#this is canon and you can't take it away from me

[abbotsanatomy]

(Desperately) begging for a fic where reader is experiencing Whitaker-levels of a bad day including a stubborn argument with Jack and she just crashes out on the rooftop and he’s just like comforting her 🙏

⨳ REALLY VERY BAD DAY

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: gross fluids (blood, vomit, etc.), minor injury, severe second hand embarrassment, injections, suicidal ideation, but not rlly. this isn't beta'd. author's note: this man is canonically sooo bad at comfort, so this gets a lil silly!

Your entire shift is exactly 12 hours. Somehow, you managed to have six different catastrophes happen to you in that limited time. That's an average of one every two hours. The odds have got to be completely stacked against you.

You should've known, when the first hour of your shift ended with a kid, who'd come in with a stomachache, throwing up all over your scrubs. It happens all the time, so you weren't too pessimistic about how the rest of the night would go by that point.

Little did you know, that was a sign from the universe. You should've taken it and clocked out instead of using your first scrub credit of the night.

By 11:00, you were slowly losing your optimism. You'd been taking out a patient's IV cannula when you apparently pricked yourself through your gloves. You only realized much later, when the antiseptic sanitizer you were using stung a little too much.

The moment you noticed, you checked the patient's medical record for any blood-borne diseases that might spread to you. And lo and behold, he had HBV.

You found Jack at the nurse's station, picking up some labs for a patient.

“I'm gonna need you to give me an HBV PEP injection. Please,” you'd whispered, as close to him as possible.

“Why would you need that?” he asked casually.

“I have a needle-stick injury.”

He looked over at you, finally. There's a silent disappointment in his eyes. Jack's one of the most composed people you know, but you also know he's a worrier. He won't let it show now, but he'll definitely be all over you the moment you're both back home.

The night shift's charge nurse walked into the station you're both standing at. She let Jack know his patient needed emergency surgery, and would be admitted to general surgery in a few minutes. When he told her he'd be right there, he turned to you again.

“You can't give it to yourself?” you know he isn't asking out of reluctance to do it, just curiosity.

“I need... some comfort.”

It wasn't a complete lie. The night'd already been getting difficult. You just wanted his hands on you for a minute. It'd make you feel better. You're afraid you haven't gotten to that point in the relationship where you could admit all of that out loud, though. But he seems to have gotten it.

“Alright. Go wait in there,” he pointed to a curtained corner of the ER, and then turned to walk away.

The words made you almost kiss him on the mouth. Instead, you walked to sit on the recliner and prepared the shot.

It took three minutes of waiting, before he's walked in and pulled the curtain half closed behind him. You swung your legs, staring down at your feet the entire time he's prepping to get this done.

“You have to be more careful,” he whispered, uncovering the syringe.

His voice was a little tense. You know he doesn't like reprimanding you. It puts you both in an awkward situation, but as your superior, he has to do it. You appreciate the criticism, but Jack happens to think it adds an uncomfortable impersonality to your relationship.

You could only offer a nod back. He let you hold onto his arm the whole time. You pulled his hand onto yours, as he used a plaster to cover the injection site. He pressed a kiss right above it before covering your arm with your sleeve again. The whole affair only took about five minutes, but it was the best part of your night.

When he was done, Jack stepped in front of you, his hand still holding onto yours. He leaned in, the proximity meaning you couldn't possibly look anywhere but his eyes.

“You'll be more careful?” he asked. He wanted you to repeat it.

“Yeah, I'll take care,” you affirmed. There was a thinly veiled promise in the affirmation. You were telling him you won't make any more of these mistakes that are completely beneath you. It was more for his peace of mind than anything else.

He pulled your conjoined hands up to his lips, lowering his lips to the back of yours.

The dull pain in your shoulder from the injection made it infinitely harder to hold your patient's jugular closed with your fingers.

It isn't very common for a patient to come in with a knife to his throat. Needless to say, you've never had to pull a carving knife out of someone's jugular, and then use your fingers to keep it closed.

The blood everywhere is a given, considering the severity of the injury, but the crimson droplets streaking your face and scrub top are all thanks to your unsteady grip.

