#and goddammit he’s trying. he’s trying

[onlyforwoosan]

Wicked, Wild, and Yours— ℧

Pairing: Choi San (Outlaw Hunter!AU) × Female Outlaw Reader (Enemies to Obsession)

Wordcount: 4.8k

Synopsis: You’re a wanted outlaw. He’s the bounty hunter sent to catch you — but San doesn’t want the reward. He wants you. One chase, one fight, and one night where he makes sure you never run again.

Genre: Smut, Dark Western Romance, Enemies to Lust to Something Else, Outlaw Hunter!AU

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Rough sex, Dominant behavior, Gun violence, Knife use, Blood, Hair pulling, Dirty talk (degrading & possessive), Overstimulation, Handcuffs, Emotionally charged tension, Light gore (during fight scenes), Power play (consensual)

The night was quiet—too quiet for your liking.

The bar was mostly dead, except for the usual drunks and card players who were too broke to leave. Oil lamps flickered across creaky floorboards, casting a soft golden light over the worn mahogany bar. You wiped down the same glass for the fifth time, listening to the low hum of murmured conversation and the occasional thump of boots on wood.

Then you heard him.

The sharp clack of spurs hitting the porch. The heavy sound of a man who walked like he owned the dirt beneath his feet. You turned your head just in time to see him tie up his horse, one hand adjusting the brim of his dark hat, the other resting near the holster on his hip like it belonged there.

And then he walked in.

Choi San.

You froze.

Your breath caught, fingers locking around the glass as he strolled through the doorway. The man was sin carved in leather and bone, his coat swaying behind him like the wings of death itself. He waved to a few folks who recognized him—either too stupid or too scared to avoid his gaze. A hunter. The kind of man people whispered about in other outlaw camps. The kind who didn't take prisoners.

You'd seen posters of him before. "Bounty hunter. Ruthless. Gets the job done."  You thought he looked dangerous in the sketches.

But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Your heart pounded harder than it should’ve. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or... something worse.

He didn’t glance at anyone else. Just walked right up to the bar and sat down directly in front of you. When he finally looked up, straight into your eyes—it was like he was already aiming.

"Evenin'," he said smoothly.

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Evenin’.”  He tipped his head slightly, giving you a once-over that was anything but subtle. “You new in town?”

You kept your tone neutral, your face still. “Been around.”

“Hm.” His eyes flickered with interest. “You don’t sound local.”

You shrugged. “A lotta folks ain’t.” 

He smiled then—slow, deliberate, and just shy of cocky. “Fair enough. Whiskey. Neat.”

You turned your back to pour the drink, your hands moving automatically. But your mind was racing. What the fuck is he doing here?

Choi San didn’t just wander into towns like this. He hunted—tracked people down, flushed them out. The kind of man who didn’t ask questions unless he already knew the answers.

And you... were most definitely on someone's list.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it felt like your lungs were trying to crawl up your throat. He couldn’t possibly know who you were, right? You’d changed your hair. Wore different clothes. You were careful, goddammit.

But not careful enough.

You’d been caught once. Only once. That was all it took to get your face on a poster. And San? He didn’t miss.

You brought the drink over and set it down in front of him. “Here.” He took a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“Y’know,” he said slowly, “I’ve seen a lotta faces. Yours… looks mighty familiar.”

Your throat dried up. “Do it?” you managed. He nodded, eyes sharp now. “Mm. Got one of those looks. Dangerous. Pretty.”

You flushed—goddammit, get a grip—and quickly glanced away, pretending to busy yourself with the bar rag.

“Where’d you say you were from again?” he added, voice light but laced with meaning.

“I didn’t.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Feisty.”

You forced a polite smile, muttered something about checking stock, and excused yourself to the back.

The saloon’s back room was hazy with smoke and dust. You slipped in, shutting the door behind you, your chest rising and falling fast. “Haechan!” you hissed.

Your partner in crime—both literally and figuratively—was leaned against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips and a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing you. “What crawled up your—”

“San’s here.”

That made him freeze… He took the cigarette out of his mouth slowly. “The bounty hunter?”

You nodded. “He’s at the bar. He looked right at me. I think he knows.”

Haechan cursed under his breath. “You said he was on the other side of the territory. How the hell did he find us this fast?”

“I don’t know! Maybe someone ratted, maybe I slipped up.” You grabbed your head. “God, Haechan—he’s gonna kill me. You’ve heard what he does.”

He studied you for a second, serious now. “Then don’t give him the chance. Get out. Go out the back, take the alley, and run.”

You hesitated. “We said no splitting up.”

“We also said don’t get caught,” he shot back. “You’re the one they have posters of. You got made. I didn’t. I’ll cover for you if I can, but you’ve gotta move.”

You peeked through the crack in the door. San was still at the bar. Still watching. Like he knew. He lifted his glass and took a slow sip—then winked at you.

Your stomach dropped. Haechan stepped closer. “Go. Now.” You turned, breath shaky, every instinct screaming to bolt. But something held you there. Fear? Curiosity? Or the heat that still lingered in your skin from the way his eyes had trailed over you?

No. You had to focus. You straightened your spine, took one last look at Haechan, and pushed back through the door.

Back at the bar, San looked completely at ease, fingers tapping against the rim of his glass. You swallowed hard and approached. “Sorry about that. Had to check something.”

“All good,” he replied smoothly. “We were just getting to the fun part anyway.”

You arched a brow. “Fun part?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “The part where you tell me your name. The real one.”

Your blood turned cold.

You stared at him, trying to find something casual to say, some smart remark, but your mouth wouldn’t move.. He smirked and reached into his coat. That was all it took… You bolted.

You didn’t wait to see what he was reaching for—gun, badge, poster—you weren’t about to find out. You shoved through the back door, hit the alley running, heart pounding, boots skidding across the dirt. You vaulted over a crate, ducked under a fence, and disappeared into the night.

Behind you, you heard the door slam open and a voice shout, “Shit—!”

You didn’t look back.

By the time San got to the alley, the only thing left was the echo of your boots and the swirling dust in the wind.

He stood there for a moment, glaring into the dark.

Then he smiled.

“She’s fast,” he muttered, already mounting his horse. “But not fast enough.”

Three days had passed since you vanished into the night, slipping through San’s fingers like smoke.

Three fucking days.

He wasn’t used to people getting away—especially not pretty little things who blushed under his stare and ran before he could even finish his sentence.

Now, the hunter was the one being haunted.

San rode through the outskirts of the dusty town under the silver sheen of moonlight. His horse’s hooves beat a steady rhythm against the dirt trail, a low wind stirring the brush. He had one hand on the reins, the other holding a small, battered communicator—cheap tech smuggled in from an old mining town. Outlaws didn’t trust satellites, but he and Woo had their ways.

“You still on her trail?” Wooyoung’s voice crackled through the speaker.

San sighed. “Yeah. She’s hiding good.”

“No shit. You let her run, remember?” San scowled at his best friend's comment. “She was fast.”

“She was hot,” Woo corrected, laughing.

San didn’t say anything. “Oh my god,” Wooyoung continued, smug as hell. “You do think she’s hot.”

“I said she was fast.”

“You said she was cute first. Then fast.”

There was a pause. San sighed again. “She was cute,” he admitted under his breath, just loud enough for Wooyoung to hear.

“Bro.” Wooyoung practically screamed. “Are you catching feelings for a felon?”

“She’s not just a felon,” San said. “She’s... wanted. Like—seriously wanted.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

San rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “I’m just saying... she’s interesting. I usually don’t remember faces. I can’t stop remembering hers.”

Woo whistled. “You gonna kill her?”

“...I don’t know yet.”

San hung up before Woo could answer. And then he heard it.

Voices—angry. Shouts. The sharp echo of a gunshot.

He clicked his tongue and pulled the reins, guiding his horse toward the source. A moment later, he spotted movement ahead.

A fight. No—a brawl.

Three figures. You, some guy beside you—firing back-to-back—and a third, dressed in outlaw hunter gear. The third was large, bleeding from the shoulder, but still charging.

You.

San’s stomach flipped. His hand went to the revolver at his side.

You had a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. Your lip was bleeding, dirt on your skin, your shirt torn at the shoulder. You looked fucking feral—cornered, animal-like, panting as you turned and stabbed the hunter in the side. He grunted and backhanded you hard enough to knock you against the rocks.

San didn’t think.

He jumped off the horse mid-gallop, landing hard and rolling once before rising with his gun already drawn.

Haechan noticed him first.

San caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes before the kid bolted, disappearing behind a cluster of crumbling mining shacks.

You—bloodied, dazed—shoved yourself up from the ground and screamed after him, “You fucking coward!”

And then you turned—and froze.

