#from a cvs parking lot ���

[ca-d]

hunter’s moon 🌕

[corvid777]

just spent 20 minutes trolling the “pro life” protestors outside cvs after picking up my hrt. life is beautiful

[team-rnjr]

Guess who got their medication!

[slxtarchive]

𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞. ᥫ᭡ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. you had been pressing chris’s buttons all day and one time he finally did something about it.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. can u please write a chris fic where the reader is being kinda bratty and trying to make him mad and well we know what happens from there. please. by anon

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. smut! dom!chris bratty!reader dynamic, begging, overstimulation sort of, rough sex, choking, name calling (bitch, whore, slut, ma, etc.) everything is ofc done with consent!! mdni 18+ !

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. sorry it took me so long! i had serious writers block omg.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. to be counted.

at the moment you were driving around with chris to run some errands. him getting his license was a game changer for you guys so you didn’t have to ask matt for a ride everytime you needed to do something.

you didn’t know why today you got irritated by everything. whether it was how chris pressed on the brake or how he was breathing like he was running out of oxygen. everything had you irritated.

“wait till the last minute to brake why don’t you?” you remarked as chris almost gave you a hard attack when you thought he was going to hit the car in front of him.

he shrugged your comment off. “the car in front of me was the one that stopped abruptly, not me baby.” you rolled your eyes keeping your gaze on the view in front of you.

“i have to stop at cvs really quickly to pick up some stuff.” you mentioned. he nodded looking where the closest cvs happened to be. he turned into the parking lot and parked. you got out not saying another word. you didn’t wait for him to turn off the car or get out either.

“what’d you need to— ” he got cut off by the slam of the car door and he watched as you went inside. what the fuck? he thought, feeling himself become annoyed at your dismissive action.

he shook his head taking a deep breath before heading in after you. he saw you grab a few items and head to the register. “can i use your card? i’m not sure how much i have in my debit and i didn’t bring my credit card.”

chris raised his brows. “after you just slammed the door in my face?” he called out, looking at you as you stood in line.

you let out a strained breath. “are you gonna let me use the fucking card or not, i don’t have time for this.” your tone laced with irritation. chris picked up on that and laughed in disbelief.

he poked his tongue with his cheek as he looked down and retrieved his wallet before handing you his card. you took it from him and went to self checkout scanning your items and inserting the card. you grabbed the receipt and left without a word.

he squinted his eyes and clenched his jaw while he observed you walking away. he controlled his temper now but his patience was starting to wear thin. he didn’t want to get into an argument now but he figured when you both got home he’d mention how you were acting.

you both sat in the car, silence louder than usual. you saw the way chris’s temper was slowly starting to rise and you admitted, you liked it. he looked so good with his jaw clenched like he was holding back from putting you in your place.

you smiled at the thought while you looked out the window as street lights passed by.

you guys finally got home and you were quick to grab your stuff and bring it inside closing the door behind you, not leaving it open for him. you knew it was a shit move but the outcome would hopefully be worth it.

you heard the door open and close harshly. oh shit.

you took off your shoes and left them by the door before setting your bags on the counter. you made sure you looked unbothered when in reality you were slightly shitting your pants. you pursed your lips trying not to show any emotion but you couldn’t help it. you smiled tightly as you tried to contain your grin.

“what the fuck you smiling about?” he was pissed. “think that shits funny?” he gestured to the door. you gulped, noticing how the veins in his neck and arms were popping out.

you dismissed him by sighing loudly before getting a soda from the fridge and popping it. “i’m serious what the fuck is up with you and that shit attitude you’ve been wearing all day.” he took off his hat combing his hair back before putting it on once again. God you were already so wet.

you took a sip of your soda and leaned against the counter staring at the kitchen wall. “swear to god you’re gonna make me do some shit to you.” he muttered under his breath trying to calm himself down. you raised your browse at his threat then laughed under your breath before taking another nice drink of the pepsi in your hand.

he crossed his arms together waiting for a response. the black shirt that hugged his body so well had your pussy pulsing. “so you’re just not gonna say shit?”

you set the pepsi down and spoke up turning to look at him. “the fuck you want me to say, kid?” the attitude that was once again laced in your voice pushed his last nerve. you grabbed the can about to bring it up to your lips before you saw it fly to the ground.

he just slapped the pepsi out of your hand.

your jaw was practically on the ground as you also noticed the splashes of soda on your perfect outfit. before you could say a thing he was quick to grab and carry you over his shoulder. “are you a fucking idiot?” you asked in disbelief as you flailed in the air. “chris. put. me. down.” you tried to get out of his grip but he was too strong.

he walked you both to your room and let you go on the bed. he closed and locked the door. “you like seeing me mad and shit?” he stood before you. you propped yourself up on your elbows just staring at him with a smile on your lips. his nostrils flared at how you seemed to enjoy his response.

his final straw was when you muttered under your breath. “like you’ll do anything about it.” one of his brows rose. he nodded slightly at your words before tugging you by your legs to the edge of the bed. he then tugged your shorts down harshly before throwing them to the side. “wanna be a bitch with your bitch ass attitude?” he questioned, not expecting an answer you were sure. “k, then you’ll get treated like one.” he unbuckled his belt, the sight looking heavenly. he through it to the side before taking off his jeans and letting them pool at his feet before pushing those to the side as well. “you know to tell me when to stop, baby.” he nodded to you, earning a nod back.

he looked down at you as you were trying to pull yourself together from being completely manhandled. he then pushed your shoulder down so you were laying on the bed. he pulled down your panties swiftly before feeling your pussy. “this wet just from me taking off your shit, ma?” he laughed humorlessly before shoving his fingers in your mouth. you swirled your tongue over and over his fingers before he pulled them out. he then went back in immediately entering his fingers inside your entrance and thrusting them in and out at a mid pace.

he kept his actions going for a few seconds, earning whimpers and moans from your pretty lips. he then sped up his pace, aggressively pushing his fingers in and out. in and out. your body spasmed as you reached your peak incredibly fast. “h-holy shit, chris! gonna cum.” you grunted feeling your orgasm crash into you. officially the fastest you’ve ever cum.

he didn’t stop his antics. at this point, he was on your side holding you down by your stomach while he continued to finger the living shit out of you. the feeling of your impending orgasm creeping up on you once again. “fucking slut, trying to get me angry just so i could fuck the shit out of you, huh?” he chuckled, the squelching noises of his fingers and your own juices clashing together were echoing through the room as well as your whines.

“please..” you and no idea what you were begging for, him to stop, or him to keep going. it just hurts so good.

he bit his lower lip as he saw his fingers disappearing in and out of you. “please what? begging like a whore already. clarify what the fuck you want?” he continued to press down on your stomach keeping you from flailing around.

all you did was nod aggressively as you felt your second orgasm crash into you without any warning. your staggered moans shot straight to chris’s dick. you could tell when you looked at his boxers and saw his apparent tent.

seconds later, you hadn’t noticed what had happened until you heard chris speak through the fog in your brain. “holy fuck. squirted all over my hand huh.” he licked your release up with a ‘pop’ as he sucked on his fingers. “not done yet. need to fuck this brat attitude out of you.” he mentioned as he saw your limp and exhausted body.

he stood up and dropped his boxers down before climbing on top of you once again. he took his cock in his hand pumping it a little bit before speaking. “mm, i got a better idea to get me ready for this pussy.” he chimed. he leaned forward grabbing you by your throat and pulling you toward him. “come on ma, get my dick wet.” he demanded. you immediately opened up your mouth to take him.

you looked up at him looking for approval as you began to move your mouth over him. you saw his lips open up, agape at the sensation you were giving him. he threaded his hands in your hair straightaway making sure you could take all of him. “mouth of a fucking angel.” he praised quietly. the non-degrading comment had your arousal dripping down your thighs. “m’kay, that’s enough.” he pulled you off before placing a hand on your neck and connecting your lips in a chaste kiss. as quick as your lips connected, they broke apart when he then pushed you down onto the bed and choked you slightly as he lined himself up with you.

he pushed in all at once taking your breath away. he wasted no time before pulling out and slamming back into you; hand still on your throat. your jaw went slack as he was ramming into you over and over again, nudging your g-spot soo good your legs already began to shake. “always take me so fucking good. fuck—” he moaned, before removing his hand from your throat and placing both of his on your waist for more support. he then plowed into you with more force than before.

he hit new angles as he moved your legs all around before resting in the position where one leg was resting over one of his shoulders. “fuck chris. right there!” you wailed trying to get a grip on anything you could but settling for the duvet you were laying on.

he had a lazy grin as his own obtrusive groans and moans made their way to your ears. “fuck— tell me, who this pussy belongs to. come on.” he needed to hear it. he was so incredibly close, he needed that nudge. “come on, baby. come on my cock as you say it. go on.” he clenched his jaw trying to hold back his orgasm.

your legs shook and knuckles turned white as you found the strength to mutter — then scream, “y-yours chris! shit—” as you clenched around his dick, during your third orgasm of the night.

he groaned and let his own orgasm hit him. he painted your walls white as he did his best to continue thrusting himself in and out of you, trying to ride out his orgasm as well as elongate your own. he did his best while his thrusts started to slow. he was sweaty as his movements finally stopped, still buried deep inside you. he took off his hat feeling the air hit his sweaty face. he threw it to the side before combing his hands through. sweaty chris… fuck.

another round couldn’t hurt, right?

© slxtarchive

[redroomreflections]

Silver Lining

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Natasha dies, Wanda helps reader with raising her baby. They didn't know they would fall in love

W/c: 4.2k

Ellie needs diapers.

It’s a simple text. A message you’re used to these days. It’s straightforward and to the point. Ellie needs diapers. Though there’s no other meaning behind the simple sentence it's a bit unsettling. You stare at the message watching as the text bubble for typing appears. You wait with a finger over your cursor for the sender to say something else. Just as quick as it appeared it leaves your screen.

Are you okay?

You want to send it back. You quickly delete the message and tuck the phone into your pocket. Guess you’ll be going to get diapers. You start the engine of your car, glancing to the bar in front of you, before pulling out of the parking lot. Wanda’s been weird lately. Distant.Cold. a little testy. You have a bit of an inkling of what it could be but your mind won’t let you go there. You’ve just come from a pretty awesome late-night dinner with your coworker, Danny. It’s the second time she’s asked you out and you accepted. It’s about time you hang out with someone other than Ellie these days. Not that Wanda isn’t a good company but You’d be an idiot to say no. Danny is kind, sweet, smart, and so damn sexy. She’s tall, runway model tall, with legs that never seemed to end. Most of all she listened. She’s the only one in the office that understands a bit of what you’ve been through so you go to her for things. It was only a matter of time for your relationship to progress. Right?

You can’t help the deep-seated guilt at leaving Wanda in the dark. She takes care of Ellie as if she’s her own. She helps whenever you need it and despite her own grief and pain, she’s always there for you. This is why you are unsure of her recent behavior. It must be something you did. Maybe she’s not comfortable with you leaving her with Ellie to go on dates? If so you’d be happy to find a babysitter to relieve her. Was she upset that you forgot to put the laundry in the dryer? Did you forget her birthday? No, that can’t be it. Wanda was so gracious and plentiful with her forgiveness. Which is why you are so confused.

The only thing open right now is the 24 hour CVS. Simple enough. You step into the store with a purpose. You find the baby aisle with ease. You’ve been here plenty of times before. The Honest Company brand is the first you spot. You’re not too keen on being loyal to a specific brand but Wanda always insists that it’s really good. You grab a pack of diapers in Ellie’s size and tuck it under your arms. You pull out your phone again to check if Wanda has messaged about anything else. You’re the only one in the store beside the cashier so you’re not in much of a rush. You step around to the second aisle where there are trashy magazines and other assortments of books on display. You grab a crossword puzzle book for you and Wanda to finish together. Maybe then she’ll tell you what’s been on her mind. You make your way to the front where you spot her favorite candy. You’re not intentionally trying to make her feel better, you technically haven’t done anything wrong, and yet you can’t help but feel that you need to make things right with her. You grab the turtle's candy from the shelf and hand it to the cashier. She bags with boredom ready to clock out of work herself. You give her thanks before taking the items and leaving the store.

It doesn’t take long for you to get home. You sit in the driveway with the lights off for a minute. You’re looking up at the house. It’s beautiful. Two-story, brick, a white picket fence. It’s everything you’ve wanted in a home. Everything Natasha wanted. It’s been a little over a year since she’s died. A little longer than that since you’ve seen her face. Ellie never got to meet her. You were eight months pregnant when Natasha and the rest of the team decided to do the mission to reverse what Thanos messed up. Your wife, a natural leader and a true hero sacrificed her own life for the greater good. Natasha was always good. Which is why you resent her so much. In her haste to save the rest of the world she left you with a baby who would never know her name, never know her smile, and never feel her arms around them.

A life you planned together was over before you could start it. You’re here with the house that you chose together and sometimes you can’t make yourself go in. It hurts to see Ellie smile and laugh knowing Natasha would never get to see that. It’s a silhouette in the front window that breaks you from your thoughts. Wanda seems to be cleaning. She hasn’t closed the curtains which you have to remind her to do often. She moved in after you had given birth to Ellie. She was no longer Avenging. She wanted something else for herself. Wanda is your rock and you’re incredibly thankful for everything she does for you and Ellie. Suddenly, as if she senses you’re home, she turns to the window to peer out. She finds you easily and gives you a small wave. You wave back.

You unbuckle your seat belt and grab your items from CVS along with your briefcase. You take slow steps up the walkway. Wanda’s planted new flowers in the garden. They’re beautiful. She opens the front door for you and takes your briefcase just as she does every day.

You plant a kiss on her cheek in hello before stepping over to allow her to close the door. Briefly you think about how domestic the greeting is. She’s your best friend. It’s always been like this.

“Hey,” Wanda greets. She rubs her arms to warm herself. It’s the middle of August. It’s not too warm but Wanda always seems to be freezing. “How was work?”

“Work was work,” You shrug. Wanda lowers her hands to take the diapers. She places them on the front steps. “I need a long vacation. What do you say about taking Ellie to Montana or something?”

“Montana?” Wanda questions. She raises a brow.

“I know there’s nothing there but that’s the point.” You say. You follow her into the kitchen. Wanda rolls up her sleeves to get started on cleaning Ellie’s dishes. She’s sleeping by now with it being way past her bedtime. The eleven-month-old is full of energy. You find yourself missing her whenever you’re away. “How was she today?”

“She was great. She has another tooth coming in so she was a bit fussy before bedtime but a bath and a song fixed all of that.” Wanda scrubs a bottle with care and precision.

“How were you today?”

She pauses to look up at you. “I’m fine.” She drops her head back to the dishes.

“Her first birthday is soon,” Wanda begins another conversation.

“Yes, I can’t believe it,” You smile. “I think we should have a small party. Nothing too flashy. Danny thinks we should do a princess theme. I’ll probably ask her to plan it since she’s good with those things.” There it is. Wanda’s frown appears and she doesn’t try to hide it this time. “Is that not a good idea?” You lean against the counter to wait for her answer.

“No, no, it’s a great idea.” Wanda shakes her head. “I was just thinking that we would plan that together. Danny doesn’t know Ellie. I mean she’s never met her and you’re not dating.” Oh. There it is. She’s upset about you spending time with Danny.

“We can plan it together.” You placate her. “I didn’t think you would want to considering you’re already so generous with your time.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to.” Wanda sets the last cup aside. “Ellie has been the highlight of my life for a while now. I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t want to help with such a milestone.”

“Okay then, we can plan it next week.” Wanda nods.

“I brought these.” You hold up the bag with the crossword puzzle and candy. Wanda eyes it before rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to have cavities because of you.” There’s no real malice in her tone. You grin before shaking the bag.

“Go change and I’ll make us tea.” Wanda takes the bag before waving you off. You plant another kiss on her cheek before running up the stairs to your bedroom. You make a pit stop at Ellie’s bedroom. Her door is cracked and the light from her night light castes the room in a light blue glow. You push it open gently. You tiptoe over to the bed where you take a second to look at her. She’s on her stomach with her hand resting near her face. Her favorite plushie, Boris the monkey, is inches away. You’re sure she fell asleep with it in her arms.

Sometimes you wonder how life with Natasha would be. How different would it be raising Ellie together? If you let yourself think too long you’ll become depressed. Natasha was the love of your life and you’d probably never be over her death. Does one ever get over that? Looking at Ellie, you’re constantly reminded of how much is being missed. You reach down to brush a hand over her head. You lean to press a kiss to her head. She twitches in her sleep before settling again.

You leave the room, closing the door behind you, before making your way to your bedroom. Deciding that a quick shower would feel amazing you step into the bathroom with that purpose. You don’t even bat an eye at Wanda’s towel resting beside yours. You take your time in the shower, allowing all of your stressors to melt away, before stepping out feeling refreshed. Wanda would be ready with the tea by now. You quickly dress and make your way downstairs to meet her in the living room. She’s already tucked under a throw blanket and she’s added a cardigan to her outfit.

“It’s amazing how you’re always so cold,” You say before joining her under the blanket. She adjusts it so that it’s covering both of your legs.

“If you kept the house at a reasonable temperature maybe I wouldn’t be.” She quips. She takes a sip of her tea before setting it on the coffee table. She grabs a pen and the crossword puzzle. She doesn’t hesitate to lean further into you so that you both can see the page. Despite her being cold, her warmth is comforting. She smells amazing. Clean. It sounds weird but it’s Wanda.

“Okay this one is literary lingo,” Wanda begins. She tucks the pen against her bottom lip as she reads across the page. “Two across says an exaggerated statement not to be taken literally.” She glances to you for help before turning back to the page.

“Hyperbole.” You answer. Piece of cake. She scribbles the answer onto the page before going to the next question. This is how much of the night goes until you finish the entire page. Wanda sets the book down in triumph. She picks up the turtle’s package and rips open the paper. She hands you one before biting into one herself. The candy is sticky and tough but delicious.

“Have you been back to the compound recently?” She asks you.

“Not really, I can’t bring myself to.” You shake your head. Going back there would only remind you of Natasha and Vision. She nods her head. She feels that way too. She chews before swallowing thickly.

