead the act of transforming that serves as a gateway to their speed abilities.

To me it was always important to maintain Batman’s identity of not having super powers and having to rely on engineering, which is why the Batfam have to physically build their artifacts. In a similar way I wanted to retain the integrity of the Flash’s identity of being meta but also still human. Which brings me back to Duke. I know in canon that Duke inherited his abilities, but for the sake of the au I’ve decide that he either had an accident when he was young in which traces of Arcanium fused with him or his parents had it in them and he inherited it from them, but regardless it’s less potent, but operates similar to the Speedsters. For years he couldn’t fully transform or use his powers and it wasn’t until— with Bruce’s guidance— he was able to create an artifact that allowed him to channel his abilities and transform. Even though he is a meta I wanted him to still have some of those Batfam qualities in there.

But what about the Superfam? They’re not human so how do their transformations work? The answer is simple: They’re not “magical girls.” At least not real ones, they’re faking. They’re not human (Kon and Jon are technically half human but they still get their abilities from their Kryptonian DNA), and thus cannot forge a connection with Arcanium. Truthfully I’m about to get silly— even sillier than this au already is— but I have decided that Clark is a fake artifact wielder. I like the idea that Batman has been operating longer than Superman has, so when Clark decided to become a hero in his own right his only example of how to style himself was from the bat themed vigilante, who might as well be a cryptid, operating out of Gotham. Only blurry pictures of him existed, so Clark designed his outfit based on his Kryptonian origins and Batman’s aesthetics. He had no idea about the existence of Arcanium or how it worked. This is also why Kon’s design looks so much like his canon outfit with a few magical girl elements (and definitely not because I think the lines in his canon suit already lend themselves well to a magical girl aesthetic and didn’t want to change much). Later when he gets to know Batman more he learns about the transformations, to which he panics and invents his own transformation using Kryptonian tech (ex: MAWS’s transformation). For years Bruce goes crazy trying to figure out Arcanium’s effects on aliens and if it grants them abilities on top of the ones they’re born with, and if Clark has plans to use it as a weapon, and how he managed to forge the connection in the first place— Clark comes clean as a fake once they reveal their identities to each other.

Side tangent but I find it hilarious that Green Lanterns are— by technicality— already “magical girls,” considering they’re granted magical accessories that give them powers and transform their clothing. Hal is very clear with the JL that he is nothing like Batman and constantly feels the need to assert that he is not a magical artifact wielder. The non-human members of the team still lump them together anyway.

Things I haven’t figured out:

- what each of the batfam’s weapons are

- what each of the magical artifacts are

- what to refer to magical artifact wielders as

Stepping outside the canon(?) lore of the au for a minute, obviously I’m redesigning DC characters using inspiration from a genre, because that’s what “magical girl” is. It’s a genre. This is why I refer to it in quotes and don’t call them magical boys, because I am always referring to it as a genre, which isn’t a gendered thing. However, in universe they wouldn’t call themselves magical anything, the same way the characters of Sailor Moon don’t refer to themselves as magical girls, but rather Sailor Scouts. As of right now I’m sort of just referring to them as artifact wielders, but I feel like Bruce would come up with a better name. On a similar note, throughout this whole thing I’ve been referring to Arcanium in it’s wearable state as an artifact. I don’t know if that’s the best term, but I can’t think of anything better for the generalized form of Arcanium outside of it’s raw state. For now I guess it will be “artifacts” and “artifacts wielders.”

- how the wonderfam fits into this

I really can’t think of a reason why Wonder Woman would be a “magical girl” in this au. She was born with abilities, she’s not human, and I can’t see her altering her uniform to match the aesthetic. A transformation would just be a waste of time for her. I could see maybe Cassie or Donna wanting to match with their respective teams, and perhaps maybe that’s why they would alter their uniforms? All I know is I want see Tim, Kon, Bart and Cassie as a matching “magical girl set.”

Fin… for now.

[I’m just going to put this here preemptively, because I’ve gotten messages about turning my au into fics or tiktok skits. You’re free to use this lore HOWEVER you MUST credit me not just for the designs but for the creation of the lore. I’ve put a lot of time and thought into this and I love that people love it, so I just ask for recognition. If you want to make something that’s inspired by my designs or loosely based on my au, just a simple credit for the inspiration is fine. You’re free to change things this is just how my own au operates. Regardless I would prefer to be tagged so that people can find me but also because I’d love to see other’s work.]

Current designs:

[dex-starr]

I keep on thinking back to just being told that I’m an honest person who just harbors a lot of regrets they don’t speak up about

[revasserium]

Can i request OPLA zoro where he doesn't get along with reader but calls her my girl in front of a baratie waiter who was flirting with her.

my girl

zoro; 2,438 words; fluff, kinda enemies to lovers, fem!reader, straw hat!reader, lots of banter, slow...burn?

summary: just cause you don't see eye to eye doesn't mean zoro's down to watch you get hit on while he's in the same bar, either.

a/n: again. i've got no excuse. pls continue to send more requests feed my opla!zoro obsession u__u

it is perhaps what therapists and psychiatrists would call an incompatibility of character. or maybe something about you and him that simply acted like two jigsaw pieces from completely different puzzles. or maybe luffy had just jinxed it when he’d said the first time that he sensed some “tension amongst the crew”, but it’s no secret that you and zoro don’t exact see eye to eye.

in fact, sanji thinks, it might only be a matter of time before you each try to take the other’s eyes out permanently.

“you’re really not worried?” he asked luffy as they’d watched zoro and you bicker all the way down the wobbling boardwalk leading up to the baratie, you sniping at zoro for getting in your way and zoro biting back something equally acerbic and childish about you being too clumsy to be a good pirate.

“huh? why would i be worried? they get along just fine!” luffy had laughed, eyes bright and round as he’d readjusted his hat and bounded off towards the entrance, whooping about being hungry enough to take down an entire sea cow.

“wh —”

“bit rich, since you and zoro are always at each other’s throats, no?”

nami bumps sanji’s arm as she strolls by him with a stack of empty crates. sanji squawks, readjusting his own bags before jogging after her.

“c’mon, you know that’s different!”

nami smirks but doesn’t grace that with an answer, instead, she lets her eyes flicker back to where you and zoro are still snarking at each other even as the bewildered looking fishman at the front leads you all around back to the kitchen entrance.

“— wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d just —”

“yeah? and if i’d just stayed put like you said, the entire going merry would’ve gone up in smoke cause last i checked, wood is very flammable!”

“the merry’s not that fragile.”

“you wanna bet?”

“yeah, maybe i do —”

“what’s goin’ on here? didn’t i tell you lot to get lost?” zeff’s gruff voice interrupts your bickering as the peg-legged chef looks from zoro to you and then the rest of the crew, “gotta new one, didya? don’t remember you from the last time these idiots were here.”

“she’s barely an upgrade from the clown head —”

you slam your heel into the toe of zoro’s boot and he hisses, nearly dropping his armful of crates.

“what he means is that i’m the brains of the operation —”

“we don’t need brains —”

“oh, so you’re admitting that you didn’t have any before i got here?”

zoro glares, dropping the crates as luffy pushes past you both to clap zeff on the shoulder and offer him a huge stack of berry.

“we came to pay you back for the meal last time! and to buy a new one! and… maybe some extra food stuff if you’ve got it.”

zeff opens his mouth to answer but it’s drowned out by the sound of your voice as you jab a finger into zoro’s chest.

“— just because you can’t hold more than one cohesive thought in your head at once doesn’t mean that —”

“— what’s that even supposed to mean? like you can think about two things at once?”

“enough! you two — outta the kitchen, now! i won’t have your lovesick teenage yappin’ distractin’ my line chefs!”

you both jump at zeff’s voice, and an unpleasant heat creeps into your cheeks as you realize that the entire kitchen had indeed gone very quiet, most of the white-clad workers staring at you and zoro.

“i need a drink,” zoro says, rolling his shoulders as he sidesteps you and pushes his way out of the kitchen.

“look, sir, i didn’t mean —” you take half a step forward but zeff jabs a finger at the doors still swinging in zoro’s wake.

“i said out!”

you glance between zeff and the rest of your crew for a split second before turning and scrambling from the kitchen, looking abashed.

“oh no, c’mon zeff, you didn’t need to yell at her like that —” sanji sighs as he tries to go after you, but nami nails him in the stomach with one of her arms.

“nope. this is something they need to work out on their own. and you’re on grocery shopping duty with me, remember?” she flashes him a smile even as he deflates slightly and turns back to the work of haggling rations out of the baratie’s storerooms.

you find zoro already posted up at the bar, even though the hour is still early enough that there’s only a few other patrons, mainly keeping to themselves. you fight the urge to march up to him and give him an earful about embarrassing you in front of sanji’s old master like that but zeff’s words about making a scene keeps your lips clamped shut.

instead, you seat yourself as far from zoro as humanly possible and wait for the bartender to sidle over. he flashes you a winning smile, making no attempt to conceal the way his eyes drag from your hair to your face and then down to your cleavage, where his gaze rests for a beat too long before he clears his throat.

“what can i get you, gorgeous? something sweet and bubbly, perhaps? or maybe something a bit more dark and… seductive? i can have a custom drink whipped up for you in a few if you’d like… on the house, of course.”

he shoots you a wink that has your eyebrows hiking up your forehead.

“laying it on thick, are we?”

the bartender shrugs, seemingly unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm.

“place like this doesn’t exactly breed subtlety.”

you make a noncommittal noise before sighing, “i’ll have a dirty martini, shaken not stirred, straight, with a twist, please.”

to his credit, the bartender doesn’t miss a single beat, “ah, a woman of taste, though i’ll admit that i prefer my martini’s naked instead of shaken, hm?”

he waggles his eyebrows and if it weren’t for the loud cough from down the bar drawing the bartender’s attention, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

at the opposite end of the bar, zoro taps his empty drink glass against the waxy hardwood, a vein ticking in his jaw. he’d listened to the entire exchange with a growing annoyance festering in the depths of his stomach. and here he was, hoping for a moment of quiet without the sound of your voice yammering in his ear. he shoots the bartender a glowering look as the man refills his drink and tries to make his way back down the bar to you.

zoro tosses the entire drink back in one and sets the empty glass down with a loud clack, clearing his throat as the bartender turns to stare at him. he holds the man’s gaze for a full three seconds before looking pointedly down at his glass and the bartender’s face visibly reddens.

“here you are, sir — the last three are on the house.”

the bartender lines up five identical drinks in front of zoro before marching away and zoro has to give it to the guy. he does make a good, stiff drink.

still, as he tries his hardest not to glance down towards where you’re sitting, sipping slowly at your martini, he can’t help overhearing the stilted stabs at conversation floating down the length of the empty bar. the bartender lavishes you with questions, asking about your travels, who you came with, where you’re from. you, for your part, never give him an answer more than three words long — travels were good, my crew, an autumn island.

zoro briefly wonders why you don’t tell the guy off like you so often did him. then, he briefly wonders if the fact that you’re always so easily set off by him means something. then, he not-so-briefly wonders why, if he’s always been so bothered by you, that he’s still thinking about you in the precious few hours he has to himself.

he clicks his tongue and downs another drink just as you finish your first.

“c’mon darlin’ — just a hint — what about the first letter? shall i try to guess?”

you sigh into your now empty glass as the bartender asks your name for the third time in a row, though to no avail. suddenly, a warm, solid presence appears next to you and the next thing you know, zoro’s arm is brushing up against yours as he leans over the bar to bear down at the bartender.

“right, now if you’re done trying t’pick up my girl, i think i’d like the check.”

the bartender blinks up at zoro, uncomprehending for a second before a blotchy redness seeps into his cheeks.

“y-your — you haven’t said a word to each other since either of you got here!”

you swallow passed a bewildered laugh as you glance up at zoro to find a challenge clear in his eyes. you slowly swivel back to the bartender with a light smile.

“ever heard of a lover’s quarrel?”

the bartender sputters as he stares between the pair of you for another long second before scurrying off to fetch the check. zoro chuckles under his breath, his earrings clinking softly in the dim light.

“damn — i really wanted another drink,” you say, staring at your empty glass.

wordlessly, zoro plops one of his in front of you. it’s the second to last.

you bring it up to your nose for a sniff before making a face.

“god that smells awful!”

“fine then, more for me.”

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t drink it!”

you bring the glass to your lips for a small sip. it’s tastier than you’d imagined but it still burns a line down your throat as you shiver.

“h-holy shit —” you cough, wiping at your mouth, “how many of these have you had?”

zoro shrugs, sipping on his own glass with a careless ease, “dunno. don’t really keep count.”

“ugh… this could knock out a war elephant…” you make another face before you take a second sip.

“figures you can’t hold your liquor, drinkin’ whatever girly shit you ordered.”

you round on him, “martinis are not girly!”

“tch. whatever.”

you settle into a huffy silence. zoro’s arm is still pressed against yours and neither of you makes to pull away. for a while, the only sounds in the bar are the soft clink of ice on glass and the light, liquid splashing of the ocean waves.

“why didn’t you tell him off?” zoro’s voice is quiet and when you turn to look at him, it’s to find him staring. you hold his gaze steady and don’t look away.

“why should i? he’s no one to me.”

“you don’t seem to have a problem yellin’ at me.”

you shrug, your eyes flickering back to the too-strong drink in your hand.

“i don’t tend to waste my breath on people i don’t really care about,” you say, your voice soft and careful and honest. zoro sucks in a slow breath, his mildly alcohol addled brain trying to process what you’d just said but his thoughts are interrupted by a peel of loud, raucous laughter echoing in from the dining room beyond.

“c’mon, sounds like dinner is served,” you say, grinning as you push off the bar, jerking your head towards the dining room door.

zoro lets out the breath before downing the rest of his drink and leaving the empty glass on the bar to follow you.

at dinner, you bicker less than usual and zoro is even more quiet than he normally is. though he wastes no time ordering another round for the table. no one really comments till zeff comes round at the end with the check.

“dinner’s already paid for but i was told that this is for the ‘lovebirds from the bar’,” he says, as he drops the drinks bill in front of zoro with a deadpan sort of look.

for a full ten seconds, no one moves. and then, usopp’s jaws hit the floor as sanji’s eyebrows jerk towards the ceiling. nami sits back with a satisfied smirk as luffy nods happily at the two of you before turning to grin at sanji.

“see? told you they get along fine!”

sanji has the decency to sputter just as usopp leans forward to point between you and zoro.

“wait… whaattt?”

you make to tug out your wallet but zoro slaps a stack of berry on top of the bill.

“give our compliments to the bartender,” he says with a slight smirk as zeff takes the money, glancing up at the two of you.

“yeah? what’d he make that’s got you so impressed?”

you purse your lips as you make a show of shrugging, waving a nonchalant hand through the air.

“oh, just a mean dirty martini.”

zeff lets out a loud bark of laughter as he takes the berry and clomps back towards the kitchens, shaking his head. zoro chuckles beside you as he stretches an arm over his head and lets it settle casually on the booth back behind you.

later, as everyone is making their way back towards the going merry, nami catches up to you on the docks, looping an arm through yours and pinning you with a meaningful look just as sanji sidles up to zoro and bumps him with a shoulder.

“so…” nami says, grinning as she tugs you forward a few steps.

“so.” sanji clears his throat, casting zoro a sidelong glance.

“wanna tell me what that was about?” nami asks.

“care to elaborate on that back there?” sanji questions.

you and zoro both take a deep, long breath. zoro glances up to see the way you toss a lock of hair over your shoulder, your bright laughter carrying back on the breeze. you allow yourself a smile, and you don’t have to turn to feel zoro’s eyes on you as both of you turn to your respective companions and say —

“i’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

opla!zoro reqs are (as always) open!!

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Business Decisions

He's not who people might think he is.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut

Length: 3k Words

-Masterlist

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Min Yoongi is, despite his looks and quiet nature, a very kind person. Or at least, that's what some very selected people will tell, if one was to ask them.  

His tail softly sways behind him as he keeps an eye on the main operational panel in front of him, while you watch. His cat-like ear snaps a bit irritated at something- when his eyes turn towards you, glaring. “can you.. stop staring?” He requests, and you nod, instead turning to look out the large window of the spaceship instead. You’re quiet, but not mute- having talked to him quite a bit before. Maybe you simply don’t speak much, or don’t put much value in.. smalltalk.  

That’s fine by him. He doesn’t either. 

He's found you- or rather, you found him- just hours earlier at an outpost, asking him to take you along to another location in exchange for a small amount of money. Where he went next you didn't care- you only needed a ride to get around, most likely used to this kind of life, since you'd obviously chosen him very specifically amongst all the other options at the bustling restaurant.

In hindsight, it made sense that you approached him despite his grim appearance- he was the shortest and least threatening looking species in that restaurant at the time, and was also one of the only one's there without any company at all. You're clearly smart about this whole process of finding a ride from one place to another-

otherwise, you wouldn't have lived like this for so long, having done this for years, according to you.

“There is.. Food over there. If you’re hungry.” He tells you, and you look over to spot the metal trunk in a corner, before you nod at him, not moving at all however. 

“I’m not.” You answer, though your stomach growls as if to disagree, making you clearly a bit ashamed of it, eyes widening at being betrayed by your own body like this. 

“Just eat. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to give it to you.” He mumbles to himself, resuming his task of checking the ship’s systems again while you stay seated where he’d last told you to sit. You still won’t move, and he’s unsure why not- but he’s also aware that he shouldn’t get too invested in you. You’re gonna be dropped off next stop, and that’s gonna be it- which is for the best, because getting involved with humans is never a very good idea.  

And he’s also still on a mission to get his revenge- and secure his place in the foodchain, to be no longer seen as nothing but a docile little pet. A mission that might as well kill him- and if he can avoid pulling anyone down with him, he surely will. 

When he notices your eyes blinking longer and longer, he walks to fetch a sleeping bag from one of the other metal trunk in the corner, to offer it to you. “Sleep. It’ll still be a few more hours until we’ve reached the next outpost.” He says, and you take the sleeping bag from him with a thankful nod, before you spread it out right on the floor where you sit, to crawl into it and lay down. He has a suspicion what your way of earning money had been until now, but with your behavior so obvious, it’s very clear to him now.  

It makes him upset. The fact that you’ve been driven so far just to somehow survive.  

Either way, he stays awake to both keep himself safe just incase he’s misjudged you and your intentions, and to make sure the old and very small spaceship keeps it’s course as it sometimes tends to deviate over time due to the old navigation system. And yeah, maybe he also can’t help his instincts as well- 

Unintentionally guarding you while you sleep, eyes always checking up on you any time you move in your sleep.  

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Min Yoongi was born on Zoldos- a small, cold and relatively poor planet, which had been industrialized for ages. He remembers his father making toys out of junk he found while working at the metal factory each day, turning trash into small spaceships for Yoongi to play with.  

Most of his time however was spent with his mother, and the many children she’d foster over the years of his childhood- many of them he’d see as his sisters, as all of them would be girls given up by their families, since in his culture, they’re said to just be expensive and too much work to raise. Maybe this way of growing up, helping his mother with the young kids every day while she taught him everything he needed for his future, made him into the man he is today.  

His father had always been described as ‘unusually soft’ compared to what is usually expected and seen in his kind- Xaqal people tending to be combative, easily irritated, and quick to escalate situations into physical violence to defend themselves from others. But his father was already uninterested in any of the usual past-time activities his coworkers would indulge in, like underground fighting, or gambling- rather spending his free time home with his son, foster children and partner, which was unusual in itself. Usually, partners of his kind don’t stay together after their children learn how to walk- but Yoongi remembers that even when his mother passed, his father would continue to live at the same house, to find new homes for the remaining children, before he moved away as well once Yoongi decided to leave the planet.  