San stood there, silhouetted in moonlight, revolver drawn and pointed—not at you, but at the hunter who had just recovered and was turning back around.

The man squinted at San. “This ain’t your business, bounty—”

Bang.

San shot him in the thigh. Then again, in the shoulder. The man dropped, screaming.

You stood in stunned silence, barely able to breathe. Your ears were ringing, your head pounding. Blood dripped from your chin. You watched San approach you slowly, holstering his gun like nothing had happened.

You stumbled backward. “What the hell—”

He grabbed you by the wrist before you could bolt.

“Nope. Learned that trick last time.”

With a swift motion, he yanked a pair of worn steel cuffs from his belt and clink—latched one around your wrist. The other he clipped to a leather strap on his horse’s saddle nearby.

“What the fuck, San?!” you spat, struggling.

“You ran once. Not again.” His voice was low, sharp, like a blade gliding against skin.

You tried to pull away, but the chain only rattled. “You just killed him!”

“He was gonna kill you.”

“I had it under control—!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. pissed.

“Your face says otherwise,” San growled, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

His thumb brushed your split lip, slow, deliberate.

You winced—but didn’t pull away.

The tension between you thickened instantly, charged and volatile. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was firm. Commanding. The way he looked at you wasn’t like a hunter and prey—it was something darker. Needier.

“You alright?” he asked, quieter now. He was a little guilty from snarling at you.

You stared at him, stunned. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” His eyes flicked down to your mouth. “Just don’t want damaged goods.”

“Wow. Charming.”

He smirked and released your chin. He turned toward the hunter, who was now crawling away, blood trailing behind him. San didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his second pistol and walked right up behind the man.

“Please—” the hunter gasped.

Bang.

You flinched. The sound echoed through the hills, and then silence.

San returned to you calmly, like he’d just taken out the trash. You sat in stunned silence, chained to his fucking horse, blood on your lip, your stomach twisted.

He kneeled in front of you again, this time slower, his movements careful.

“Next time,” he murmured, “don’t get caught in the dark.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were outnumbered.”

“I had Haechan—”

“Your boyfriend, who ran?” San snorted. “Yeah. Real dependable.” 

You look disgusted. Haechan was most definitely not your boyfriend. He would never be. “Ew! He's my best friend!” You snapped back at him. He looked a little surprised but was kind of happy. Maybe he had a chance..

“My bad, Y/N…”

You glared at him, cheeks flushed with rage. How dare he even use your name? “You think you’re so much better than everyone else because you’ve got guns and a goddamn horse?”

He leaned in close. “No. I think I’m better because I don’t leave people behind.”

You stopped talking. The words hit something raw in you. Something unspoken. Maybe something you’d tried not to feel for years.

San rose, tugging gently on the chain that led to your wrist. “Let’s go.”

You scowled. “What, now?”

“Unless you’d rather sleep next to a corpse.”

You rolled your eyes but stood, dragging your feet. He helped you onto his horse roughly, but not painfully. One hand on your hip, another guiding your thigh up. You yelped when the saddle caught your bruised leg, and he smirked.

“Sensitive, huh?”

“Go to hell.”

“You first, sweetheart.”

He climbed up behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand firmly holding the reins, the other lightly resting on your waist.

“You don’t need to hold me like that,” you muttered.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Just don’t want you falling.”

And with that, he clicked the horse into motion.

The ride was brutal at first—every gallop jostled your aching body. You bit your lip to avoid making a sound, even as you bounced against him, your back slamming into his chest.

When he sped up suddenly, you let out a sharp gasp.

“Easy,” he chuckled. “Didn’t take you for the jumpy type.”

“I’m bleeding, you dick.”

“You’re alive,” he replied smoothly.

The wind picked up, cold and sharp, stinging the open cut on your lip. You winced, and he must’ve felt it.

“You sure you okay?” he asked.

“Why are you being nice?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. Just a bounty to you, huh?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, softer than before: “Not just.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glimpse him over your shoulder. His face was unreadable in the moonlight, but there was something in his eyes—something unsettling. Like, even he wasn’t sure what he meant.

You faced forward again, heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears The rest of the ride was silent. But you could feel him—every breath, every muscle shift, every time his gloved fingers brushed your waist or gripped the reins just a little tighter when you leaned back too far.

And worst of all?

You didn’t hate it.

The ride to San’s hideout was long, but the tension made it feel shorter.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t talk. And San didn’t offer explanations.

The horse slowed just before dawn, stopping at a secluded ranch tucked behind a dead patch of forest. Weather-worn fencing framed the property, and the barn looked half-collapsed. But the house—it was quiet, sturdy, and unsettlingly normal. Too normal for a man who just shot someone in the skull two hours ago.

San dismounted first, then helped you down—not with kindness, but with control.

His fingers didn’t linger, but his eyes did.

He pulled the chain on your cuff taut and led you up the porch. The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dim interior filled with dust, warm light, and weapons. Guns lined the walls in neat rows. A single table sat under a bare bulb, with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

No Wooyoung.

You noticed.

San locked the door behind you. “He’s gone,” he muttered. “Bar hopping. Or fucking someone. Or both.”

You didn’t say anything, but you did blush a little.. Fuck– you blushed a lot.

You just kept scanning the space, taking note of the exits. Of the heavy boots by the door. Of the butcher knife, half-cleaned in the sink.

San watched your eyes track everything. “Smart girl,” he said. “But don’t bother. You run, I’ll just find you again.”

You glared. “You cuffed me to a horse.”

He smirked. “You looked cute like that.”

You scowled, but before you could respond, he grabbed your arm and dragged you further inside, pushing you down into a wooden chair near the table. He crouched in front of you, eyes locked on yours, fingers gripping your chin again.

“Let’s try this again.”

You didn’t resist—but you didn’t look at him, either.

“I wanna know who you were working with. Names. Routes. Safehouses.”

You scoffed. “Like I’d give you shit.”

He tilted his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

He grinned slowly. “You’re not leaving here unless I say so.”

You bristled. But something in your stomach flipped again—something sharp and dangerous and unwanted. He’s insane, you thought. But then he said—

“You thirsty?”

You blinked.

“What?”

San stood and reached for a nearby jug of water. He poured some into a clean glass and set it down in front of you.

You stared at it, confused.

“What the fuck? You were just being an ass.”

He chuckled. “I was always being an ass. Doesn’t mean I won’t give you water.”

You didn’t trust it, but you were parched. You grabbed it and drank. The metal of your cuffs clicked as you shifted. San sat down across from you, one ankle propped over his knee. He watched you sip, then spoke casually.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. I should kill you. Would make my job easier.”

You tensed.

“But…” He leaned forward, eyes dragging over your body. “There’s another option.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What. A deal?” 

He smiled darkly. “No. A punishment.”

Your heart jumped. “The fuck is that supposed to mean—”

His voice dropped low, sultry and razor-sharp. “Punishment like fucking that sweet pussy of yours until you forget your name.”

Heat exploded in your face. “You’re insane.”

“You’re wet.”

“Fuck you—”

“Exactly.”

He stood and crossed the room. You didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Your body was frozen—but not from fear. From want.

He returned with a small key and crouched beside you again. “I’ll unlock the cuffs. But if you run, I’ll catch you. And next time, I won’t be gentle.”

He unlocked the chain.

You didn’t run.

You didn’t want to.

He stood again and offered his hand. “Your choice,” he said, voice low and rough. “Out that door… or to my bed.”

You stared at him, then glanced at the door. You didn’t move. “Thought so.”

He took your wrist, pulled you up, and led you down a hallway. His room was worse than you expected. Dark wood walls. An unmade bed. Guns everywhere. Antlers mounted above the headboard. Shelves lined with bullets, whiskey bottles, and half-ripped wanted posters.

You paused—because three of those posters were yours. One was pinned near the bed. And it was stained.You didn’t ask what the white smear was.

San noticed you looking.

He smirked, leaned in behind you, and whispered, “Got real familiar with you before I met you.”

You swallowed hard.

His hand slid around your waist. The other gripped your shoulder.

He bent you over the edge of the bed, body flush to yours, breath hot on your ear.

“No more talking.”

Then the rip.

He grabbed the back of your shirt and tore it straight down the spine, fabric splitting like paper. Your bra snapped loose seconds later. You gasped, but his palm was already on your back, keeping you bent.

He dropped to his knees behind you, fingers roughly yanking your pants down to your thighs. He didn’t prep. Didn’t pause. You felt him move behind you, heard the telltale crack of a condom being torn open.

Then—

One hard thrust.

You screamed—half in shock, half in need.

“Shhh.. i’ve got you..” he growled, voice hot at your shoulder. “You can take it.”