“I think I want to start volunteering somewhere,” She says and you sit up a bit straighter in interest. Wanda adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing you. “I know I spend a lot of time with Ellie and I love her but I need some adult human interaction.”

“Wanda, if it’s too much please tell me, I can bring her to work with me some days and-”

“No,” She cuts you off. “It’s not that. I just want to do something good. I want to help other orphans maybe. Growing up in Sokovia without parents and then joined Hydra. I know it probably won’t be as dramatic here in America but I want to help them onto the right path. Whether with homework or reading.” Wanda’s hands move excitedly as she speaks. She’s passionate about this and you can’t help but smile seeing her so happy. She notices your look and smiles back. “What?”

“You’re a good person, Wanda Maximoff.” You reply. Her smile widens. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear.

“Thank you, y/n. I think you’re pretty good too.” She grins cheekily. “So you think I should do it?”

“I think you should. I can get Steve or Peter and MJ to watch Ellie and I’ll come with you some days.” You suggest. NYC is only a train away so you figure it won’t be too bad.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. Suddenly your arms are full of Wanda as she hugs you in gratitude. You think you're a bit touch-deprived as the feeling of Wanda in your arms is heaven-like.

“You’re the best.” Wanda smiles as she pulls back. “Are you too tired for a show?” She tilts her head towards the tv.

“No, put it on.” You watch as she grabs the remote, settling into your side again, as she finds her favorite episode of BEWITCHED.

**************************

The next few days are weekend days so you and Wanda attend a play date with another mom from the neighborhood. Her son, Tyler, is a month older than Ellie and they’re still a bit young for any real play but it’s more of a social thing. Tyler’s mom, Terry, is serving you and Wanda finger food as she talks about a new committee that’s happening in the neighborhood. They want to plan events for the coming year.

“I know things are hectic but it may be fun,” Terry shrugs as she sits across from you. “Mike probably won’t enjoy it but I’d figure us wives will.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Gives us something to do being stay-at-home moms.” This time she looks to Wanda. You don’t bother to correct her. This wouldn’t be the first time someone mistook you two for a couple since moving here.

Wanda nods, she might be considering the idea. You don’t think it sounds bad either. You’re just about to ask Terry about the type of events when Ellie crawls over to you with a toy block in one of her hands. She uses your knees to stand on her own feet. Her eyes are wide and trusting as she shows off the toy.

“It’s so nice,” You feign interest. You wonder if this is like a parent requirement. To give praise or encouragement to something your child wants to show you.

“Mama!” Ellie pushes the toy into Wanda’s lap. There’s a gasp but you can’t quite tell who it’s from. Wanda looks to you for the next step. “Mama!” Ellie is insistent as she pushes the toy further into Wanda’s lap.

“Go ahead, Mama.” You find your voice. You emphasize the title with a gesture to Ellie. Wanda swallows thickly before nodding. She looks down at Ellie before pulling her into her lap. The slipup was forgotten as she inspects the toy and puts on a voice for the toddler.

“Is this her first time saying it?” Terry asks with a smile noting your reactions.

“It’s the first time she’s directed it towards either of us.” You inform her. It’s true. Ellie has said Mama before in passing but she was never so indicative about whom she was talking to. Seeing her direct it to Wanda was startling but heartwarming. It brings tears to your eyes. Seeing the other woman respond and play with Ellie with such care. Wanda looks over to you with a smile before turning her attention back to Ellie.

Whoa. What was that you’re feeling? Butterflies. You haven't felt those in a while. Suddenly you feel as if you’re suffocating. The room feels smaller and you need space. You stand, excusing yourself from the room, to find a bathroom. You go to the one Terry directs you to. Wanda watches as you leave with a frown. Did something happen? You push the door closed leaning your head against it as you take harsh, breaths.

Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. Your best friend. You’re in love with her. It’s a thought that makes you want to puke. You don’t know how it has happened or when it’s happened but suddenly all of your feelings make sense. How happy you are to see her. Even on your date with Danny, all you could think about was Wanda. Coming home to Wanda. Spending time with Wanda. Kissing Wanda. Making love to her.

You gasp. This can’t be. You shake your head hoping it will rid you of the thoughts. Wanda lost the love of her life. You lost yours. It could be nothing more than what it was. She probably didn’t even feel the same way.

Life is crazy.

The car ride home is ridden in silence. Ellie has fallen asleep after the playdate. You glance at Wanda every few minutes. You don’t realize she’s looking at you too. You park in the driveway, helping her with Ellie’s bag when your hand brushes against hers. You pull away hiding the effect it has on you as you walk into the house. You put Ellie to bed on your own while Wanda does god knows what downstairs. You take your time dressing in a t-shirt and shorts before sitting on the bottom step to tie your shoes.

Wanda steps into the foyer to ask where you’re going. You both only just got home. She didn’t know you had plans to do anything.

“For a run,” This surprises her even further. You don’t like running. You despise it and yet here you are gearing up to run.

“You hate running,” Wanda points out. “In fact, the last time Steve suggested you run you told him you would rather have crows poke your eyes out and eat them for breakfast.”

Damn. You did say that.

“I’m trying something different,” You shrug. You stand to stretch before heading for the front door.

Wanda follows after you. Before you turn the knob she calls out to you.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” You pause and turn back to her.

“Overstep? Why would you think that?” You question her.

“Well, Ellie called me Mama and I know that’s what she would have called Nat. I’m not her mother.” Wanda folds her arms under her chest. A nervous move. “I thought you might be uncomfortable with that.”

“No, Wanda, that’s not it at all,” You assure her. “I’m so happy that Ellie views you as her Mama. There’s no one I would rather have that title. You are her Mama.” Wanda nods with tears in her eyes. Maybe she’s wanted that without really knowing. You find yourself wanting to kiss her tears away. Again. Whoa.

“Okay,” She gives you a small smile. “Have fun on your run.” She tells you and you nod. She watches you exit the front door. You do a few final stretches before you plug your headphones into your ear. Guess it was time to run.

It’s been two hours the next time you walk through the front door. The lights off save for the foyer. You kick off your shoes, rubbing your forehead with your sweaty shirt before you make your way upstairs. Wanda must be asleep. You check on Ellie as you do every night. She’s sound asleep. You hop into the shower and allow yourself to stand under the scalding hot water. You’re going to regret running so much in the morning. Your thoughts are riddled with Wanda as you shower, when you dry off, and when you dress. You can’t stop thinking of her. You don’t know what prompts you to do it but you suddenly find yourself in front of her bedroom door. Her lights are off but you knock anyway. No answer.

You twist the knob to find the door unlocked. You open the door and call her. She’s on her side facing away from the door. Her posture is a bit stiff.

“Wanda?” You question.

“Yeah?” She whispers into the darkness. She turns over just as you climb into the bed. You’re under the covers now and briefly you think about how comfortable her bed is. You can see her through the light emanating from her window. Her cheeks are stained with dry tear tracks. She’s been crying. “Y/n?” She tries to hide the shake in her voice as you look at her. It’s now or never.

Your eyes fly down to her lips then back to her eyes. You lift a hand to caress her cheek as you lean to plant a chaste kiss against her lips. She gasps, quickly recovering, before kissing you back. You pull back keeping your eyes closed. If you open them to her being angry with you, you don’t know if you’ll forgive yourself.

“Y/n,” Wanda asks.

“Wanda,” You whimper.

“Open your eyes, Malysh.” She raises her hand to rub her thumb against your hand still caressing your face. She takes hold of it before lowering it to lie on the covers between you. She never let's go. You open your eyes slowly to find nothing that you were afraid of.

“I wasn’t mad that Ellie called you Mama,” You repeat your sentiment from earlier. “I was confused. Her calling you Mama made me realize a few things.” Wanda listens. “You’ve been here through it all and yet I’ve never seen you for you until now. My selfless, sweet, Wanda.” You don’t know what you’re saying at this point. All you know is you want Wanda to know how much she means to you.

“I feel the same,” She doesn’t need to you say the words. She knows.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize all of this time what was right in front of me,” You frown. “I can’t believe how long I wanted to kiss you and I didn’t see it as anything other than platonic.”

“I realized a couple of weeks ago.” You lift your head to rest on your elbows. “When you went out with Danny for the first time. I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry about it. Then I knew why. I wanted it to be me.”

“Wanda, why didn’t you say something?” You ask. “If I knew I wouldn’t have gone out with her.”

“I didn’t want to stand in the way of you finding love again,” Wanda shrugs.

“I don’t love Danny,”

“But you could,” Wanda points out.

“No, I couldn’t.” You say firmly. “Not when I love you.” It’s the first time you’re verbalizing this. “Don’t be a martyr when it comes to your heart, Wanda. Even with me.” You squeeze her hand. “It took me some time but I want you.”

“How do you know that after only a couple of hours?” She asks.

“It hasn’t been a couple of hours,” You shoot back. “It’s been months. The late nights with Ellie. The dinners we have. Our crossword nights. I enjoy them. I look forward to them. We’ve been spending a life together without us even realizing it. I want more with you. If you want it too.”

Wanda surges forward pushing you onto your back as she kisses you with a passion that has you moaning against her lips. The weight of her on top of you is pure bliss. All you can think, feel, and smell is Wanda. Reluctantly she pulls back to take in a deep breath.

“I want it too.” She doesn’t wait for you to answer as she kisses you again.

Five years later

“Mama, Mama, we got ice cream.” Ellie races across the park with your golden retriever, Max, in tow. She’s hanging onto the leash very loosely as she waves around the popsicles she has in her hand. Wanda looks up from her book to inspect the items as Ellie pushes them into her hands. You’re a few feet behind watching as Wanda interacts with the little girl.

“Do you think the baby likes fudgesicles?” Ellie asks as she drops down on the picnic blanket.

“I don’t know, Kiddo, you have to ask him.” You say as you sit next to Max. You watch with pure adoration as Ellie takes it upon herself to lift Wanda’s shirt to expose her swollen belly. Wanda looks over to you with amusement in her eyes.

“Hi baby brother or sister,” Ellie begins. “Mommy told me to ask you if you like Fudgesicles. I bought some for you.” Ellie waits as if she’s truly expecting an answer. “Baby says yes.” She looks up at Wanda for confirmation. Wanda takes the Fudgesicle with gratitude as she licks into it.

“I think baby made a good choice,” Wanda grins. She runs her free hands over Ellie’s brown ringlets to smooth it down a bit.

“Me too,” Ellie says in between licks.

“I think I made a good choice,” You say and Wanda nods. Her too.

[fairyrcts]

WHY WHY WHY , M.S.

by fairyrcts contents - (unresolved) angst , intended lowercase , pet names , 2nd person , pregnancy , cursing

warning ! - this may be triggering to some readers as this story does include pregnancy and abandonment. please read with caution.

an - i unironically love shawn mendes and i needed some dad matt stuff :P

taglist - @pvssychicken , @gothiccvnt6996 , @emely9274

you'd woken up feeling absolutely terrible. you were sick to your stomach, throwing up every now and then.

matt sat on the bathroom floor beside you, rubbing your back in attempt to sooth you.

"this is so weird. you were just fine yesterday." he mumbled to himself.

"i fuckin' know."

you had no idea what came over you today. no one at work was sick, you hadn't eaten anything bad. you were confused as to why this was happening.

matthew knew you hadn't been in contact with anyone who was ill and you hadn't even left the house in a day or two, so he was confused himself.

he felt terrible that all this was happening to you. "do you think it might just be your period?"

his voice took you out of your thoughts. no, it wasn't your period. in fact, you were late. four days late to your period.

"uh, no. i'm pretty sure i'm late." you spoke quietly, scared of the response to what you had just admitted.

matt took a second to process the words that had left your mouth. he began racking his brain with the possibilities.

"do you think you're.. pregnant?" he could barely bring himself to say the word. he wasn't ready to be a father whatsoever.

the words hit you hard. pregnant?

"i dunno.." you managed to let out.

matt's breath audibly caught in his throat. "i- do you wanna get a test?"

you avoided the question for a moment, not knowing if you were even ready to find out.

"yeah, okay." a sigh followed your sentence.

the two of you stood up, walking out to the car in silence. he didn't bother opening your door like he usually does or ask what song you felt like playing.

he was insanely stressed. you'd only been dating 8 months but you were incredibly connected.

you'd moved in together a while back, you'd both met each others parents and to say you loved each other was an understatement.

but becoming parents? that's a completely different story.

he pulled the car into the cvs parking lot. "i'll be right back." he muttered to which you nodded.

when he exited the vehicle, you were left alone with your thoughts.

you knew you probably weren't ready for this big of a thing. having a kid together was huge and you were barely even an adult.

but deep down you knew if that test came out positive, you'd make yourself ready for the situation. and you had no doubt that you and matt could handle this within time.

right?

matthew came back with two boxes in his hand. "i got two just in case."

he gave you a tight-lipped smile to try and give you some sense of comfort. he was aware you were probably as nervous as he was.

you reciprocated that smile and drove the rest of the way home in silence.

the second you walked into your apartment you let out a deep exhale. you knew this was gonna be a heavy moment.

"uhm, okay. i'll- uh. i'll wait on the couch." matt said, finally managing to make eye contact with you for the first time in fifteen minutes, giving you some hope.

while you were in the bathroom, matt mentally lost it. he had no absolute idea how he was going to handle this if it came back positive.

he began biting his already less than short nails even farther down to the nub. he bit back his lip to keep tears from streaming down his face.

after a couple of moments, he turned his head at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

you stood in the doorway with a nervous look written all over you.

"matt, i'm pregnant." you spoke just above a whisper.

his eyes widened at the new found information.

"seriously?" he allowed himself to choke out.

you gave him a nod, a smile just barely noticeable on your face as you thought about how great this could turn out to be for the two of you.

"y/n, i'm not ready to be a dad. i'm barely 21, i can't be a fucking father." matt stood up, running a hand through his disheveled, brown hair.

your face immediately faltered. "what?"

"i'm not capable of taking care of children right now. i still have my whole life to live." he raised his voice ever so slightly, but enough to cause a few tears to leave your eyes.

"you don't have a choice. you act like this isn't partially on you too!" the words left your lips as you became more and more upset by his reaction.

this is nowhere near how you imagined this would go.

this is not the matt you knew. the matt you knew would tell you it's okay and would support you through the situation.

"it was a mistake! i can't do this!" you weren't the only one crying now as the conversation got more intense.

"that's too damn bad! you have a kid now, matthew! man up!"

matt simply shook his head, looking like he was ready to break down completely.

"i don't know what to fucking tell you, y/n." his voice came out shaky.

"tell me we're in this together! that you and i can get through this! we're a team, remember? what happened to that?!"

"what happened was you got pregnant!" he shouted, regretting what he had said instantly.

"you're telling me that all of a sudden everything between you and i has changed i'm pregnant? mind you, the person responsible for this was you!"

matt remained silent, not even knowing how to respond.

you tried your best not to lose it in front of him before he spoke up again, this time quieter.

"fucking say something, matthew!" you yelled, the words getting croaked up in your throat due to the amount of sobbing taking place.

"i'm sorry, i can't do this."

and with that, he left the apartment, leaving you alone, sobbing in your living room.

[ayeforscotland]

Honestly I am in favour of some sort of compulsory civilian service - I believe in Austria you can opt to do that instead of compulsory military service. 12 months compulsory working for the police, NHS, fire service, or in the national parks or something. All the benefits of military service and much less fascist vibes. It could massively change the dynamics of eg the police to have the actual population reflected in their make up, increase social mobility through mixing with people from different backgrounds and getting a solid CV started, and much less chance for rich people to pay a doctor to say they should be medically exempt like in other countries.

Yeah, I get where you’re coming from. I think it’s a policy which can sound really good on paper, but I still think the implementation UK-wide would end up being a nightmare.

Cash-strapped local councils etc aren’t going to devote any resources to facilitating it.

A government job-guarantee program would be a lot more interesting, and could hugely impact social mobility.

[pumpkinbxtch]

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗰𝘃𝘀! ᯓᡣ𐭩

— leo valdez x f!reader

radiostar is playing… cvs by winnetka bowling league!

warnings: none a/n: based on a song that is one of my all-time favorites. This is because our Leo won the poll!

𝐋eo's hair fluttered in the wind as he urged Festus with kicks to go faster, all because he was running late, like really freaking late. The brunette bit his lip as he saw the time on the clock at the back of his bronze dragon's head, and sensing his owner's urgency, Festus let out a huff mixed with a metallic whine.

— She's gonna kill me — he exclaimed, and the mechanical beast growled, steering in an unexpected direction. Apparently, Festus wanted to stop, which Leo thought was the worst timing. — Buddy, not now!

Ignoring him, they ended up right in front of a CVS. What would the parking lot folks think? With any luck, they’d assume Leo had just hopped out of a monster truck, as the dragon's height was the only thing that might make sense to normal mortals.

— What? Is your paw hurting, man? This isn't even for you!

But that wasn't Festus's aim. Now, the dragon felt like the only intelligent being around, though there was no way to tell Leo, no time. He nudged him towards the automatic doors, hoping the son of Hephaestus would be smart enough to figure it out like he always did with Festus’s unspoken needs.

— But... — Leo started to turn around, and the dragon growled, puffing out a bit of hot smoke that made Leo close his eyes in resignation. All he got from that was something like, "Get going, man, hurry up!" So not knowing exactly what for, he went in anyway.

And, oh, god bless CVS.

Right at the entrance was a display with last-minute items. Leo grabbed a heart-shaped box of chocolates and some flowers and the boy ended up clutching them tightly to his chest as Festus managed the speed.

— Thanks, bro – ah! Slow down a bit, I want to get there alive!

Once again, the dragon ignored him, but at least Leo wasn't even later. He hopped off half a block away and walked with the gifts still pressed to his chest. His heart raced even more when he saw you sitting under a tree, reading with headphones on, noticing how you furrowed your brow from a distance.

— Oh, holy Hephaestus — Leo muttered a few meters from you, hiding the chocolates and flowers behind his back, trying to pull off a casual smile.

It wasn’t until his Converse shoes peeked out from under your book that you looked up. He was a mess, his hair all over the place, and you could tell he had taken the fast route, with leaves and trash stuck in his curly hair.