Yoongi is still in contact with his father, and doesn’t believe that he should’ve been raised any different than how he was. 

But his now rather soft and kind character comes with a price to pay- with most people on other planets not taking too kindly to him and his friendly nature at first. Friendships don’t pay your bills after all, so the first lesson the young man had to learn back then, was to toughen up, and start thinking of only yourself first and foremost. Getting attached to others was a risk to take, and would most likely end in a burden one might think of unnecessary.  

Even so, Yoongi has made friends along the way. From a very, very charismatic guy named Seokjin and his mother on Cryon, or the stoic and self-admitted younger ‘Asshole’ human-Bolku hybrid going by the name of Jungkook. But other than that, he keeps himself independent- away from others.  

However, for some reason, he’s now sitting with you on a bench on the outpost while his spaceship is being refueled, having bought you some warm food to eat, despite your active arguments against that. Maybe because you’re obviously in need of protection, or because you’re not a threat whatsoever- but he feels like he should at least make sure you’ll be okay on this outpost, before he’ll leave you here.  

Deep down, he knows it’s not the question if you end up getting into a situation where you’ll be killed- but more so, when.  

“What are... your capabilities?” Yoongi asks after a moment, watching your hands as they tear apart a piece of bread to dip it into your hot soup he bought. A warm and filling meal was a good idea to him, since it’ll keep you energized for longer than just a snack or fast food.  

You look up at him, caught off guard, as you swallow down, thinking.  

“Hm..” You hum as you think. “I.. Can read maps pretty well. And I’m good at cleaning.” You say. “But I could probably learn other things pretty quickly, if needed. It depends on the job I could get.” You explain, and Yoongi nods.  

“So if you had to learn about another species’ health and how to care for it, you could learn quickly?” He asks, and you nod.  

“If.. Given enough recourses to teach myself.” You mumble, continuing to eat. He’s getting the feeling you’ve not had a filling meal in a while with how eager you are to finish all of it.  

“I will not offer you monetary compensation.” He says, and at that, you look up again. “But instead a place to sleep, regular food, and.. Basic protection.” Yoongi explains to you, and at that, you instantly nod.  

“I can do anything!” You chirp, desperate- and he carefully pushes you back down by your shoulder, calming you down again. “Really-” 

“I believe you.” He nods. “But Be aware that I am not just some traveler.” He remarks, and you nod.  

“I understand.” You say. 

“Hm. If that’s the case-” He starts, looking over to a small shop that sells different electronics. “-I’ll get the necessary equipment to finalize our agreement. Stay here- and don’t talk to anyone.” He commands, and you nod, continuing to eat while he gets up to walk into the shop. 

Many of the people inside this shop are wearing the distinctive blinking tiny tracker around their necks- either from a simple leather collar, something more sleek like a silver hoop, or even one with a chain. It’s to be expected, as most of what is sold here is equipment for ‘personnel’, as it’s called across the galaxy, after the term ‘slave’ had been outlawed and categorized as a slur.  

Yoongi can feel the eyes on him, since the tall, green-skinned lady at the counter most likely waiting just like the rest of them for another person to follow him to buy equipment for him, as it’s normal for his kind- but the second he picks out a combination of a tracker, and EID tag, and a simple, silver collar that wouldn’t stain or sit too tight around your neck, people become interested.  

“Size is a bit small for you, kitty.” The alien woman giggles, scanning the items to add the price of everything together. “You know how to set the EID up?” She says, clicking at the end of her sentences a foreign tone, similar to an insect. 

“I know how it works.” He tells her, voice stable and monotone, something he taught himself to never give away any sign of his actual emotions. Because showing them will show weakness- and Yoongi needs to keep up an appearance of indifference at all times, just so people can never quite figure him out.  

People naturally fear the unknown, down the line, no matter the species.  

“Alright. Just out of curiosity though..” She says, clicking sounding again as she narrows her dark eyes at him while he pays. “...who the hell wants to be under the command of a Xaqal?” She says, some people in the small store giggling to themselves as if a joke had been told.  

“Someone who will live a fairly comfortable life from now on.” He simply answers, payment confirmed by her system, before he takes the bag of items, and leaves- gazes following him long after he exited the store.  

He’s relieved to still find you right where he left you, no one seemingly having tried to take you away, or worse yet- so he taps your shoulder to gain your attention, nodding towards his ship in the distance. “Let’s go. I need to set up your EID after we take off.” He says, and you nod, getting up to follow him.  

“Are- are you sure I’m a good choice?” You ask, walking after him like some lost pet, eager to keep up with his rather fast pace. For a Xaqal, he’s surprisingly tall- not quite as tall as some of the other human’s you’ve met, which normally are considered a shorter species, but also not as short as some of the Xaqals you’ve seen in the past.  

“Are you trying to sway my mind?” He wonders, opening the cargo door to his spaceship, before he climbs in- noticing how you don’t follow. So he walks back, and has to swallow down a laugh- because you clearly struggle to somehow pull yourself up on the iron steps, which are too high off the ground for you to properly reach with your legs. “...well, at least you won’t take up too much space on the ship.” He mumbles to himself, before he holds onto one of the metal handles on the sides, before he pulls you up by your arm so that you can make it onto the steps, able to finally climb inside.  

He’ll adjust the steps in the future. Maybe add one. Or rather three. 

Back in the main navigation center of the ship, where your sleeping bag is still laying in front of the front windows, you sit down right there, as if you’ve accepted this spot as your place to exist.  

The ship calms after it breaks orbit, softly flying through the empty space while Yoongi sets up the EID tag for you. The electronic identification device opens a new window on his control panel as he places it on the scanner he has, asking for him to input the necessary information- and he looks over at you, where you sit, looking out the window.  

“Once I set this up, it can’t just be undone.” He tells you, and you snap your head towards him, before you nod. “Alright.” He mumbles putting in his own information and ID number as your set ‘Employer’- scanning the chip placed onto the bone of his forearm, before he waves you over. “Put your arm here.” He tells you, and you do- though nothing is scanned at all, no matter how you twist or turn your arm. Yoongi’s brows furrow. “Where’s your ID-chip?” He asks, and you perk up, before you turn around, pointing somewhat to a spot on your back.  

“My spine- it should be between my shoulders.” You say.  

“Spine?” He mumbles, unsure. The spine is not a good spot to place an ID chip, no matter how small it is- it could still dislodge and get in between important nerves or even the vertabrae, causing damage that would be potentially fatal. “Why is it there?” He asks, picking up the scanner to run it over your back- a beep signalling that the chip had been found, and sucessfully read by the device.  

“As far as I know, most humans and Yon get it there, because its harder to get out.” You explain, having turned around to curiously watch Yoongi tap away all the info into your future identification. “Because, you know, Humans and Yon are popular Personnel. People would just chop their arms off and exchange it for a prosthetic later after they'd take them and put them up for sale. So to combat that, we get the chip on the spine instead.” You say, and Yoongi cringes to himself, realizing now why he sees so many humans and Yon people with a prosthetic.  

“I’ll research any risks to make sure you’re not doing any tasks that might end up immobilizing you.” He mumbles as he finishes up the settings, the red blinking light on the EID tag turning a steady green, signalling that it’s ready to be worn.  

“Oh, don’t worry. The chip is attached to the bone, so it doesn’t move.” You inform him, and that reassures him quite a bit, as he nods, and uses quite a lot of force to clip the tag onto the silver collar- metal snapping into place, making it hard to get it off again.  

“Alright. Come here.” He tells you, and you almost proudly stand straight, offering your neck to him as he clips the collar around you- electronic lock clicking shut, never to open again for anyone else but him. “Is that alright?” He asks, and you nod, while he tests- slipping two fingers between the metal and your neck, just to make sure it’s not too tight. “Alright.” 

“Alright.” You mirror, getting only a mild reaction from him.  

“I’ll order some books and electronic information devices for you to study. We’ll pick them up at the next outpost.” He informs you, and you nod, taking this as a signal that you’ve been dismissed- so you walk back to the sleeping bag, sitting down on it to look out the window again.  

“Can I.. sleep a bit?” You wonder, and Yoongi nods.  

“I don’t need you right now, so you can rest.” He accepts, and at that, you eagerly crawl into the sleeping bag again to sleep once more, giving him a moment to think about what he’d just done.  

He blames his instincts, the fact that his kind lives in groups and usually prefers company at all times. Maybe it’s the fact that he actually does need someone to be able to help take care of his health if a job went south. Or maybe, he just can’t shed the way he’s been raised, even though he’s not that kind person anymore. Even still, he feels odd, looking at you asleep in front of those large windows.  

Like he just got himself entangled into something a lot more complicated than he believes right now. 

[possamble]

Like take for example how she treats healing Laios leg!! We *never* see someone who was healed have lasting symptoms from a heal. It *itches* terribly — Laios looks like he will scratch it raw. The itching implies an incomplete heal — you only itch that bad when something is being regrown or scabbing like when you get tattoos. There’s something that needs to finish healing. This scene always stood out to me— because Falin notices and *heals* it. And that brought up a ton of questions for me (We see her cast magic, was it to soothe the itching? A phantom pain? Why was it itching in the first place? Didn’t Marcille finish the job? Why was he having after effects we never see someone have any before?) and i’m breaking my brain over it because is this an sign of Marcille’s engagement with healing in general? Perfunctory—a means to an end? Morals? I feel like there is something there for us because that scene wasn’t necessary to the plot so why did Ryoko Kui add this interaction? I think how Marcille engages with healing was telling us a lot more than I previously realized because she was in a medical researcher position before coming into the dungeon however when we see how this was practically applied by her was really interesting!! She’s so divorced from feeling empathy for the pain of healing and i think that’s some sort of self-preservation instinct. Idk i just feel like her engagement with healing is so fucking fascinating when juxtaposed with her beliefs on death pls share thots if any

I think what gets hidden in the details about Marcille’s healing is that no, she’s not a talented cleric and healer in the way that Falin is. But Fantasy settings tend to relegate healing towards “holy” and “good” magic that never causes harm—

and Marcille is what you’d get if you put a doctor and a surgeon with a modern, more realistic approach towards medicine in a genre that doesn’t usually allow for that. 

Like, you’ll see surgeons or doctors secretly being incredibly efficient serial killers in TV thrillers everywhere—but a fantasy series with a cleric or healer that’s secretly great at killing is a bit more rare to find(though not nonexistent, admittedly). Healing magic tends to be painted as either a religious discipline that’s not accessible to those who don’t have a tie to a deity or some ineffable force in the universe, or a matter of accessing some natural “life force” that exists in all living beings. 

Dungeon Meshi, of course, loves bending fantasy conventions in the most incredible ways, so that’s not how it works here. The series allows itself to contend with the fact that healing a human body requires extensive and painstakingly detailed knowledge of that body.

The reason that Falin might appear to be a much more talented healer than Marcille is because Kui dresses her up in all the archetypal traits of a Caring Cleric, and that immediately clicks with readers expecting fantasy conventions in ways that Marcille's expertise doesn't.

This isn’t to discredit Falin, obviously. She is a talented healer, as attested to by Marcille herself:

But the interesting thing is that she does it all on instinct, so it’s not an exact knowledge. Furthermore, she uses the gnomish system of healing, which is implied to rely more on the judgment and knowledge of natural spirits (and therefore takes less mana). So it’s not hard to imagine that she would have less exact knowledge of how the human body operates than Marcille does as a medical researcher. 

And that in and of itself raises questions: In a world where magic can immediately re-attach a limb, why would medical research be necessary? But Dungeon Meshi makes it clear that healing magic isn’t perfect, nor “holy” magic—it’s simply magic, like any other, carefully tailored to operate within the confines of what a human body needs in order to keep living. It’s not able to cure everything, and it especially seems to have gaps in terms of being able to treat illnesses that aren’t immediately solvable injuries.

And that all ties into Marcille's attitude towards it: It's a scientific and magical discipline like any other that requires careful study. There's nothing inherently good or bad about it—it was made by people, for people, and what matters is how you use it.

So, Marcille was at the academy, studying the ways that illness happens in a body, and carefully writing new magic to counteract or at least mitigate it.

(How I interpreted this was that she was likely part of research teams dealing with complicated things like autoimmune diseases, cancer, and other things where the body isn’t technically injured by a foreign element, but erroneously harming itself due to internal reasons.)

For me, this kind of explains her approach to pain in healing:

Honestly, what this immediately reminded me of was that a friend of mine had to have surgery on their throat when they were younger, and part of the procedure was waking them up without anaesthesia right after the surgery to make sure that they could still feel everything. They told me it was the worst pain they’d ever felt in their entire life—but from a medical perspective, it was necessary to make sure that none of the critical nerves in the neck had been affected. 

Sometimes in medicine, pain is necessary because it’s not some uncomplicated and bad thing—it’s a response of your nervous system, and sometimes the only indicator that your body is still working the way it should. And I think this is the mindset that Marcille has, which is why she seems so blase about it—she doesn’t think that she’s actually hurting people, it’s just a necessary part of the healing process. 

And in some ways, she just sees it as a realistic downside of the fact that you have to recover quickly in dungeon situations:

Normal recovery would take months. Healing magic shortens that to a few seconds. The pain is a result/tradeoff of forcing something that would naturally take a long time into such a short timespan. This all makes sense and is Right and Correct and Normal in Marcille's mind. It's not that she lacks empathy and doesn't care enough about not harming her patients: she doesn't think that it's "harm" at all.

Not a shred of guilt in that face before causing extreme pain. Contrast this to her constant fussing over Izutsumi on the smallest things—it's hard to believe she wouldn't even be a little apologetic if she actually believed this would be hurtful in a way that matters.

I think this is overall, less indicative of any lack of empathy so much as her incredibly stubborn and sometimes ridiculous way of compartmentalizing things to her own internal rules. I’d even argue that this mindset is preferable in surface situations, where people have the luxury of time. Dungeon healing hurts because it has to be fast and instantaneous—but if you're just treating a broken bone that can be put in a cast with slower healing magic to help, wouldn't you prefer that over an instant heal with the chance to cause brain damage, no matter how minuscule the chance is? Shouldn’t your long-term health matter more than short-term recovery and some pain?

To touch on Laios’s leg injury—we actually do see this kind of reaction to healing magic later on in the manga. When Marcille is teaching Laios how to heal, she ends up bowling him over because her cut gets super itchy:

but then she reacts positively and tells him that it's supposed to happen, before trusting him enough to try it on Senshi.

So while yes, it was an “incomplete” heal, I don’t think it was particularly telling about her approach to healing. And honestly, judging by the fact that it only distracted him when he was relaxed enough to be cleaning his armour before bed, it looks like she connected all the major muscles and nerves enough not to cause pain or risk re-injury by moving, but just left superficial stuff for Laios’s body to naturally heal. 

Her mindset makes sense in context: She also had to heal Chilchuck and Senshi, while conserving enough energy to immediately start digging for Falin’s body and potentially do a very taxing resurrection spell as soon as possible. 

After that, Falin healed the rest of Laios’s leg injury in a situation where it wasn’t needed, but there were no other high stakes to discourage it. Also, she can’t bear to see others in pain. ambrosiagourmet already did an incredible analysis of how this empathy doesn't really signify perfect altruism so much as Falin's deep discomfort with having to witness pain, so I won't go into that too much—but the important part is, Falin isn't inherently a more caring healer than Marcille. They are both making decisions for the patient based on their own approaches to healing—it's just that Falin's approach is preferable for dungeoneering overall.

(In Marcille's defense, it seems that dungeons are an incredibly specific environment that falls way outside the realm of what's actually taught to mages in most schools. Being a combat-oriented mage actually seems pretty frowned upon.)

So, in a lot of ways, Marcille is both realistic about dungeon healing (mana conservation by not doing full heals when not necessary, thinking about pain as the condensation of the time it would have taken to naturally heal, etc.) and very unrealistic about it. What she doesn’t realize is that the pain matters: In a dungeon, people have to be up and ready to continue right away, over and over. If it hurts every time, that makes them very averse to being healed, stressed out about getting injured, and affects their performance as dungeoneers.

All that to say… I personally believe that Marcille is very passionate about healing people. Not healing magic necessarily, but medicine as a whole. It’s not just a means to an end—it’s her main area of study only second to her research into ancient magic. And sure, she might have gotten into it because of her fear of death—but what I think people don’t give enough credit to is that her motivations changed from when she was a child. 

You see it here, when she’s laying her dream outright to the Winged Lion: 

She might be kinda racist herself, hypocritical, and short-sighted (mostly out of ignorance, I’d argue), but at heart, she hates that people hurt each other. She hates that long-lived races look down on everyone else just because of lifespan. She has—arguably very correctly—identified the disparity in lifespans as one of the main causes of interracial strife, and she wants to get rid of it so that everyone can fully understand and relate to each other as equals. 

And in some ways, it’s not even that insane of a dream. 

Knowing that people used to live as long as she’ll have to, and something changed in the eons since, is it really that weird for her to want to change it back somehow? 

But all that aside—the most important part of this to me is that… originally, she wasn’t actually that hung up on completely equalizing lifespans. She got into medicine because she wanted to, at the very least, close the gap as much as she could in her very long life. 

She was realistic about it at first. She thought that, by studying ancient magic’s ability to pull from the infinite, she could harness that infinite energy in tandem with medical knowledge to give more life to the short-lived races. 

But as she says it herself, it changed when she realized that she doesn’t have time to gradually unravel it on her own. 

So, yes. She got desperate. She got crazy. In light of all she did as dungeon lord, it’s easy to assume that she never cared much about healing as a profession, and is just a self-obsessed little girl caged by her trauma and trying to change the entire world to make sure she doesn’t have to be hurt. 

And… she is all that. She's my blorbo supreme but I'll be the first to insist that she is very much a complete hot mess. But my point is that these were very extreme circumstances, and Ryoko Kui has given us all the understated evidence we need to know that she’s actually a very passionate doctor otherwise. This is the girl who freaks out if she’s not useful to other people and not allowed to help:

Did actually get excited about making safe dungeons for helpful purposes beyond just learning more about ancient magic to fulfill her dream: 

And in tandem with her own personal trauma—not in opposition to it or to obscure it—cared about making life more peaceful and equal for everyone in the world. Not to mention, she had to have done some insane work to be acknowledged as the most talented researcher at the academy and be allowed onto teams that were researching new healing magics.

TL:DR, I think she has a lot of empathy for people and passion for helping them, it’s just expressed in a way you wouldn’t expect in a fantasy because Ryoko Kui doesn’t fuck around with her storytelling and genre subversion. She might not be a good archetypal healer, but she's an extremely knowledgeable doctor with a point-blank and intense attitude towards healing and medical treatment (see: her strictness about physical touch when teaching Laios about healing).

For me, all evidence points towards her going back to what she was doing before the story on top of her duties as Court Mage, kind of becoming a sort of Surgeon General for Melini as the head of health and safety for the country and whatnot. 

PS. I will admit that there's explicit evidence she's not good at healing here:

But this was also like... chapter 3. Written years ago. I personally feel that everything Kui has said about Marcille's background since is enough evidence that it was just a one-off joke before she had an airtight idea about who Marcille was and would be, but I'll concede that it's mostly conjecture.

But again, as I said, I believe that while she might not be the best at the heal spell that's used in Dungeons, she's passionate about being a medical researcher and the field of medicine as a whole.