You were hyperaware of the fact that this guy had been dead. He was dead long before he came into the ER. He'd only still been alive on a technicality. One that was long gone by this point.

He'd lost too much blood on the way to the PTMC, and there's no amount of available blood bags that could replenish it all. You couldn't stop holding onto him, though. Not when the steady stream stopped. Not when his pulse faded into nothing.

Not until Jack slipped behind you and pulled your hands away with a firm grip. He'd whispered meaningless encouragements into your ear, telling you to go take a minute for yourself. He might've offered to help, but you were too out of it to remember exactly what was said.

You were barely there the whole time. Washing the blood out of your hair, and changing your scrubs in the ER bathroom. It all didn't feel real. It took you a good hour to get back to normal. As normal as ‘normal’ gets after whatever the fuck that was.

You were glad when tripped over some spilt saline fluid and fell face-first on the ER's cold floor. Your chin was busted, but you actually felt something. It'd been hours of walking around stitching wounds up, looking over x-rays and blood work results, and feeling like a ghost who floats around the floor with no purpose.

Thankfully, when you looked in the mirror, it appeared like there were no broken bones. Just a scratch on your forehead, and a bleeding chin. No one wants a doctor who looks like they just got beat up, so your number one priority was disinfecting your mess of a face and covering up all of the nastiness.

When you reached for some normal, adult plaster, though, it was all gone. The storage locker wouldn't be open for another few hours, either. You let out the biggest sigh known to mankind when you spotted the children's bandaids.

Looking back into the mirror, you saw how ridiculous it looked to have farm animals plastered on your forehead, and a family of brightly colored elephants on your chin.

You couldn't seem to find it in yourself to care. You do almost snap at Chen when he tries to crack a joke at your expense, though.

The lock on the blood bank refrigerator had been broken for months.

You keep filing complaint after complaint, for the higher-ups to send someone to fix it. You and everyone in the department, in fact. But to no avail. It took you five minutes longer than it should to finally grab a fresh bag of donated blood out of the shelf.

So, you rushed back to Ellis. It's stupid, considering you'd just fell an hour ago. The patient's more important than logic.

The moment you crashed into an intern standing in the middle of the ER played in slow motion. You watched the bag drop to the floor, saw the plastic snap, felt the blood seep into your black work sneakers.

The ‘O-’ label on the bag stared back up at you, as you stood there in shock for a moment. Every muscle in your body started aching. It was suddenly painful to even breathe. You were barely holding yourself together, and this relatively small inconvenience was your very last straw.

“Fuck,” you whispered, not even registering the intern's profuse apologies, aimed at you.

You let out one long sigh, and your shoulders started shaking. Your chin came into contact with your chest, as you felt something painful stir within you. The feeling of helpless disappointment had been gnawing at you for hours. Now, it engulfed you completely. You'd had no idea how long you stood there, your eyes screwed tight, as the rest of the ER kept buzzing around you.

Familiar hands gripping your shoulders and pulling you away is the first thing you felt. Looking down at your feet as they lead you wherever you were being guided was a fatal mistake. You saw the bloodied shoe prints you left behind and felt even worse, if that was possible. So, you let your eyes flutter shut again.

When you were finally sat down on the edge somewhere, your face felt undeniably cold. That's when you realized you'd been shedding tears the entire time. The familiar feeling of embarrassment that bubbled up in your throat when you were vulnerable around big groups of people never arrived. Just a steady numbness.

The heavy breeze on the PTMC's roof made the salty tears on your face feel like tiny pinpricks of despair. You hoped it could also make you fly very far away from this building, never to return again. Alas, not all dreams come true.

“I did so, so badly today,” you confessed, your voice sounding thick and foreign to your own ears.

Jack frowned at you, his eyes scanning your entire face. You noticed his frown deepen almost imperceptibly when he landed on the bandaids covering your face. You were sure he'd make fun of them if today hadn't gone so badly.

He looked like he was calculating his next words very carefully, “That's alright. We have tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.”