“F- fuck!” You moaned as he slammed into you again, then again, his hips snapping rough against yours, one hand buried in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he owned you. You couldnt lie, you loved it. Him treating you like this.

“Fuckin’ tight little outlaw cunt,” he grunted. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

You moaned through gritted teeth, body on fire, legs trembling. “S–sannie..”

“You like being bent over like a prize?” he snarled. “Like a bounty?”

You didn’t answer—so he spanked you. Hard. You cried out, biting the sheets.

“Answer me, baby..”

“Yes,” you hissed. “Yes—fuck—yes.”

He fucked you harder.

No mercy. No pause.

He filled you like he was trying to ruin you from the inside out, rough and fast and filthy. He whispered the nastiest shit in your ear—how good your pussy felt, how pretty you sounded begging, how much he was going to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

Your voice cracked as you tried to breathe his name, hips trembling under the weight of his body.

“S–Sannie…”

It came out broken, high and desperate. You weren’t even sure if you were begging him to stop or begging for more. The sound of it made him still for just a second — just long enough for him to lower his chest against your back, wrapping one strong arm around your waist to hold you close.

His breath was warm at your ear, the edge in his voice softening.

“There she is…” he murmured, lips grazing your temple. “My sweet girl.”

You whimpered again, tears clinging to your lashes. “I–I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re takin’ me so well. So perfect… you were made for this. Made for me.”

His thrusts slowed — deep and steady now — more like he was savoring you, not just claiming you. His fingers tangled with yours over the sheets, his other hand rubbing soothing circles over your ribs as you tried to catch your breath.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “All messed up for me. Cryin’ for me.”

You nodded shakily, voice trembling, “S–Sannie… it’s too much.. G–gonna cum.”

He kissed your shoulder, moving gently now — hips rolling slow and thick inside you, coaxing every gasp and moan from your throat.

“I know, baby,” he said. “But I’ve got you. You don’t gotta run anymore. You’re safe now… right here with me.”

And with the way his arms wrapped around you, the way his voice dipped into something raw and real, you almost believed him.

Your legs almost gave out—but he held you up, cock driving into you over and over until you were trembling, moaning his name in broken gasps.

When your body clenched and you came hard around him, he cursed, pulled out, and flipped you over.

“On my lap.”

You barely had time to breathe before he pulled you into his lap, straddling him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

He was already hard again. Already rolling another condom on.

You whimpered.

He grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him.

You gasped—eyes wide, back arching.

He leaned forward, grabbed his cowboy hat, and placed it on your head.

“There,” he smirked. “Now you look real pretty.”

You couldn’t speak.

You just rode him—driven by some fever you couldn’t explain, some need that had been burning for days. He held your waist and fucked up into you, your bodies slamming together, the hat slipping down your forehead.

He groaned every time you clenched, every time you whispered his name, every time you lost rhythm and whimpered into his neck.

“Naughty fuckin’ little outlaw,” he breathed. “Could’ve been mine this whole time.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered.

“And you’re soaked.”

You shuddered.

He let you ride him until your thighs burned and your legs collapsed. Your forehead stayed pressed to his as your hips moved faster, his hands gripping you tighter like he was trying to anchor both of you. San's breath was ragged, warm puffs against your mouth as he looked at you — not just your body, but you.

“I’m close,” you whispered, voice barely holding together, “Sannie, I—”

His hands slid up your back, one curling into your hair, tugging gently to tilt your face to his. “I know, baby. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Your fingers dug into his chest as you ground down on him harder, chasing that high that sat right on the edge of every nerve in your body. His mouth brushed yours — not quite a kiss, just breath and warmth and the tremble of restraint in him.

“That’s it,” he whispered again, voice thick. “Ride it out for me. Take everything I give you.”

You cried out his name — sharp and breathless — as your body finally broke, pleasure rolling through you like a wave that knocked the air from your lungs. You clung to him, gasping, the world spinning around you as your muscles tensed and fluttered with each pulse of release.

San groaned deep in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he bucked up into you once, twice, chasing his own edge. “You’re perfect,” he choked out. “So fucking perfect.”

Then he pulled you fully against his chest, burying his face in your neck as he followed you over the edge — body shuddering, breath caught between a curse and your name.

Then he laid you down.

The bed creaked as he hovered over you, finally slow, finally controlled.

He kissed your neck once—just once.

Then he slid into you again, slow and deep.

You gasped, already sensitive.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let me feel you.”

This time, he didn’t pound you.

He rolled his hips with care, like he was learning your body. His hand found yours and pinned it over your head, his other hand gripping your jaw as he looked into your eyes.

“You were always gonna be mine,” he murmured.

Your lips parted.

You believed him.

And when you came again—shaking and breathless—he followed you, burying his face in your neck as his body tensed and trembled against yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetie..” He murmured in your ear.. You held onto his biceps.. Your eyes starting to close…

The bed was cold.

San’s hand dragged across the sheets as his eyes blinked open, muscles sore and head fuzzy from a sleep that felt far too short. The room was quiet—too quiet. No footsteps. No smartass remarks. No soft, sleepy breaths beside him.

He sat up quickly, heart already racing.

You were gone.

The cuffs were off. The door hadn’t slammed. You’d slipped out quietly, like smoke through a crack in the wall.

He cursed under his breath and scanned the room. That’s when he saw it:

A folded note, sitting crooked on the nightstand, weighted down by one of your spent bullets—small, but unmistakably yours.

He stared at it for a moment, jaw tight.

Then picked it up.

The paper smelled faintly like you—leather, dirt, and something sweeter underneath. He unfolded it carefully, like if he opened it too fast you might vanish for good.

Your handwriting spilled across the page, messy but confident.

“Morning, cowboy. Didn’t mean to disappear without a kiss. You were snoring too loud.”

“Don’t get your ego all twisted. Last night wasn’t a surrender—it was a draw. A damn good one, though.”

“I liked the way you touched me like you owned me. Even if I don’t belong to anyone… not really.”

“You’re dangerous. All coiled muscle and rough hands and a mouth that makes it impossible to think straight. Guess that’s why I didn’t shoot you when I had the chance.”

“But I’m not good at staying. Never was. Never tried to be. There’s always a bounty, always someone chasing me, always another dusty town to disappear into.”

“Still… you felt different. Even if I won’t say it out loud.”

“And maybe I’m stupid for leaving. Maybe I’m scared. Maybe both.”

“But if you find me again—really find me—”

“I’ll stay.”

“Because for all my running, I think I’ve been yours since the second you walked into that bar.”

—Yours. Always.”  

“p.s .. I love you.”

San didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The note trembled slightly in his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, marked up with scratches and bites you’d left behind. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes locked on the paper like it might say more if he just stared long enough.

She’s gone, he thought.

But she’s not lost.

He folded the note gently and tucked it inside his coat—right next to his heart. Then he grabbed his belt, holstered his revolver, and headed for the door.

There was only one thought in his mind now.

He wasn’t mad. Not even close.

Because now?

He had a reason to hunt you again...

[dexxtrosee]

Safekeeping (Part 2)

Summary: a father loses his mind over a silly little thing that Robby has to deal with, of course. Needless to say, he fucks up when you come into the picture and his judgement gets clouded.

A/N: sorry for the long wait, this is still like setting the ground lmao I'm sorry, promise things will pick up after this one.

Part 1.

Robby has always tried his best to be approachable.

The irony doesn’t pass him by. He knows what he must look like, 6’1 and sleep deprived all the time, annoyed and at the brink of yelling at the next person who comes to him with a stupid ass remark about patient satisfaction scores or vaccines being harmful or whatever the fuck conspiracy theories are spinning around lately. He would argue being approachable doesn’t equal putting up with bullshit, though. 

But he tries, honest. The last thing he would want is to become one of those doctors people pray to avoid rotating with, he knows the feeling. He dreads ever seeing a patient sighing when they notice him approaching, or have a nurse press their lips together whenever they work a case with him.  And he knows the job inevitably gives you nightmares, how could it not? But he hopes he doesn’t have a recurring guest role in his students’ dreams. 

The hospital is overwhelmed and understaffed, the nurses are not safe, his new students have gone through the horrors since day fucking one (God, he already sounds like them). There’s no time to sit down and talk, barely time to stuff his mouth full of whatever he can get his hands on to eat, and he doesn’t really check his phone almost in the entire shift. On good days, he finds it hilarious. On bad ones, he doesn’t really get why they’re still trying, why all of them haven’t quit on the spot.

But he’s the one in charge, right? So he has to be approachable.

“Doctor Robby? Could you help me out here? The father keeps telling us he doesn’t want the vaccine to avoid the, uh, ‘tracking device created by the government’?”

He takes a deep breath. Well disposed, easy going and approachable, goddammit. 