[ask-nyc-boroughs]

Early Appalachian frontiersman Alfred in buckskin circa 1790- 1810s. I’m trying to figure out how to paint like NC Wyeth digitally (so lol the background is Wyeth’s).

Gonna ramble a bit about my nor’easter au and Alfred below the cut

Following the American Revolution, Alfred is immediately sent out to squash any rebellions (like whiskey rebellion) and to partake in wars against Indigenous nations like the Cherokee. I’ll save a discussion about the Cherokee wars for another time because that’ll take a long time to explain + I’m still working on my Cherokee oc and I need to understand Cherokee history and perspective more before I go forward with talking about this topic.

Now the many of the east coast states are older than Alfred, and they mostly supported him during the revolution because they thought he’d be easy to control given at the time of the revolution he wasn’t tied down as any colony or city. However, he was a New Englander and very obviously so

He was once Plymouth colony and he grew up alongside his cousin Henry/Massachusetts, but by the time the revolution occurred, his status was unclear and he was simply living with his cousin (who’s his earliest and most fierce supporter) .

These states operated like countries and part of why the had the revolution was to continue to self-govern and maintain their regional cultures. It’s also part of why the federal government initially was rather weak. Given Alfred’s closeness to his cousin, and his very staunch New England identity, I think the states would be hesitant over a strong New England national control. And so I think they especially Jennie/NY & Rich/Virginia encouraged Alfred to leave his cousin for a while, and partake in military campaigns (+ he was good at battle).

Also Alfred was like 14, and I don’t think he’s ever been the type to sit down and do paperwork. Honestly he was always a bad student, who was far more interested in the outdoors, horses, sailing and hunting. While he won the war, and he was fine with being head of state, he still didn’t 1) have confidence in himself to make non-military related decisions 2) he just wasn’t mentally ready to take on the responsibilities and was fine deferring it to his states like Jennie, Rich, or Henry to figure out matters that weren’t military related. He was irresponsible and it would come back to bite him in the ass during the Civil War.

Alfred on a personal level it was probably good for him to get away from his overly critical cousin who can be overbearing, but also so he would get more experience to deeply get to know his states.

Also Alfred, growing up in New England, he was a little ball of rage as a kid and he has a difficult time managing his emotions. He wasn’t exactly the personable seemingly fun loving Alfred of the present. Not that he couldn’t crack a joke, but ok I’m not from New England, but in the northeast I find we’re rather cynical, un-filtered and sarcastic and tbh kind of asssholes in the way we have fun and in our humor. That’s how he was, which is like fine unless you’re trying to appeal to the rest of the nation lol which he would have to

I think his time spent in Appalachia and the south did help him learn more about his other states especially Maisie/ North Carolina. But also helped him learn more how to let go some of this intense New England rage, and how to better control his emotions. But also let loose in a way that isn’t so dark and cynical. Also I think this helped him slowly learn how to speak with less of a New England specific accent

He was also able to observe states like Rich and Carl/ South Carolina and gain an understanding of how being able to control your emotions, can help control your image and how others perceive you. So these are the origins of how he slowly began to shape and become at least in public this overly friendly happy go lucky Alfred.

I’ll save a discussion about his interactions with the Appalachian states more explicitly another time I’m just tired😴 fr rn

[comfortless]

what's ur most unconventional Headcanon? like ones you have that most of the fandom doesn't agree with. mine is that I don't think h's 6'10, in my mind he's closer to 6'6 or 6'7. Also I don't think he would be the most caring bf 😶😶 like not abusive or anything, but to me he will almost always prioritize himself in the long run

HA… well….. i do not think any of mine are too strange! but i can not ever shush when someone has lent an ear to listen!!

warning for nsfw content, mentions of injury, and unhealthy relationship stuff below the cut.

i agree with you about his height. he’s significantly taller than Simon, but i would place him at 6’7”-6’8” max. i’m no health or military expert, but i do not think that he could do the work that he does efficiently if he were a complete Goliath. he would stand out so easily! and there are a slew of issues that can stem from someone being “too tall”. he probably doesn’t have the best posture, either.

i love the conventionally attractive, long-haired König headcanons, they’re fun! but ultimately… very, very unrealistic for my interpretation of König. i tend to side with Salome and Ghost when it comes to their takes on how he actually looks under the hood. his character description suggests that his face is scary, and judging by the game that he’s in, i do not think that the other operators are going to find some goth guy nor… Jim Boeven… to be worthy of such a rumor!

König’s face is always going to be a fluctuating thing for me, heavily dependent on the setting/time period i’m shoving him into or reading about. the thing that’s stuck with me however has always been facial scarring!! where he got it? who knows… i mentioned it on my headcanons post, but the cause is just as changing as his appearance.

i like the thought of him being a little different looking: crooked teeth, pockmarks, maybe a harelip or a broken nose, burn scars, something. maybe his hair is so light it simply looks as if he doesn’t have eyebrows. maybe a combination of all of those things! the less conventionally attractive the better, it’s not his face that had us scrambling from the rafters with our hearts in our hands, after all. though i am and always will be a glitched default face model König defender. it’s just so unbearably adorable to think of that soft, sad-eyed face making that much noise while he’s rushing around in battle. ):

and though i believe he would have the best intentions at heart… you are right, he is likely a very selfish lover. still hopelessly devoted and needy, but he would be the king of double standards. most decisions are made with his preferences in mind, and the bullying has stuck with him. König is insecure as hell when it comes to anything but his skills in killing or bashing through a door.

he likes the idea of you dressing up for him, but he’s also actively pulling up your dress/top to hide your cleavage if he even thinks another man may have glanced your way. yet… he will go to the gym shirtless, and if other women happen to ogle him, well it’s just fine because he didn’t notice them anyway.

you don’t like the house you’re living in when you move in together? well he does, you’re staying… he’ll just fix it up a little to better suit your needs. even if he screws up setting up a new counter or painting, that can all be fixed.

you want to go out with your friends? he should be allowed to come with you… spending time with you makes him happy. why wouldn’t you want him to come too? yet, when he wants time alone to focus on his aim, decompress with a book, or mess around with a vehicle or a house project, you’re expected to leave him be.

he’s too blunt about what he does for work, doesn’t bat an eye when he tells you he put a bullet through someone’s head and watched the spray. he’s so used to it, it doesn’t even faze him anymore, but… you don’t want to hear about it? oh that must mean you think he’s something filthy or worse. he’s not going to cry, but he might bring it up when you tell him about something you enjoy.

just ridiculous, petty things that would drive most up a wall, but he’s firm in whatever he decides. there’s always a little room for compromise, but not much without an argument.

he has his savings account and the house is in his name in case you decide to leave. it would gut him, of course, but a part of him also expects it.

he’s not above begging for you to stay, trying any way that he can to convince you, but… he’s never expected to have things handed to him easily. his childhood wasn’t the best, why would his adulthood be any better? the way he sees it is simple: he doesn’t hit you, his cock and heart are reserved solely for you, if you can’t love him enough to stay, then… maybe you’re not any different from the people he’s known before.

he’s self aware enough to know he can be a complete arschloch, thinks with his cock more than his brain, but he’s completely lost when it comes to matters like love. he wants to console you when you cry, when you’re angry, but asking you a dozen times just why you feel such a way while squishing you into a too-tight embrace doesn’t help much. his search history is filled with things like “why is my girlfriend mad at me” or “how to make a woman stop ignoring me”. his communication toward you isn’t great, but he tries in his own way. very easy to break an argument up when he tells you some silly, scripted thing like, “I’m here for you. I’m listening.” when under normal circumstances he’s staring at you with wide-eyes and swallowing hard the very second you seem a little ruffled. you tell him to stop reciting some guide he read online, and he’s immediately worried sick you’re going to think him a complete fool, in utter denial about ever having searched something like that up.

can’t see him as being god’s gift to women in the bedroom at all. König has probably watched a lot of porn. he doesn’t care for the scripted, practiced stuff, but his tastes have always been a little odd. the amateur, solo stuff is what piques his interest the most. he knows a vibrator can make a woman come, knows that a dildo can be nice too if she sets the pace. what he’s watched with a proper couple, well… the men are always smaller than him. the terms and dynamics are lost on him, he knows what a safe word is and that he should be a gentleman and make sure his partner finishes too, but each time that’s happened has been a miracle really. he’s not a virgin, but he’s never had a partner long enough to bother learning. if he can make you feel good and vice versa, that’s enough, right..?!

he’s not going to bludgeon you with his dick, he knows he’s a bit too big and thick to just fuck you recklessly, but often times he does get excited or fretful— too deep or too shallow, flicks your clit like it’s indestructible or keeps his head between your thighs waaay after you’ve already come. he’ll stop when you ask, when you’re teary eyed and overstimulated repeating the ridiculous German word he makes you use. not above begging you to use your hand on him instead, though…

switching positions is difficult if you’re a lot smaller than him. he’s not against having you on your knees, but he wants to be so close, pant into your ear about how good you feel, smother you with his weight all the while. missionary is a nightmare because he’s drooly and comes far too quickly when he can see your face and overpower you like this, cue further squishing even after he’s done; you’re likely going to be lying beneath him all night. cowgirl seems to work best, though he’s a bit too fond of having your tits so accessible - expect biting!!

when i try to think of König with any sort of hobby my mind just blanks. i think he would try a lot, but never stick to one thing! he’s got a few sporadic collections, but nothing he keeps up with to the same caliber as his guns and knives. books are often half-finished these days, keeping focused long enough to sit through a puzzle or the like is rare. definitely longs to have something for comfort that isn’t some winding trail to no where or suffocating you in himself to just have a hint of what it feels like to be entirely happy and ‘normal’.

he’s become a bit of an amalgamation of all of the things he liked as a child: knights with their swords he thinks of as his knives, deities with bolts of thunder cascading from their hands like the bullets from his guns, loves in the way he read men of myths fall in love - utterly unfathomably devoted but always the leader… if he could he would probably whisk himself and the object of his affection to another place entirely where he could be someone deserving: someone who’s loved despite the way that he looks or behaves, someone who’s never had to question what love was at all.

[cer-rata]

Fic WIP: "“No One Majored In Chemistry (snip #2)"

Damian crossed his arms. “Hello, ‘Champion.’ Is this really necessary?”

Billy shook him by his cape. “I swear I will drop you.”

“You think a fall from this height would kill me?”

“Ten stories? Yes?”

“Ha.” Damian pulled his legs up and crossed them in mid-air to make it look like he was casually sitting, and not being dangled over Gotham. “Anyway, you’re doing this wrong, you’re supposed to pose a question before threatening to drop me. You’d have to threaten to drop me anyway of course, but the order of operations is important if you don’t want to look like a complete psycho.”

Billy hissed. “Damian--”

“Now, if you don’t have a question and just desire to jerk me around, well I must remind you that I am in a committed relationship, and just because he’s not around right now, doesn’t mean--”

“WHY DID YOU TELL MY ROOMMATE WHAT MY DEAL WAS!?” 

Damian froze, and the smug smirk awkwardly fell from his face. “Oh. Uh. Listen--”

“MMMHMMM?!”

“It was an…accident?”

“An accident? An accident? How do you explain my entire shtick by accident?!”

Damian winced and looked away. “I was…under the influence…”

Billy stared at him. “...What…?”

“Not like, recreationally, I don’t--Blockbuster threw me into a brick wall hard enough to aggravate the spine thing.”

“What spine thing--”

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I was on a lot of morphine when he came to visit and started talking about his room assignment, and I…I must have just started rambling when he mentioned you by name. I…apologize.”

Billy sighed and picked him up properly (like an infant, because he knew Damian would hate that) and landed on a nearby roof. He set Damian down gently and crossed his arms. “Look…fine. You could have given me a heads up.”

“I could have.” Damian admitted. “I got a little distracted with the murder.”

Billy groaned. It was always some kind of messed up homicide in Gotham. “What murder?”

Damian pulled his mask off and rubbed his eyes. “Conrad’s deceased ex-boyfriend’s mother had her eyes stolen. I…think she was dead before they were removed, but I’m not…entirely sure.” 

Billy’s eyes widened. That sounded like black magic.

“I agree.” Solomon said, “Likely for some kind of cruel augury, or perhaps, more simply due to something those eyes had witnessed.” 

“...Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Um. You know you really can just call me up if you need--”

“No offense, Batson, but wisdom or not, you’re not exactly known for your detective skills.”

“Unless it’s a magic thing, I’m pretty good with those.”

“...A magic thing.”

“I mean, sure, it’s Gotham, maybe there is a weirdo out there stealing eyeballs, but you didn’t say it was a part of a series of murders right?”

“...I didn’t, no.”

“Right, so generally when someone steals an important body part from a seemingly random person, it’s probably for some messed up ritual. Eyes have a lot of significance.”

Damian cursed under his breath. “In retrospect it’s...obvious. I hate you.”

Billy smiled weakly. “Yeah. Um. Listen though I’m sorry, I’m sure this is rough for you personally--”

“I don’t know how I’m going to explain it when he gets back.” Damian muttered, with an uncharacteristic rawness. He blinked a couple of times and raised his mask towards his face like he was about to put it back on, before stopping and letting his hands fall back to his waist.

“...Anyway, um. You’re here about Garth. I suppose I could attempt to rectify my breach of confidence with…an exchange of information?”

Billy watched for a moment. He caught Damian subtly shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he did as a fidget that most people wouldn’t recognize. One of his three visible, rare anxiety responses. He’s really not okay.

“SHAZAM!” Suddenly Billy was at a height with Damian, but much less well built, he couldn’t help but notice that. 

Damian frowned. “What--”

“I can see your eyes, it’s only fair that you can see mine.” 

Damian glared and looked away. “Stop that--”

“Damian--”

“You’re not here about me, so let’s not--”

“Damian--”

“If you’d like to dangle me again over a freeway or something, I think I’d prefer that to--”

He flinched when Billy put his hands on his shoulders. “Yeah, I do want to know what Garth’s deal is, but that can wait a minute. You wanna talk about it?”

“There is no ‘it’ to talk about, and if there were you know I wouldn’t want to.” Damian tried to make it an irritated hiss, but really, he just sounded like he was deflating. 

“Wisdom of Solomon says that if Conrad gets back and finds out that we’ve let you be isolated and sad the whole summer, he will likely start picking us off one-by-one.” Billy wiggled his eyebrows and Damian groaned. 

“Well…well that seems like a you problem--”

“Bro.”

“What do you want me to say!?”

“Something!”

“There is no guarantee that I will say what you want me to say unless--”

Billy pushed him as hard as he could, and Damian did not move in the slightest. They stared at each other for a moment before Billy let out a loud sigh.

Damian giggled, though. “...Really?”

“You’re annoying!”

“Maybe so. Billy there’s nothing you can do, alright? I’m…figuring things out.”

“This is more than just being lonely?”

“Being lonely is easy, I could teach classes on it. You know, apparently Brazil--”

“Then what is it?”

Damian fidgeted. “I’m…poorly acquainted with regret. Usually it’s easy for me to accept reality and move on, often enough that’s all you can do, if suicide is off the table. But…I don’t know. It’s different this time, I suppose. It’s probably because I can’t listen to him babble on about something stupid to make it easier to pretend that he’s alright. It’s hard to sit in silence and try not to realize that in the math of it all, I’ve probably made his life a lot worse. And he loves me for it. Hell, he only keeps the ring because he’s worried that if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to help me if he needs to. Now he’s off in space in some bootcamp run by crazy alien amazons, agonizing because he wants to be better for me. It’s sick.”

“I don’t think that’s accurate, and I don’t think you actually believe he’d be happier without you in his life.”

Damian ran a hand through his hair, getting gel on his glove in the process. “The entire point of all of this is that we do this work so other people don’t have to. I could have been in his life without letting him throw himself into the crossfire! I didn’t…I couldn’t conceptualize a relationship with someone on the outside, I think. I was uncomfortable with having to be a regular person around him, so I took the first opportunity to pull him in.”

Billy slid his hands up Damian’s shoulders and cupped his cheeks, appreciating Damian not biting him for it. 

“He’s allowed to make his own choices, even if those choices are hard for him, even if they make you happy.”

Damian’s lips twisted. “...He said he thought it was wrong for people to train me to live like I do, that I could be more, that I could make other choices, that I could move on. He believes it enough that he was willing to die to give me the chance to try. He doesn’t get the irony. Idiot.”

Billy looked up at the stars and took a deep breath. “It was kind of messed up to make me the Champion.” He said, looking back into Damian’s eyes, noting the surprise there. “I was a little kid, in a bad place without a lot of options. I didn’t understand what I was agreeing to, how could I? It made a lot of things…hard. Really hard. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t make a choice like that on a whim, you know? But I still wouldn’t take it back, even thinking about how…how long I’m going to be doing this, or the terrible things I’ve seen, or the awful secrets I know. To me, it’s worth it, because I can say that I, William Batson--”

“Ew--”

“Shut up! I can say that I’ve made some stuff better for other people. People who needed me, people I care about. It’s a gift delivered badly. So he’s right: It IS messed up that we didn’t get to choose. But he did, and he did it out of love. You can’t take that away from him, you just have to accept it, and accept that it’s okay that he picked you to be his person. Because it is. He thinks I’m cute, so clearly his taste has to be fairly decent.”

Damian shut his eyes and shook his head, laughing. “You’re a damn fool.”

“And not a psychic, so you need to, you know, text a guy. Okay? No one wants you to turn into your dad.”

“Wooooow.”

“Sorry.”

Damian snorted. “Alright, you either get a hug or I give you some background on Garth, you do not get both.”

He clearly did not expect Billy to go for the hug.

Which was probably why Billy felt his chest heave a little, and his throat made a weird little noise that one could perhaps describe as a sob.

[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 07 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06  07 08 09

Wordcount: 7.9k

Warnings: some violence in this one, vague references to drugging at a club (not to reader), feelings

Notes: thank you for your patience, beautiful people!! let's goooo.

---

If Steve looked inward for more than a spare second, he could unpack the heavy feelings that sat on his chest. But, he wouldn’t allow himself even that miniscule moment in time to think. Instead, it suddenly made way more sense to throw himself into work - from selling buildings to working on art curation to all the dirty things he did behind the scenes. If he wasn’t working, he was sleeping or working out or drinking at Shield. 

On this particular day, he was taking care of new business.

“What did we fucking say about selling this shit in Brooklyn?”

Steve almost felt bad for the guy he was slamming his fist into. Steve had absolutely broken his nose, maybe cracked his jaw. 

But, Steve had the upper hand here. The shithead was tied up to a metal chair, in the basement of one of Steve’s oldest properties. 

Thor had picked the guy up selling products near Brighton Beach. It was the third idiot working for Rumlow that had been caught crossing boundaries and pushing their new formula. It was one thing to not converse with Steve and confirm his cut. It was another to prey on high school kids. 

Steve reached for the guy's collar. “Do you need a reminder?”

He growled under Steve’s fist. “Your precious kingdom is going to crumble.” The man sucked in a breath and leaned forward, spitting a mournful of blood at Steve. 

Although electricity was climbing through every inch of Steve’s body, he remained stoic. Slowly, he wiped off the remnants of blood from his neck and shirt. Then Steve took in a sharp breath and delivered a kick to the man’s chest, sending the chair stumbling backward to the ground. With a clap of his hands, he turned around and pointed at Thor and Bucky. Both men were watching from the doorway of the dingy basement. 