Oh boy, that wasn't making you feel any better. In fact, it might've made you want to jump off of the very same roof you sat on right now. You stared off into the distance, calculating the height of the jump.

Apparently, Jack didn't get the memo.

“You'll always have chances to do better. You're still young. The worst day of your life can never define your entire being,” he rambled on. It was starting to seem like he was just trying to find it along the way.

Your eyes screwed shut in an attempt to tune your very sweet, but very misguided, boyfriend out. When it didn't work, you resorted to just blurting out the words on your mind.

Unfortunately, it had come out meaner than intended, “Shut up. Just stop talking, please.”

Jack was just about to talk again when you interrupted him with a plea, “I'll pay you.”

His eyes were sad. You knew he was trying, it just wasn't what you needed at all. You swung your legs, trying to play off the shame you felt at the way you spoke to him earlier. You couldn't apologize just yet though, lest he go on another tangent.

His voice was raw, but not hurt, “Do you need me to leave?”

You shook your head frantically. Just the thought of it hurt your brain.

“No. No. Just stay right here,” you whispered, and pulled his arm close.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, the scent of his drug-store shampoo filling your nose. It worked wonders for your nerves.

“Just no more talking, please,” you begged, voice growing heavy with exhaustion.

Jack laughed. In that moment, it was like hearing the angels sing. You could listen to the sound for hours.

You could feel him nod against your head, and then press his lips into your hair.

“Alright, honey. Whatever you need.”

You were fully hugging his arm, now. Shamelessly letting yourself snuggle against his body heat. You knew you had to go downstairs and clock out to get home.

But right here, with the first rays of dawn slowly making their way onto your face, and Jack's free hand coming up to stroke your hair, it felt like you were already home.

A thousand horrible motivational speeches couldn't change that.

[stitch-away]

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 day 4 - welcome to the qz ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

pairing: joel miller x reader (gender unspecified)

summary: you bring joel to the qz for a much needed shower. but everything goes south

tags: MDNI no smut but there's nude joel + slight grinding, feral joel miller, fluff, angst, hurt comfort, canon typical violence, descriptions of violence, animal death, blood, ptsd, amnesia, grunty joel bc he can't speak

word count: 5.7k

series: feral joel miller

a/n: i wanted to finish this chapter ages ago but midsem break ended so i'm back on the study grind <//3 the reader's gender is not mentioned. it's kind of implied to be male reader but like barely. i plan on it getting more explicit etc so then it will probably become male reader. but for now it's gn

your chest feels tight, your laboured breathing bringing your mind out of its slumber. as soon as you wheeze you feel the pressure immediately lifted. large hands grab your waist and you’re flipped onto your back. your head smacks against the ground, throwing your eyes open. you’re met with panicked brown eyes, a mere inch from your face. joel. 

last night hits you, as does the stench that lingers on joel. he let you stay with him. or, more accurately, he was not letting you leave him. 

he nudges his head forwards, eyes still wild with fear. he tightens his grip on your waist, letting out a soft grunt. 

“joel,” you smile, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair, “you were crushing me, weren’t you? that’s okay. i’m alright.” with that reassurance, joel pulls you up into his arms, holding you suffocatingly tight as he lets you pet his hair. he lets out a low purr, nuzzling his nose into your neck and inhaling your scent.

“good morning to you too,” you giggle, running both your hands through his hair. as you feel the grime and dirt in his hair, you remember what you wanted to do for him next. “your hair’s a little grimey, buddy. how about i take you back to my place? we’ll get you a shower and clean some of your clothes, yeah?” 

joel stiffens, his purring halting as mind processes the idea of heading into the qz. all those people. all those sounds, loud and painful. it’s the last thing he wants. he growls, pulling back to let you see the discomfort in his eyes. 

“i know it’s scary for you,” you sigh, softly scratching his scalp, “but i promise it’ll be okay. my apartment is quiet. you just gotta trust me to get you there.” despite his reservations, the way you're scratching his scalp and the soft tone of your voice soothes joel. as reluctant as he is, he trusts you now. it's been so long since he's been around another human, let alone trust them the way he does you. it's a scary feeling but he's letting himself feel it. 

he nods, relaxing his grip on you. lord help him if you give him a reason to regret this. 