“I’ll be right there.”

Whitaker scurries off and Dana starts laughing her ass off somewhere to his left. He can’t really help it when he starts laughing too, despite covering his mouth and turning away. 

At the corners of the entire ER, there are these metallic things that are supposed to serve as mirrors, circular as to give a better perspective of every place. They have cameras too, of course, but he can’t really use the CCTV system to sneak glances at the mother of the babygirl, can he?

He tries to be subtle. Stands in front of the closest with a chart and plays dumb, ignores Dana's teasing smile and Samira's weirded out looks. He finds it interesting that they don't say anything though.

He takes another deep breath and walks to the room with the conspiranoic parent, grabbing the inside of his sweatshirt for dear life.

He doesn’t quite manage to smile, but can anyone blame him?

“Good morning sir, heard we’re having some trouble here. Mind if I help out?”

He already met this man, so he has already decided he doesn’t like him. Still, he keeps his face neutral and bites back the snark and the snapping.

“You’re not getting any injections anywhere near him.”

Ah, of course, not like we already pumped him full of other shit to help with the state you brought him in.

“It would just be a vaccine, sir, nothing more.”

The man scoffs. 

Robby doesn’t quite understand people, despite having a career longer than their lifespan. They had to sedate the patient- Dylan, when his father had brought him in with a deep cut that had torn his right thigh and he was so deep in a panic attack he wouldn’t answer a single question they asked, just kept sobbing and screaming while his father kept frowning at him. A piece of rusty metal had done it, after his father had taken him to a wrecking yard for a “fun time”. 

Dylan is now laid in bed, with stitches going from the right side of his knee to the upper middle of his thigh. He’s barely ten.

“Yeah sure, how stupid do you think I am?” Very. “I said no.”

Robby nods, turning his head to the side in hopes of hiding the anger. “I understand your decision, but I’m sure you can understand too that we’d rather wait until his mother gets here so she can tell us as much, if she agrees with you. Ultimately, it is her decision.”

Sweet satisfaction spreads through his veins when the man seethes in front of him, clenching his hands by his sides and walking around like a caged animal. “I’m his father.”

It’s so hard for Robby to hold back the shrug, but he manages. “And we’re aware, but we also have registered that the mother has full custody of the boy. I’m sorry, but what she says goes.”

The man in front of him is big, younger than him by at least ten years. If Robby got close to him, he thinks they’d look at each other eye to eye. 

That said, he thinks a simple punch would get him on the floor, in case he loses his mind. Not like he can do it though, he’s not about to lose his license over some stupid ass man that has more air than brain inside his skull. 

“I could sue you for this.”

His voice rises, setting Robby on high alert in seconds. He gets his hands out of his hoodie and threads them behind his back.

“You are free to do so, sir, but we are following the law and the mother’s wishes. She set on record her consent for vaccines whenever they are required.”

He already feels frustrated by not giving it to him as soon as he arrived. It was a deep cut, deep enough that the cleaning was messy and had made Javadi turn a little pale. McKay had held the little boy’s head while it happened until he passed out, then had asked Robby for her break and ran outside, to the ambulance bay. 

“You’re not getting a single fucking thing inside my boy, you hear me?”

It rings louder this time, loud enough that everything seems to quiet down outside the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dana approaching. He takes a few seconds to step back and shake his head, motioning for Mateo instead. 

Relief fills him when she doesn’t protest, only to be squished as soon as he notices she turns around and goes to the room you’re in. You’re right outside, standing at the curtain with your hands shaking. Dana grabs you and pushes you inside, closing the blue cloth behind her.

Fuck.

He turns back around, rising his hands with his palms open.

“Sir, please calm down. This is a hospital, there are many other patients here that would appreciate some silence.”

It comes out harsher than he intended. The man walks closer to him, and Robby was right, they meet eye to eye.

Mateo comes inside right then. 

“Should I call security?”

Some sort of stupidity must be infecting him today, cause he raises his eyebrow before he speaks. “I don’t know. Should we, sir?”

He braces for impact when the man’s face turns red.

Oh well, at least he’ll have some days off.

You looked so shaken, eyes darting around the room in search of the voice that kept yelling. He never likes to see his patients so unsettled, but God, what he had felt was something else entirely. It was almost like someone was choking him, tied down to the place he’s standing at while he was forced to take the beating.

He’ll go take a look at you right after Langdon fixes his soon to be broken nose, he decides.

“Are you out of your fucking mind, you imbecile?”

A woman comes rushing inside the room, pushing the man that was about to punch him away from Robby. 

He won’t admit it to anyone, ever, but he almost cries out of relief. He really likes his nose to be intact.

“Get the fuck out.”

She’s the mother, he notices. They come to the hospital for check ups often enough that he recognises her, even if he’s just treated them once before, after Dylan threw up blood once only to discover it was just a nosebleed that had gone to his stomach. 

“I’m not going anywhere, he’s my son too. Where does it say he’s only Sydney’s?”

The mother, apparently Sydney, scoffs. “By law, he is, remember? You don’t have fucking custody and I was stupid enough to allow you to see him, but not anymore. Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

A few beats pass. Mateo looks at Robby like he has the answer for world peace right at the palm of his hands, so he sighs and gets between them. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to remind you that this is a hospital and we cannot allow you to have this type of behaviour here. If you don’t stop now, I’m gonna ask you both to leave.”

He seriously thinks he’s about to get tackled to the floor by both of them before Sydney nods and grabs the man by his arm, pulling him away. “I’m sorry, we’ll keep it quiet. Can you tell me what’s going on with Dylan?”

He nods, nodding at Mateo so he can go get McKay and Withaker. “We’ve stitched the wound and had to sedate him to do so, he was in blind panic when they arrived and made it nearly impossible for us to treat him properly. He’ll be fine, one of our doctors will explain further to you. For now, we need to get him a tetanus shot too, to prevent any infection.”

Sydney nods, ignoring the way the father glares at her. Robby’s sure he’ll end up being escorted out of the place sometime soon, but he’ll deal with it later. “He got the full scheme when he was little, if that matters.”

“Unfortunately, since the wound was dirty, we had to stitch it together, and it has been close to ten years, the booster is needed. He’ll be fine more than likely, this is just protocol.”

Once she tells him the go ahead, McKay comes inside smiling at her. Whitaker understandably looks six seconds away from jumping out of his skin.

With a warning look to both of them, he steps outside and tries his best to appear nonchalant as he nearly runs to your room. 

His stomach twists in knots when he hears you sniffing inside, but he doesn’t dare go in.

He catches Dana’s soft tone talking to you in reassurance, doesn’t quite get any words but knows how she looks like, bent over by your side, rubbing your back while she holds your hand. 

The baby girl is quiet now, probably taking her much needed rest after crying for so long and getting a relief from her colics. He can’t really help it when a smile blooms over his face, picturing you holding her and talking softly. You’re so pretty, but it makes him dizzy to think what you must look like when you’re loving your daughter. There’s something so soft and gentle about you, tender in a way that he didn’t believe possible in times like these. A raw, dormant part inside him wants to jump out and wrap itself around your frame, letting your arms keep the baby close to your chest while he keeps you safe inside his. 

He nearly jumps to the roof when Dana steps out and finds him in the middle of the daydream. A nervous laugh bubbles out of him when she raises her eyebrow at him, but he brushes it off and clears his throat.

“So, how’s she doing?”

Dana shrugs. “Better now that you’ve shut that piece of shit up. Good job, doc.”

He preens at the praise, satisfied with helping you feel better in any way possible. 

He doesn’t dare ask to go inside, afraid of shaking you further. Still, he thinks he can ride the high of having helped you until he has a chance to see you again. 

He doesn’t really expect you to step outside and stare at him with wet eyes, clutching a piece of cloth-a baby’s blanket, he thinks, close to your chest. His legs feel like jelly.

“Are you okay, doctor Robby?”

Dana, that traitor, scurries off, leaving him with his mouth hanging open. 

“W-well I-uhm, yes ma’am, don’t worry.” He gives you a shaky smile, so pathetic he can feel his entire face turn red. “All in a day’s work.”

You frown at him. “That’s awful.”

A stupid little nervous laugh leaves his mouth, rubbing his neck subconsciously. 

“I hope it didn’t bother you too much, I try-we, we try our best to keep things as calm as possible here.”

You shake your head. And there it is again, that subtle shift between the scared woman he’s dying to take care of and this other version that seems ready to eat the world whole.

“I’m fine, it just set me off a little. It hasn’t been the easiest day today.”

He nods in understanding, wringing his hands while wrecking his brain in hopes of finding a way to keep you here, talking to him for hours and hours and eternity and then more. 

“Hopefully we can keep it this way now.” 

A sweet smile is gifted to him again.