— Hey, babe — he said with a wide smile, trying to keep it casual. You shook your head with puffed cheeks, and he slumped his shoulders, knowing you were mad. But his despair didn't last long as he remembered his ace up his sleeve (or Festus’s paw).

Your boyfriend revealed the gifts and knelt to offer them as if they were the world’s greatest treasures. He had never done something like this, and it seemed fitting since you had just talked about something similar in front of the bronze dragon with a friend of yours. Of course, Festus had been in luggage mode at the time, so no one suspected anything.

— From me, to you, my sweet angel — Leo said with a radiant smile, his cheeks starting to blush. You smiled, took off your headphones, and accepted the gifts, smelled the roses and looked at the box of chocolates. Your boyfriend thought he was in the clear when you gave him a small kiss on the lips. But then, while stroking his hair and giving him another one on the cheek, you whispered in his ear.

— Tell Festus thanks, love. I forgive him. But not you.

[feartoxinjelloshot]

clipsverse SWAP AU! for fun! character elaboration under the cut because it gets kind of wordy:

selina's deal is pretty straightforward: she has the typical “saw parents die as a child" backstory, but she’s obviously not a millionare so she’s operating out of some kind of condemned underground parking lot... somewhere. authentic gotham grunge i guess. she’s a functioning alcoholic and i am obsessed with her. she's a hardboiled detective like batman, but tends to be a bit more cynical - sort of like if rorschach from watchmen was a normal person and also didn't hate sex. firefly is her "guy in the chair" similar to what alfred is to batman in canon, minus the surrogate parent part, obviously. public opinion is pretty split on if the bat is a man or a woman under there. i don't really have swap ideas for the robins ironed out, but i'm thinking that cass and stephanie are her robin and red hood equivalents (cass being dick, stephanie being jason). cass would have an allblack bird theme going on, so she might be "crow" or "blackbird" instead of robin. dunno what stephanie's red hood rendition is like. purple hood? i'll figure it out eventually.

bruce’s parents are alive, but he has a terrible relationship with them and with his own wealth so he mitigates the guilt complex by dressing up as a cat to steal and redistribute resources to people who actually need it. he could probably do that in daylight but there is something very wrong with him. i don't think his dumb slutty playboy persona is entirely genuine even without his parents' deaths, but he does lean into it more and incorporate parts of it into his vigilante persona over time. i think this version of bruce is just generally very lonely under the surface. he tries to be normal in his daytime life and he's very bad at it - theft aside, in a certain sense being the cat(man? woman?) is his own break for freedom; he felt a need to plunge himself far into the deep end of what normal society calls a 'freak'. ...writing it out like this, we're probably lucky he didn't start killing people. fortunately batman isn't really that kind of guy in any universe.

meanwhile on the other side of the rails: ivy! her deal is slightly unformed right now due to the fact that the hatter and the joker also swap places in this au - so the hatter is a dangerous, evil mastermind intent on controlling gotham to suit their whims, and the joker is... just a harmless silly little guy. yeah. i don't have swap-hatter's exact personality ironed out yet, so detailing his and ivy's dynamic would be difficult, but i can say that while she is his loyal second-in-command at his table of advisors, she is also plotting against him. ivy is a consistent loner in both mainline cv and here, and while she doesn't have the same tumultuous, antagonistic, emotional relationship with him as harley does with the joker, she is also frankly not interested in being his number one until the end of time. she wants to do it herself and she wants to do it right. this is an ivy who, in lieu of her own world-altering gift, is scraping tooth and nail to successfully supersede the most powerful entity she can her her hands on. the hatter is blissfully unaware of this - we can't all be perfect.

harley, for her part, is very tame in comparison. she mirrors ivy's canonical backstory pretty closely: an esteemed scientist studying stem cell relations who was denied funding, mocked, and forced to experiment on herself to prove a point, unwittingly connecting herself to a worldwide hive-mind of plantlife. this version of harley, while still dressed as a scientist, is far more surface-level emotionally volatile than mainline ivy, more impulsive and irrational, and probably willing to lean much farther into the classic poison ivy reputation as a villainous seductress, to varying degrees of honesty and success. it takes ivy an incredible degree of patience and control to maintain the mental and physical balance she strikes with the green, and this version of harley has far less of both. she lets it use her body as a conduit of earthly rage and she lets the poison infect her skin and organs until mottled and decaying. she's not unhappy, but she's not exactly stable, either.

jonathan is a mysterious, faux-sleazy lounge singer who lost his left arm to a snake bite infection as a child and thereafter became obsessed with the symbolism of the balance of life via games, tricks and questions - winning and losing, birth and death, etc. the ouroboros is a common symbol in his theatrics. he possesses a certain degree of social confidence that the mainline jonathan has never quite been capable of - while he doesn't have the same fervent need for attention as edward, he takes a compulsory delight in the mental influence he achieves on small crowds and will employ many avenues to get ahold of it. he's certainly not outgoing: he keeps almost entirely to himself offstage, uninterested in fame outside of his show persona. unlike mainline jonathan who views the scarecrow as a genuine self-inflicted diety, this jon sees his persona as more of a mantle or responsibility that he must take on in order to discover new truths about the world. like his canon counterpart he is asexual and uninterested in sex, but i imagine that he has less qualms about leading people on as an act to get what he wants from them. he's not terribly famous in his singing career, but he's become a bit of an underground legend for his resolute 1920s-inspired style and occasional genuine debonair charm.

edward in comparison is not nearly as ritualistically compelled as mainline scarecrow, but he’s far less cagey about his own machinations and his mental relationship to them: he lives in a tricked-out barn somewhere on the far outskirts of gotham, and he spends his time as a propmaster creating elaborate saw-trap-esque haunted houses and escape rooms to invoke panic in his “guests”. he wanders the halls of his own houses along with the guests, repairing and tinkering, or just scaring the shit out of them. he also makes a genuine living by making and selling cosplay props and other related objects online; he's developed a bit of an internet presence through this channel, though he's not as fixated on it as the mainline riddler would be. he still craves spectacle and attention, but he's more of a "quality over quantity" guy according to his own standards and is rarely happy with the work he creates, hence the endless roundabout of creation and reinvention.

[mothhball]

I – BIVIUM

bivium – a meeting-place of two roads

JONATHAN CRANE X FEM!READER

summary You need this internship. You're hungry for a challenge, desperate to prove yourself. Against your mentor's wishes, you applied to Arkham Asylum, aware of the risks and difficulties. But when you meet the enigmatic Dr. Crane for the internship interview, you get the feeling that this could work out nicely, after all.

warnings none aside from brief mentions and descriptions of anxiety and some bad language! enjoy a chill first chapter <3 for more general warnings for the rest of the story, please check out the masterlist

notes first multichapter thing! i'm just as scared as you guys lol this is set in the Nolanverse, but before Batman Begins, and it's gonna be a semi-slowburn (sorry haha)

! MINORS DNI !

story masterlist • main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 3.9k

As expected, the rest of your week turns out to be torturous. Whenever a second of calm rears its head, you make sure to squash it immediately by thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen during the interview. Your life, your achievements, your very personality get mercilessly torn apart by your viciously overthinking brain, and you could almost scream with joy by the time Friday comes around. Finally, the wait would be over. But unfortunately, that thought is a double-edged sword. Because yes, you’ll get to prove yourself. But God, you’ll have to prove yourself. Luckily for you, your urge to get somewhere in life prevails against the wish to not be perceived at all.

It's almost comical how horrendous the weather is on your way to Arkham Asylum. It’s like someone ordered the deluxe experience, making sure to include intense rain, thunder and an additional helping of lightning that turns your car into a rolling Faraday cage, which keeps the electricity outside and your anxiety inside.

Navigating the Narrows is a challenge in itself, and a few times you have to curse under your breath and turn down the car radio in an attempt to “see better”. Then finally, the road signs start to pop up, leading you along your way like desperately needed little breadcrumbs. People usually don’t make their way into this part of Gotham without a good reason. Your good reason of the day is to market yourself as a great potential employee.

A sigh of relief escapes your dry throat when you finally turn off your motor in the Arkham parking lot. It’s not that busy, and you’re not surprised. The rumors about the institution's understaffing must’ve been an understatement. Your hand is already shaking as you reach for a water bottle. Christ, your nerves are bad today. The environment doesn’t help either. The few barren trees on the property reach up their blackened limbs like bony fingers trying to rip the clouds from the sky, and even the sparse patches of grass look almost completely desaturated. Above all, Arkham Asylum looms ahead, exuding the same energy as an ancient beast banned into the form of bricks and cement rather than a proper construction.

The building doesn't seem to be in the right place, you think to yourself. As if an architecture student misplaced their model on another's desk. A desk where the model of a haunted house was supposed to be placed instead. But once you swallow the sip of water and check yourself in the car’s rearview mirror, you decide to approach anyway. The only offering you previously sent in advance was your CV. Hopefully, it’s good enough to not let you get eaten alive by this monstrosity of an asylum. Is it just you, or does the sound of your shoes crunching on the gravel sound like chewing already?

Unfortunately, the rain doesn’t give you much of an opportunity to stall the pace of your steps, forcing you to hurry through the main entrance in favor of staying relatively dry.

The large windows of the entry hall of Arkham Asylum were meant for sunlight, you muse silently. Meant for days with better weather than Gotham could ever provide. But the construction is confined to the dirty, foggy streets of the Narrows; doomed to eternal gloom and ominous scenery.

You look and feel a little lost as you look around the room, secretly disappointed that Dr. Crane didn't make the effort to pick you up here. But you're not a victim of learned helplessness, so you decide to walk over to the reception to make yourself known.

"Excuse me?"

The receptionist looks up from the book she's reading, flipping a page as she looks at you from top to bottom and right back up to the top. You can't help but wonder how many people have withered beneath her critical eye before you came along. Maybe she has a pile of skeletons already stashed away in one of her drawers.

"You're here for the interview, right?" She concludes by herself, looking over at a list of names on her desk. The list of your competitors, no doubt. You nod, suddenly very aware of what's at stake here. You have to ace this if you don't want to be confined to a summer of endless boredom and excruciating staff meetings at Potomac.

"You're early. That's great," the receptionist drones on, sounding not too enthusiastic despite what she’s saying. "Head through this door right here. You'll get a visitor's badge after the security check. After that, head up to the third floor. The rest is pretty self-explanatory. Dr. Crane will be waiting in his office."

You manage to mutter a ‘thanks’, but she’s already immersed in her book again, obviously done with the conversation. To avoid lingering for an awkward moment too long, you immediately head through the doors and further into the building to get through the security check.

Unsurprisingly, the security protocol is pretty strict, and while your bag is being searched by one guard, you're waved through a metal detector by another. It's like a miniature TSA, and once you explain the reason for your visit, you're allowed to put your shoes and jacket back on. Getting handed the little visitor’s badge on a lanyard feels like a rite of passage, and once you hang it around your neck, you feel even more weighed down than before.

One hellish elevator ride full of janky movements and devious mechanical noises later, the antique means of transport spits you out on the third floor of Arkham Asylum. It’s eerily quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you can hear every step of your freshly shined shoes on the linoleum floors echoing down the hallway. Up here, the absence of sunlight through the large windows is even more obvious, and the smell of petrichor and a faint hint of disinfectant add to the already dreary atmosphere. Would you really be able to last the summer in a place like this? Maybe you should’ve stuck to Potomac after all. At least that place had a well-kept garden full of rose bushes and swanky outdoor furniture sets.

The moment you regret that thought is also the moment that you realize you’re completely lost.

Every turn, every door and every hallway look the same, and the more you try to make sense of it, the more disoriented you feel. It’s like trying to run in a dream. Everything is complicated; feels slow. Fear creeps into your bones. What time is it? How long have you been wandering around? You’re going to be late for the interview. Fuck. The interview. Your internship. Your future. Dr. Crane will be disappointed. He’ll see right through you. See how scared you are. Of a fucking floor in a fucking building. You’re going to –

“Lost, are we?”

The rapidly spinning carousel of your mind immediately comes to a screeching halt due to a voice behind you, and it’s a miracle that you don’t flinch. You turn stiffly, feeling like a doll whose head has been turned by the hand of a child. Definitely the opposite of the first impression you had planned on making. Your eyes meet his, clashing with blue so icy that your fingers feel cold. The photos you saw in the newspapers failed to convey just how striking the director of Arkham Asylum truly is.

Swallowing your nerves, you force yourself to straighten up and smile, letting go of the strap of your bag that you were clutching onto like a lifeline. Confident posture, confident body language. In the eyes of any other employer, you’d look like a dream. But Dr. Jonathan Crane’s face doesn’t move a single muscle.

“Ah, yes. I suppose I am,” you admit, removing your visitor’s badge from around your neck and holding it out to him. Dr. Crane takes it, pointedly making sure that his fingers don’t touch yours. There’s a glint of recognition in his gaze when he reads your name that a security guard haphazardly wrote onto the back.

“I was on my way to your office for the internship interview, but this place is like a maze... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t,” Crane answers with a tiny, sardonic smile. “I was just on my way as well. And you were already heading in the right direction anyway.”

He hands you back your badge, and you return it to its rightful place around your neck. Crane gestures towards a door with its number next to it on a neat little sign. He taps it, drawing your attention to a little red stripe in the bottom left corner.

“Allow me to let you in on a little trick regarding the navigation at Arkham,” he starts, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “No matter where you are on this floor, if you follow the red stripes, you’ll end up at my office eventually. The markers alternate in direction, so it’s easy to follow once you get used to it.”

“Like a little red thread,” you muse, looking around. Now that he mentioned it, the red stripes are almost glaringly obvious. You can’t help but feel a little special, because he shared such important information with you. Even though your competitors most likely got the same treatment. “So, everything else looks identical on purpose?”

“Precisely,” Dr. Crane responds with a nod. “Sometimes, we have some… difficult patients. The need to be free is part of the human nature for most. But that doesn’t mean we should make it easy for them to escape.”

“That makes sense,” you nod back at him, resisting the urge to fidget now that his attention is back on you and no longer on the navigational system of this behemoth of a building. But the psychiatrist just motions for you to follow him, not allowing the silence to grow into something palpable that would waste his time.

“Walk with me. You know the way now.”

And so, the two of you are off, walking side by side at the pace that Crane sets for the both of you. You hurry to match his strides, making sure not to seem too eager now that you know how to find his office. To your dismay, the interview starts right this second.

“How much experience do you have?”

“I did 3 months at Potomac – “ you answer, promptly getting cut off when the director scoffs under his breath.

“So, basically none.”

Ouch. But he’s not wrong. You did learn how to navigate the rich and entitled, and you know how to keep a killer file structure now, but that’s almost it. In hindsight, Dr. Rabin underutilized you so much it should’ve been a criminal offense. You swallow your ego and agree with him, figuring it might be what he wants to hear.

“That's... pretty much what I told Professor Campbell as well.”

Dr. Crane’s brows furrow. He makes no effort to conceal his contempt for your mild-mannered mentor, sounding noticeably incredulous as he responds.

“Campbell? She's overseeing your thesis?”

You mirror his expression, but in your case, it’s due to genuine confusion.

“Yeah... I thought I wrote it in the application? Did you read it?”

“Skimmed it. I don't have much time for the menial details. Doesn’t matter. You’ve made it here regardless, haven't you? Maybe it was for the best that I skipped some parts,” he shrugs, not caring for the little frown that threatens to pull at your lips. Luckily, you manage to reign in your expression. Don’t let him get to you. This is just hazing.

“In any case, Dr. Rabin was more than happy with my work,” you counter, keeping your tone pleasant.

“Sure. What a wonderful letter of recommendation it was,” he says, sounding amused in a mocking kind of way. “But come on, we both know what kind of establishment Potomac is. That's why you're here, isn't it? To have a challenge. To actually make an impact.”

This makes you stop in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, forcing Crane to pause along with you. As much as you’re trying to hide that small feeling of triumph, it’s easy to tell from the glint in your eyes that you see this as a little personal victory.

“So, you did read my motivational letter,” you conclude, raising an eyebrow.

You swear the corners of his lips twitch upwards for a split second. Whether that’s in amusement or disgust at your audacity, you’re not quite sure. From what you know about Crane (which is, admittedly, not much), you decide on the latter. But to your surprise, he quips back in that rumbly baritone, making a point to clasp his hands behind his back.

“Might've been one of the sections I skimmed more closely,” he shrugs, briefly looking away from you to notice a stack of files that a passing nurse is carrying. Nosy. Or just used to being involved in everyone’s business. Letting out a sigh, he continues, dragging his eyes back to meet yours.

“Truthfully, I believe those motivational statements are the most important part. Not grades, not recommendations. They look nice on paper, yes. But at the end of the day, I've had interns here with a perfect GPA, glowing reviews from paper-pushing professors like your dear Ms. Campbell, and you know what? Those precious show horses barely lasted a month. Because Arkham chewed them up and spat them out like the gum under those dreadful desks in the Gotham U lecture halls.”

The comparison is fitting, and you cringe a little when you remember the last time you accidentally touched one of those forgotten, dried-up clumps of a stranger’s saliva and polymers.

“Well, I might not be a show horse, but I’m certain that I could jump any hurdle you put in front of me.”

“Delightfully ambitious. But I make sure to stack those hurdles high.” His expression tells you that he’s in no way joking around, and you swallow dryly as the two of you reach his office, and he lets you go in first.

The office is cold and impersonal. No plants, no decorations. No family photos on his desk or frames on the walls aside from his degrees. Rows of filing cabinets are filling out the room, as well as a large bookshelf that’s seemingly overflowing with literature. Some of the books have been handled and read so often that the spines are cracked and withered, almost making you empathize with them.

The faint smell of coffee, cologne and chemicals hangs in the air, and the curtains are drawn, making the office seem even darker and isolated than it already is. Crane seems to exude the spirit of the asylum as well, living and breathing the ominous gloom. The doctor steps past you, pushing several empty cups to the side, but not bothering with the stack of folders that’s also cluttering the space. Busy. Or counting on someone else to sort his mess and his thoughts.

"Sit,” he says, pointing at the empty chair in front of his desk.

