#having a kid gave them something more important to fight for

[ichxgo]

He sighs again, tired. “Think they settled on pit fighting in Ghana. Assholes. It never would’ve took.” Said with the driest, least amused voice he’s got. And he could be wrong, he got so many different pieces of that conversation. He might’ve ended up as spare parts just as easily.

That has him frowning again, more thoughtfully this time. He wants to find those people. There were kids. He's also betting that's not what Shiro wants him to do just yet. His eyes track to his own body. Even if he found them, he isn’t sure he could do much but go off to die again. He’d have to send someone else. Kisuke would know who. 

But that next wording pulls a smile from him. He even rolls his eyes with a snort. “Right. And since I’m not making a living I’ll just crash here, eat all your food, and wait in your bed for sex all day long.” As if. Sounds like a wet dream Shiro might come up with. Actually, he wouldn’t mind any of that except for the part where he becomes a lifelong sponge. And he still has a day job, which he does like. “You should quit your job, and stay in my bed instead.” He sobers though, pushing his glass back toward Shiro. Eager to dull… everything. “That’s not how it works, and you know it. People don’t die conveniently when they’re ready, unless it’s by their own hand. One of us will bury the other. That’s all relationships. Not just the dangerous ones.” But… He swallows, and does offer, “I’ll try harder to stay alive. I’ll try to make sure it isn’t you.” 

He hates it. He wants Shiro to keep living. That’s never seemed to be what was most important to Shiro though. And he knows he hurt Shiro as bad as he could’ve this time. Quieter, “I know you hate being alone.”

When Shiro hands over his personal phone, Ichigo freezes hard enough he doesn’t even reach for it. He never touches Shiro’s phone. Maybe he handed it to him once. But there’s a boundary there and Shiro just flew across it so easily, it leaves Ichigo stunned as he finally lifts a hand to take it. His breath comes out all at once in something almost amused if it wasn’t so breathless. “I didn’t mean yours.” He gave him a ring, and Shiro gave him his phone. He thinks the phone is more impressive. But he doesn’t dwell, he dials the number. “They should be in the south by now. With my dad’s side of the family. I wanted to stay and make sure they got there, but...” There wasn’t time.

It all crashes in on him at once. The anxiety he hadn’t even realized was waiting on the edges. What if there’s no answer? What if someone found them? What if they’re already dead? He might be sick. His fucking fingers are shaking. He didn’t have time for more. He gave them as much money as he could get his hands on and shoved them onto a train. 

"Better than whatever was about to happen to you ." It's kind of grumbled.

Somehow he's not surprised that among Ichigo's first thoughts is the fate of whoever was there with him. It's honestly a good thing those others were gone, because Ichigo would have wanted to save them too and Shiro probably wouldn't have bothered, at least not if he was being pressed. Ichigo would have been his priority, not random strangers. "I'm not surprised. It's hard to hide a group of people if you stay in the same place too long."

He would have settled for a generic answer like i'll so my best or even a lie, but of course Ichigo has to be too honest. He'd hate it if Ichigo lied anyway. Dammit. He sighs. "You don't even have to work, you know. You don't have to be doing dangerous shit at all." He knows Ichigo will never agree to that. The work he does is only partly about the money.

Tugging his phone out of his back pocket, he hands it over for Ichigo to use. It's the same number he's always had, so he assumes which ever twin Ichigo calls will pick up, assuming they still recognize his number. He should have thought of Ichigo's sisters. He should have known that would be a top priority for Ichigo. He hadn't even considered it. He shakes his head. "No, I didn't. I was focused on getting you fixed up."

[rin-may-1103]

Biggest Regret. (Part Two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Bruce had finally found a peaceful moment to sit down and go through his work emails; there were no sibling homicide fights, prank wars, and thankfully no vigilante-related headaches.

Just a peaceful afternoon; normal polluted Gotham skies, the usual city ruckus of honking horns and shouting, and the constant footsteps back and forth past his closed office door.

taking a sip from his old mug, Bruce opened his laptop. Quickly typing in his password for the hour, he made his way to his email. surprisingly, less than 90 emails were waiting for him. Usually, he had hundreds to go through.

hmmm. Another check for this being a suspiciously good day then, it just made him more anxious for when the other shoe would fall.

peaceful for Gotham, for him, never meant anything good. It always happened right before a tragic event or large-scale Arkham breakout. he could hope for it to just be a peaceful day, but he knew wishful thinking was useless.

taking another sip, Bruce started scrolling through his emails, reading the subject lines to sort through which ones were more important. After a few minutes of reading, Bruce stopped and reread the second to last email's title, his eyebrows furrowing:

A Video From Your Son.

Now, Bruce was truly confused; Why would one of his kids email him? let alone through his public work email? They've been told multiple times to email him through the bat-email if it contains anything important or time-sensitive. Heck, they've been told to just text him it if it was important, he always answers a text faster than an email.

His Bruce Wayne email was notoriously ignored for multiple days; mostly for his cover story, but also because he spends most of his time doing Batman stuff. (Reading Wayne Enterprises emails usually wasn't something at the top of his list, the kids know this.)

so, then why would one of them email him?

hmm. maybe? maybe one of the boys set up a long-term prank or something. They know how long it takes for him to read his emails, so maybe they sent it knowing it would take a while, which means they had plenty of time to set something up.

yes, that's it. it makes total sense.

Clicking on the email, he was greeted with a boy (who looked a lot like Damian, but who most certainly wasn't) sitting gravely on a wooden box in some dark warehouse.

sitting up straight, Bruce set his mug down and studied the paused video. the boy looked so much like Damian that Bruce almost wanted to believe he was a clone. but his bright stern blue eyes and and apparent freckles pushed the idea away.

Yes, clones can have imperfections, especially when made in a rush, but never something as drastic as the wrong eye color or a genetic quality the one being cloned didn't have. Unless, the one making the clone had no idea what they were doing, but Bruce doubted Talia would have allowed someone to take Damian's DNA before he was given to Bruce.

and the boy on screen had scars, lots of scars, meaning if he was a clone then he was made before Bruce even knew of Damian.

hmm.

there were no clues provided in the kid's surroundings; the warehouse was surprisingly empty of anything important or telling. the kid had even chosen a spot where Bruce couldn't tell if it was day or night, or if the lights were on. which took away the usual ways of figuring out where the boy was.

No sky meant he couldn't calculate the general area based on season and celestial bodies. And because he couldn't tell if the light was from industrial lighting or daylight, he couldn't cross out warehouses with electricity. The kid was smart. smarter than the average citizen at least.

he was also wearing discreet clothing; which meant Bruce couldn't trace him through that either.

leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, Bruce pressed play and gave the video his full attention.

The boy on screen sat in silence for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. his hands rested in his lap, his poster rather relaxed as he sat on his wooden crate.

"This is video eight." the boy spoke, his voice rough with sleepless nights and yelling. Did he yell at people often? or had he gotten into a fight previously? there were seven other videos, but this was the first one Bruce saw. he'd have to go back and see if he had somehow missed them.

"don't worry, you didn't miss anything." the boy chuckled humorously, running one of his hands through his hair. Bruce noted that it shook, the kid was probably nervous, or hungry. the kid looked too skinny to be healthy...

"no, this is just the eighth time I've had to record this." the boy continued, dropping his hand back into his lap as he slumped forward, his black hair falling into his face.

"this video," he continued, not glancing up, "is for Bruce Wayne's eyes only."

there were still no visual tells on where the boy was, not even audio cues for Bruce to study. frowning, Bruce rested his head on his hands, taking in everything the boy said.

"Hi Dad," Bruce sucked in a breath, tensing up as the kid finally glanced back at the camera.

"I'm Danny. you likely don't know I exist, and if you're receiving this; I'm already dead." he chuckled like the thought of his death was laughable. "well, more dead than I already was." he snorted, shaking his head in a way that reminded Bruce of Damian when he was exasperated or disappointed.

"Maybe it's cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem," Danny, the kid's name is Danny, looked away. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he continued, "But you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would've put you in danger."

Danny let out a breath as he pulled his legs up onto the crate, "this email is set to automatically send if I haven't opened my laptop for three days. I sometimes set it longer if I'm expecting trouble or going to be away for a while, but I've most likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you're receiving this."

Danny looked so tired as he looked back at the camera, the dark bags under his eyes worse than even Tim's after a week-long investigation.

"I don't know who killed me. Obviously, I'm recording this in advance... I have my suspicions though. it was most likely either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons." Danny reached beside him and held up a two pictures, "This is Maddie and Jack Fenton, and this," another picture, "is some GIW agents."

Danny snorted as he glanced at the GIW agents, their startled faces slightly blurry as Danny stood in front of them and took a selfie. bruce wasn't sure if he was amused or not that the kid took a selfie with his potential murderers but then again, Bruce could see all of his children doing it too. (Bruce could also see himself doing it.)

"i half-died at 14," Danny suddenly added, tossing the pictures to the side. "became the local ghost superhero..."

he stared off to the side for a moment, "but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost me apart molecule by molecule." Danny glanced back at the camera before his eyes widened, "my parents! I mean, my parents and the GIW wanted to tear me apart, not the town! though they probably wouldn't have disagreed with it if asked..."

"anyway," Danny shook his head, "my money's on that being what happened..." Danny looked down at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time, "there will be nothing left of me to bury..."

"Sorry about that!" he suddenly added, a bright smile on his face. Bruce could tell it was strained, forced in hopes of not upsetting him.

"you'd probably have to cremate me if there was, it'd be a waste of wood to get me a coffin... though I'd really prefer if I wasn't set on fire," Danny chuckled, trying to hide a full-body shiver.

He sat in silence for a moment before Danny continued, "The rest of the story is this: I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of nine. they sent me on a mission and I just had to take the opportunity. I successfully faked my death."

Danny sat up now, fully focusing on the camera, "My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that's the reason I'm reaching out to you."

Danny let his feet fall off the edge as he grabbed something from next to him, keeping it out of view for now. "you're a civilian," Danny stated like it was a fact he knew to be true.

Bruce clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself still so he could focus on what Danny was telling him. he wished he could reach through the screen and hold the boy, whether he was his son or not, he obviously was talking about the league which meant Talia hadn't told him.

Talia hadn't told him, and if he was anything like Damian, then he would have no reason to believe otherwise.

"If you know too much about the League of Assassins you'll be in danger, but I need you to save my twin Damian." Danny's words were like a final nail in the coffin, the final straw to keeping his heart from breaking again.

it was true, it had to be. How would Danny have this information otherwise?

"he's likely still there after all these years. he never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. he's probably going to be stabby: he's an assassin after all, but it's not his fault. Ra's, our grandfather, indoctrinated him a lot more successfully than he did me. Damian was more susceptible to it... it's not his fault." Danny repeated, clenching the object he had grabbed.

"Please," Danny pleaded, "save him. I'm begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please take it."

Danny bit his lip and glanced down at his lap, "I w-," he quickly glanced around before shaking his head, "I long for a time when it would have been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I've seen of you on the news with your oldest kids."

he looked up with a water smile, "I bet you're like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I still don't know how you managed that, it's been six years." Danny chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"This is my, um, my old league sigil." Danny held up the object he had been holding, revealing a golden disk with thick rope connected to it. it had the demon head's symbol on it.

"A coat of arms. I'll leave it somewhere for you. hopefully, you can use it to get to Damian." Danny gently placed it back on the box. "I'm keeping it in a box in the walls of my room. You should be able to find it."

"I wish you and your family the best," Danny sniffed, looking back at the camera. "thank you for listening. From your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton."

Bruce stared at the paused video for a minute, just trying to process everything he just saw. he needed confirmation, he knew it was true, it had to be, there's no way Danny could fake this. but Bruce needed to confirm. make sure he isn't seeing things.

absently, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed his youngest's, was he still the youngest? or was Danny? number.

the tone didn't even ring longer than five seconds before his son's voice echoed into the silent office, "Father."

"Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?" Bruce asked, not cutting around the bush.

dead silence, he couldn't even hear Damian's breath.

then, "...Who told you?"

Damian's voice wasn't angry or fearful, it was sad and confused and wavered like the last leaf on a tree clinking on for dear life in a blizzard. it cemented the break in Bruce's heart as he stared at the tearful face of his son, his son who claimed to be dead already.

hanging up, Bruce quickly sent the video to Damian and waited. he needed a minute to process what just happened. Clicking play, Bruce rewatched the video, hoping to find another clue.

Damian called back a few minutes later, the sound of Danny's voice echoing in the background telling Bruce his son had watched and rewatched the video just like he had.

"Father. I do not care what state he is in, even if there is only a single molecule left. I'm going to bring him home. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny, the truth."

"I couldn't agree more, Damian," Bruce grunted, standing up. Pushing his chair in, he turned his laptop off and made his way to his office door. "I'll be home soon, gather the others. tell them all hands on deck."

"yes, Father," Robin replied, hanging up not even a second later.

Shoving his phone in his pocket and opening his office door, Batman started making his way home.

Next

[bookishdreamer28]

₊˚‧︵‿꒰୨ 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ୧꒱‿︵‧˚₊

You couldn't see a thing. Your eyes were covered with a blindfold and all you could sense was the dark and cold energy that was radiating in the room they kept you in. It all happened too fast to remember anything right now.

"You can't keep me here forever! If you want to loo for something or someone, I'm not the person who can help you!" You loudly said so they could hear me from the other side of the closed door. Heavy footsteps approached the room you were in and you held your breath, as you waited for what was going to happen next. Once the door opened, the steps kept walking and stepped right in front of you.

The person in front of me kneeled down. He hooks my chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger and thumb.

"Why do you keep lying sweetheart?" The heavy voice of this man gave goosebumps to your whole body. It was so familiar...

"I'm not lying! You caught the wrong person and it's so frustrating that you don't even have the courtesy to explain why-"

"Ssh" His gloved fingers touched your lips and a burned sensation appeared in your stomach.

Then you felt him standing up and walked away.

He opened the door and talked to one of his guards you assume, but you was too deep in thought to bother hearong what they were saying. All you heard was that he was going to keep you company for the night.

When he closed the door, you heard his footsteps halting in front of you.

Then his hands were unwrapping the blindfold and it took you a second to get used to the bright light in the room, before your eyes fell on the figure staring down at you.

Your eyes widened as watched your best friend crouching down to your level, a worrying expression painted on his face.

"Are you ok? Are- are you hurt?"

You were speechless for a moment before your shocked expression turned into an angry one.

"Are yoy kidding me Caleb? I- I thought you were...and now you-.. what the fuck is going on?" Your eyes were stinging as tears made their way down to your cheek. The sight broke Caleb's heart into tiny pieces and all he wanted to do was to hold you in his arms. But he knew better than crossing boundaries right now.

"Love...I know you probably hate me so much right now and it pains me so much. But I had to do what I did. They were after you and-"

"I can't believe that our...friendship was based on lies." Calbed turned pale. He was scared that now he was going to lose you for good. He knew that he had hurt you with his actions but he felt like it would've been better than seing your hurt in the hands of the people who were after him. He promised to himself that he will never let anyone or anything hurt you, and he was going to keep it that way.

"Love what we had, and what I hope we still have, was never based on lies. My feelings for you are true. You mean the world to me. I had to act cold and distant now because the rest of my team was watching. I had to somehow keep you safw by showing them you're not important to me."

"Well, apparently I'm not."

"Listen to me please!" Caleb softly grabbed your forearms.

"You are my world, you are my best friend and damn it I- I wish I was more... I want to be more because I-"

His words never left his mouth, because all he could was just staring at you. Your eyes, your hair, your nose and your...lips. Those lips that he had never got the chance to kiss them and dreamed for so long.

"Caleb?" You whispered, defeated with this fight already. You knew him. Deep down you wanted to believe that what he did was actually for your own good.

"Please..." He exhaled as his face came closer to yours.

"What?" Your eyes fell on his lips.

"Kiss me. Please kiss me love." His voice trembled with emotion and you gulped down your own sobs.

This whole situation made you realize just how much you truly meant to each other. And since it has been so long aince the last time you talked, now it was time that no more words should be exchanged. But for actions to finally speak.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you kissed him like he was going to disappear any time soon. Like you were watching a dream and you were scared that your time was limited. You needed this as much as he did.

He moaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you close to his warm and strong body. But Caleb interrupted your kiss by pulling away for a moment and amde you whined.

"Caleb as much as I want to talk about how stupid your decision was to keep secrets from me, now's not the time."

"I'm sorry love I just need to know if you truly want this-" you answered by kissing him more.

As you were going at it, Caleb picked you up and placed on the small office on the other side of the room. He just couldn't hold back.

When you finally pulled back, Caleb was unable to open his eyes for a few moments. It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of you trying catch your own breath. Caleb cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over your soft skin.

"It was you, who kept me going. You were leaving in my thoughts the whole time I was trapped in nothing but darkness. I'm not deserving of your forgiveness and I'm willing to grovel for you my love. But nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever stop this heart" he softly grabbed your hand and placed on top of where his heart beats "beating for you."

Your glassy eyes knly stared at him for a moment and then a soft smile appeared on your face, making Caleb smiled widely at the sight.

"Always you." You said as you omce again kissed him, pouring all the love you had in you into it. Even thought you spent so much time away from each other, one thing for sure is that your souls were connected. And there will never be nothing to break this connection.

I got so excited when his trailer dropped that I HAD to post something ASAP!!!!!

[trulybetty]

third time is a charm | part two

pairing: dr. jack abbot x gn!reader word count: 1,888 warnings: grumpy x sunshine, minor mentions of a laceration reader receives, talk of a minor medical procedure, very tame to what is shown on screen, competency kink continues to be itched estimated reading time: 8 minutes summary: it seems the universe is intent on throwing you in the path of dr. jack abbot ao3: linked

« part one | part three »

Third Time Is a Charm Part Two.

Jack was halfway down the hall of the ED, mentally counting how long was left in his shift, when Lena, the night shift charge nurse, flagged him down.

“Hey, I need you on four,” she said, tapping the corresponding file folder on the counter of the hub, the heart of the Emergency Department. “Been waiting over two hours, and I need that bed.”

Jack glanced at the assignment screen, where there weren’t any details assigned to the name and the bed number, then back at Lena. “Then throw it to one of the interns.”

“I would, but they’re all with Robby on that MVC overflow. It’s either you or we let triage back up even more, and we wait for Gloria to come down and complain—again.”

He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anything I should know?”

“Nope,” she popped on the pronunciation, “Deep hand laceration. Bleeding had stopped by the time they brought them back.” Lena cocked an eyebrow at his exasperation, “You’ll survive.”

Jack muttered something that sounded like obscenities under his breath, but still turned towards bed four. Given the brief descriptor and the late hour, he was expecting some college kid or maybe a drunk idiot hurt in a bar fight. What he wasn’t expecting was you.

You were sitting up on the gurney, one hand wrapped in a polka-dot dish towel, which once upon a time had been mostly white, scrolling through your phone like you were in line at the DMV, not waiting on stitches.

His steps slowed.

While it had been a few weeks, he still recognized you instantly.

Looking up from your phone at the sound of the curtain being opened, you blinked, recognition dawning. Then smiled. “Oh, hey.”

Jack pulled back the curtain to close off the ward outside. “Please tell me this has nothing to do with your car.”

You shook your head, “In my defence,” you said brightly, “this wasn’t on purpose.”

He dropped onto the stool next to the bed and nodded at the dish towel around your hand, “Is that… from your kitchen?”

“It was the only clean thing I had,” you eyed it warily, “Well, clean-ish.”

Jack exhaled, heavy, “Of course it was.”

He rolled to the supply drawers, grabbing gloves and a suture pack. You tapped your outstretched feet together, watching him with a relaxed amusement that grated on him more than he’d like to admit.

“Let’s see it,” he says, nodding at your hand.

You peeled back the towel. The lack of pressure made you wince. Jack leaned in closer to examine the wound—a deep, jagged slice across your palm between your left thumb and forefinger. It’d stopped bleeding a while ago, but the edges were angry and starting to swell.

He huffed, “This could’ve used stitches hours ago,” he said, more to himself than you. “Any numbness? Tingling?”

“Nope. Just throbs.”

“You’re lucky. Could’ve cut something important.” He picked up the dishcloth as if it had offended him. He noticed the tomato sauce stains between the patches of blood, “This is not clean, by the way.”

You shrugged, “It was the best out of the bunch.”

He looked up from the suture kit he’d just pulled out, deadpan, “That’s not the win you think it is. Do you even have a first aid kit?”

You scrunched your nose, “I’ve got some band-aids somewhere.”

He gave you a pointed look: “Invest in a first aid kit.”

You grinned.

He sighed.

Straightening up, he prepared a shot of lidocaine. “This is going to sting,” he warned, and you hissed at the first injection of anesthetic. “Normally, I’d throw this to an intern, but the entire next generation of healthcare is on clean up from a multi-car pile-up.”

“I’m flattered.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he started to clean the wound, his touch brisk but careful.

“Let me guess, kitchen accident?”

“It was an avocado.”

“It come at you with a knife?”

“I only came at it with a spoon at first. Had it for a week waiting for it to go ripe, guess it had other ideas.”

He irrigated the wound and checked your range of motion. You were quiet for a beat, watching him thread a needle with a practiced hand. Evident that he could do this in his sleep if needed.

“You ever done this before?” you asked, lips twitching.

“Stitches?” Jack asks, pausing to look at you like he should ask if you hit your head, too.

“Yeah.”

Jack shook his head as he started the process of stitching your hand. “I’m an ER doctor.”

You tried not to squirm, even as you felt the ghost of the antiseptic burn a little at the edges and the tug of the first stitch pulled at your skin.

“You could be new, this is a teaching hospital, right?”

“I’m not, and it is.”

“Could be your first.”

He glances up, “You think I’d let you be my first?”

You shrugged with faux nonchalance, “Shame, could have been romantic.”

He worked in silence for a beat, “You’re lucky,” he says. “Could’ve hit a tendon.”

You hummed, watching him continue with the stitches, “Think I’ll get a cool scar?”

“Sure,” Jack muttered, “might want to come up with a better story for it though.”

“So, what name do I put down for my Yelp review?”

He paused slightly, needle midair—this was taking him twice as long.

He arched a brow, and you offered a smile in return.

“I just realized I’ve never gotten your name. Kinda rude. Since you know mine now.”

Jack huffed, “Actually, I don’t.”

You feigned offence. “Ouch. It’s in the file.”

“I didn’t read your file.”

“Well. That’s a little concerning.”