“I know you’ll try your best, doctor Robby. Thank you.”

You go back inside your room, and he has to brace himself against the wall. Holy fuck. 

There is no way he’ll stay with just your name and a one time meeting. He needs to figure something out before you leave, or else he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

[mattslutt]

I Didn’t Mean That - m.sturniolo

Dilf!Matt x Reader — One Shot

Angst with comfort, fluff ending, age gap, pet names.

summary: older boyfriend matt comes back from work exhausted and lets his anger out on you.

note : don’t like it, don’t read it:)

word count: 785.

————————————————————————

The front door slammed harder than usual.

You flinched from the couch, where you’d been curled up waiting for him. “Matt?” you called softly.

He didn’t answer right away. You heard his heavy footsteps, the thud of keys tossed on the table, and then the sound of him sighing—long and ragged, like the day had bled him dry.

You stood up and padded over to him in your oversized sleep shirt, bare feet silent on the hardwood. “Hey, you okay?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Can I just have a minute?” he snapped.

Your hand froze. “I—sorry, I just wanted—”

“Jesus, baby, I don’t need coddling right now. Can you not hover for five seconds?”

The words were like ice water down your back. You blinked at him, swallowing hard. “I was just worried about you,” you whispered.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his tired face and walking past you. “I don’t need you fussing like I’m some fucking child.”

You nodded quickly, eyes stinging. “Okay,” you murmured, already backing away. “I’ll… I’ll just be in the room.”

You didn’t wait to see if he responded. You tapped upstairs and closed the bedroom door behind you, your chest already tightening. Your throat burned as you sat on the edge of the bed, your lip trembling before the first quiet sob broke loose. You didn’t want to cry—he was just tired, you knew that—but it still hurt. You’d only wanted to help. You loved him.

Matt sat on the couch downstairs in the quiet, staring blankly at the wall.

The sound of the door closing and your broken voice echoed downstairs to his ears like a curse.

Fuck.

He ran both hands through his hair and stood abruptly. “Goddammit,” he whispered. He’d come home like a storm and destroyed the one soft thing in his life.

A few minutes later, you heard a soft knock. You wiped your cheeks fast and turned away from the door. “Yeah?” you said, trying to sound okay.

It opened slowly.

Matt stepped in, eyes immediately falling on your hunched shoulders and your blotchy cheeks. His face crumpled with guilt.

“Oh, angel…”

You didn’t answer.

He sank to his knees in front of you, resting his hands gently on your thighs. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

You couldn’t—not at first. He’d never spoken to you like that before, not once. And he looked so tired. Older than usual. But your heart still hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to your knee. “I took my day out on you and you didn’t deserve that. You were just trying to take care of me. I was an asshole.”

You bit your lip, your fingers trembling in your lap. “You said you didn’t need me,” you whispered.

Matt looked up quickly, pain in his eyes. “No, baby, no. Don’t say that. I need you more than anything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was just… angry at everything else and I let it spill on you. I swear to God, beautiful, I didn’t mean a word of it.”

He stood up slowly and sat beside you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand gently brushing the tears from your cheek.

“You’re my peace, baby. You come to me soft and sweet after this fucked-up world chews me up, and I just… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You finally leaned into him, your voice muffled against his chest. “I was just scared I upset you.”

Matt held you tighter, kissing the top of your head. “Never, sweetheart. You calm me. I’m just stupid sometimes. Too old and too set in my ways, maybe. But I love you. So much it scares me.”

You nodded against him, arms slowly wrapping around his middle. “I love you too.”

“Let me make it up to you,” he said softly. “Let me run you a bath. Rub your back. Kiss every inch of that pretty face until you forget I ever raised my voice.”

You finally smiled, eyes still wet. “Okay.”

“There’s my girl,” he whispered, brushing your hair behind your ear. “My sweet, soft, perfect angel. God, I don’t deserve you.”

He kissed you slow—gentle and deep and full of regret. You melted into him, forgiving him piece by piece with every brush of his lips, every whispered “I love you, baby” against your skin.

He made good on every word.

And by the end of the night, you were asleep in his arms, safe again in the arms of the man who may have been tired and rough around the edges… but loved you with everything he had.

____________________________________________

i MIGHT start writing more dilf matt cuz it’s sexy. anyway. bai :3

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝐻𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑀𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛

• Marterlist

The hot steam filled the small bathroom, covering the tiled walls in droplets and fogging up the mirror completely. A few last streams of water dripped from the showerhead, showing the shower was over, while Bakugo ran a towel through his wet hair, messing it up even more. The heat made him feel half-asleep, his eyelids heavy, and he muttered a curse for waking up late. He didn’t even have the energy to argue that maybe this time, you should be the one making breakfast.

With a rough and annoyed gesture, he wiped his hand across the fogged mirror, leaving a visible streak in front of his face. He scowled. His reflection was there, slightly flushed from the heat, blond strands stuck to his forehead… but it was what was just below his jaw that made him freeze.

His eyes shot open, brows furrowed, jaw tight. His hand went to his neck quickly, fingers tracing the damp skin with a mix of urgency and disbelief. He tilted his chin up, turned his head. One. Two. There they were. Two dark, purplish marks that stood out harshly against his skin tone: one hickey right in the center of his throat, and another, longer and deeper, on the left side. Like a damn trophy. Like your signature—one he didn’t remember giving you permission to leave.

“Goddammit, Y/n,” he growled under his breath, his tone rough, irritated, and embarrassed all at once.

How the hell hadn’t he noticed before? Was he so damn drunk on desire last night that he didn’t feel it? Or did he feel it and just ignore it like an idiot?

He couldn’t go to the agency like this. The damn hero agency! And on top of that, in the middle of summer. There was no way in hell he could wear the winter uniform with the high collar without being cooked alive in the first five minutes.

When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp and sticking out messily, his boots hit the floor with force as he walked straight toward you, standing with your back to him in the kitchen, busy at the stove. The smell of breakfast filled the air, warm and tempting.

Without thinking much, he snapped:

"Fix this!" his voice was harsh, loaded with genuine irritation... though also tinged with a slight, very slight trace of desperation.

You turned your head curiously, blinking with an innocent smile that fooled no one.

"Fix what?" you asked, tilting your head.

Your eyes widened, first in surprise, then with a guilty giggle you tried to hide behind your hand.

"Oh... about that..." you murmured, glancing away as if the floor had suddenly become very interesting. "I got carried away."

Your excuse sounded weak, even to your own ears. And Bakugo knew it. He scowled deeper, arms crossing over his chest, his biceps tightening under the fabric of his suit.

But he couldn’t afford this right now. Not if he wanted to get to the agency on time.

"Tch..." he clicked his tongue, turning abruptly so you wouldn’t see how his mouth twisted into a resigned—yet deep down—amused smirk. "You’re gonna pay for this, Y/n."

The only solution, after Bakugo nearly wrecked the bathroom trying to think of alternatives, was the most humiliating one: makeup.

Of course, there was no way he’d know how to apply it, so you had to do it yourself—between stifled giggles and his threatening growls.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he had to admit—grudgingly—that the makeup did a decent job hiding the hickeys. You could barely see them. As long as no one looked too closely, they’d go unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

A few hours later...

The scorching summer heat weighed down on the city like a curse.

The mission with Kirishima was intense: chasing villains, rescuing civilians, explosions, running.

And with every drop of sweat that rolled down his skin, Bakugo could feel the makeup melting, mixing with the sweat, wearing off.

At first, he didn’t pay much attention.

Until, during a break, Kirishima gave him a weird look. A really weird look.

"Hey..." the redhead frowned, leaning toward his neck. "Is that...?"

Bakugo took a sharp step back.

"The hell are you staring at, dumbass?!" he snapped, instantly on the defensive.

But it was already too late. Kirishima burst out laughing, loud enough to catch Denki’s attention. Curious as ever, he jogged over.

"No way! Is that a hickey?" Denki said, pointing straight at it.

"Two of them!" Kirishima added between laughs, doubling over.

Bakugo growled, clenching his fists as he felt what little makeup remained sliding off, exposing the purple marks now practically screaming to the world: "I'm taken, and my girlfriend is a damn savage."

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[miss-morland]

dennis in dtamhd is so bpd recovery coded i feel so much about it <333333

[rosenrot234]

He'd be so thrilled at Maelle having a sibling :(

But I think we all know he'd also try to talk Maelle into leaving. He's a family guy. He'd want her to be with her family. Cuz he's so damn nice and perfect and goddammit :(

GODDD I feel like Verso and Gustave would've hit it off instantly had they actually had the chance to meet and talk properly. augh damn it.

(Yes ik what verso can reveal in the late game about his... lack of action in a certain scene. But my point still stands!!!!)