“Call your brother and tell him to peel this man apart for information about Rumlow’s operation.” Steve planted a hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“I’m on it, boss. But Loki will want cash and—”

“Pay him whatever he needs.” Steve finished off, confirming with a nod before leaving with Bucky. “Make sure he gets rid of the body afterwards.”

Bucky remained silent as he followed Steve up the stairs, matching his pace as they headed towards an awaiting car outside. It wasn’t until they were well on their way back to the club, in the thick of traffic that Bucky spoke up. 

“You good?”

Steve, who had been staring out the window, turned his head back to his friend. “I’m fine.”

“Because usually you let the boys get dirty.” Bucky pointed out the remaining marks of blood that littered Steve’s chest. “And calling in Laufeyson..”

“I want to clean up this fucking mess that’s found it’s way into our streets, Bucky. Don’t you think I know what I’m doing?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. Don’t fucking yell at me, too. Christ. You’re wound up because you made a mistake. Don’t take it out on us.”

Steve didn’t even bother replying. Because Bucky was right. 

Steve was angry. At himself. 

--

God, you were grateful for your friends. If you didn’t have them in your corner, you knew that everything with Steve might have sunk you down way further than you wanted. In fact, you knew damn well that if you let yourself slow down and think for a few minutes, the pain you had been so easy to dismiss might come roaring back to life.

But, there wasn't time to slow down. Not when your evenings became a delicate balance of work, walking Hercules then meeting up for some sort of exciting activity in the city. 

Pietro certainly had a penchant for finding fun things to do. Somehow he had a better pulse of the city than you and your friends who actually lived there. Your group chat was constantly buzzing with suggestions about markets to check out or special nights at certain bars or clubs or after party events with Pietro’s coworkers. 

It was a welcome distraction most days. But other days, all you wanted to do was have a pity party on your own. Even though you knew you deserved better than the way Steve had called things off, part of you kept wondering about how it all played out. One night after a night out with your friends and one too many glasses of white wine, you had gone into a deep, dark Instagram spiral.

Steve himself didn’t have any kind of personal social media presence. But someone managed one for his gallery and another one for Shield too. You scrolled through every post for a glimpse of him and every time some version of him showed up in a photo, your heart got a little more cracked open. 

Once you made it through the entire main feed of images, you dug deeper. The tagged photos for Shield had plenty of activity, including a recent slew of images from a weekend event at the club. One photo had Steve in it - you were sure, though he wasn’t facing the camera. It was in the background of some beautiful brunette’s photo and you knew it was upstairs in one of the VIP areas of Shield.

You were going crazy over it. Why did he have to end it the way he did? How come you didn’t get any other conversation or closure over the whole thing?

After a long day at work and an extra long walk home with Hercules, you had decided it was time for a night in. Thankfully you hadn’t heard any activity in the group chat all day, so you were very much looking forward to some time on the couch with your favourite bowl of pasta. 

Just as you got home, a crack of thunder sounded out and you knew a summer storm was imminent. You wouldn’t consider yourself someone who romanticized the rain - in fact, you hated thunderstorms. Since childhood you had connected storms to danger and darkness, and although now you were at home safe in your own apartment, you had never felt more alone and unsettled.

You remedied the uncomfortable feelings as best as you could - quickly calling your mother to talk while you made dinner. And when you had finally plated your food, you dropped onto the couch with Hercules and sent out an SOS to the group chat.

Claire was at work. Maria was at home uptown in Manhattan, waiting out the storm. And Wanda revealed she was out on a date with Vision, hiding out from the rain at some lavish restaurant uptown.

You groaned. Your lights flickered.

In an attempt to calm down, you tried to lose yourself in some reruns of your favourite show. It wasn’t working very well - especially with an anxious Hercules at your side who was not enjoying the storm outside, either.

Looks like you had to be the strong one, for the sake of your son.

“We’re gonna be okay, buddy,” you cooed as you cuddled in close to Hercules. “This storm shall pass or whatever.”

Your moment of wisdom was cut off when your phone started to buzz on the coffee table. You picked it up to see Pietro’s face on the screen.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey!” He called out on the other end of the phone. You could hear the rain. “I’m a block away. Please tell me you have dry towels?” 

You stood up and shook your head, confused. Had you made plans that you forgot about? Most weeknights Pietro was at the restaurant until close and–

“Wanda said you hate storms and we lost power at the restaurant. So I’m coming over to hang! I have desserts.”

He didn’t even let you argue, doubling down on the rain and how he wanted to hang out. It was strange though - of course you considered Pietro your friend, you just had never hung out one on one before. You hadn’t really assumed you were friends like that - moreso that you were friends with Wanda and he came along with that transaction. But you really enjoyed being around him. Pietro’s extraversion benefited you regularly and well, you definitely did not want to be alone in the storm anyway.

You greeted Pietro at the door with a dry towel, although his was in good spirits despite his damp clothing. 

“You didn’t have to come over,” you told him as you unpacked the paperbag he had brought from the restaurant. “I’m surviving.”

“Sure. But who else can I talk to about this boring philosophical PhD my sister is dating again?” Pietro flashed you his signature charming smile, peeling off his wet sweater and following your arms to toss it in your dryer. “What kind of name is Vision anyway?”

“I only met him once or twice,” you replied with a small smirk. “They really hit it off - though she never said why they had ruptured in the first place.”

“Well, as her older brother, I’m cautious. I deserve to know about the guy, it’s giving me even more grey hair to think about her dealing with some dumb man.”

You laughed. “Aren’t you like - 10 minutes older?”

“Twelve, actually.” He turned and headed back towards the counter. “This is for you by the way - packaged up by M’Baku himself.”

Glancing down at the to-go box, containing a particularly delectable slice of cheesecake, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “What?”

On more than one occasion you, Wanda and occasionally Maria or Claire had headed to the restaurant past closing to hang out while Pietro and his coworkers finished up for the evening. Mostly you sat at the bar and sipped on a cocktail while the kitchen crew finished up. A few nights ago, you had done exactly that and after the restaurant was closed, instead of heading out like you had planned, you all stayed and played cards and shared a few of the leftover dishes. Somehow, one of the kitchen staff had sat with you - the prep cook, M’Baku - and if you had been in a clear state of mind and heart, you might have thought you and him had hit it off.

M’Baku had probably even been flirting with you. But since Steve had crushed your confidence, you had a hard time believing that was possible. 

“He also asked me for your number,” Pietro added in, breaking you from your thoughts as you both sat back on the couch again. “If you want, I can text him right now and..”

You sighed. “I don’t know if I want to… do that. Date or.. Even think about dating. This is really nice of him, though.” With a glide of your fork, you grabbed a corner of the cake and smiled. “Reallllly nice.”

“You don’t have to date the guy,” Pietro countered, tipping his head to the side to meet your gaze. “Nothing wrong with having a little harmless fun.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Unfortunately, I was not blessed with a harmless fun gene, unlike you and Wanda.” You nudged him with your elbow. “The cheesecake is great though. Tell him thanks!”

---

“Are you sure this outfit is restaurant soft open slash after party appropriate?” 

Wanda rolled her eyes at you in the mirror, shooting you a smile. “Piet said it was casual. Don’t overthink it.” She finished off fixing her lipstick and turned. “You look great.”

Now you were rolling your eyes. You had picked out a casual summer dress to combat the heat, but you still weren’t sure. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but after everything with Steve, all your confidence and self esteem hadn't really recovered. The way he had talked to you with such promise and excitement about your body, only to… 

No, no. It wasn’t fair to do that to yourself. You had to try and let it go. You had a fun night ahead.

Although your exciting social lives had slowed down a bit, Pietro still managed to talk you into some after work activities. On this particular Friday, you and Wanda were meeting up with him to visit some new restaurant that had recently opened. Surprising to no one, Pietro had befriended the guy who supplied their restaurant all their alcohol and the guy had gotten Pietro an invite to some soft opening event. Pietro and a few plus ones, even.

You slipped into your shoes and watched as Wanda finished pacing around her apartment gathering her things. “Where are we going anyway?” 

Wanda glanced down at her phone. “He just sent me the location - somewhere in Bedstuy I guess. C’mon, we can get the next train.”

When you got off the subway and started towards whatever address Wanda was following in her phone, a weird little twist of discomfort swirled in the pit of your stomach. No, it couldn’t be possible. Sure, you were in your old neighbourhood. And yes, if you turned down the next street on the right you’d –

“It’s down here,” Wanda tipped her head down that next street on the right.

Wilson’s Kitchen.

You slowed your feet down nearly and finally came to a complete stop before you approached the restaurant. Noooo. No. The last time you had been down this street, outside of this exact building - a car had come barreling off the sidewalk and changed your life.

You let out a silent groan, shaking your head as you saw Pietro and some people from his restaurant wave to you from outside the place.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder, reaching for your hand. “Come on.” She didn’t know all the details and you didn’t have the time or ability to explain it all now. Of course it had to be this restaurant - that Steve owned. Wilson’s… you recognized that as Sam’s last name, but wondered what the connection was?

You wanted to throw up. What if Steve was inside?

“You alright?” It was Pietro who paused as everyone else headed in before you two.

“Yeah..” You took a deep breath. “It’s a long story. Just might need some emotional support here tonight.”

He raised a curious eyebrow but gave you a pointed nod. “Okay, got it. Keep your secrets but did I mention it’s an open bar at least?”

You took a deep breath and decided that you could do hard things, you could do uncomfortable things. Steve didn’t matter! You deserved to live your own best life. You took Pietro’s awaiting hand. “Oh, lead the way then.”

-

As soon as you got inside, you were somehow taken from Brooklyn into a cool bistro from the French Quarter. Pietro gave you a quick low down on the place - a New Orleans fusion menu inspired by the chef’s upbringing in Delacroix. There was trendy exposed brick paired with iron accents and even supplemented by a generous jazzy ambiance floating through the air.

You met up with Wanda who had found a seat at the bar. The rest of the place was quite packed. Servers zipped around the room with trays of food, stopping by the bustling tables and delivering drinks to guests. There wasn’t a set menu or agenda for the evening, but you had to be honest with your friends before things got out of hand.

“Okay, Wan.” You grabbed her hand, sparing a quick glance around the room. “Steve owns this place. If you see him, please give me fair warning.”

“Wait. Who is Steve?” Pietro had planted himself behind you both, waving a hand to the bartender for a few cocktails.

“A dumb man!” Wanda summarized quickly, turning directly in her seat to scan the crowds too. 

“A dumb man I dated a while back..” You squished your face, then tried to shake away all your thoughts. “He was a jerk at the end.”

“Boooo..” Pietro threw his arm around you and squeezed. “There is still time for me to give your number to–”

“No, no.” You grabbed his hand where it sat on your shoulder. “Let’s just have fun, okay? No more thoughts about Steve.”

You had a perfectly lovely night. The food you sampled was incredible and the drinks were damn delicious. You even had the opportunity to meet Sarah, the head chef - who gushed about the evolving menu and how excited she was to have community kitchen days on the weekend to feed the neighborhood. 

“It is a great location,” you replied, pivoting slightly in your stool to speak with her. Wanda and Pietro had ducked outside for some air.  “I used to live a few blocks from here.”

Before you got any further, someone was saddling up beside her, dropping a hand over her shoulder. “Great turnout, sis.”

You offered Sam an awkward smile as he realized you two had been talking. He faltered for a second, glancing over his shoulder before finally giving you a greeting. “Oh, hey. It’s.. good to see you.” Sarah seemed to take this as an opportunity to excuse herself back to the kitchen, so you had to continue with Sam on your own.

“A friend of mine had an invite.” For some reason you felt you had to immediately defend yourself, even though he didn’t ask why you were there.

Sam let out a long breath and lifted a shoulder to shrug. “Listen, I don’t need to repeat the speech about how much of a fucking idiot Steve is.” He sighed then leaned back to the end of the restaurant. “He is here though, with a group in the back dining room.”

You tried not to give yourself away with your body language, but suddenly you felt even more on edge than you had before. You hadn’t seen Steve yet and it didn’t mean you were going to see him now. But knowing he was only a few walls away from you.. Well, it both worried you and also it seemed to stoke that weird feeling in your stomach into fiery anger.

“Thanks for the heads up, Sam.” 

“Sam! What’s the hold up? Did you get a hold of Sean?”

Then, like some stick twist of fate, a quiet commotion started out of the back room. You couldn’t help but turn on your stool again and look in that direction along with Sam.

And there, sticking his head out the door with a big grin on his face, as waves of laughter and clinking glasses sounded out behind him, was Steve. Even though you could only see part of his torso, you knew he was probably donning some sharp suit jacket and you wanted to scream.

It felt like time slowed down as you met Steve’s eyes - though he was far away, it felt like he was looking right into your soul. His jaw stilled, then snapped shut and before either of you really had a moment to process what was happening, you looked away and rushed to your feet. 

You mumbled out some rushed goodbye to Sam then immediately headed outside to find Wanda and Pietro.

They were standing near the front window - Wanda with a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other. Pietro glanced up from his own phone when you shuffled up beside them. He raised an eyebrow at your distressed face.

You took a deep breath. “I saw Steve.”

Wanda turned and dropped her cigarette, stomping it out and reaching for your hand. “Auuugh. But you survived, babe. Shit. Are you okay? Does he look terrible?”

You just shrugged. “No, he looked great. Even from afar.” A dramatic groan left the pit of your stomach. “God, he’s the worst.”

Wanda’s phone started to buzz and she glanced from it to the street. “Ah, Vis is here. We were gonna go to.. Let me just send him off.”

“No, no.” You squeezed her hand. “Just go. I’ll call an Uber.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home,” Pietro jumped in, giving Wanda a quick side hug. “Have fun! Be safe!”

Wanda pretended to falter for a second, then threw her arms around you before darting off to the awaiting car. 

You let out another long sigh and leaned against the nearest wall, shaking your head as Pietro stepped in front of you. “I think I need to head home - but you can stay, I’ll be fine.”

He watched you closely. “I’m sorry. For whatever that asshole said to you - for you to feel this way now. You’re a catch.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you. “I don’t think I am, but I appreciate your kindness, Piet.” Behind you both, a pair of black SUVs pulled up. They were definitely Steve’s. “Augh, I need to get out of here.”

Pietro looked over his shoulder at the vehicles, then back into the restaurant through the window. “Or.. wait. Is that his ride? He has to come out this way?” 

You could see some sort of plan was forming in his head. “What are you scheming about now?”

Pietro grinned, taking a step closer to you. “Harmless fun, my friend. Flirt with me?”

“What?” Your eyes grew wide. “We can’t. You don’t actually want to..”

“Miláčik, please. If that dumb idiot man is going to walk out here, let him see you perfectly distracted by someone else without a care in the world.”

“Piet, there are so many other girls I’m sure you’d rather flirt with.”

“No, actually. I would love to flirt with you. But my sister said I cannot date her friends and I’m going back to Sokovia in a month or so..” He took in a deep breath and stepped forward, tentatively reaching a hand out to rest on your waist. “If neither of us want to date, at least let’s..”

The door opened and suddenly, you didn’t have time to even process Pietro’s words. Instead, you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him as close to you as possible. And, well, he wasted no time trailing his lips against your neck as one hand wrapped around your waist. The other he used to cradle against your jaw.

“Can you see him?” Pietro whispered against your neck, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I don’t really care about that man but if this helps you..”

You tried not to make your shifting eyes very obvious but yes, in the large group of people walking out of Wilson’s Kitchen, just ten feet away from you - there was Steve. 

He met your eyes again, extending his arm for someone else to get into the car before him. But this time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you scratched your hand against Pietro’s neck and laughed.

Time slowed down again as Steve eventually tore his eyes from yours, ducking his head to get into the back of the vehicle.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the cars finally pulled away. 

With a firm pat, you tried to bring Pietro back to earth. He lingered close enough to you that your lips were nearly touching. He grinned. “Sorry if that was too much.”

“It was..” You relaxed your shoulders and leaned back again, resting your forehead against Pietro’s. “..exactly what I needed.” A silly shield, a defensive mechanism against Steve.

He laughed, quiet. “Good. I’m glad. And is there anything else you might need tonight?”

“Just someone to get me home safely. And maybe..” Leap of faith, leap of faith. “We flirt some more. At home. On my couch.”

-

You knew you were making a choice. God, when was the last time you had been the one to suggest going to a club on a Saturday night? You could practically hear Maria rolling her eyes on the other side of the phone, but you knew she’d be on board. Claire was immediately into the plan too, and it only took a few more minutes to get Wanda and Pietro in on the event.

And the fact that you suggested Shield, of all places, as your location of choice. Well, that was just a coincidence. If Steve happened to be there, then so be it. It had been months now since you’d broken up and a few weeks since the night at the restaurant, and you knew it was time to move the fuck on. You could go places that Steve might be at. You’d be fine.

It didn’t make you any less nervous, though. The idea of running into him wasn’t exactly something that thrilled you. What if you saw him with another girl? That would hurt. Or worse, what if he just… 

No, no. This wasn’t about Steve. This was about taking yourself back and leaving him behind. 

“Okay, the Uber will be here in four minutes!” Pietro loved being the motivator and sometimes it meant very bad decisions. In this particular instance, it meant one last shot of sour raspberry liqueur before you got to the club. 

You cheers’d your friends, taking one last glance in the mirror by your door and calling out your goodbye to Hercules as you all clambered to the front lobby. 

“You look amazing, did I tell you that?” Claire nudged you with her arm as you lingered outside. “You’ll drive him crazy.” You just laughed, letting the buzz of the alcohol overtake you like a warm blanket. She was right - you did look good. The dress you picked was definitely in your comfort zone but it showed off everything you wanted on display. And your hair had fallen exactly where you wanted it to.

You looked hot. 

Steve Rogers, eat your heart out.

When you got to the front of the line at the club, you immediately regretted the entire plan. And when you met the eyes of the bouncer at the door, Luke, who greeted you with a big smile, you wanted to run in the opposite direction.

“Nice to see you, sunshine,” Luke greeted as he handed you back your ID. “Have a fun night. Don’t get into trouble, alright?”

“That man is a brick house,” Claire laughed, looking over her shoulder back at him when you got inside. “I’d like to know everything about him.”

“Stop that,” you laughed as you looped your arm with hers, following behind Wanda, Pietro and Maria who were heading towards the bar. “He works for Steve.”

“Of course,” Claire nodded, as her grin grew even louder. “You’ve gotta get me in touch with that man later, please.”

“What about Matt?” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing too as you pushed your way closer to your friends as they got to the bar.

“Off again, currently.” Claire sidled up beside Pietro and waved towards the nearest bartender. 

Luckily, you didn’t see Kate or Yelena behind the bar, so you’d be saved from those interactions. Instead, the bartender was someone you didn’t recognize and thankfully they didn’t even look twice at you as Pietro passed out the newly poured drinks. Once you were all sufficiently back into the tipsy but edging on drunk mood, the dance floor was your destination.

God, Pietro was fun. You didn’t have any regrets about how things had gone this summer, that almost whatever that didn’t happen after the restaurant quietly dissipated. Okay, you did make out hard that night - but then you pulled back and sent him on his way home. And the best part, it hadn’t been weird afterwards. You went back to normal, as friends, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for his distraction. Maybe in another life where he actually lived on the same continent as you - things could have been different. But if you thought too hard about it, you also knew you had just been using him to not think about Steve. And that wasn’t fair either. So instead, you decided that having platonic male friends was okay. And if Pietro wanted to dance with you, that’s all it had to mean. 

