#a bunch of people on that city loved and cared for each other but that didn’t stop the events that’d make them leave

[lockandkeyblade]

First Rule of Ghost Fight Club

Hey look ma, there's a multichapter now!

Several months ago the GiW, flush off the success of having the Anti-Ecto Acts passed– even if they had to hide it beneath several hundred adjustments to agricultural and infrastructure legislation– made a mistake.

Their little campaign of hatred was going well, maybe too well– so why not make it public? Why not grasp for a little more power, incite some torch and pitchforks? There were a dozen roads the stupid bastards could've taken, but they wanted the shortcut. The highway.

They decided that their next campaign against the ghosts would be to release several videos highlighting the utter destruction left in the wake of their fights. Show America there was something worth fighting on their hometurf. Make them angry. Make them vicious.

Jason figures they’d expected some backlash for it. There would've been a PR guy, or ten, or twenty, paid the big bucks just to sit around and consider it all. He'd interrupted enough board room meetings in his youth past life that he's got a pretty damn good idea of what to visualize; a bunch of white guys, forty plus, sitting around and deciding how people they did not know, understand, or give two fucks about were likely to receive this kind of news.

Ghosts were real, and terrible. The slogans were equally as bad, of course. And that wasn't on the PR team- that was on whatever dead-eyed millennial got paid way too little to give a fuck. Grandma can't cook you pies like she used to- she's too busy eating your soul. Little Timmy who fell down the well has taken one too many pointers from Samara Morgan. That kinda shit.

Someone was still gonna care about 'em. Someone was gonna call this inhumane. Someone would look into that Act and realize ghosts; talking, once-living people (some of 'em), had less rights than the average lab rat. Someone would start a protest.

The GiW would've thought about that and prepared for it. They must've felt invincible enough to chance it anyway, because they started uploading their 'documentaries' on the barbarity of ghosts online. Probably stroking their cliché ass moustaches and puffing cheap cigars all the while.

The fuckers would've expected all that. What they didn't expect, when blasting the world with their little softcore snuff vids, was how into it the world became.

Ghost fights? Were fucking badass.

And now the whole world knows it.

Gotham, especially, knows it. Gotham loves it. This was the kind of thing that was made to take over the nightlife of an already unhinged city; sports bars replacing football with the newest renditions of that one robot dude smacking down a couple of buildings, taking bets on what was gonna get him first– Danger Twink, Little Red Flying Hood, Morally Ambiguous Scientists, or The Man.

Proper names for each entity- and every other painfully stereotypical character involved- were hard to come by, initially. Most of those founding videos had the sound swapped out for the screams of children, flat voiceovers of scientists reminding the people that ghosts don't feel, so don't feel for them.

The bars played 'em on mute and blasted their own tunes over the top. Others had their own live MCs to commentate on the action. Robot dude got the name Gadget Goatee, the sweetass punk rock girl was On Fleek. The ghost seemingly addicted to boxes was Box Ghost. Names like that. When camera crews of reputable (and not so reputable) sports channels started sneaking into Amity Park, some names got adjusted. Some didn't.

The day pre-fight interviews began to happen was the day Jason seriously started considering why the Justice League hadn't gotten involved yet, enough to ease that question into conversation with Dickiebird. To sate his curiosity, no other reason. Turns out, Danger Twink had asked them not to. And the Justice League, full of some of the most anal and controlling people Jason has ever had the misfortune to meet, had listened to him. The petition signed by almost the entirety of Amity Park's population had probably helped.

Apparently, the city didn't want or need help. On the fighting front, at least. Nightwing is as in the dark for what, precisely, had been shared about why that was, but it was enough for Batman to raise the requirements for permission to be obtained by any hero wanting to go into Amity Park’s space– and for the rest of the founding members to approve them. 

JL's continued efforts to flatten the GiW and their miserable Anti-Ecto Acts had been cheerfully encouraged. Everything else, though? That was Danger Twink's problem. Or Phantom's joy, if you asked Jason's opinion on the matter. Not that anyone did.

The reality these days was that the government agency, high off their own fumes- as they often were- managed to fuck themselves right out of existence. And the ghosts? The ghost fights?

They were there to stay. Impressively contained within Amity Park with a startling level of confidence and control, all thanks to one girl on a hoverboard and a dead guy.

Place was even considered a chill place to visit, contrary to the continually televised property damage. The fights continued to maintain a level of popularity that was almost feverish, stealing their way into primetime television, spawning a couple dozen streaming services that would inevitably cannibalise themselves.

Oh, Jason could see the appeal of those fights. Hell, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d join ‘em. Sure, most of Gotham was into it for the more obvious reasons. Vicious mauling and extensive infrastructure repair that wasn't their problem, for once. Something new to bet on, some cool people (dead, alive, or never alive in the first place) to throw merchandise around for. The phenomenal amount of simping, the utterly batshit rule 34 that could be found online. A few ghost themed cocktails. All that good shit.

Jason just liked the sound.

He hadn't gotten into the videos until he could hear 'em, the ghosts themselves. It was something he kept to himself, seeing as- hey, no one else was mentioning it. His family was likely to think him insane again, so that was another deterrent. Nah, let folks think Red Hood enjoyed having that shit on in the background for...inspiration. Of the this might happen to the next person who crosses me variety.

But nah. He just, liked the sound.

It was like a secret concert, just for him. Some of those fights might as well be fucking operas. Full on musicals with a bit more green blood to 'em. Every ghost sang in a way Jason couldn't describe. There was a vibrato to it all, otherworldly and entrancing. A resonance that seemed to sink past his skin, right down to his soul.

They sing about obsession. They talk about what matters most to them, the parts of their unlife that are their beating hearts, their drive, their love. Every fight is an illicit fantasy, an almost embarrassing revelation of the people beneath the caricatures– Gotham sees neat fights, and Jason hears souls. 

It was simultaneously off-putting and addictive.

And fuck him sideways, but sometimes? The songs were kind of cute.

Especially the ones for Danger Twink. Most of the songs were for Danger Twink. Phantom, as he kept trying to tell the media, over and over again. The kid barely looked legal, though it was hard to tell when he was, y'know, six feet under. Brat could be 

Bruce's great grandpa several times over, for all he knew.

But he wasn't, if the songs were anything to go by. As far as the ghosts were concerned, this implied to be twenty year-old was, in ghost terms, baby. He was baby.

All the other ghosts knew it. All the other ghosts adored it. A solid fifty percent of the songs Jason could hear, day in, day out, were basically gooshy renditions of look at our small king. Our light. He has grown so much.

That Phantom’s response is usually the equivalent of mom please, you’re embarrassing me, as he makes a crater out of the earth with his opponent? Classic.

In a way, this whole shebang the world was addicted to was just a community trying to rear their child. Their potentially important child, or just important to them. Jason really didn’t know which way it was leaning, and it’s not like he could ask.

Really, he was just content to witness, maybe fantasize, a little, about what kind of songs they’d sing under his fists. What kind of song Phantom might sing, if Jason pinned him into the dirt.

One video changes that.

It’s a new one. Gotham is terribly excited by it; wherever Jason goes, he sees advertisements and hears people talking because– new ghost. New ghost. A new challenger approaches. The bars and the television companies keep any hints of who or what this late entry to the game might be, and it’s smart. Everybody’s talking about it. Fuck, even Tim is talking about it, and that little idiot hates the whole thing. Thinks it’s sickening that any being’s pain could be turned into sport.

Not that he’s wrong, just, y’know. No one’s really being hurt. 

Jason thinks he might also be… a little anticipatory. He’s gotten awfully familiar with the usual roster, their songs something that rattles off in his head throughout the day. He knows– heh. He knows what Phantom sings back to them. Intimately. Has that part memorized, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

He wants to hear Phantom sing about something new. That’s what’s exciting.

It’s exciting right up until he’s slouched down at a bar, eyes fixed to the screen and the cheers of the crowd around him drowned out by a tune that turns his blood to ice, stirs up something that’s been quiet in him for years, until his eyes flash green.

Because the new ghost doesn’t want to play with Phantom. He wants to own him. Like a dog. With discordant notes that sound like laughter, high pitched and crazed, like a metal pipe slamming into his face, over and over again–

And Phantom is defiant, glorious, powerful.

Afraid.

Jason doesn’t remember getting onto his bike, but as he heads east, he knows exactly where he’s going. Fuck permission, fuck the Justice League, and fuck Phantom for trying to handle that sort of shit on his own.

He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but this Plasmius guy? Is about to learn what it’s like to die. For the second time.

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 | 𝐛𝐨𝐛 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

Pairing Robert “Bob” Reynolds x Female Reader Summary On a slow morning, away from the pressures of the city, Bob helps quell your fears about the future [contains fluff, mild angst, the nickname ‘Robby’, cute superpower usage, wc 2.6k]  A/N I fell in love with Bob during Thunderbolts, and the events of this fic take place two years after the movie. A bit of maturing and healing have taken place—mentally and in terms of his powers. It’s my first time writing for him, so let me know what you think! 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Sunlight, bedsheets, and skin. Reality itself dawned with the visage of a dream. With a lone fingertip, you trace the line of his spine from the space between his shoulder blades to where the soft linen pools at his hips. Tiny hairs rise on his bare skin as he shivers. Bob envisions your soft smile and slow-blinking eyes before he tips fully into wakefulness. When he does, your touch stills midway along his back as you venture upwards. 

Instead of car engines, birds sing outside. Rather than the sweeping windows of the Avengers tower, floral wallpaper and simple curtained panes allow the sun’s rays to paint the room. There’s no agenda, no meetings, no need to rush. This is the Catskills, and Manhattan is miles away. 

You were grateful the team granted you two the weekend away at one of Bucky’s old safe houses. It’s a secluded rural farmhouse surrounded by oak trees—a scene fit for the silver screen. 

“There you are,” you lilt. 

Bob huffs a shy chuckle. “Hi.”  He swallows when you comb your fingers through his hair. “Have you been up long?” 

“Ages.” He frowns at that. “I’m kidding.” 

A small smile breaks across his face. If you had been waiting long, he’d consider telling you that he’d had one of the best sleeps of his life. Then it’d make sense why he wanted to cling to it just a little longer. 

He’d almost lost track of all his luck since he met you. A part of him feared it was bound to fade away, but even then, he’d be alright with life having given him time with you at all. It’d been a year since you met, and he couldn’t remember goodness ever prevailing this long. As far as he knew, there was a crash after every high. 

But not all people were like vices he was once used to seeking: there one minute and gone the next. You’d stumbled into Bob’s life one chilly night on West 43rd and bonded over cheap slices. Sometime between then and him walking you home, you realized you liked having him around. Without so much as trying, he made you lean in closer, laugh too loud, lose track of time. 

When your fingers pass through his hair yet another gentle time, a small sound rises in his throat as your nails scratch against his scalp. 

“That feels good,” he sighs. 

For someone who’d never quite be able to break, you treated him as though the opposite were true. Every touch was so thoughtful and careful that even he began to believe it might be possible after all. Maybe you saw that he was a bunch of tiny pieces held together by a renewed will to live. Maybe you were the glue. 

“It’s getting so long.” You playfully rake some soft strands of hair into his face, and the feathery sensation makes him scrunch his nose. “You’re gonna disappear on me pretty soon.” 

Bob combs his hair back to see you again, chest filled with a warmth that refuses to stay in one place. 

“I promise I won’t.” The dual meaning of his words translates through his deep, blue eyes. “Gonna come find me if I do?” 

You pretend to think, as if you hadn’t already done your share of saving each other. 

“Maybe,” you say. 

When his lips twitch with the threat of a smile, you poke his ribcage a couple of times to coax it out. It works like a charm. Before you know it, he rolls onto his back and pulls you to lie on top of him. Your legs fall on either side of his body. 

“Robby, careful,” you chuckle in surprise.  

He likes the pressure, the proximity. After a few seconds, you finally relax on top of him, scooting down his body enough to rest your head against his chest. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, and you can feel the rise and fall of each steady breath. One of his hands slips beneath your shirt to draw shapes across the small of your back.  

Your eyes slip closed, and like a light switch, you’re transported back to the night you first met. Fluorescent lights shine above as the two of you sit across from each other near the front window of a pizza place. The steady buzz of chatter fills the air along with the rich scent of tomato sauce and oregano. Outside, pedestrians flutter by. 

It’s a memory. 

You can see your present selves too, standing over the shoulders of the yous forever bound to the past. You meet Bob’s gaze, taking in his boxers and muscled torso as his own eyes rove over you. 

That night, the team had let him leave without Bucky or John tagging along. The independence wouldn’t have been a big deal in another life, but it felt like a rite of passage. They were finally beginning to trust in his ability to control the multitudes he contained. He could’ve gone anywhere in Manhattan, somewhere more bustling and lively, but he’d decided to take a walk and grab a greasy bite.  

As Bob looks between your past selves, he can see the nerves in his gaze and the intrigue in yours. It was possible you had seen him on TV back when the city turned void. If you did happen to know who he was, you were sensitive enough not to mention that fateful day. 

The real reason you’d struck up a conversation with him was because he’d held the door for you when you first walked into the pizza place, two strangers crossing paths in the city that never sleeps. There was a certain allure you couldn’t quite pin down, a palpable energy. Something behind his eyes.

It was no secret that those who wandered at night were often looking to feel a little more alive. Perhaps you’d met for a reason written somewhere amid the invisible stars. 

Upon opening your eyes, you’re back in bed with him. You prop yourself up on his chest to study him.  

“You took us back,” you say. 

“Sorry,” Bob murmurs. “Wasn’t trying to.”  

Sometimes, when he feels safe and thinks about you, his mind will pull you two into a lifelike memory. It wasn’t a matter of control; he simply allowed it to happen without fighting against it.  

You run a light fingertip down his nose. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

Bob takes your wrist and kisses the heel of your palm. “But you liked it.” 

“Says who?” 

“The smile on your face.” As soon as he says that, you purposely flatten your expression. A chuckle rumbles through him. “Guess I’ll stop if it’s so unbearable.” 