“thank you,” you whisper, throwing your arms around his neck hugging him tight, “let's go. i wanna show you place– not that it's very exciting.” you chuckle, standing up and offering joel a hand. “i can introduce you to the delicacies of the qz– canned beans.” joel scrunches his nose. “yeah, that’s about right.” 

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

getting joel leave the forest is tough. he sits at the edge, on his hands and feet, with a pout on his lips and his eyes narrowed. you stand only a few feet away, a little dishevelled from last night, frowning with your hands on your hips. 

“c’mon, joel,” you whine, “it’s not a big deal. you probably need the sun, hiding in that dingy forest all the time.” joel scowls and grunts, turning his head away from you. 

“dude, what are you? 5 years old?” joel snaps his head back, eyes wide as brow furrows deeper. “yeah, well, then don’t act like it.” 

he scowls again but finally moves. he crawls out slowly, feeling at the different texture of the ground outside the forest. it’s drier but the grass is soft. it’s not unkind to joel’s calloused hands, almost welcoming. as he crawls forwards, he looks up at you. there’s a nervousness in his eyes he’s looking to you to quell. 

“you wanna stand?” you ask, “you’ll need to once we get inside the qz.” he nods and rises to his feet. as he stretches out, uncurling his muscles, he towers over you. you’re still not used to the shear size of the man but it’s no longer intimidating, almost comforting now. maybe it’s because you know he trusts you, the only person in 20 years, or because of how he cared for you overnight. regardless, it’s a sense of comradery and belonging you haven’t felt in a long time.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

the walk along the trail is undisturbed. joel seems content to walk alongside you. but as you get closer to the qz, the noise of the bustling city reaches joel’s ear. he shakes his head, letting out a snarl as he slows down. you turn to face him, wincing slightly. you feel a little bad for whining at him before. 

“hey,” you place a hand on his shoulder and he flinches, “hey, hey, it’s alright.” you soften your voice, rubbing soft circles on joel’s shoulder. “i promise this is gonna be okay. just stay close to me and cover your ears if you need to. c’mon.” you slip your hand down to hold his. it’s harsh and rough against your soft palm and much bigger, his fingers engulfing your hand. you see his jaw clench and him nod.

as the guards come into view, joel’s grip tightens on your hand. you give his hand a soft squeeze before he finally let’s go, covering his ears. the guards give joel some foul looks but they let him in without much of a hassle. 

you grab hold of joel’s shirt, tugging him into the busy streets of the qz. the city assaults joel’s senses, causing him to whimper, not loud enough for others, but enough for you to hear. his eyes meet yours, saying all the words he can’t speak. without a second thought, you run, pulling joel with you down the street. he’s more than capable of keeping up as you curl round corners and clamber up the stairs to your apartment. you look back at joel every now and then, giving him a smile. your running became more like a game of cat and mouse than a desperate measure to help joel adjust to his environment. you even get a flash of a smile from him. 

unlocking the door in less than a second, the pair of you burst inside, you jumping straight onto the couch. joel follows you, leaping out the couch to smother you. he nuzzles his head into your neck, letting out a grumble that sounds like a cross between a chuckle and an appreciation. you laugh, feeling the way joel’s beard tickles your neck.

“alright, buddy,” you chuckle, pushing at his shoulders, “you need to hop off. we gotta get you in the shower before you stink out my whole apartment. joel whines, pulling back to rest on your hips. he has a soft pout on his lips as he straddles you, pressing his weight down on your crotch. a moan slips from your lips before you can stop it. joel immediately lifts his hips, hovering over you on his hands and knees. he grunts softly, his eyes wide with concern, he’s terrified he’s hurt you. ignoring the heat in your crotch, you cup joel’s cheeks, softly brushing his beard.