“I read what matters,” he offered by way of explanation.

“So, what name do I put down? Or do I just call you Dr. Jumper Cables?”

He finally glanced up, meeting your eyes.

“That thing still running?”

“Haven’t left the lights on since.”

“Doctor Jack Abbot,” he offered after a beat.

You nodded, letting it settle and running it over your tongue under your breath. “Okay, well, Dr. Abbot… you get four out of five stars.”

That earns you a stern look.

“What? It was a three-star—but you gained a bonus star for jump-starting my car the other week. Though maybe I shouldn’t mention that? You’ll have patients asking for oil changes with their stitches.”

He didn’t laugh. Not even remotely. But his mouth twitched, and you caught the way he ducked his head as a tiny smile fought its appearance.

Normally, he’d be calling in a nurse by now. Let them do the bandaging, offer advice on care and follow up. That’s what the protocols were for. What his time was technically supposed to be used for.

Instead, he rolled his chair over to the supply drawers and grabbed gauze, tape and a clean wrap. Gloves back on.

You watched him with a kind of relaxed amusement that does get under his skin, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Not because you’re mocking him—because you’re not bothered by him. Not in the way some people get with him. Even if some of it is mostly a result of his own doing.

He cleaned around the stitches, checking for residual bleeding, and wrapped it with careful, even pressure.

“Keep it dry,” he said, taping off the end. He held up a second unopened package of dressing, “and because I don’t want you using dishcloths again. Change this in twenty-four hours. Come back in five to seven days to get the stitches removed.”

“I’ll pencil it in.”

The moment was interrupted by a tannoy going off, ‘Abbott to trauma bay two’. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

“You’re all set.” He said, standing and peeling off his gloves.

You glanced down at your hand, flexing your fingers. Then up at him as he scribbled something on your chart, and headed for the curtain.

“Someone’ll be by with your paperwork.”

“Thanks,” you said, no teasing in your voice this time.

Jack gave you a short nod, hand on the privacy curtain. But just before he was about to pull it aside, he paused.

A smile—not a full, but a real one—crossed his face for the first time.

“Don’t forget to turn your headlights off and get yourself a damn first aid kit,” he said.

And then he was gone.

A Week Later.

The sky was dark, and the sidewalk outside the hospital was wet and salty from an early morning flurry that the wind had blown in. You’d managed to get in early at the walk-in clinic to get your stitches removed. It was healing nicely, they’d said who’d ever done the stitches did good work and was saving you from a gnarly scar. You’d smiled at this. But now, you were scowling at your phone.

For a Saturday morning at seven am, Uber’s prices were rising like it was New Year’s Eve. You weren’t sure what circus was in town, but it didn’t look like prices were going to go down anytime soon.

You weren’t dressed for waiting or public transit—you’d figured you’d be in and out. Your winter coat was holding up just enough, but the cold was still making its way in and soaking into your bones.

You were debating on walking partway home—maybe enough to cut the fare, figure out the bus schedule—when the glass doors hissed open behind you.

Jack stepped out, hitching his backpack onto his shoulder and pulling his scarf tighter against the cold.

He was glad for the extra sweater he’d left in his locker, padding out his coat. His badge was clipped to his hip still, his truck keys in one hand. He spots you immediately.

You offered him a small wave, “Oh, hi.”

He stopped in front of you, taking in your ungloved hand that was wrapped in a fresh dressing, and frowned. “Tell me you’re not driving.”

“Nope. Waiting for a ride.”

“Uber?”

“Kind of,” you flashed your phone screen, “surge pricing. I’m hoping that if I wait it out, it’ll drop.”

He grunted, “What happened to the hatchback?”

You hesitated, wrinkling your nose, “It… died.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Battery again?”

“No, not this time. Transmission, maybe? There were a lot of words and car parts mentioned that I still don’t understand. It made a noise, then coasted to a sad little death in front of a bakery.”

His brow lifted, “That tracks.”

“But hey, I got a good pastry and an amazing coffee out of it while I waited for the tow truck.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first. Just glanced down the road, then back to you.

“You’re over on 48th, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He knew it probably wasn’t going to do him any favours with what he was about to say next, “Want a ride?”

You hesitated, “Seriously?”

“It’s the festival today, Uber isn’t going to go down anytime soon, and half the roads are closed, so the buses are being rerouted.”

He started walking towards the employee lot, but looked back when he realized you weren’t following, “Come on,” he said, not breaking his stride.

You smiled and jogged to catch up with him.

[denwritesandcries]

Fall(ing for You) – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x soft goth!reader

Summary: Sam is certain that Tara's new quiet friend may turn out to be Ghostface, unfortunately – or not –, that friend is you.

or, it takes the help of tara and a dog for sam to finally come to her senses.

Word count: 6,0k.

Content: scream 6 but without the killing, r's 23, cursing, wingman tara ft. yr dog, jokes abt r being ghostface, fluff, pining, sam falling first AND harder, silly movie references.

Note: hey guys, It's been a while since I've written for scream but I rewatched it recently and finally got some inspiration again! I describe the reader a little more in this but it won't really affect anything if you choose to ignore it.

English is not my first language.

Tara made a new friend.

Sam still isn't sure exactly, but the only plausible explanation for the way Tara has been acting lately is that her sister met someone interesting enough to keep her attention so that she gave everyone a break from her tantrums and reckless behavior since their new start outside of Woodsboro.

Now, that could be a good thing, it had been months since the kids started college and they were all doing relatively well. Mindy had Anika, Chad had Ethan and also there was Quinn, even though she wasn't very close to anyone. Tara should have someone too.

The problem is that Sam has no idea who this person is. Tara just won't tell her.

You see, Sam understands that she might have been a little too protective of her sister and that this made Tara's behavior become defensive towards her. Her new therapist – after she got rid of that quack – is helping her work through that, okay? But curiosity and worry were eating away at her insides. The curfews, the tasers and pepper sprays, and especially the ID checks were all important to keep them safe, dammit! Mindy and Chad had no problem with it, and it was only after all the appropriate measures were in place that Sam could breathe and let these new people be a part of their lives. Not knowing this so-called friend, let alone who they were, was driving her to the brink of a breakdown.

She was trying to give her some space, probing with subtle questions here and there and the most she got was an eye roll and ‘It’s just a sophomore I met at the film club, haven't you said I should try to be part of something that didn’t involve frat parties?’

Well, at least it wasn’t a boyfriend, given the lack of dreamy sighs, giggles into the phone and late-night escapades. That was good. They already had enough problems to deal with and a new relationship so quickly was the same as asking for a ghostface to go for them again and Sam hadn’t been back in Tara’s life long enough to know how to deal with this part of being a big sister yet.

Sam had understood that she wouldn’t meet this mysterious person for a while, at least until her sister’s tantrum had passed, and between two shitty jobs and trying to keep a structured life being responsible for a bunch of teenagers in the big city, she couldn’t find it in herself to insist on the subject any further and get the risk of causing a fight. She thought it would be forgotten.

Now just imagine Sam's surprise when she came home one night after a long, exhausting shift, expecting to eat the leftover pizza she had hidden in the fridge and fall into a deep sleep, only to be knocked over by an noisy and strange dog with a piece of pizza in its mouth as soon as she opened the apartment door. Her pizza.

“Koda!” Someone called. Someone unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the dog, there was a stranger in her house.

Sam’s hand instinctively moves to reach for the taser hidden in her jacket when a pair of black-clad legs show up in her vision. Does Ghostface work with dogs now? She wonders in confusion for a moment, and has given up on the voice changer?

The only thing stopping her from tasing this potential killer in front of her is the pure bewilderment and Tara’s laughter filling the room.

“Oh my god,” the figure bends down, picking up the dog who turns out to be a very excited puppy, the pizza falling from its mouth and onto her shirt, getting it all over her, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s a girl, a face she’s never seen before, looking completely mortified.

“Hey, Sam,” Tara stops beside her, a barely hidden tone of satisfaction in her voice, “This is my friend. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

It's safe to say that Sam didn't like Tara's new friend at all.

“You didn’t think about telling me you were bringing someone?” Sam exclaimed, rubbing her temples wearily, “Especially that Lydia Deetz project right there? I almost shocked her in the middle of the hallway!”

Quinn shifted from where she was leaning against the counter in the small impromptu meeting and didn’t bother to hold back her laugh, “Nah, I think Tara would fit that role better.”

“Quinn,” Sam groaned exasperatedly.

“If I had told you you would have said no,” Tara shrugged.

“Yes! Because we don’t know her!”

It was quite awkward sitting on the couch in their living room less than five feet away from the kitchen and being able to hear every word spoken as if you weren't right there, with your messy dog ​​happily chewing on the sock on your ankle.

This wasn't the turn you expected your night to take when you decided to accept Tara's sudden invitation for a movie night, visiting her off-campus for the first time since you became friends.

You met her at the start of the school year, the day she showed up for a film club meeting before anyone else arrived, well, anyone except you. She seemed completely lost and suspicious, even though she was clearly struggling not to show it, which made you like her right away.

Getting attention and starting conversations was never really your thing, this whole club thing wasn't either, honestly, but you ended up being one of the last older members to join with most of the others having recently graduated and the responsibility of looking after the new freshmans gradually fell on you. Most of the time you kept to yourself, preferring the behind-the-scenes side of things to participating in the long-winded debates of high school teens obsessed with slashers and making Stab parodies, but you noticed the way Tara seemed desperate for any sense of normalcy beneath her laid-back facade and the whispers of murder that haunted her.

You took what seemed like a rabid kitten under your wing and ended up cornered by the personification of a Doberman because of it. Talk about doing good deeds and stepping out of your comfort zone. What a joke.

Tara’s older sister, Sam, if you got it right, stared at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes – just like Tara when you first approached her – towering over your figure that tried to look smaller than it actually was on the couch, as if she was trying to learn every little hidden detail about you.

“So…” you began hesitantly, wanting to break the awkward silence that had ensued, “you have such a beautiful house.”

“Aren’t you too old to hangout with a freshmen?" Sam cut in coldly, one eyebrow perfectly arched in distrust.

You sighed, this conversation sure started off very well, “I’m 23,” you cleared your throat, “Tara’s in the same club as me, and I’ve just been helping her with some classes I used to take when I first started here.”

You hear Tara’s distinct chuckle, clearly amused by your frustration, which doesn’t help your situation much. What a wonderful friend, indeed.

Sam hummed with fake indifference and the other two housemates watched the exchange intently, eyes darting between you like they were at a tennis match, amused by the sight of Sam trying to intimidate the poor unsuspecting twit that you were.

A great friend, for sure. Ugh, this is why you don’t sponsor obviously troubled kids.

It’s not like Sam Carpenter is really intimidating or scaring you out the way she seems to want to, she has bags under her eyes and a greasy pizza stain on her shirt and you’re a grown woman, for God’s sake! It’s just that it was extremely embarrassing to cause a scene like that, especially with someone who you really wanted to make a good first impression.

Interacting so much socially lately was becoming relatively exhausting and you expected it wouldn't become a thing, as you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. You hoped this would be the last big meeting you had for a while. Tara had told you a lot about her sister, mainly about how it was a pain in the ass to always have someone hovering over her, but it was something you never took seriously because of the way she sounded when she talked about it, too loving for someone who hated the situation so much. No, Sam was important and Tara had insisted that you meet her after doing the same with the twins just a few days ago. You had carefully planned how it would happen, what clothes you would wear and what you would say and now your chance to make things right was ruined, the words seeming to have escaped you in a flash. You were reserved, quiet, small in the midst of so much hustle and bustle, used to watching everything go by from the safety of the shadows. Being a mouse was easy.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Less easy when caged with a lion.

“Look,” you tried again, silently squirming as your pup start sniffing Sam’s combat boots furiously as you stood to pick him up, “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble or misunderstanding, Tara called me earlier while I was walking this little guy and insisted it would be okay if I came over for a movie. I can leave now if you want to, I’m really sorry for… well, all of this.”

You noticed Sam's expression became conflicted, as if she didn't know exactly what to make of you standing in the middle of her living room without showing any threat and wasn't used to people actually listening to her on sight. Still, she wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Great,” Sam nodded, her voice sounding less firm, “go then.” She pointed directly at your dog, now sitting at her feet with its fluffy head tilted to the side in a guiltily innocent manner, “And make sure to take that pizza thief with you.”

(You swear he looked personally offended.)

“What? No!” Tara seemed to realize that her little game could backfire and came out from behind the counter in your defense.

“Tara—”

“Come on, Sam, it's movie night!” She stomped her foot loudly, “I refused the invite to Jason's party for that, we were marathoning all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres!”

You don’t even have to be good at reading people to know that Sam had lost that fight the moment Tara looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that there was no way to blame her for simply doing what she asked.

That didn’t stop Sam from rolling her eyes and huffing in irritation.

“Fine,” she practically growled, shifting her attention back to you, “But I’m gonna keep an eye on you, so you better not act all smart and keep that fleabag away from me.”

“His name’s Koda.” You pointed out, before softening, “And thank you, I promise I’m not gonna—”

“Shush.”

Sam was sure this was all part of an act of yours, just the first step to infiltrate their lives and pull the rug out like others have done before, because no one in their right mind would sit quietly next to someone who nearly shocked and threatened them in many ways just a few minutes ago.

Especially if that someone is burning holes in your head with their eyes, like she's doing now.

Sam watches shamelessly and intrigued, shooting daggers at your figure as you lean back with Tara babbling enthusiastically between you, your puppy completely knocked out on her lap, oblivious to the sounds of death and fake blood spurting from the TV. She notices the way you effectively ignore her, responding to Tara’s remarks with genuine interest, even if your voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm.

You remained quiet beyond those moments and the tiredness along with your lack of sudden movements made Sam feel secure enough to leave the room and finally take a shower – because along with everything she never saw much fun in these movies like Tara –, warning you that it was better for everyone to finish the night when the movie ended.

(She also forced Quinn to take her place on the couch and promise to scream if anything happened. You didn't comment on that either.)

Sam only falls asleep when she hears the sounds of goodbyes coming from the living room and the door house being closed, finally relaxing after all the interaction, deciding that it was enough. You could have been at her house, but that doesn't mean she would let you come over again.

You come back, because of course Tara doesn’t give a damn about Sam’s warnings about being careful around strangers – incessantly claiming that you’re not a stranger – and there you are at the next game night that Chad insisted on making a tradition.

At least there’s no sign of the shirt-destroying furball this time and there are pizzas smelling good on the kitchen counter.

“‘Sup, Sam!” Chad greeted loudly as she walked through the door, waving excitedly from the couch, “We’re playin’ uno!”

Her eyes landed on you, who waved at her with a small, tight smile, awkwardly sandwiched between Anika and Ethan, the way you stood out among them so comical that Sam suppressed a snort. She decided to join in without much protest, someone responsible still had to watch you, after all.

Sam wouldn’t admit to anyone, absolutely anyone, that she was enjoying the evening, listening to the heated exchanges as everyone got competitive. Strangely, she noticed that you didn’t try to engage much in the conversation, just like the other night, seeming happy to just be there. She thought you had been withdrawn then because of her behavior towards you, but maybe you were just shy.

That made her raise an eyebrow, Tara didn’t usually embrace introverts. Actually, she had always been pretty popular even before Sam left, if she remembered correctly, so this was new. She felt a small piece of curiosity spark inside her instead of more mistrust as she expected and it disconcerted her.

“The whole point of the 7 card is that you're not supposed to talk, man!” Mindy throwing chips at Ethan interrupted Sam's flow of thoughts.

“This rule is stupid! The manual doesn't even mention it, read it for yourself!” Ethan shuffled the cards wildly – ​​everyone at the table had seen his hand – pointing, “And you’re talking too!”

“Whatever! Nobody reads the fuckin manual to play uno, Ethan!”

Tara groaned, “Guys, just shut up and everybody buys a card.”

“But that’s not how you play!”

She decided to abandon the game and all the fuss in favor of getting some air and a slice of pizza and was surprised to find that her favorite was still untouched, which was a miracle in such a crowded house.

“Tara said that you liked this flavor,” your voice coming from nearby startled her and Sam saw you gesture to the box in front of her, “My treat, for the other day.”

She cleared her throat hesitantly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” you dismissed with a wider smile, “My dog ​​left you without dinner.”

Sam didn’t respond, but you leaned against the counter next to her anyway, picking at the dark polish on your nails casually, listening to your friends arguing in the background.

“Get tired of the crowd?” Sam asked, deciding that ignoring you wasn’t an option since you clearly weren’t leaving.

“Yeah,” you agreed, shrugging with an odd laugh, “I guess I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

Sam wasn’t sure why she didn’t just send you away then, seizing the perfect chance to dismiss you like she’d wanted all along and avail everyone's presence to remind that you weren’t welcome, but that strange spark flared in her and made her smile unconsciously, more sincere than the previous tense ones.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she agreed slowly.

Your expression brightens in surprise, as if you expected a cold, blunt rejection or maybe a slap (probably both) and Sam feels a bit guilty by it. Sighing, she waves you towards the apartment’s tiny balcony, silently inviting you to join her, to which you respond with a firm nod as you watch her unwind the chain on the sliding door – they keep everything locked up tight now – and follow her.

Sam swears she’s not doing this to be nice or anything, all she wants is to repay you for your politeness, that’s all.

The night breeze is refreshing and sends pleasant shivers down your arms and shoulders as Sam leans against the railing and the two of you fall silent. It’s pleasant, actually.

Sam takes a moment to look at you, like, really look at you for the first time since you met and her breath hitches.

Your relaxed features look cheerful and are well-emphasized by the makeup you’re wearing – she tries to search her memory and gets frustrated when she can’t remember if it’s the same style as the night you met – your hair blows a little in the wind and your clothes just fit. Every single thing about you seems to have been specially made to be this way, charming, beautiful.

Your elbow brushes hers in the small space as you lean in to better contemplate the dreary, empty New York sky and Sam’s skin is burning and she doesn’t understand why.

Sam didn’t realize, through all the haze of anger and suspicion and tantrum, until she was touching a pretty girl, that you were, in fact, a pretty girl.

Shit.

“You’re trying so hard not to like her that I’m getting embarrassed for you.”

It’s late. Everyone has already left, including you, who went early claiming you had to work the next morning. Tara should be in bed by now, but she’d be upset if Sam told her to do that, so she doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam dismisses, packing up the last of the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“But you do,” Tara hums smugly, stifling a yawn, “Just admit that you were wrong and that I’ve made a friend who’s not a potential serial killer. And that you might have a crush on her. I saw you two on the balcony.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she grumbles, “And I wasn’t wrong for being worried that you brought home a stranger without telling me, even if she’s not dangerous.”

“Ha!” Tara points out, “So you admit she’s no danger.”

Sam sighs tiredly, bringing a hand up to massage her temple, “She can keep coming over for movie nights or whatever if that’s what you're asking me.”

Tara cheered, jumping up from where she was sitting on the counter to finally go to sleep. She stopped just before turning the corner to her room.

“Seriously though,” she caught Sam’s attention, “You guys have more in common then you might think, that’s why I like her. I think you could too, if you get to know her better.”

“That’s impossible, Tar,” Sam says weary, looking at her sister with the most done expression, “I don’t ‘get to know’ anyone, I already have all the people I need in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll be surprised,” she shrugged, “It would be good for you anyway.”

Sam's approval was all Tara needed to make you a regular fixture in their lives and make movie nights an official thing. Sam usually walks in when they're in full swing, with the two of you deep in conversation about the completely random movie you decided to watch that day, and now she greets you back instead of ignoring like she did before and you look happier every time she does it openly.

She finds excuses to wander around the living room and kitchen when she hears Tara pause the tv for whatever reason, just so she doesn't leave you unsupervised in their house – it was still too early to rule out all the care, after all. It ends up making her feel kind of ridiculous, because, hell, she shouldn't have to make excuses to wander around her own house! But you guys talk during these moments, sometimes.

Sam learns more about you as time goes on, and she tells herself that it's just gathering information, that you're not friends at all, but she finds herself soaking up every bit of detail. What are you majoring in, how long have you been in town, if you live close to campus like most students or if you have roommates like them.

(Actually, when she thinks about it now, Sam probably sounded more like a maniac trying to find out where you live, but at least you didn’t call her out on it.)

Then movie nights are joined by study sessions that Tara insists on having as her first week of finals approaches, and you manage to convince Sam to let you bring your puppy too so he won’t be alone for so many hours and she can act a little more normal around you and have a conversation that doesn’t sound like a job interview. You tell her about the movies you like – which consist of more than just an extensive list of slashers like she initially assumed – in a loud and excited tone instead of your usual repressed one, and it stirs something inside her, which leads to several other facts. Your favorite color, what kind of music you like, what you do when her sister isn't dragging you somewhere, and why you decided to adopt a dog so young when you already had so many other responsibilities.

“He helps me not feel alone,” you replied, looking deep into her eyes, “my roommate graduated last year and moved out. I guess I couldn’t stand coming home to empty houses, you know? And he’s my guard dog, he takes care of me and I take care of him. The little guy might be small but knows how to do damage.”

She could relate to that, in part.

And then you start asking too, suddenly and Sam finds herself with a dilemma after so long avoiding your attempts to get to know her. She’d rather remain closed off.

But a trade isn’t a fair trade unless she gives you something back, is it? And you’ve been quenching her thirst for knowledge for a long time now, you gave her a lot.

So, during one night when you insist on helping her make dinner, she confides in you – somewhat reluctantly – that she really enjoys cooking, especially healthier meals. She doesn't look at you, nor does she say it clearly but still, you listen and Sam is surprised when she finds herself speaking.

“You really should ask her out.”

And of course, Tara is always close enough to raise an eyebrow with a knowing look at her on practically every occasion.

“I've told you already, it's not like that.”

“You're cuddling her dog right now.”

“Just so he stays quiet and doesn't disturb you two! Shouldn't you be studying, by the way?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sam can almost, almost admit that you're her friend too.

(Though she kinda wished it were a little more than that.)

Movie nights evolve into sleepovers, because Sam argues that it’s simply too late and dangerous for you to come back alone and she feels embarrassed – and guilty as much – when Quinn brings up that it has always been dangerous and she didn’t mind letting you go before, when she didn’t care about you.

Now there are some of your clothes in a drawer Tara set aside for you just like a colorful food bowl in the living room for your dog – Mindy jokes that it's theirs now – and there’s rarely a day that goes by where she doesn’t see you.

And when you don’t come over, Tara makes sure to remind her of how anxious she looks waiting for a knock on the door and how she lights up when you greet her first when you finally arrive.