You could easily call his bluff, but the thought still stirs a small flicker of worry within you. Bob sees it in your eyes and squeezes you to quell it. There wasn’t a single part of him you hated. Not even the scarier, messier parts that often scared people away. It was their loss. It’d be hard to come across someone quite like him again.  

••• 

As the record player plays a jazzy instrumental, the sound of the spatula scraping against the bottom of the pan is a gentle accompaniment. Bob’s back muscles shift as he continues scrambling the eggs. It feels like you’re a koala bear with the way you’ve secured your arms around him, but he doesn’t mind. Not when it feels like this moment was handcrafted by tranquility itself. 

You didn’t get many moments like this in Manhattan. Now that you’re seeing what it’s like to have him all to yourself with no check-ins, you realize you wouldn’t mind having this forever. Except, forever seemed to stretch like an empty void waiting to be filled. And it was up to you to do the shaping. 

“Do you ever think about…” you trail off.  

Bob waits for you to continue, but you don’t. “About what?” he encourages. It almost hurts how patient he is with you. 

You tuck your nose into the space between his shoulder blades to inhale the scent of his shirt. “Thought you were a mind reader,” you accuse in a gentle attempt to deflect. “I want a refund.” 

Laughing, Bob turns off the stove and faces you. “It’s your mind we’re talking about.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he speaks. “Not even I can get a read on that thing.” What he means is that he’d never invade your thoughts. He never had. 

He tilts his head in that disarming, attentive way of his. “What were you gonna say?” His eyes remind you of the dark stare of a fawn, ever curious and searching. 

You redirect your attention to the floor. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

Bob lifts your chin back up with his index finger. “Like what?” It’s a painfully genuine question. “Like I value what you have to say?” 

When you remain quiet, his eyes darken, and bright ribbons of molten gold swirl through his irises. It’s beautiful in an intimidating way that makes your stomach flutter; an attempt at levity. A small smile plays on his lips as his gaze returns to normal. You bite back a reaction because you know he’d done it on purpose, knows you like it.  

“Tough crowd,” he playfully mumbles. “Talk to me, sweetheart, c’mon.” 

“After breakfast,” you say. “The food’s gonna get cold.” 

•••

Bob hums under his breath as he flips through a box of Bucky’s old vinyl. The house itself is even older, and the way the wooden floors creak tells the tale. He studies the cover art of the albums as you sit and watch from your place on the couch. You break your silence when you’ve had enough of the distance. 

“Hey, Robby?” He redirects his attention to you. “Maybe we can pause the music browsing for a sec.”

With how quickly he steps away from the box, you’re convinced he’d been waiting for you to say that. The cushions dip as he joins you on the plush sage couch. 

The entire living room is cozy. It reminds Bob of visits to his grandparents’ house as a boy. He remembers weekends and summers being dropped off when his parents claimed to need a break. It became a safe space that he never wanted to leave. 

With his grandparents, there was no constant clamoring, shouting matches, or phone calls from the electric company threatening to cut the lights off. He played outside in the sun with the older kids and came back inside to homemade lemonade and playful comments about him having worked up a good sweat. 

When he got older, and his grandparents passed away, his escape became the dingy basements of questionable acquaintances and back alleyways that never turned a lost soul away. 

Bob reaches over to squeeze your thigh. “I’m all ears whenever you're ready.”

“It feels kinda stupid now,” you admit. 

“Stupid and I go way back.” He’s sincere even as he jests. “Try me.” 

You play with your fingers and bite the inside of your cheek. It feels like you’re a scared kid standing on a diving board at the deep end of the pool. All attention is on you. It’s time to jump. 

“Do you ever think about the future? What it looks like?” you ask, pausing for a few seconds. “If people like us get a happily ever after?” 

You meet each other’s gaze. 

“People like us,” he repeats slowly. You can see the gears moving in his mind. 

“I’m me, and you’re… you,” you say. “There’s no such thing as normal.” 

Bob hums, not agreeing or disagreeing.

You exhale. “Everything’s starting to feel so perfect.” Bob waits for you to continue. “But it feels like I’m waiting for the rug to get ripped out from under me.” 

“I hear you,” he says, reaching out to interlock his fingers with yours. He's quiet for a few thoughtful beats. “I don’t know what’s down the road, but I know what’s in front of me right now,” he says. 

A silence stretches between you until he breaks it again. “Back when I tried the whole therapy thing, there was this idea called dress rehearsing tragedy,” he says. “It’s when you think of the worst so much that it gets hard for the good to shine through.” 

You nod as you soak in every measured word. 

“That was me every time things started to look up,” Bob admits reflectively. “I’m not saying that’s you right now—hell, you practically are the sun to me.” Your lips twitch upwards when he squeezes your hand. 

“What I’m saying is we get this whole weekend together.” Bob leans in closer. “So let’s just be here.” 

“And when the weekend ends?” you murmur, just to see what he says. 

“I promise I’m in this for the long haul,” he assures. “Whatever it takes.” 

Those last words linger in the air. Bob gives you his full attention when you shift as if you’re about to speak up. Instead, you brush your thumb over the back of his hand. His eyes never leave you. It’s a glimpse into what it must’ve felt like for him to be under your watchful gaze the night you met.  

“Whatever it takes,” you echo. 

So much in life seemed far away for you. Falling in love was for other people, marriage was for other people, buying a house and building a life was for other people. Not for you. 

Bob offers a solemn smile. “I used to be scared all the time.” He thinks for a moment. “Now I refuse to be. Out of spite mainly.” 

You huff a laugh, partly amused, partly in admiration. “I swear you’re not real sometimes. Like this is all just a dream.” 

Bob chuckles. “I swear I am.” He kisses your cheek to prove he’s real. “Need me to pinch you? ‘Cause I can do that too.” 

A small squeal escapes you as he reaches for your side, but he lets you push his hand away. You blink up at him in surprise when he stands and extends that hand to you. 

“Let’s go,” he says. 

You let him pull you to your feet, a spark of excitement stirring. “Go where?”

“The lake.”

•••

There’s a breeze that complements the warmth in the air. Grass crunches beneath your shoes as you follow Bob down to the shoreline. The still water shimmers in the light of the sun. Across the way, you can see somebody paddling in a canoe. There’s a bench beneath a cluster of birch trees, but Bob walks up to the water, and you stop by his side. Leaves rustle, birds chirp. 

He snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You rest your head on your shoulder. It’s so still and quiet that your thoughts begin to settle. Bob was right. Neither of you knew the future. But in this moment, you at least know the feeling of standing beside someone you love. You know you’d be willing to fight for it. And maybe that was enough. 

Bob looks at you after a while, cataloguing your features like it’s the first time. He closes the distance between you just as you’re about to jokingly ask if he’s looking for something. A pleasant warmth spreads through your body as his lips find yours. He kisses you tenderly, hands settling on your waist as you reposition yourself in front of him. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, where you gently tug his hair. 

Bob smiles into the kiss. Not for any particular reason, more like a culmination of things. 

You pull away. “What?” you whisper against his lips, beginning to smile. 

Bob’s cheeks warm as he shakes his head. “I’m just happy.” 

“Me too.” 

“We’re gonna be okay,” he promises. 

Your lips find each other’s again.

-

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

BOB MASTERLIST

ALL MASTERLISTS

[movrningstxrs]

REDAMANCY

inspired by this reddit post. image credits to @/other-wordly. REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated

JASON TODD who grew up in a broken home with an absentee father constantly in and out of jail, and a drug addict mother who wasn’t fully lucid most of the time to even remember she had a son.

JASON TODD who couldn’t wait to move out and start working so that he could escape this shitty city, this shitty life, and make a name for himself elsewhere.

JASON TODD who hated school, hated the work, hated the teachers and most of his peers, save for his so-called ‘friends.’ They were a bunch of assholes and bullies, but they feared and respected him, and—at the very least—they were fun enough to hang out with, if only to distract himself from his less-than-stellar home life.

JASON TODD who met you during sophomore year of high school: Bruce Wayne’s daughter. Your dad thought it’d be a good idea for you to mingle with the common folk to teach you about humility (or whatever other excuse rich people used to make themselves seem more gracious and benevolent than they actually were).

JASON TODD who, one day, couldn’t stand the sight of your sad, pathetic, crying face anymore due to his friends bullying you for your social status. He had told them plainly to knock it off because he was getting tired of hearing your annoying snivelling every day.

JASON TODD who ended up with you sitting next to him at lunch on the days that his friends had decided to skip school. You would talk to him, pay for his lunch—which he liked because he had nothing—and help him out with the homework that he never bothered to finish.

JASON TODD who, in return, began looking out for you whenever his friends or anyone else at school would get too close or try to bother you, because he at least owed you that much, right?

JASON TODD who, as the years went by, started to get invited to your house, met your family, and would hang out with you almost every single day. You, of course, would pay for everything, which—again—he liked. And although he liked you, he was beginning to realize that you loved him; a thought that both sickened and scared him to his very core.

JASON TODD who, somehow, ended up getting accepted into his first-choice college. He quickly realized that, despite having his driver’s license, he would need to get a car and the money to cover his insurance.

JASON TODD who eventually asked your dad, promising to pay him back later. He figured that Bruce would say no. He should’ve said no. Instead, Bruce said yes and bought him his very own car, telling him that it was a graduation gift for all of his hard work. You had obviously lied to your dad. He wouldn’t have even graduated if it weren’t for your help.

JASON TODD who realized he now had to take care of you, at least until he paid you and your dad back for the car and everything else. Once he had washed his hands of this debt, he’d finally be able to leave your life forever and never look back.

JASON TODD who would drive you anywhere and everywhere you wanted without so much as a question. To school, the movies, your favourite caf��s and dessert shops. You would always have this dumb, dopey smile on your face that radiated pure happiness whenever you were with him, while he only ever had the biggest pit in his stomach.

JASON TODD who was surprised when you kissed him first, when you asked him out first. As the two of you grew closer and closer, you would also become each other’s firsts, with you even being the one to propose to him after college.

JASON TODD who had been married to you for five years and known you for ten. You both lived perfectly ordinary lives: you as a bakery and café owner, and him as the head of security at your dad’s company. He still owed Bruce money for the car, as well as the house that he had given the two of you when you guys got married (even if Bruce had insisted that it was a wedding gift), not to mention all of the times you had paid for him since the beginning of your relationship.

JASON TODD who liked you, while you loved him so, so much. If he could take it all back, he would. Because it wasn’t hard to see that you were a good person who deserved so much better than him.

JASON TODD who eventually confessed all of his secrets and doubts to Bruce one day when the guilt was just too much. He had expected to be met with scorn and disgust from his father-in-law for being a liar and using his daughter this whole time, but instead, he was met with sympathy and understanding. Bruce simply put a hand on his shoulder and told him that he knew what it was like to live in self-loathing and to be one’s own worst enemy, and that he was a good son, a good husband, and a good man who deserved happiness.

JASON TODD who went home that night to see your smiling face and felt indescribably lighter. After sitting down to a dinner of his favourite meal, he told you that he loved you, and—for the first time in his life—he didn’t feel like he was forcing himself to say it. He repeated himself a second time after some slight hesitation, and then a third time that came almost easy to him, like breathing air. The cute, flustered look on your face was well worth it.

JASON TODD who later told you everything as you both lay in bed, repeating the same sentiments he had told your dad earlier in the day. He then apologized for not treating you fairly and promised that he would spend the rest of his life cherishing you properly like he should’ve from the start.

JASON TODD who almost had a panic attack when you started crying (from tears of joy, you quickly clarified) before telling him that he was the kindest, sweetest, and best man you had ever met, even if he didn’t believe it himself, because you knew the real him. You thanked him for saving you all of those years ago, told him that he was your world, and that you loved him.

JASON TODD who told you that you were his life, that he loved you, and thanked you for loving him when he couldn’t see what anyone else could possibly love about him. He openly cried into your arms for the first time ever in your relationship, and then a second time when you had tearfully announced that you were pregnant.

JASON TODD who held you tight in his arms that night as you slept peacefully beside him, a gentle hand caressing your barely noticeable bump as he smiled and promised to love you and this child forevermore and beyond. He would uphold his vows, be the best husband and dad that he could be, and love you truly, deeply, and dearly—no longer because he ‘needed’ to, but because he wanted to.

JASON TODD who learned to love himself and love life by loving you.

[cherrybomb107]

I literally wouldn’t have cared if they decided to pull a Cyberpunk Edgerunners and kill off our entire main cast save for one or two characters and let the bad guys(the establishment) win. Tragedy isn’t the problem. The problem is the way they went about it. The show had so many plot threads to tie up, there was never any time to truly reckon with all the tragedies that were occurring.

Ekko losing his tree because of Arcane poisoning would be tragic. Notice I said “would be” because that plot line is literally never addressed again. It gets brought up, and then forgotten about. Vi being hit by her girlfriend after she makes the decision to put on the uniform of her oppressors and contribute to oppressing her own people in pursuit of a little sister who she can’t accept has changed is tragic on multiple levels! That’s some compelling shit! But the show never meaningfully addresses these issues or lets Vi react to them without throwing her into a new situation where she has to fight and lose something again. All Vi has ever done her entire life is try and fail to protect her loved ones. She gets punished for trying. It’s almost like the universe itself is out to get her! But we never see Vi break down and pick herself back up. We never see her make any choices to do what’s best for her. The plot decided for her and that’s the problem!