And Pietro loved to dance.

It wasn’t hard to lose track of time on the dance floor - occasionally a pair would head back to the bar and deliver shots or drinks, but you all mostly sang loud and danced hard. God, your friends were fun - it was mostly a comfortable environment in your own little bubble and the only hands that landed on you were usually from Claire or Pietro. 

You did check in with the real world - glancing around the room to be aware of your surroundings and on more than one occasion you glanced up towards the VIP areas upstairs. 

And although you were trying not to give a fuck about Steve, when you saw him up there standing near the railing, your heart jolted. The view was brief as he stepped away, probably heading to the upstairs bar. 

“Fuck that guy!” Pietro yelled out, pulling your attention back down. 

“She already did,” Claire announced with a big laugh, planting a kiss on your cheek. “You know the only good way to get over him is to get under someone else.”

You laughed along and threw your arms over your friends. Maybe that was true but finding someone to date seemed absolutely awful. Dancing was easier, you didn’t want to think about Steve or dating or anything. 

Suddenly, the back and forth about getting over Steve disappeared. Just a few feet from where you all were dancing, you had a feeling something bad was happening. Your mind was racing as you watched some brute of a man holding up a young girl, helping her walk out of the busy crowd. But it didn’t feel right - the way she tried pushing away from his chest, head lolling to the side. 

“Hey!” Reaching for Claire’s hand, you searched the nearby area to see if anyone else could see what was happening. 

Claire followed your eyes and frowned. “Shit.” She pulled ahead from you and sprung into action. 

“Pietro!” You turned your head and grabbed his shoulder. “Go find a bouncer, fast!” Though you could see he was confused, he nodded and rushed away. 

You caught up with Claire, who was trying to gently get the girl away from the larger man. “Hey, honey. Hi. Do you know this guy?” 

“We’re good here, leave us alone!” The man barked at Claire. “She’s fine. We’re heading out.”

You shuffled over, trying to put yourself between them as Claire tugged the girl away. You reached your hand out to stop the guy from coming closer again. “Leave her alone!”

“Where am I..” The girl mumbled as Claire helped her to stand, moving her hand up to try and steady the girl as Claire looked in her eye. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Do you know that guy?” Claire asked. The girl shook her head. 

A loud snort came from the man. “Jesus Christ, she just agreed to come home with me.”

As he tried to move towards her again, you pressed a hand against his chest to stop him. “Get away from her.”

“Stay out of it, you fat bitch!” He pushed you away, backwards into the crowd as he rushed towards Claire and the girl instead. 

Maybe it was the alcohol surging through your or just your general rage at the male population, but as you found your footing once more, you just went for it. Although the entire scene was turning into a spectacle, you hurried forward and yanked on the guy's shoulder to stop him. 

With a snap of his neck, he turned towards you and growled. “Jesus Christ, don’t you know when to quit?” He grabbed your shoulder then stomped down, smashing his boot onto your foot. “Dumb fucking bit—”

This time when he pushed you back, you landed against someone’s chest. No, someone was pulling you away. 

“Hey, hey - take it easy!” 

Steve. 

Ahead of you, more chaos was unfolding. Sam and Bucky were suddenly fighting the man through the crowd, fists flying as they shouted. Pietro had reappeared with Luke, immediately rushing both Claire and the girl through the bar to some back room. 

“Are you okay?” Steve’s voice came from behind you. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and shit, were you shaking?

“Hands off,” you finally replied, pulling away from him. He immediately dropped his arms, holding his hands up in defense. You took a step forward then hissed in pain

“Fuck.” You glanced down at your foot, though you could barely see it in the dark lights of the club. It fucking hurt though. 

“Let me help you,” Steve shifted and offered a hand to you. “Please.”

You strained your neck to try and find Pietro or Maria or Wanda, but they seemed to have disappeared too. Begrudgingly, you accepted Steve’s arm under yours as you limped away from the dance floor. 

-

Even if Luke hadn’t messaged Steve to report that you were waiting in line outside, Steve would have spotted you in the crowd. 

Because it was you. 

Your entire being had left an imprint on him and he couldn’t stop himself from searching any crowded room for you, still. Months had gone by since he had hit self destruct but he couldn’t get you off his mind. 

Even though Meredith Russo had been hanging off him throughout the night, Steve’s radar remained on you. Especially whenever anyone got close to you, including that silver haired dude. The way he danced against you, how he made you laugh and blush - it drove Steve mad. He was certain it was the same guy who had his hands all over you outside the restaurant too. Fuck, he hadn’t like that that either.

He considered, briefly, just leaving the club and heading home for the rest of the night. But the moment he saw you, something told him to stay. He did, however, try not to spend his entire night watching you from afar. Especially when he noticed one of your friends looking up towards his section. 

Instead, he focused on only watching from the balcony every now and then. Everytime he refreshed his drink, or got up to greet a guest, he would throw a subtle look downwards to the dance floor. 

Yep, there you were. Still dancing, smiling, not a care in the world. 

Fuck. 

This was what he wanted. To let you go, to save you from his world. But god fucking damnit, the pain in his chest hadn’t subsided at all. 

“Steeeeeve. Wanna dance?” 

Meredith Russo was attractive - Steve wasn’t blind. That didn’t mean he cared even a fraction about her. Yet somehow, every single time he had been out lately - with or without Billy Russo - Meredith seemed to appear too. 

“No.” He clipped his words and turned away from her at the upstairs bar. 

“Okay, how about we just cut to the chase and you take me home then? I’m tired of this game,” Meredith returned to him, planting her feet and staring him down. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

“I don’t want to do anything to you, Meredith. Excuse me.” 

He could hear her starting to respond, though he escaped her soon enough. And then, Sam was calling for his attention from near the staircase. “Steve, come here!”

Steve followed Sam’s pointed hand and realized something was unfolding downstairs on the dance floor. He could see anger building in some oversized man and then there you were, in the middle of it. 

“Shit,” Steve hissed out, calling for Sam and Bucky to follow him as he rushed downstairs. Where the fuck were his security guards? Who was he paying to maintain the safety standards in his establishment if this was occurring in the middle of the room?

“Stay out of it, you fat bitch!”

Steve couldn't move fast enough. 

As they swam through the large groups of people, shouting for some sort of clearance, Steve was just praying that you’d be unscathed. 

 “Jesus Christ, don’t you know when to quit? Dumb fucking bit—” 

All Steve could see was red. The man grabbed you, pushed you, and then you were collapsing backward. 

Steve caught you just in time, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you further away while Sam and Bucky moved ahead to deal with the brute. 

“Hey, hey - take it easy!”

You were shaking in his arms, high on adrenaline and liquor as the scene calmed down. 

“Are you okay?”

You stilled immediately, pulling away from him. “Hands off!”

Steve relented without hesitation, letting you go and watching as you stumbled forward. You winced in pain as you stepped down on your right foot. 

“Fuck.”

Steve sighed and offered his hand to you. “Let me help you. Please.” He worried you were about to fight him too but thankfully you accepted his arm around your shoulder as you hobbled off the dance floor. 

-

Steve didn’t think he’d ever be in this position again - driving you home after a night out. But circumstances were different and following everything that happened at the club, he had insisted. Though it was clear you had your guard way up. 

After dropping off Pietro, Wanda and Maria - Claire had gone to the hospital with the young girl, accompanied by Luke - the quiet hung between you and Steve in his car. 

He hadn’t experienced silence that heavy and loud before. 

You squeaked out a quiet ‘thanks’ as your building approached, but Steve doubled down. 

“Let me help you to your door, at least. You’re limping.”

Truthfully, Steve thought maybe you should go to the ER too. That asshole had really smashed into your foot and an x-ray would probably find a fracture. Christ, he was still fuming over that entire interaction - the image of that man pushing you, yelling in your face, grabbing you.. 

How come Steve hadn’t been able to protect you? How could he let you get hurt like that?

Right. Because it wasn’t his responsibility. 

Fuck. 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed to his suggestion. The silence continued otherwise as Steve guided you to the elevator, then in the direction of your apartment. 

Once you fished out your keys from your small purse, you managed to get the door open. Hercules was eagerly awaiting on the other side. 

Steve saw your full body sigh. 

He swallowed hard, waiting outside the doorway still. “I can take him out, if you’d like.”

You avoided his eyes but nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Even just spending time outside with Hercules caused Steve’s heart to ache all over again. He thought he had suppressed it all - channeling all his complicated feelings until nights out and all his unrelenting rage into his fists. And yet, they bubbled up again without warning just at the sound of your voice. 

God fucking damnit. 

When he returned to your apartment, with a slow, sleepy pup at his side, he contemplated his next move. He knew he should probably just let Hercules back inside and go. But, he was a sucker for punishment. So, he cautiously opened the door and called your name.

Hercules, freed from his leash and collar, bounced towards your bedroom. Steve stepped to the side and peeked through the open door. You were laying flat on your bed, changed into pajamas. He sighed again, retrieving an ice pack from your freezer and moving towards your room.

“You should ice your foot,” he said slowly, offering you the compress. 

You stuck your hand out for him to hand it off, then rested it on your foot without a word. He retreated back towards the door and waited.

Finally, you spoke. “God, I wish I was still drunk.”

Steve let out a breath. “And why is that?”

“Because I have a thousand things to say to you but..”

Steve waited to see if you’d carry on your thought but instead you fell back deeper onto your pillows. He glanced up to the ceiling then took a step further into your room. 

“It’s after 2AM now.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Honesty Hour.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Sure. Go ahead, you start, I guess.”

“Uh, how come you aren’t spending the night with your boyfriend?”

This time your laugh was a lot deeper. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Steve.”

“That silver haired guy?”

“Wanda’s brother. Just a friend. Not that it matters.”

He knew he should keep his commentary to himself, but Steve couldn’t resist. “You let all your friends touch you and dance with you like that?”

You sat up. “That’s none of your business. And at least he danced with me. Unlike you.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath. “Okay, I deserve that.”

You sighed, shifting in your bed to meet Steve’s gaze. “Yeah. You do. The worst part about this entire thing is I feel like I gave you a lot, you know? I was honest and still tried to make it work but you just.. you were mean, Steve.”

He took a step towards your bed. God, he wanted to crawl in beside you. No, those days were long gone. “Sweetheart, I..”

“You were mean. I thought you were different but fuck. It’s funny - Bucky and Sam told me how much of an idiot you are! Like they felt bad, apologetic even. Isn’t that fucked up? But youuuu. You just blocked my number and moved on and you didn’t even say sorry. I fell in love with you! And you didn’t even… God, did you care about me at all? Was this just a big joke to you?”

“Of course I care about you. It’s just.. it’s complicated. My life is complicated, okay? I can’t.. we can’t..” He stepped back again, dragging a hand down his face. “I am sorry.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” With another frustrated groan, you laid back again and turned away from him. “I guess this is the end. So, have a nice life, Steve.”

He wanted to drop to his knees and apologize again, to get at least one last look at you but Steve knew it was too late. 

-

When you woke up the next morning, the entire evening felt like a dream. But as you stepped off the bed and your foot radiated in pain; it all came flooding back.

Shield, drinking, dancing, Steve, the helpless young girl, Steve, that piece of shit stomping on your foot, Steve driving you home, Steve letting out Hercules, arguing with Steve... Steve… Steve Steve Steve

Of course, I care about you. It’s just.. it’s complicated.

Have a nice life, Steve.

You groaned, very slowly throwing on enough clothes to venture outside with Hercules. The more pressure and time you spent standing on your foot, the worse it felt. When you checked in on the group chat and let them know you were alive, Claire insisted you visit her at work to get your foot checked out.

Given how desperately you needed to unload about what happened with Steve, you put yourself together and headed to the hospital.

“Okay, here’s the update. The tech owed me a favour so this one was on the house.” Claire had been a saint and since you were somehow visiting her on a slow morning after her own late night, she had managed to get you through all the paperwork quickly. “The x-ray just showed a teeny tiny fracture. So a tensor and taking it easy should suffice but let’s get the official prognosis.” She stuck her head into the nearby hallway and called for a doctor, by first name. 

God, you appreciated her.

Claire’s doctor colleague confirmed what she had said and advised on rest, ice and Tylenol. If it got any worse, you could return for a cast.

“Maybe just a short walk for Herc tonight,” Claire said with finality, flipping the chart closed and dropping into the chair beside the bed. “Now, I have a ten minute break and need to know what the hell happened with Steve last night. He drove you home?”

Although you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Claire every single detail, it felt good to say it all out loud. Maybe you could sense a fraction of remorse in Steve, but it still left you with such an upsetting feeling. Why was he so curious about who you were dating or not dating? It didn’t matter to him anymore. 

It was bittersweet to think that your actions with Pietro had impacted Steve so much. Not that you needed him to be jealous but it reminded you he was human still. 

Of course I care about you. 

As you made your way back down to the exit, passing through the emergency room and through the main reception of the hospital, someone called your name. The voice was strangely familiar and when you clued in to who it was, your heart sank.

“Sarah! Hi.” You paused at the set of chairs near the door, giving a small awkward wave to Sarah Rogers as she stood to say greet you. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, sweetie.” She pulled you into a hug and you wanted to melt into the floor. God, how could a woman so sweet raise a son like Steve? Well, no. Maybe that wasn’t a fair question. Before that awful phone call, Steve had proved himself to have traits just like his mother - headstrong, considerate, protective. Damnit. Why did things have to turn out the way they did?

You gave her a soft smile, doing your best to dismiss your plethora of confused thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I volunteer in the palliative ward on the weekends. Usually just a couple hours in the morning.” Sarah motioned to the chairs and invited you to sit. “Do you have a second to talk?”

-

You were running late leaving work - again. God, your boss had been relentless with our workload lately. Gone were the exciting after work adventures from summer. As the fall creeped in and your list of projects grew, you had a feeling more late nights at your desk were in the future. Really, after that night at Shield a few weeks ago, you had pulled yourself back immediately. It had been a while now since you’d done anything beyond a Saturday at the market - which was probably good for your foot, at least.

And now, to make matters worse following your frustrating day at work, there was a thunderstorm in the forecast again. And considering Pietro had just left to go home earlier in the week, you weren’t sure who would be coming to your rescue this time.

You made it to the doggy daycare just minutes before they were closing, apologizing profusely to the girl at the counter as you collected Hercules. When you made it outside and started your walk, you planned out exactly how the rest of your night was going to go: shower, fresh pajamas, ordering in from your favourite Indian place - if they were still open, you needed to check your phone for their hours and–

“Ooof.”

Somehow, only a block before your building, you walked straight into a brick wall of a person. As you mumbled out an apology, you realized it wasn’t just any person, given the hanging tag around his neck. Although he wasn’t in a full patrol uniform, you could see it was someone from the NYPD.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, officer. I wasn’t watching where–”

When he cut you off, reassuring you by saying your name out loud, you narrowed your eyebrows. Wait. What? Why did this officer know who you were? Had he been waiting for you on your route home?

“How do you know my name?” You squeaked out, gripping Hercule’s leash in one hand and your phone in the other. You darted your gaze down to your phone, trying to unlock it.

The man reached out and hit the backside of your hand, sending your phone up and out of your hand. Then, he caught it with a grin. “We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”

--

CHAPTER 05 - CHAPTER 08

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Hey! I was thinking about the other half and...

Bruce has saved her a couple of times now. What happens when he gets injured and she saves him and then takes care of him?

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Length: 3.5K

Warnings: Angst; canon-typical violence; not beta-read; use of a needle (to administer a shot); ends in fluff (kinda. well, you'll see)

“How was the interview?” 

“Fine, I guess.” 

“...Actually fine, or are you just telling me that to get me off your back?” 

You shoot Bruce a guilty smile where he’s standing beside you at the counter, relieved as his own smile widens. 

“Actually fine,” You insist. “It was okay. A little intimidating, but not awful.” 

“If you want me to do some leaning—” 

“No leaning!” You insist as he holds his hands up in surrender. You sigh. “If I get this job, I want it on my own merit, not because the boss asked them to give it to me.” 

“I understand, baby,” He soothes. You nod a little, looking down at your drink as Alfred unpacks the takeout that you’d ordered. The interview honestly hadn’t been all that bad. You’d like the manager, and had a nice conversation with them outside of the interview itself. They’d been easy to talk to, and had put you at ease. You'd felt comfortable talking about your retail background, and how the skills you used there could be parlayed to a position as a Fundraising Operations Associate with the Wayne Foundation. Sure, it wouldn’t be the smoothest of transitions, but it could be done, and the interview had made you feel good. Even if you didn’t get this job, there was a chance for you to get another. 

“What about you? What’d you get up to?” You ply. “What time did you get out of bed?” 

“Late to bed, late to rise,” Alfred tuts beside you, making you grin. Bruce shoots him a sidelong glance before he meets your eye again. 

“I got up around noon.”

“Noon,” You groan. “Damn, that sounds nice.” 

“You could do it, too.” 

“Don’t start that again.” 

Bruce doesn’t hold his hands up in surrender this time. He just watches you with smiling eyes as he lifts his drink to his lips. You shake your head a little bit, turning your gaze from his. He’s offered time and time again to simply take care of you. You trust that he would—that if you came in tomorrow and told him that you didn’t want to work anymore, he’d give you anything that you needed. But there’s still a part of you, a skittish, nervous part, that worries—what if things don’t last? What if you have to go back to work with a gap on your resume? How would you explain it? Bruce Wayne was my sugar daddy, but we’re sort of on the outs now, so. Please let me in? Besides, there’s no way your previous manager would give you a recommendation. 

“I’m not starting,” He insists. 

“Sure you’re not.” 

“I won’t say a word.” 

“You’re thinking about it.” 

“You’re a mindreader now?” 

“No. I just know you.” 

Bruce reaches out, gently cupping your chin and tipping your face toward him. 

“Yes, you do,” He murmurs before giving you a soft kiss. You smile, sliding your hand over his hip and pressing into his side. He hums softly as he draws away, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“C’mon,” He urges, resting a hand on your lower back and steering you to sit at the table as Alfred sets out the food. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” You smile. 

“Enjoy.” 

You look after him as he goes before you turn back to the food, humming happily as you reach for your food. 

“...You going out tonight?” You ask lightly. You tend not to talk about these things if you can possibly help it, but sometimes, you do have to ask. It’s disconcerting to wake up to an empty bed, but it’s worse  if you don't know that he’ll be leaving in the first place. Bruce doesn’t answer you right away; he seems to mull it over as he pokes through his food. 

“I can wait until you fall asleep,” He offers. It’s as good as a straight-forward yes. 

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

You try to sound as light, as relaxed about it as you possibly can. You glance up as you feel Bruce’s ankle hook around yours, tugging your leg closer to his under the table. The subtle touch makes your stomach flutter, your giddiness nearly overtaking your worry. 

Nearly. 

The worry swells viciously again as you watch him suit up. 

You don’t usually see this, but every time you do, it’s a jolt. There’s a line that's crossed in your mind—a difference between the Bruce that you know, the Bruce that you met, and…This. Within the suit, Batman is all hard lines, no-nonsense. There’s a harshness to him that you’ve only seen a couple of times. He’d been focused after the robbery at the store, imposing and fierce, but just a few hours later, when he’d turned up at your doorstep, he’d been Bruce—your Bruce. 

Now, your stomach twists with worry, your arms folded tightly over your chest. He forgoes the cowl as he turns to you, though the piece is in his hands. You find yourself gazing at it as he nears. Its eyes are hollow, and dark; its points seem as if they’d be sharp to the touch; if you look closely, you can see the odd scuff and dent in the surface. What must’ve hit him that it could leave a mark in such a dense material?