“I swear that now she comes here more to see you than me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs, “And when are you gonna make a move again?”

“Never, Tara.”

Sam hasn't heard a thing about you in days. Tara said yesterday that you ended up getting really busy with a college project, preparing a presentation that, her sister quotes, 'needs to be perfect because public speaking is horrible and there's a big chance I'll embarrass myself.'

It's not that Sam asked, it's just that she doesn't text you often and Tara thought it would be convenient to talk about it out loud when she was on the phone with Mindy.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter, it's not like you two are close. You are Tara's friend. If it weren't for her, you two wouldn't even have a reason to see each other. There's no reason to be so stressed.

But she misses you anyway. She's having a shitty day at her shitty job and everything seems to go by even slower because Sam knows that when she gets home at night you probably won't be on the couch waiting with the soft smile she's grown accustomed to looking forward and if she has to deal with another group of rude teenagers she'll freak out.

The sound of the bell ringing at the entrance draws Sam’s attention back to the counter and she ends up face to face with the person who has been on her mind all day.

“Sam!” you approached with a tired smile, your dog wagging his tail happily on a leash in one hand and a paper bag in the other, “I was looking for you.”

You'd never visited her at work before, she didn't even know you knew where it was, having only mentioned it in passing, but there you were, with the smile she wanted to see and bags under your eyes.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up. Damn, she looked like a teen girl with a crush, “I didn't expect to see you here, what, uhm, what do you need?”

You snorted at her flustered attending voice. Seeing her show any kind of nervousness was very unusual.

“Tara called me today demanding I get out of the house for a bit and ‘touch some grass’, so I decided to bring this buddy along, he was begging me for a proper walk,” you shrugged, “And she asked me to bring your lunch.”

Sam paused at that, Tara definitely didn't make lunches for her, much less go to the trouble of delivering them like that.

“...Thank you,” she accepted the paper bag you held out delicately, eyeing the package suspiciously. You held back a giggle when she looked at you again, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, “I’m taking Koda to the park nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to come with us. If you can, of course.”

Sam couldn’t really, it was still a few hours before her shift ended at the coffee shop, but she didn’t want you to leave without the promise of seeing you again.

“Of course,” she found herself replying instead, “I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when you gifted her with one of your warm smiles.

“Okay! Nice,” you nod, absently twirling your dog’s leash around your fingers, startled by the sudden, loud bark he lets out at the delay, breaking the oblivious bubble you were in, “Alright, I should go before he starts trying to jump over the counter.”

Sam barely hears the sound of the bell announcing your departure over how loudly her heart pounds in her ears.

It takes a lot of willpower and her last pack of good cigarettes to convince her insufferable coworker — who’d watched the whole thing with a bored expression and loudly chewing gum while cleaning the coffee machine — to cover the rest of her shift. He ended up ordering her lunch too, thinking it might be something special, only to complain when he was met with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of warm apple juice. Tara really didn’t cook… but then why had she done that?

(She laughed at him anyway.)

“You owe me, Carpenter,” he grumbled, taping a note to her arm that had fallen out of the package.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Sam was out the door before he could change his mind.

Taking a deep breath of the damp autumn air, she picked up the yellow post-it note curiously, recognizing her sister’s handwriting immediately.

‘u looked so depressed lately that I

decided to send u a gift

DO something this time

good luck!!’

She knew. She fucking knew that smartass had set her up. Sam should have guessed it before. Tara would never let her get away with this without doing something with her own hands. At least she hadn’t brought Mindy into the scheme this time.

The park you had mentioned was more like a small square and with the rainy cold weather of the last few days, it was pretty empty. Sam could spot you without difficulty, sitting on one of the few benches watching the scenery and she made her presence known when she got close enough.

“Can he even sit still sometimes?” Sam asked, hands in her bomber jacket pockets, pointing with her chin at the dog playing alone on the grass. You moved a little so she could sit next to you and subtly moved closer when she did.

“It rained last night and he's a big fan of puddles,” you chuckled, “I guess he's just excited, we haven't been out much lately.”

He wasn't the puppy he'd been when Sam had first seen him a few months ago and the sight of him running around the trees chasing flowers and stray twigs was actually quite funny.

“He's so covered in mud that it looks like a bear.”

“Well, his name's Koda,” you pointed out amusedly, “I would have called him Pongo but he always looked more like a small bear than a dalmatian anyway.”

She snorted, “If you say so.”

Sam couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed, with the weight of your shoulder resting against hers, enjoying the weather of the early season, the ground covered in orange and yellow leaves framing your surroundings.

She couldn't stop the restlessness she felt inside her chest, watching your profile. Feeling warm inside, but also shivering with a terrible fear of ruining everything. Do something, do something, do something echoing like a mantra in her head.

Sam took a deep breath. She'd faced murderers before, for God's sake! She could be braver than that.

"So..." She coughed, "Tara set this up, you know? The lunch stuff and everything."

You turned your attention to Sam, raising an eyebrow with a confused look.

"She did?" You asked, "Why would she do that?"

It's now or never, Carpenter. Focus.

“She did it so I could see you,” she looked away, “Because I missed you. Because I…” She felt your hand reach for hers and noticed a fallen leaf on your shoulder.

“Because you…?” your voice echoed anxious. She could do this. She's going to do this.

“I—”

A loud howl scared the two of you and you turned to see Koda behind a pile of leaves, pupils dilated and jumping up and down.

“Oh no.”

“What?” She stammered.

“He saw a pigeon.”

You see, Sam is not a pet person. She has only had one guinea pig her entire life and only before her father left and a 6-year-old Tara let it escape from its cage never to be seen again – poor Darwin would always be remembered – she does not know how to handle dogs, much less big, excitable ones like yours.

Yet she grabs the leash from your hands when you finally reach your dog who won't stop barking at a tree and ignores your warnings that he is heavy and strong, Sam, it will end up dragging you away and tries to gently pull him to convince him to let go so you can get out of there. Because she is big and strong and she wants to show you that she can handle a mere happy dog.

He acknowledges her like she wanted and also drags her like you said he would.

This manages to surprise her more than the first stab wound she took, how one minute she’s standing still, telling your silly dog ​​to walk in a confident condescending tone, and the next she’s running at full speed through the trees and puddles of the park, your worried voice ringing behind her, as does your laughter.

“Sam!” you exclaimed from a distance, hands cupped around your mouth and dark red scarf falling from your neck, “You need to stop!”

She does stop, yes, but only after your dog has already circled her and Sam must be a ridiculous sight with a colorful leash wrapped around her legs and a dog panting with its tongue out next to her.

“Oh my god,” you lean in closer, unable to hide the amusement in your voice, “Are you okay?”

Sam huffed, feeling a strand of hair fall across her face: “A little help would be appreciated.”

“Sure,” you laughed, reaching out to carefully untangle it, “Maybe I should call him Pongo after all.”

She rolled her eyes: “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, it’s just cute.”

Sam opened her mouth to retort, only to realize how close you two were, with your hands resting on her shoulders to steady her and your faces just inches apart, your breath tickling her skin. You seemed to realize the same thing, tongue coming out to wet your lips, your gaze fixed on her mouth.

Do something. Do something. Do something.

She finally does something. She kisses you.

It's all a mix of sensations, she feels when you sigh, breathing through your nose in surprise and satisfaction, she feels where your hands tighten on the fabric of her jacket and tastes you, warm lips contrasting with the cold skin of your cheeks, with traces of coffee, lipstick and something else so undeniably you that Sam swears her heart might stop.

You pull apart hesitantly, breathing fast, noses touching, eyes shining, and she feels herself falling, literally. Your dog jumps on your waist, demanding to be petted, and you fall, taking Sam with you.

Landing in a pile of leaves is more uncomfortable than the movies make it out to be, but Sam can’t find it in herself to protest when you’re the one on top of her. She smiles and you laugh out loud. She didn’t mess up.

“You’re covered in leaves,” you say, running your fingers through her hair, “And your face is smeared with black lipstick.”

She scoffs, “I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“He is,” you point innocently at the dog standing next to you.

Sam rolls her eyes, but cups your face with her cold hands to pull you close again, and the second kiss she gives you is just as magical as the first.

Tara doesn’t expect to find a dog taking up the entire couch for the first time in days when she comes back from Chad’s dorm after sending you off on a fake mission to find her sister. Yet, hours later, there it is, with one of the sneakers she forgot to put away when she got home from class stuck in his mouth and trails of mud and leaves across the room.

“C’mon, man, that’s not a toy!”

She hears a laugh and finds herself face to face with Sam, looking completely filthy despite the sound of the shower running in the hallway and Tara knows Quinn isn’t home yet. Oh.

“So, you finally did something?”

Sam nods solemnly, pointing to the dark kiss etched into her jaw.

“I did.”

[midnghtprentiss]

Can I request for Jack Abbot x fem reader? Their child wanted pet(s) and Jack just wouldn't let him since he wasn't convinced that they would take care of it and he's busy with work and so does her. Their kid persuaded her and she tried to tempted Jack to give in. Doing everything just to let him say yes. Jack knew his answer but just wanted to mess you with them🫣. Kisses, fluff, suggestive. Thanks!! :))

a/n: this is my first request omg omg omg, i absolutely loved your request! i changed a few times but hope it matches what you wanted. have fun dear. sorry if there's some mistakes, english is not my first language. enjoyyyy :)

mission called convincing daddy to get us what we want - jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader warnings: jack as girls dad, suggestive content

Parenthood was amazing. You loved it more than you expected. You loved being a mom as much as Jack loved being a dad and he was really proud to be a girl's dad. Your twin girls were the reason for him to absolutely love the new version of him. 

Evangeline and Cecilia were his sunshine, his everything. He would die and kill if meant to make them smile. Even before they came to the world he was excited about the idea of having two versions of himself with the person he loves. He spent nights imagining how life would be so much cooler and brighter, he even confessed to you that he always wanted to be a girl dad but never had the chance to make it right before you. 

The whole pregnancy wasn’t easy, you had a lot of pain, restrictions and anxiety at the same time. Growing two girls at once was a hell of a full time job and apparently will be for a long time. You were eating more, sleeping more, feeling bigger than ever, you can’t even count how many clothes didn’t fit anymore. You started by doing less shifts and when you did, Jack made sure you didn’t work harder, which led you to a few fights. 

“Jack, pregnancy is not a disease. I am more than capable of doing my job and still have two children inside of me.” 

“I’m not letting you do everything you want so you can prove something to other people.” You laughed in his face.

“I am a doctor first and then a mother. So please, let me enjoy this moment before I’ll spend my days being known only as a mother.” 

Everything changed when you got to hold your girls for the first time and actually be a better mom than the one you have. It was a full time job, the hardest job you’ve ever had, 24/7 of being alert and on the edge of your seat for the smallest things. You didn’t showered for almost a week after you got to bring them home, you cried when they cried and the worst part of it all was the excruciating feeling that you were already failing. 

Jack was your number one supporter, your safe haven and he was happy to be there. He dealt with the sleepless nights like a champ, always holding the girls, giving them what they needed just for you to sleep for a while, he didn't even complain about being sleep deprived, he just accepted it. But he never told you how terrified he was of sucking at the only job he couldn’t fail. How he was afraid of sleeping and missing something important, or how anxious he was when they were out of his plain sight. He didn’t tell you he almost gave up being a doctor to stay with the girls. 

As they grew up, you both understood how to be better parents and that brought you closer than ever, creating boundaries and rules to make this right. You agreed on coming back to work at your own pace, making cohesive schedules and trying your best not to go home during shifts. You worked the day shift so he stayed with them and he stayed with the girls all day and he worked at night shift for you to be home during bedtime. 

Real teamwork.

Cecilia was like a mini version of Jack. She was bossy, talkative and had the same bad attitude as him, which sometimes made your life so difficult, but she was glued to you. Everywhere you went, she was there like a shadow. Evangeline was a whole version of you, she was sweet, calm and did her best to be nice to everyone and yet Jack was the only one who could calm her down when she wasn’t having a good day. 

There were nights Ange cried non stop because she wanted daddy and as a consequence Cece cried because her sister was crying. You have to call him at two in the morning, knowing he was busy with a trauma, trying your best to not cry on the phone, asking him to talk to her. Or when Cece was giving him an attitude because he wanted her mama so bad that everyone else was an enemy, he had to call you just for her to feel better. 

You decided to change your tactics again and put the girls to socialize in preschool. At first you hated the idea as much as Jack but eventually you decided to give it a try. They absolutely loved it. The first week was filled with tears and anxiety (from you, especially), the desire of bringing them home and putting the whole experiment behind. By the second week the girls begin to cry less and be more excited about going. It was a relief for your mind and both of you could focus more at work. 

At six years old you could see these girls were smarter than you imagined. They talked about what they learned at kindergarten and included details about everything they knew and saw. There was no better feeling than watching your favorite human beings embracing their personality. 

One day after school during a pick up, you noticed them speaking quietly and giggling with each other pointing at some drawings in their notebooks. 

“What’s happening here? Am I missing something?” Ange and Cece looked at each other and giggled louder. 

“Mama, we want a dog.” Cece screamed and lifted up her piece of paper. 

“Oh really? Why do you want a dog?” You asked curious. 

“Today Mrs. Sunny told us about responsibilities and she told us having a pet helped us with that.” Ange was so excited and her sister was agreeing on everything. “We are big girls now.” Big girls that made her father look under the bed every night for monsters.

“Girls, having a pet is a big thing. Me and daddy are really busy taking care of more things to have animals.” You tried to sound soft, knowing how emotional they can get. “Plus, I don’t if you’re ready for this kind of responsibility.” 

“We can help!” Cece jumped in, “We can give them food, water, snuggles and we can take them to our walks with daddy.” 

That would be fun, you think to yourself, Jack was going to have a stroke when you tell him that. Or better, you’ll let them speak to him. 

The idea of a pet was something you and him already talked about. During your pregnancy you had long conversations with your husbands on the subject, you grew up with animals and in fact helped you with the responsibility of taking care of the people you loved. He wasn’t against it, but you’re both busy and now with two kids taking a lot of attention and time, an animal would make it worse and more chaotic. 

“I agree with you, girls.” Of course you agreed with them, the smiles they gave you is more than enough. “We need to convince dad to let us have a pet, what do you think?” They squealed and laughed, starting to make some plans and creating some crazy scenarios where the pet was included. “I suggest you two work on something really good for him and we talk about this before dinner, alright?”

When you got home, Jack was already waiting outside. Crossed arms, polo shirt, faded jeans. What a view. The moment he opened the car door for them, they were already on him, talking about their day and showering him with hints about the conversation that would happen later. 

He just looked at you confused and nodding with whatever sentence was coming out of their mouths. You walked behind them, contemplating the sweet view of your family. 

While Cece and Angel were doing their homework, you were studying a few things for your lecture and Jack was making dinner. You approached him quietly and held his face to make him look directly at you. 

“We have a problem, a big one.” His heart almost stopped at your words. “They want a dog.” 

“Really?” He chuckled, going back to slicing the onions. 

“Something about Mrs. Sunny teaching about responsibility.” You poured yourself some wine and leaned against the counter. “They are on a mission called convincing daddy to get us what we want. It’s gonna be tough on you, buddy.” 

“What exactly did you say to them?” He put the knife down and stared at you. 

“I said the truth. We’re busy and getting a pet would add more chaos into our lives but I said yes.” You said quietly and he raised his eyebrows. “I can’t resist them, you know that!”

Dinner was chaotic. Cecilia and Evangeline were on fire telling all the good reasons for having cats and dogs. They even called themselves ‘doctor daughters’ and their specialty is love and snuggles. You held your smile the whole time, while Jack was so hypnotized by them he didn’t even blink. 

“Girl, I understand you really really really want that but we need to discuss it better.”  Their eyes were full of water and while he talked about their busy life, their school time and the extracurricular they do, a dog was harder. 

“But we are good girls, daddy.” You almost got up and went to the nearest shelter to get the damn dog. 

“I know, bug.”

After bedtime you were laying next to Jack, tracing lines in his chest and you couldn’t stop thinking about their wish of having an animal. Jack knew this conversation was about to happen for the way you tucked them in bed and he heard you saying you would try to convince him using your ‘supermom powers’. Before the conversation started he was already laughing. 

You smacked his chest and rolled your eyes, trying to focus on whatever you were about to say to him. 

“You know why we can’t have a dog.” You looked at him. 

“Why not? Are you afraid he will steal your prosthetic leg?” He burst out laughing holding your arm.

“You would like that, didn’t you?” He teased and your eyes studied his face. 

“Jack, we are raising two girls. A dog can make our job easier.” You think about your next words. “It can teach them responsibility.” 

“A dog can be dangerous.” He found it amusing how you rolled your eyes every time you disagreed. 

“Men are dangerous, a dog is the sweetest thing they can have. Besides, we can use that to make them stop asking for another sibling.” You reminded him, getting more comfortable against his body. 

“You have a very good point, love.”

“Of course I have.”

“A sibling?” You giggled, hiding your face between his chest. “They can have a dog and a sibling, then.” 

“Easy there, tiger. It’s debatable since I’m the one who carries the children here.” 

“Everybody wins something here, just saying.”

“You’re a trouble, Jack Abbot.”

“You married me.” He held your face, caressing your cheeks gently. 

It took Jack three days to get a dog. He talked to an old army friend of his that had the contact of a guy that had retired dogs and just like that, you got a dog - Luke. He’s the nicest, trained and responded very well to the girls clinging on to him. 

You’ve never seen them so excited and happy to have a furry friend and the best part is watching Jack pretending he’s not blusinh watching his girls run around the backyard. You were sitting next to him, listening to Angel and Cece squeal every time Luke licked their faces and screamed when he runs from them. 

“About the sibling situation.” He smirked and watched your face with the same look that got you pregnant before. 

“Not before bedtime, Abbot.” You pushed his shoulder. 

“Can’t wait for our talk later.” 

Maybe life is worth it for the moments like that where everybody is truly happy.

[wheneverfeasible]

Wiggly Wednesday?

The brain worms are here again.

I honestly hate Christmas and avoid doing too much for it. However, an idea came to me suddenly and I can’t stop thinking about…

Secret Santa Steddie AU.

In one of Steve’s high school classes senior year, they’re assigned a Secret Santa project. They all put their names in a Santa hat and have to draw one out (returning it for another if it’s their own) and that’s the person they have to secretly give a gift to, either homemade or purchased, but there’s a cap of like…whatever the equivalent of $20 today is back then. Idk.

This is supposed to be a team building type of exercise, something to foster camaraderie, after say maybe a huge argument/fight broke out between Tommy and his group and the Freak, Eddie Munson, as well as some other nerds. Steve is exhausted and doesn’t care for Tommy’s bullshittery anymore, so he didn’t really get involved, though Eddie did throw a few digs his way. Which was hurtful but probably deserved.

Anyways, Steve draws out Eddie’s name.

For the next week or so the last fifteen minutes of class are devoted to questionnaires and such where the students answer questions about themselves directly or they fill in answers to widely asked questions, all used to let the Secret Santas learn about their recipients. Some people take it more seriously than others.

Steve gets to know more about Eddie, who is more blasé about it all, obviously not expecting anyone to give him something good (if they give him anything at all) since he has no friends in the class and most people don’t like him. So Steve, who has never paid Eddie any amount of attention before in the past but has been now and finds himself intrigued, starts observing Eddie outside of class.

Steve knows he could buy Eddie something music related. An easy cop-out gift. But the more he observes Eddie, the more he gets to see the tiny cracks in the Freak persona whenever he spies on him, sees the nerdy but also kind person beneath the leather jacket. And…okay…maybe he starts to develop a sort of crush without realizing that’s what happens.

Maybe he bribes other nerds about Hellfire Club and Eddie and makes certain they don’t squeal about him asking (he doesn’t realize he comes off as threatening, he just thinks he’s being urging), maybe he hears Eddie mention things and then he goes and asks Dustin what they mean, learning it’s from a book series about midgets and some jewelry or whatever, and so an idea forms.

While shuttling the kids about after school, Steve asks Will if he’d be willing to draw something for him, which Steve would pay him for. Will, obviously excited because it’s his first commission job and Steve pays him fairly, agrees.

(Steve may also purchase a patch at the record store they stop at—Will’s request as he wants to buy something for Jonathan—because it reminds him of Eddie, but that doesn’t matter.)

Yadda yadda ya, it’s time to exchange gifts. The teacher has allowed them to drop them off leading up to the Friday before winter vacation to keep the mystery alive.

When Eddie gets his, he’s expecting something more like a prank gift. Instead, he’s gifted a colored drawing (sadly not enough time for a painting) of Eddie dressed as someone named something like Spider or Arrow Gone or whatever, Steve doesn’t really know, but it’s him fighting off a horde of monster things with a flaming eyeball in the background and further back is an erupting volcano.

Steve doesn’t know what the hell is going on, not really able to absorb the massive info dump Dustin gave him, but Will assured Steve that the dude was cool and the battle depicted was awesome and important when he dropped off his old yearbook for model reference. Will’s opinion was enough for Steve of course. He just hoped Eddie liked it, and the patch that he rolled up with the picture.

Eddie is, of course, gobsmacked and trying his hardest not to show it. He scans the classroom to try to figure out who could have given him such an amazing gift, but no one even looks at him. There’s no way he would ever suspect the truth.

Steve ended up getting a can of Farrah Fawcett spray, which everyone laughed at and assumed was a joke gift for a jock, but Steve noticed a small twitch of a smile on Tommy’s face, the only one besides Dustin now who knows his secret.

Later, Eddie’s battle vest is adorned with the patch he received in his gift, a red and black Leviathan cross, but Steve doesn’t know what happened to the drawing. He hopes it didn’t get trashed.

It’s not until later, after everything with Vecna and recovering what was salvageable from the trailer, that he found the picture safely secured behind a glass frame hidden in Eddie’s room. It’s only then that Steve realizes that he might have been a little bit in love with Eddie “the Freak” Munson all this time.

~

Aaaaaaaah sorry this is a little bit of a nebulous ending here. Does this story follow canon and Eddie is dead, never knowing who his Secret Santa is? Or is Eddie recovering from his injuries, fated to recognize Will’s art style and thus learning the truth behind one of his most prized possessions? Who’s to say 🤷

I’m just gonna tag my perma list because I’m lazy. Anyone can be happy to consider this a tag for their own future brain worms tho!