Vi and Jinx deciding to go their separate ways after all that they’ve been through would’ve been tragic. These two sister who love each other more than anything having to break apart for who knows how long and holding onto the hope that maybe they can reunite and be sisters again is gut wrenching…or at least it WOULD be if they actually decided to separate! Vi didn’t decide to leave her sister, Jinx didn’t decide to leave Vi, the narrative forced them apart! The narrative keeps ripping them away from each other and it’s starting to feel intentional. Trying to tell the audience that the only way Vi can truly be happy and choose herself is by having her baby sister die and being forced to live with her girlfriend in a city that will be extremely discriminatory towards her is not it. I’m not saying that Vi and Jinx have to ride off into the sunset together. But I am saying that if going their separate ways really was for the best, the show wouldn’t spend so much time trying to convince us of that. It would just happen organically. Which, to me, it didn’t

Jinx losing Isha was yet another tragedy! But the show doesn’t really show Jinx grieving and then deciding to fight for what she believes in after Ekko convinces her to try. She tried to kill herself five times. FIVE TIMES!!! How on Earth did she go from that to a badass piloting an airship, dripped out with her new outfit and steeled sense of resolve? We don’t know because it happened offscreen! I understand the show had time constraints, but come on. This plot line deserved more time to shine. Sevika being on the Council is a tragedy. It’s an empty gesture for one, and majority rules for two. That means Sevika will be forced to try to barter for Zaun’s freedom while being surrounded by a bunch of classist Piltie pricks who despise her and everything she stands for. She will be talked over and talked down to. That’s not a happy ending! But the show frames it like it is! And I’m sorry but if you can’t watch interviews of the writers saying their thoughts on the show and you genuinely believe that they have the range to write Sevika being on the Council as thoughtful commentary? No comment😭😭😭

Caitlyn’s corruption arc is yet another tragedy! Both because of what happened to her AND the fact that the arc wasn’t done! Caitlyn’s arc was supposed to show how no matter how “good” and “kind” a privileged person believes them self to be, their unconscious bias and prejudice against the out group will rear its ugly head the second they experience a fraction of what the marginalized group has been experiencing for centuries. It was so easy for Caitlyn to say “I understand now. How easy it is to hate them.” “Those animals!” “I thought you were different, but you’re not. It’s her blood in your veins!” How easy it was for her to weaponize The Gray. How easy it was for her to work with Ambessa and co sign martial law despite knowing better. How easy it was for her to risk killing a child just to get to Jinx. That’s super compelling! But the problem is we never see Caitlyn wrestle with her decisions. Guilt should be eating her ALIVE and all we get is a complete 180 from her after a time skip! Then she does nothing to redeem herself! And once again, no the writers absolutely did not intend that to be commentary on how the privileged are able to get away with things the lower class would be imprisoned/killed for. If they did then Caitlyn could’ve had a confrontation with someone from Zaun, whether that be Sevika, Ekko, Jinx, Vi or someone else, where they call her out on her hypocrisy. Then we would see her wrestle with that and realize the monster that she’s become.

Unfortunately, all these tragedies are not given the proper narrative weight they deserve. Or they’re not treated as tragedies when they so clearly are! THAT’S the problem! It’s not tragedy, it’s the framing! And it’s the way y’all are so condescending whenever someone criticizes the show. Why is every single critique met with “You didn’t watch/understand the show”? Why is it always “What were you expecting?” “You’re just mad it didn’t go your way.” “You’re just a hater.” “You have no idea how hard writing a script is.” “They planned the story from the beginning, this is how it was supposed to be.” And on and on and on. It’s exhausting! Why is it so hard for y’all to understand that it is possible to understand and have love for something but still have gripes with it? It doesn’t mean I love the show any less! It just means I’d love it even more if not for these certain aspects of it. That’s it, that’s all🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

[monstersholygrail]

All For You

Preview— Patreon Exclusive

Monster Overlord x fem!reader— fluff, romance, lovely domesticity, and passionate sex

Monster Overlord who honestly could not give a rats ass about being a ruler. No, he’s done it all for you anyway so it’s just a means to an end in his vow to keep you safe from all harm.

So if someone were to ask him what his greatest achievement is he would tell them without hesitation that being your husband is by far his greatest accomplishment. He would do anything for you, risk anything, give you whatever it is you desire.

It never fails to be quite a shock to those who ask and see the change you’ve brought out in him for themselves.

Monster Overlord who’s slashed his claws through thousands of enemies and bathed joyously in their blood as he laughed and laughed is no more. Now, he finds himself showered head-to-toe in flour dough.

You had come up to him and asked so nicely if he’d help you bake a bunch of deserts for the people of the city. He couldn’t deny you and you couldn’t deny how much fun it was seeing him like this.

In your playfulness you take the flower bag and toss its contents over his monstrous form, your giggles loud and happy. And instead of getting mad as his staff fears, they all are frozen still as their Overlord begins to chuckle along with you, his laughter rumbling the floorboards and shaking the palace.

Monster Overlord who had torn down countless cities with his bare claws, leaving nothing but their crumbling foundations in their wake without a care for the ground beneath him is long gone. Now, he holds baby plants in his claws with all the gentleness in the world as he places them in the soil.

During your daily walks around the palace with your husband you notice that the grounds are getting a little sad and brown. Your husband immediately offers to behead the groundsmen for you but you quickly decline and suggest you two can do it yourselves.

He’s quite confused. Not understanding why you would not want the groundsmen punished, nor why you would want to do it yourselves. Especially when it is their job, not yours. Yet he does not resist or dare to question you as you give your orders to him so swiftly and without fear. It is his greatest joy to see you make demands of him without hesitation. That you do not resist or fear him. He’ll do anything you say to keep it this way.

And that leads them to digging up holes in the soil with ease, his claws making this a much easier task. Then he ever so gently, just as you instructed, places the plants in each hole before covering them up. By the end of the season the grounds are alive once more and he can’t help but feel an enormous amount of pride over the fact. Much more than he ever did for tearing down cities.

This is a Patreon exclusive fic so you'll only be able to read it there! Check it out if you're interested in reading the entire fic and many more. I have a ton of other exclusive and early access fics that you can read there too!!

[luveline]

Gah, your Peter Parker leaves me sighing in the best way every time! If you feel like it, could you write a little blurb of him melting from fondness when reader gets bashful following him doing/saying something soft? It’s so sweet, seeing two people mutually melt around and because of each other. Even when it’s the smallest thing, it means so much more when it’s from one of YOUR important people.

ty for your request! <3 fem

Fuck, Peter Parker thinks, jogging up the steps to your apartment building, this is the life. It’s a hot day in New York City but there are cold drinks to be had and that electric fan in your bedroom is calling his name. There’s genuinely no better place to be than laying on your sheets in pyjamas you wash with that apple blossom laundry softener he loves, knowing you keep using it ‘cos you love it, and knowing you wash his pyjamas because you love him. 

Spidering is going well, he saved a kid today who nearly got crushed by a ten tonner, so he’s feeling pretty good about himself, or at least feeling good about his decisions. He made Aunt May lunch and took it down to the hospital, he flirted gently with the older nurses, and now he’s gunning up the stairs to your apartment, every step a crinkle. 

Your door is wide open (awful) but you have good reason —the floors and the countertops shine. The windows are open, and the room is fragrant with your oil diffuser. You’re on your knees by the TV wiping down the table with a damp rag in loose-fitting clothes, sleeves pushed up, brows puckered. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. 

“Peter, I’m not talking to you today.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You know how many pairs of your socks I found when I was cleaning today?” 

He grimaces. “Two?” 

“Nine pairs of socks, Peter.” 

He puts the flowers he’s brought you down on the coffee table and his back on the floor. He’d been hoping to do a grand unveiling of the bouquet to surprise you, but he feels terrible. “I don’t even know how that happens,” he mumbles dejectedly, kneeling down behind you, his arms threading in front of your tummy to give you a backwards squeeze. “They just disappear.” 

“They don’t, evidently.” 

“I’m really sorry.” He kisses your cheek. “I’m genuinely really sorry. That’s sloppy. I’m not a kid.” 

“No, you’re not… I’m not that mad though, you don’t have to sound so serious.” 

He holds the place just under your breastbone in his hands. “Oh, you’re not?” He tugs you to his front to stop you from moving prematurely and reaches blindly behind him for the flowers. You laugh as he tips back, taking you with him, the sound vibrating through you and into him. “That’s good. Don’t need these then, do we?” 

He twirls the bouquet, pressing it carefully to your chest. 

You immediately relax in his arms. He treasures that feeling, your weight leaning against him, your cheek listing down into his arm. You raise a hand, his arm trapped in the crook of your elbow as you examine the lilac petal of a sweetpea. “I love these ones.” 

“I know.” 

You take more time than anyone else would sifting through the flowers of the bouquet, breath the only evidence of your delight. You breathe out slowly whenever one of the flowers is particularly beautiful, and then you hug the bunch to your nose for a mild sniff. 

“Thank you.” 

Peter kisses your cheek. He savours the feeling of it, your skin under his lips, being that close to you, his hair on your forehead and your eyebrow tickling him as he hugs you just that little bit closer. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, affection in every word, and a little drop of shyness too, “I was thinking of you, and they looked healthy for once, considering they’re off of the corner by Mandy’s.” 

“They’re so pretty,” you mumble, turning into him as much as you can. He lets up his tight hold. 

“Like you.” 

You brush your forehead against his chin. Peter actually gets goosebumps, letting the flowers fall to the floor by your leg so he can hold you. “I feel bad for caring about the socks now,” you mumble. 

He laughs with lips still closed and offers you a soft kiss. 

[kingkatsuki]

Old man Bakugou (who isn’t even that old, but god I want him)

Warnings: 18+, retired!Pro-Hero Dynamight, Bakugou is 50, reader is like half his age or more or less idc but Bakugou is older.

Bakugou retires at fifty. It’s much younger than a lot of other heroes that have paved the way for him, and yet he’s accomplished so much that it’s time for him to step aside for the future Pros. The ones that still have so much drive and energy, and are ready to conquer their dreams just like he was.

It gives up a place in the top five rankings for another younger, keen Pro-Hero to take his place. But of course Dynamight is still popular, and he’s still got a loyal fan base that continue to adore him even into his retirement.

Bakugou is still recognised when he goes out to restaurants and coffee shops, full of people trying to grab his autograph or share stories of how they grew up with him and watched him reach number one.

And then there’s you— he meets you one night at a bar when he’s nursing a beer, trying to adjust to having a free schedule instead of protecting the city. And he can’t help but notice the way your eyes glisten when you notice him, leaning against the bar beside his stool as you tilt your head inquisitively.

“No way, you’re Dynamight? My mom used to love you.”

And once again Bakugou is reminded of just how old he is, his blond hair now mixed with wisps of silver, the thick stubble that frames his jaw well on its way to being a beard, his muscular chest now curved with soft pudge and blond hairs and his back aches as he sits on the barstool.

“She had the biggest crush on you when she was younger,” You take a seat beside him as you sip at your own drink, “Had posters and figures up of you and everything.”

Bakugou doesn’t know how it happened— or why a pretty young thing like you wants anything to do with him. He’s gotta be twice your age, maybe more— but the casual conversation continues and you’re practically leaning into him now, pretty eyes glazed over as you stare down at his lips.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck an old man,” You tease, but you should be careful what you wish for, “Can you even still get it up?”

Bakugou reckons he should have you over his knee for that comment alone, but that’s all it takes for him to have his beer bottle slamming down onto the bar as he grabs you by the wrist.

Barely ten minutes later Bakugou has your knees pushed up to your chest inside the dingy dive bar bathroom. Your knickers bunched around them to keep your thighs together as he rams his thick, hard cock inside your tight cunt. The ferocity of his thrusts unlike anything you’ve felt before and you’re certain you can feel him in your lungs. Your naive hole squelches around him, your essence leaking out of you and soaking his heavy balls as the only words that leave your lips now are incoherent babbles. Your hands cling to him for some semblance of reality, painted nails leaving crescent-shaped moons in his forearms. Your grip rough enough to break his skin and join the multiude of scars that already marr his body.

Your head knocks against the mirror with each cant of his hips but you could care less. The pleasure surging through your veins has your mind hazy, his hulking body practically folds you in two as he looms over you, burying his cock inside you to the hilt as you feel so full.

You’re positive you look debauched. Your pretty lipstick ruined as it’s smeared across your lips and cheeks, certain you’re drooling down your chin as he fucks you within an inch of your life. It’s nothing like the inept men around your own age you’d been with before. With age comes experience, and you’re certain you see heaven when a calloused thumb slips between your bodies to press against your puffy clit.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” He groans, “This old man’s gonna have you gushin’ all over his cock.”

[ce1estiall]

nothing left

summary paige x reader paige sending mixed signals as you grew up, but what do they mean? masterlist.

warnings angst, fluff

celestial notes hey guys, second fic hope you like it 😁 this is inspired by “no me queda más (i have nothing left)” by selena which is one of my favorite songs!

“i have nothing left, if your return today would be an impossibility, and this was not love

what you deny today, what you say never happened, is the sweetest memory of my life.” no me queda más - selena

it was the first day of freshman orientation. new high school, new peers, new teachers, new city, everything. you recently moved to hopkins in the summer. you checked your schedule as you had

block 1 first. you entered the classroom as one of the first people there with nervousness. your teacher greeted you with a smile. as you sat down and started drawing in your sketch book, a blonde and tall girl was walking towards you. nike headband, messy bun, hopkins basketball hoody with sweatpants and some jordans. "hey! im paige." she said softly, as she chose to sit down next to you. "oh, hi." you were too shy and caught off guard, but paige just kept talking. there was just something about her that made you comfortable. "i like your drawing, its very beautiful. do you do art as a hobby?" she asked, slowly trying to make you break out of your shell. you spoke more confidently this time, sitting up straight against your chair. "thank you. yeah, i really like to draw and paint and makes me express myself." paige leaned her hand against her head, look towards you. "you know what makes me express myself?" you thought for a second. "no idea. what is it?"