You know it’s not an offer. It’s a command. And you immediately comply, eager to please the man who holds the cards regarding your future. Setting your bag down next to your feet, you mentally anticipate his next words.

"Go on, then. Tell me about yourself."

You straighten up in your seat, already prepared for this question, so you rattle off the main facts. Your name, age, and main areas of interest when it comes to psychology. Hell, you even mention the high school you went to, even though it's been ages. As soon as you mention Potomac, Dr. Crane holds up a hand to stop you.

"Thank you. That's enough, I suppose. No need to tell me how you wasted your time there."

He flips through a file, letting you stew in the awkward silence for a solid minute before he sees it fit to show mercy.

"Could I ask you some personal questions? We’re looking for a specific type of person, after all," he says, looking up from the document. "So, I'm afraid that the shallow chit-chat won't suffice."

“Of course,” you nod, making sure your smile stays relaxed and pleasant.

Crane picks a pen out of a pencil holder on his desk, clicking it twice before he puts it to the paper that you now recognize as your CV and application letter. The psychiatrist clears his throat and rattles off some more of the standard questions. How well do you work under pressure? Which meds do you currently take? How frequently do you consume alcohol and other recreational drugs?

You manage to elegantly fight your way through your answers, sprinkling in a few white lies here and there. There’s no way you’d tell a potential employer about your preference for tequila or how many times you’ve cried after a long day of work and uni. Your secrets are yours. So, you tell him that you work excellently under pressure and only drink very occasionally. What the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over. Or whatever. His second to last question, however, makes you pause a little.

“What is your current living situation and relationship status?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment before Dr. Crane feels the need to clarify.

“Our interns usually have a rather tight schedule, and since the work with humans has the tendency to be a little unpredictable, it’s good to know how long the drive here usually is. In case it’s an emergency and we’ll have to wait for you. As for my inquiry about a potential partner, it’s useful to know how much time personal matters would take up in your life.”

You shift in your seat, chewing on the inside of your lip for a second before you mentally reprimand yourself for such a nervous gesture.

“I’m currently living with my boyfriend. We’re renting an apartment in Haysville.”

“Haysville…,” Crane thinks out loud, visualizing a map of Gotham in his head. “That’s quite a drive, though. Isn’t it?”

“The drive won’t be a problem,” you assure him, silently hoping and praying that this tiny detail didn’t just ruin your chances completely. “I have a car. And… if I leave home early enough, I can avoid traffic.”

You’re met with silence as Dr. Crane takes a moment to write something down on your printed-out CV. You absolutely despise that you can’t decipher his handwriting from where you’re sitting. You despise that you don’t know what he’s thinking. And you despise yourself for living in Haysville of all places, instead of in the damn parking lot of the asylum, so you’d always be available. In that world, there’d be no argument against you. In that world, you wouldn’t overthink the barely five seconds of silence that settled between Crane and yourself.

Finally, he lifts his gaze to meet yours once more.

“I must admit, everything so far sounds quite promising. I shouldn’t be saying this, but I’m quite optimistic that you’ll hear back from us.” He doesn’t smile, and there’s no warmth in his voice, but his words are like liquid gold dripping right into your ears. “In the event that you're accepted for one of the three internship spots, you’ll receive an envelope. That’ll be quite thick since it will contain your contract as well as an NDA and some additional paperwork.”

Your face lights up like a Christmas tree, and your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find the words to speak.

“That… would be absolutely incredible.”

“Now, now,” he lifts his hand, already stopping you before you’re too far gone over the moon. “This isn’t a ‘yes’ quite yet. I’ll hand my opinion over to the rest of the staff, and they’ll decide whether to give you a spot. They’re the ones with whom you’ll be primarily working, after all.”

He seems to think about his own words for a beat, considering what your role would be at Arkham Asylum. But you don’t really care. Even just a positive statement from him could be crucial.

“Regardless,” you say, unable to keep your smile from growing. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, Dr. Crane. I can only assume how busy you must be on a daily basis.”

This seems to snap him out of his own thoughts, and he nods stiffly, clearing his throat as he fixes his tie.

“Incredibly busy, yes. So, I won’t keep either of us any longer.”

He gets up from his seat before you do, guiding you to the door but staying behind in his office. Whatever he thought about just a moment ago, it seems to have shifted his mood ever so slightly.

“You’ll find your way back to the elevator by yourself, right?” he asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow, which causes you to nod quickly.

“Yes. Just… the whole thing in reverse.”

He nods in response, not stepping out into the hallway with you.

“Good. Enjoy the rest of your day. And… expect mail from us. Maybe I’ll see you around in the future.”

You barely have time to say goodbye before he closes the door to his office, leaving you standing by yourself. Strange. But it matches his reputation, you suppose.

The way back to the elevator seems much more logical this time, and you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself for remembering how to navigate the hallways now. Even the diabolical rattling as you descend back to the ground floor can’t wipe the smile off your face.

Dr. Crane’s words gave you hope and a surge of confidence, and as you hand your visitor’s badge back to security and leave the asylum, you feel accomplished. Satisfied with how the interview went. Back in your car, you check your rearview mirror once more, making sure you didn’t have anything on your face the entire time before the motor hums to life, and you back out of your parking spot.

The drive back to your apartment would almost be peaceful if it wasn’t for the last bits of excess adrenaline that are still rushing through your veins. Your hands shake a little every time you turn the steering wheel or reach for the dials of the radio, and once you’re finally safe and sound with in your own home, you sink down to your knees and let out a sigh that comes from the deepest depths of your soul. Relief. But not entirely. The next few days would be a test of patience and endurance. But you’re good at playing the waiting game.

Each day, you throw a longing glance at the mailbox in the shabby lobby of your apartment building, only to get disappointed once more. Days turn into a week, and you’ve almost given up hope when, one day, your boyfriend comes home with a stack of mail under his arm. The Arkham logo is peeking through behind a few bills and ads, and you recognize it instantly. This is it.

Like a vulture, you snatch the letter from your boyfriend’s hands, earning a disgruntled noise in response that you couldn’t care less about if you tried. The envelope rips under your impatient hands, and you immediately skim through the letter, searching for the magical words without realizing how thin it is.

Dear Miss…

                      … we hope this letter finds you well…. 

… thank you for applying…

… unfortunately…

      … large number of applicants…

                                                                        … must hereby reject…

… best wishes…

                                                            … better luck next time…

The silence in your living room is deafening, and you can hear your pulse in your ears. The floor feels like it's going to crumble beneath your feet.

Better luck next time.

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

@hanawrites404 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @nocturnest @biblicallyaccuratebee @red-riding-wood

@luvlloyd @ribbonystar @smxkyqvxrtz @bloodandglitter207 @seaamonster

@rosiemarieyn @sagepixieswrld

[ichigopanhpff]

Translation: Toman Tengoku Showdown from the “Tokyo Revengers Exhibition The Final World Line SILVER” Book

In Roppongi’s TR exhibition, they had a section where they had an installation of the final timeline story drawn by Wakui-sensei. This installation had a mix of the printed manga panels and voiceover drama to cover more backstory and content because the man can only draw and cover so much.

Luckily, they included the transcript to the voice overs and are divided up into chapters with titles, which I'll mark with --.

I was lucky enough to my my hands on the book directly from their limited time merch site (https://mikey-mart.online/); unfortunately, they ended all online orders by 2/4.

Out of respect for the exhibition and the hard work put into this entire thing by Wakui-sensei and the staff, I will not be posting any images of the panels from the booklet and will post whatever the official exhibition's Twitter account have posted. I’ll do my best to put scene descriptions where I see fit. I have seen there are some JP vloggers who've done content on the exhibition itself, but don't know how much they were able to film.

They also have an interview with the artist who made the statue installation of the Tenjiku arc scene where Takemichi raised his fist up when Mikey appeared, an interview with the Japanese VAs and Wakui-sensei himself. If there’s enough interest in any of those sections, I’ll do my best to translate them.

Note: Translation isn’t 100% and I may take some liberties in translating certain things for a more colloquial approach. Anything in brackets are my personal notes.

Intro: This is the story about our final time leap and battle.

Kisaki: The Toman Tengoku Battle will take place one week from today. It will take place at the Roppongi 3rd multi-story Parking Lot.

Panel Card: Tokyo Roppongi Manji Tengoku Summit Meeting

[This is the panel they teased in the YT video where Toman, Tenjiku and Black Dragons were sitting in a private room in a Chinese restaurant].

Kisaki: There are three rules: No weapons! No retaliations! The gang that wins will absorb the other gangs! No objections?

Takemichi: None.

Taiju: There’s nothing left to say at this point!

Izana: This’ll be a festival to decide whose fist will rule over the biggest gang in all of Japan; a huge feud between the three of us.

Kisaki: This concludes the meeting!!

(Each respective gang make their exits)

Takemichi: The next time we’ll see each other will be at the battlefield.

Mikey: Get ready to be beaten to a pulp.

Taiju: Ha! Back at you!

Izana: Hmph.

Kakucho: Are you okay with this, Izana?

Izana: With what?

Kakucho: Isn’t Mikey Shinichiro-san’s younger brother? Are you gonna go all out?

Izana: … Haha. Idiot Kakucho. This will be the second time Mikey and I go at it.

Flashback quote: “Even if we’re not related by blood, Shin-nii is my brother!!!”

--Get blood out of a stone--

Young Hanagaki Takemichi CV: Watanabe Akeno Young Sano Manjiro CV: Fairouzi Ai Young Kurokawa Izana CV: Tanezaki Atsumi

Takemichi: This is your hardest mission, Mikey-kun.

Mikey: Got it.

(Takemichi and Mikey are standing in front of the orphanage talking to each other secretly)

Takemichi: I don’t know what kind of scary thing will happen if we tell Izana-kun suddenly. That’s why I thought of this strategy.

(Takemichi starts shaking as he opens his hand with a piece of chocolate)

Mikey: Chocolate?

Takemichi: Yes, chocolate. [Oh you sweet summer child…]

(He begins to explain his strategy with confidence.)

Takemichi: This is how you’ll lure Izana-kun in and with time, you two will slowly start getting along and gradually tell him the truth.

(Takemichi clenches his fist, immersed in a monologue)

Takemichi: This is a perfect plan, if I do say so myself… With this, Izana-kun will also…

Mikey: Yeah.

(Mikey runs in before Takemichi realized)

Takemichi: Mikey-kun…?

(Mikey punches Izana and sends him flying, landing firmly on the ground.) [Good job following the plan.]

Mikey: You’re Kurokawa Izana!

(Takemichi is so surprised, he’s rendered speechless)

Takemichi: Mikey-kun?!

(Izana stands up)

Izana: What the hell’s up with you?!

Mikey: I’m Sano Manjiro!

(Takemichi noticed Izana is surprised by Mikey’s words)

Izana: You said you’re Shin-nii’s… younger brother?

Takemichi: Mikey-kun…

(Mikey throws another punch)

Mikey: You and Shinichiro aren’t connected by blood!

Takemichi: Mikey-kun!

(Izana returns the punch)

Izana: What the hell are you goin’ on ‘bout, y’bastard?!

(The fist fight between the two turn into an argument)

Mikey: There’s no way you two are siblings! Why would you trust my idiot older brother like that!

Izana: What?! The hell’s wrong with you? Are you an idiot for comin’ here?!

Mikey: You accepted Shinichiro’s words without even questioning it ‘cus you’re lonely, right?! That guy did some digging, but now he can’t take back what he’s said and didn’t even mention he had a younger brother!

(The two face each other)

Mikey: I bet you must’ve noticed it too.

Izana: … Shut uuuppppp! What do you know?! My parents threw me away… I’m here while you have a warm family to raise you. You understand nothing! What if we are blood related?!

Mikey: Is it really that important to you?!

(The two start their fist fight again and eventually lay on their backs on the ground)

Mikey and Izana: Haa haa…

Izana: … Shin-nii is my brother! Even if we’re not blood related, he’s still my brother!

Mikey: … Shinichiro said the same thing.

--End--

Taiju: Mitsuya. Is Hakkai gonna go at us seriously?

Mitsuya: … Stop calling on the enemy to check up on your baby brother. You and Yuzuha are a pair of spoiled siblings. Hakkai’ll end up that way too.

Flashback quote: “No matter how violent you get on us, mom will never come back!!”

Taiju: Hmph.

--Let’s drop it--

Young Shiba Taiju CV: Tomozaku Sugita Young Shiba Yuzuha CV: Komatsu Mikako Young Shiba Hakkai CV: Hatanaka Yu Young Sano Manjiro: Fairouzi Ai

(A door forcefully bursts open into a room, where an angry Taiju enters in)

Taiju: Who forgot to turn off the bathroom light?

(Yuzuha and Taiju become frightened)

Hakkai: A… A--

Yuzuha: It’s me!

(Yuzuha protects Hakkai)

Taiju: … Why are you lying?

Yuzuha: Eh?! I’m not lying! It was me!

Taiju: The toilet seat was up. Only men do that.

(Hakkai’s hand clenches tightly at Taiju)

Taiju: Hakkai! Come here!

(Yuzuha interferes to stop Taiju)

Yuzuha: Wait! Don’t beat Hakkai anymore! Let me take his punishments instead! Please!

Hakkai: Sis…

(Hakkai hangs his head down, unable to say anything)

Taiju: You said it. From now on, you’ll take the beating for two people. Is that fine with you, Yuzuha?!

Hakkai: …

(A mysterious voice flashes in Hakkai’s memory!)

Mysterious voice (Mikey): Hakkai!

Hakkai: …!

(Hakkai stands up and faces Taiju)

Hakkai: Stop this already, Taiju!

Yuzuha: Eh…

Taiju: !

(Taiju gets violent with Hakkai)

Taiju: What’re you tryin’ to do here, Hakkai.

Hakkai: Don’t beat up sis anymore! This is ridiculous at how crazy you keep going at us.

Taiju: As I thought, you’re the one who forgot to turn the lights off. How many times have I told you to fix that?

(Hakkai gets hit and falls down. Yuzuha stands and goes beside him)

Hakkai: … I’m sorry for everything up to now, sis.

(Yuzuha is surprised)

Yuzuha: Hakkai.

Hakkai: … My friend told me.

(He recalls Mikey’s voice)

Mikey: It’s okay if you lose. Fight him.

(Taiju turns toward Hakkai)

Hakkai: Cut it out already, Taiju! No matter how violent you get with us, mom’ll never come back to us!

(Taiju is surprised)

Taiju: !… Hakkai.

(Hakkai starts crying)

Hakkai: ‘Cus I’m… I’m lonely…!

Taiju: You…

--End--

Kokonoi: Inupi. How’s Akane-san doing?

Inupi: Yeah. I’m gonna go for it.

Kokonoi: … I see.

Flashback quote: “Leave Inupi-kun to me! Hurry up and go back to save Akane-san!”

Inupi: Well, didn’t you say first loves usually don’t go as planned?

Kokonoi: Shut up.

--Every cloud has a silver lining--

Young Inui Seishu: Koichi Makoto Young Kokonoi Hajime: Igarashi Hiromi Young Inui Akane: Ueda Rena Young Hanagaki Takemichi CV: Watanabe Akeno

(The house is burning with a roaring sound as Kokonoi runs toward it)

Kokonoi: Haa haa… Akane-san!

(Kokonoi desperately addresses someone)

Kokonoi: Fire trucks… Have you seen anyone leave the house?!

Old Lady: I… I’m not sure. I haven’t been able to see anything. I’ll call for the ambulance and fire truck right now!

(Kokonoi turns and suddenly decides to run into the house)

Kokonoi: Akane-san! Akane-san! Haa haa… Akane-san! Akane-san!!

(A mysterious boy suddenly shows up inside the house)

Mysterious boy (Takemichi): Leave Inupi-kun to me! Koko-kun should hurry up and find Akane-san!

Kokonoi: O… Okay.

(Kokonoi continues his search)

Kokonoi: Akane-san! Where are you?! Akane-san! … Akane-san!

(He finally sees her and rushes over. Akane looks like she’s about to pass out)

Akane: … Hajime… kun…?

Kokonoi: I told you I’d protect you, right?

Akane: … Thank you…

(He carries Akane on his back and staggers out)

Old man: Hey! There’s another person who came out!

Old lady: Two people were able to be rescued out of that house. Thank goodness!

Kokonoi: Haa haa…

Seishu: Koko! You were able to save Akane?

Kokonoi: Yeah… But someone else saved you, Inupi.

Seishu: Huh… I was sure it was Koko who saved me. Then… Where are they…?

Kokonoi: … ?

--End--

(Scene is the night of the fight and Toman members are gathering.)

Chifuyu: Baji-san!

Baji: Yo, Chifuyu. It’s finally time, huh.

Chifuyu: Our third big battle! I got Baji-san’s back so you can go all out!

Baji: Oh! I’ll leave it up to you.

Chifuyu: Please leave it up to me.

Kazutora [He a jealous boi]: … Hey, anythin’ goes with you huh? Eh? Eh? When did you join Toman?

Chifuyu: Um… 2004.

Kazutora: Is that right now. And when did I join?

Chifuyu: Um… you’re a founding member, right?

Kazutora: Exactly! This is a photo that only a founding member has!

Chifuyu: Whoa, awesome!

Kazutora: You don’t have this right? Which means I’ve been with Baji much longer, right?

Chifuyu [Poor thing is confused at Tora’s ire]: Ye...ah…?

Kazutora: Baji definitely likes me more, right? You get what I’m gettin’ at, right?

Chifuyu: Yeah.

Takemichi: They’re trying to justify something dumb again.

Kisaki: What are they, kids? I’m surrounded by idiots in Toman.

Takemichi: Idiot. It’s fine as long as you’re the one who’s got it together.

(Takemichi puts his arm around Kisaki’s shoulder and pulls him close)

Kisaki: Stop that. You’re suffocating me.

Takemichi: Rely on me a bit more, partner!

Flashback quote: Do you like Hina? I like her too.

--It takes two to tango--

Young Kisaki Tetta CV: Ozora Naomi Young Tachibana Hinata CV: Waki Azumi Young Hanagaki Takemichi CV: Watanabe Akeno

(Some middle school kids are bullying a cat)

Cat: Nya-!