[gretchenzellerbarnes]

meljayvik au where mel's mage powers emerge immediately after watching ambessa try and sample viktor's *local cuisine*

[oookaline]

Nightwing wasn't expecting a big reaction to him breaking into Red Hood's current safehouse. Maybe a fight, the probability of him being thrown out of the window were pretty high. Maybe Hood would just take a look at him sitting in his kitchen counter and just turn around and bail.

He was prepared to deal with any of the seventeen scenarios he came up with in his head, but none of those even got close to encapsulating what actually happened.

He was ready for fists, guns, a slipper being thrown at him. He was not ready for how Hood entered his apartment and just froze when seeing him. A reaction so foreign to them that in turn Nightwing froze as well, both men just starring at each other. He knew something had happened when Hood was still semi out the door and made no move to enter and close or leave and close.

"wing?"

"How long have you been here?"

"A couple of hours maybe? I finished patrol early and-"

"Shit" Hood then bolted inside towards one of the rooms, startling Nightwing into following him inside after running to the door and closing it.

They entered a small seemingly barren room, with nothing but a small unmade single bed, a bedside table and a wall closet. Hood looked around and checked the covers for something, then going to the window and checking them too.

"If it helps, I got in via the living room window."

"Shut up Dickhead." Hood snapped at him- no, that wasn't Hood anymore, it was his little brother now, looking desperate. Jason in his stupor had taken off his face mask and domino, his glaring green eyes made him shut up on the spot. "Tell me right now exactly how long have you been here."

"Two hours and thirty-three minutes before you opened the door."

Jason cursed under his breath again, running a hand through his hair, Nightwing could see how tired and scared Jason was and it confused him a bit, was he housing someone here? Did they escape?

His brother turned his head towards the wall closet door, and his face crumbled. Nightwing almost reached out in a moment of panic but Jason was faster and got to his knees in front of the door, tapping it carefully three times. "Hey amor, you in there? Its me."

A few agonizing second passed and Nightwing's questions only grew. A minute passed and Jason's hand that tapped had turned into a trembling fist, then his whole body relaxed when a small shuffling sound came from inside the closet, and three fast taps were heard in return.

Jason snapped his head back to him and lowly said "wait for me in the kitchen. now." Nightwing didn't think twice before turning around and leaving the small room, not making the effort to try and listen in to an obviously private moment.

By the time Jason sat next to him, Dick had foregone his own domino and was nervously picking on his gloved hand.

He side eyed Jason, a deep frown on his brothers face kept him quiet for a while, and Dick didn't dare try to brake the silence.

"Someone..." Jason started, taking in a large breath of air, apprehension turned into exhasperation, "Someone wants to meet you." Their eyes met, "Nightwing."

A faint lightbulb started flickering in Dick's head, he just nodded and softly gestured his head to his mask, a silent question of which Jason nodded so Dick tried to quickly reattach the mask on. After a sigh Jason turned his head towards the hallway and softly said "Min, someone wants to meet you too."

A few seconds passed and a small head poked out of the room they were in before, a black haired girl shily walked out and shuffled foward until she was stood where the hallway began, looking up at Dick expectanly.

A smile made its way through Dick's face, getting out of his seat and couching down to be head level with the kid, far away enough to let her be the one to come to him. "Hey there, nice to meet you," He looks at Jason, somehow surprised to see the fond look painted over his face "this guy told me you were very cool you know."

"...said?" The girl looked up at Jason, a wobbly smile and shining green eyes "Really?" both words were said with a very strong accent.

"Yeah amor. Go on, he was very excited" He hasn't heard his brother be this soft with someone since... Since his day's in the mantle, talking with scared kids on the street. It made something tug and scrach at his heart.

"What's your name?" Dick tried to make himself seem as inviting as possible.

"...Minnie." The girl answered, and took a tentative step forward, "Nightwing?" She took another step forward, then hurried towards Jason, putting her hands up.

Jason scooped her up on his arms, the girl immediately tucking her head on his shoulder and looking at Nightwing with twinkling eyes. Jason chuckled softly and laid his own head on top of hers "She's a little bit shy, but her favourite Gotham hero is Nightwing." He said that last bit with gritted teeth, grinning when the girl gasped at that.

"I like Red Hood!" She complained to him, bunching her cheeks in indignation.

"I said 'hero' Min, I'm not a hero."

"Yes you are!" She started hitting him on the shoulder, "Yes you are, you are you are!" Clearly the girl was getting frustrated, and Jason grimaced at the girl's reaction.

"Okay, okay min, you're gonna hurt yourself, stop that."

"Say it." She put her small hands on Jason's cheek, "Say you're a hero."

Jason just looked at her, and Dick's heart strained painfully at the scene in front of him for various reasons.

"I'm a hero." Jason said softly, a small smile gracing his lips, "Good?"

"Good" Min answered back, then she turned her head to Nightwing "You're a hero too, you and dad."

That made Dick blink at her, then he slowly looked over at Jason who had the worst 'say anything and you're getting the defenestration treatment' look Dick has gotten in a good while, so he just smiled brightly at her "You're right! And your dad is awesome too! I'm glad im good enough to be second to him!"

The resulting smile he got from her was so bright it made his own smile bigger, "Yeah! See if Nightwing says it it means it's true! Nightwing doesn't lie, you said so!"

Dick raised an eyebrow at this and laughed, nodding in agreement as Jason scowled at him.

The girl yawned in Jason's hold, tucking her head back on his shoulder. Jason's arm tightened around her "Sleepy?" She nodded, making him hum and stand up, "To bed we go then."

"Nightwing?" She called out from Jason's arm, "Is he going to go away?" It was a soft question laced with sad doubt.

Jason stopped in his tracks to turn to Dick, who was stood now, "Yes, but you're going to be able to see him some other day. Right Nightwing?"

"Of course," Dick didn't even need to think to answer, "If your dad is okay I can come over sometime too."

"hmm" she only hummed happily in response, and Jason gave him a small approving nod in response before taking the girl back to the room.

For a second time, Jason sat down next to him after a while, Dick again having foregone his mask.

"She's not mine, but I love her." was the first thing he said, something dangerous laced in his voice as if daring Dick to say something against the little girl.

"I wasn't going to question it." He tried reassuring Jason, but he knew it would take more than just empty words, "Where..." Dick grimaced trying to think of the right questions "Can you tell me about her?"

His brother ducked his head, a hand running down his face, "Remember that human trafficking ring we busted last year? The one that was taking immigrant women from the streets? Her mom was one of the fugitives that came to us with the intel." Dick hummed at that, trying to remember the very few women who had come to them desperate trying to get to safety, "Brazilian lady, barely spoke English, I gave all three of them an address to go to when they felt like they were in danger, and after the bust she came to me with a small girl, asking me to look over her for the day." Jason was silent for a bit, then sighed "She was found dead at the end of the day. Gang kill."

"Her name's Minnie, after Minnie Mouse I think?" A small smile graced his lips "She told me that, said it was her mom's favourite character and that she loved her so much she named her that. " Jason then looked at him, pain in his eyes "I know I have to put her in the system Dick, I do, you don't need to tell me that. It's just-" He closed his eyes, "Her mom trusted me with her, and I know how the system is, it's shit and I'm not going to make her go through with that. So she's staying here until I find a family I trust enough."

Dick silently nodded, not saying anything even though Jason wasn't seeing him, but he knew right now nothing relating to that would be good to talk about, so he tried shifting the conversation a bit. "She seems like a very cool kid."

"She is." Jason genuinely smiled at that, "I came home one night with a cut on my face, she was still awake and saw me bleeding and got a hello kitty band-aid and put it over my cut. She said she would officially be my nurse from now on." He shook his hand fondly, "She's also hella smart, I take her to the library once per week and she's already reading on her own. She's only six, but I'm so so proud of her."

Dick smiled at how his brother talked about his kid, "Sounds like she takes after her dad in the reading department, am I to expect Shakespeare by the time she's ten?" He tried for a quip, bumping his arm with his brother's, then froze because he didn't know if they were back at that point in their relationship and oh god he should know better than to just do things out of habit-

But Jason just laughed at that, the stress in his shoulder loosening significantly and Dick realised Jason was stressed because he didn't know how Dick would react to Min. His face crumbled slightly, but recovered before Jason could realise. "She's definitely way smarter than me." Then his face closed again, his eyes steeling on Dick and not letting any emotion show, "I'll only ask you this once Dick, don't tell Bruce." Dick thinned his lips, "I don't want him to come and take her away from me and I'm not above showing him just how far I can go to protect her."

"Jason..." Dick sighed, "I don't... Bruce wouldn't do that."