"basketball. i wouldn't have enough time in the world to tell you about basketball." oh but paige did. the entire class, she talked to you about the sport she cared about the most. she told you how she played a bunch of sports when she was younger, but basketball stuck the most. how she played jv at hopkins in just 7th grade, and was mostly likely to make varsity as a freshman. she played aau since 4th grade and was going to continue. she told you about her basketball dreams, receiving an offer from uconn and eventually going to the wnba. ever since that one interaction, you spoke out to her more. paige eventually became your best friend. you got her, and she got you. you would always hang out together after school, unless she had practice. you would walk to the park or the plaza, fooling around and goofing off while getting food.

both of you growing up in high school together made you guys not only learn a lot about each other, but yourselves also. you realized sports were never your thing, art was always your style. you didn't know how to shoot a basketball or pass a volleyball to save your life. you were the quiet, girly-ish girl. headphones in, sketch book near, a massive vinyl collection, academic weapon, and tones of paint canvases and posters in your room. however, paige was the total opposite. total tomboy, extrovert, sporty, sore-loser, but she was also smart also. no wonder why she was in biology honors with you.

one hang out, you both were having real and deep personal conversations. one being as paige told you something she didn't tell anyone before. "i like girls, does that change anything between us?" she asked you, sitting at the edge of your bed looking worried. "of course not. thank you for telling me paige." ever since that day, it had you thinking about your sexual orientation.

as you both continued your high school journey, you were still super close, basically like sisters. you watched paige play during the high school season, and also sometimes went to her aau tournaments if they were in town. you always had to represent her, and she would look every game in the stands to see if you were there.

you watched paige work tirelessly and consistently as you saw one of her dreams come true. an offer from uconn. you never forgot that day.

lil paigey🏀: GUESS WHAT

lil paigey🏀: HELLO

lil paigey🏀: ANSWER ME

you: WHAT

you: WHAT HAPPENED

lil paigey🏀: guess who i just got off the phone with bitch

you: no idea

lil paigey🏀: GENO AURIEMMA.

you didnt speak basketball, so you were so incredibly lost.

you: is this a good or bad thing

lil paigey🏀: HELLO HE'S THE HEAD COACH FOR UCONN. I GOT AN OFFER

you: ARE YOU SERIOUS??? YOU'RE NOT FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT?

lil paigey🏀: OFC NOT HELLO??

you: paige im so incredibly proud of you and how much your hard work has payed off.

the next day at school, you ran up to her, squeezing her into a hug so tight that she could barely breathe. "lil paigey!!!!" you squealed. “im so so so proud of you. i almost cried when you told me.” she looked at you after you both released from the hug. it wasn’t a normal look. it felt like it had more meaning. the way her blue eyes dilated, gave you a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t describe.

acceptance day came for college applications. you applied to uconn of course, and got accepted. paige acted the same way you did when she told you she received an offer.

time passed, graduation happened like a blink of an eye. paige was focused and locked in for college basketball. you had a dorm next to the basketball team. paige quickly introduced you to her teammates, and you all got along well. sometimes before or after practices she would stay in your dorm and relax or do any homework.

some practices were later than usual, which caused her to come to your dorm later in the night.

paige had a 7pm practice that usually lasted 2 hours. you were at your desk with an amber scent candle burning next to you. notes, pens, and highlighters scattered all over your desk. you had a statistics exam the next morning, and were trying to retain as much information as possible. just as you were in your mode and focused, a knock came from the door. it was 9pm.

you got up from your desk in a daze and opened the front door. by your surprise, it was paige.

"can i stay here for the night?" she asked, out of breath.

"well hello to you too. didn't you just get out of practice? and why?" you asked her, rubbing your eyes.

"yes. and water leakage. soooo can i?" paige seemed exhausted and energetic at once. you had no idea what you were about to get yourself into.

"sure. i dont have an extra room tho, so its the couch or-" she stopped you. "can i sleep with you?"

you didn't mind. you've known paige since forever. nothing would happen, right? "yeah thats fine. make yourself comfortable."

a feeling in your body over came you. you suddenly broke out into a hot flash, but you ignored it.

paige walked inside, taking her slides off. she then walked into your room, you were right behind her. you saw the way her face lot up when she entered, observing everything. you sonny angels and smitski collection, legos, cds, posters, and a diffuser with eucalyptus spraying. it was a very clean and relaxing space to paige.

"this is your room?" she looked at you in awe. "in all the years i've known you, it was never this organized."

you laughed. "gee, thanks paige. you should be the last one talking."

"you know you enjoy my sense of humor." she jumped onto the bed, into your pile of plushies and stuffed animals. you handed her the control. "im gonna get a snack really quick. want anything?"

"you got my favorites?" she asked. you rolled your eyes and walked into the kitchen. you opened the cabinet and grabbed gold and paige's favorite, oreos.

you went back to your room and sat down next to her. "how do you not give these up during the season." you placed the party size pack of oreos and infront of both of you. paige picked "criminal minds" to watch, another one of her favorites. you and paige were both relaxed at this point as both of you suddenly became closer.

a sudden wave of sleepiness went over you. next thing you know, you were out like a light. you fell asleep on paiges shoulder. she quickly noticed, turning to look at you. she was trying not to move too much to not wake you up. she played with your wavy, brown hair and massaged your shoulder with one arm as she was still watching criminal minds. "good night" she spoke softly into your ear. she turned the tv off and slept next to you, soundly.

the next day, you woke up and found her gone. you checked your phone and saw she left a text

p BUCKETSS 🪣: if you wake up and im not there, i had early practice today. don't worry, im okay. see you later 💫

you went to your biochem class at 11am. after, you returned to your dorm and studied again for statistics test you had at 1pm.

the time was now 7pm, and another knock occurred on your door as you were making dinner. you unlocked the door and not surprised that it was paige. "can i stay here again?"

"yeah thats fine. i'm making dinner." she walked into the kitchen as you close the door behind her. you went back to cooking.

"what are you making?" she asked curiously. she stared at the food like she was ravenous.

"chicken with roasted potatoes. want some?" you asked, grabbing out two plates. "yes, please" she smiled. you served her the plate as she sat down at the island. herbs and spices flooded her nose, smelling delicious. she took a bite of the food, and instantly fell in love with your cooking.

"when the fuck did you learn how to cook? i swear this is the best meal i've ever had in my life." she was enjoying the meal like it was her last one on earth. "okay thats a stretch now." you said laughing.

just like yesterday, she went into your room, and watched criminal minds. after you washed the dishes, you went and sat down next to her. her same arm on your shoulders. an exciting feeling overcame you. she asked you about her day and remembered about your statistics test. you told her you crammed and still passed. next moment after you both talked for what seemed like it would never end, she was knocked out. this time, her head on your shoulder. you smiled at the sigh of her. "good night, p buckets." you whispered into her ear.

same thing happened, you woke up with her missing, but she left you another text.

over the next couple of days, not only would she sleep with you in the evenings in her dorm, but she would always find time to spend with you. after practices, you would drive to get both of you something to eat and go shopping. she payed for everything when you insisted to buy her something. that nil money was in fact treating her very well.

after the shopping spree, she wanted to stay with you, at her dorm. the drive back at storrs was very, interesting. the tension between both of you was thick, and in the air. while paige drove home instead of you, when "snooze" by sza was playing, she was singing the lyrics while putting her hand on your thigh.

she sung quietly, but beautifully. never skipping a word. it was like she knew this song by heart. you noticed the playlist title called "falling in love". at the stoplights, she would look at you. a look of love. the same feeling you got the other day returned back. you were now putting the pieces together on why you're feeling this way. you're in love.

you arrived at her dorm. as you walked in, you were greeted by one of her roommates and teammate, kk arnold.

"hey girly pop how are you!" kk reached in for a hug "ugh and look whos back. just kidding you know i love you p boogers"

"bro shut up" she told kk. "don't mind her. lets go to my room."

"ouhh what yall finna do?" she said, acting childish. you gave her a glare that said "shut up" in the nicest way possible.

you entered her room, it was a mess. clothes everywhere, basketball shoes all over the floors, empty water bottles, but you didn't mind. you sat down on her bed hugging her stuff animal. you broke the silence first. "thanks for paying for my things today. you didn't have to."

paige smirked. "its no problem. that was my giving back for you letting me stay those couple of nights."

you suddenly felt uncomfortable, but in a good way. the tension was still there, and you didn't want to do something you were going to regret. "i have to go. ill see you later tho."

"yeah" paige said, in disappointment that you had to leave so early. "bye"

"bye paige. bye kk" you said opening the door as you were leaving.

"bye girly pop!" kk yelled.

since that interaction, paige was looking for you. after classes, during your lunch, at her games, after practices, she never wanted to leave you. when you were with her, you were always happy. you didn't want the moment to end. all your problems left when she was with you. her flirting or teasing or terrible jokes always made you laugh or crack a smile. it was official. you were in love with you childhood best friend, paige.

you felt like paige was giving you mixed signals. sure, you knew paige was gay, but you were starting to realize you liked girls also. paige has dated girls before and would usually tell you about it, but you never had that opportunity. you didn't fall in love so easily and no one liked you like that, ever. paige was never afraid to show the different side of her. very flirty, touchy, and up close with you. it flustered you in a way and gave you butterflies in a way.

more time together lead to you falling for her more. and falling hard. after driving yourself practically insane on what she was trying to signal to you, you decide to tell her how you felt.

you walked to her dorm building, eventually finding her number. you knocked twice with anticipation. the door opened, it was paige.

"look who chased me." she darted.

"can we talk? can i come inside?" you said seriously.

she saw the change in your face. "i need to talk to you about something also. yeah, sure."

you walked to her room and sat at the edge of her bed, she sat next to you, looking at your face. "should you go first or should i?" she chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.

"look paige. i really appreciate you hanging out with me recently and reconnect again with your schedule and basketball. we've know each other since we were teenagers, but we're starting to be closer than ever before. i've noticed recently on how you're acting with me. the flirty comments. you touching my thighs or hugging me from behind out of the blue. it made me feel something, like an electrifying feeling that flows through my body. when i go to bed, thats all i think about. its you. im in love with you paige." you spoke, legs shaking from the anxiety. the way you saw her body language, it wasn't a good sign.

"oh." she said as she zoned out for a couple of seconds. oh? was that all she had to say?

"hey." she touched your thigh again in consolidation. "thank you for telling me this. what i wanted to tell you was that i'm talking to someone. i've been talking to them for a couple of months now. we have a date soon. you know i've always been touchy and extroverted." tears started forming in your eyes, out of anger. paige continued "i'm telling you this, especially now because i don't want to play with your feelings or get you hopes high. i'm sorry if this isn't the news you wanted to hear, but i will always be your best friend, okay?"

you just tuned her out. "yeah, sure. i have to leave."

you stormed out of her dorm, slamming the door as you left. the walk back to your dorm was sad, as the sky was cloudy and humid, like you. you cried all the way walking until you arrived at your dorm, jumping onto your bed and sobbing. as you were defeated, and paige was happy, you still kept this memory. you secretly had hope in the bottom of your heart that she would've felt the same, and she would've stayed with you. you now have to see paige as a friend, as though you lived in love, but were wrong on how she felt. you have nothing left.

[meadowfics]

lost and found

hwang jun-ho x f!reader

the world is cruel, and you and the officer find out that it will get worse.

warnings: mentions of death! unfortunately, squid game is in this one. romantic tension. slow burn-ish. this takes place during season 1. junho being innocently stalker-ish. PTSD, stealing/theft, pre-established relationship, it gets spicy towards the end. platonic saebyeok x f!reader and platonic gi hun x f!reader too.

the city of seoul has never been kind to you.

it used to be, once upon a time. when you were young and did not know much, before the world decided to spit you out like something bitter and unwanted. back then, you were soft. you had this endless capacity to love, to forgive, to believe that people were good at their core. 

maybe some still are, but you don’t care to look for them anymore. there was a time when your empathy was your greatest strength…when you saw someone struggling, you helped, even if it meant giving them the last bit of food in your pocket. 

however, life has a way of chewing up people like you. people who give too much. people who don’t know when to stop bleeding for others.

so now, you don’t give. 

you take.

survival in seoul isn’t kind to the softhearted. there are too many wolves in this city, too many people ready to step on your neck the moment you let your guard down. you learned that the hard way. so you adjusted, adapted. you became what you needed to be to live. 

you steal, scam, and take what you need from those who won’t miss it. not too much…never enough to bring too much attention to yourself or get charged for the felony equivalent in south korea. you only steal enough to survive. enough to make it another day. 

your hands are quick, your mind sharper. you’ve learned how to slip through the cracks of the world, how to turn your heart into steel since nobody else ever cared about you.

some nights, when the neon lights of hongdae reflect against the pavement and the city hums with life, you sit alone and wonder if there’s a way out of this. the party life is just right outside of your apartment.

sometimes you wonder if there’s a light waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. 

each time, the answer is the same. 

no.

there is no light. there is only the dark tunnel.

in seoul, it’s late, the air thick with the scent of soju and grilled meat, laughter spilling out from the bars lining the street. the party district of hongdae is alive, especially tonight since college students go back to school tommorow.

the sidewalks are crammed with people stumbling between clubs, couples clinging to each other, groups of friends taking drunken selfies under the flickering streetlights. it’s an easy place to disappear into, a perfect hunting ground for someone like you.

you spot the redhead almost immediately.

she looks around your age, maybe a little older. the woman’s purse hangs loosely over her shoulder, the zipper half-open, a bunch of 50,000 won bills peeking out. 

that girl is too careless. too trusting, too stupid. your fingers twitch. you don’t hesitate. you step forward, close enough to brush past her, then your hand snatches the purse in one swift motion.