Hina: Hey, Kisaki-kun. That group is bullying the cat! Hina’s gonna complain about this!

(Hina steadily walks toward them)

Kisaki: Ta-Tachibana?!

(Hina faces the middle school boys [MSB])

Hina: Stop that! What’s so fun about doing something like that?!

MSB A: Huh?

MSB B: I hate kids with a strong sense of justice.

MSB A: Hey! The cat ran away.

MSB B: Then you take the place of the cat.

(Hina resists crying)

MSB: Aww, you’re gonna start cryin’? Did you think we’ll let you go if you started cryin’ like this?

(Kisaki watches from afar)

Kisaki: This is why I said stopping them’s useless.

(Takemichi suddenly appears and takes Kisaki’s arm)

Kisaki: Eh?!

(Takemichi brings Kisaki in front of the middle school kids, stepping onto the gravel)

Takemichi: Stop that!

(Kisaki panics)

Kisaki: Wh-what?

Takemichi: We’re the super hero partners! How dare you middle school kids pick on a young girl. That’s unforgivable!

MSB: Huh? What’s up with you guys?

(Kisaki continues to panic as Takemichi neither cries nor trembles)

Kisaki: W-Why are you including me?!

Takemichi: Shaddap! Let’s go Kisaki! You’re a man too, right?!

Kisaki: Wh-What…

(Takemichi dashes)

Takemichi: Ooooohhhh!

(Hina cries)

Takemichi: I didn’t think too much on my actions before and after.

Hina: (crying noises) Hic… I’m sorry…

(Takemichi’s wounds throb from pain)

Takemichi: Ow ow ow…

Hina: Ah, Hina will go buy some bandages!

(Hina’s running footsteps fade out, leaving Takemichi and Kisaki alone together)

Takemichi: … Do you like Hina?

Kisaki: Eh-Um, uh, I--

Takemichi: (smiling wide) I like her too.

--End--

The night before the Toman Tengoku Showdown at Musashi Shrine…

Toman’s finally gathered, with Mikey facing everyone

Mikey: Tomorrow will finally decide who will be Japan’s top gang! Everyone, are you ready?!

Toman: Yeah!!!

Mikey: Is there anyone scared of tomorrow’s battle?! No one right?! Let’s take the top spot!

(Toman chants)

With the call of Mikey’s voice, Toman’s morale is at its peak. The climax of an alternative future where they continued their revenge.

Mikey: This’ll finally put an end to our revenge.

Takemichi: The final battle.

It’s time to head to the battlefield. Roppongi 3rd multi-story parking lot!

Mikey: Let’s go!

Takemichi: Okay!

Tensions rising! Tokyo Manji Gang, Tenjiku and Black Dragons Gather!!

Tokyo Manji Gang, Tenjiku, Black Dragons A Fight that Lasted One Night to Decide Japan’s Strongest Gang

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - prologue

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY

»»»

age 22 // medical intern

25th March

Munich, Germany

»»»

It was way past midnight when Cassandra finally managed catching a break. Her one obligatory night shift had only started a little over three hours ago, but attending physicians from the previous shifts had passed their patients to the night shift, half of the senior doctors were at a national conference and her supervisor was running around and taking care of everything - which meant Cassandra, as one of her interns, was also running around and taking care of everything she could.

After documenting and assisting at a catheterization and an intubation done by one of the attending seniors, she finally found her first free five minutes. 

Stepping out into the fresh night air, she leaned her arms on the railing of the ER entrance. Tying her coppery curls into a ponytail before fiddling out a protein bar from the pocket of her blue scrubs. Having to suppress a moan when taking a bite from it. Not even minding that she once again hit her elbow on the railing, nothing new for her anyway.

The night at the hospital was rather tranquil, at least compared to the workload during daytime, and she had time to go back to her paper work.

So much paper work..

It was her own fault, though, volunteering to assist her supervisor in a presentation about pulmonalis purpura but she needed these bonus points. Extra tasks like these always earned them bonus points, credits and also looked great on a CV after graduation.

With a sigh, she unwrapped the last piece of the protein bar when muffled voices disrupted the peaceful silence, coming from the direction of the parking lot.

Her eyes tried to find the source when spotting two young men with a third one between them, his arms draped around their shoulders as they carried him towards the entrance. And her eyes shot open when realising the one in the middle was beinf practically dragged, seemingly unconscious.

Stuffing the rest of the bar into her mouth and shoving the wrapper into her pocket, her instinct kicked in, despite being still in training, and she rushed towards them. Immediatelly spotting the dark liquid on the side of the guy's face from up-close.

"What happened?" she asked after swallowing the rest of her midnight snack.

The other young men struggled to answer and she decided to press one more time.

"There was a.. minor explosion. Something hit his head," one of them finally answered and she nodded. A possible concussion, she concluded. "Ok, we'll take care. I'll call the attending phy-"

"No!" the other, rounder-faced guy exclaimed with evident panic in his voice, taking her aback. The second guy quickly taking over with an uneasy smile. 

"Look, Doc, we'd prefer if that stayed between us. You see.." He chuckled lightly, his lips curving into a smile that could convince anyone to anything. And Cassandra's guard went down for a second. "..people are looking for us. Not that nice people." His eyes giving her a look of appeal. "So we'd appreciate it if you took care of our friend in.. let's say, secret."

She folded her arms then in an attempt to look confident, when really all she felt was nervous. If she understood the signs correctly, these guys knew the hospital stuff had to inform police about a potential explosion-injury and they clearly didn't want that. Meaning something was off about them.

They might be looking quite young, around her age or a bit older with way too friendly looking faces to be mobsters, but you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

She was afraid of them trying to intimidate her in some way. The pure possibility making her heart anxiously beating faster.

Much to her surprise, however, their expressions softened instead and genuine concern was written all over their flustered faces.

"Please, don't inform the cops about our friend."

He wasn't demanding it, he was asking or rather pleading for it. And frankly, Cassandra hadn't expected that.

Clenching her jaw, she swallowed.

It wasn't a warning her gut sent her. No, it wasn't trying warning her of potential danger. And yet, she could tell they still were trouble. That she was sure of.

However, their request went beyond her responsibility. She was a mere intern. She knew she should persist onto calling one of the attending doctors. Or even an assistant one. Or at least a nurse. Literally anyone with an actual medical license. 

Her eyes fell onto the unconscious one of the three then. And the fresh blood gracing his temple and cheek under the fringe that was covering his closed eyes. He definitely couldn't wait any longer for medical attention. Who knew how long he d been unconscious. The longer they waited, the severer the potential damage.

"If I don't accept you'll try at another hospital, right?"

"Most likely," his friend replied with a bashful, almost apologetic smile.

Exhaling deeply, she released her arms and let them fall onto her sides. "Alright, but if it's something I can't handle you will let me call for additional medical stuff."

"We-"

"That's non-negotiable. Otherwise good luck trying finding another idiot like me who's willing to help you. And while driving around town to look for one, your friend might bleed out or worse."

She was exaggarrating of course, even with no license yet, she could tell it was probably just a mere concussion and laceration with no actual threat of bleeding out. Although the unconsciousness was worrisome. So she bluffed in hopes they'd agree.

And seeing them exchanging an uncertain look, it looked like it worked.

The one with the charming smile glanced at their friend who they were propping up, feeling his weight growing heavier by the minute.

"Tough negotiation but okay."

Content and a little proud of herself, she nodded and started walking towards the emergency room entrance. Waving them over her shoulder. "Let me check if the coast's clear."

With an uneasy feeling, she went inside. Seeing no one but a man with an icepack on his shoulder in the waiting area. He was facing the wall, back turned towards the entrance. Meanwhile, the nurse on duty was currently nowhere in sight, missing from her position behind the glass of the counter. Having probably gone to the restroom or to get something.

Cassandra huffed internally. Not understanding why there weren't two people on duty in case someone with a serious emergency came in and wouldn't find anyone. But right now it was practical in her case, so she didn't complain about the buget cutbacks.

Giving the waiting guys a sign, they quickly followed her in. Passing by the man who didn't really pay attention anyway, preoccupied by his own injury, and hushed past the counter and through the double door. 

She led them to one of the currently empty exam rooms, watching them carrying the unconscious man to the examination table. And she pulled out her small flashlight, opening his eyelids to check the pupil's reaction. 

Normal, thankfully.

No indication for increased cranial pressure. So far medical stuff wasn't needed. Or well, they would be but not necessary yet, since these guys wanted to go undocumented.

She untangled her stethoscope then, making sure his cardiac cycle was normal as well. 

The patient was stable, but still unconscious. 

She couldn't, however, perform a CT scan, MRI or any other medical test - neither had she learned how nor was she qualified yet. So she decided to proceed with trying to make him gain consciousness. And if he didn't react, then she'd persist in calling an actual physician.

Remembering her training so far, next in line was inducing different stimuli like tactile. So she began applying light pressure to his face like the eyebrow bone or the jaw joint to cause adequate discomfort. Observing his features turning into a grimace of annoyance, indicating he felt the pressure. Good. She firmly pressed his knuckles up and down the sternum then, his fingers contracting.

"What's his name?" Her sudden question pulling the other two out of their absentmindness while watching her perform.

"Huh?"

"His name. Start speaking to him for verbal stimulus to help him gain conscience."

Seemingly hesistant first, the silent one with the rounder face and smaller eyes spoke up then. "Taehyung. It's Taehyung."

"Taehyung," she repeated firmly, tapping Taehyung's cheek just the right amount of harsh to ensure he felt it for a noxious stimulus, "Can you hear me?"

His head moved away from her touch, the expression on his face shifting to a frown when a whine of pain left his lips. "Hey, come on, wake up. Your friends here are worried!" 

She was about to give his cheek another light slap, when she got stopped mid-air by his hand gripping her wrist firmly.

His eyes shot open then. And a pair of mesmerizing dark irises suddenly stared back at hers, causing Cassandra to freeze.

She knew it was medically impossible to knock someone's breath out of their lungs. And yet, in this moment she wondered if it was possible to develop at least a sudden dyspnea - a shortness of breath - without any prior cause or trauma at all, just by locking gazes with someone.

Their eyes were of similar colour, it was the first thing he noted. The very first thought that crossed his mind. The same deep brown shade as his own, and yet so very different. He didn't think ever seeing more beautiful warm brown eyes than hers before. As though he was looking at her through the sight of a sniper rifle, zoomed in all the way, the world pausing for that tiny span of time between the pressing and release of the trigger.

They held each other's gaze for a second longer, until the sense of his throbbing head caught him out and he had to screw his eyes back shut from the pain. Letting go of her wrist.

At this, Cassandra blinked and took a step back, her blank mind slowly getting flooded with thoughts again. 

His friend approached then, giving Taehyung a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "Hey man, you hear us?"

With a scrunching face, a light groan escaped his lips. "Yoongi?"

"And Jimin!" the other one chirped in, shoving Yoongi away in excitement, "You're awake!"

Another groan followed.

The young men started talking energetically, relieved and happy seeing their friend having gained his consciousness again, not noticing Cassandra standing there. For some reason unable averting her eyes from Taehyung.

She had been so focused on making him gain consciousness again without screwing up, she hadn't paid attention to anything else. But ever since seeing his wide almond eyes, something had shifted. And she felt herself breathing irregularly.

Blinking her eyes repeatedly, she forced herself to eventually look away and re-focus on his treatment. 

Patient was conscious again, that was good. This meant she could pay attention to the source of the blood now. 

"Would you step back and let me check his wound?" she quietly asked then. Jimin and Yoongi immediately obeying and giving her space. Taehyung blinked an eye open through the throbbing when hearing her voice.

"How do you feel? Are you fully awake now?" she carefully asked him then, avoiding his eyes the best she could while inspecting the cut at his hairline.

"Yeah.. but I wished I wasn't. My head is.. aching pretty badly."

"That's normal." She couldn't legally give him anything but Ibuprofen 400, perhaps there was some in one of the cabinets. She'd check later. Right now some other things were more important. "Do you remember anything? I mean, do you know your name, age and what happened?"

"You're asking if I got amnesia? I don't," he said with a hollow laugh. Eyes closing shut again.

She hummed, grabbing a pair of disposible gloves from the counter. "Where am I though?"

"The hospital," Jimin explained with a sigh of disapproval. "You didn't leave us much of a choice, man. You were unconscious and had blood on your face. Like.. damn. For a second I was actually scared."

Taehyung snickered tiredly at his friend's whining, attempting to prop himself up when Yoongi pushed him back down. "Just lay down for a moment, you were out of it for quite some time."

Pushing his hand away when his face contorted due to another wave of pain. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"You don't look like that though."

"Listen to your friend." Cassandra's stern voice making him perk up. "And besides, you probably need some stitches first."

"And you are..?"

"Cassandra," she said unfazed while holding up a sterilized needle. Motioning to the other two who had huddled over him in the short moment she prepared her stitching utensils, "Now, if you could move, please."

"No offence but.. how old are you?" Yoongi asked then with sharp eyes narrowing at her. He had noticed her young-looking face before as well, but he hadn't cared much back then considering Taehyung's condition. Now, however, she was holding a needle in her hands, about to patch up his younger friend.

The crease between her brows deepened. "Turning twenty-three soon, why?"

"Are you even a doctor?"

She straightened herself as she took a few steps closer to the actual patient among the three, the one on the bed with the laceration.

"Oh, now you suddenly care?" Her lips tucked into a sarcastic smirk aimed at him, seeing him fold his lips. "I am an intern - if you must know."

"So technically n-"

"God, Yoongi, who cares?" the injured one scowled, followed by a groan, "I'm dying here! Just let her do her thing already!"

"Aw, don't be so dramatic, you won't die," Jimin rolled his eyes. Launching for a pat on the shoulder before remembering Taehyung was in pain. 

His attention turned to Cassandra then. It wasn't the first time she had to encounter overly noisy and worried relatives. With her signature smile that was more a habit of politeness, but which she genuinely felt like doing when seeing Jimin's friendly face, she nodded. Trying to reassure them that yes, he wouldn't die.

"I'll take care of it," she said then. The two standing guys exchanged a glance, looking down at their friend who was screwing shut his eyes.

"You sure you can handle that?" Yoongi asked, this time his voice holding genuine concern as he peeked down at Taehyung.

"Yeah, don't worry. My orange was the best stitched one, so I'm pretty confident," she waved them off.

Her proud announcement only earning her puzzled looks from them though. "Orange?"

She nodded with a wide grin. "Yeah, one of the senior surgeons showed us how to do stitches and we practiced on oranges. And mine was the best."

Yoongi couldn't help but look at her in disbelief. "Are you for rea-" 

Not letting him complete his sentence, Jimin began pushing him aside. "We're gonna let you do your job now, don't worry." Cassandra didn't miss Yoongi suppressing a wince on his face, but she brushed it off in that moment. Letting out a breath.

"Don't mind them, they're noisy but mean no harm."

She turned around, facing her actual patient who was flashing her a weak smile before his face turned into a grimace once again. And she gave him an apologetic smile.

"Grit your teeth, okay? It'll sting."

He only inhaled deeply and nodded. Allowing her to clean the wound and apply an antisepticum, making him flinch as expected, before she got to work on the actual stitches. As she had done the first one, she cleared her throat. Peeking at him nervously. After all, this was the closest she'd ever been to him. And she also pitied him. Doing this without a local anaestheticum was most likely very uncomfortable.

"So.." she began and felt his smile on her.

"It's Taehyung-" He paused, she assumed because of the wound. Not noticing him nervously folding his lips.

"Yeah, I know," she smiled absentmindedly, focusing on stitching which was a whole lot more nerve-wrecking when two other pair of eyes were staring at her from above. Definitely didn't have that issue when it was only an orange. She huffed a laugh then, peeking at the two who quickly retreated to the far back. "Shouldn't you guys actually use pseudonyms in front of a stranger like me?"

"Oh, should we?" Taehyung weakly grinned.

She shrugged with a shippish smirk. "You clearly are on the run, considering your friends wouldn't let me inform anyone about you. Who knows, I might still get the cops.."

"Nah. You won't." He said it so matter-of-factly that it astonished her quite a lot, the faith he had in a stranger like her.

"Why not?"

Jimin appeared next to her all of a sudden and stooped down to tilt his head at her with his award-winning smile. "'Cause we trust you, so you wouldn't do it. Right?"

"Trusting a stranger, huh," she giggled more to herself than anything, focusing back on the stitches. "Isn't that quite naive?"

Unexpectedly, he laughed out at this, bemused instead of feeling offended.

"You must know," Yoongi spoke up then with a crooked grin, motioning his chin to Jimin, "He's pretty good in analysing and looking through people. So if he deems you trustworthy, you most likely are."

"He's right," Taehyung mumbled. Unable to add much more due to the additional stinging he felt from the needle, as if his headache wasn't enough.

In all honesty, if he had it his way, he'd have preferred lying to her.

Not that he wouldn't feel bad. She seemed nice after all, but she had a point. It was risky revealing real names. Not only for them but also for her.

And it was already bad enough Jimin and Yoongi had to bring him to the ER because he'd got injured like an amateur. Risking them getting caught because of his own mistake.

And her, an innocent bystander, knowing would probably cause more trouble. However, he also understood why they had to let her in to some degree. Right now, they depended on her help after all.

Cassandra only gave him a brief glance and hummed before quietly continuing the stitches.

She tried being trustworthy, but did she also look so trustworthy for strangers to include her in their secrets? Did she perhaps seem too trustworthy?

"You're an intern. So.. a student, huh?" he began then in an attempt to distract her mind in case it was still lingering over the cause of his injury.

"Yup, doing one of my internships right now," she explained, not minding the little exchange.

Frankly, she hadn't chosen that path for the prestige or money. She was one of the few ones in her year who genuinely did it for helping people. And therefore, she didn't mind interacting and talking with patients. Especially not cute ones with big brown eyes and an endearing smile. Those were pretty rare, at least in her two months there. And someone with a potentially questionable lifestyle - considering he got involved in explosions and had 'not nice people' being after him on top of it? No, that definitely didn't happen every day.