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

[icarusignite]

You’re on Your Own, Kid (p.1)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Civilian!Reader

Summary: Amongst the glittering heights of Gotham's elite, you fight to build something of your own, only to watch it crumble under the weight of your father’s sins. And just when you need him most, Bruce Wayne vanishes, leaving you to weather scandal, betrayal, and ruin alone. Love turns to silence. Devotion becomes distance. Now, as the city tears you apart, he watches from the shadows, haunted by the truth, and by the pieces of you he left behind.

Tropes: childhood friends to lovers. Pre-established relationship. Possessive Bruce. Fluff and domesticity. Some angst and betrayal later on, and Bruce being emotionally constipated, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff. promise he'll grovel in part 2

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: LOL the conglomerate shenanigans mentioned here are just to set the stage, so it may not be entirely accurate. We're just going for vibes once again. Also, I'm sorry I keep splitting these into parts, I just have a hard time keeping focus when it gets too long and then I'm not able to proofread it lol. Also, I had Dan Mora's Bruce in mind when I wrote this cuz he is scrumptious, but honestly feel free to imagine your fav, they're all hot af <3 As usual comments/reblogs/likes are all super appreciated, I love hearing yalls thoughts!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

The room you were in was too cold and grey, full of men who thought salt-and-pepper hair and a Rolex gave them license to speak louder and listen less. You sat at the long conference table, posture straight, pen tapping an idle rhythm against the polished mahogany. Across from you, some relic of the financial world droned on about stock volatility and historical precedence, his words wrapped in condescension and misplaced self-importance.

You should've given him the respect his tenure demanded, but the way his eyes passed over you, like you were ornamental rather than integral, sent a rush of disdain crawling up your spine. Respect, as far as you were concerned, was earned, not assumed. And certainly not owed to anyone who looked at you like you were a misdelivered invitation.

Still, you'd been born into a world of masks and teeth, and you wore yours like fine silk. Your smile was patient, and you nodded politely through his tirade, letting him tire himself out like a dog barking at a closed door. Then, with poise as sharp as a stiletto heel, you stood.

"I appreciate your concerns," you said smoothly, the corners of your mouth curving into a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "But allow me to show you why they're unfounded."

You clicked your presentation open, and the sleek slides glowed behind you, casting your silhouette in authority. Your voice, when it rang out, was crisp and commanding. You outlined every metric, forecasted every outcome, and highlighted each strategic benefit of the partnership with the precision of a scalpel. Your delivery was not just persuasive, it was irrefutable.

"And with Wayne Enterprises' logistical strength paired with our R&D innovation, projected returns stand to exceed expectations by the second quarter. This isn't just a good move. It's a brilliant one."

A thoughtful silence followed. You saw it in the way heads tilted slightly, the furrow of brows that wasn't skepticism but grudging admiration. Most of the room wore expressions of reluctant respect, like they hadn't expected much and had gotten more than they bargained for.

Except him. The same fossil from earlier, with his cheap cologne and cheaper smirk, leaned forward and said, "That all sounds lovely, but are we to believe this isn't just a shiny little passion project? You paint a pretty picture, but partnerships with startups like yours are risky, even with your—" he paused, eyes sweeping you up and down in a gesture that wasn't even subtle, "—charisma."

Your responding smile was dangerous. From the corner of your eye, you saw your boyfriend's hand tighten just slightly where it rested near his coffee. There was a tick in his jaw, a silent flare of temper you knew too well. He sat at the head of the table, a quiet monolith in tailored charcoal, the very definition of controlled power. CEO of Wayne Enterprises, majority shareholder, your childhood best friend, and right now, a storm barely held at bay.

You cut him off with a single sharp glance. A silent don't you dare.

If you were going to navigate this brutal industry, you wouldn't do it in the shadow of Bruce Wayne, not even as the person who owned his heart.

You looked back at the man with the condescending tone and the fragile ego. "Well, if by 'passion project' you mean a venture backed by years of market research, two patents pending, and one multimillion-dollar seed round completed in half the time it takes most of your portfolio companies to launch a website—then yes. I suppose you could call it that."

A few sniggers rang around the room, but you kept going.

"As for risk, I would suggest you revisit our financials—slide seventeen if you missed it. The risk assessment is well within tolerance, and frankly, far lower than that synthetic textiles deal you pushed through last spring. Remember that? Didn't pan out so well."

You didn't blink as you said it, and the man's face darkened, but he didn't speak again. When you sat down, the room was quiet, save for the quiet shuffle of notes and murmurs of agreement. You felt it: the shift. You were the storm they hadn't seen coming.

And across the table, Bruce's eyes never left you. His expression was unreadable to the rest of them, but you saw the subtle lift of one brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. Pride, and something warmer.

The remainder of the meeting slipped by quickly, numbers tossed across the table like poker chips, and for once, most of them landed in your favour. A majority vote. A round of congratulations followed—handshakes, nods, and smiles with just enough sincerity to count. You took them all in stride, offering your own gratitude before ducking out hurriedly. 

You didn't see the way Bruce's gaze followed you, how his tall frame lingered near the doorway a moment too long, as if willing you to turn back. As if he expected you to wait for him, to fall in step beside him the way you usually did.

But you didn't. You had people to meet. Calls to make. Updates to deliver. Your world moved fast, and you moved faster.

The rest of your day passed in a blur of boardrooms and breakout meetings, each conversation a continuation of the victory you'd carved out that morning. You wore your exhaustion like armour, hidden beneath crisp tailoring and a resolute gleam in your eye that warned anyone from suggesting you take a break.

By the time the last of your employees had filed out and the office corridors grew quiet with the hush of after-hours, you were at the end of your tether. You decided to take a short break, strolling the hallways of your headquarters and rolling your neck with a sigh, fingers kneading at the stiff knot beneath your collarbone.

Just then, a hand caught your wrist, pulling you gently into the shadow of an alcove. You inhaled sharply out of reflex, your spine going taut, until your gaze met a pair of broad shoulders you knew better than your own reflection.

The tension bled out from your body. "Bruce."

The man in front of you didn't let go. "Shouldn't you have gone home by now? What're you still doing here?"

"This is my workplace. I've still got work," you pointed out. "It's you who should've gone home by now. You're the guest here, after all."

"You can let your team handle the rest of it."

"You know I can't do that."

Bruce exhaled slowly, the sound edged with exasperation. His hands slid from your wrist to your shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tight muscles there with surprising care. You almost groaned at the relief, but bit it back, refusing to show him that you were this close to melting under his touch.

"You've been staying up late for weeks trying to finalize this deal," he said softly, brows furrowing. "And now that you have, you should rest. It's not healthy for you to go on like this. Let me take you out to lunch."

"Not healthy? Says the man with an even worse sleep schedule than me?" You glanced at the elegant watch on your wrist and lamented. "And at this time, we should be grabbing dinner."

Bruce shrugged with that maddening nonchalance of his, as if time were merely a suggestion. "Sure. Dinner it is, then."

"Bruce...don't tell me you skipped lunch too."

He had the nerve to look unbothered. "Not my fault someone was too busy to accompany me."

You blinked, guilt nibbling at the edge of your resolve, but before you could offer any apologies, he spoke again. 

"You know, I almost threw my coffee at him."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The man from earlier." The words left his mouth bitterly. "The way he looked at you. Talked to you. Like he thought he was clever, like he thought he could get under your skin."

"Oh? That's what got under your skin?"

Your boyfriend didn't flinch. Just looked at you with that heavy, unreadable intensity that made your heart beat a little too loud in your chest. "I don't like when other men look at you like that. Like they're entitled to even think about you."

"Bruce!" Your voice was half reprimand, half breathless laugh. "Are you seriously jealous of a man who couldn't even figure out how his PowerPoint slides worked?"

"I'm serious."

You sighed, reaching up to smooth your fingers along the lapels of his blazer. "So am I. And besides, I handled him just fine."

His expression didn't shift for a moment, but eventually, the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

"Yes," he admitted almost reverently. "You did." 

His gaze dropped to your lips for just a second before flicking back up. "You always do."

You grinned, triumphant. "Damn right, I do."

"But that doesn't mean I liked it. I know you can fight your own battles. That doesn't mean I want to watch someone else try to belittle you and get away with it."

You slipped your hands up, resting them on either side of his neck. "You don't have to protect me."

"I know. That's why I didn't step in."

"Good." You tapped his chest twice, firmly. "Because if you did, I'd have made you wait in the hallway like a schoolboy. You are in my territory after all."

That earned you a proper smirk. "Someone's bold today."

"You're impossible."

"And you're brilliant," he returned, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. "Which is why you deserve a dinner where no one interrupts you or calls your projections ambitious like it's an insult."

"Only if you promise to pick a place with no paparazzi. I am not dressed to be captured at unflattering angles."

Bruce pulled back in disbelief. "You're joking."

You stepped away and gestured to yourself with a dramatic flourish, as if unveiling a masterpiece gone awry. "Am I? Look at me. This blazer?" You plucked at the crumpled lapel. "Was an emergency grab after I spilled coffee on my blouse and had to scrub it out in the office bathroom like some tragic rom-com character." You pointed to the faintly darker patch near your waist. "Still damp."

His eyes followed your motions with the tenderness of a man who saw none of the chaos you were describing.

"And my hair looks like I lost a battle with a fan and a filing cabinet." 

Bruce didn't even blink. "You look stunning."

"You're just saying that."

"No. I'm not. You look stunning. Like you always do."

You faltered, ever so slightly, and despite the frustration, the day-old coffee stains, and the ache in your spine from too many hours hunched over a screen, you believed him.

You glanced down at yourself again, then back at him. "You, on the other hand, are a walking PR campaign. How is it that after several hours and three crises, you still look like you just stepped out of a magazine cover shoot?"

He winked. "Genetics. And less coffee spillage, apparently."

You groaned, swatting at his chest again. "Unfair."

Bruce caught your hand mid-air and laced his fingers through yours. "Dinner," he insisted, gently tugging you forward again. "No cameras to capture your alluring charm. I'd rather keep that all to myself tonight."

You hesitated, the fight draining from your shoulders. "Alright. But if I see even one camera flash—"

"I'll tackle them myself," he promised, lips brushing the back of your hand with just enough gravity to make your breath hitch.

"How noble of you. Gotham's very own superhero."

"And you're still the most beautiful person in the room."

"Stop flirting with me. I might start thinking you like me."

He looked at you so intensely that your knees almost buckled. "I do."

And just like that, you melted.

It was ridiculous how quickly his words could undo you. There was no grand gesture, no dramatic speech, no orchestra swelling behind him, and yet the way he said it, low and certain and entirely unbothered by how much it affected you, made your heart stumble in its rhythm.

You suddenly understood why he'd been granted that moniker: Gotham's most eligible bachelor. The billionaire playboy. The man whose name was always paired with another woman's on gossip sites, his photo splashed across magazine covers, eyes smouldering, collar artfully undone.

Bruce Wayne knew how to be charming.

He wielded charisma the way other men wielded money or power. Elegantly. Effortlessly. And oh, hadn't you once mocked him for it? You'd teased him mercilessly, rolling your eyes at every tabloid article and every polished date-night photo he'd been caught in before the two of you became something real.

You'd called them all fools—the ones who let themselves be swayed by a well-timed smirk. Now you knew yourself to be the biggest fool of all. Despite how fiercely you'd resisted, despite how determined you'd been to never lose yourself to his charm, you had failed. You'd been dating for nearly a year now. Long enough that you should be used to him, to the casual intimacy, and the way he always found you at the end of the day like a tether pulling him home.

But you weren't used to it. Not even close. Somehow, it never stopped feeling surreal, that you were the person he looked at like this. Like you hung the stars.

"You're dangerous," you remarked, swallowing thickly. 

Bruce grinned. "Only to the people who would hurt you."

"No. To me."

His expression shifted, but you turned away before he could say anything more and you let yourself fall deeper. You tugged him down the hallway by the hand still clasped in yours.

"Come on, then." You cast a look over your shoulder. "You promised me dinner."

He followed obediently as if there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be. "Of course. Just you and me, and hopefully someplace with real silverware."

"And dessert?"

"Only if you behave."

Your grin was wicked. "So... no dessert then."

"Now whose the one being impossible?" Bruce chuckled, that rare, warm sound that started deep in his chest and made your insides glow. 

"For the record," you added, "if anyone should be jealous, it's me."

"Oh?"

"Nearly half my staff looked ready to faint the moment you loosened your tie during your introduction."

"Guess I'll have to keep my tie on, then."

"Hmm, we'll revisit that decision later."

Behind you, Bruce Wayne smiled like a man who knew exactly how lucky he was.

Bruce insisted on driving, and you didn't protest. It was late, your feet ached from running around in pinching shoes all day, and the thought of slipping into the cocoon of his ridiculously luxurious car made the decision an easy one. Besides, he offered with that maddeningly smooth baritone of his, "You can pick up your car from here tomorrow morning. I'll drive you myself if you have to."

"I already have a chauffeur, Bruce," you teased. "I don't need another one."

You sank into the plush leather of the passenger seat with a sigh, the door shutting out the world behind you. The subtle scent of his cologne clung to the air—sandalwood, bergamot, and something inherently him. It wrapped around you like a second skin, comforting and just a little dizzying.

When you turned your head lazily toward the driver's seat, you found Bruce already watching you with that unnerving intensity. A thousand thoughts cycloned behind those stormy blue eyes, none of which he'd voice until he was ready.

You opened your mouth to say something teasing—probably about the dramatics of being stared at like a particularly compelling oil painting—but then he shifted, reaching into the inside pocket of his tailored coat to draw out a small velvet box.

Your body tensed before your mind had time to catch up. It was absurd. You'd been dating for almost a year, not nearly long enough to expect anything that serious. Right? Nonetheless, the sight of the box alone made your pulse quicken. It would not be entirely unwelcome. 

"Bruce—"

He opened it before you could spiral further, and nestled inside was not a ring, but a necklace. It was platinum, by the look of it, with a slender, almost imperceptible inlay of black diamonds. Refined and sleek, just like him. 

"To mark the deal," he clarified. "The start of another successful venture."

"You couldn't have possibly known the deal would go through."

He looked at you like you'd just insulted Alfred's biscuits. "Of course I did. You always accomplish what you set your mind to."

When he motioned for you to turn in your seat, you obeyed without a word. Warm fingers brushed your hair gently to one side, lingering just a moment too long against your skin before he reached around to fasten the clasp. The metal was cool against your collarbone, but his kiss to the back of your neck made you forget that detail entirely.

It wasn't just the kiss. It was the reverence in it. As if he were grounding you, silently telling you that in a world so ruthlessly fast, so relentlessly sharp, you were the one thing he wanted to slow down for.

You turned back to face him, feeling more seen than you had all day, but then something caught your eye. There was a faint bruise along his right cheekbone. Barely visible under the glow of the dashboard lights, but unmistakably there.

You frowned. You'd been too busy these past few weeks to pay proper attention, but now that you looked, he seemed worn. There was a touch of stiffness in the way he moved, the slight tightness around his eyes that didn't come from fatigue alone.

You had known Bruce Wayne since you were kids. You had seen him fall from trees and scrape his knees, heard him lie his way out of trouble with that disarming charisma. You knew the man behind the socialite mask better than most, so you knew this wasn't new.

You didn't know exactly what he did during the weeks he disappeared—off the grid, unreachable, returning with faint limps and fresh bruises he never explained. But you had a suspicion. You hadn't confronted him yet, of course. Not because you didn't care, but because you cared too much. You knew that if you pulled too hard on that thread, it would unravel something neither of you were quite ready to face.

You reached up without thinking, fingers ghosting just beneath the bruise. "You've been busy too," you murmured. "Are you alright?"

Bruce felt the guilt settle in his chest the moment your lips brushed his cheek, just above the fading bruise. It was a small gesture, but so full of love, that it tore through him like a bullet. You kissed him like he was something precious. Like he wasn't a man slowly weaving a noose around the neck of your world.

He'd lied to you.

No, not lied, just omitted. The difference was razor-thin, but he felt the sting regardless. The necklace hadn't just been a gift to celebrate your business deal. It was an apology for the truth he was keeping from you.

You thought he was there to support you today. And he was. He had been watching you with pride blooming in his chest as you stood your ground, fielded every question, and held your own like the veteran you were, but that wasn't the only reason he'd been in the building.

He hadn't told you about all his meetings later, and the real reason he had been at your office so late. He hadn't told you about your father.

Bruce knew too well that power often wore its virtue like a mask, and now, whispers were swirling—accounts of shady dealings, money funnelled through offshore accounts, associations with criminal networks that had never seen daylight. Whispers he couldn't ignore.

And your father had never been a man who left loose ends. Which meant that this building—your building—was a mausoleum of secrets waiting to be cracked open. And you, his only child, were the heir to it all.

You chattered beside him in the car, unaware of the war waging inside his head. You flitted between stories about team dynamics, upcoming plans, and the assistant you were mentoring, while all he could do was scrutinize you. 

Did you know? Were you wearing a mask, just like him? Had you always been pretending, too?

He hated the thoughts as soon as they surfaced. Hated that his instinct was to doubt you, but that was the curse of the cowl. Every time he got too close to something good, his mind reached for the cracks in it. He lived his life trying to peel back facades, so what right did he have to pretend your smile wasn't another mask?

And yet, you had been the one and only real thing in his life. He glanced at you, noting the way you absentmindedly toyed with the chain he had clasped around your neck. The little frown you gave your phone when the screen lit up with emails. The way you never took your eyes off him, even while talking, as if making sure he was still there.

If it was a mask, it was the most convincing one he'd ever seen, and that scared him more than anything.

If you were indeed hiding something, if you had known what heinous crimes your father was involved in, if you'd lied to him just as he was lying to you now, Bruce wasn't sure what he'd do. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to separate the man from the mission. If he could still do what he had to do when the time came.

The fall of your father's legacy was inevitable, and when it did come—when it came by his own hand—he prayed to every god he didn't believe in that he'd be able to extract his heart from it all. Because right now, it was tangled up in you.

Hopelessly. Irrevocably.

And the part that terrified him most? He wasn't sure he even wanted to untangle it.

Bruce let your voice wash over him, tugging him gently away from the grim spiral of his thoughts.

"...and of course, I had to step in before they nearly came to blows over who gets to run point on outreach," you were saying, exasperated but amused. "I had to remind them we're running a corporation, not a reality TV show."

"Sounds like you're running a daycare."

"You're not wrong." You leaned your head back against the seat, stretching your arms forward with a tired groan. "Except they're all in their fifties and think an Excel spreadsheet is a form of advanced sorcery."

He chuckled, eyes wandering across the empty parking lot around him, willing himself to put an end to your rambles and start the car. But he liked it when you talked like this, unguarded and loose-limbed with the ease of being with someone who knew you too well to be impressed. You didn't try to dazzle him. You never had to.

You sighed, the air in your lungs leaving you in a huff. "Now that my father's stepping back from everything, it means I have to do all of this myself."

Bruce's hands flexed ever so slightly on the wheel, but you didn't notice. "You never have to do anything by yourself."

Another lie. 

You shot him a grateful look. "Thanks, but I mean, he says he's taking time off to prioritize 'other things,' but won't tell me what those things are. Knowing him, it's either an obscure island retreat with no cell reception or another one of his mysterious hobbies that he refuses to elaborate on. Meanwhile, I'm playing heir, HR manager, and brand strategist all at once."

He hummed in acknowledgment.

"I had to sit down with one of our interns yesterday because she thought responding to emails with reaction memes was acceptable workplace etiquette."

Bruce raised a brow. "You're rather involved, aren't you? I'm sure someone else could have handled it in your stead. Give you time to decompress."

You shrugged. "That's what Father says, but I like doing things my way. You get to know your employees better like this."

That made him smile despite himself. Your ability to find humour in every situation, to lead without being cold, to carry the weight of an empire and yet talk about it like it was just another Tuesday impressed him more than anything. 

All the while, he sat beside you, nodding along without giving you an inkling of what he was hiding. If he told you—if he said your father wasn't just retreating to some hidden beach or vague spiritual journey but was instead being investigated for laundering money through shell companies tied to mob interests—you might stop looking so at peace. You might stop trusting him, and he wasn't quite ready for that.

Eventually, you turned to face him, a lopsided smile pulling at your lips. "I'm boring you, aren't I?"

He shook his head. "No. You never bore me."

Your grin deepened, and you leaned forward to press your cheek against his shoulder affectionately. "You're sweet when you're tired."

Bruce didn't answer. Didn't tell you that sweetness had nothing to do with it. He was simply hanging on to this moment because it might be the last. 

When he pressed his lips to the top of your head, you closed your eyes and tilted your face upward, waiting. You were bathed in moonlight where it streamed through the windshield, casting silver onto your cheekbones—beautiful in a way that made something twinge in Bruce's chest.

God, how was he supposed to let this go?

The following week would no doubt bring chaos. Warrants. Arrests. Headlines. And your last name and company would be at the center of it all.

You hadn't done anything. He tried to believe it with every fibre of his being. Nevertheless, innocence wouldn't shield you from collateral damage, and your father's sins had already rooted themselves deep into the legacy you were expected to carry. Bruce knew what it was like, to wear the weight of someone else's mistakes. 

He moved before he could talk himself out of it, drinking in the sight of you under the cool glow of Gotham's night. Your eyes were half-lidded with burnout, lips slightly parted as you caught your breath after a long day, and he thought that this might be the last time he'd get to see you like this. 

Peaceful. Unburdened. His.

With one hand cradling your jaw, and the other threading through your hair, he kissed you—suddenly, feverishly—as if trying to drink in every second of you before the world tore it away.

You made a sound of surprise against his mouth but didn't pull away, and your lips moved instinctively, the weariness dissipating from your frame as you gripped his lapel.

It was a desperate kiss. Apologetic. Fiercely tender in the way sorrow often was. His mouth moved with urgency as if he could etch himself into your bones through the press of his lips, and his thumb brushed the high point of your cheek, memorizing the shape.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes dark and searching as he pressed his forehead to yours. You whispered something he didn't quite catch, dazed from the intensity of it all, your fingers curling loosely at his chest.

He wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you nothing. 

You were the one to break the silence first. "If that's your way of saying congratulations, I approve."

Bruce snickered, still studying you like he hadn't convinced himself you were real. "Not exactly what I had planned."

"Well, if you're going to keep kissing me like the world's ending, you'd better at least feed me first."

"Is that your subtle way of saying you're hungry?"

"No, Bruce. That was me very unsubtly saying I'm starving."

"Right. Dinner."