“hey!” she yelps, whirling around, reaching for you. the girl’s fingers graze your sleeve, but you’re faster. you yank the purse away, shoving her back hard. she stumbles, hitting the pavement with a startled cry. 

you don’t feel anything. not guilt, not regret. you feel just the rush of adrenaline as you clutch the stolen bag tighter and start to run off.

then…

“hey, stop!”

your head snaps behind.

a police officer.

the voice of authority cuts through the noise of the crowd, sharp and commanding. your eyes lock onto him for a split second…a man with dark hair, strong jaw, eyes locked onto you with unwavering determination.

fuck.

you don’t hesitate. your feet move before your mind can catch up, body twisting as you bolt into the crowd. the bag is clutched tight in your arms as you weave through bodies, heart slamming against your ribs. behind you, the officer is still yelling, shoving past people, chasing you.

it’s a long run. too long. your lungs burn, your legs scream in protest, but you can’t stop. not now. you need this money to survive and cannot spend a night in a cold cell, not again at least.

the streets blur as you sprint, twisting through alleyways, slipping through groups of people too drunk to notice you. the officer is persistent, but so are you. 

the desperation makes you faster in way.

left. right. through a narrow gap between two buildings. past a food stall. over a railing. you smacked into a few people but most of them mainly found entertainment in the whole thing. the police officer being frustrated that they didn’t catch you for him. 

you can still hear his feet running behind you, but the distance is growing. he’s good, but you’re better. you have to be.

finally, finally, you see an opening…a narrow alley packed with people, bodies pressed together in drunken laughter. you push into the throng, squeezing between them, head down, moving fast. 

the moment you’re inside the mass of people, you twist, slipping out the other side.

the officer doesn’t make it through in time.

you could swear that you heard him swear, then nothing.

you keep running until you’re sure he’s gone, until your lungs burn and your vision blurs.

back in the alley, hwang jun-ho stands at the edge of the crowd, hands on his knees, breathing hard. frustration twists in his chest. 

he catches everyone, but not you tonight. 

not this time.

just a few blocks away, you just linger among the party crowd. you don’t go home immediately since that would be stupid. instead, you just take a long, winding path through backstreets and alleyways, making sure no one is following you. 

only when you’re certain that you’ve shaken off any lingering attention do you head back to your apartment.

your door has two locks, and you slide the security bar into place before exhaling. safe.

the stolen purse hits your kitchen island with a dull thud. you waste no time, unzipping it and dumping everything out onto the table.

a fenty lip gloss, used and sticky. gross. a single tampon, the woman could’ve kept that.

a metro card..you toss it straight into the trash since it's too risky and can be tracked.

then, jackpot.

there were identification cards which were meaningless to you. the thick wad of cash though? that’s everything. you grab the bills, hands steady as you start counting. 10,000 won, 50,000 won, 100,000 won… when you’re finished, the total stands at 1,200,000 won.

this isn’t just a good night. this is security. rent for next month, covered. a few days inside, hidden, making sure that officer doesn’t recognize you.

you let out a slow breath. for now, you’re safe.

well, only for three days because now the cold steel of the chair digs into your back as you slouch against it, wrists resting lazily in your lap, the handcuffs cold against your skin. the precinct smells of burnt coffee and old papers, fluorescent lights humming above you.

you had a few days of peace before the cops knocked on your door, telling you that you had to go down to the station. they know you by name now, not bothering to go an extra mile since you never change the signature of your crimes.

the only reason you’re not behind bars is because the girl you robbed doesn’t even live here. she already went back to her home in the UK according to the officer. so, fortunately, you just get another warning. 

you should be relieved, maybe even grateful, but you don’t feel anything. nothing at all.

across from you, leaning against the edge of the desk with arms crossed, is the officer who chased you that night. hwang jun-ho is his name.

he is pissing you off. not for being a pig, but you hate that he looks good in the dim light, hate the sharp angles of his face, the slight furrow in his brow as he watches you like you’re some puzzle he can’t quite solve. 

you’re used to police officers looking at you with disgust, with judgment, but there’s something different in his gaze. curiosity.

“so,” he finally speaks, his voice even. 

“you’re fast.”

you shrug. 

“what can i say?”

he tilts his head slightly, gaze sweeping over you in assessment. 

“you play sports?”

you exhale sharply through your nose, a ghost of a laugh. 

“that’s not important.”

jun-ho smirks, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears. 

“fair.”

he steps away, pacing to the side as he flips through a thin file…yours, probably. your name, your face, your crimes reduced to black ink on paper. you wonder how much of your life is in there, if they know more than just your record.

“you’ve been warned before,” he says, flipping a page.

 “a few times, actually. shoplifting. scams. pickpocketing.” he closes the file and meets your gaze. “but no felony charges.”

“guess i’m lucky,” you say, leaning back, feigning boredom.

“not luck,” jun-ho corrects, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

“just smart enough to not take it too far.” he tilts his head slightly. 

you say nothing, looking away.

“give back the purse.”

you reach your cuffed hands under the table, grabbing the bag and tossing it onto the desk between you. the leather is slightly worn from the days you’ve had it, but nothing else is out of place.

jun-ho watches you carefully, then sighs. 

“the money.”

you don’t move.

the money is in your safe, in your bedroom walls, at home. 

the money you refuse to give back.

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he expected this. 

“of course.”

you let the silence settle between you, waiting for whatever lecture is coming, but he doesn’t scold you. instead, he leans in just slightly, dropping his voice.

“i’m keeping an eye on you.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“right. cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

jun-ho doesn’t react, his face unreadable. 

“considering this isn’t your first warning? yeah. i don’t.”

you push back in your chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor. 

“well, officer,” you say, tone sharp with sarcasm, “i look forward to our next meeting.”

jun-ho watches as you’re escorted out, his eyes following you even as you disappear down the hall.

weeks pass and you try to forget about the encounter, about the way his voice sounded when he said your name, about the way his dark eyes studied you like you were something worth understanding. 

you try to focus on surviving. 

you get a job… a shitty one, but one that pays enough to keep you afloat for now.

every now and then, when you step into a small café for breakfast, when you walk through the streets at night, when you’re with your only friend sae-byeok whispering about her crimes… he’s there.

jun-ho is never too far away, usually across the street or on the other side of a park.

he never does anything and he never speaks, but you see him, leaning against a wall, pretending to be busy with his phone, pretending to be on patrol. 

however, his eyes will always follow you.

one evening, you and sae-byeok finish a quick meal at a convenience store, standing outside by the flickering neon lights. she shoves her hands into her pockets, giving you a knowing look.

“that asshole is staring again.”

you sigh, glancing over.

jun-ho stands across the street, pretending he’s not looking directly at you.

sae-byeok chuckles under her breath. 

“he’s obsessed with you.”

“he’s a cop,” you mutter. 

“it’s his job to be annoying.”

she nudges your arm. 

“you should go say hi.”

“and what? tell him to fuck off?”

she grins. 

“exactly.”

you roll your eyes, watching as she walks off. 

once she’s gone, you take a deep breath and cross the street, closing the distance between you and jun-ho.

he looks up as you approach, not surprised.

“you’re a creep,” you say flatly.

jun-ho exhales through his nose, barely amused. 

“you’re a criminal.”

“not anymore.”

his brows lift slightly.

“really?”

“yeah,” you say, crossing your arms. 

“i found a job. so get off my back. i’m not stealing anymore.”

jun-ho hums, unconvinced. 

“that’s a trend for you.”

you glare at him. 

“what?”

he shrugs, “you get a job, hate the pay, then go back to stealing… sometimes from the same place you work at.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “you need a better hobby, i cannot live in your head rent free.”

“i have one,” he says, avoiding what you said last. 

“i’m just doing my job.”

you shake your head, stepping back. “whatever,” you mutter, turning on your heel and walking off. you know he won’t follow. he never does but somehow he’s always close.

overtime, maybe a week or so.. jun-ho never thought that he’d be the type of cop to get overly invested. not really. working for the police is his job…catching criminals, chasing leads, dealing with lowlifes who made their money through terrible means. he never let himself get too curious, never let himself care too much to where it affected his personal life.

however, you, you are a puzzle he can’t help but try to solve.

at first, it was just an annoyance. you had slipped through his fingers that night in hongdae, and that bruised his ego. he didn’t lose people, but somehow, you had outrun him. a girl whos shorter than him.

when he finally caught you, he had expected to feel satisfaction, but it never came because instead, he just felt intrigued.

now, you’re barely doing anything wrong. you’ve stayed out of trouble for a while, and he should be relieved. he should be happy. instead, he finds himself watching and observing because despite all the things you’ve done, despite the walls you keep up, there are cracks in that mask of yours… ones he never expected to see.

he sees it in the way you linger at the local market, the way your fingers brush over fresh fruit before you tuck them carefully into a paper bag, paying with what little money you have. he wonders why you never steal from here, why the vendors greet you with small nods instead of suspicion.

junho sees it in the alley behind the convenience store, where stray cats weave between your ankles, tails flicking in contentment as you crouch down to feed them scraps of tuna and unseasoned chicken. 

you don’t talk to them, don’t coo at them like most people would… but your hands are gentle, your touch careful, as if you’re afraid of breaking something fragile.

then, there’s the lemonade stand thing that happened yesterday afternoon.

jun-ho didn’t even mean to see it. he’s just in the police car, just patrolling, when he spots you across the street. there’s a kid that sis no older than ten standing behind a makeshift stand with a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of plastic cups. 

the sign is messy, written in thick, uneven strokes. 1,000 won per cup!

he watches as you pause, as you reach into your pocket, pulling out a crumpled bill.

you hand it to the boy.

you don’t take the over-sweetened lemonade. you just shove your hands in your pockets and walk away before the kid can even thank you.

jun-ho doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.

maybe it’s because it doesn’t fit the version of you he’s built in his head. the version that’s cold, calculating, selfish, and greedy. that version is wrong, isn’t it? a selfish person wouldn’t waste their own money on a kid just trying to make some change. 

a selfish person wouldn’t play with stray cats or make sure to buy expensive fruit instead of stealing it.

he doesn’t know what your story is, but he’s starting to understand that you are not heartless. reckless? yes. irresponsible? absolutely. not cruel. not fully empty like you try to seem.

that fact is becoming his problem.

he’s read your file. he knows more than he should. your past, the childhood neglect, the system that failed you over and over again. he’s seen it before with people turning bitter, turning desperate, because the world gave them nothing and expected them to make do.

he’s a police officer, not a superhero. he can’t fix that or fix you.

junho wishes you would just stop making stupid decisions. maybe if you did, maybe if you found a way out of this cycle.

maybe then, he could approach you differently.

maybe then, he wouldn’t just be watching.

see, you’re not stupid.

jun-ho might be a good cop, but he’s a shit liar.

he acts like he’s patrolling, like he’s just doing his job. you know better. he’s watching you nd keeping tabs on you. the man is always near, always somewhere in the background. does he have a wife? kids? maybe not, he is still on the younger side. maybe just five to seven years older than you. its clear that he is single with too much freetime.

maybe if you were the same person you were five years ago, soft, trusting, and hopeful, you would have been creeped out, even scared that a police officer was suspicious of you. 

now, it just makes you feel something you don’t want to name.

you know you haven’t stolen in weeks. you haven’t picked a pocket, scammed a dumb drunk, or lifted a wallet off a distracted tourist. that 1,200,000 won is keeping you stable… at least for now. long enough, hopefully, until jun-ho gets bored and moves on.

lately, the thought of him moving on, of him not watching you anymore, makes your chest feel tight because no one notices you. no one ever has in the large city of seoul.

your only friend, sae-byeok, even disappeared at times. 

throughout your whole life, you’ve been invisible to the people who should’ve cared, to the world that chewed you up and spat you out, to the strangers who walk past you every day without a second glance. 

jun-ho, that damn police officer, he sees you. even if he’s just doing it because he thinks you’ll screw up again, even if it’s nothing but routine for him, it still means something.

that pisses you off.

he’s annoying because he’s too attractive for his own good, because he gets under your skin in a way no one else does or has ever had.

so when you spot him across the street, writing up some guy for speeding, you don’t think and you just move.

you stand a few feet away and wait until he’s finished, watching as he hands over the ticket with that same unimpressed expression he always wears. when the guy finally drives off in frustration, you step forward, hands in your pockets, your voice laced with teasing amusement.

“well, it looks like you finally found something else to do besides watching me.”

jun-ho doesn’t even look surprised. just rolls his eyes as he slips his notepad back into his jacket. 

“trust me, you’re not that interesting.”

you smirk. 

“oh, really? then why are you always around?”

he exhales sharply, shaking his head. 

“coincidence.”

“bullshit.”

he huffs a laugh, crossing his arms. 

“you’re awfully confident for someone who’s one mistake away from getting arrested.”

you tilt your head, stepping a little closer, just enough to make it personal. 

“i haven’t stolen in weeks. you know that. so what’s your excuse, officer?”

jun-ho says nothing, just looks at you, unreadable. for a second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes… something not quite irritation, not quite amusement.

then he sighs, “go home, y/n. it's getting late.”

you grin, ignoring the way his voice sounds when he says your name. 

“whatever you say, officer.”

you step back, turning on your heel, but before you walk away, you glance over your shoulder.

“see you tomorrow.”

jun-ho doesn’t respond, but you don’t need him to because you both know the truth. i mean there were no plans but he is never too far away from you.

not even an hour later in the subway, you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, fingers gripping the red square piece of paper between your thumb and index finger. 

your palms sting, and faint imprints of the salesman’s hand still tingling against the skin on your face. the bastard had slapped you twice, only twice, but your pride felt more bruised than your face.

you should’ve walked away from the salesman who sat down next to you, you should’ve kept your head down, taken your money from the last round, and gone home. the moment he laughed at you, and told you that him and his “organization” knew everything about you, you knew that this was no coincidence. 

the salesman had handed you a small card before leaving the station, something he implied that would change your life. it was thin, a little worn at the edges, the symbols on the front simple but strange: a circle, a triangle, a square.

you flip it over.

a phone number.

“call when you’re ready for your chance,” the man had said, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.

you stare at the numbers, tapping the card against your palm as the subway car sways gently beneath your feet. 

something about it feels off. it’s too mysterious, too cryptic… but the promise of financial freedom? of something bigger?

you need that.

you close your eyes briefly, exhaling through your nose. you don’t know why, but in the back of your mind, you wish jun-ho had been there.

not to stop you, necessarily… but just to be there.

if he had been, maybe he would’ve told you to be careful. maybe he would’ve pulled you away from the salesman, away from whatever this was, away from another stupid decision.

however, jun-ho has his own problems.

across the city, jun-ho exhales sharply, staring at the thin card between his fingers. little did you know, he did have a life outside of work. junho’s mind is elsewhere, swirling with frustration, worry, and a growing sense of unease. 

inho, his older brother, his only family besides his mom, has been missing for weeks.

no leads. no clues. just gone. until now.

the man in front of him.. gi-hun, scruffy, desperate, looking defeated, tells junho that he made up a lie at the police station. a lie about a card that junho saw on his brother’s desk. 