Your attention is drawn from it as Bruce raises a hand, cupping your cheek. Your face pulls with a reassuring smile on instinct, eyes widening with attentiveness. Bruce smiles, too, but it seems wary, almost pitying.

“Get some sleep,” He urges. 

“Of course.”

“They’ll call.” 

Is that what he thinks you’re worried about? The interview? You’d turn down a hundred job opportunities if it meant Bruce came home in one piece.

But you just nod, arms tightening around yourself a little. 

“Sure,” You agree. You can’t chase the topic down now, or tell him that he’s wrong. It’s easier to let him think that you’re preoccupied with work, and not with what condition he’ll be when he drags himself in—so long as he’s able to drag himself in—

Your mind is quieted as Bruce gives you a sweet kiss. Your eyelids flutter closed, and your arms unwind to hold him. You can’t ask him to stay in. Bruce takes this city into his arms every night. How can you be so selfish as to ask him to reserve that space for you alone? 

-- 

It’s a crashing sound that wakes you up. 

It’s jolting, and sends you springing to sit up in bed. The room is pitch black, as it always is. You can’t see a damn thing. You listen in silence for a moment, straining to hear anything over the pounding of your heart. For a moment, nothing. Then, the swipe and scrape of something coming down the hall. 

You can’t turn the light on, right? Whoever it is, they’ll see you, they’ll make a beeline right toward you. They may not even know that you’re here. You carefully climb out of bed, swinging your legs over the side. You can take your phone, creep over to the bathroom and call the cops from there. You’ll deal with the fallout of being the woman in Bruce Wayne’s apartment later. You slide your phone off of the bedside table, wincing as it lights up. You jump as the light to the room flicks on, mouth falling open to scream. It hangs for just a second at the sight you’re greeted by:

Bruce, pal, suited, and staggering, a dart sticking out of his jaw. You hurry over to him, breathing, “Oh my god,” As he stumbles, catching himself on his hands and knees. You reach up, hurriedly pulling the dart out and flinging it away. “Bruce! Bruce, what happened?” 

He doesn’t answer, just reaches up, helplessly pawing at his cowl. You draw it off, tossing it in the direction of the dart and steadying him as he slides to the floor, drawing in tight, greedy gasps. You look over him, shaking your head.

“I’ll call an ambulance—” You’re half a step back before he grips your wrist. You can see him shaking his head. Shit. Shit. His breathing grows tighter, and you reach down, wincing and struggling to draw him up onto his side. He tries to pull in a deep breath, seeming to wince with it. You round him, grappling with the fastenings and helping to tug the top of the suit away from his chest. You can already see the mottling of bruises. You reach for your phone with shaking hands, hurriedly explaining, “Alfred! I’m calling Alfred,” When you see Bruce’s eyes widening. You know that you sound panicked when you get him on the phone, but you can’t help it. 

 You don’t ask Bruce what happened. You know that he’s not in any state to tell you, and some panicked, terrified part of you is certain you’ll never get the answer. 

“Look at me,” You plead, cupping Bruce’s cheeks. His jaw quivers in your hands; his body shakes within the confines of the suit. You glance down at it, hesitating. Move him at the wrong moment, you could hurt him. But if you can help him out of the suit, it could help him breathe more easily. 

“Okay,” You mumble, more to yourself than to Bruce. “Okay—Just hold on, we’re going to get you out of this."

It takes all of your strength to shift him and the suit. You wince as you have to tug it from his body, murmuring your apologies as winces twist Bruce’s already pain-riddled features. But once it’s off, his body seems to sag with relief. You reach out, drawing him back onto his side and scrubbing your hand over his bicep. His body is too hot. What the hell was in that goddamn dart? 

You look up, doing a double-take and relaxing a touch as you spot Alfred hurrying down the hall. 

“He just came in, he just—” You struggle to explain, “He had that dart over there in his jaw, I didn’t know what to do.” 

“I was afraid of this,” Alfred lowers himself beside Bruce. You see Bruce’s eyes slide toward his caretaker, as if he’s at once grateful and warning him to hold back an I told you so. 

“Have you ever administered a vaccine before?”

“Why the hell would I’ve done that?” You snap irritably as Alfred draws a kit out of his pocket. 

“Here,” Alfred slides it over to you. "Clean his bicep, and then give him this. It should set in within a moment or two. He’ll need plenty of fluids. Once you’ve administered the shot and the shaking stops, we’ll get him to the bed.” 

You open your mouth to ask another question, but Alfred is already up and heading for the kitchen. 

“Oh—Damnit, goddamnit,” You hiss, sweating fingers fumbling with the kit. You groan at the sight of two syringes, already loaded with a clear liquid. 

“Are they the same?” You call after Alfred. 

“Yes!” 

You look around, taking up an alcohol swab and swiping it all over Bruce’s bicep. 

“Okay. Okay,” You mumble, more to yourself than him. “It’s going to be fine, this is going to work, you’re going to be fine.” You’re not sure which of you that’s for, but you’re certain that you both need it. You take up the syringe, trying to steady your shaking hand. You glance at Bruce’s face before you rest your hand on his arm. You wince as the needle pierces the skin, pressing down on the plunger with slow pressure. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You tack on as Bruce groans in pain. You draw the needle back out, dropping it into the kit. You watch as Bruce draws in a deeper breath than just a moment ago. You push a relieved breath of your own out as you raise your hands back to Bruce’s face, pushing his hair back from his pale, sweat-sheened forehead. You look up as Alfred comes back in, a wide bowl of water in one hand, glass in the other hand, a towel slung over one of his arms. You watch as he sets them down before waving you up. 

“I’ll get his arms, you take his feet.” 

You do as he says, standing and rounding to Bruce’s feet. You wince, lifting him with Alfred. At least you took his suit off. You can't imagine trying to carry him with it. You and Alfred waddle together, helping Bruce onto the bed. 

“I haven’t had a chance to call Fox.” 

“What do you need to call him for?” You ask.

“We will need more of that antidote as soon as possible. You said that the dart was in his jaw?” 

“Yes.” You scooch to sit at Bruce’s bedside, taking up the towel and dunking it into the lukewarm water. You dab Bruce’s forehead and neck gently, shushing him softly as his breathing speeds with pain, then slows again as the sensation seems to ebb. You hardly look away from him as you hear Alfred’s footsteps retreat. The rise and fall of his chest is taking on a steady rhythm. You’re not sure if you should be relieved or more relaxed, but your heart thuds—he’sfine—he’sfine—he’sfine—he’sfine—

--  

Alfred makes up the guest room and tries to coax you away to get rest for an hour at least, maybe two. He seems reassured that Bruce is alright, that he simply needs to rest, to sweat it out of his system. He lingers for a little while, but ultimately retreats to the living room after tucking away the suit and leaving you with Bruce. 

You stay by Bruce’s side. Nothing could draw you away from him. Hell, you’re almost certain that Commissioner Gordon could storm in with the entire force of the Gotham PD, but they wouldn’t get you out of that room until Bruce opened his eyes and told you himself that he was okay. 

The color has returned to his face as light creeps in under the floor-to-ceiling shades. He still looks somewhat palid in the lamp’s light, but compared to the complete lack of tone just hours ago, it’s a vast improvement. Your eyes are dry from staying up; your nose is stuffy from uncried tears; your belly squirms like a nest of twisting vipers. 

His fever’s broken, but his hair is still damp with sweat. Your fingers comb through the strands, eyes searching his face for anything—a blink, a flinch, a shift, anything. It’s a few hours yet before it comes. By then, Alfred has been in and out a number of times, with coffee, with tea, with food. But you’re too wired, to strung out with panic to do anything but watch, and wait. 

By the time Bruce comes to, night is falling in Gotham again. As his eyelashes flutter, then slowly blink open, you’re certain he’ll ask you for his suit, tell you that he has a job to go and do. But he raises his hand to his jaw, smoothing his fingers across where the dart made contact and wincing. He draws in a deep, steady breath before he lowers his hand to rest atop yours, giving your hand a squeeze with his clammy one. 

You pull in a deep breath for what feels like the first time in hours, pushing out a shaky, relieved exhale. Oh, you’ll take him to task later. Right now, you just bow over him and rest your forehead over his steadily beating heart. 

--  

He doesn’t try to tell you that nothing’s wrong, or that it’ll never happen again. He does tell you, as Alfred and Fox do, that this is rare—that something like this has only happened a time or two before. 

Alfred and Fox hold your gaze when they say so, reassuring smiles on their faces. Bruce’s eyes stay set on the kitchen table, jaw set with resolute determination. He’s not going to stop for you. You don’t think he’ll stop for anything. You’re certain that one of these days, this’ll kill him. 

And for once, you fucking tell him so. 

You’re alone when you say it. Bruce is still staring at the table, and Alfred and Fox have left, speaking hushed tones as they'd gone. Bruce doesn’t dispute it. He doesn’t nod, he doesn’t argue. For a few moments, he doesn't say a fucking thing. 

“I need to adjust my precautions.”

That’s what finally comes out of his mouth. Not, I’m sorry for scaring the life out of you or Thank you for taking care of me. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You bat back icily. He gives a small shake of his head. 

“I can make changes—” 

“You know what you could change? You could fucking stop. This is not your job, Bruce. Leave it to the authorities—” 

“Most of them are crooked, and the ones that aren’t are biding their time behind a desk. There are a few good ones out there, but they can’t do this alone.” 

“Neither can you!” 

You push yourself back from the table, rounding away from Bruce. Your hands flex on your hips, heart thudding with anger. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” You’re too tired to cushion or sugarcoat it anymore. “Every goddamn night, I worry whether or not you’re going to come back in once piece. You stagger in half-dead and all you can say to me is that you’ll make adjustments?”  

Bruce’s jaw is tight, his hands flexing in his fists. You shake your head, turning from him and scrubbing your hands over your tired face. You hear the scrape of his chair, the whisper of his slippers before you feel his hands rest on your hips. He always gives you a little squeeze when he knows you’re pissed. It's happening more and more these days. You don’t lean back into him; you don’t trust his strength yet. He’s only been up and around for a few hours. But Bruce presses his face into his neck and breathes you in. He murmurs his apology over and over into your skin, like the words won’t make it through your ears; like you need to soak them in the same way he soaked in whatever poison was in that fucking dart. 

“...Where’s the first aid kit?” You finally ask. 

“Why?” He frowns. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just…I’ll need to know, you know. For next time.” 

Bruce uses his grasp on you to turn you around to face him. He presses a kiss to your cheek before resting his temple against yours. 

“I am sorry,” He insists.

“You better be, Batboy.” 

“...I’m letting that one go.” 

“Well, that’s one of us.” 

Bruce chuckles softly, nudging his nose tenderly along your cheekbone. 

“You ever get a call back?” He asks.

“What?” You frown. 

“From that interview.” 

“Oh…I don’t know,” You shake your head. “I haven’t checked my phone.” 

“Wayne Foundation policy is to get back to applicants within 48 hours.” 

“Nice diversion, you fucking know-it-all,” You mumble. You turn your head, pecking his lips gently. “You should go lie down.” 

“Come with me?” 

You grab your phone off of the table as you trail him, fighting off a smile when you see that Alfred has already changed the sweaty sheets. 

--  

“Are you excited?” 

“I guess. More nervous, I think,” You admit. 

“You’re going to be fine.” 

“You’re so frickin’...Sure of yourself.” 

“Well, that gets a little easier when you’re the one whose name is over the door.” 

“Mm, I bet,” You mumble. Bruce smiles, reaching out and cupping your cheeks. His look, his touch—it’s all so damn relaxed. Bruce is out of the woods, he’s fine. He’s in front of you, giving you that charming smile that you know and love. Standing in the lobby of the Wayne Foundation, he’s the picture of health. He seems to glance around at the empty lobby before he cups your cheeks, drawing you in for a tender kiss. You lean into him, sighing softly. He pecks your lips twice before leaning away. 

“Can I you to lunch?” He mumbles. 

“I don’t know. Maybe not for the first week.” 

“I’ll pencil you in for the second week.” 

“Very generous, Mr. Wayne,” You chuckle, backing toward the elevator. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

-- 

The whispers start around noon. The glances quickly follow. You think that it’s just the fact that you’re new—but when you leave to get lunch, you’re greeted with a veritable wall of paps calling your name. You blink rapidly at the flashing of cameras, stumbling back into the building. Your heart pounds in your chest as you peer to the window before you draw your buzzing phone out of your pocket. You have several missed calls from Bruce, and Alfred, and Michelle. There’s a text from Michelle, too—an article with two pictures right up top: one of you and Bruce kissing in the lobby, and another of the two of getting into the car together in Gran Canaria. Bruce had said that he’d thought he’d seen something. Apparently he’d been right. 

Your gaze scans the headline—Prince of Gotham Slumming with Shop Girl turned Wayne Foundation Employee

Aw…Hell. So much for his fear of your being linked with Batman. Now you’re linked to Bruce Wayne.

Next Part

[skkfujoshi]

Please,please,don’t prove I’m right

“Are you sure this is wise?”Akutagawa asked tossing Chuuya his motorcycle helmet “If you wanted to go with Dazai,you should’ve piped up before I left.” “I don’t ask for Dazai’s benefit,I ask for yours.”

Chuuya chuckled,leaning on the bike.

“Do you doubt my abilities?” “You’ve only used it in combat by yourself twice before.And both times you were bedridden for almost a week.” “…That is true.” “And Dazai’s our enemy now.If he feels it more beneficial to let you die…Despite Fukuzawa’s orders,he’ll surely do so.”

Chuuya sighed.He couldn’t say he didn’t consider that.A lot has changed between them after all.Dazai no longer had any affection or obligation towards him,he’d hardly feel the need.

And Ahrahabaki,try as they both might,still drained a lot out of him with corruption.Chuuya was in control of it now,much more precise then before but that only meant he felt the pain the whole time.Granted,being exhausted but conscious enough to get into a cab by yourself was a big improvement over passing out immediately,but still.

“Dazai values his new life far too much to risk it over something so petty.”he said,decisively “Still…Perhaps I should come with you.” “No.I made a deal and you don’t change those last minute.You wait here and hold the fort.”

Akutagawa frowned but nodded.Chuuya gestured for him to come over and wrapped one arm around him,Akutagawa’s arm coming to do much the same though a tad more stiffly.

“If I don’t come back you know where to find my will.” “…Right.Good luck,boss.” “Hopefully I won’t need it.”

~

“And on the bike too?Do you do that for all the guys or am I just special?” “Especially annoying,more like.”Chuuya said, tossing Dazai the helmet as he parked in front of the Agency building  “Still the only one you have?” “What are you gonna do detective?Bitch at me about traffic laws?”

They held eye contact and for a moment Chuuya thought Dazai might actually scold him.

But he didn’t,simply shrugging and putting the helmet on

“I don’t care about laws which don’t apply to me.Step on it,boss.”he said,throwing his leg over the bike’s side and wrapping his arms around Chuuya’s waist.

Chuuya obliged,stepping on the gas,using one of his hands to grab Dazai’s shoulder.

“Try jumping off and I’ll bring you back just to kill you again.”

Dazai simply tightened his hold on Chuuya in response.

“A verbal response would’ve been just as good.” “Yeah,but I’m a liar so would you have really believed me?” “Touché.” “Don’t you mean-“ “I know what I meant and don’t you dare try to correct me,because if you try I will cut your tongue out for insulting the French language as a whole.”

“Jeez…If you liked France so much,maybe you should’ve stayed there.”

It was rare that Chuuya agreed with Dazai.But he’d give him that one.

“Then Yumeno would still be in a cell.” “Exactly,win win for everyone.”

Chuuya might’ve made a bit too sudden of a swerve at that,causing Dazai to cling to him for dear life.

“What the hell were you thinking!You could’ve gotten us both killed!” “Sorry,Dazai-san,slip of the hand.”

Dazai grumbled but seemingly knew better than to continue an argument when Chuuya was the one making sure they didn’t crash.

“So,detective,what’s the plan?” “Operation Pufferfish and Bull.” “Are we using the explosion as a distraction or in a more offensive manner?” “Distraction.Those two survived getting hit by a truck.I’d rather not take my chances with anything long range.Besides,it’ll be easier to get Q out that way.And the easier that goes,the faster I get out of your presence.” “For once we’re in agreement,Dazai-san.However…Do you really think that close range would be much better?”

He didn’t need to turn to know the smug smirk that now surely played on Dazai’s lips.

“No matter how powerful the ability,mine can nullify it.Didn’t we learn that a long time ago, slug?”

Chuuya bit his own lower lip in response,tamping down a smug smile of his own.

“Something funny?” “Oh,you’ll see.I’d hate to ruin it.”

He was gonna see Dazai get smacked by a giant octopus and for free at that.

“You still like calamari,right?” “Yeah.”

There was a pause and he could feel Dazai’s eyes narrow at him in suspicion.Surprise,surprise,the bastard who messes with people   can tell when you mess with him.

“Why?” “No reason.”

~

The premise of the Pufferfish and Bull strategy was rather simple.

Him and Dazai would split up,with Chuuya taking one of the enemies down from high up in whichever manner he saw fit.Once he’s done with that,Dazai will set off a bomb he planted earlier which will set the person pursuing him in the wrong direction.

Silmutaneously,it will serve as a signal to Chuuya to go in the direction opposite the sound of the bomb where Dazai will be able to pick him up,driving them in the direction they needed to go on Chuuya’s motorcycle.

Use to be one of Chuuya’s favourite strategies.

Keyword being use to be because only someone with a crush on Dazai would ever find the man’s utter inability to balance a motorcycle cute or endearing in any way.

Chuuya adjusted his former partner’s posture a bit lower,finally allowing Dazai to keep the bike straight.

“If you dent this bike you will get-“ “A new dent on my skull for every dent I make,mark your words.I know.”Dazai finished

Chuuya glared at him,but he wasn’t really sure why.He should probably be grateful that he didn’t have to waste his breath on explaining such a simple concept,yet…

There was something in this that made the shiver refuse to go down his spine.Instead it just…lingered,unresolved.

Maybe it was how quick Dazai was to parrot Chuuya’s words.As if they were last heard a few hours ago instead of four years. 

It also didn’t help matters that under the tree dimmed moonlight Dazai’s beige coat could almost be mistaken for black.

It was an oddly surreal situation,like walking in on a memory .He was half expecting to feel a literal rug being pulled out from under him,as if it were all some sick joke.

He turned on his heel,ignoring the twisting in his chest .

“Chuuya,one more thing.” “Hmm?” “Don’t fuck it up or I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave.” “…Not if I do it first.”he said,before activating his ability 

~

“When were you planning to tell me that the tentacles weren’t an ability !?”Dazai asked/screamed over the sound of the motorcycle  driving at top speed “Slow down!You’re driving over the roots,dipshit!” “Relax,the kid’s probably unconscious.Even if you let go of me,you’ll be fine.Now back to the important-“

Chuuya turned Dazai’s head back towards the road.

“Eventually!Eyes on the road!”

Surprisingly,Dazai managed to avoid the tree not just entirely but smoothly,performing a perfect donut inches away from the small cabin like house’s entrance as Chuuya screamed on the top of his lungs.

“Oh my God…”Dazai muttered,almost in awe “Yeah,oh my God,you nearly killed us!” “No,I mean…You still scream like a little girl.” “Why you-“

Before the insult could leave Chuuya’s mouth,they were interrupted by the sound of trees falling.Lovecraft realized the trick and he was advancing on them quick.