"Drive, Wayne," you teased, pointing toward the steering wheel. "Or I swear, I'll ditch you for the nearest taco truck."

"Tempting offer," he mused as he shifted the car into gear. "But I had something a little nicer in mind."

"As long as it has fries and something chocolate, I won't be picky."

He nodded. "Fries, chocolate... and anything else you want. Tonight's yours."

You gave him a lazy smile. "Careful. I'll hold you to that."

The following week passed in silence. Not the gentle, comforting kind, but the kind that came before a storm, stretching over your days like a veil. That should have been your first warning.

Your father, without so much as a word of preparation, had flown out of the city on an impromptu vacation. You'd laughed about it on the phone, but you didn't question him. You didn't ask what, exactly, he was vacationing from, simply assuring him that you'd keep everything running in his absence.

Bruce had disappeared too. Vanished into the shadows of whatever double life he lived so deftly. That, you didn't question either. You were used to his absences and loved him despite them.

But this time you had promised yourself it would be different. When he returned, you would confront him. No more pretending not to notice the bruises blooming on his skin like violets in winter. No more silent glances or pretending he was just clumsy. You would ask. Demand. Insist that if he wanted to carry darkness in his marrow, he could at least allow you to help him shoulder the burden. No one should have to endure on their own, least of all him. 

Mercifully, the week was uneventful, allowing you to throw yourself headfirst into work, burying yourself beneath spreadsheets, projections, and meetings that bled into late nights. It was exhausting, yes, but it was yours. This new partnership was more than a win. It was the first real step toward something you had built with your own hands, separate from the empire your family name carried. This startup bore your vision. Your effort. Your name.

It had to succeed.

Then came the end. Or, rather, the beginning of it.

It started with the warrants. Then the headlines, the seizure of your childhood home, and the freezing of accounts. Accusations poured in like stormwater, each one a colder betrayal than the last. Investigations sullied every stitch of your life. Your father's name—once gilded in social circles and whispered with respect—now flashed across every screen, tangled in scandal, corruption, and crime.

The man himself was gone without explanation, and you were left to face it alone. The questions you didn't have the answers to, decisions made without your knowledge, strings pulled behind closed doors while you played puppet in boardrooms now turned battlegrounds. Stocks plummeted. Investors withdrew. The empire teetered.

All the while, you sat in sterile rooms with lawyers and crisis managers, trading sleep for strategy, tears for resolve. You plastered on poise like it was armour, but it cracked in the quiet moments. 

And Bruce Wayne? He had abandoned you too. 

At first, you offered him the benefit of the doubt. Missed calls, unread texts. You told yourself he was somewhere remote and unreachable. Busy. You even whispered forgiveness into the night air, fingers curling around your phone, willing him to call back.

Then came the sightings. He made appearances at galas, the high-rises of Wayne Enterprises, and in glossy society pages, polished as ever. Gotham's prince, untouched by the ruin that had devoured you.

Yet still no call or text. He'd cut you out of his life as easily as removing a puzzle piece that no longer fit.

And God, how you needed someone. Someone who wasn't paid by the hour to listen. Someone who would hold your shaking hands without judgment. Someone who knew the person behind the company. Behind the name. Behind the press statements and tight smiles.

Foolishly, you had once thought that it would be him, but now, with everything crumbling and no one left in the wreckage but you, it seemed even Bruce had abandoned you to the dumpster fire of your life. 

Today had been particularly brutal, another day of chasing explanations in courtrooms, of being expected to defend decisions you hadn't made, of trying to hold together the crumbling legacy that now tasted like rust on your tongue. You'd been forced to put your startup on indefinite pause just to keep your family's empire from imploding in real-time.

And still, you were losing.

A part of you wanted to let it burn. Let the headlines win. Let the stockholders protest.

But you couldn't. You owed it to your heritage. To the people who'd built this long before you.

To your father.

Your father who, despite the horrors unveiled in the past week, had once held your hand and told you the stars would bow to you. That you were his pride and joy. The memory of that version of him still clung to you, and though part of you hated him now—for vanishing without explanation, for forcing you to carry the shame of his choices—you still loved him. Loved him enough to wish for his return. 

The resentment boiled beneath your skin, nonetheless. For all the speeches about sacrifice and honour, he had vanished. Fled the city without a word. Left you to face the vultures and the wolves.

The media painted him a monster. The government labelled him a criminal. And you, his only child, had been left trying to convince yourself that he'd come back. But you feared it too because if he returned, he would be arrested. If he returned, there would be no more ambiguity to shield you. No more room for hope.

You couldn't even return to the one place in the world that had once made you feel safe.

Your childhood home had been stripped from you like everything else. Ousted, cast out by court orders and federal warrants, as agents and investigators swarmed the grounds in search of evidence. Evidence of what, you still weren't even sure. Your manor was no longer yours to enter, and the home you'd grown up in now belonged to suspicion and strangers.

So instead, you found shelter where the flashbulbs couldn't find you.

A run-down motel on the ragged edge of Gotham. Where the carpets smelled like mildew and the windows didn't lock right. Where the wallpaper peeled like old scabs and the silence could be bought by the hour. No one here cared who you were as long as you could pay them, and that anonymity was the closest thing to peace you could find.

You paced the floor in your socks, a worn patch in the carpet bearing witness to your anxiety.

Outside the door, a drunkard was making a commotion and you didn't have the energy to deal with it. Legal jargon. Press releases. Budget deficits. The ever-climbing mountain of debt. You had enough to deal with.

You cracked open another energy drink—your fourth? Fifth? You'd lost count—and downed it with the mechanical rhythm of survival. The empty can hit the trash with a hollow clang, joining its crumpled kin in the overflowing bin. Evidence of all the nights you'd tried to fix what was no longer fixable.

Finally, you collapsed backward onto the narrow bed, letting the stiff mattress and cheap sheets catch you. The springs groaned under your weight, and the ceiling stared down, stained like everything else in your life.

You turned your head to look at the crooked curtain. The window behind it gave a partial view of the street, where headlights passed like ghosts and neon signs flickered like dying stars. Anyone could look in. You knew that. The first-floor room had been a reckless decision, but what did it matter? 

The loneliness returned to coil around your ribs like barbed wire, because you hadn't expected to go through this alone. All you could wish for was that someone—anyone—would tell you what the hell you were supposed to do next.

Bruce Wayne had messed up. He'd messed up big time, and no plan or contingency could protect him from the aftermath of this. Not from the bone-deep ache of knowing he had done the one thing he swore never to do.

He had hurt you. No, worse, he had abandoned you.

The decision to disappear had felt strategic at first, necessary even. A merciful amputation. He had convinced himself that radio silence was a kindness. If he ghosted out of your life completely, then at least you could hate him instead of waiting for him. It was easier. You deserved better. And if he could just stay away, maybe you'd find something like peace again.

But it hurt more than he'd expected it to.

In the bitter hours between midnight and dawn, Bruce sat in the cold of the Batcave, surrounded by monitors and case files and the hum of silence. Your name remained unspoken, but your absence was carved into the air like a phantom. You haunted every inch of him.

In his most delusional moments, he tried to tell himself that you were just a fling. A casual dalliance. A distraction. But the lie always collapsed under the weight of memory.

You weren't some convenient warmth in the dark. You were the kid who used to curl up beside him in the library of Wayne Manor, huddled under the same blanket with a flashlight between you, whispering stories and pretending the world beyond those four walls didn't exist. You were the one who used to help Alfred bake cookies and sneak extras into his coat pockets like a co-conspirator. You were the one who had dragged him out to the gardens to stargaze after his parents' funeral, because you knew he couldn't sleep, and didn't ask why.

Every hallway of his manor remembered you. The way you used to peek around corners before sneaking up behind him. The faded marks on the billiards table from that time you got frustrated and slammed your cue stick in half. The sketch you left framed in the guest room. His home was no longer a home, because you had stopped existing in it. 

He'd tried to remove all the signs of you, but each act of erasure only made your absence more apparent. 

Worst of all was Afred's disapproval. The old butler didn't say anything directly, but the glances lingered longer, the tea was brewed with a touch too much bitterness, and sometimes Bruce would find the framed picture of the two of you—taken at a gala last year—mysteriously returned to the shelf no matter how many times he tucked it away.

Then there were the galas themselves. Pretending. Performing. Wearing the mask of Gotham's untouchable bachelor again.

Every night without you on his arm was agony. The flash of cameras, the flirtations, the empty laughter, it all made his skin crawl. The socialites gathered to him like moths to a flame, and the tabloids declared him single and so very available again.

But the truth was, he hadn't forgotten you.

He made sure every patrol began and ended outside the dingy motel you'd taken refuge in. A place that made his blood boil with its peeling paint and faulty locks and the creaking sign out front that buzzed half-lit neon into the darkness. He was furious with you for choosing a place so unsafe, but he was even more furious with himself for forcing you into it.

You should have been safe in your own home. Or even in his home, if nowhere else. But he had stripped you of everything and offered you nothing in return.

He did what he could anonymously. He paid off the worst of the paparazzi who managed to tail you. Made sure they didn't get too close, didn't publish the more invasive photos, didn't shout cruel questions in your face. He had them warned—some less gently than others.

He arranged for the more dangerous elements around the motel to disappear. Muggers. Stalkers. Dealers. Drunks. The ones who caused noise in the middle of the night. The ones who might scare you. He made sure they never came back.

He made anonymous contributions to your legal team, to fund the best defence lawyers in Gotham. He whispered into the right ears at the right firms to slow the hemorrhaging of your company stock. And when certain contracts came under scrutiny, he pulled strings to have Wayne Enterprises temporarily shoulder some of the burden without naming you directly.

He was helping from the shadows because he couldn't face you. He couldn't stand the thought of looking you in the eyes and seeing disappointment. Or worse—hatred. 

You were the strongest person he knew. You would survive this, but you would not survive him and the ruin that he brought with him everywhere he went. He was poison, and everything he touched eventually soured. 

Your life was already on fire, and he had no idea how to put it out without reducing you to charcoal ruin along with everything else had had ever loved and lost. 

[pomegranatelifethis]

What If in the ‘Forgotten Princess’ x Robin Hood y/n ran away from home if you can call it that because like Robin Hood were they GOOD at it and made a team of lost or abused people who have talent but were left in the roast like them…

They disguised as a circus or like Yaelokre and they move from site to site and from town to town and they start slowly growing they know that y/n used to be a princess but they put it to getter that they were abused because they never hear about them and the scares and like y/n is nice and give them a home so they not fighting the head that feeds them

And the bats find out that they are dead and how and they are sad and stuff but one day they find out that their home was robbed by the gang (using y/n knowledge on the castle layout) and they found y/n circus/yaelokre and see them and when they follow them they found out they are Robin hood and they see them take away a girl that was being abused and take them back to camp

And they learn why they basically adopted a bunch of kids and adults because they were living in hate, hurt, and no good life and they took them away and trained them to rob and give to the poor and to play music or do what they love

But they get caught and arrows are pointed at them and offer weapons and when they are surrounded they say ‘I the dad/brother/sister of your leader’ and y/n look at them with filed eyes and not love they show to the team some of them step back just by that look and said ‘since when?..’ and then they knocked out and left on a road with no of the money to fables they had

If you do this thank you, I put a way to muck through into this and love your writing :)

The Princess Forgotten in the Dark

The palace was never your home. It never had been.

People avoided your gaze, servants who didn’t even know your name were treated as more important than you. You were supposed to be a princess. But in reality, you were nothing more than a ghost.

And one day, you ran.

Maybe out of hunger, maybe out of fear, or maybe just… because you wanted something to change.

But you wouldn’t have survived long on your own.

Just when you thought it was over, they found you.

Thieves.

But not the kind you expected. They weren’t bad people.

They were like you.

They took in the lost, the abandoned, the abused.

They had built their own little family.

And they took you in, too.

They fed you.

They gave you a name.

They gave you a purpose.

In time, you learned to be fast. To move quietly, to pick locks, to disappear without a trace.

But more importantly, you learned to save others.

No one had ever saved you, but now you could be the one to save them.

You raided slave markets, you stole from corrupt lords, you fed the hungry.

People began to call you a hero.

You were free.

Until one day, your past found you.

—

A heist went wrong.

You were surrounded. Arrows aimed at you.

And worse… Batfamily was there.

Bruce’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"I am your father."

Everyone turned to look at you.

You looked back at them.

But there was no recognition in your eyes.

You didn’t know them.

And you didn’t want to.

"Since when…?" someone whispered.

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know.

Because it didn’t matter.

Because you weren’t that person anymore.

And then… darkness took you.

But even as you fell, you knew one thing.

You never wanted to go back.

Because your family was here, among the thieves.

And they never forgot you.

[fumifooms]

The Nakamoto household - facts & theories masterpost

Table of contents:

the hierarchy & general situation

The parents

The Maizuru situation

The siblings

The other retainers

Izutsumi

Toshiro

Conclusion

I also made tldr summary charts here. This post is about collecting facts about the setting and characters, but it’s gonna be a lot of analysis on what it means through the lens of Toshiro as well, his relationship and place in everything etc etc. They have entangled drama the scale of Daltian Clan. Things are so interwoven it’s hard to keep topics neatly in their own section, because of this pictures may be relevant at several point of this but I mostly won’t be putting them in twice, you might have to do some scrolling up while reading if you want the visual proof to accompany statements. Unlike with Chilchuck’s family there’s less ambiguousness and more intricate details and implications so it’s less theorizing & headcanoning and more stringing together all the crumbs canon gave us. I also dig into some cultural parallels, especially since characters from Wa are the most culturally coded in the series. Also disclaimer that I’ll be calling Shuro Toshiro through this whole thing because that’s his actual name & Shuro isn’t even a nickname he’s shown to like, for accuracy’s sake. The servant girls have real names but are always called by their code names so I’ll call them as such, except for Izutsumi who was named Asebi which I won’t be using.

The general situation

To start off, what’s the situation in canon? All three kids of the head of the house, the three sons (Toshiro and his two younger brothers), are sent out on a vague mission to find something interesting for his father to pick the heir. Each son is thus on their own journey, out with their own group of retainers for an unsure length of time, during canon it’s been 2 years that Toshiro left the house for this mission, and they seemingly all drifted towards dungeons. It’s important to remember that this state of things is the exception and not the rule, and before this the sons lived at home and had different uses of their time, and the retainers had other jobs than care after them. See the next paragraph.

The household offers ninja services, no exaggeration or misuse of the term, mostly spyint but also "covert maneuvers" which could include anything including assassination of people high up. That’s the job of their servants/retainers at least, the heads themselves are more like managers probably, possibly samurais themselves though especially since as we see with the heirs (besides the samurai armor) they also got trained in fighting as their skills showcase. I need to dig into the history of samurais more before I can draw the parallel confidently though. The Nakamoto household is noble/wealthy, distinguished as the Adventurer’s Bible puts it, but it works for and puts its service at use for "their local lord". It buys servants, but also has families who have served it for generations like with Hien. The comic shows that there aren’t only women servants, it’s just the ones we see all happen to be because Toshiro’s retainers are only a small team of all of Nakamoto’s servants.

Above, in a page showcasing characters’ relationships with their party leader: 父親の部下を借りている状態なので、 距離がある。Doubtlessly there must be a translation of this already somewhere but I’m lazy and impatient so I turned to machine translation instead, this translates into: "Since he is borrowing his father's subordinates, there is a distance between him and them". Calling the servants retainers is what most of the fandom does and it’s accurate so I’ll be calling them this.

Hien and Toshiro were childhood friends which means the servants do have some degree of contact not even just together but with the heirs too, or maybe just specifically Hien, since both their parents were ninjas for the Nakamotos she ended up getting raised there and they let her play with him as an exception? They did end up drifting away as adults as their relationship got more professional, so it’s possible. The servants eat and sleep in shared spaces, separate from the masters, though Maizuru has her own bedroom, if the room configuration at the in is to be believed + it’d make sense since she’s governess/head servant. I’m hesitant wether to say it’s implied that this group of 4 retainers was always a bit of a team or it wasn’t and got formed for Toshiro specifically. We know that Benichidori had little contact with Toshiro before they were sent out together for example, but we do see all three girls with Izutsumi in Inutade’s extra when they were younger, and them eating in the same japanese styled room etc. The inn they stay at on The Island is western styled though they do have futons rather than beds (there’s only one bed in their shared room and Hien has it because of her rank).

From Izutsumi’s Adventurer’s Bible profile: "Maizuru, who was also Shuro's governess, is the one thing Izutsumi fears. After Izutsumi was taken in by the Nakamoto family, Maizuru forced her through a harsh training regimen of speech, common sense, and fighting skills. Since Izutsumi refused to listen to her, Maizuru set a curse on her that would activate if Maizuru didn't touch her within a set time frame: "Ninja Art: Babysitter." "

Maizuru, called a governess, is the one training the girls, at least some of them, we know for a fact she was the one to train Izutsumi for example, and in general she’s the one in charge of the ninja girls we see. She was a ninja herself but retired from frontline missions, but has a central role managing the servants instead. Inutade for example is strong but not stealthy, and it’s said that it’s Maizuru’s job to choose how to train her and what role to give her in consequence. Her training includes manners but fighting as well, notably kunais and martial arts. Hien is shown to use bombs and Benichidori is implied to be good at disguises, Inutade uses a bold weapon like a club but it’s implied with "ogres and clubs just go together" and Maizuru not knowing where to put her to use that it’s uncommon for Nakamoto servants to use those. Their board game artworks also show their specialties neatly. When brought into the household, the servants are given new names and their whole lives become devotion to the house and their duties. The names might be intended to act as code names due to them being ninjas? It’s implied that they never use their non-code names anymore once they start serving the household. Maizuru’s training also contains language and "common sense"… Critical thinking? As well as implied etiquette. This isn’t surprising, as she was the one put in charge of raising not only Toshiro but his brothers as well.

Oh yes I want to mention that all the retainers’ "first deaths" are in the dungeon during canon, considering our main cast we’re used to death being permissible because dungeons make resurrections possible, but it’s relevant to remember that these people never died before. Never. These girls are professionals, ninjas with a sometimes very dangerous job. Messing up means death, permanently.

From what we see and with who we see, the hierarchy is:

Father (head of house, his word goes)

Mother (has status which puts her wishes above others’ and give her some control over the house, it’s unsure how much though, but hierarchy wise she’s very much above the rest but below the father)

Maizuru (governess, in charge of (at least some) servants and raising Toshiro. Two dots)

Hien (leader of their squad, trained servant from a family devoted to the Nakamotos. Two dots)

Benichidori (trained bought servant. Two dots)

Inutade and Izutsumi (bought servants. Power wise from their rank it’s unsure just how much the difference between Inutade (who has one dot), Izutsumi (who has none) and Benichidori (who has two) is, since Hien is team leader between the four servants at least that’s measurable. Inutade gets some janitor duties, and Izutsumi has a curse put on her so she doesn’t run away I suppose. Power wise it’s unsure, but socially/role wise Inutade and especially Asebi are treated worse.)

I didn’t add the sons because I’m talking more generally about the power structure and it’d depend on each sibling, like Toshiro’s wants and directives during canon trump Maizuru’s, but Maizuru is also his nanny and manages the girls so she has a lot of importance and sway even on the final decisions.

The parents

I am so pissed I forgot that we know Toshiro’s father’s name, Toshitsugu, from these panels showing the progression of the family tree. I am so pissed I’m adding this halfway into writing this whole thing, I am not gonna go back and replace every "the father" by his name atm.

The father is the part of this puzzle most important yet most shrouded in mystery, or rather a lack of details. What we do know paints a pretty full and vivid portrait: impulsive and cares mainly about his own entertainment. Maizuru calls him a fool, his sons are exasperated and go "This again?" when he summons them saying that they’re boring/dull, everyone knows he’s having an affair and he often has undignified demeanor, but what he says goes so yes Maizuru will take Izutsumi under her wing, yes the sons will be going out right away into the world to find you the 8th world wonder, yes whatever you want lord. He seems to have little care for how his action affects others, like crashing into Maizuru’s room at night and asking she take care of a catgirl, or sending out his sons suddenly with kicks to the butts. He does what he wants hen he wants and others have to comply.

Like we see with Izutsumi and Inutade, he tends to take a liking to slaves here and there and buy them on the spot, usually at entertainment places, like sumo wrestling matches for Inutade and a freakshow for Izutsumi. The Adventurer’s Bible states him acquiring Inutade as "By coincidence, Shuro's father came to see her first match; he liked her and bought her for the Nakamoto family." and Izutsumi as "She was on display as a "cat-girl" in a sideshow when Shuro's father took an interest in her and bought her." In Maizuru’s extra, he calls Izutsumi a "souvenir" he got for her, and he’s drunk so it could well be assumed that buying Izutsumi was a drunken whim, and that he mitht be alcoholic. You can’t really say that he picks them out because he sees potential in them to be a ninja or would be useful, since with Izutsumi she had no fighting training and Inutade doesn’t fit the skills they seek like stealth and she has trouble fitting in. You could assign noble goals to him like maybe wanting to help or relating to the misfits, but I think with what we see of him it’s more likely that he likes to pick up "oddities", like a catgirl at a freakshow or an ogre, especially since one of the only things we know of him is he wants his sons to bring back interesting trophies from their travels. Toshiro, about his father buying Inutade, says: "People in power desire ogre as servants, and ogres are chosen as opponents in tests of strengths or military exploits. My father bought her for similar reasons."

Also from this we can infer that he goes out to events often, like circus and sumo wrestling, again mostly for entertainment from what we see. I like to think it’s implied that he used to travell maybe still does, due to his own liking for it as a test and because he visits various places like the sideshow, plus his forearm scars in Toshiro’s extra… But him being a samurai in service of a lord could definitely explain that.

This all paints an interesting picture doesn’t it… The Nakamoto’s lifestyle is super encased in rules and social propriety, duty and hierarchy. Old noble man who’s been surrounded by propriety all his life and just wants some spark of interesting stuff happening amongst the humdrum of his lavish cushioned life at home, and is shitty to people around him in consequence and due to his privilege allowing him to. He’s despicable, but from his 3 appearances he becomes an interesting well-fleshed character, at least proportionally to the screentime he gets…

We also know that the affair with Maizuru is well known at least inside the household, so there’s no genuine secrecy around the topic. Makes sense that the wife would hate her guts.