"Bullshit Dick, and you know." Jason snapped. "He's so straight in his fucked up ways that he'd see a kid in my house and think I kidnapped her or something and take her away." He set his jaw, turning his face away.

Dick was silent for a bit, trying to think of something to placate him, and when he thought of something he smiled and leaned over to try and find Jason's eyes, "You know, Alfie would be really happy to have a granddaughter, you should... invite him over, to meet her." He smiled when Jason met his eyes.

The small smile that he was able to pull out of Jason was worth it, and that was one less thorn in Dick's heart. "Alfie would spoil her so much."

Dick nodded, then stood to start heading out. He grabbed his mask but then stopped, handing over his mask to Jason "Give his to her, as a small present and a promise that I'll be back." Jason took the mask in his hand, thumbing over the rigid material, "Bye Jay, see you some other time."

Jason didn't say anything, nor did he move so Dick just let himself out, stopping a bit before fully closing the door and looking at his brother who was now a pseudo dad to a kid, and how better he looked now.

Wait, holy shit- DICK'S AN UNCLE!

[rwyvernarts]

Man and his eldritch god worm friend

-Giratina remains hidden from other people, with its presence only evident in the questionably-alive nature of its host and his slow, unchanging pulse.

-of course, this pact is founded on keeping Ingo alive until he gets home. This is directly in opposition to a universe that actively tries to kill him, so things are bound to derail now and then. Fatal illness or injury? Giratina’ll fix that up within… a few weeks. Bear with it it’s learning the intricacies of the human body.

-Giratina may have a somewhat intangible presence, but it is still a foreign Thing and sometimes Ingo’s body tries to get rid of it, without success.

-but sometimes it all works out and the two operate as one. Although Ingo’s health is slowly declining in the long run, Giratina is able to provide internal support and keep him going no matter what.

[whohasthecards]

What if Hangman has a shitty family, right? Sure, he had a relatively happy childhood, but they weren't happy with his career choices.

A day before an important mission, he visits them. Hangs around with his mom, messes with his siblings, plays with his nephews and nieces, and even talks to his dad a bit.

His dad got pissed though, and asked him why the hell is he crawling back.

Hangman was tense before he simply said that he wanted to spend some time with them. He left a bit after that, his dad scoffing at his son's typical behavior.

Hangman gets shot down on the mission.

When James Seresin opens the door, it's to two Naval officers in dress uniform. A Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and a Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, with grim expressions asking if they can come in, and if Jake's sister is here.

James, his wife, his daughter, and his son, all sit on the sofa, as the two men explain that Lieutenant Jacob "Hangman" Seresin was shot down in active combat, no parachute, no possible chance of rescue, no body, declared missing in action, presumed dead. They are sorry for their loss.

"The kid was a good man, a good friend, if only I had more time," Mitchell would say evenly. "You're lucky to have had Hang-- Jake as a son."

"He talked about you guys, a lot," Bradshaw would say softly.

James couldn't believe it, he just saw his son a few days ago, right?

[love-and-doom]

What exactly Sauron thought (back in Númenor) when the white tree cried ? Did this also weighted on his decision to joing Galadriel's campaign in the southlands ? Because if you are of the mind that Halbrand!sauron was truly in his repetence journey this may have been interpreted by him as a sign that he was right after all In this case, even his relapse can be said to have been nudged by the Valar and this brings me back to him telling Prince Durin that fixing his father's realm was the way to earn back his father's respect/love

[rwby-confess]

Confession #502

[ohmigoshiloveu]

Okay so like. I still haven't managed to get myself to finish episode 9, so I don't fully know how Theo's glow up finishes, but regardless I fucking love relistening to Emizel's section of episode 1 and like. Fuck man Theo does a lot of growing. Like he's a little bit pathetic at the beginning of the series. He's so, so brave during the alleyway fight, but he sounds shaky and scared and like a sopping wet pathetic baby the entire time. Charlie specifically describes him as not very alert, not a great fighter, and gives him this little moment where it takes him a second to manage to crush a soda can. He botches the check to beat Emizel in Smash Bros so there's a chance he sucks at the related skills (dexterity and computers I think?), but also after he loses Charlie specifically has him sound super frustrated and conclude that he should've 'stayed in his lane'. When Emizel says 'We'll do what we do best,' and Theo immediately responds with 'drink soda?' so fast that the other players notice it. Charlie might've had that as a predetermined character thing. Theo drinks soda. There's not much else to him.

Which creates this interesting dynamic between him and Emizel, because Emizel is so much better at him at all of these skills that the people around them (a FUCKING GANG) value. Emizel's perceptive, and agile, and strong, and a great fucking fighter irl and in videogames AND he always sounds badass. He's the top dog, the apex predator in their social circle. And I think that colors their relationship a lot? Like Theo has to look up to Emizel. I bet that Theo's looked up to Emizel since they first met, maybe Emizel came crashing into his life doing something epic and Theo thought it was the greatest shit ever.

On the flip side, I was getting a few hints of resentment? Hear me out! It's that 'should have just stayed in my lane' line. He's painfully aware how great Emizel is, compared to how much he's (from his perspective!) just a one trick pony. He's here to drink soda and say funny things, that's all most people want from him and he fucks up whenever he tries to do anything else!

And later in the segment Theo snarkily brings up a medicine check that Emizel had just fucked up in like this super backhanded, super passive aggressive way. That could be him wanting to rub Emizel's one singular fuck up in his face (especially because Theo was having a Moment about how he feels like people only see him as the soda guy, so any feelings of inadequacy would've been dialed up to eleven, so if there was any time for him to resent Emizel it'd be then), but it could also be that he was frustrated with Emizel being an ass (Emizel had just guessed that Theo's dream was to be a nurse, which was flat out wrong, and that's literally what set up the backhanded comment. Theo was saying something like 'thank fuck you don't wanna be a nurse cuz you sure fucked up with nursing that guy earlier.' It could also be that Emizel literally almost forgot Theo's name. Theo literally gave him the 'th' sound, it might've just been a bit Charlie was doing or it could've been Theo being AWARE that Emizel almost forgot his name. Or! It could be that in this moment, where Theo was confiding in Emizel about feeling like being the soda guy was all anyone ever saw in him, Emizel said something to the affect of 'well yeah Soda's the fun one.' Emizel doesn't think before he speaks and literally has a 1 in empathy. Just because he loves Theo doesn't mean he's not gonna blunder into being a complete and utter asshole to him. I'd hazard to say Emizel accidentally being an ass to people he cares about is a running theme).

But also all of that might come down to Charlie still getting the character down. Or, because I've theorized before that Theo might not've been supposed to survive the first Gabriel fight, the little hints of bitterness might've been intentional (even if they were completely improvved and Charlie didn't mean to add that to Theo's character) because Charlie was trying to shove as much character into this character before he was gone, but once it became clear that Theo was going to stick around longer he dropped it. As far as I remember, that bitterness is completely gone in all later interactions we see with Theo. OR! It could be that the bitterness drops because they've both got bigger fish to fry from that point onward, what with Theo's Shilo Incident TM, Emizel's vampirism, the Weylin twins. He doesn't have time to be bitter, he's too busy worrying about losing a cornerstone of his identity or helping his best friend adjust to being a fucking vampire now. And then after he learns to live without soda that basically negates his feelings of inadequacy- like, getting over the idea that he's nothing if he's not the soda guy would be required for him to give up on being the soda guy. And then Emizel would drift back into JUST being a guy to aspire to instead of also being a reminder of Theo's short comings, and then drift even further down into being 'guy who is actually going through it and has to overcome his own demons just like I had to overcome mine'. Like, I think we got to watch Theo slowly start to take Emizel off this pedestal in real time (he still definitely thinks Emizel's hot shit tho. Emizel's his boy, after all.)

Regardless, even if Theo did resent Emizel a little in the beginning, it's so fucking clearly overshadowed by how much he fucking loved him. And like, how could he not? Imagine you're Theo, critically low self esteem, and the literal coolest guy you know fucking LOVES you. Like, Emizel keeps consistently going out of his way to pull Theo up to his level and to treat him as an equal (mostly. Sometimes protectiveness bleeds through, like in his hypothetical fang scenario in ep 1 where he predicts there being five Fangs to fight and he says he can take three and Theo can take two (which in itself is still incredibly kind to Theo. Like, boy, you thought Theo was gonna be able to take out two whole guys? Hell no.) But that could also be chalked up to Emizel just being a cocky ass who wants to show off). Like dude, c'mon. Emizel might be a reminder of everything that Theo's not, but he's also probably Theo's biggest cheerleader. He wholeheartedly thought he was being supportive when he said he thought Theo'd make a great nurse! In all seriousness, though, even if it ultimately discourages him, Theo playing that Smash game against Emizel was at least a little bit of proof of him decidedly not 'staying in his lane,' and Emizel seems to inspire that! Later in that segment he challenges Theo to see which of them can break one of the Fangs kneecaps first! I bet Emizel challenged him to stupid competitions a lot, and that got Theo fired up and competitive in return!