The stitches were done and she cut the thread before applying an adhesive plaster on the wound. She got up then, about to remove the gloves when she caught a better view of the other two. Only now taking an actual closer look on them with her not being on alert anymore because of Taehyung. In the hospital lights and without any distractions, she saw they didn't look too good either. Clothes torn on the edges, abrasions and splashes of blood gracing their skin.

"Are you guys injured as well?"

They shook their heads.

"Nah, just some scratches," Jimin ensured her, while Yoongi remained quiet in his seat on the chair at the corner of the room. She eyed him suspiciously as she noticed he had been absentmindedly rubbing his right shoulder until he caught her narrowed eyes on him. Making him squint his eyes in irritation.

"Is something on my face?" he tried joking, his laugh quickly dropping when she stepped in front of him. Her face softened then and she shook her head.

"No, no.. just, would you be so nice and get me that box of gauze from the shelf up there? I'm too short to reach these shelves."

He followed the direction her finger pointed at and nodded, not questioning why she wouldn't ask Jimin who was already standing. Getting up instead to walk to said shelf. As his right arm stretched for the gauze, however, he abruptly stopped. Jaw clenching. He lowered the arm again slowly, only to face her with a forced smile.

"That one, yeah?"

She nodded. Her lips tucked into an innocent smile as she anticipated his next move. And he reached out again, but with his other arm this time instead.

Caught you.

"Here ya go- ouchh!" The box almost slipped from his grip as his muscles jerked away from her finger pressing onto his shoulder. Turning around, he came across her knowing look.

"You're also injured, aren't you?"

"Wh-"

Taehyung and Jimin's eyes grew wide when observing the scene. Understanding now how her request was on purpose. And yet, they remained confused on how she had actually noticed in such a short time.

"What? You're also injured?" Jimin questioned then with worried eyes, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Am no- Ouch! Can you stop doing that?" Yoongi whined and stared bewildered at Cassandra as she had pressed it again.

"Just let her take a look already."

He only let out a quiet grump at Taehyung's suggestion. A look of defeat crossing his features then as he saw Cassandra's victorious smile. "Fine."

Unbuttoning his shirt, he pushed off the fabric to reveal the shoulder. The shirt was black so no one had noticed the dried blood from the lengthy cut. 

"The fck."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He gritted his teeth, looking away in shame. "It's nothing."

"That's not nothing," Cassandra huffed at his light description of an already inflamed puncture, shaking her head in disapproval as she prepared a new thread. Pushing him into taking a seat again. "I doubt that one was also caused by an explosion," she said as she began cleaning the wound and Yoongi avoided their concerned eyes.

"No, that one isn't from tonight. It's.. whatever. I was distracted for a second. That's all." 

Truth was he'd got distracted over a backfire two days ago. He hadn't fully paid attention to his surroundings, something that never happened, and one of those jerks from a local gang had taken advantage of it. Mainly Yoongi's ego and pride felt bruised, if anything.

Finishing those stitches up as well, she pressed a tube of antibiotic gel into his chest, which he hesitantly accepted with a raised brow. And she finally removed the gloves.

"Next time you get stabbed you'll get immediate treatment, got it?" Her tone was stern and lecturing, remininiscent of a mother's and Yoongi had to stifle a chuckle. Biting back any sarcasm threatening to leave his lips and smiled at the shorter woman. "Sure, 'Doc'."

She nodded contently. Whether he genuinely meant it or not, she didn't care. Facing the other two then who had watched in amusement as their older friend got scolded.

After rummaging through the drawers, she managed finding a pack of nonprescriptive painkillers, which she handed to Taehyung as well. Receiving a bashful 'thank you' from them all.

"And no more explosions, alright?" Her voice softer now as she smirked. "Heard they're dangerous."

The three men exchanged a look then. And they grinned. "Explosion? Did we say that?"

Cassandra frowned, irritated by their grins. "Uh, yeah, you.."

"Are you sure we did?"

A look of appeal in their eyes as they tried emphasising Taehyung's question.

And her brows rose, beginning to understand. She pursed her lips, huffing out a laugh eventually.

Her pager went off then, her supervisor probably wondering where she had wandered off. Sighing, she slipped it back in.

"Whatever. You can stay here for a couple of hours to ensure your friend is completely fine, if you want. But just so you know, if any stuff members catch you here, you don't know me. Alright?"

"Never seen your pretty face before, got it," Jimin winked and she felt her cheeks heating at his unexpected compliment. She coughed then, straightening herself. "G-good."

Taehyung only groaned annoyed, before chunking down two pills from the pack. "Stop flirting with every woman and let her go already."

"Alright, alright, releasing you from your duty now," he chuckled, flashing her a smile, "Thank you again."

She reciprocated Jimin's smile and with that, she left the room after ensuring the corridors were empty and no one saw her.

As she made her way to the ground floor, she already laid out a perfect explanation in case someone did catch these guys and found out she, an intern, helped them without notifying any medical stuff or official documentation.

She'd simply say they threatened her. Yes, the perfect explanation why she had done it. There wasn't any other option left for her after all without facing severe consequences for her studies and future.

It wasn't too far from reality anyway. Sure, they hadn't actually threatened her. But they could've, in case they were petty-criminals or worse.

Shaking her head, she laughed at her paranoid self. Realising it wasn't like she'd done something ethically or morally bad by treating them. Sure, she hadn't graduated yet but as an aspiring doctor she also honoured the principles of medical confidentiality and non-maleficence. 

With a deep breath, she calmed her rising anxiety before entering the staff room where her supervisor had called her to. Reminding herself that even if everything came crushing down, she was just an intern with no legal responsibilities.

Thankfully the reason her supervisor had called was to assign Cassandra to another task. To keep an eye on an operated patient who needed to be checked every few hours and notify her if needed.

So the young medical student made her way back to the elevator across the entrance area to head to the patient's floor, looking forward to the rest of her night being uneventful. Her eyes catching three men standing at the reception then.

Their attire sparkling her interest more than anything as it was the opposite of how the three lads downstairs at the ER looked like. Long coats over what seemed to be suits, neatly combed back hair and their tone serious as they spoke in a hushed voice to the receptionist.

Not paying any more attention, she headed to the vending machine, deciding to get a chocolate bar first for some extra energy when the men left through the double doors behind the reception. Her eyes narrowed while following their hasty steps. Perhaps she was just high off the adrenaline of doing something basically illigal, but without hesitation and a lot of curiosity she walked up to the receptionist.

"Who were they? They look important."

The receptionist, a woman in her early thirties, glanced around as if to make sure no one would eavesdrop before she bent over with a bored expression.

"Cops or something. I didn't quite understand, to be honest."

Cassandra's heartbeat dropped at this. "C-cops?"

"I don't know, yes and no? They said something about interpol."

Fck. She tried her best not to let the woman notice her panic. "What would they want here?"

The woman leaned back into her chair. "They're looking for some criminal, I guess. Were asking if any young korean men with brown hair and eyes got possibly committed here tonight."

"I see.. And what did you tell them?"

"There wasn't anyone in the system committed tonight who fits the age or description," she sheepishly laughed out. "And I didn't recognise the name or photo they showed me, either. So they said they'd check themselves."

Check themselves? Did they plan to go to every station and look into every room?

"That's.. interesting." Cassandra faked a laugh and then pretended going back to the vending machine only to hurriedly enter through the door beside it to the staircase.

That wasn't good, not good at all. Interpol? She thought some goons or maybe the cops would be after them tops. But interpol? That was international. That was way bigger than local police.

She sprinted down the stairs to the lower level where ER was located as fast as she'd ever sprinted in her life, reaching the bottom completely panting but still pushing through and making her way through the station. Tripping over her own fit and even bumping her shoulder at a corner out of hurry. She sneaked her way past the nurse station then, the nurse having returned by now but luckily preoccupied with organising some files.

So far no sight of the interpol agents. She genuinely hoped the guys had already left the room and were long gone. But when she opened the door was greeted by three familiar and startled pairs of eyes.

With a swift moved she shut the door behind her, pressing her body against it with heavy breaths.

"Some interpol agents were asking about recently hospitalised young korean men with brown hair and eyes. You don't think that sounds familiar, do you?"

Taehyung's thick brows rose and he swallowed hard. An apologetical grin playing on his lips then. "Well, you see.. funny story.." His hand went to scratch the back of his neck nervously. Unable to come up with a decent explanation to why an interpol agent was in search for someone looking like him. The only logical sounding thing his mind could come up with was that it was a simple coincidence, but something told him she was way too smart to fall for such an obvious lie.

Much to his relief Jimin took over instead. "Was one of them tall with broad shoulders and a trenchcoat?"

"Well, y-yeah. I guess? Don't they all look like this?"

"Hm, was he also handsome?"

She blinked, taken aback by their seemingly apathy of the situation. Shouldn't they be worried? Appalled even? "I don't know, I didn't see any faces. You know him?"

"Well," Jimin mused, "If he's tall, handsome with broad shoulder and a coat, it's pops."

"'Pops'?!" Confusion was quickly replaced with bewilderment on her face.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, sighing. "Agent Kim Seokjin, one of the interpol agents assigned to us. We.." His voice trailed off, as he was fidgeting around his words. "We.."

They all grew quiet, uncertain glances being exchanged between them and Cassandra slowly became fed up with their secrecy. Her head spinning by now.

With quick steps she stood in front of Taehyung who was avoiding her inquiring glare. She propped her hands on either side of him on the bed as she leaned in with a look so eery and penetrating that evoked a gulp from him.

"We're thieves," Yoongi deadpanned then from behind her, so casually as if he had just announced they were common vendors. "We work internationally, that's why interpol is after us."

Jimin only sighed in defeat and nodded, followed by a light chuckle. "Cat's out of the bag now I guess."

Her brows arched at this.

Thieves. Actual thieves?  

They didn't look like it. They might be lying, but then again, how would she know what thieves looked like. 

Without letting her guard down, she instead narrowed her eyes at Taehyung in front of her who was giving her an insecure grin.

"If you don't want me to go up there and tell the interpol guys about you, you better tell me the whole story."

Yoongi clicked his tongue. "Why does it matter?" he wondered out loud, folding his arms.

"So I can determine what kind of thieves you are."

They were stunned by her confident attitude and he eventually nodded with a sense of respect towards her. "Alright, just tell her then," he said, motioning to Taehyung who was still quite perplexed by her fierce eyes staring daggers at his. "She'll read it tomorrow in the papers anyway."

"And don't even think about lying," Cassandra whispered, her face mere centimetres away from Taehyung's. "I got a sixth sense for that."

She didn't and Taehyung could tell her bluff, but he still decided to be honest with her. He didn't know why, but when she glared at him with those big angry eyes, trying to look intimidating but failing miserably and instead looking adorable as hell, he melted just a little bit and wanted to tell her anything she wanted.

"Ok, fine," he groaned in pretend-annoyance, looking away, "We're thieves, you know this much. We broke into the archive of an auction house to get an illegally-obtained figurine. But a gang that was also after it, showed up and one of these idiots triggered the alarm system. We escaped, but - again, those guys were brainless - they shot at us, we shot back. And one of their bullets hit the building's gas line then."

She inhaled sharply. "That caused the explosion.."

He gave her a nod, sighing. "And something hit my head.. and that's how we ended up here. Satisfied?"

She ponded over his words. Glancing at him contemplating. "This figurine was.. illegally-obtained? By the auctioneers?"

"Yeah. They bought it off from someone who stole it from its actual owner. And we're helping her to get it back as it also has a high emotional value to her, besides the obvious monetary one."

She hummed. Again, this guy could be lying his head off for all she knew and yet, something inside her told her he was sincere by the way his eyes were looking straight at hers instead of avoiding them.

A figurine from an auction house. That.. wasn't too bad. Was it? It could be worse. They could've been stealing old people's money.

She was probably a naive idiot, but she believed him. At least she wanted to. And yet, she didn't want to get fooled that easily in case it was a lie after all, which most likely was the case.

"You might lie," she pressed as to ensure her gut feeling. But his expression remained persistent. Holding her glance with certainty. 

"I might. But I'm not."

"He told you the truth," Jimin smiled then, gently placing his hand on her shoulder and making her back away from his friend. "If you don't believe us, fair enough. Me and Yoongi can still escape with ease. But Taehyungie here wouldn't be able to due to his dizziness and headache. So I'll still beg you not to inform pops."

She was an idiot, most clearly because to her they sounded sincere and it even warmed her heart a little how much they cared for their friend. Indeed, they could easily escape. They didn't even have to bring Taehyung there in the first place, it was a potential risk and yet they'd done it.

That told her enough about them for now.

She might regret it later on. Maybe the next day. Maybe in a week. A year. Who knew what consequences her complicity tonight might have.

But then again.. she was just a medical student doing one of her many internships there. She didn't have any responsibilities.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself off the bed and looked at the anticipating guys.

"Alright, follow me," she plainly said then, observing their postures relaxing.

"You won't snitch on us?" Yoongi asked, brow arching in doubt. Caution evident in his voice.

She rolled her eyes with a little giggle. "I'll probably regret it, but no. I'll try my best to keep your little secret between us. But perhaps you wanna change these clothes.." She wagged her index finger at their partially torn, burnt and bloody attire. "If anyone else sees you, I can't promise they won't."

"And what would you suggest, Doc?" Taehyung asked then with a curious smirk, to which Cassandra could only shrug cheekily.

"I may have a plan."

»»»

next chapter: 0.1 here

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[octuscle]

Hey Chronivac, on my way home today I drove past a fancy hotel and saw a super hot and hunky valet outside it. Is there a way that I could use this to become his equally hunky boyfriend or husband?

You are almost 70 years old… You have three failed marriages behind you, each of which has cost you a fortune. And now you come up with the idea of starting something with a valet? Don't take offense, but I do find it a bit strange. But anyway, I've seen worse.

You steer your Bentley convertible into the hotel driveway. Carlos is already walking towards you, eager to be of service. "Welcome, it's nice to have you back with us. May I ask you for the keys to this wonderful car?" You've never been here before… But what a sexy Spanish accent! You give him the key and a 10-dollar bill. And you have to swallow. You have a very dry throat.

With some difficulty and the help of your walking stick, you enter the lobby. You go to the concierge and ask to speak to the personnel manager. When asked who he might report, you reply "James Miller, it's about something private". While you wait in the lobby for an answer, you look in the mirror. Yes, there are already a few gray strands and a few wrinkles around your eyes. But for someone in their mid-50s, you don't look bad at all. Lots of exercise and a healthy diet, you think contentedly. The concierge asks you to take the elevator to the fourth floor.

You're already a little nervous. You haven't had a job interview for a long time. And at your early 40s, you're probably a bit too old to be a parking attendant. You clutch your application folder with white knuckles. But the secretary in the HR department smiles kindly at you, asks you to take a seat and offers you a drink of water. Out of sheer nervousness, you reply with "Gracias". She laughs and says that the conversation will be conducted in English. You laugh back. With your gleaming white teeth, you can iron out any embarrassment.

The door to the meeting room opens. The last applicant is a spotty beanpole. At least visually you have the best chance. The secretary invites you in. The personnel manager smiles at you, you shake his hand and smile back. "Well, Mr. Molinero, the first lesson today is that you don't shake my hand, I shake yours. You never shake hands with a guest unless they do it first. Do we understand each other? You swallow. Carlos wasn't exaggerating. This is a strict place. But it's also the best hotel in town. "Mr. Molinero, is Carlos your brother? You have the same surname." You reply that you are often mistaken for brothers. But you are actually married. "Delightful!" replies the personnel manager. And then you go through your CV.

The interview felt like it took three hours. In fact, it was just 20 minutes. The HR manager stands up and shakes your hand. He laughs as you shake his hand. "Good strong handshake. I like that. Welcome to the team. Rebecca will sort out all the formalities with you, Diego. And for the rest, I'll just rely on Carlos to introduce them well.

You never get a second chance to make a first impression. And Carlos and you are often the first to give an impression of "your" hotel. You are professionals. You know your way around cars, are excellent drivers and know the local area like the back of your hand. Yes, the pay is really bad, but the tips are royal. Carlos actually once inherited the Bentley convertible of a guest he'd never seen before or since. Of course you didn't keep it. But you were able to use the proceeds from the sale to buy a beach house in your Mexican homeland.

And if things aren't going well enough, you can always work extra shifts as a waiter by the pool. Your suntan lotion massages are famous!

[starluvsx]

★𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word count:540

Proofread:yesss

WARNINGS:tooth rotting,feet kicking flufff

A/N:i wanna do like a small pt2 to this of just chris being a little cutie pie like in the video but idrk yet.

𖦹 𖦹

"still don't know what you want?" my best friend Chris asked, coming up behind me.he most likely wondered this because of the indecisive state i was in, attempting to make the choice between dr pepper and orange fanta.

"I don't know what to get, I want them both '' I replied,still staring at the drinks. "ughhh why am I like this? '' I said, turning around with a stressed out pout.

"I don't know man but you gotta be quick cause Matt and Nick are already in the car" he said, blue eyes staring back at me.I hated that I was holding everyone up but I seriously just couldn't decide.

"what do you think i should get" i said finally just wanting to get out of the CVS.

"I think you should just get both," he said back with the smallest smirk.

"Well I can't afford to get both and my candy" I quickly replied matter of factly.

chris gave me a 'are you serious' look and answered my problem with "its fine ill pay for you".i will admit i do have like a pretty big crush on chris.so seeing him just immediately offer to pay for me made my cheeks heat up.to my demise chris noticed this reaction i had and sarcastically said "what you never had someone pay for you or something?"

"Well yea I mean not really, it's just never something that comes up when I'm with friends...''I said nervously, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of me.

"well remind me next time we go to dinner"he replied as he began walking to the register at the tilt of his head.i followed after him with a large smile painted on my face.my heart began beating faster as i caught up to him until i was finally next to him.we had walked next to each other countless times but this time was different.this time i felt things i hadn't felt before.

Once we made it to the register I placed the drinks and snacks on the counter, Chris doing the same a second later.as the scrawny teenage boy began scanning the assortment of foods I saw Chris pull out his wallet out of the corner of my eye.his silver nails pulling out his card.

After we paid we grabbed the bags and left.the parking lot was surprisingly busy for it being so late at night.cars zooming past us as we waited on the sidewalk. While we waited for someone to let us cross Chris grabbed my hand on instinct and walked across the street with me at a regular pace.