Ahh yes the mother. Little is known about the mother, except that from Maizuru’s profile "Shuro’s mother can’t stand the sight of her, to the point where there are areas on the property Maizuru is forbidden to enter. Maizuru, however, is impressed by his wife’s strength of character." From this I glean that she does have enough power/respect in the house that she can make rules like where Maizuru is allowed to go. Also the implication that otherwise Mazuru would have access to EVERYWHERE in the house despite being only a (high-ranking) servant is a bit interesting. Wether the mother’s "strength of character" is overt and hot-headed or understated and cool-headed is unsure, but I imagine the latter more. I could see Maizuru’s angle in many ways, from being able to tolerate "that fool" aka the father both just in general and with knowing that he’s cheating on her, to knowing how hard it is to be respected as a woman and admiring her putting up with it all and still being able to have sway in the household. This is I think the only mention of the mother anywhere. Doesn’t seem like she is an important figure to Toshiro at all: in fact we hear about her on Maizuru’s profile, and seeing all of this we can see the importance of her in Maizuru’s backstory and life, moreso than Toshiro’s. I imagine she’s a bit of a recluse, which is part of why Maizuru not being allowed to roam the full house is important, because them running into each other at the house is high.

It’s unsure how much contact the parents have with their kids. What we know is that they left the principal tasks of raising the kids, or at least Toshiro, to servants. Toshiro’s profile says that he’s more attached to Maizuru than his parents, and that’s the phrasing. From the comic where their father summons the sons, it does seem like they’re more or less used to interacting, with the sons’ "This again?". So it’s not that they’ve only interacted with them few times enough to count on fingers, but how meaningful were those interactions? From Toshiro’s profile we know he has a complex where he thinks he’ll never get recognition from his father or be able to measure up to him… But is that more born out of secondhand gossip and expectations, or from direct interactions with him that made him feel that way? Likely a mix of both, especially since the father does seem to be very dismissive, uncaring and insulting with his sons. Oh, but it’s definitely notable that in the Hag monster tidbit (below in Maizuru’s section) six years old Toshiro runs to his father scared shitless for help against the shikigami, and his father casually helps him without batting an eye. Toshitsugu knows how to deal with Maizuru’s shikigamis, and he does so efficiently and without any sense of worry or urgency. Although the event traumatized Toshiro and he was very scared, it doesn’t seem like his father offered any comfort, beyond just helping getting rid of it and letting him cower behind him without comment. Toshitsugu gives hungover vibes in that one imo haha. It’s shown he was already training as a ninja, perhaps this event only reinforced Toshiro’s complex, seeing his father, the samurai the achieved man who has expectations for him, so unfazed and uncaring like that.

The Maizuru situation

Let’s establish a timeline first. It’s left vague how much time she’s served the Nakamoto family for, or how she came to be in their service. The central point is that "She was put in charge of raising their children at a young age". If straight from his birth, Maizuru started taking care of Toshiro when she was 15 years old. If from toddler age, then 16. It’s uncertain if when she stopped getting front-line espionage missions, but we know it’s late rather than early despite having kid raising duties. But well, since she’s also in charge of the ninjas she’s definitely has a multitasking role even now.

The dad prob has around 5-10 years more than Maizuru, I’d say. We only see half of his face and only a good few years in the past, around ~3 years ago probably with the shuro quest and a good 7 years with Izutsumi as a kid, but visually those are the vibes I’m getting. From Toshiro’s birth, it’s possible that the father was 15 when the baby was born too? But conception would have been closer to 14 years old then, and yeah I don’t think they marry and have kids that young. Toshiro is 26 years old in canon and is unmarried, and the heir hasn’t been officially picked, so marriage and kids don’t seem to be in the family’s priorities. Even if Maizuru do say that the father would love if Toshiro brought back a wife.

Now the elephant in the room: she has an on-and-off affair with the father and it has been si for many many years, at LEAST 7 years since that’s when we see that comic of him going into her chambers about Izutsumi, and in the comic above, Hien in that panel has an ambiguous age. Regardless it’s definitely implied that it’s a long, long-standing thing. Hien’s phrasing above makes it sound as if it’s not purely physical, as if feelings are involved, "he’s head over heels for his confidante", and who knows if this relationship is part of why Maizuru was chosen to be the governess, or even hired at all.

It’s in the feud with his father that we learn about maizuru’s affair and how after learning it he started shutting her out emotionally. It’s left vague when Toshiro learned about it, Hien made it sound as if everybody always more or less knew but I don’t think Toshiro started shutting her out when he was still pretty young. Regardless, the two are implied to be linked, his dislike of his father/complex and how he stopped getting along well with Maizuru/being emotionally open with her. Is it that he now feels as though Maizuru is actually on his father’s side and not his own, that after all if she had to choose she’d pick him over Toshiro too? Or is it that, because his father’s known to be a self-centered frivolous jerk, that knowing she lets it happen, "can’t seem to shake it", he respects her less? He has an irresponsible reputation and she does give off the vibe of needing to clean up his messes, so that wouldn’t be unplausible either.

On the flipside from her perspective, since he learned she was his dad’s mistress he emotionally shut her out, which can partly explain why she’s SO fussy with him and happy at the slightest hint of happiness or compliance, like when he listens to her and eats, or maybe even being happy that he lets her help him dress and keep tidy (imo this is supported by how they interact in the page showing him interacting with all his party members). She wants to regain that closeness they once had and for her baby chick to be alright as he’s slipping through her fingers. Man so sad to think about him rejecting her when he’s the only thing in her life. She’s raised him for 26 years, no wonder she’s so attached to him, the only thing in her life she feels true unconditional attachment for. Maizuru says that she thinks Toshiro’ll be a better head of the house than the father, too. The respect and care is somewhat onesided, given freely from her side but repressed from his end. When she cares for Toshiro is when her demeanor immediately and drastically softens. She gets easily carried away when it comes to him, rambling enthusiastically or smiling widely or tearing up. Her tendency to ramble or tell anecdotes about Toshiro is shown making Hien and Benichidori go "Here she goes again…" twice through canon.

With Izutsumi’s timeline we see Izutsumi was taken into the Nakamoto household at 10 yo, and since in the comic with Maizuru and the dad she’s shown as stinky and all I imagine she arrived there the same day, so Maizuru was in charge of her since she was first here. In fact if we assumed that it’s the same day as when he bought her at the circus show, then we could assume that buying her was a drunken whim like mentioned.

Since Izutsumi was taken in at 10 and she’s 17, this would mean that Maizuru is 34 years old here. She looks younger without makeup, but lower than that is mathematically impossible besides maybe 33 if Maizuru and Izutsumi’s birthdays line up just right.

Time for the second elephant in the room!!

Maizuru’s magic

Maizuru is the only person in the Nakamoto household, anyone from Wa really, who we see using magic, I doubt she’d be the only one who can use magic in the household but as the governess it wouldn’t be unplausible I suppose. From what we see, the magic is estimated by Marcille to be an "appropriation of gnomic magic" with an eastern script. For my analysis of written magic (though with only a brief glance over Maizuru’s magic), see this post.

If you scroll up and read the little section on Maizuru’s profile, Ninja art: babysitter: "One of the curses put on Izutsumi is Ninja Art: Babysitter, which manifests as a terrifying hag shikigami. Unless Maizuru touches the victim within a set time frame, this terrible curse makes a hag appear and chase them around with a carving knife. Maizuru originally created it in an attempt to keep Shuro from getting lost, but it ended up traumatizing him…"

From Izutsumi’s profile: "Maizuru, who was Shuro’s governess, is the one thing Izutsumi fears. […] Since Izutsumi refused to listen to her, Maizuru set a curse on her that would activate if Maizuru didn’t touch her within a set time frame: "Ninja Art: Babysitter." It was put on her when she was 12. Since Toshiro had it as a kid, presumably the curse can be lifted off rather easily, Marcille was confident on reverse engineering it as well. It’s unsaid what the time frame is, it’s kept vague everywhere and Izutsumi herself says "who knows" how long it is. Izutsumi ran away despite the very real risk of it killing her. Essentially, Maizuru can put people in a timebomb collar

… MAIZURU WHAT THE HELL

As we might have expected, Maizuru being given the task of rasing a child at 15 did not go perfectly. This, a babysitting technique??! This comic happens when Toshiro was 6 and so Maizuru was 21. Interesting to note that Toshiro didn’t even know it was Maizuru’s doing before this conversation during canon, and he doesn’t know how to bring it up or deal with it how it affected him. Maizuru seems surprisingly uncaring of Toshiro’s feelings on the matter here, oblivious to his conflict her and fondly recalling it all.

This curse is a shikigami. From her profile: "A shikigami user, Maizuru has a variety of shikigami that have been sealed in paper as her servants. Her favorite seems to be Gyuki, a bull ogre." Now don’t ask me when Gyuki appears, I do not remember it. But before we go into the cultural/historical basis for this practice, let’s take a second to recognize the parallel that Maizuru has servants she keeps sealed unless useful in the moment, even despite having enough "attachment" to have a favorite. She’s the governess in charge of the other servants, and she has shikigamis, which she has used on the heir and the runt at the bottom of the hierarchy alike.

Shikigami, in traditional japanese folklore, are conjured to exercise risky orders for their masters, such as spying, stealing and enemy tracking. Shikigami are said to be invisible most of the time, but they can be made visible by binding them into small, folded and artfully cut paper manikins.

Shikigamis are from onmyodo, onmyoji is a profession-legal title historically but it’s what you call a practitioner of onmyodo, and so I feel content in saying that Maizuru is an onmyoji, or based on it. Her outfit reminds me of a shinto priest. It’s interestingly closer to a shinto priest outfit than a miko/shrine maiden’s (in picture below, 2 instead of 5), and I feel like red being chosen for the inner sleeve is a very charged decision since the white & red color combo is the shinto clothes color combo. Especially white clothes with red inner sleeve. Shinto priests can be women nowadays but they’re rare, and onmyojis can be considered shinto priests though it’s a more complex than that. Image below as example, source. Now I don’t think Maizuru has the role or prestige of a priest at all- But the association with onmyodo and spirituality is definitely meant to be made I think. Onmyojis are usually clothed similarly to this.

The babysitter ninja art seems to be based off of the hannya yokai. "They were once human women who were consumed by jealousy and transformed into demonesses", twisted by anger and resentment. Interesting considering her being a mistress to a man whose wife hates her. Hannyas are associated with wisdom because of its name, but there is nothing positive about them. At its highest level of "demonic corruption" if I can call it that, their body tend to become serpentine, fun link to make with her name being from the snakeberry plant.

Other cultural ties or symbolism on Maizuru’s character could be found in the motif of cranes due to her sleeves, in the tales of the crane wife, origami cranes (called orizuru, from deformation of 鶴 "tsuru" aka "crane". All names are written in katakanas in Dungeon Meshi, but thus if we had had the kanjis it’s possible her name would have been written with the kanji for crane), tennyos, and japanese crane symbolism in general. I thought cranes might have been associated with motherhood, but seemingly not in japanese culture at least, I was thinking of storks haha.

Ok speaking of her name. Maizuru is the name of an existing japanese city (舞鶴), meaning "dancing crane". From @room-surprise’s work in progress research paper on Dungeon Meshi characters’ names: "Maizuru is her ninja code name, and comes from “maizurusou”, which is maianthemum dilatatum, the snakeberry plant/two-leaved Solomon's seal/false lily of the valley. Lily of the Valley is a plant associated with motherhood and virtue… So Maizuru being a false Lily of the Valley implies that she is a false, replacement mother, and also hints at the way that Toshiro became cold towards her when he realized she was his father’s mistress, and not a pure, virtuous mother-like figure that he thought she was. Also, lilies are toxic to cats, which makes sense since Maizuru and Izutsumi have an extremely bad relationship." For more details I’ll leave it up to Room when the paper is ready to be released. Edit: It’s out!! Click here! Incredible meta that goes into a ton of details not only about Maizuru.

So some big themes of her character are: (false) motherhood, spirituality/magic, control, cranes, woman’s jealousy.

The siblings

Alriight so besides Toshiro the eldest at 26 years old, there is Toshiyuki (Toshitsuge in one fantranslation) the middle son and Toshizane the youngest (Toshikage in one fantranslation). They were all said to be raised by Maizuru. "A strange level of distance" is interesting. Why strange? I feel like this implies they do interact regularly, and that they’re all rather civil wirh each other, but they still have little bond to speak of. That wouldn’t surprise me, especially since even inside the family etiquette and propriety and rules are enforced, the summoning by his father feels very formal and they all listen to him standing in silence despite having snappy inner thoughts. It’s unsure if they were largely raised together or apart, but since Maizuru was their (at least main) caretaker/governess it implies that they were imo. They were put in competition with each other for the title of heir to the house, though it’s unsure to what degree. It’s examplified by their family all having names that start with "Toshi" that the legacy is very important and thrust upon them, cogs in a machine almost. They all think the same thing when their father summons them and has a spiel, so they’re used to the same sort of treatment and they are indeed brothers for being on similar wavelengths haha.

Toshiyuki, as seen in the comic about his retainers, the poor soul sent into Darkest Dungeon, is brattish. Rude, selfish and rather lecherous, does not hesitate to be mean to his retainers and complain he wasn’t given women retainers. Visually he looks what, 14 years old top. I wonder if Maizuru stopped using her babysitter ninja art on the heirs after it traumatized Toshiro, and if so maybe that explains why Toshiyuki Knows No Fear In His Heart™️ and that’s why he can spout off stuff like that.

The retainers for the youngest brother, Toshizane, don’t seem to be as clad in ninja gear as the other two, seems like the priority is to take care of the very young young master there? Rather than truly go adventuring and dungeoneering, perhaps. Not that it’s ever said by anyone that their quest is to go into dungeons specifically, only to find something "interesting" to bring back, but both Toshiro and Toshiyuki are shown to have ended up drifting into dungeons. Toshizane looks young, I’d clock him 8 years old personally. He’s drawn looking rather innocent, especially the headshot doodle above and in the Toshitsuge complaining about his retainers comic. ALTHOUGH on the latter, interestingly as we see with Toshiro having a smug smirk in that same panel (or alternatively a smug indifferent/uncomfortable "i don’t care about this, even though you want it so much" look which at the very least is very exaggerated from how he emotes in reality), it’s Toshiyuki’s unreliable/exaggerated vision of his brothers and it doesn’t necessaeily reflect reality, though it’s still interesting to note that that’s the vision Toshiyuki has of his brothers/the impression Toshizane gives off. That can imply juicy dynamics for the brothers, for example if Toshiyuki feels as though he’s in competition with his brothers, feels superior to them, that instead of pushing the shitty family dynamic angst onto his father he puts the blame for it all onto Toshiro. Toshizane seems maybe too young to notice the tensions and seriousness around him, maybe more coddled… IS WHAT I WOULD SAY BUT in the comic where their father send them away he’s as well-behaved and serious as the others, so clearly he has a grasp on his role.

When talking about which retainers go with who, it’s said it was the father’s choice. I’d like to assume it wasn’t an airheaded/random choice. Maybe he knew that Toshiyuki would be weird about having women in his team of retainers? And wants to forge their character or protect them in the way they need. Though how Toshiro’s party only has women isn’t only pointed out and commented on by the comic with Toshitsuge but also in the main Dungeon Meshi story, both Marcille and Chilchuck going "his party is fully made up of women", one more loudly than the other haha. So it does feel like a somewhat pointed/purposeful decision, if not that the 4 girls were already a team like I mentioned.

The other retainers

Already made an analysis of Hien and Benichidori’s relationship (+ moment compilation) here. Honestly my juices are exhausted so quick rundown:

Hien’s parents both serve the Nakamotos, so she grew up with the family and was even a childhood friend of Toshiro. She assumed he and her might end up in a Maizuru-Toshitsugu situation ‘just because that’s how things are’/‘it’d be a natural development’ if we’re to believe Hien, ahh what growing up at the Nakamotos’ with those role models will make you believe is normal hah, and was surprised when it ended up not in that way at all. They grew more distant with time, in good part because of the professional nature of their roles in relation to each other (truly a reversal of the Maizuru-Toshitsugu situation). She’s the leader of their lil squad, under Maizuru, she’s very confident and she gets the perks, like getting the bedframe in the shared inn room. For all the details just read her page. She has two dots, showing her rank as a full fledged ninja. I made a more in depth more speculative reading of her in this post.

Benichidori was bought, by "the Nakamotos" so we don’t know who made the final decision. She’s perceptive and submissive, her specialty is implied to be disguise. She never had much contact with Toshiro before she became part of his party. She has facial dysmorphia where she fears the judgement of others if she doesn’t wear makeup and highly values beauty, in her extra her anxiety really shows and she ends up angrily snapping at Hien. Benichidori ends up taking a big liking to Hien and from there on they’re implied to be inseparable. She has two dots, showing her rank as a full fledged ninja.

Inutade is said to worship Toshitsugu because he "saved her" from her horrible life conditions, buying her personally from the sumo matches, she’s extremely grateful to the family and is happy to do any work they give her and is highly satisfied with her current living conditions. She seems to find Toshiro intimidating, though. She was separated from her parents from before she can remember and raised as a sumo wrestler in inhumane betting matches, where her front tooth broke. It seems she has very littke ambitions and dreams besides obeying orders day to day, but after Izutsumi fled away she was happy for her and mused that she’d love to go out and find her one day. They’re so besties Izutsumi gave her a dream of her own I’m sobbing… </3 She has one dot, showing she still has to be attributed her role and earn her stripes.

Their approval rating of their leader. The highest total score from all the parties.

Izutsumi

Sighh where to even begin. Her timeline was put in Maizuru’s section of this post but the rundown is "taken away from parents and turned into a beastkin" at 6 yo (the human half of her soul), "sent to a sideshow on the island of Wa" at 7 yo and bought by Toshitsugu at 10 yo when he took an interest in her when he visited the sideshow. Maizuru put the curse on Izutsumi at age 12, so from then on she always had to not stray much far from Maizuru or risk death, it’s unsure if Inutade’s extra is from before that time, before she was 12, so she could still attempt many many tries to run away. If that’s the case, then Maizuru’s curse was very much treated as a last resort, honestly beyond everything else I can see it being a pain that Maizuru would need to touch her every so often on Maizuru’s schedule as well. The alternative is that, not unlike Kabru who had no regrets dying in a dungeon rather than staying with Milsiril, she’d risk her life to get a taste of freedom. Besides, you know, being a slave and having a timebomb collar with Maizuru’s curse, her frustrations with her life with the Nakamotos is most concisely put in the comic just up above, Inutade’s extra.

She has no dot tattoo, meaning she’s at rock bottom of the hierarchy. It makes sense, since unlike Inutade she’s rebellious and needs threats to obey orders, and even then might try shifty business.

This last part where Izutsumi tries sleeping with Toshiro is most interesting to me. So she’s sought out contact with Toshiro before, she considers him "the stuck-up guy" but she doesn’t exactly hate him. I wonder if this comic is set in the inn on The Island or back at the Nakamoto household, because if that’s the latter it implies that she could get access to his room if she’s sneaky.

Oh oh also, this is fanon but since Toshiro’s weapon is one used usually on horseback, and with the steadfast and upright character of horses I associate Toshiro with horses a bit, though this is wild fanon. What’s interesting is that the plant Asebi was named after is a plant infamous for being toxic to horses. Hehe hehehe he wears a ponytail… Hm now that I think of it hairdos have importance for samurais, should look into that.

Toshiro

God. Ok. Everything was leading up to this guy. Need to split open his head like a geode and vibecheck his brain crystals. Let’s get some interesting details out of the way first.

His weapon is a tachi, not a katana. The wikipedia on tachis is more in depth if you want, but I consider the article I linked to be in deoth and digestible. Tachis are heavier and longer blades than katanas, and make for better horseback weapons than close combat. The way Toshiro uses one instead of a katakana shows that he’s extra strong… And does make sense, since most monsters won’t fight in as close quarters as human fighters. If katanas aren’t a thing in the world yet could make a difference, since tachis were invented first, and once the katana was invented and spread tachis became something more common in higher-ranking samurais. In the monster tidbit of the Hag, it’s shown that even at 6 years old Toshiro was training and learning ninja skills, his first instinct to the shikigami besides running being to fight.

Toshiro knew that Izutsumi wanted to leave, for sure. He may have been sympathetic, if his cryptic look back at her in the ‘Toshiro interacting with his party members’ page means anything. As seen below though, him being sympathetic doesn’t necessarily mean that much. Also, Toshiro had to have known about the curse on Izutsumi, where if Maizuru doesn’t touch her once in a while she’d die. "Asebi must have ran away, leave her" can be seen as subtle support for her to gain her freedom, but it could just as easily be seen as him leaving her behind to die. Because the outcome options are 1) she gets killed by Maizuru's curse, 2) she finds a way to break the spell, 3) she finds a way back to them.

He’s very conflict averse. Wether it be in relationships like with Laios or the status quo. Will not stand up for 99% things including himself. He obeys his father quietly despite his anger and dislike. This is the same guy who can't even get himself to speak up to correct the butchering of his name, the slippery slope that got him tangled in the Laios party seemingly without resistance. It’s very japanese etiquette from even nowadays, never saying a direct no to not be rude. ALSO THAT PANEL, has Toshiro beaten an ogre before?? Is that a brother of his?? Does seem in character for Toshiyuki the most, unless Toshiro was desperate to earn his father’s attention with feats. On the right I’d say the ones in the foreground are two of the brothers, maybe the third being the one to gesture to the ogre. It’s worth noting that inheritance laws during the Edo period often made the heir the son with "the most merit".

When with a goal that’s important to him he’s fine with even starving for it. Although what we see him be like that about in canon is Falin, aka self-admittedly in the post-canon proposal comic "the first person he has liked this much", which for him I feel is like admitting she’s one of the first things he has truly wanted for himself and fought for, soo… It’s more like an exceptional freaking out moment than something that would be recurring, most likely. How disheveled he got is a testament to how much he would forego propriety and rules for people of his status for the person he cares about most. Maizuru says the first personal request he’s (ever?) made was for them to help him rescue Falin.