And even when Emizel's not building Theo up, he's still giving Theo special attention, or readily receiving any attention Theo gives him. If nothing else, even at his lowest points that might've made Theo feel cool by association.

On Emizel's part, I think he's like, possibly completely oblivious to any turmoil Theo's going through? Like he thinks Theo's the shit and genuinely sees him as an equal. I'm 99% sure that Theo being his right hand man happened because Theo would've put himself into the role (in episode one before he gets all of his character development he's pretty much always looking to Emizel for what to do, and still more or less does whatever he says up to where I'm at in the series, with refusing to leave the alleyway being the only exception I remember). I think if Theo'd had higher self esteem or been less eager to defer to Emizel, Emizel would've happily gone about his business slotting Theo into more of a partner role. He tells Theo to run from that alleyway because Theo'd taken a fucking devastating hit and Emizel was sure he could handle himself, not because he knows Theo sucks at fighting. He tries to turn Theo into a cool vampire. He convinces Shilo that Theo'll be a valuable asset to raiding the Weylin warehouse and they take Theo with them instead of having him stay behind with the car like Grefgore, despite Theo being the one who actually knows how to drive. He tells Theo about being a vampire even though he keeps it a secret from everyone else, confides in Theo that 'yeah he might absolutely be susceptible to going into a frenzy like Shilo did.'

When you get down to it, Emizel pretty much tells Theo everything he would think is relevant, with two notable exceptions. Maybe three if you count him not telling Theo he has nine lives like a cat but tbh I think he might've just forgot. Or maybe he gets to it later, or maybe he did tell him and I forgot! idk man! But! Those other two things. First off, he like. Pointedly does not tell Theo that he's a prince. Like when they were doing the recap on the way to the Weylin warehouse, there's like. Charlie gives Condi an opening to say it, a little 'is there anything else?' and Emizel just. Doesn't. And the second one is that (at least where I'm at) Emizel never comes clean about bloodbonding Theo. Maybe it just hasn't come up yet, but still. It fits a pattern of Emizel not wanting to admit something that makes him, like, ABOVE Theo somehow. He sees Theo as an equal, and a precious one at that, he doesn't want things to get weird between them because he's literal royalty, and he doesn't want Theo's life to literally revolve around him like it would under a level three blood bond- and doesn't want to admit that he even considered it, even if he did it without really understanding what it was.

And Emizel backing off from ghoulifying Theo after Arthur explains what it actually entails kinda leads into a far more headcanon-y relationship analysis thing so um. Feel free to skip the next paragraph.

So! Like. Why the fuck was Emizel so attached to Theo being Soda. Like he gets over it decently quick, cuz that's his buddy and it's what Theo wants, so like. Whatever. But like, if I'm right about Theo always looking up to Emizel from the moment they met, there might've been some wiggle room between when they first became friends and when Theo became Soda. And like, before Theo became Soda, being Emizel's buddy would probably be the only thing he'd feel he had going for him? Which would've made it even harder for Emizel to get them both on equal footing, and I think that's just... really unappealing to him. Like! Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Emizel loves having people kiss up to him and respect him and blah blah blah, I just think Theo being his boy and Emizel treating him like a partner go hand in hand. Either they weren't best friends yet or Emizel was just. Kind of uncomfortable and eager to push Theo into growing into something more than a hypeman. And then the soda incident occurs, and it gives Theo SOMETHING to define himself by, something people like him and know him for that's got nothing to do with Emizel, and maybe the initial soda incident was bad, but having that sense of identity and falling into what kind've feels like a class clown kinda role might've helped get Theo over his self esteem issues long enough for Emizel to go 'oh you're actually super cool. sweet.' and then blah blah blah they get super close like they are in canon. And then whenever Theo seems like he's backsliding into what he was before the soda incident, Emizel tries to course correct not because he doesn't think Theo's any fun without soda, but because he's made the mental connection that Soda without soda turns into less of a best friend and more of a follower, which as stated before he probably really doesn't want from Theo specifically. but idk. pure conjecture here.

Anyways, above all else, Theo's important to Emizel. I really, really like the idea that Theo was supposed to be like a brother to him (which. Again pointing at my 'Theo was supposed to die in episode 1' theory, can you IMAGINE the angst Emizel could've had about that? Lose one brother and then someone else claiming to be your brother shows up? It would've felt like some hellish, not-worth-it trade. Like a betrayal, like accepting Shilo might mean replacing Theo, and how could he ever?)

And Emizel's important to Theo! But unlike Emizel (who I'm 99% sure is gonna have some kinda moment with Theo but I genuinely cannot see him loving Theo in any other way than the way he does now), Theo has the bonus of having his view of Emizel have a clear trajectory to evolve over the course of the campaign. Like I said, he seems to be getting more confidence in himself and like, not gonna get into the stuff I've had spoiled beyond episode 9 but it seems like Theo's gonna get a lot more comfortable being a proper leader and not just a number two. He's gonna have an easier time seeing Emizel as an equal, and I think that's fucking awesome!

I could be completely off base, but if I never watch another episode then I'll never be proven wrong. So. Ya know.

[caeruleosanguine]

I like that my friends and family know me well enough that when they ask, ‘What are you doing?’ And I respond, ‘Trying to figure out how to kill my husband.’ They just nod and say, ‘Oh, is he being crazy in your vampire games again?’

[steelthroat]

I have the OC, but I have a problem... how do I turn this:

Into this:

How do toy designers come up with this stuff anyway??????

[britneyshakespeare]

you know something i don't like about modern culture (and i wonder to what extent the prevalence of dating apps has to do with it) is that you're, seemingly, not supposed to ask people you just meet in real life on a date anymore? you're supposed to ask them to see you individually to hang out, and you're not supposed to call it anything...? people act like declaring intent is impolite or something.

this absolutely sucks if you're a woman on the receiving end of this kind of thing all the time, from men you don't wanna see privately that way. i've felt so much guilt about it in my life. whether i say no or yes. i know i'm giving that man hope that it's a date, that i wanna go on a date with him if i agree to see him for coffee or whatever. but if i don't wanna go on this undeclared date, i have to reject the very concept of spending time with him at all, which feels SOOO much meaner and more personal, doesn't it? it feels like that to me. and if i do go, and i don't wanna go on another one (because i never enjoyed the it-pretty-much-being-a-date element of the time), it feels like i'm crushing his hopes after puffing them up just a little bit.

and it's like. "date" is not a dirty word. we have so many expectations nowadays around things. women used to sit around and wait for a man to propose to them, and it would be basically the only decision they could make in their life. not even really the choice to marry, but to whom they get married. and obviously marriage was very serious.

as courtship continued to develop into modern dating and boyfriend/girlfriend culture, it sort of decentralized the importance or marriage and valued getting to know someone you like romantically, with the implicit assumption that you're doing it with the attempt to better choose the 'right one' by spending quality time with them. decent enough. although even the words boyfriend and girlfriend are much more serious than they used to be. they did not always imply a serious commitment like they do today, especially if you're... basically, just not a kid anymore.

people have a certain amount of expectation of what anyone over 18 should do or want to do with a "partner"—like, if this were the 1940s, i would've had several "boyfriends" in my adult life, but i never called them that, and the modern sense of that word would not be accurate. if i went on a date or two and flirted with them, that'd be enough to say "yeah i went out with a boyfriend." i'm mostly indifferent to this change of vocabulary, but the point is i have no word to describe any of those guys that i just gave a chance, never felt much for, and didn't wanna keep seeing. not bad things; it's just experience.

and if we aren't bold enough to call things dates for the sake of the atmosphere not losing the low-stakes nature... it's like, no, it doesn't do that. it's just two people spending time with the elephant in the room. perhaps that makes it feel more relaxed if both people really are doing it with the same intent, let's-just-see-if-we-get-along, figuring out if you like someone you don't really know very well yet. testing it. but like. that can be a date. that's what a lot of dates are. when you meet the person on a dating app and just grab coffee without setting higher expectations, you wouldn't hesitate to call it a date. if it's that person from your college class, that's ruder or more presumptuous, somehow?

a date doesn't have to be a candlelit dinner with the violinist standing by. a date doesn't have to be high romance. a date doesn't have to end with a kiss or lead to a commitment, if things go decently. a date certainly doesn't have to result in two people having sex. a date can be nonchalant and friendly and just trying to discover if you have any chemistry with this person who piqued your interest. why is that NOT the initial expectation anymore? why is "date" a dirty word? why?