“Wanna finish that thought?” “…Some other day.Take out the keys.”

Dazai obliged and the two stood silent as they dismounted and Chuuya kicked the door open.

Except,of course,a silent Dazai never remained too long.

“So,what do you plan to do about the octopus back there?” “What do you think I’ll do?”

He expected Dazai to throw out a crazy idea,just for shits and giggles but no such luck.

“Corruption?”he asked,low,uncomfortable and uncertain 

Chuuya nodded.

“I’ll try to stay close by then.We don’t know for how much time you can handle it.Best we don’t risk it.”

A part of him wanted to appreciate that he didn’t have to ask.That Dazai said he’d have his back with essentially with no prompting.The other part of him wasn’t quite so pleased by it.

Because he loathed the assumption,the ego that it took to jump to conclusions.To think that Chuuya was unable to solve his own ability in four years time and that he still needed Dazai.

However,he decided to be civil.

“That won’t be necessary.Well,per say.”he amended awkwardly 

Politely,hopefully,was how it sounded to any ears that weren’t his own.

“Huh?” “Let me put it for you this way,Dazai.You’re insurance.”

A silent beat and a laugh.

Chuuya scowled,staring at Dazai’s back.He took up that particular position,just in case Dazai got any smart ideas and decided to be a bit more direct with putting Yumeno out of his misery.

How he didn’t always loathe Dazai’s laugh was beyond him now.It was hollow and unpleasantly flat.Love truly did make people dumb and deaf,it seemed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,Chuuya.Maybe you used it a little,but that doesn’t mean-“ “I used it in combat twice.And I still stand before you,don’t I?”Chuuya bit

Dazai turned to him and Chuuya flinched.The corpse glare.

Flat,black and lifeless…Just like Chuuya remembered it.Dazai grimaced,though Chuuya suspected it was supposed to be a smile.

“Then tell me,boss,why exactly am I here?” “I told you,Dazai-san,insurance.Just in case.”

Dazai rolled his eyes,picking the lock without even looking at it much.He swung the door open and turned heel,with a shrug.

“Whatever you say,Nakahara-san.”

Chuuya tsked,following closely behind.

They walked into the room and there Yumeno was,unconscious and hung up by vines.Chuuya held back the urge to yelp.However much pain they put him trough,it must’ve made the razor blades look like nothing in comparison.

He went over to touch the side of the boy’s neck.It was faint,but…his heart still seemed to be beating.

Chuuya breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know Chuuya,from a certain angle…This is kinda your fault.”Dazai remarked casually,throwing- “Is that my knife!?” “Possibly.”

He didn’t pay Chuuya’s glare any mind as he walked past him and held the knife up right over Yumeno’s face.

Chuuya pulled out his father’s scalpel,the blade of it ending up at Dazai’s throat.Not close enough to press,but close enough that it would only take a moment to slash the brunette’s throat.

Dazai simply swung the knife into the branches as if nothing happened.

Chuuya blinked,stunned.He sheathed the scalpel back in and watched Dazai work at the wood in silence.

“Thought I was gonna stab him?” “Only an idiot would put much past the Demon prodigy.” “Former.” “…Right.”

The sound of the stabs was blunt as Dazai freed Yumeno’s hand.

“As I said,this is kinda on you.If you didn’t let him out to spite me,none of this would’ve happened.” “Yeah,well me from two years ago didn’t even know the Guild existed.”

Dazai’s hand stilled briefly,before he continued,now freeing Q’s left leg.

“What?” “I let him out two years ago.” “…For all you changed,seems at least your sentimentality remains perfectly intact.” “Sentimentality!?This is basic decency!He was seven when you tossed him in there,Osamu!Seven!What did you think was gonna happen!?”

Dazai fixed him with a look that was arguably much worse than either his smug one or the corpse glare.Annoyance.

As if that concern and fact was below Dazai.As if it wasted his time to even hear it.

“Chuuya,I did what I had to.Even if he were an infant he’d still be a monster.” “Because of his ability.”

Dazai scoffed.

“So you do get it.”he said cutting Yumeno out completely.

-

He caught the brat before he could hit the floor,tossing him into Chuuya’s semi waiting arms like a human hot potato.

Chuuya adjusted the boy in his arms,carefully cradling the back of his head and holding him close.Like Q deserved it in any way.Like the kid wasn’t the world’s youngest ever sadist.

“Of course .I know what he can do.”Chuuya said,carding his hand trough the kid’s hair

What Chuuya asked him to do on that train.What Chuuya might’ve asked him to do however many times over those elusive two years.

“The only question now is…What do you make of me in that case?”

By the look in Chuuya’s eyes Dazai could tell this was more of a challenge than a genuine question.

There was a flicker there,but it was focused and precise.

Chuuya was prodding Dazai to say,what the brunette now realized,they both knew he was thinking.

After all, it was one thing to internally call someone every horrible thing you could think of,it was another to speak it.To give that thought a form,a sound,an impact.

And a part of Dazai wanted to.Especially after that insurance comment.

Was that all he was to Chuuya now?Just an asset?

Like father,like son.

He scoffed and opened his mouth to speak.But,nothing came out.Something about Chuuya standing there,hair properly red again,eyes darting to Q at the boy’s slightest shiver despite himself made the words dry up on his tongue.

“Simple,it just makes you a human.A really,really stupid human.”

Chuuya glared at him but was interrupted before he could speak.

“Boss?”

-

“Oh great…The brat woke up..”Dazai grumbled

Yumeno’s brows furrowed in confusion,his eyes still just barely open.

“Is-“ “Yeah.Dazai.Insurance.Long story.Are you in pain?”

He weakly shook his head,before pulling on Chuuya’s coat nuzzling into it.

He was cold.No wonder,his circulation was probably screwed with how long he hung there.Unfortunately there was no time to fix that problem.

He looked to Dazai who was staring up at the ceiling,waiting.

Dazai lightly shook his head.Lovecraft was way too close and they couldn’t let themselves get caught in an enclosed space.Chuuya placed Yumeno down carefully and wrapped him in his coat,giving him the sign to wait.

“We’ll be back soon,I promise.”

-

“Friend of your mind roommate’s?” “More like acquaintances.”

They were staring up at what must’ve been Lovecraft’s truest form and Dazai could only blink.

After 136 murders,312 counts of extortion and 625 cases of fraud,Dazai found not much could shake him.

“Well,I hate to admit it,Chuu,but seems you were right,there’s only one card left to play.”

He tossed Chuuya a look,expecting a brief flash of dread before it transitioned not quite so smoothly into a look of begrudging acceptance.

But no such thing happened.

Instead,Chuuya,seemingly no second thought at all,began taking off his gloves.

“Chuuya?” “What?”

He didn’t seem to find anything strange about it.

“You sure you have no other ideas?” “Nope.As you said,only one card to play.Besides,if I were you I’d worry about Steinbeck.”Chuuya said tilting his head towards the woods.

Dazai raised a brow,but turned his head,one of Steinbeck’s branches nearly going trough his face as he did so .With a sigh,he touched it before it could retract,making it dissapear .

“Seems we both have our parts to play then.”

~

“What the hell is that?” “That  is the true form of Chuuya’s gift.In his corrupted state he can even create black holes that swallow everything in their path.”Dazai said as he held the knife to Steinbeck’s throat,eyes fixed on Chuuya

It was a bad habit,he supposed.Most people would find something deeply unsettling about corruption,but Dazai was,as time had showed,not most people.

He found it was a lot like watching a storm at sea.It was deadly and he wouldn’t recommend anyone who wasn’t at least half as suicidal as him to get anywhere near it,but..The sheer power and scale of it simply took your breath away.

“Unfortunately,he isn’t in control of himself in that state,so if not stopped,he’ll just lose energy and die.”he continued lightly 

Though…For someone who wasn’t in control or registering much of the bodily pain Dazai knew Chuuya’s body was experiencing,his former partner did seem to be quite a bit more precise and careful than Dazai remembered.

“Let me put it for you this way,Dazai.You’re insurance.”

Was that true?

Surely not.More likely than not,Chuuya only tried to maintain corruption,minus actually doing anything.That sounded a lot more believable.

Just maintaining that state must’ve been a tremendous effort,without the extra exertion of a proper fight.

Chuuya still needed him.He was just being a hardass as usual.

“He seems to heal no matter what Chuuya does to him…Know why that is?”

He tossed Steinbeck a glance,the blonde only looking at him with a smug grin.

“All I can tell you is that there’s no way to destroy Lovecraft from the outside when he’s in that state.” “Outside you say?So you can take him out from the inside?”he said with a smug smile of his own 

Lucky that he had two bombs.And extra lucky that he gave the second one to Chuuya.

Dazai watched the ball of red light form in Chuuya’s hand and grinned as he pressed the detonator.

Oh,how he loved when a plan came together.

As the explosion sounded,Dazai stabbed into Steinbeck’s side.The blonde groaned and Dazai kicked him to the ground,stepping on him on his way to Chuuya just to be safe.

He tried not to run,lest Lovecraft’s human…Shell?Form?Meat suit?Whatever that version of him was,Dazai didn’t want him to know just how on the ropes he had Chuuya moments prior.

Speaking of Chuuya…He seemed oddly composed.Usually once the enemy was defeated he’d go on a rampage,throwing those small black holes with seemingly no reason except for the sake of destruction itself.

Now he was standing in the middle of the battlefield panting like crazy,as his entire body shook.

Dazai’s blood froze in his veins and his stomach dropped.

That shouldn’t be possible…

That’s not how this worked…

Chuuya shouldn’t be concious enough to feel anything.

“Chuuya?”Dazai asked,praying that he wouldn’t get a response

This was the one thing he could count on.The one thing he was sure of.It was just how things were.

Chuuya used corruption,Dazai was the only thing that could get him out.If that wasn’t the only way,Mori wouldn’t have gone with it.

But Mori didn’t have direct contact with a destruction god,did he?

Chuuya turned to him and Dazai stumbled back slightly.His ex partner looked exhausted and in pain.

His teeth were gritted together,sweat pouring down his face and tears held back in the corners of his eyes.But that look of immense effort wasn’t why Dazai stepped away.

It was Chuuya’s eyes,more precisely the fact that his pupils were still there.During corruption his eyes would go milky white,until Dazai touched him.And yet it was two all too clear blue eyes that stared back at him.

Dazai’s knees felt weak,his feet were lead and breathing never felt harder.

“Insurance.” he thought “What a terrible thing to be.”

-

Chuuya saw the look that was now on Dazai’s face before.Of course he had.You don’t get to be half of the most feared duo in Yokohama without seeing people look absolutely horrified of you.

The same wide eyes,the chalky pallor,the tensed shoulders.All of the signs were there.

Chuuya had stopped taking it personally years ago,even started taking pride it in.After all if it was only gonna keep happening,might as well change tact to a better strategy.

He honestly should have been glad here too.Dazai’s the enemy,if he fears Chuuya,all the better.

Right?

Somehow he couldn’t convince himself of that.

His shoulder hurt like hell.His head was drumming terribly…He really didn’t need Dazai’s guilty look after he nullified corruption on top of all that.

“Chuuya?” “What?!”he whisper shouted

He would’ve shouted properly if he wasn’t carrying a sleeping Yumeno.

“How…How did you start talking to it?” “It just sorta happened…”he lied

He knew why.It happened the night he killed Dazai’s ‘murderers’.Same how he blew up the lab in Surubachi,his suffering and internal pain just brought the god out.

“Liar.” “Takes one to know one.”Chuuya spat back,placing Yumeno into the mafia car

Hirotsu,as always,had perfect timing and called it at the exact right time.

Chuuya got in as well,with Dazai closing the door.

“Goodbye ,Dazai.” “Goodbye,Chuuya.”

It was only later that he realized his gloves were missing.

Previous fic part <— Next fic part—>

First overall AU info post

[kuzann]

Escape from the Holidays

My Holiday Truce present for @deuynndoodles! Sam and Tucker get Danny away from the Santa argument for some much-needed relaxation. 💜 Also on Ao3!

Danny trudged his way through the fall season, doing his best to ignore the Christmas merch that was already showing up in stores by Halloween. Holiday creep was annoying in general, but for Danny it acted as an omen of things to come once December rolled around. As the weeks ticked by the knot of stress and anxiety grew in the pit of his stomach; the worst month of the year was approaching and there was nothing he could do about it. He would simply have to endure whatever misery the yearly argument brought just as he did every year.

December 1st arrived. The more restrained organizations of Amity Park at last began to put up their Christmas decorations. FentonWorks lit up in red, white, and green just like the rest of the neighborhood and, like clockwork, the Santa argument began. Danny was long past caring whether Santa Claus was real or not; the only thing that mattered was the fact that the argument made every single December a writhing mass of stress and mess cleanup.

Five days after the start of December he and Jazz sat in the living room after being summoned for a family board game, only for the Santa argument to overshadow everything before the game could even make it out of the box. Jazz hid her face in her newest psychology book while Danny glowered at his parents and wished he’d thought to grab his phone before his dad pestered him into coming downstairs for ‘family time’.

He was just checking his watch for the dozenth time when the front door slammed open. Sam and Tucker hurried into the living room, still breathless from running over. The sudden intrusion put a temporary pause on the argument as the Fentons turned to their new guests.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, there’s a ghost attacking the docks!” Tucker said, still a little breathless from the run as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“You gotta hurry before he gets away!” Sam added. “He’s trying to steal a bunch of shipping boxes!”

“No ghost is making off with holiday gifts while the Fentons are on the job!” Jack declared as he and Maddie drew their concealed weapons. They barged out the door past Sam and Tucker and out into the snowy night.

“Nothing stops the holiday argument like their mutual hatred of ghosts,” Tucker said with a knowing smile.

“Well, we better get going,” Danny grumbled as he stood. “So who is it this time? It’s the Box Ghost, isn’t it?”

“It is, but he’s not our problem tonight,” Sam said with a proud smile of her own. “Come on, you really think your parents can’t handle the Box Ghost?”

“Well since my mom’s out there I guess I shouldn’t worry...” Danny admitted with a small smile. He was already starting to feel a little better now that he didn’t have to witness the Santa argument. “We do need to figure out something for dinner now, though,” he added as he shared a glance with Jazz.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re coming over to my house and we’re ordering takeout,” Sam said.

“We call it Operation: Get Danny Away from the Stupid Santa Argument,” Tucker added with a grin. “And Jazz too, if she wants to hang out with us.”

“Well given that I’ll be all alone here after you guys leave...” Jazz began. “You’re sure you’re okay with me joining in? I’m not gonna cramp your style or anything?”

“Any Fenton who isn’t part of the Santa argument is welcome in my book,” Danny replied.

~~~

Sam’s parents were surprisingly pleasant when the four of them arrived; Danny was under the impression that they didn’t care for him or his family, and tonight he had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Manson was going to rub being a superior parent in his parents’ faces at some point in the near future because of all this. Jazz lingered to give them a full rundown of her college plans when they asked what she was up to as a matter of courtesy, which gave Sam ample opportunity to get her other guests upstairs and into her room without any further delay.

Her room was dimly-lit by warm red string lights she’d added recently. The effect was almost cozy, despite Sam’s likely intent of using them to boost the goth look to her room. It was certainly more calming than the sea of Christmas lights that decorated most of the city. The curtains were already drawn when they arrived, blocking off any view of the city beyond. Closed, comfortable, and warm.

“So what kind of food are we feeling like tonight?” Sam asked once they were safely in her room.

“Something other than pizza,” Danny replied as he flopped down on a massive black bean bag chair. “I think I’ve finally had enough pizza for a little while.”

“I could go for some Thai food,” Tucker added as he dropped onto the oversized bean bag next to Danny.

“I know a great Thai place.” Sam turned to a nearby bookshelf and took a binder labeled ‘Restaurants’ from it, then leafed through until she found the page she wanted. “Here we go,” she said as she took the menu from a sheet protector within.

“So organized,” Tucker said with a chuckle as Sam passed the menu to them.

“Well when you have dietary restrictions it helps to remember the places that can accommodate,” Sam said.

“Smart,” Danny said. He leaned in, bumping shoulders with Tucker as he read the menu as well. “Think I’ll pick the pad thai with chicken.”

“Red curry with beef for me,” Tucker said.

Danny leaned back against the bean bag and closed his eyes as Sam left to ask Jazz what she wanted. It was quiet in Sam’s room—soundproofed to keep her and her parents’ music tastes completely separate, for everyone’s sake—and no holiday music reached them here. He could almost pretend that this was just any other month and that he didn’t have another miserable holiday season to look forward to once he left. The ball of stress that sat sharp and heavy in his chest slowly began to unwind.

His phone buzzed with a received text. Danny opened his eyes and checked it: Valerie had made it to her grandparents’ house and was asking how he was doing. He smiled and texted back: [Glad ur safe. Sam & Tucker rescued me from Santa argument so doing good]

“Val checking in?” Tucker asked.

“Yep, she’s safe at her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied. Worry over Valerie staying safe on the slippery roads had been sitting at the back of his mind ever since she left the previous day, and it was good to have it resolved for now.

Sam returned with Jazz in tow. “Food’s ordered, now we just have to wait.” She strolled over and dropped down onto the unoccupied side of the bean bag. “Did I miss anything?”

“Valerie made it to her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied.

“That’s good. The roads are pretty treacherous this time of year,” Sam said. She stretched, then fell back against the bean bag, bumping shoulders with Danny. “She’ll be here next time we do this.”

“Next time?” Danny raised his eyebrows with the question as he looked at her.

“Yeah we were thinking once a week,” Tucker added. “Maybe more often. Depends on how stressed out you get.” He gave Danny a playful poke on the forehead.

“We couldn’t just sit back and let you be miserable for the whole season,” Sam said. “Besides, it’s nice to get a break from the holiday rush.”

Danny smiled, and he let out a long slow sigh as he sank into the bean bag a little further. “Thanks, guys.” He pulled the two into a hug. “This really means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it, dude,” Tucker said as he and Sam returned the hug. “So what should we do while we wait for the food to get here?”

“I found this card game called Five Crowns recently,” Sam said. “Let’s try it out.”

~~~

The Jacks were wild by the time the food arrived at the front door. Danny and Tucker were almost tied for last place with scores exceeding one hundred points while Jazz sat squarely in the lead with only thirty-five. With two hands to go there was still a chance that Sam could unseat her as the to-be winner, but only time would tell.

Sam brought the food up and the four of them sorted out their meals from the bag. They dug in, chattering all the while about school, video games, movies, future plans. The cards had been laid aside for the moment, to spare them the possibility of getting messy from the food.