Which ahh yes, his crush on Falin. I do think idealization plays into it, he doesn’t know Falin that well for sure, but it’s more complex than that too. Falin is pretty and can have an ethereal energy to her, she’s caring and gentle kinda motherly which Toshiro would find soothing I imagine, BUT MOST OF ALL. She’s weird!! She’s just weird enough to allow and be charmed by!! Shuro was fully shaped by his upbringing and environment of nobility, social etiquette and whatnot. Yeah she’s weird and quirky, but still quiet and sweet-mannered enough that he’s like "Yes, she wouldn’t bring shame on my family name". And why would he be charmed by her weirdness? Because all he’s ever known is rules!! Conformity, fitting in!! Unlike the others he knows, she is weird without being overbearing as well. "Woah she’s so different… She’s kind and soft and doesn’t care about fitting in… She is out of this world, she’s free, she shows me a world where tenderness and authenticity is possible…" She’s like his comfort character. MOREOVERRR I had totally forgotten about it, but Toshiro was shown watching a snail behind a bush and losing sight of everything else (like Maizuru calling him) as a kid in the Hag monster tidbit, the moment he fell in love with Falin it was when she looked enthralled at a caterpillar and he mentions how "most girls would have screamed or recoiled in disgust", and in the beach chibis page he’s crouching and collecting shells thinking about Falin… He likes bugs and crawly critters guys, he wishes he could be cottagecore too… It’s a genuine shared interest… . Someone pointed out that Toshiro & Falin’s relationship probaboy references this japanese folk tale, and I think that’s very interesting to note.

And Maizuru is like his mom but it’s a Thistle situation where they can’t just be a normal family and normal affectionate either- and when he learns about his father having a thing with her he feels weirded out. And like. Who knows how much he even got out of the mansion. He got homeschooled. He’s distant with his brothers. The family is in shambles

Shuro’s issue is that he was taught to be perfect and have the upmost respectable behavior, so if something annoys him he has to be righteous about it and that it’s the annoying thing’s fault or moral failing. Bro just let yourself be petty sometimes it’s healthier. With the feud with his father it’s explicitly stated that the pressure and expectations of the family name weigh on him a lot.

But then, that makes his beef with Laios so understandable doesn’t it. Not justified, but explained certainly.

Laios & Shuro and the whole mess coming to a head

I’ve made an analysis of the Laios-Shuro fight from Laios’ pov before, here. This is the Shuro pov analysis. Yes yes in The Fight, Shuro is dehydrated sleep-deprived and underate, he’s majorly off his rocker, BUT his frustration and the underlying issues are still things he felt on any day and it’s interesting to note.

Toshiro has been raised from his birth with the priority of propriety, nobility, etiquette, rules, conforming elegantly, appareances and reputation are everything. He’s modest, humble, quiet, stays in his lane and bottles all his feelings up. Wait who is this loud guy coming up to me being inconsiderate and loud af?? Does he not see me blinking in morse code that I’m not enjoying this and want him to leave?? Was he raised in a barn?? He’s overbearing and rude and way too friendly- He’s weird wtf! Not conforming to basic etiquette is illegal??! And people just… Let him do whateve he wants?? He lives well, no one stops him or kills him?? What the fuck, I’ve followed rules and etiquette thoroughly all my life, and it’s thankless work I get no recognition for, meanwhile he gets to be oblivious af and do whatever he wants without getting clapped?? Resentment, frustration, dislike, anger anger anger, jealousy.

Laios might even remind Toshuro of his dad in a way, because he SEEMS impulsive and like he does whatever he wants without a care to people around him, without thinking of how it might affect them. Doing things without thinking through the Implications. And interestingly this is a bit paralleled to to how Shuro is serious, strict, and big on the duties that come with having a leader role and the family dynamic it brings, like Laios’ own father, who Laios also dislikes… Dealing with his anger towards Laios, especially knowing that Laios doesn’t mean anything bad by it like Toshiro admits, is probably very healing to him. He stops repressing and thinks through his issues a bit, realizes what parts of his life he’s unhappy with and where all the negative feelings come from. I do think he bottles up his dislike for his father a bit, he has to at least for appearances. His beef with Laios is repackaged internalized anger for his father, but it’s ALSO repackaged frustration from his etiquette-bound lifestyle. He says it himself, when Laios is like "You never told Falin how you feel…? Alright, when I can I’ll tell her for you buddy!!", "that’s the part of you that I envy". Laios’ ability to just come out and say what he wants to, what he means. He wishes he could be free of all the rules more, that he had te courage to speak out, like with Inutade, or talking things out with Maizuru, or nit having to act like he’s not angry with his father. This narrative point of Toshiro envying Laios’ ability to say things freely and being frustrated by not being able to himself is ESPECIALLY examplified by their first interactions, the basis of their relationship: Laios enthusiastically befriending him, giving him a bad nickname and roping him into joining his party, with Toshiro never turning it all down despite wanting to, too hesitant to act possibly rude.

And now is time for the laishuro addendum… Because of personal experiences it’s a bit of a sensitive spot to me so while I see timelines in which I enjoy it I’m very picky… This is all further theorizing from me btw I’m not pushing my view here onto ppl as facts, but I think there’s more interesting bits and scenarios to bite into here. Laishuro has very cute and sweet potential. I personally don’t see the "Oh wait Laios is just girl Falin… 😳" angle because to me if anything that’d just make Shuro disillusioned with Falin lol, but like yes make Shuro learn that it’s ok to be weird with Laios 🥺 They DO have differences first of all, important ones, especially from Toshiro’s perspective. Laios is overwhelming, whereas Falin is soothing. Laios is loud and asks things of him where Falin is a calm, quiet presence. Laios pushes himself onto Toshiro, whereas Falin is content on just doing her own thing in her corner alone.

Hot take but the ultimate laishuro timeline is the one where he DOESN’T bring Laios back home, because he knows he’ll be seen as an oddity and clown by his father, and he doesn’t want Laios to be treated like the tapdancing monkey there to please and entertain his father the way he himself has always kind of been. Wouldn’t inflict that onto someone he loves. He can recognize when people are taken advantage of (mostly) like Inutade, and it doesn’t settle right with him. He might be especially sensitive to it in Inutade’s case because it’s about seeing his dad in a better light than he deserves, though. His father is his weak spot, THE weak spot.

It gets me so emotional thinking about it actually because seeing Laios played like a fiddle by his father, Laios so happy to find someone who’s enthusiastically listening to him ramble and engaging, would destroy Shuro emotionally I think. Like. On one hand being like "Oh of course my dad would find Laios fun, unlike me his boring son", super angry as coping mechanism for his intense sadness of not having positive parental attention, and then on the other he’d see Laios being treated as a clown and identify with it and that would remind him of how he gets treated similarly which he’s in denial about (more or less, but since he puts up with the family rules and follows along he hasn’t given up on getting recognition. He wants his father’s approval, and he couldn’t blame Laios for being happy with it despite how hurtful that attention truly is without Laios’ knowledge), which would be such an overwhelming conflicted mess of emotions and his worldview would shatter a bit because he has to repress it all even now, and he’d have a breakdown.

And similar deal but if he brought Falin home… Bc ok yes he idealizes her and doesn’t even know her all that well, but like I said imo what he sees in her is that "Woah she’s so different… She’s kind and soft and doesn’t care about fitting in… She is out of this world, she’s free, she shows me a world where tenderness and authenticity is possible…" So meanwhile with Laios he’d have mixed feelings on him getting treated like a clown and identify with it, bringing Falin home and having her be demeaned would be like having his perfect comfort character dunked on and he gets reminded that the world can’t have anything good actually. With both Toudens it’d make his resentment towards his father even worse, he might snap. I’m not the biggest on gendered analysis tbh but Kui evidently does like to do it to some degree, with the genderbending changing their life considerably and different fantasy cultures having different gender roles and all, but Shuro idealizing the Touden sister as something perfect he cannot attain while being jealous and frustrated at Laios for being something he cannot attain is like. So compelling actually. With Maizuru’s hannya of female rage weaponized there could be a theme of pushing the blame and responsibilities of things onto women too, the responsibility to raise and to manage and to dish out the work and to clean after mens’ reckless decisions. Anyways just a tangent.

Shuro on a bad family angst day is everything I love in a blorbo… He can be a lil shitty as a treat to make his healing arc more fulfilling. Toshiro snapping after he sees how they treat Laios/Falin and he gives up the family headship to LEAVE. Maizuru arc where she has to choose between loyalty to the clan and loyalty to Toshiro, will she stay with the boy she raised or go home… To me Maizuru is much less sympathetic than Shuro, but she is pretty tragic and her selfless love for Shuro is her one redeeming quality. Babygirl take no shit no more, but also better yourself and turn your life around please and thank you… She is so evidently taken advantage of but like. What else does she have? So she just takes care of and loves the boy she raised like her own kid and goes about her daily life in servitude and doesn’t think too much about it all.

Shuro is awful a nickname but also, I think Shiro would be a good nickname for Toshiro, because it gets rid of that ‘Toshi’ first part of his name that all the male members of his family share. It severes the link to his father and the tied pressure from his family.

Laishuro brotp turning slow burn romance would be so lovely. I think college au for laishuro would be peak actually… Shuro so is the repressed "I am so normal" guy who has a furry liberation identity crisis arc… I also quite like the potential he’d have with Namari, as both work-oriented misfit foreigners cast out of their homes, and she’s also bolder so it’d be good for him, and he could bring her stability… That’s a topic for another day tho. Even he and falin are sweet tbh, they could have traveled around together even if just as friends… Bc yeah she does value him as a friend at least somewhat, she says she’ll visit him~! Mostly I want Izutsumi-Toshiro brotp fancontent.

Conclusion

The household is very hierarchy oriented, and honestly the system doesn’t seem to make anyone happy, or at least not healthily so. Sighh feudalism.

Obviously their situation are very different, but still Toshiro and Izutsumi react to the same conflict in opposite ways: when a hierarchy and lifestyle of rules and duty is thrust upon them, Toshiro obeys and believes that it’s how things simply are, always having it been drilled into him since being a baby and being privileged enough to live ok with things as they are, meanwhile Izutsumi rages and eventually breaks free and never wants to submit herself to rules or hierarchy ever again, even if that perceived hierarchy is a mutually beneficial professional party dynamic or having a role inside a well-meaning team, like Laios’ party. WHICH IS WHY THEY SHOULD HANG OUT AND HAVE AN ARC TOGETHER. LET HER INFLUENCE HIM TO GET WILDER AND THINK OF HIMSELF MORE. FUCK INHERITING THE HEADSHIP. THE SIBLINGS NARRATIVE.

As always if I find more stuff to add i’ll edit it in. Rn I’m thinking that I’ll look into ninja & samurai feudal history and try to find specific terms that might fit their roles and situations more. I should reread try to cover Izutsumi’s end of the Toshiro-Izu dynamic as well.

I greatly recommend this paper for more excellent meta on all named Dunmeshi characters and their culture!

Ah yes yes, I forgot to talk about it but we don’t know what Toshiro’s retainers have been doing with their time on The Island, especially while he was dungeon diving with Laios and co. Although in the anime’s ed in this shot we see them "stealthily" follow him around, so presumably when he’s not in dungeons they’re tailing his moves.

Afterword here, it has summary charts about the power structure & relationships and complementary pages and artworks, couldn’t put them in here because SIGH 30 pictures per post limit.

[nozo-muu]

NEVER WAS THERE EVER A BOY SO PRETTY

Pairing: Matt Murdock X Male Reader X Frank Castle

Content: nsfw, implied established relationship, implied age gap?, oral, handjob

Author's note: Tumblr won't let me add "diet mountain dew" as a song so...

This is a 1000% self indulgent and ooc, but I don't really care, so enjoy...

The living room was filled with papers, empty glasses and cans scattered all over the floor of your apartment. The tension was palpable, the importance of this case weighted heavily on the three of you.

Matt was seated on a chair, deep in thought while Frank paced around murmuring to himself. You were seated on the floor flipping through the papers on the low table at the center of the living room.

"There must be something we're missing..." Matt whispered.

"We need more of those bastards to speak on what happened.” Frank cursed under his breath.

“Maybe if you hadn't killed them all, we wouldn't lack so much intel.” Matt objected.

Frank gritted his teeth.

“What are you insinuating, red?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

The punisher clenched his fist and was about to reply when you got up.

“Will you shut the fuck up already! If you're not going to be cooperative, you're free to leave. I'll be more productive without your bitching anyways.”

They both turned to look at you, walking towards the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Who do you think you're talking to, kid?” Frank yelled from the other room.

Getting out of the kitchen and walking into the living room towards your room, you glanced towards the other two.

“I'm not doing this today. You're free to go.”

Frank was about to take a step when he felt Matt's hand on his chest, stopping him with a murmur of his name.

“Calm down, Frank. I'll go talk to him.”

Matt approached your door and knocked lightly before getting inside. Once in your room, he could feel the essence of the familiar space. You were seated at your desk, doing something on your laptop.

You looked up at him. He could sense how you were feeling. Sad. That's the best way to put it. He took another chair and sat beside you.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Your tone is dry.

“Look, I know you don't like when Frank and I fight. I'm sorry for that.”

“Yet you don't seem to stop.”

The words hit him like a truck. You had a point. They were almost always bickering, even though they knew you didn't like it.

“That's how we are, that's what we are. And you know we don't actually mean harm to each other…”

Bullshit, you thought to yourself. But you didn't say anything…

Your lack of answer made him uneasy. He took your hand in his and gave it a light kiss. You glanced up at him. You scoffed at the absurdity of the action and your reaction made him smile.

The door slowly creeped open, and Frank came in. He looked at the two of you, smiling slightly. He got behind you and placed his hands on your arms, caressing them slowly.

“I'm sorry darling. Didn't mean to raise my voice at you like that.”

Matt glanced up at him, still smiling.

“And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start anything.” He interjected.

“It's okay, it's in the past now. Just don't let it happen again, you know I don't like when you guys fight.”

“No, no, no. We have to make it up to our pretty boy here.” Frank whispered.

“Seems fair… We've upset you, so we’ll make sure you're happy with us.”

You humm in contentment. Matt got on his knees in front of you while Frank continued to caress your arms.

“Is that so?” You asked in a sultry tone.

Matt had already started to unbutton your jeans while Frank took care of your shirt. He slowly took it off and he leaned down to give you a passionate kiss.

While this was happening, Matt didn't waste a second and got rid of your pants while he caressed your now exposed torso.

A low guttural moan left your lips, making Frank grin. Matt was now caressing your thighs and kissing your lower belly.

He slowly tugged at the hem of your boxers…

“Wow there cowboy, I'm not about to be the only one naked here.” You remarked.

Frank and Matt looked at eachother, and took of their shirts immediately. You smile at the sight.

“That's more like it.”

Matt continued getting your lower half undressed, exposing your member to the colder air of your room.

He started kissing the area while you and Frank continued making out.

Frank pulled away, lingering on your neck for a bit.

“Why don't we lay down…?”

“Attaboy.” Frank said.

Matt got up, starting to unbutton his own pants while you took care of Frank's, leaving them both in their boxers.

You laid down on your back, while they both kneeled in front of you. They started kissing, slightly rougher than they did with you… it was a sight for sore eyes.

You started stroking yourself, the two men in front of you still switching saliva with each other. The way their muscles clenched at each other’s touch was mesmerising.

Frank glanced at you and smirked. He loved having that effect on you. He slowly pulled away from Matt, and turned his attention to you. He started caressing your thighs while Matt climbed on the bed to kiss you.

God you loved it, the taste of his sweet lips on yours, caressing his toned body while he grinded mindlessly on you.

Meanwhile, Frank had started kissing closer and closer to your length, the sensation making you shiver in pleasure. He took you into his mouth and started swirling his tongue around your tip.

Funny to think he was this good given that he had only started sucking cock when he began hanging out with you.

He took you further into his mouth, going up and down repeatedly. Your low moans were being swallowed by Matt, who pulled away and started to kiss your neck leaving light red marks all over your collarbone and chest.

You were getting close, overwhelmed by the sensation, and you could feel Matt was hard as a rock. You pulled him aside and made Frank pull away, who was already stroking himself.

“How about we do THAT at the same time?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes gleamed with excitement at your proposal, so he got up and crawled on top of you and kissed you before rolling to the side to lay beside you, propped on the headboard. Matt did the same once he removed his boxers.

Seeming as they couldn't keep their hands to themselves, they started caressing your body and Frank started stroking your length while you kissed Matt.

You weren't any better than them, and the lust consuming your mind, you grabbed their members, already leaking with precum, and started moving your fists up and down.

The sensation was electric. Frank's mouth approached your neck, his grunts being drowned by the flesh of your neck while he left marks in the surrounding area.

You were nearing climax, and so were they. With a final groan from Frank, he came, and while you turned to kiss him, Matt and you did too.

You three laid there for a while, worn out. After a while, you kissed both of them before getting up and going to your bathroom for a towel. You came back and cleaned up before laying between them again.

Frank placed his head on your chest and Matt hugged you from the side. You rested quietly for a while before Frank spoke.

“Is our pretty boy happy?”

“You bet.”

[scarlettoceaneyes]

could we get come paul angst?

where he loses his temper about something small like dropping something and reader comforts him and is all “it’s okay, it was just an accident” and mans is a messss because he grew up around short tempered people and doesn’t want to be like them.

Ouuu but such a sweetheart under it all! Who doesn’t love Paul!

Valuable

You heard it and cringed. The small break of a glass that was not important, but Paul made it that way. He was trying everything to make you happy after getting married, but he often got confused that happiness doesn’t come with perfection alone. You explained often that a glass can be replaced, much like other material things that doesnt master. He often worried he would make you leave if he did the wrong thing. 

Sure, he has temper and anger issues. You knew that going in. It was really the way he was raised where his dad would lose his temper over something small the same way. Egg shells were constantly being crushed under Paul's feet in his childhood home. You tried to make him see life isn’t like that, or it doesn’t have to be. You did understand how he felt, like he would push you too far by accident just like his dad. You promised yourself to try and never prove that you felt like that to Paul- this relationship didn’t center around fear but love. 

The string of strong language came next. You felt the personal disappointment he felt through the bond. It didn’t matter how many times it happened and you comforted him, he couldn’t fight off the demons in his mind for long. Part of the reason you still helped was to teach him he doesn’t have to wait for the honeymoon period to be over for reality to set in, but that if you love each other then it should be a realistic ideal to always have good times. You both fight at times and bicker, but you make it a point to talk with him instead of letting things fester. So you did.

“Paul baby it's okay! It was an accident. It's a cheap glass out of a set I got years ago. All materials things can be replaced ok? Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Paul let you wrap your arms around him while he cleaned the glass out of the sink. 

“I should be more careful. I know to be.” Your frown was felt through his back, only making his self esteem take another blow. 

“These things would break if it was the pack, me, you, our kids one day, or I lost grip and dropped it. We could even have teenagers years to come who can break every piece of wedding china and it wouldn’t matter because it would be an accident. Just like this was. You are not your father Paul and he should’ve never treated your family like that. You are already a better man than he could dream to be because you never are rough with me. I love you and I can feel how you feel. Your brain isn’t telling you the truth. You are my angel on earth who is selling himself too short.” Paul finally shows a flicker of hearing you as you call him your favorite saying. He knew you thought of him as your angel, even if he disagreed it still healed him a little bit at a time. 

About this time the tears came for Paul, followed by yours. You didn’t mind because he was healing. His outburst were getting easier to get through and they no longer kept him up at night. One night he shared his dream was to be able to be a healthy father one day. Your unshed tears pooled behind your smiling eyes. You felt his commitment through the bond. He owed it to you just as much as himself when he was able to heal. 

“You’re right it’s not important.” Paul seemed to snap out of it and pull you around to face him. Hugging you and kissing your tears away, he gave you the ending line that always concluded these moments. You were happy to see it come within five minutes this time. You were so proud of how much he is healing for you both and your future family. “Thank you babe, I love you so much. The best wife a man could have.”

[maxiine]

Start of something new

Bakugoxreader F/reader in mind

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The time was 7:20pm

The agency was set to close in 40 minutes but you were on night watch tonight. You sat mindlessly atop the building keeping an eye on the city below. Your quirk gave your senses enhancements so to say you could hear, see and smell a crime from above was not an understatement. The rest of your colleagues and most of the pros in the surrounding cities had requested this special night off to celebrate the congratulated no.2 pro hero shotou. Of course the reason was not stated to the public but you may have overheard your boss talking. However you were happy to be the honored sidekick to be left in charge while everyone was away, it wasn’t often you were given hefty or important jobs but tonight was your chance to prove how useful you can continue to be to everyone.

You even took some time out of your lunch earlier to cover some paper work that the oh so great dynamite hated doing.

You had seen a multitude of social media posts from the group dinner. All you could do was smile at how wholesome and happy every one seemed. I mean it’s not everyday you can catch up with the ones you grew up with so you were happy they could all meet up again- all of them together. You’d often over hear Bakugo speaking with Kirishima or even Midorya about how they wanted to see everyone again, it had been awhile. You’d also see how brooding bakugo would become when he hadn’t seen any updates about his friends in the polls. He was just a nosey but caring guy.

To be completely honest, you had grown completely fond of him. Not just as a boss or in the way he ran things; but in the way that he spoke to civilians and kids who had gotten hurt. Or his bluntness towards ridiculous reporters trying to fish for info; maybe even in the way he would smile and laugh when he was out on the field with some of his closest friends. There was so many things, big and small, that fed into this thought of how grateful you were to work here.. with him.

You couldn’t get overly carried away though, you still had a lot to learn. So much room to grow. And thinking of your boss in not so professional ways was not going to help aid that goal.

*ding*

Your phone had vibrated in your pocket and dinged. A notification.

You reached into your back pocket while trying to still keep an eye out on the streets below, the time was 7:45, meaning you had a bit left before you were assigned to street patrol. You took that thought and decided it wouldn’t hurt to see the noti.

*✔️k.dynamite posted to their story*

You assumed he was posting more of the dinner party, and as nosey as you accused him of being, you weren’t much better. You click his circle icon on instagram and are immediately met with shotou, midorya, and himself taking a group photo. Shotou is wearing a sweet bright smile and of course midorya is following up with the same cuteness. But bakugo is wearing a smug grin, his sharp canines making an appearance. In small texts he wrote “congrats icy hot”, a nickname you heard he gave him way back in high-school. You hadn’t noticed the smile you had on your face as you went to heart the story post. But before you could ponder any longer- you put your phone back and gather yourself to head down to start patrol.

_____________________________________________

11:20

It was well late into the night now. Almost time to head back to the agency where Soon the over night patrol would be in to relieve you of your shift. The night wasn’t very active which was surprising to say the least. Some bar fights and kids messing around was all you had run into. Oh and one guy trying to break into a car but you got him handled nicely and escorted to the police. Now you were just walking back. Your hero suit made it difficult to find warmth in cold nights like these. Especially where you weren’t doing much, so you were left to be chilly. You held your self tight, mumbling small tasks you needed to do once you got back. Gotta finish the paper work, check in with the reports, clock out, clean the front, then leave to hopefully get some dinner. It may have seemed like alot but you’d most likely be home by 2 am which is actually earlier than you’d usual be out. You were a chronic over worker, but most sidekicks were; money won’t make it self right?