“where did you get this?” jun-ho asks, his voice steady but demanding.

jun-ho remembers the card. a circle. triangle. square.

inho had this same card in his apartment before he vanished.

when gihun walks away, junho lets him but he does not give up. 

meanwhile, you sit in the subway car, flipping the card between your fingers, picking on the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

a few nights later, jun-ho knows that he shouldn’t be here outside.

it’s past midnight, and he should be going home after his shift, should be focusing on his brother, should be figuring out why gi-hun is connected to all of this. however, when he spots gi-hun walking down the empty street, he moves on instinct, following from a safe distance.

the thing is that he doesn’t expect to see you but there you are passing gi hun on the block, keeping your head down while walking down the quiet street.

you don’t see junho. you’re too busy walking, hands deep in your pockets, shoulders tense. at first, he assumes the worst… that you’re about to do something stupid, that you’re going back to your old habits, that you’ll make him chase you again.

he should leave you alone but junho can’t so he detours, shadowing you instead.

but then, you stop.

jun-ho narrows his eyes, staying low behind a parked car. you stand outside a small park, unmoving. your hands tighten in your pockets, and for a moment, it almost looks like you’re hesitating and then the van pulls up.

jun-ho stiffens, watching as you glance up, exhaling a breath before stepping forward. the door slides open and you climb in. three seconds later, smoke fills up the van’s windows. a thick, white, flooding the air.

jun-ho’s heart pounds. he watches as the van lingers for only a few seconds before pulling away, disappearing down the street.

“the hell?” he mutters under his breath, immediately making his way back to his car. the officers hands grip the wheel tightly as he follows, keeping a careful distance, headlights off. the man’s mind races… who the hell were these people? did you know them? were you in danger?

the van slows down five blocks later and and jun-ho’s stomach drops.

gi-hun, standing with the same look you had.

the van door slides open again, the same cloud of smoke spilling out into the night air.

gi-hun stumbles, barely reacting before he collapses, his body slumping forward.

jun-ho grips the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenching.

this wasn’t just some underground scam.

this was something else, something big, and now, he had to protect two people.

one… a man who might be his only lead to his missing brother.

the other… a woman who had no idea what kind of hell she was walking into.

three days later, your body is stiff, motionless, even as your mind screams at you to run. that is because you don’t belong here. you never did.

the deaths, the endless and ruthless deaths, should’ve broken you by now. however, you refuse to let it show. you refuse to let anyone see that you’re barely keeping yourself together, that your heart threatens to claw its way out of your chest every time a gunshot echoes through the air.

sae-byeok notices, though. she always does.

she ended up in these games. she is player 067, and you are player 404. luckily, sae byeok stays close, her presence grounding you, keeping you from slipping too far into your own head. you’ve survived red light, green light. you’ve survived dalgona, but surviving isn’t the same as living.

you exhale slowly, fists clenched as the guards flood into the dorms due to some sort of situation. their guns are raised, black masks concealing their faces. your eyes flick to sae-byeok, who remains perfectly still, her expression unreadable. 

beside you, gi-hun tenses.

a guard steps forward, voice sharp.

“do you know any player by the name of hwang in-ho?”

gi-hun shakes his head. 

“no.”

“w-we don’t use our names in here.”

he continues, 

however, your breath hitches, barely audible.

because that voice…

you turn your head, scanning the line of guards, your heart pounding against your ribs.

it’s stupid. so stupid.

you’re being paranoid. you’re in survival mode, and your mind is playing tricks on you.

jun-ho is not here.

for a second, just a second, your eyes lock onto the guard that was behind you. somehow, the guard doesn’t look away.

your throat tightens but it’s impossible.

stop thinking about jun-ho all the time. he is not here.

you force yourself to clear your thoughts, shaking your head slightly before looking away, pretending the moment never happened.

the guards stay for a few more minutes, checking something… you don’t know what, don’t care what… before they leave. 

however, you sit back down in exhaustion, hoping to get out of here soon. 

three more days go by and the air is thick with the stench of blood and rain.

your fingers twitch, your breathing shallow, but all you can do is stare. sang-woo’s body lies motionless in front of you, crimson pooling beneath him. dead. you should feel something. anything. relief, maybe. satisfaction. however, all you feel is rage. burning, searing rage.

sae-byeok should be here. sangwoo killed sae-byeok just a few hours before this moment.

sae-byeok should be standing beside you, should be breathing, should be alive.

the only person in your life is now gone.

now it’s just you and gi-hun.

you tighten your fists, nails digging into your palms as the finality of it all crashes down on you like a tidal wave. you won. you and gi-hun are the last ones standing. it doesn’t feel like a victory though, it feels like a punishment.

you don’t remember much after that.

it’s all a blur. the way the guards forced you into a van, blindfolded, hands tied. you barely even processed the moment they threw you back onto the cold pavement of the city, the impact sending a sharp ache through your ribs. you untie yourself quickly, fingers trembling slightly as you rip the blindfold off, blinking against the dim streetlights.

you’re back but not in those suffocating green jumpsuits, not in that godforsaken arena of death. you’re in your own clothes. the same ones you wore before stepping into that van all those days ago.

your breath comes out shaky as you pat yourself down, desperate for something, anything, that proves this wasn’t some fever dream, that you’re really standing here, that you made it out.

your fingers brush against something solid, metallic. your stomach twists. slowly, you pull it from your pocket. a gold card. your hands tremble as you stare at it. you already know what it means.

however, you have to see it with your own eyes. 

you take off running, feet pounding against the pavement as you sprint to the nearest ATM.

your heart is hammering in your chest when you shove the card into the machine, barely able to keep your hands steady. the screen loads, the numbers processing.

your breath catches.

balance: 22.8 billion won.

you sway on your feet, gripping the edge of the ATM, fingers white-knuckled.

you made it. you’re free since there is no more stealing, no more running, no more waking up every day wondering if you’ll make it to the next.

you won.

why does it feel so fucking hollow?

why does the sight of those numbers on the screen make your stomach churn instead of settle?

why do you feel like you lost more than you won?

you exhale, stepping away from the ATM, forcing yourself to straighten.

you have to keep moving.

you have to act normal because the moment you let this break you, the moment you let the cracks widen,  is the moment you really lose.

deep down, you know it.

things aren’t over yet.

more weeks go by and your apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. it’s the same. its the same same peeling wallpaper, same secondhand furniture, same dim lighting that flickers in the kitchen. however, you are different.

the streets outside are loud, too loud. car horns make you flinch, sudden shouts send ice down your spine, and every time you close your eyes, you see flashes of red. of green. of bodies hitting the ground. living in the city does not seem like a smart idea anymore.

however, you force yourself to settle back into your old routine. you buy fruit at the market. you feed the stray cats. you pretend everything is fine.

nothing is fine.

suddenly, a knock on your door brings back another old routine.

it’s light. soft.

you don’t flinch since it was so light but your heart pounds anyway.

you hesitate before opening the door, fingers gripping the handle tighter than necessary. when you see him standing there, alive, real,  your breath catches in your throat.

jun-ho.

for a moment, you just stare.

your chest tightens, your throat burns, and you feel dangerously close to crying. for weeks, you’ve convinced yourself that he moved on. that he never noticed you were gone and that he forgot you. he’s here.

junho’s eyes scan your face carefully, like he’s checking to see if you’re really okay.

“can i come in?” his voice is softer than you remember.

you nod quickly, stepping aside.

he enters, his presence filling the small space as you shut the door behind him. he doesn’t move much, just stands there, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on you.

“tea?” you offer, voice hoarse.

“water’s fine if you have any.”

you pour him a glass, setting it down in front of him before sitting across from him at your small table. the silence stretches between you both as you sit down in front of him at your table.

the weight of everything presses down on your chest.

“i was there, too.”

you freeze at his words.

jun-ho exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“on the island. i followed gi-hun. i was looking for my missing brother.”

your stomach twists, you did not know this much information about junho.

“you know gi-hun?”

he nods. 

“yeah. he led me there without realizing it.” he hesitates, eyes locking onto yours. 

he didn’t speak for a moment as you looked at him with curiosity, is he okay? was he a player? why didn’t you see him? how didn’t he get caught? 

“i pretending to be a guard. the circle one that you saw that day in the dorms. later on I got shot in my shoulder, but i am okay.” 

junho reassures. yet, you are not reassured. 

“i was looking out for you, too.”

your breath shudders.

he leans forward slightly. 

“when i saw you get in that van, i—” he stops, jaw tightening. 

“i thought i lost you.”

something inside you cracks.

you don’t know when the tears start. one second, you’re staring at him, trying to hold it together, and the next, your vision blurs, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. jun-ho doesn’t say anything, just watches, just listens, as everything you’ve been holding in breaks.

“i didn’t sign up for that,” you choke out, voice shaking. 

“i thought— i thought it was just games. just money. i just wanted to be able to stop what i used to do.”

junho’s expression darkens, but he says nothing.

you shake your head, wiping at your face. 

“they killed them. all of them. and i– i just stood there, i just..”

you gasp, a sob wrenching from your throat before you can stop it.

jun-ho moves before you can register it. one second, you’re falling apart and the next, his arms are around you, pulling you close.

you freeze since his warmth seeps into you, his steady breathing grounding you. junho’s grip is firm, solid, real. this is the first time since sae-byeok’s death that you don’t feel alone.

you clutch the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling tightly into the material as you let yourself feel. you cry for sae-byeok. for the people who didn’t make it. for the part of yourself that died on that island.

jun-ho holds you through all of it.

when your sobs quiet into shaky breaths, you whisper against his shoulder, “can you stay?”

he doesn’t hesitate.

“yeah,” he murmurs. “i’ll stay.”

he needs this just as much as you do.

when you finally pull back, your face is inches from his.

the officer’s hand lingers on your back, his breath warm against your cheek. junho’s eyes, dark, searching, soft, flicker down to your lips for only a second before meeting your gaze again.

your heart pounds, but this time, it’s not from fear.

the officer is now living with you, but he is different now.

something inside of him has shifted, cracked beyond repair.

after finding out that his own brother, the one he spent so long searching for, was the mastermind behind that place, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to his old life. to the force and to the law because what was the point?

this world was cruel but you already knew that.

he spends his days with you now. at first, it’s small things, late breakfasts, quiet conversations, accompanying each other to the store, sitting in the same room without speaking. suddenly, it becomes something more. something deeper because you grow close. too close.

neither of you say anything about it.

the tension between you simmers beneath the surface, heavy and waiting. it’s in the way jun-ho’s eyes linger on you when you’re not looking, in the way your fingers brush against his when you pass him something, in the way your body tenses whenever he gets too close, but you never pull away.

one night, it finally snaps.

you wake up crying.

your dreams, no, your memories, are suffocating. blood, screams, gunfire. your body shakes, your chest tightens, and you can’t breathe.

you force yourself out of bed, wiping your face as you shuffle toward the kitchen. maybe water will help. maybe the cold tile beneath your feet will ground you. however, as you step out into the hallway, you stop.

jun-ho stands in the hallway, shirt loose, hair messy, his face unreadable. it looks like he just step outside of his room as well.

he looks like he hasn’t slept.

“you okay?” his voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

you nod. a lie.

he exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“couldn’t sleep.”

you swallow. 

“me neither.”

silence.

suddenly, it snaps, something snaps.

you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his lips are on yours.

it’s not soft. it’s not careful. it’s desperate.

junho’s hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you clutch onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. the man’s mouth moves against yours with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid to let go.

this tension, this thing between you, it’s been there for so long, even before the games. before the world burned around you and now, it’s finally boiling over.

jun-ho backs you up, step by step, until your back hits the doorframe of your bedroom. junho’s breath is hot against your lips, his hands firm on your hips.

you don’t stop him because you don’t want to stop him.

junho’s lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower, deeper, like he’s memorizing the way you taste. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his abs as you pull him closer, and closer.

he groans softly against your mouth, and something about the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

you don’t even realize that your door opened until he’s guiding you backward, at least until your knees hit the bed.

your heart pounds, your breath shaky as his lips trail along your jaw, down to your neck, his hands never leaving your body.

you close your eyes, letting yourself drown in him, in this, in everything.

with junho, you realized this is where your nightmare ends. 

masterlist

[dr9com9ge-ix]

The 2nd bunch of sprunki designs c: More headcanons under the cut-

Also I may just tag this an an AU at this point (Also to maybe not step on any toes >-<; -) because man… Love coming up with the weird ass setting these guys are in which will probably be explained when I get to Mr. Sun’s design. But the short of it is they all live in an isolated little suburban town with a pretty small population (everyone knows each other to some extent.) and that there are other populations of Sprunkis and stuff such as large cities and rural villages.

OWAKCX

29 He/Him

- Was an accountant traveling to another city.

- Fell off a cliff near the town and sustained head and spinal injuries whilst on the phone. Vineria found him and took him into the town’s clinic to keep him from dying.

- Listed in the town’s documents as “OWAKCX” due to him unfortunately having difficulty speaking post-accident when asked what his name is. His speech has improved significantly since but has issues with volume control and a tic of making a loud startling sounds.

- His actual name is Ozwalt but accepted at this point that everyone calls him OWAKC. “Sure is a name” he says.

- Does not want to go back to the city he lives in due to how long he assumes he’s been gone. Most likely presumed dead.

- Clunkr and Garnold had made him his wheelchair. Said wheelchair can go very fast much to OWAKCX’s inital terror when first using it. Now he’s quite good at speeding across places (it took a bit.).