Danny forgot the date after a while. It felt like any other night of the year, which was exactly what he needed. He was finally at ease as they set the remnants of dinner aside and picked up their game again.

~~~

Jazz won the game in the end, despite a valiant effort to defeat her on Sam’s part. Danny ended with a ridiculous sum of four hundred and twenty-six points. He didn’t mind. It was the simple act of playing the game that he’d enjoyed, win or lose.

With the game over they set about finding other ways to occupy the time. Sam brought up a new fantasy RPG she’d bought recently and asked if they wanted to do a joint save so they could enjoy the story together.

The three plopped down on the big bean bag chair again with Danny in the middle and took turns on the controller, laughing and riffing on the game’s sillier story beats and praising it for the things it did well. Meanwhile Jazz sat at Sam’s desk with a book open before her, a small smile on her face as she kept half an ear on their fun, chuckling every so often at one of their jokes.

Hours drifted past, carrying them late into the evening, and at last the three began to nod off. Sam and Tucker each rested on one of Danny’s shoulders, the book Sam had been perusing laying open across her lap while Tucker’s PDA had almost slipped out of his hand as he slept.

Once she was sure they were soundly asleep Jazz took a nearby blanket and draped it over the three, gently tucking the edges around them to trap in the warmth. Danny was truly fortunate to have such good friends. Getting him away from holiday stress was exactly what he needed, and with them whisking him away like this every few days he would be able to weather the season much better than he had in previous years.

Jazz tiptoed back to the desk and sat down again. She would wake them in a little while to take Danny home, but for now all she wanted was to let him sleep peacefully for as long as he could.

[stargazestories]

WITHOUT A FACE

Parring: MinghaoxReader

Warnings: attempt at dirty talk?will say this is mildly suggestive at best still don’t want minors to read

A/N: I am so (not fully) back. I felt like finishing off one of my stories and this one haunted me for a while so it’s just a small one and if maybe I come back to it ever again I’ll follow up with a part 2 with smut but please enjoy this small story~

This is so stupid, y/n thought as she heard the line on her phone connecting. The thought of her calling a phone sex line was not something she had on her bingo card. The idea only lingered in her mind when her friend had mentioned she had called this line and had such a good time, that y/n should try it out as there was a particular operator who had such a smooth and sensual voice, that she simply had to share this with y/n.

Mentally y/n laughed as she wasn’t prone to peer pressure, but it was enticing. What kind of voice did the operator have? What would he say exactly? What kind of tone did he use? All these questions made her dial the number her friend provided for her, and here she was regretting her decision as soon as she heard the ringing.

The line quickly changed and thinking she was being connected, the voice of an automatic operator took over.

“Thank you for calling Naughty or Nice Hotline, if you wish to be connected to the next available operator please stay on the line, if you know the operator you would like to connect to, please enter their line number now followed by the pound sign”

“Naughty or nice hot line?” She couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesy name they had. She was sure that her friend might just be pulling a prank on her but she still continued.

As her friend instructed, once at the automotive menu, she had to press the number 8 to get the operator she was referring to. After pressing the number 8 followed by the # the line went silent for a moment. At this point y/n felt her heart beat pounding.

“Hello” the caller at the other end of the line finally spoke.

Y/n wanted to hang up, as realistically she didn’t think she would allow herself to get as far as she did, and now she is actually talking with a phone sex operator.

“H-hi” she managed to talk

“Nervous are we?” She could hear the playful tone of the man whose voice was soft.

“Umm…yeah” she was now embarrassed and turning a shade of pink.

“Don’t be, we can start slow” he reassured her, which was nice but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do this.

“I…I’m” she paused wondering if she should introduce herself with her real name or a fake name. Would it matter? He’s never met her or will ever meet her.

“You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to, I can just call you darling, is that alright with you?” He asked with such tenderness that made y/n blush and bite her lips.

“Yeah, I’d like that….I ummm…im not sure…about all this” she confessed. She wasn’t a stranger to sex, but the whole phone sex line and talking to a man she’s never met made her nervous and a little off put.

“It’s okay darling, we are just having a conversation, we don’t need to do anything else” The way he said it, made it seem like he was really okay with just talking, there was no mean spirited tone, no teasing or any hint of disdain. Feeling a bit more calm because of this she continued on.

“Do you have a name? Or I don’t suppose you wouldn’t give that out would you?” She chuckled while shaking her head, of course why would he give her his real name?

“I can go by any name, you can call me whatever you like”

She pondered for a moment, thinking of a name to call him. “8” she spoke without really thinking it fully through.

“8?” He was genuinely intrigued by this name.

“I sorry” she laughed, “I figured…your line is the number 8…it’s not very creative, I know” she admitted it was a bit ridiculous but it’s not like it really mattered.

“It’s truly unique” he laughed,

god even his laugh was dreamy, she couldn’t help but to laugh with him.

“So what made you call in? I don’t suppose you went out of your way to get an erotic hotline number for kicks, did you?” The question made her laugh more , not knowing if she should answer honestly that her friend told her to talk so she can talk to him specifically. Would that be weird? Or was he used to this already?

“No, I didn’t. My friend recommended this…I feel silly for actually going through with it if I’m honest, ” she sighed deeply, she really didn’t know why she was so honest with him.

“It’s alright. Again, if you feel so strongly about it, you can disconnect, there won’t be any hard feelings” he reassured her again with his velvety voice, one that made her want to stay and talk to him.

“No it’s okay...can I ask you something actually ?” She bit her lip softly.

“Anything”

“Do you enjoy this? You know the whole erotic hot line business?” She tried her best not to insult his line of work.

“I don’t mind it, It definitely was not something I saw myself ever doing but life is funny that way isn’t it?” she nodded at his response, as it wasn’t one she had expected. She assumed he would say something along the lines of ‘of course I do’.

“Do you…..” she stopped, wondering if she should ask this.

“Do I what darling?” He asked with a curious and warm tone.

“Do you also….enjoy it?” She was now red as a tomato asking such an intimate question, then again it was a erotic hotline, this might not be as intimate as anything else he’s gotten, right?

The voice at the other end took a moment before answering, she wondered if this was maybe a little too much of a personal question to ask a hotline worker.

“Sometimes, yes. I do enjoy myself on a call but in reality it’s not as often as you would think”

“Are you at least enjoying this call?” She joked.

“I’m enjoying it very much”

“Are you lying?”

“Never” he didn’t think about it twice, again the call wasn’t sexual but the suave he carried in voice, she could see why many women would call in.

The conversation never took a sexual turn, they talked on the line about many things; their favorite movies, their favorite genres of music, even their favorite books. Y/n found out that he was a fan of dancing, as he has been a dancer. She couldn’t help but to share about her life to him as well, how she worked a corporate job, how she spent her days. The conversation moved effortless and seamless until y/n noticed the time, nearly 3am and here she was on the line still.

“It’s getting late, I think I’ve taken up a lot of your time already, I’m sure others are waiting”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, you were my last call, and even then I’d enjoy you for as long as you allow me to”, his comment made her blush red now.

“I guess this is bye” she felt her heart sink a little

“I would say this is good night darling, hope to hear from you soon” the call soon disconnected.

Setting her phone to her nightstand, she smiled as she thought of the man.

“See you soon”

[ghostwritesthings]

The Strength of A Mothers Love

Summary: Your daughter is taken by fireflies who have one goal in mind, you aren’t letting them. No matter what it takes, as you’re there you run into some other people.

Warnings// canon violence, guns, mentions of blood, knife, implied past trauma??, readers age isn’t mentioned but she’s able to have children, only readers daughter has a specified age which is 3 years old , reader isn’t described but daughter has red hair, readers last name is Woods but first name isn’t specified just Y/N.

I believe that’s all but let me know if I missed anything:)

“You aren’t taking her, you won’t ruin her life like you did mine.”

“Don’t you understand this could change the world.”

———————————————————————————

You feel like an outsider looking in when in reality it’s you doing this. You have one goal in mind, save her. You walk through the halls emotionless, disconnected as you gun down everyone that comes along until you switch to your knife, and pick up guns along the way. You have blood splattered on you but you don’t even recognize it’s theirs. You make it to the operating room and silently look through the glass window, what you find isn’t what you were expecting.

“Unhook them.”

Doctor Andersen looks up at me, “Woods.. How’d you get here.”

“1 said unhook them NOW”

“I can’t let you do tha-“

A single gunshot as the nurses scream but I don’t care, all I see is them.

“Unhook the girls, you on the left go to her. You on the right unhook the teenager and I’ll let y’all go.” I sound calmer than I feel. I glance at the man who’s staring at me as if I’m from his imagination and not actually here.

“Cover their arms and step away facing that wall.” They soon do as asked and before they can let out a scream I’ve shot them both, I feel nothing for them. I walk to the man, I put my gun in my waistband and raise my hands slowly,

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m gonna cut your ties and if you don’t hurt me I won’t hurt you got it?”

He simply nods almost unnoticeable but I see it. I kneel and that’s when I notice what he looks at, my bicep. The mark that has haunted me every night since it happened, when the infected took everything from me and left me to survive it alone. I say nothing as I untie him he deserves to see his girl too. We exchange a look as he gets up that says everything it needs to ,a silent thank you for helping me when you didn’t have to.

I walk to the table on the left, my little girl looking so peaceful, unaware of all the violence I committed to protect her.

“Maxine” I say so breathlessly, barely a whisper slipping past my lips. I scoop her up one arm supporting her head where her beautiful red hair falls just a bit in her face, the other underneath her legs to cradle her as I turn to leave. What I don’t see is the man, whose name I still don’t even know, doing the exact same to his girl silent as he feels his relief.

I turn to look and decide to speak up first,

“Everyone in the building is gone, I don’t know where Marlene is though so watch out for her, take this gun it’s fully loaded.”

I wasn’t expecting a response but

“Names Joel, if you want you can come with us… I’ve got a car and somewhere safe you can take her. It’s the least I can do for you.”

“Let’s make it out of here first then we can talk about it.”

We both head to the door in our own little worlds holding our girls, I follow him down to the parking garage where there is in fact a running car. As we begin to walk over to the car she appears.

“You can’t keep them safe forever…”

I begin tuning her out, looking for an out. No one else is arou-

“Y/N, you really think you can protect Maxine for the rest of her life? What happens when you can’t get to her in time..what happens when raiders get a hold on her they don’t hold back because she’s a kid. What happens when she goes through what you did with your mother, who will care for her then?”

Marlene’s gun is pointed straight into the center of my chest, I know she would never pull the trigger, she’s known me since I was a child, knew my mother, she could never kill me.

“I am her mother, I will protect her until the day I fucking die and this isn’t your choice, she’s three fucking years old. You ruined my life the day you found out about my immunity, you never cared for what my mother would’ve wanted for me and I know my mom would’ve done the same for me in this moment. You don’t get to try to turn this shit on me because you want to look for a cure that doesn’t exist.”

She goes to speak again but within seconds my gun has gone off and she’s fallen to the ground. I don’t register it at first, almost like second nature at this point. Joel and I walk towards the car as he sets the teenager into the passenger seat as I put Maxine in the passenger seat to hold her. Marlene lets out a grunt and as Maxine is now set safely in the passenger seat I walk towards her. Joel right behind me following,

“Y/N please don’t..”

“I know you will just come after them and that’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

She attempts one more plea but my gun goes off to put one last bullet through her head. Joel silently wonders to himself, why does she care so much about a girl she’s never met?

As we ride off in the car all I can do is look down at Maxine for a while, Joel and I sitting in a comfortable quiet processing everything that happened before he speaks up.

“My names Joel that’s Ellie” he says as he checks on her through the rear view mirror.

“I’m Y/N, this is my daughter Maxine.”

“What did Marlene want with your daughter if you don’t mind me askin’”

“I’m immune and she’s my biological daughter, they wanted to open her up and see if my immunity could transfer to my children and since she was born they’ve been after me. I’ve been running for years but they managed to catch up to me and take her.”

He tells me about Ellie and how they met and Marlene tasked him to get her there without telling him how it would happen.

“My brothers got a place in Wyoming, I can get you there and into a home with Maxine. Got runnin water, electricity and plenty of food, you can raise her up without worrying about anything again. It’s completely safe and it’s the least I can do for you for saving me n her.”

Looking over at him for a moment in silence I mull it over a bit. Doesn’t seem bad and he seems honest, raising Max somewhere I can guarantee her safety is the only thing I’ve wanted since the day she was born, I couldn’t protect everyone else but I can protect her.

“I’d like that, you don’t owe me anything that girl is a child, she can’t make a decision like that without knowing everything.”

As we drive I feel that maybe everything will be ok again, I feel a bond forming with the stranger I met in an operating room who’s daughter I saved and maybe this new chapter will be good for Maxine and I.

———————————————————————————

Authors note// here’s a really bad fic lol I tried my best I’m still learning so don’t be too hard please? Let me know if anyone wants me to write something for them:)

[chevelleneech]

Y’all be sounding so well thought out with some of y’all’s analyses of Jimin and Jungkook’s actions and words, that I be nodding along and ready to click reblog, but then y’all swan dive off into the most biased and ridiculous takes.

Thinking any of us can sus out when JM and JK have hurt each other on any level deeper than what we see, especially moments where they are only seen laughing and smiling on screen, is crazy talk. I have said this before too, about the idea that they suffer from serious jealousy at times.

We do not know that and have no reason to think that if they’re together, jealousy plays any part in their relationship. It is a natural reaction and I’m sure has made appearances, but a lot of y’all think they get jealous over other members, and assert it as a fact. A lot of y’all think they are hurt when the other does this or that with their other friends, and assert it as a fact.

Crazy.

Giving your opinion on surface level stuff, and then saying, “Maybe” something else might be going on is fine. But the way y’all be like “I do think he was hurt for (insert reason), and that’s why he did (insert thing).” doesn’t make any sense to me, because the only reason you think he was hurt, is because you yourself need to make up a reason for why he did a thing you either don't agree with or don’t understand, and that’s not what an unbiased opinion is.

We cannot decide Jimin and Jungkook’s feelings for them, and then present them as proof of a relationship. We can only interpret what we see and hear, and discuss why it appears to point toward or against a relationship.

So I can say: “Jungkook seemingly being more annoyed at Jimin for not agreeing the pink sausage was indeed pink sausage and not ham, leads me to think he felt playfully vindicated that Jimin got it wrong instead of trusting his taste buds given how often they imply JK cooks for him. Whereas, he didn’t really acknowledge Tae being wrong, because he wasn’t as shocked Tae didn’t believe him, since it’s likely Tae simply isn’t aware of how good JK’s sense of taste is.” — Saying that keeps my thoughts separate from what actually happened, because I can’t say for certain JK felt any of those emotions nor had any of those thoughts. It just appears that way given the context.

What I can’t say: “Jungkook flinched at Jimin for not agreeing the pink sausage was pink sausage, because he cared more about what Jimin thought than Tae, and Jimin not trusting/believing him hurt him a little. So he expressed himself by flinching at him, because his instinct was to rub it in his face.” That is completely subjective, and assigns both emotions and thoughts we have no way of knowing he had or felt.

It is perfectly okay to try your best to be objective, because no one should be having completely subjective opinions on what’s going on between JM and JK, because we don’t know them on a personal level.

This is also why Tkkrs will never get me to see their side clearly. They do not operate with an as objective view point as possible. Everything on their end is subjective, because their interpretations are often based on their wants and not the reality of what is being shared with us. So it’s odd to me to see so many Jikookers veering down that route lately. You guys are wanting situations to be this or that, instead of interpreting what the situation is or appears to be.

[chryza]

Presidential debate SICK ASS REACTIONS.

“The microphones will only be turned on during their turn to speak” thank the lord they finally learned

“VP Harris you and President Trump (sic.) were elected four years ago” I hope to god that it was a slip and not an omen.

Harris coming right out and attacking project 2025 is pretty pog anyway I hope she kills him. I’m still skeptical about her in a lot of ways and I’m not a fan of the continuing imperialist military industrial complex ie genocide. but fuck me she’s not a raving lunatic or a decrepit dude with dementia so like. Fuck man I’ll take it.

he keeps saying “as she knows” to try and ruin her credibility which might be effective if he didn’t immediately then verbally veer off the road and crash into a tree

WHY DID THEY TURN HIS MICROPHONE ON. THEY SHOULD HAVE JUST LET HIM FUCKING TALK TO AN EMPTY STUDIO IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO FUNNY.

I hope Kamala kills him. I’m obsessed with the way she keeps laughing at him. KILL HIM.

“She’s a marxist” this is the only time in my life I wish trump was right I fucking wish Kamala Harris was that cool.

[on abortion] “When the baby is born they will decide what to do with the baby and they will EXECUTE the baby” i don’t even have a quip to add the quote speaks for itself

Live Kamala Reaction your opponent just said Tim Walz wants to “Execute Babies”

The MODERATOR being like “there is no state where it’s legal to kill a baby after it’s born” is KILLING ME

Harris does sound legitimately incensed about abortion rights which is a massive W for her, I fully believe she would crack down on restrictions to women’s healthcare

Harris “I invite you to attend one of trump’s rallies and what you’ll hear is him talking about fictional characters like Hannibal Lector, how windmills cause cancer, and you’ll see people leaving early out of exhaustion and boredom” YES. BLOOD. BLOOD.

SHE KNEW EXACTLY WHAT SHE WAS DOING HE IS NOW SOOOO MAD SHE IMPLIED PEOPLE WERE BORED OF HIM AAAAAAHAHAHA I AM MAKING TRIXIE MATTEL SEAGULL NOISES RN

Shown: watching Trump take the bait hook line and sinker

My mom sent me memes so I knew about this beforehand but

“THEYRE EATING THE PETS OF THE PEOPLE OF OUR COUNTRY”

*further trixie bird noises*

[Harris] “This is why I have the endorsement of former Vice President Dick Cheney” that’s NOT A GOOD THINGGGGG I don’t know if it’s like trying to be bipartisan but girl this is NOT the way

I need them to stop turning on Trumps microphone. Just leave it off

I TOOK A BULLET TO THE HEAD BECAUSE OF THEM

KAMALA I SUPPORT FRACKING HARRIS EVERYONE

WHAT ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT ANYMOREEEE THIS IS SUCH A SHITSHOW

“Strength as a leader is not about beating people down it’s about lifting people up” Bold words from a woman who is actively delighting in mocking her opponent, to be clear I think it is an objectively good thing, I simply think this is a hilarious thing to say ten minutes post Live Kamala Reaction

“NOW SHE WANTS TO DO TRANSGENDER OPERATIONS ON ILLEGAL ALIENS IN PRISON”

Most of what trump says is just bloviating nonsense but I am noticing that Kamala Harris is very good at making her words sound nice while not actually saying much of substance. This is not a specific indictment against her because it’s a very Politician thing, but she isn’t actually saying much here.

[moderator] So do you acknowledge now that you lost the 2020 election

[trump] No it was obviously sarcasm

[moderator] I did watch all of the videos where you said that and I didn’t detect the sarcasm.

Trump, on Biden: I’ll let you in on a little secret, [Biden] hates her *pointing to Harris*

Okay so Harris is a proponent of a two-state solution for Israel and Palestine and is opposed to civilian mass-murder. I don’t even know how to begin to touch that with a ten foot pole and the whole situation feels so confusing to me in general. Overall she seems Anti-Civilians-Being-Slaughtered in the name of self-defense but then in the same breath assures that Israel needs support to defend itself from Iran so. Wow sounds like a whole mess of colonization practices that have deliberately destabilized a region that can’t easily be nuanced in a single answer

[Trump] “If she becomes President Israel won’t exist within two years” God I wish Harris was half as cool as he makes her out to be.

“I WOULD GET [PUTIN AND ZELENSKY] ON THE PHONE AND GET THE WHOLE THING SETTLED.”

Kamala Harris PUTIN WOULD EAT TRUMP FOR LUNCH put that on a check and take it to the bank I love national television

I love Harris essentially dishing the hot goss on Trump negotiating with the Taliban. Is this the platform to do it? No. But this is practically kayfabe at this point anyway. Do I even care

What a shitshow. Harris has zero high horse here, she refused to answer basic questions about position in an attempt to remain bipartisan, Trump endlessly blathered about nonsense. Kamala Harris won the debate, but to be frank, trump could lose to a mildly literate dog.