Finally you had made it back and had already begun your trot to your office (which was really an empty table in the meeting room.) you had worked through most of bakugo reports before you decided to start on your own.

—————————————————————————

Katsuki’s pov-

Katsuki was gripping his steering wheel pretty tightly on his way back. Dinner was great, and his talk with midorya? Well not so great but he was happy to help him do something he had put off for so long. Kirishima being the bestie that he is, couldn’t let him live it down so he begrudgingly teased him all the way back. Despite all of that, he had a pretty good night. However he still had his own goals and priorities and thinking about what work he has left for him was driving him insane. He wouldn’t be able to sleep easy unless he had it done or at least a head-start.

With ease he drives himself to his agency. It was 1:26 am and he was set for work at 7am but that didn’t matter. He probably could just stay up and shower there if he really needed to. The street lights shower a soft glow on to his face as he wears a concerned expression. Not intentionally but no one was around anyway, so he didn’t mind. He was anxious . Not just about his agency or the left over reports he didn’t finish. But.. about you. He had made sure not to put too much stress on you so leaving you to be in charge while he was away was enough to have this man run back immediately. It’s not that he didn’t trust you. He just wanted you to be safe, and he would feel much better if he was around to insure that. He couldn’t exactly remember when he started to feel that way. It could have been as soon as you were recruited but he wasn’t going to waste his time thinking of trivial things.

He arrived back. Walking from his sleek black car to the entrance and he couldn’t help but feel strange. He walked in after placing scanning his badge at the door, allowing him personal access through security. Once he was in, he noticed your badge placed on the front desk where the secretary would be. He felt panic, why were you still here? Were you even here or did something happen to you? Did you forget your badge but then how would you have left? He quickly assessed the situation, and the only way your badge would still be here is if YOU were still in this building. With that thought he quickly marched his way towards your work area while also quickly checking every other room. He couldn’t believe you were still here. Over working your self like damn usual.

He finally saw your hunched figure, you seemed to be resting your head? No maybe looking at something? All his thoughts stopped as he heard your soft snoring and slow breathing. You were asleep. You were safe and sound sleeping in HIS agency. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a heavy sigh, thankful and worry free to see you. He walked over, and noticed you had completed his paper work while also checking yours.

“Tsk. Idiot” he mumbles to himself softly, trying not to wake you. He carefully grabs the papers and files from under you and Gently places them else where. After much thought, he decided on waking you up so you could get some sleep in the rest area or at least let him take you home. However, with every nudge and poke, you weren’t even stirring in the slightest. He couldn’t find the heart to try any further. So while it wasn’t the best idea, he pulled back your chair and carefully picked you up. Taking you back to his office where he has a couch. He would put anyone else on the coaches at the front or even on one the cots stored away. But he knew his couch was the comfiest as he had spent many nights there himself, you deserved some comfortable rest.

He placed you down gently, then covering you with one of his blankets stored away. It wasn’t big nor was it the best quality but it would do the job. With a sigh he decided to let you sleep while he finished up your reports since you’ve done all of his. Yours would probably be much easier anyway since you were just a rookie sidekick.

—————————————————————————

He continued to type and write away, giving a soft melody to the air.

you could’ve slept for awhile longer if your senses hadn’t woke you up.

Shit! You thought to yourself, you fell asleep. But you were so warm, and your back fell on something soft.. weird.

You opened your eyes and understood now, you were lying on a couch. But who’s-

“You up now?” A grumbled voice speaks to you from behind a desk.

And it was none other than bakugo himself.

You quickly shot up fixing your hair and rubbing your eyes, trying to regain any sort of composure possible in this moment.

“Dynamite sir, I’m so sorry!”

“ idiot. Listen don’t apologize, you had a long night so just” he pauses for a moment and looks up at you. “Go home and get some rest.”

“But sir- I haven’t finished my reports.” You got up to gather your files.

“I already did them. You’re fine now go. And I’m taking you off of patrol tonight, so no excuses.” He said in his usual bossy tone.

“Wait why? I can still work or is this a punishment? I’m really sorry- I.. wait what do you mean by excuses?” You stammer over your words before questioning the blonde.

“You have no excuse not to comeback 100%. I’m giving you the day off so shut up and please just go.” It was way too damn early to be dealing with all of your questions let alone trying to get you to go home and take care of yourself. You were stressing this poor man out.

“Oh. I see, well um” you put your hand behind your head nervously before finally deciding it’s better to actually just go.

“Thank you for letting me sleep here. I promise it won’t happen again.” You tend to make false promises, especially when it came to your overworking habits.

“You better mean that, or I’ll kick your ass. Got it?” He barks at you. Only because he cares so much. He wanted you to care too.

“Got it.” You chuckles softly and you couldn’t help but hope to actually keep this promise. You share a small moment of contact with the blonde. His red eyes staring right into you, as if reading your mind. You shake the feeling and turn to head out.

“Have a good day then dynamite.” You begin to head out.

“Just call me katsuki. When we’re off duty.” He says casually but the small tint of pink on his cheeks tells you he was nervous to say that.

Alright then

“I’ll see you later. Katsuki.” You say his name softly, almost like a whisper before finally leaving for the day.

The time was 6:45am and you were getting ready for bed in your own home. You knew you’d be falling asleep thinking of him. Not the pro hero dynamite, but Katsuki Bakugou. The off duty hero who has your heart in a choke hold.

It has been so long since I’ve written for Bakugo, but I’ve never posted him on here so :) glad I finally did. He’s my fav so maybe I’ll post more of him <3

Also! I’m sorry I get lost in detail and back-round >.< I’ll work on it

[littlcdarlin]

Dad!Joel headcanons (Jackson)

warnings: big age gap (unspecified), reader calls Joel Daddy (as in he’s her baby daddy), pregnancy, mention of labour, afab!reader, in my mind Joel has a breeding kink but it’s not explicitly mentioned

note: for the person who requested this <3 hope it lives up to your expectations! For my own sanity, Sarah never existed in this. I cannot handle Joel having another kid after losing her, and I don’t think I will ever write that tbh. Also, the picture in the middle made me cry.

When you tell Joel you think you’re pregnant he doesn’t believe it for a full five minutes (which you find amusing after how hard he tried to accomplish just that) — then he cries

He worries a lot during your pregnancy and babyproofs the house best as he can, using materials Tommy & Maria can spare

One thing he loves about your pregnancy is that whenever you have sex, he doesn't have to pull out, and he makes good use of that newfound freedom

He builds a cradle by himself, surprising you one evening with a set-up nursery: he painted the walls while you were on greenhouse duty with some paint Maria gave him, and even found some cushions to put into the cradle

When you get insecure about the way your body changes, he lets you know how beautiful you are to him, regardless of size or skin condition or anything else

When you start to show people start whispering because of your difference in age, but he brushes them off, so proud to be your baby daddy

He holds your hand the entire time you're in labour, and you squeeze so hard you bruise his bones – the midwife says his fingers might be broken, but he doesn't pay her any mind, not when your baby is almost here

When your little girl is born, Joel is terrified of holding her small body, afraid he'll drop or hurt her somehow, but you reassure him he can do it, and when he does, her tiny body fits into his arms perfectly

You've never seen him cry so much as during the first couple of weeks – a yawn, or sigh, or blink from your daughter will do it, tears streaming down his cheeks

He asks Tommy to be Godfather, and after he accepts, any past fights are forgotten and they start spending more time together

As your daughter gets older, Joel and her bond over all sorts of things. She's fascinated with bugs, so he takes her "bug hunting": they try and find as many insects as they can, Joel drawing small pictures of them into a notebook, while she observes their behavior. By the time she's seven, she's got her own bug lexicon

Sometimes you and Joel disagree on certain rules or privileges for your daughter: you figure self defense is an important skill, but Joel doesn't want her to touch a weapon, ever. In the end you settle on teaching her combat

When you see the pride in Joel's eyes whenever he looks at your daughter, you jokingly call him Daddy – that night he fucks you so deep you think you're having ten more babies just from that

You're adamant about teaching your kids a healthy perception of gender-roles, and you know the age difference between Joel and you sometimes results in traditional roles. Joel agrees with you and asks Maria to get a day a week off of patrols to do household chores, etc.

While your daughter is little, you're allowed to stay home with her, but as soon as she starts classes in the little makeshift school in Jackson, you start working again – sometimes in the greenhouses, sometimes on patrols, and sometimes in the kitchens

Joel and you never go on patrol together – partly because someone has to watch your kid, and partly because of how dangerous it is outside of Jackson. You want to make sure if something happens to either of you on patrol, she still has a parent left

Tommy and Maria take her one night a week so that you and Joel can have some time to yourselves – between clickers, kitchen shifts and raising a kid, romance tends to fall a little short

Some nights you have dinner in your house and cuddle up on the couch together, finally having a whole evening to talk to each other and enjoy each other's presence, and often Joel sneaks you a little surprise treat, like a peace of chocolate, a flower he found on patrol, etc.

Most weeks your free night results in sex – before you had a kid he fucked you almost every morning and night, but there's less time for that now. In the beginning you miss it a lot, but you quickly learn to appreciate the built up, week-long tension: Joel is insatiable, using your precious hours to find as many ways of making you come as he can. It's worth even Tommy's knowing grin in the morning, when both of you have to stifle your yawns

When your daughter is old enough to want to play with toys, Joel starts carving wooden animals for her. He's more handy than you realized, the little toys have lots of character, and Joel's face always lights up when he watches your daughter name them

He loves singing her to sleep, his deep honeyed voice perfect for soft lullabies, and you often catch him making up sweet texts to familiar melodies

You know he wants more children, but he doesn’t press it, not wanting to rush you into the decision. Sooner than you thought you start to miss being pregnant and the magical time after giving birth. You know you’re one of the only people in the world able to have children in safety, and every day you watch your girl grow up healthy and happy you’re thankful for it

When you tell Joel you want another one during one of your date nights, he’s over the moon and makes love to you as often as he can “to make sure it takes the first time ‘round”. By the time he’s done with you, you’re an exhausted, happy, dripping mess

It does take — when you tell Joel your period is late a short while after that night, he swoops you up in his arms and the three of you celebrate as a family that evening, Joel cooking dinner instead of going to the dining hall

[astrobolical]

I’ve taken a deeper dive into DC comics recently, and I have something I gotta say.

Guy Gardner just needs a chance to escape his past.

While his bowlcut and joke-character era are important, they were filled with throwaway c-rank hero antics and writers who, lets face it, didn’t like him. But he’s not as bad as people think when they hear the name Guy Gardner. He’s more than just that lantern Batman knocked out with one punch (which was deserved, but still).

The more I read about him or things he’s included in, especially more recent media, I’m awestruck that he doesn’t get at least a little more love.

So here are the reasons I think Guy Gardner is better than you think he is.

Upbringing

“I never took a punch that hurt as bad as any he gave me.”

Guy didn’t have it easy growing up. His father was an abusive alcoholic who berated and beat him daily for nothing, just because he was there, because he was “thick headed.” But despite everything he went through and the horrible upbringing he had to endure, Guy didn’t fall into the same cycle as his father did. Yeah, he has a bad attitude, he’s pretty cocky and he hides behind that bravado, but he never turned to villainy.

He became a social worker in older media, working to help people who are in his situation to escape it, like I’m sure he wished someone would have helped him. In more recent media it has been retconned that he’s a cop, which I like less, but he’s still a good one. He goes out of his way to help people and make their lives better, as best he can. No one walks away from that sort of history unscathed, so his aggressive persona is no surprise. But he’s a Green Lantern, and a hero despite it all.

Willpower & Strength

Just to begin with the fight pictured above, Guy took on that Yellow Lantern without his ring and nearly died, but he won. He has some of the strongest willpower there is, and the sheer bravado to back it up. His fellow Lanterns, mostly, know that while he’s problematic that he will get the job he’s given done. And if they don’t right away, they’ll soon learn it.

Guy very easily could have been who the ring went to over Hal, if it weren’t for Booster Gold’s time stream shenanigans causing him to be further than Hal was from the ring (which was how it was supposed to be, Booster was making sure things stayed how they were meant to). That’s all it came down to. Distance. He was also a candidate for John’s ring, but if I recall he was helping someone and lost out again.

And his creativity with his constructs and how quickly he can work with it is astounding.

(More on this topic also in Intelligence below)

Devotion & Reliabiltiy

“C’mon kid… can’t d-do this without you.”

Believe it or not, he’s a reliable partner both work-wise and in romance. He’s trusted to mentor new Lanterns, and is a high ranking Lantern himself for a reason. He’s rough around the edges, a little too forward, blunt and a tiny bit horny (…okay very horny) but all of that goes out the window when someone is in danger.

He cares for others despite how his persona may make it seem. He listens more than people think, and he understands others more than he lets on. A good example of this is actually in a silly comic about superhero dating. While he was showboating and being a bit of an arse, he retained every single thing she told him. (And for context, she was using him for an article about how BAD it would be to date a superhero— specifically him. Rude much?)

“Nothing’s gonna stop me from being at your side if you need someone or something.”

And to his partners he does show great care and love for them, even if he’d rather be seen as the tough guy.

So, yeah, despite it all there’s someone with a very large heart behind his attitude. He’s bold, he’s loud and far too confident, but you also know he’s someone you can turn to.

Intelligence

“I figured out the receptors in my brain I need to stimulate.”

This is one of the bigger points for me, because as much as he fucks around this man is incredibly intelligent. He’s been shown to deep dive into research, study and learn whenever he needs to. So much so his entire room was at one point a terrible mess.

But even more so this man was able to save himself from dying after being cut in half. I debated putting his in Willpower, but it’s more a testament to his quick thinking and knack for learning.

He was able to use his ring to recreate his lower body, which included all organs which functioned to keep him alive. Eventually he even perfected it enough so that it would take less effort to maintain. Then to stop himself from ever having to sleep (and his lower body subsequently disappearing and killing him) he figured out how to stimulate his brain with his power ring to release the chemicals he needed without actually having to sleep. He would have needed to figure this out within a day or two at most while dealing with the severe trauma he would have experienced.

So few people would have had the wherewithal to even save themselves to begin with, let alone trick your brain in such a way so quickly. And accurately.

And there’s so much more to his character than the shit end of the stick he was originally given. That’s not to say he isn’t an arrogant little bastard, but when people hear “Guy Gardner” they laugh, without realizing how much his character has evolved.

He’s able to be his bratty self, sing songs about his ass, showboat and still be a good person while maintaining that humour.

So yeah, I think more people need to give Guy Gardner a chance.

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson x cheerleader! reader, what if they have been dating for 4 months, and Eddie is still getting adjusted to being with one of the most popular girls in highschool, so when he sees Steve at his girlfriend's house in her bedroom he loses it, he gets really angry at her bc he thought she was cheating on him or something, but Reader and Steve were just working together on some important project and due to that, they needed to spend time together. But Eddie didn't knew that, so he starts to ignore reader, stops giving her ride stop home, so Y/N goes to the trailer park to tell Eddie what's really going on, but Eddie doesn't seems interested in that, but reader convinces him to talk to her and she tells him about the project and Eddie realizes he's been acting like an idiot, but reader forgives him because he's her bf?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting this angst but happy ending fic 🫶🏻

Project?

Eddie knew dating one of the most popular girls in school was going to come with a lot of adjustments. He was at the very bottom of the social class, and now skyrocketed to the top in a flash.

He still couldn't believe he got Y/N to go out with him. She was a preppy cheerleader with a bright smile and an aura that everyone fell in love with. She had Eddie falling over his sneakers within seconds of smelling her perfume and the way her sweet voice said his name. He was shocked she knew who he was and gave him the time of the day.

Somehow throughout all the talking and flirting, they kissed and a relationship surfaced.

Four months passed and their relationship grew stronger by the day. Eddie has never felt more in love with someone, but also never felt more insecure within himself. He knew people adored his girlfriend and that many boys wished to be in his spot. If they were in the lower class like Eddie, he knew he already had one up on them. But the popular kids? He didn't have anything on them.

~~~

Eddie kept his jealousy to himself to not cause any fights or difficult discussions. But he was always so close to blowing at the seams.

"Hey Eds?" Y/N asked, she figured now was a horrible time to try to talk to him as he prepared for his campaign. It started in only ten minutes but she had a last minute plan she wanted him to be aware of.

"hm?" He mumbled, truthfully he wasn't listening. He heard his name and made a sound. His brain was too focused on the campaign ahead.

"Steve is coming over for a theater project. We have to do this love story. And I wanted to make sure you knew that it was strictly for class." She said, her stomach in nervous knots.

"All good. See you after!" He said, turning around to peck her lips before he went back to the campaign.

Well that went way better than she thought.

~~~

Eddie looked at his watch as he used the spare key to walk into Y/N's house. He knew her parents were away on vacation so he didn't have to worry about coming in unannounced.

He hummed a song in his head as he skipped up the stairs. Excitement in his bones to tell his girlfriend all about the campaign and its progress.

"...and when I look at you, I see the most beautiful girl in the world."

Eddie froze as he heard the sound of a male voice coming from his girlfriend's bedroom. The door was wide open and Eddie felt like he wanted to puke at the way Steve Harrington was holding his girlfriend's face in his hands. His heart broke more and more as she leaned into it and not away from it. They sat close on her bed, too cuddled for his liking.

"Are you saying you are in love with me?" She whispered, her eyes skimmed up and down Steve's face.

"Always have been." Steve whispered back, Eddie wasn't sure if they were about to kiss but he wasn't going to stand and watch.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Eddie screamed, within seconds he yanked Steve off the bed and threw him to the floor.

"WOAH DUDE!" Steve yelled, fright in his eyes.

"EDDIE! STOP!" Y/N screamed, she went to yank Eddie off but he refused to budge. He had Steve pinned to the floor, his fist aiming for his jaw.

"HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" Y/N screamed, grabbing Eddie as strongly as she could and shoved him off.

Eddie fell to the floor next to Steve, trying to ignore the sting he felt when she checked on Steve.

Eddie jumped up, anger in his body as a piercing noise rang through his ears.

"let me explain," Y/N sighed, she stood up calmly and that hit Eddie wrong. Why was she so chill about this? Why wasn't she crying and begging for forgiveness?

"I think I saw all that I needed to see. Enjoy Harrington, we are done." He sneered, he practically ran out of the room. She was quick to yell after him but he refused to stop. She followed him all the way out of the driveway, watching his van speed off at a law breaking speed.

~~~

A few days passed and Y/N couldn't get Eddie to speak one word to her. She called and called. She tried to talk to him in the halls but he'd walk away. She tried at lunch during a deal but he got up and left. He even stopped driving her home. She could have gotten a ride from Steve, but she knew that would make the situation worse. So she was stuck walking home.

The rain poured down as she walked out of the school building. No warning on the radar so she didn't have any good clothes or an umbrella. She growled to herself as she began to walk down the stairs.

Just great, she thought. Her boyfriend? Ex boyfriend? Was ignoring her, and it tore her apart. And now she had to walk home in the soaking rain.

She thought for a second, the trailer park was way closer than her house. She knew Eddie didn't want to see her, but maybe it was time she forced the boy to listen to her.

She walked through the mud of the trailer park and landed at Eddie's door. She knocked a few times, but stayed close to the door.

Eddie opened the door with a snarl but it lightly faded when he saw her shivering and holding herself warm.

"what in the hell are you doing?" He asked, slight concern in his voice. She allowed him to pull her inside.

"I'm here to talk to you!" She huffed, she removed her wet shoes and cringed at the wet clothes she was stuck in.

"in the rain?" He questioned.

"Look! Your house is way closer to school than mine and I didn't want to walk all the way home. Plus we needed to talk."

"Why didn't hairy boy Steve drive you?" Eddie said as he rolled his eyes.

"Because I knew that would hurt you, even if you have the wrong idea of what you saw, I wouldn't shove that in your face." She explained.

Eddie felt his hard shell slowly breaking. She chose to walk through the pouring rain to talk to him, and she chose to walk instead of asking Steve for a ride because she knew it would hurt him.

"I don't think I got the wrong idea!" Eddie scoffed, he turned around to march into his room.

Y/N quickly followed, "YOU CAN'T IGNORE ME!" she yelled after him. She figured he was going to slam his bedroom door after him, but he didn't.

Instead he grabbed a clean shirt and boxers from his laundry basket. All folded nicely so she knew Wayne recently did wash.

"Put these on so you don't catch a cold." He demanded. She thanked him and began to strip off her clothes. Eddie wasn't sure if it was his place to look or not, but he couldn't help himself. He'd admire her every day if he could.

"You do have the wrong idea, Steve and I were working on a project." She explained as she slipped Eddie's shirt over her bare chest.

"Is that slang for cheating?" Eddie scoffed. Y/N rolled her eyes and slipped on the boxers next. Throwing her soaked clothes on the floor.

"No, you idiot. It means we were working on a theater project, one that I told you about and even said it would be a romance. But apparently you chose not to listen." She defended herself, her arms crossed as she glared at him.

His defence was starting to break apart. He searched his brain for more questions.

"When? Because I don't recall such thing."

"Right before your campaign. You nodded along and kissed me goodbye. The same night you almost killed Steve." She explained.

"Oh really?"

"really!"

"oh really?"

"Really, Eddie."

"Well....I completely forgot about that." He said as he admitted defeat. He kinda remembered hearing her voice and the sound of Steve's name but nothing in between. He sat on his bed and hung his head in shame.

"We were acting. There's no one else. I love you. And even after you being a complete idiot." She said softly as she kneeled in front of him. She looked at his puppy eyes and softly kissed his cheek.

"Fuck, I'm sorry for losing my control like that. I'm sorry for not giving you a chance to explain. And I'm so sorry for not listening to you when you already explained everything to me. I acted like a dick." Eddie said, he truly felt guilty and embarrassed for how easy it all could have been avoided if he listened in the first place.

"I understand the fear and anger you had upon seeing what you did. But it's way better to communicate with me so we can fix it, yeah?"

"Definitely. If I ever see Steve making moves, I'll question before killing him." Eddie joked, he felt his stomach flip as she laughed into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

"Gee, thanks." She laughed.

"I love you too. Thank you for not giving up on me." He said into her hair.

He was granted a blessing, and he vowed to never ruin it.

Tags!

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