My head had been down but I shot it up once I heard Nick scream "hurry up lovebirds, we've been waiting forever" from the car with his phone pointed at us.my face was heating up again at the name he had given us.

"oh fuck off"chris said back as we got closer to the car.i expected for him to have an upset look on his face but to my shock he was smiling that same stupid smile that made me fall in love with him.the one that makes me smile 10x more.

[scarlett-v-the-fox]

WarioWare Move It! Japanese profile entires part 1

As of today, there are only a few profiles of the characters. These are Wario, Jimmy T, Mona, Ashley, Red, Dr. Crygor, Mike, and Penny. I am sharing what they say to you in English.

Disclaimer: My Japanese isn’t perfect, and I had to look up some of words used. But I’m confident 95% of this is correct!

President of the very great Wario Company

WARIO

CV: Hironori Kondo

(Translator’s notes: Wario uses the first person pronoun “ore” and uses the suffix “sama” after it.)

[Image of Wario in front a pile of gold] Today is also a great day! I'm cool, intelligent, and handsome!

WAHAHAHA! You had a good idea that you were interested in me! Take a close look at me from my head to my butt!

This is my profile!!

Favorite letter of the alphabet:

W

Most hated letter of the alphabet:

M

Charm point:

You’ll know it when you see it! Everything!

What made me happy recently:

I went to scrub myself today, and what a surprise! I lost 20 kilograms! That’s amazing!

What surprised me recently:

There was a type of canned food that I thought was delicious and became addicted to, but when I looked closer, it turned out to be for dogs! I got angry!

Things I am not good at:

Nothing! I am perfect!

Recommended movies:

There’s “The Wario Movie” starring me! ...Hmm? There’s no such movie? Hey Nintendo! Make it quickly!

Favorite proverb:

Be on the toilet bowl for three months.

Future aspirations:

Hey! That's enough! That's it for my profile!

~

Energetic high school girl

MONA

CV: Ruriko Aoki

(Translator’s notes: Mona uses the first person pronoun “atashi.” She also uses the “ojisama” suffix for Wario and Dr. Crygor.)

[Image of Mona in a city with her pets in the background] Isn’t Wario wonderful!? That nose and mustache!

Hi~! I’m Mona! I'm busy with my part-time job and club activities every day, but I'm going to run through it with high energy today too!

Profile:

My dream for the future:

To become an adventurer!

Person I admire:

I guess I’d say Wario after all! That big and wild nose… super awesome!

Transportation:

[Image of Mona’s bike. Below it reads “Mona Bike!”] Dr. Crygor made it for me!

Part time jobs I’ve done:

I've done a lot of things! I was a gelato shop clerk, a diner waitress, a pizza delivery girl, a rock band's vocalist and guitarist, a Chinese restaurant's poster girl, an amusement park staff member, a reporter, a cameraman, and even a spy... Oops, maybe I shouldn't have said this? [picture of strawberry gelato]

Family:

My papa is an artist and my mama is a supermodel! I'm an only child, but I wish I had an older sister.

My favorite animal:

Baby moth larvae with fluffy fur!

What I’ve been into lately:

I keep an observation record of the flowers I saw today! I like that they’re bumpy, hairy, and shiny!

Introduction from the president (Wario):

Mona thinks I'm cool, and I'm a guy with quite good taste! …however! As an adventurer, she’s not even close to my level! Even if she finds treasure, it's mine, of course! Because the president is amazing! Wahahaha!

~

Cool dancer

JIMMY T.

CV: Yuma Kametani

(Translator’s notes: Jimmy uses a lot of English words. He also uses the first person pronoun “boku.”)

[Image of Jimmy on a lit up dance floor] Oh YEAH~!! Let’s dance together until the morning, YO!

Everybody! I’m glad you came to visit my page, YO! Let's get feverish with COOL steps!

Profile:

How to spend the night:

Dancing until the morning at a nightclub, YO! [Image of Jimmy P]

Hobby:

Checking my emails! YEAH!

Special skill:

I might be second to none when it comes to high-speed flick input on smartphones.

A little boast:

For some reason, cats tend to like me, YO!

Relationship with Wario:

He’s my email friend! We are also childhood friends!

Favorite way to spend my weekends:

Watching the pigeons in the park, YO! And those kids there have some pretty good BEAT and VIBES, YO!

A secret I’ll only share here:

Actually, my afro, well… No, it’s nothing. Forget it.

Introduction from the president (Wario):

Jimmy is my e-mail friend and childhood friend! He teaches me how to make money with blogs like “Afro Eight” and is a very helpful guy! That's why I made him a special employee of the company, but I’ve never paid him a salary! Wahahaha!

~

Apprentice witch

ASHLEY

CV: Ayaka Fukuhara

(Translator’s notes: She speaks using third person in Japanese at times.)

[Image of Ashley with a mansion in the background] …I’m Ashley, the world’s witch.

…I’m Ashley… What do you want? …If I don’t have any use for you, can I use you as an ingredient?

Profile:

Hobby:

…Research on cursed magic.

Specialty:

…To make magic and potions.

What I think is cool:

…Monsters and carnivorous plants.

Things I don’t like:

Cute dresses… sweets… colorful things… I hate them.

Eating style:

…I eat what I like for last.

What I want most right now:

…Frie—… Nothing really.

How many times have you been called cute?:

Tsk…

Introduction from the president (Wario):

Ashley is always with her familiar, Red! She may be a bit perverse, but she's actually lonely!? Since she's an employee of the Wario Company, I'll take care of her! Looks like she can use magic to find treasure! Wahahaha!

~

Ashley’s partner

RED

CV: Mako Muto

(Translator’s notes: Red uses Kansai dialect, and uses the first person pronoun “ore.” He also talks like a kid.)

[Image of Red with Ashley in the background] Alright! Leave the transforming to me!

Yahoo! I am Red! I am Ashley’s partner, as well as her best friend! You came all the way to visit us, so take your time!

Profile:

Where I live:

In a haunted mansion on the edge of town! But I'm actually really scared of this place...

Special skill:

I can transform into something about the same size as me! Like a magic wand or broom! It’s amazing, isn’t it?!

Personality:

I am quite skittish…

What scared me recently:

When I saw my own reflection in the mirror, I freaked out… Eep…

What I think about Ashley:

Ah, it looks like she’s really shy. She remembered her parents from back home and looked into the distance.

Recent thing Ashley did:

She was practicing smiling in front of the mirror the other day! She was so scared! Ah, this is definitely a secret I should keep!

The scariest thing in this world:

Ashley when she’s angry…

Introduction from the president (Wario):

Even though Red is a monster, he's still taking care of Ashley! And I don't know where he learned to speak Kansai dialect! ...That means he might have some talent for business! Okay, me. Let's sell your game all over the world! Of course, we won't give him any rewards! Wahahaha!

~

Mad scientist

DR. CRYGOR

CV: Kensuke Matsui

(Translator’s notes: A gappori machine is a machine that gives loans in cash)

[Image of Dr. Crygor in a green lit laboratory] People call me a genius scientist... And I am actually a genius!

Here... it seems like you got lost on my page. This must also have something to do with me. Could you let me use your body as a test subject?

Profile:

Occupation:

I am a genius scientist that everyone recognizes.

Someone you hang out with often:

My granddaughter Penny, and my assistant Mike.

Hobby:

Dancing flamenco for inspiration.

My secret to youth:

Modifying my own body and wearing a life-prolonging suit. However, I forgot to extend the life of my scalp and ended up going bald.

Recent research:

I am devoting all my energy and research into promoting my hair regrowth.

Representative inventions:

Wario’s Bike, Wario’s Car, Mona’s Bike, Dribble’s Taxi, Kat and Ana's high-tech swords, 9-Volt's skateboard, Jimmy's cell phone, the Karaoke Robot Mike... You can see how genius I am.

About Wario:

I see him as an interesting research subject. I shall do some human experiments on him someday.

Introduction from the president (Wario):

Dr. Crygor is an old man, but he seems to be doing well! He is also the inventor of my Wario Car and my Wario Bike! But it's disgusting that he’s still bragging about that! ...Well, whatever. Someday, I'll have him make a gappori machine that will give me an infinite amount of money! Wahahaha!

~

Karaoke robot

MIKE

CV: Ryota Suzuki

(Translator’s notes: Robot characters use katakana in their visualized speech. They are also polite and use simple sentences.)

[Image of Mike in a room full of viles] I want to sing more and more!

I’m the karaoke robot Mike! What do you think, would you like to sing a song after?

My profile, lyrics and music by Mike:

Creator:

I was created by Dr Crygor.

Body structure:

I have microphones on my head and speakers on my body.

Hobbies:

I like cooking! My fruit punch is very good.

Special skill:

Karaoke, obviously. But for some reason, when I start singing, everyone covers their ears.

My dissatisfaction:

Why does the karaoke robot have to do all the cleaning?

A secret I’ll share only here:

I want to be independent.

Things I’ve been curious about lately:

Those meal serving robots for family restaurants...

Introduction from the president (Wario):

Mike is Dr. Crygor’s assistant! He seems to be good at cooking and doing the laundry, but he seems to have run away from home in disgust once! If he's going to be used badly, he'd be happier being used by me! Next time you run away from home, I’ll use you as my butt wiper! Wahahaha!

~

Future scientist

PENNY

CV: Maya Enokichi

(Translator’s notes: Penny uses the “chan” suffix for her grandpa. She also uses the term “scientist’s egg” which just means she’s a future scientist)

[Image of Penny in a park] My dream is to become the best singing idol scientist in the world!

Hello, nice to meet you! My name is Penny! My grandpa is a fantastic scientist!

Profile:

Occupation:

I’m a Diamond City junior high school student! I’m also a future scientist!

Someone I admire:

Dr. Crygor! He’s my grandpa!

Hobby:

I love singing in front of people! I wish I could be a singer...

My invention masterpiece:

"Sparkly Voice Ultimate" allows anyone to have a beautiful voice!

Things I’m not good at:

Actually, I'm not good at reading music sheets... just looking at the treble clef makes me dizzy...

About my hair accessory:

You can take the heart-shaped hair clip I'm wearing!

A secret I’ll share only here:

I've been checking all the information about idol auditions, but I'm scared. I haven't been able to apply yet...

Introduction from the president (Wario):

Penny is Dr Crygor’s granddaughter! She's a future scientist, but for some reason the minibike she sent to me ended up turning into a mini-mini myself while riding it! What on earth does that mean!? Well, she also has a geeky side. However, if she comes up with an invention that will make money, I will make a lot of money! Wahahaha!

[fandomwritingbit]

Battered & bruised

nightclub owner/William Afton x (fem)reader

synop: You've struggled getting employment because of your shady past, but the tides finally turn in your favour when a club owner called Henry gives you a job. And you're ready to work your arse off, not only in your security role but also with the other owner, William.

warning: swearing, violence. (reader is described as small)

A/n: Hello! This was my first ever au for William, so the ideas are genuinely 5 or 6 years old but the writing is today's lol. This is gonna be a series because I think the slow burn will work best this way.

A bloke called Henry Emily had given you a job. A security gig. Without an interview, without discussion of your role and without an induction. Just bam. He’d taken one look at you - then looked you up and down again for his own personal enjoyment - then listened to your whole speech about ‘wanting a chance to work hard’ and just gone: okay.

No CV. No experience. Nada. And that was exactly what you were looking for. Rent was due and to be honest you were in great need of some money. Plus it was hard for you to find work, especially given your... history. 

He’s hired you because you’re brazen and easy on the eyes, it’s all a bit sleazy really, you’d thought so at the time too. But at least sleazy men are easy to manage.

He’d grinned at you. “Yeah alright, we’ll give you a try. You seem like a nice girl. Uh why don’t you rock up on Friday and we’ll show you the ropes?” 

“Yeah that’s great, thank you so much.” You smiled at him, offering your hand for him to shake it. God if this fella had looked into you this would never have happened, he’s a sucker in that respect. But you wouldn’t make him regret it. You were after nothing but a regular income and it’d been fucking hard to find acceptance, to jeopardise it would be a fool’s errand.

His use of the word 'we' hadn't crossed your mind, you assumed he was the owner, after all you asked for the owner and he was brought to you. But maybe that’s some just desserts for not applying properly. 

~ 

On that Friday, you arrived early, really using all that punctuality shit that had been drilled into you since secondary school. But a little prickle of anxiety settled in when you didn’t see any cars in the car park. You were only 10 minutes early; your start time at 20:00 ready for doors to open an hour later. But How will you get in if no one is there, for fuck’s sake? Your thoughts manifested in your head tilting the whole way back, a hefty sigh accompanying it.

Doubting yourself all the way, you go to the front doors and mercifully, they are unlocked and you walk into the nightclub you’d now call your home from home.

The lights were on, so someone must be there. Yet no one came to meet you at the door, even though you said hello fairly loudly. You smirked to yourself, walking inside uninvited and musing at how some cleaner was probably going to tell you off. They must be hidden away and now you’d have to tiptoe around trying to find them. Not too bad though, at least you can have a look around.

Moving further inside, you walk down a grey corridor with garish black and white dado rail the whole way down. It was peculiar décor to say the least, though obviously, it would look completely different with people inside. 

Your footsteps were foreign in the quiet building, but you tried to keep a bit of confidence as you began your exploration. It took a while to find your way around - a few doors opened to cupboards stuffed with mops and loo roll, spilling out while you tried to shove all the shite back in. Surprisingly, you’d found a kind of lounge area, a few grey and red sofas, some big arse speakers lining the walls: a lot of money in that room, you thought. A past impulse echoing through you.

Eventually, you make your way to the ‘main area’, if you like. The part with the huge floor for people to dance, a small stage before it, with old looking lights and stuff, maybe you’d get to see a few local bands perform during your tenure, could be nice. You walk over to it, the back of the stage pitch black, so dark you couldn't tell if it was a curtain or not and stood on your tippy-toes like an idiot trying to decide. 

Rustling from behind you, makes you turn to see a brightly coloured poster flitting to the floor after clearly having fallen from a board on the wall. You’ll pick it up, but before moving to do so you glance back to the stage offhandedly; the sight of a huge figure standing in the middle makes the skin leave your bones.

You can’t even help yourself, raising your hands almost immediately, “What the fuck are you doing, mate? You scared the shit out of me!” The figure moved further forward so that you could see him, it wasn’t Henry. This man was overly tall and slender with dark greying hair. Your anger quickly subsides at the expression on his face and you chuckle, the shock catching up to you. “Jesus...” 

The man standing on the stage looked... fuming, to say the least. His brows narrowed and jaw stuck forward. He looked so pissed that you panicked for a minute, ready to backtrack a fair bit. But that feeling didn’t last long, the figure stepped down off the stage and walked towards you. As he stood in front of you, you found yourself stepping backwards, tilting your head to meet the eyes of this ridiculously tall and broad bloke. 

“I scared you?” The man spoke slowly, voice deep and raspy. He wasn’t shouting, he didn’t need to. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing in my club?”  

Well. Oh. Dear. It appears that you’d just been rather rude to someone important. Who’s first impression of you as an employee was now you effing and jeffing at him. Shit.

“Look... I’m sorry, mate. You scared me is all.” You speak quickly, trying to claw back a semblance of civility. Searching his face for some emotion other than boredom/anger, but nope there was nothing.

You think you see a flicker of amusement cross his face but it doesn't last two seconds. “I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh uh, I’m y/n.” You look at him for a look of recognition but he appeared none the wiser. “Mr Emily hired me... told me to come in today.” 

You notice the pinch between his brows got more severe and you pick up on the hostility between this fella and your boss. He looked at you blankly, making no effort to fill increasingly brutal silence. You’re just about regretting ever being born, thinking about walking out and knocking on doors ‘til you find another idiot willing to hire you. But to your surprise a demeaning smirk appears on the man’s face as he looks down at you, and you breathe out slightly. 

“Henry hired you?” He scoffs, moving his hand up and down in front of you to illustrate your height, “To do what? Sit on a pot of gold?” You get the feeling that he was trying to annoy you, make you want to storm out or some shit but you can only smirk at that terrible joke. 

“Security, innit.” You say shortly, smiling back because... yeah you weren’t exactly the typical bouncer. “Uh who are you then?” You ask, half a shrug awkward on your shoulders.

He did not look best pleased by that question and folded his arms, eyes daggers at you. “Henry hasn’t told you shit, has he?” A scoff of a laugh came from this bloke but it looked coated in resentment. 

“No, made me look a fuc.... mug.” You mumble.

“We’re co-owners, for some fucking reason.” He looked you up and down but not in the way that his counterpart had, if anything, it looked like he was sizing you up. And after a moment he just said, ��William.” With a curt gesture to himself.

Once such an introduction had been made, he continued to complain, pissed that Henry hadn’t even told you what to do or where to get your uniform. You were thrusted upon him like a shitty diagnosis and he was left to sort you out? Always sorting out Henry’s shit he was.  

And he did sort you out, giving you orders to your responsibilities, going into a store room to get you a uniform, a room you weren’t allowed to enter because of asbestos in the walls. A really comforting thing to hear on your first day, though you'd come to learn that that summed up the whole of this shitty club. 

The whole thing was falling apart, left in this William's hands to sort out. And he was clearly working hard, but it was like trying to piss a fire out.

 ~

You’d thought that the frosty reception from William could have been just because you were new, that he’d probably warm up to you as you got a few weeks under your belt. Well, that wasn’t the case.

From the first day it became abundantly clear that he was just as snippy and unreceptive with everyone else. Be it ignorance, arrogance or plain uninterest, no one really knew, but he went about his role and gave you shit if you dared to overstep into his path. Which was enough motivation for you to put some graft in with the bastard. Fuck’s sake, everyone else was getting on well with you, from security to bar staff, Henry was damn-near obsessed! You’d get him on side, by hook or by fucking crook.

It started with a simple ‘good afternoon’ spoken loudly at him through his office door, letting him know your presence in the building, which was nearly always much earlier than everyone else. Then a smile any time you encountered him, not a suck-up kind of sweet smile but the kind that had raised eyebrows, self-deprecating and the like. 