- Is a bit high strung and easily startled at times. Has bit someone in a panic before and apologized right after.

- Can get a bit snarky and sarcastic, joked about Raddy’s ability to hammer nails (Hits them too hard and they bend,) and got clocked in the head with the hammer he was using. He knows a bit better not to snark Raddy anymore.

- Lives with Vineria in her greenhouse/normal house, He helps her file her taxes and documents for free… Its repayment for literally saving his life. Everyone else has to pay him if they want him to do that for them, Mostly to keep his workload low and so nobody else asks.

- Chronically grits and grinds his teeth and shakes like a cold chihuahua even when under a blanket.

- Had an alt rock phase in high school that is slowly coming back…Not fashion wise but he is blasting it straight into his ears as he works.

Vineria

27 She/them

- Moved to the town because she wanted to have her own greenhouse to grow a variety of plants. Including weed

- Has gotten in trouble in her previous residence for seed bombing golf courses and smoking in her apartment.

- Very chill and laid back.

- Likes to climb trees and go on nature walks.

- Has tasted moss out of curiosity while watching over brud, has gone on record going “mhm not bad!” but tries to give him more normally edible plants.

- Naturally bald, used to just wear a beanie before her wigs.

- Found her first plant wig in the woods near town. Has been raising the same kinds of plants for her other plant wigs though the first one is her favorite and most worn.

- Helps out occasionally at the town clinic after she brought OWAKCX in, Mostly because she wanted to make sure she could check up on him while he recovered.

- Actually calls OWAKCX “Oz” instead as she knows his actual name.

- Has given plants and saplings to people as housewarming gifts.

brud

21 He/They

- Was once in foster care and a group home due to being abandoned, Had ran off when he had aged out of the system.

- Cannot feel pain, This had caused issues such as chewing his tongue to the point of it being a stub and scratching at himself without realizing he’s hurting himself. Has since been trying to be more careful and wears gloves and long sleeves over his hands to deter the picking and scratching.

- Can talk but not very clearly, Prefers to nod or shake his head or if really needed- To sign in sign language or write down what he wants to say. Also squeaks in excitement and whimpers when sad.

- Has terrible eyesight due to his eyes facing separate directions.

- Has a bucket over his sharp single horn to stop it from hurting other people and because he likes the bucket.

- Is a sort of permanent resident at the clinic due to his condition and tendency to get injured

- Hangs out with Simon the most out of the clinic staff. They’re besties.

- Likes earthy tastes which is why he eats moss sometimes.

- Gets mistaken for a child by newer residents.

- Loves to hug people and being hugged

Tunner

56 He/him

- The town’s sheriff who patrols around to help others, Likely gives new people tours. Did this as a hobby for a bit until he was officially given the role.

- Lives a bit farther in the outskirts, Likes his peace and quiet. This is also near Jevin and Sky’s caravan.

- Used to live in a desert town where he was a street performer who played the guitar and fended for himself until he could afford a gun and leave that place.

- Has an old horse named Cornbread who he rode into the town, she can be found grazing near his house.

- Very talkative, specifically loves telling stories about his adventures before he settled down though they tend to get long winded and embellished depending on whether or not he’s trying to make himself sound cooler/ Trying to impress someone. Jevin

- Has lost a tooth in a fight a long time ago and got a gold tooth to replace it. How he lost it in the fight changes every time he retells the story.

[zahri-melitor]

In terms of trying to transplant how Dick’s generation grew up to independent adult heroes onto Tim’s generation, one of the significant issues is that the two groups have very different backstories.

The Fab Five and their generation were largely cared for children with present guardians during their teen years. Their ‘growing up’ rebellion moments were about wanting to establish their own identities separate to their parent/guardian. Then once NTT occurred and new young adult characters were added to it, you had a bunch who were escaping overbearing guardians with expectations the young adult didn’t want to fulfil, and leaving trauma behind.

The Core Four and other 90s heroes, in contrast, were mostly latchkey kids. They had loving but absent parents and parental figures. They were largely expected to grow up and show they were independent in their early teens. The arcs of their stories were not about growing up and finding themselves and ‘be your own person’, but about learning to trust others and interdependency and working together.

Like the shape of a Fab Five story is ‘in my preteens or earlier a Disaster Happened and I was taken in by a hero who cared for me and taught me the business as their sidekick. Then around 18-20 I moved out to live in a sharehouse with my friends as I wanted to find who I was outside of the shadow of being a sidekick’.

While…Tim’s generation largely aren’t sidekicks in the same sense. The shape of THEIR stories are of ‘teenager with largely absent adults is expected to grow up and show emotional maturity too early’. It’s actually notable that Tim, Kon and Bart all have long term story arcs that involve gaining a stable household right near the end.

Kon’s entire solo is the story of how he is neglected and exploited by every adult around him. He doesn’t have parents. He’s Peter Pan, the little boy who cannot grow up, who lives without parental expectation. He’s a celebrity kid exploited by Rex Leech and by CADMUS, who’s expected by those around him to act in an adult manner and held to that standard while simultaneously specifically being underage and not having the right to make his own decisions. His final arc in Superboy is about being so abandoned he doesn’t even have CADMUS to depend on anymore so he has to find an apartment and a job (the building superintendent) and is expected to act and function like an adult in that position. Superboy #59 (FIFTY NINE) is when Kon finally gets his own name. Superboy #100 is ABOUT Kon moving in with Jonathan and Martha Kent and finally having a stable home environment where he can be a child. Heck Kon’s already had a story where he’s ‘married’ and responsible for a kid. He’s had solo space adventures.

Bart’s solo is about Bart and Max learning to be a family together, but also: Bart’s childhood didn’t contain parents. Meloni turns up occasionally through his solo and loves him but also has to disappear away back to the 30th century at the end of each appearance. The final arc of Bart’s solo is about him moving in with Jay and Joan Garrick for more stability, because Max has disappeared (and stays disappeared). And then, post his solo, Bart even already has HAD an arc where he had to grow up and assume the Flash mantle (which went horribly wrong and led to his death).

Tim? Tim’s entire solo is about upheaval and change. The first time he’s expected to behave as an independent hero, not a sidekick, is literally Robin #1 when Azbats kicks him out of the Cave. Jack threatens to send him away to boarding school on multiple occasions and DOES for the Brentwood arc. He loses Jack, he loses Dana, he moves out to be a hero caring for his own city at 16, in Bludhaven post War Games. Bruce’s adoption of Tim was all about giving him back that sense of stability and support so that Tim had people backing him up again in his personal life and not only as a hero. And then he does the ‘leave and get a new identity’ thing during Red Robin.

And Cassie? Cassie starts with a loving mother and her story arc over becoming a hero is about periods of operating on her own. She moves away from her mum to go to Elias School. Due to operating as a hero under her own name she eventually has to come up with the alias of Drusilla Priam to give herself a non-public identity to retreat to (and isn’t living with Helena Sandsmark but renting on her own during this period to protect Helena).

This is a set of characters for whom it makes no narrative sense to tell a story of them growing up by ‘moving out and finding their own identity as separate heroes’ because their entire PAST is about being alone and looking for connections and people to rely upon. They haven’t been looking for their mentors to accept them as independent adults, they’ve been looking to their mentors to be present and work with them.

They have already all BEEN through the steps of moving out (while underage) and learning to look after themselves as nobody else was there to support them. Growing up for them is about learning to trust and be respected for the skills they already have and trusted to know what they’re doing, rather than leaving to show they can operate independently.

And that’s a harder narrative to show, because it’s a less common growth story in our culture. But in the Core Four’s case, I’d argue a lot of the traditional signifiers of adulthood (moving out; moving away for education; taking responsibility for a city on their own; travelling for quests) are things they were already expected to do while still significantly underage, and so sending them through that plot again isn’t showing anything new to allow them growth. What they need is the adults around them to treat them as adults for the things they already can and do do.

[sunrisecaminus]

So I saw your thing with guardian breakdown but what if his little human friend ended up befriending Miko cause honestly I vibe with that kid and she seems delightful like reader straight up becomes like Miko's cool older sibling but unfortunately their guardians DO NOT LIKE EACH OTHER oh the chaos I really hope you do this the potential

Message - Perfect, down to the last molecule-

Guardian Breakdown x Reader SFW

Summary - You and Miko have to face both your mech friends battling...while also arguing about the war and politics. Will the friendship end?!

Warning - Violence

Grabbing some chocolates and caramel drops at the gas station, you pop out and walk down the street. Today was the day you see your curious little friend again, Miko. Being her friend was fun, but this might have been the only timeline y'all had met. It was such a coincidence to meet her at the monster truck show, watching her run from security because she didn't have a ticket to come in. You grabbed her and forced her to sit with you in the crowd, watching as the guards run past. Ever since, both of you have talked and had the best time of your lives. She was quite younger than you so it was more like a mother daughter relationship. You pick her up from school and take her home whenever she needed, letting her eat food at your house when she doesn't have enough money or if her grandparents forgot about giving her anything.

Her family life was so complicated, it was something Miko never liked to talk about, but she loved to spend time with you and be able to live in someone else's life. You work a job that gave you a very comfortable living situation so it wasn't a problem to get her anything she needed.

Going over to the school, you text that you are in the exact same spot as last time in the parking lot to pick her up. Today she said her grandparents were on vacation, while her "friends" were out doing stuff. Speaking of which, Miko never talked about her friends ever. It was something you have tried to talk to her about, but she said she couldn't tell you anything, specifically for your safety. It made you wonder if she was either faking having friends, or if she had joined a gang and couldn't get out of it. Nevada is not known for gangs, but it wasn't uncommon to see a few of them every now and again from the big cities. Jasper was right next to a huge city so it was kind of normal to see a few gang members zoom past or get some stuff.

You didn't give a single fuck about your safety. Known by all in Jasper as either a calming presence, or people just thought you were suicidal. What they don't know is that you are just like this because you were friends with a few robotic aliens that made you not really fear anything human related. A car accident? Nothing compared to the ship almost exploding and making you terrify for you life and the others. Getting robbed? Not as bad as the time you almost got kidnapped by the Autobots because they wanted to "save" you or something. You don't care about the politics of the Cybertronians, but you do care about Breakdown. He was the bot that got real attached to you after you helped him hide from a bunch of government agents. It was rough, but you both stuck together like glue and have been family for a few years now. Actually the reason you meeting Miko was such a coincidence, was because you only went to the show to record it all. Breakdown really wanted to watch it, but y'all don't have a TV on the ship so you gave him the recording by his com link. You didn't say anything about Miko, knowing Cybertronians don't really give a shit about human relationships.

The school ends with the bell ringing, the kids all busting out of their classes and running straight to the door. You see the doors opening and slamming on the wall as hundreds of children leave their horrible prison. Miko was one of the last ones, leaving with two boys that you recognize as Ralph and Jack. You wonder why these kids were friends with Miko. Both of them ride in rich ass vehicle, one is a blue futuristic motorcycle, while the other has a shiny yellow race car. Miko isn't in a rich family, and the only rich kids you know are pompous a-holes. She sees your car and runs up, getting in the passenger seat. "Y/n!!! School was boring!" Giggling from Miko's reaction, you give her the bag of caramel and chocolate, turning your car back on to the road. "Well, seems those kids seem to keep you company." Miko smiles, looking out the window and eating her little snack.

You get a text from Breakdown, being told that he has to pick you up quickly because Megatron needs you is a quick meeting with Soundwave about Jasper's layout or some bullshit. Sighing from not being able to hang out with Miko, you turn on a street to go to Miko's house. She sees what street you were driving on and perked up. "So soon?" Looking at her just for a quick second and looking back at the road, you nod. "Yeah sorry honey, I just need to do some extra shifts at work today. I'm happy to be able to even drop you home for you." Stopping the car, Miko gets out of the vehicle and stares at you. "You are so lame…but if it's for you to buy me snacks than ok." She gives you a wink and turns around to her house. You say goodbye with a chuckle and leaves, what you don't see is Miko turning back to watch you leave with a smirk. "There is more to you than you lead me to huh?"

Driving over to a giant empty parking lot, you stop in front of a blue car that towers your car. Opening the door, you get out while Breakdown transforms into his normal form. "Were you followed?" You smile and scoff jokingly. "You think of me so lowly. Am I still just a human to you?" Breakdown smiles and kneels, taking you into his servos. "You know I didn't mean that. I was just worried from seeing a few Autobots in the area." That statement got you into a serious stance. You never wanted to be kidnapped again, so knowing that those guys are around you is a bit troubling to say the very least. "I just dropped a friend off at her house, nothing more nothing less." Breakdown understands and nods, putting your body on top of his shoulder to walk back to the ship.

Just as you both were about to talk about your mornings, yelling is heard on the right and Breakdown looks over. He sees a familiar face as a truck is hurling towards him. "BREAKDOWN! Place the human down!" Breakdown dodges the best he could from the surprise attack and quickly placed you on the ground. You back away slowly and try to get behind your car as to not be seen. Breakdown growls and gets in a fighting stance, watching as Bulkhead puts his servos together and runs towards him. You can tell that he was not under orders because he went for violence first, usually those Autobots trying to reason with first. Looking around the area for an escape you see Miko behind a tree, watching the whole thing. Your eyes widen and run to her, taking her into your arms. "Miko?! What are you doing here?!" Miko gasps from your surprise hug and pushes you away. "What are YOU doing here?! You said you were going to work! And why are you with Breakdown?!" You opened your mouth to answer, but than you load exactly what she just said to you. Did she say Breakdowns name like she knew him?! What the hell is going on! "First of all, how do you know Breakdown?" Miko than looked like she said something she wasn't suppose to say as you continue. "Second, why are you not at your house?! Your grandparents are home and are probably worried sick about where you are!" She looks at the fight and back at you. Her hands clench into fists. "My grandparents don't give a flying fuck on where I am and you know that! And…Breakdown is a crazy maniac from the Decepticons! You didn't answer my question!"