Yet it still felt like he bloody hated you. Not even a passionate hate, like you’d done something to genuinely offend him or run him over on the way there. A bored kind of vague dislike that he held for everyone else.

That won’t stand though. And you’re determined to fix it.

~

You’d come to learn over your short tenure there that Friday nights were fucking brutal. It seemed fuckers from all over would crawl out of the gutter to get pissed with their mates here. Course, it was good for business but as an employee not an owner you got all the hassle and none of the tassel. You were on duty in the main area and stood a post near the back corridors, watching for any odd behaviour and making sure everyone was as happy as you can be in a crumbling nightclub.

You find yourself clock-watching about half-way in and cross your fingers that the night will go mercifully quickly. Your counting of the minutes ‘til you could clock off is interrupted by a youngish lass coming up to you. Instantly your eyebrows are high, the person on the door dropped the ball on this one, this lass barely looked 18. 

“Hey, do you uh work here?” The girl asks, looking over her shoulder for a second, before returning to you. You almost want to roll your eyes, of course you fucking work there, no one would do patrol for fun, would they? Carry a radio around for the craic of it? But her wide eyes make you bite your tongue and assess the situation more levelly. 

“Yeah, is everything alright?” You smile wryly, hoping it comes across encouragingly, but your tiredness might have prevented that. 

“I uh... there’s this guy, he won’t leave me and my friends alone.” She rubs her arm, “You know, just being real creepy...” You nod, what a joy and sadly not an uncommon one. 

“Where are your friends?” You ask, looking at the young lass in front of you in increasing doubt that she should be here. 

She looked over her shoulder, “Over there, in the red.” she said, and you spotted the two girls she meant instantly, and nod, able to pick out the guy she was talking about who was hanging around these girls much too closely. “We’re uh...” she looked down, shame flickering on her face. “We’re minors, please don’t be mad at me, I just... we don’t want to be harassed.” 

You smile, remembering your similar youth, musing that fake IDs must be fairly fucking hard to find nowadays. And decided to take pity on the lass, it wasn’t nice to turf them out when the problem hadn't been their doing at all and to be frank, it’s above your pay grade, isn’t it? “I’m not going to throw you out, don’t worry... though you shouldn’t be here if you’re not 18.” 

You sigh, “I’ll get him to leave but promise me you’ll stick together with your mates, ay?” She nods and thanks you extensively before you wish her well and go to fulfil your promise. Silently noting to tell Ste the doorman that he needs to get a pissing eye test.

The problem man was a heavy-set guy with a beard and a clearly designer shirt. A complete stereotype that you knew already, would be trouble. You take a breath before going over, mentally doing the sign of the cross over yourself, not that you thought it would do anything, it was more for your own comedic enjoyment, but if a higher power should see it, that’d be nice. 

“Excuse me, sir.” You say, loud enough for the people around him to slowly start drifting away. As if sensing the unfolding scene the man looks at you with pre-emptive annoyance. 

“Yeah?” He says as rudely as you expected.

You sigh, trying to remain as diplomatic as possible. “Your behaviour towards the young girls here is untoward and we won’t tolerate that here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” 

'Ask’ is the customer service way of telling him to get the fuck out and his reaction suggests that he knew that. 

“Leave? I ain’t done nothing.” The question was asked loudly, trying to alert people around as to the perceived ridiculousness of what you were saying. Though the double negative hinted at him having done something, to say the least.

“That’s not what I’ve been told. Please leave, sir.” You repeat yourself, more authoritarian this time, your tone firm and leaning towards annoyance. It was embarrassing having to do this, but you knew that it was worth it to keep the girl you’d spoken to safe. The look on her face was enough to make you despise this man. 

“And what if I say no?” He stepped forward after he spoke, squaring up to you, trying his hand at the old intimidation game. And despite his height over you, you keep rooted, looking at him with daggers.  

“Sir. You’re embarrassing yourself.” You scoff, shaking your head. By this point that second-hand shame had caused the others nearby to either watch intently or move away. “A grown man having to be told to leave young lasses alone, for fuck sake.” Stepping forward yourself, you make your disgust visible. It had the opposite effect than intended and the man before you bubbled with rage. 

“What the fuck did you say to me, you little bitch?” 

“Stop being pathetic-” Your words of disbelief and amounting hatred were cut short when the huge bloke grabbed your arm bruisingly, wrenching you towards him. His larger stature allows him to manipulate your frame fairly easily.

William had a nose for trouble and as he stalked out from his office he caught sight of people leaving the main room. He shakes his head already annoyed at whatever he was to discover. Of all the things that he could have seen, an accident, injury etc... he didn't expect a man to be manhandling one of his employees. Least of all you. You who always smiled at him, even though it got nothing in return. You who shouted ‘afternoon!’ at him through his office door, often making him slosh coffee in surprise. You, who talked to him and engaged with him, unbothered by his reputation or generally unpleasant demeanour. How fucking dare someone put their hands on you. 

“Stupid fucking slag.” The man spat, it landed on your skin. 

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” You manage, your teeth clenched as you clasped at straws to try and de-escalate this borderline assault, hoping he’d realise how far out of proportion he’d blown this. He didn’t. Instead, your words were petrol on a fire and the sharp ringing of a slap could be heard over the music. 

It was so harsh and crisp, for a moment you were dazed. The attack launches you into the difficult decision of fight or flight. It wasn’t the heat of the print on your face that made you react, however; it was the piggish sneer on his fucking face. 

Punching him hard, square in the nose, you feel the old familiar sensation of pain blooming through your hand. From the point of contact it fizzled like static down your knuckles and up your arm, though it barely hurt over the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

Your attack didn't deter him though, his grip on your arm not faltering even as the other rose to his face in shock. Taking your window of opportunity you strike him again, blood now pouring down his face, it provokes him to yank your arm straight, the grip blue pain on your flesh.

Powerless to do much else, you had to take his revenge, a punch that made you vision flicker, landing hard below your eye. Then another. You were reeling, your standing knocked with the strikes, it hurt but you burned with indignation that you were unable to hit this fucker again.

Straining to get away from the assault of raining blows, you grab his hair, pulling hard, the sensation of it lifting under your grip apparent in his grunt. It was then with a fist full of this cunt's hair that his grip on you failed. You look through blurred eyes to see your boss taking hold of him, pulling him by the shoulder into a balled fist.

The man wasn't going down easy, even though Afton got a strong hit on him, the man retaliated, striking back and you see the impact on your boss and his slight stumble, but it motivated him to take it to a new level. 

He grabbed the man's head, pulling his stance in half, doubled over and raised his knee repeatedly into his face. Not stopping until he was satisfied, then shoving the larger man to the floor, and kicking him hard in the stomach and teeth, to the point where the attackers' whimpers were beginning to subside. You watched pretty horrified whilst other staff tried to herd patrons away.

Yanking the man up by his collar hissed something inaudible for you to his ear, before punching him again, letting him fall back down.

He was pulled outside by William, the bouncers too shocked to intervene and you just followed the display stupidly. You had no idea this man was capable of such... violence. Cause that was no fight, it was violence.

Afton left the man flicking in and about of consciousness on the curb outside, spitting on him when he mumbled a lisped "fuck you" in his direction.

You were watching in awe, when all of a sudden he turned to you, his face bloody and a hesitation for pain in his jaw.

"Are you alright?" He questions.

You blink. "Yeah..."

"You're bleeding?" He points out as though you were much stupider than you are.

"I'm banged up, but alright." You say quickly, searching his eyes for any acknowledgement of what had just happened. You had a nagging feeling that he was about to shout at you, ask what the fuck that was about. Hell maybe even sack you for the beating he just took.

"Nowhere near as bad as you are." You follow up. And that was putting it lightly, it looked like his nose was broken and his jaw must hurt in some way for how he slowly shuffled it, waiting to find where the pain was.

He scoffs at you, instantly regretting it as blood begins trickling over his lip, you wince alongside him as he wipes it on the back of his hand. With a grunt he turns his back and heads back inside.

Taken aback at his nonchalance, you struggle to get the words out. "Where's the first aid?" You call after him, your question stopping him in his tracks.

“There’s one in my office if you need it.” He replies from over his shoulder, continuing to walk away. You throw a shrug and slightly surprised sigh in the direction of his retreating form, before hurrying to catch up with him. You’d laugh if your head wasn't fucking banging. 

Finally managing to reach him, you force your frame next to him on the corridor, walking side by side towards the back. 

“I don’t know if I need it... you need stitches or something though, mat- William.” 

“Says who?” His response is typically gruff and at this point you’re more than used to it. 

Managing a smirk through the high-pitched pain behind your eyes, you don't let his uncaring attitude deter you. “The cut above your brow. Practically screaming it.”

Letting you follow him, he pauses briefly. To be honest, the strike to the brow had wiped itself from his memory, which was not at all a good sign, but the second you pointed it out he became very aware of the crispening blood hindering any movement of his face. Fucking stitches? And what, you were gonna do that, were you? Just what he needed, a headache on top of the one he already had.

“Seriously, this is my fault. Let me help you out, least I can do.” 

“I’m fine, just need a drink... maybe a co-codamol.” He said not another word to you but made no effort to get you away from him and so you followed, half uncertain like a lost dog, all the way to his office at the back. 

The way he moved it was hard to keep up with him, his huge height gave him a stride and a half. But you get there finally, and he doesn't bother to hold his office door open for you, letting it nearly hit you as it swung closed. 

You survive and slip inside the office, just in time to see him slap the first aid kit on a table at the far side of the room. You go over to it and open it up, delighted to see that what once was a bottle of antiseptic was now half a thing of Dettol with a sewing kit beside it. Not a medical one, just your standard hotel one, with different coloured pieces of thread and a blunt looking needle. 

“I see why you said no to the stitches.” You grin, watching the man sit down heavily at the table. He attempted to rub the space between his eyebrows but had to abandon the gesture as it interfered with his injuries.  

“I told you.” He mumbles.

“Yeah well... Dettol will do something I guess.” You sit as well and start pouring the disinfectant on a cotton pad that you hope hadn’t been used before. 

Just as you move to dab it over the hardened gash, he pulls away suddenly, a pissed off look about him that you should have probably been intimidated by, but your reaction time is fucked by your headache.. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He speaks through his teeth, not at all happy with the sudden movement.

“Sorting out your split brow. I have said it a fair few times now, you’re starting to worry me.” You wait for him to start going in on you, shouting or whatever the fuck he’d normally do to anyone trying to be nice. But he doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you, the annoyed expression unmoving.

Over the past month or so he’d become quite used to your... demeanour. You didn’t offer any tact towards him, or just keep your head down like others. You took the opposite route, always had something to fucking say, some comment to make. It had grated on him, but he didn’t mind it really, though you weren’t going to get special treatment just because you don't know when to shut your damn mouth. 

“So...” You prompt, shaking the cotton bud in front of him.

He didn’t dignify you with a response, just a swift nod.

“This is gonna sting, just don’t move so I don’t get it in your eye.” You warn whilst getting closer, it was quite unnerving to be this close to him, god’s sake you could hear him breathing.

As you pressed the fabric against his cut, he didn’t flinch like you would have expected, just remained reticent and staring forward. Though he let himself glance at you, noting how far you had to lean to reach him. God you were small, much too small to have been wailed on by a massive fuck like that. Being honest, he was surprised you were still standing. 

He surprises himself by breaking the silence. “... Dettol doesn’t sting... better than antiseptic.” 

A smirk finds itself on your face, “Had a lot of experience then?” That isn’t shocking news, there was something practised about the way he took down that man.

A small sound leaves him and you almost stop your action. This man can laugh? Could have fooled you. “You could say that. Don’t often get the shit beaten out of me though.” 

Disbelief washes over you. “The shit beaten outta you?” You scoff. “You’re fine.” You blink a little. This was the textbook definition of ‘you should see the other guy’. Seriously, he couldn’t walk and was barely conscious. This cunt? Pretty much fine, minus a few scratches. 

Once you’re done with disinfectant you rifle through the box looking for something better than the sewing kit. A plaster probably wouldn’t cut it, in an ideal world he should probably be in A&E. But eventually you get your hands on a pack of steri strips and right now they look better than gold. “Here, I don’t even have to mutilate you with the needle.” You grin and it earns a small lip twitch from your would-be pin cushion. 

As you lean forward with the strips in hand, he doesn’t flinch from you even though it hurts to fuck when you push the cut closed to seal it. He notices as you're patching him up that your hand is covered in blood, it could be the bloke's at first glance but your knuckles look bust and there's a stiffness to your movement. 

You finish up with the gash and step back a bit, smirking, it’s a fine job you’ve done there. 

“Thanks.” He offers, just as plainly as you’ve come to expect. It makes you halt a second though, his pronunciation was off, so maybe he wasn’t as fine as you initially thought. Leaning forward, you go to investigate but he pulls himself from your grip. 

“Leave it, it's fine...” It started sharp, but softened a bit as he caught sight of your arm. Holy shit. That was a number alright. Clearly already bruised from that dickhead’s hold, there were three distinct scratches down the length of your forearm where the man had evidently tried to hold on to you as he’d yanked him away, that explains the stiffness. 

Looking at him you try to figure out what isn't right and eventually you settle on: "I think your nose is broken."

He reaches up himself, feeling along the bridge of his nose, the scowl on his face telling. "It isn’t." He concludes, briefly thinking ‘somehow’. With that, you start putting the medical stuff back in the box, just ignoring his curtness. You'd done your bit and patched him up, clearly your kindness was too much for him, so off you fucking pop, sheesh.

You hardly even get the equipment back in the box before Afton reaches forward and slides everything out of your grasp. Instinctively your brows raise, unsure of why he did that. “Are we not done?” You ask, uncertainly, maybe this is the part where he bollocks you. 

“Sit down. Your arm needs sorting.” His words aren’t a suggestion. You look down to see what he’s talking about and wince at the sight; how hadn’t you noticed the scratches? They look awful, not that deep but plain ugly and sore now you come to think of it. 

“Shit.” You say in your observation, slowly sitting whilst still watching your arm. So wrapped up in this new discovery that you jump when he reaches forward to grab your wrist, his big hands wrap all the way around it easily, man, this is a scary bloke. He pulls your arm slowly in front of him, not gently but certainly more understanding than you would have expected. 

“I don’t even know how he done that.” You fill the silence, thinking aloud. 

“Rings.” He answers, with a but too much knowledge, “Must have a fair bit of your arm stuck under them.” You almost laugh, but the visual is too grim and likely accurate. Looking up at him you see clear amusement on his face. 

The Dettol is again brought out and when he dabs it too your scratches a cold pain reaches all the way up your arm, making you suck in through your teeth. He glances up at you and all you can say is. “You’re a fucking liar. That stings like hell.” 

The man in front of you grins then, a starling crooked smirk that almost makes him look like a different bloke. It’s a handsome expression that’s made slightly menacing by a missing tooth after his canine above two silver ones. You think to yourself that this man has taken a lot of fucking beatings.

Through his grin, William says, “It’s not that bad.” 

“Yeah alright, tough guy.” You dismiss him, trying to ignore that ache in your arm that makes you want to grind your teeth. 

He looks back down to his task and the unusual expression remains on his face somewhat involuntarily. You notice and soon you’re smiling too, unable to help it, maybe the whole shitshow was catching up to you now, fisticuffs with a man well outside your weight class, only to be ‘rescued’ by your stoic, unnerving boss; and to top off the day of the unexpected, you made the fucker smile. Quite the day.

“So you can smile then?” You ask coyly, it’s a little victory that shows you’re successful chipping away at his frosty exterior, he’ll be a mate eventually. 

He looks up at you quickly, his eyes narrow in that scrutinising way everyone who works here is accustomed to. But where an icy glare would usually have been a cocky, “Must be the head injury.” was. 

~

You’re patched up pretty quickly, the cleaning of the wound taking half as much time as the debate about whether or not you need a bandage. You said it would be fine. He argues it’s necessity. And despite your assurance you’re now standing at his office door with a bandage tightly wrapped around your arm. You notice that the second the door was opened you could hear the dull thud of music, escaping the club and plaguing the managers too; good, you think. 

He follows you out of the room, the two of you must look like a right pair, both beaten to shit. Looking in the reflection of the window to the office confirms as much, you’ve a nasty bruise under your eye, and a swelling that would probably make it difficult to open your eye in the morning. You’ve been in this situation before. As has he. 

There in the narrow hallway you look up at him, feeling confronted by the height difference, now so obvious when you’re both standing. “Thank you for that.” You give him a genuine expression, really meaning it, even though your arm hurts more now than it did before. 

“I only returned the favour.” He answers, pausing for a moment whilst he checks his watch. “You should go home. Obviously you’ll be paid for the whole shift.” He adds the last part as if he thought you’d object, there must have been something about your face that said you might. 

“Yeah, okay.” You smile a little, before you remember that he’s well more banged up than you, his shirt is covered in the blood to prove it, if you get leave surely he should as well. “Are you going-” You begin to ask, but the door to the club opens and a man bursting through it cuts you off. 

“What the fuck?!” Henry’s voice was bordering on hysterical, cutting shrill above the buzz of music and you don’t have to look to see eye rolling of your other boss. “William, tell me why the hell I’ve got 14 missed calls and a voicemail saying all shit has hit the fan?!” You stand awkwardly as Henry comes up to the both of you, there’s daggers in his eyes that are reserved purely for Afton. 

“Easy, you’re a bit late with all this cavalry shit.” William snaps, his head is throbbing too much to deal with the headache that is his co-worker. “There was an incident, some silly fucker got violent. He’s been sorted.” You try not to grin at that, ‘sorted’, that’s one way to put it. 

“So have you, by the looks of it. I swear to God, William, if this bites me in the arse, you’ll look worse than that.” Everyone standing there knows that that’s an empty threat, not that Henry wasn't capable of it, but rather that William towers over him. That seems to resonate with the instigator when he locks eyes with William’s uncaring and hard expression, so Henry moves on. 

“Are you alright, darling?” He asks his voice now sugary, all his attention is on you, as well as a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah. Just a few scrapes, I’ll live.” You keep all traces of amusement from your face, even as he begins to walk you out of the club in the direction of the car he thought you had, talking to you like you're a kid the whole way.