You put your hands in your face and give a disappointed sigh. "He isn't a maniac…he is right now just trying to defend himself from Bulkhead. He came out of no where and attacked us! Also I know him from a few years ago. We see each other like friends. Now you got to go or the Autobots try to kidnap you too!" Miko gasps and shakes her head. "I am an Autobot, Y/n! You are a Decepticon?! How could you?" Before you could yell at her, the tree in front of you gets destroyed by Breakdown being thrown. Miko is pushed back from the impact and falls backwards. She lands right next to a gaping ditch and is about to fall into it, until you grab her by the hand and drag her away from the horrible fall. "No more questions! I don't care about this "Autobot" or "Decepticon" shit! You are my priority and need to stay safe! You are not apart of this robot war and need to get out of here before you get yourself anymore hurt!" Miko listens with wide eyes as you basically yell at her. "Breakdown saved me and I have saved him before many times. He knows I am not apart of this and don't desire to help! You should be the same or you might die! Do you want to die Miko?!" She shakes her head quickly, watching your face get even more angry. "Really?! Because all I see is a reckless child! I almost saw you almost fall and you don't even seem to care about it! I am not letting one of my only friends lose themselves over some stupid WAR!" You stop as you see tears form from Miko's eyes. Your brain go blank and realize you have been yelling at what is basically a middle schooler. You relax yourself and just hug Miko in a tight embrace. She hugs you back and cries through her words. "I don't want to die, Y/n! I really don't! I just want to be there for my friends! Bulkhead is everything and I don't want him to be hurt!" Sighing from her jumbled up words, you wipe her tears with your sleeves and grab her purse so she doesn't have to carry it. "Well, if I know the Autobots well enough. I think Bulkhead would be in more trouble if he figured out you got hurt from the attack. Don't you ever do that again…" You pick her up in a piggy back like hold and let her arms go around your chest.

Branches fly as the two bots are wrestling each other, giving you more of a reason to be angry. If they don't stop fighting, then more people could get hurt and than humans would find out about them. Miko looks at them as well and sniffles. "…Please make them stop, I want to go home." That gave you enough to straighten your back and clench your teeth. If Miko wants them to stop, than you will gladly make them stop their stupid horsing. Your shoes dig into the grass as you puff your chest out, ready to give them a mouth full. "HEY IDIOTS!" Breakdown of course stops first, looking at you. He had an angry look to his facial expressions, but than gives you a soft look of worry. He sees Bulkhead not listening and about to swing at him, so he grabs Breakdown by the arm and slams him to the ground. "What happened, Y/n? You hurt?" Bulkhead realizes what was going on and looks up at you holding a very distressed Miko with tears pouring down her face. That was when he started to relax his frame and listen. "Both of you are doing nothing but fighting like wild scraplets! Miko almost might've gotten a broken bone and y'all are not even watching where you are swinging! Me or her would be going to the hospital if someone got seriously unlucky!" Breakdown looks to the ground, knowing he is in serious trouble and lets go of Bulkhead, making the green mech look at him in shock. Miko taps you on the shoulder to motion she wants down. You do so and watches Miko run to Bulkhead and hug him on the face. "Let's go home, please?" Bulkhead softens his look as well, taking her by his servo and hoisting himself up, he looks over at you and gives a untrusting look. Knowing you are connected to the Decepticons isn't a good look for you, but caring about Miko is now giving Bulkhead some suspicions about what you really are and what your motivations are. He transforms and leaves with Miko in the car. Miko turns around in the car to see you for the last time today, waving goodbye. You give her a wave back with a smile and turn right back around to Breakdown. He looks at you and bows his head a little. "I am sorry, Y/n. I didn't know-" You interrupted him with a pat on the ped and shake your head. "Oh the screaming was mostly for that moss colored mech, you aren't in trouble." Breakdown looks up at you with shock, but then smiles. He transforms into his vehicle mode and lets you in the front seat. You hop in and finally relax. "So…you were saying about Starscream?"

[what-even-is-thiss]

You post a decent amount about the various elder scrolls games. (Respected)

As someone who has never played them but loves rpgs and has always wanted to get into this series, which game would you suggest for a starting point?

I think it depends on your personal preferences. I’ll just give you my opinions about why you might like each one and let you decide. Very very long infodump incoming.

The early two games, Arena and Daggerfall, are really hard to use if you’re used to modern controls and might not work on modern operating systems well. However, if you’re one of those people who’s really into 90s computer dungeon crawlers that require reading a textbook length manual you’ll probably like them. They take a lot of inspiration from dnd and constantly use invisible dice rolls when it comes to stuff like damage and hit chance and you’ve gotta be careful about building your character. I’d suggest looking up a guide, even.

These games have a campy sexy pixelated dungeons and dragons feel to them. Plot isn’t super important in these games but Arena’s plot revolves around gathering the parts of a broken staff to defeat a wizard. Daggerfall’s plot has more to do with political intrigue and deciding which faction you think is better. Neither of these games have much of a plot when it comes to guilds and factions. Daggerfall does have randomly generated guild quests you can do but there’s almost no plot to them.

Morrowind is far more user friendly but it’s still kinda hard to grasp if you’re more used to modern games. There’s a dice roll mechanic on attacks and if you don’t build your character correctly you’re sort of screwed. You can learn to get good at the game though and it has a pretty compelling story in my opinion. This is the one right before they started doing full voice acting so it involves quite a bit of reading. There’s also no fast travel. You need to pay for transportation in universe with currency. There’s also no quest markets and you need to follow directions given to you by NPCs. Some people like that though.

The vibe of Morrowind is like very overcast and foggy and muggy. Kind of European inspired, kind of Asian inspired. There’s giant insects and a lot of ash everywhere from volcano storms. They do a lot with what few polygons they have. The plot has to do with a prophecy that you’re caught up in and the political implications of it. Morrowind is ruled by a trio of living gods and you are the one prophesied to bring their downfall. Guild quests have way more of a plot than Daggerfall in that they sort of have a plot but they tend to be pretty formulaic. My favorite of the bunch is probably the thieves guild because you get to sort of cosplay as Robinhood for a bit due to a plot point that barely makes sense. The DLC for this game is a treat. You get a big city and a snowy island to explore. There’s werewolves and goblins and a weird drug addict.

Oblivion is my personal favorite and it’s the goofiest elder scrolls game by far. The ragdolls are hilarious and the NPCs are programmed to have randomly generated conversations with each other throughout the day which are sometimes interesting but usually don’t make sense. The random chance mechanics are gone but stats like strength and the importance of building your character correctly are still there. Oblivion is still a bit outdated but it’s more user friendly than Morrowind. It also retains some customizable elements like multiple enchanting pieces and spell making from the old games without being so huge as to be overwhelming. The thing people often don’t like about oblivion is the level scaling of enemies and the graphics. Personally I think the graphics are charming but some folks don’t like the potato face low polygon look that everybody has. And as for the level scaling, well, unless you wanna look up in depth how to level optimally, probably just don’t level past level 20 on your first playthrough and don’t worry about it too hard. Maybe use some skills that aren’t in your major skills sometimes. Turn the difficulty down if you need to. You’ll be fine. It’s not that complicated but also don’t be a hero. Turn the difficulty down if you need to.

Oblivion has like a Mediterranean vibe. It’s bright and colorful and is sort of stylized like you’ve stepped into a landscape painting. It’s like a late medieval Italian countryside with some ominous Roman ruins hanging around. Cyrodiil is also a very diverse Provence in universe with it being centrally located and also the seat of power for the empire. It probably has the most diversity in types of NPCs of any other game in the series because of this. The main plot starts with you witnessing the emperor being assassinated as he’s escaping through your prison cell and you need to go find his one surviving son but as you go to find him, portals to oblivion, which is sort of like Hell but also not, start opening up all over the place and you need to start working with the new emperor to figure out how to close the oblivion gates and stop an invasion of the material plane.

The guild quests in oblivion are where faction quests actually get good. This is also the only game in the series where you can fight to death in a gladiator arena despite that concept being what set off the idea for the entire series. The dark brotherhood assassins guild is one of the best in the whole series and in the mages guild questline you get to fight a secret cult of necromancers. The DLC is also quite fun. Meet the god of madness and fight a demon in the sky.

So, Skyrim. Skyrim is most people’s introduction for the series and for good reason. It drops some of the RPG elements and customization from the previous games but it’s by far the most user friendly. You can use both hands, there’s a unique shouts and powers mechanic, you can be a werewolf, the leveling system is way improved from previous games (no more having to plan out your character), you can fight dragons, and although the elder scrolls series has always been about wandering the world and getting distracted, Skyrim perfects this aspect of it. The world is somehow simultaneously vast and dense which is an incredible feat. You will get distracted and that’s the whole point.

The vibe of Skyrim is far north. Scandinavia at its harshest. It’s got dense forests, tundras, steep cliffs, rivers, and snow. It’s a land of myths that are not only real but lying in wait to tear you limb from limb. It’s also gorgeous. You can wander around and watch the moons rise, watch an aurora borealis, see unique styles of architecture in each city, look at wood and stone carvings. The ghosts feel both ethereal and solid. The world is worn and comfortably lived in. A blunt instrument as well as a sharp object.

The plot of Skyrim is that there’s a civil war going on. Choosing between staying with the empire or becoming independent. However, just as it looks like the war is about to end and the rebel leaders are about to be beheaded, a dragon shows up for the first time in thousands of years. You’re a prisoner that manages to escape in the chaos and you get caught up in discovering the reason the dragons are coming back and you can pick sides (or not) in the escalating civil war. The guild and faction quests in Skyrim are decent. There’s werewolves, menacing orbs, holy keys. The DLC is where Skyrim’s side adventures really shine though in my opinion. Evil Dragonborns, vampire hunters, trekking through oblivion and the afterlife, discovering lost civilizations. Skyrim’s DLCs also have some of the best characters in the series.

So. Sorry for info dumping that much lol. Hope some of that information is useful. If you just want an easy starting point, pick oblivion or Skyrim. If you want a more customizable start point with a bigger initial learning curve, start with Morrowind. If you like fighting with early 90s computer games you might be the type to prefer arena or Daggerfall.

I really hope you enjoy the series! It’s one of my favorite things in the whole world if you couldn’t tell by my adhd rambling lol

[wholoveseggs]

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

[madlori]

there are a lot of headcanons about tommy becoming resentful of the time buck spends with eddie, but give me the reverse. give me eddie resentful of the time buck spends with tommy.

eddie's alone and sad with chris gone. both buck and tommy, together and individually, try to do things with him and be there for him but sometimes they actually do want to be alone together, and eddie just...can't seem to stop getting in the way. he invites himself along to stuff. he asks if he can come hang out when they're having a night at home together. he takes up their free evenings with obsessively making plans so he can avoid being alone in his house and they're just starting to get worn down.

eventually buck has to sit him down and say, eddie, my man, my dude, you're family to me, i care about you so much, so does tommy, but for the love of all that's holy please understand that sometimes i need to be alone with my boyfriend.

and eddie is embarrassed that he's been so clingy but also low-key hates that they have this relationship with each other that doesn't include him. he's happy that buck's found the love he always yearned for and deserved, but he can't stop feeling hurt and left out and there's just no way to make it better.

so what does he do? does he stay resentful and let it fester until it becomes anger and it ruins his friendship with buck?

maybe at one point he would have done that. but this time...this time he recognizes the path he's on and decides to take action to not let that happen. buck is too important to him. he has to find a way to occupy himself without relying soley on buck.

so he joins a boxing gym that nobody else goes to and starts working out there. he makes a friend who's also dealing with loneliness.

he starts volunteering on off-shift mornings at a botanical garden and finds that digging in the dirt and getting sweaty and dirty is very therapeutic. after a few weeks, some of the other volunteers invite him to come to brunch after their shift.

he discovers the LAFD Discord and that it has a whole bunch of sub-groups where first responders from all over the city get together for activities. he joins the golf group. he joins the cooking group. he goes on an axe-throwing outing.

he makes other friends.

there are no other friends like Buck. there will never be another friend like Buck. but there are people he can spend time with now, and give Buck a break so he can spend time with Tommy and also just have time to himself.

buck still brings dinner over once a week. he takes eddie on hikes. he and tommy fly him to san diego for the day and they go to the beach. but eddie also goes golfing with the LAFD Discord club. He goes to Station 133, which has the nicest kitchen in the LAFD, for the cooking club and learns some new recipes.

He has brunch with Chim and Maddie. He and Hen take Mara and Denny to mini-golf. He helps Bobby do DIY work on their new home to bring the kitchen up to his standards.

He learns to live without Chris. He learns to have support that doesn't entirely revolve around Buck. He watches Buck and Tommy get more and more serious, but now he's not resentful or scared - he's only happy, to see his best friend so happy. When they move in together, the three of them spend the first night Buck lives with Tommy eating pizza, drinking beer and watching baseball on TV.

And the first time Buck and Tommy ask him to come on a hike with them, and he has to decline because he has other plans, he's relieved, because they still want him around. They still want to be his friend. He hasn't worn them down.

He will always need Buck, he will alway love him. But he knew it wasn't fair to make Buck his entire support system...so he built a bigger one, and it's big enough to support them all.

When Chris facetimes him, he notices that his dad is looking less despondent. he has things to talk about, like the botanical garden and Bobby and Athena's new house and the firepit he's helping Buck build in Tommy's backyard. He's more open and honest. He doesn't sound so desperate. So Chris says he wants to come home, and when he does, Eddie's just happy he's back. Not desperate, not resentful or angry. And he has these new friends.

One of those new friends is another volunteer at the botanical gardens. she's a trauma nurse and does gardening to help her cope. eddie suggests she might like to try boxing as exercise, and she loves it. she is invited to a firefam BBQ at Buck and Tommy's house, and chris can't help but notice that she looks at his dad like he's really something -- and he's looking back the same way.

and if Chris had been worried that his time away would have hurt his dad, or made him sadder -- which he definitely didn't worry about, totally didn't, never at all -- he's not worried about that anymore.