“it’s okay, joel,” you whisper, shaking your head, “you didn’t do anything wrong, buddy. uh– just hop up. i’ll run the shower for you– or would a bath be easier? doesn’t matter.” joel crawls off the couch, a confused look on his face. you really don’t wanna have “the talk” with a grown-ass man. maybe he doesn’t need the talk, maybe he knows but genuinely thought he hurt you. you push those thoughts aside– along with the image of him undressing the other day that has decided to intrude at this moment– and head into the bathroom.

it’s small, a tight squeeze for the two of you, but joel manages to fit in the bath. he squats down, staring at you, sitting awkwardly in this foreign object. 

“so, i’m gonna turn on the water,” you say, pointing at the tap, “it’ll come out at the end. it’s gonna be cold, okay? and i need ya to take your clothes off now.” joel frowns, pulling at his clothes in question. 

“it’s okay now,” you clarify, “we’re in a bathroom and you’re getting ready for a bath. you take your clothes off when you bathe.” joel still looks unsure but starts to pull his shirt off, chucking it on the bathroom floor. seeing his broad, hairy chest and sculptured muscles, fully on display in the soft light of the bathroom, is something you’ll never forget. he looks like heaven.

he stands, hitting his back on the cold tile walls, arms huddled tight to himself as he tries to unbuckle his jeans without hitting his elbows too. he lets his jean drop, his buckle clipping the edge of the bath. to your surprise, joel doesn't wear underwear– why would he need to out there in the forest? you slap a hand over your eyes out of instinct, only hearing a soft rustle as joel pulls his jeans and the new boots you got him all the way off. he grunts at you, chucking the clothes at your feet. when you don’t uncover your eyes, joel barks at you. 

“did you just bark at me?” you ask, dropping your hand. you’re greeted by the sight of joel’s nude body crouched in the tub. his thighs are thick with muscle and peppered with the same dark brown hair on chest. between those thighs is a dense patch of hair, left to grow wild for 20 years. despite the lack of maintenance, it does little to hide the size of his cock, hanging between his legs, taunting you. he’s thick, even flaccid, with a good four inches and he’s uncut. 

you pull your eyes from his junk, back up to his face as he barks at you again. he has a wide smile on his lips, clearly enjoying your reaction to his body. he hasn’t had anyone look at him softly in years, let alone look at him with the kind of hunger you are now. it’s intimidating being truly looked at after all this time, but the warmth of your gaze dulls any anxiety. 

“you’re right,” you chuckle, “i should actually wash you instead of just staring.” you pick up joel’s clothes and dump them in the laundry basket. you head back over to joel, grabbing the soap, shampoo and conditioner, and a flannel, kneeling down beside the tub. 

“remember, it’ll be cold,” you say, placing your hand on the tap, “it’ll take a little while for it to heat up, so bark when it’s warm enough for you, okay?” joel nods, tensing a little as you turn on the tap but he doesn’t snap or snarl at you. “good boy.” 

joel’s ears twitch and he turns his head to look up at you. you see a flash of affection in his eyes before he shakes his head and frowns, turning away so you can’t see his flushing cheeks. 

“come on, cutie,” you smirk, unable to stop yourself from teasing him. he groans at you and then barks, nodding at the tap. you switch it off and start to wash his body with the soapy flannel. he flinches but lets you wash his back.

you’re gentle at first, getting him used to your touch. as he eases, you scrub a little harder. the grime on joel’s body is practically baked on there. 

the water turns brown as the dirt washes off of joel. with the dirt dissipating, you can see the scars the marr his body. he’s been out on his own for so long, it only makes sense that he’d have scars. but seeing them, confirming the pain you know joel’s mind is hiding, it makes your heart ache. you trace a finger along the scars softly, watching the muscles in joel’s back ripple as he flinches under your touch. 

“is this okay?” you ask, stilling your movements. joel looks at you over his shoulder and nods. with his approval, you continue tracing the painful lines on his body, wondering which one hurt the most. 

you turn joel around, washing his soft sculpted chest and arms gently. as you move down his body, you try your best to not to stare at his more intimate areas but it’s difficult– especially when joel doesn’t seem to mind.

“would you like to do your…private parts?” you cringe just asking the question, “i don’t know if you’re comfortable with me cleaning around there.” joel tilts his head and you point to his cock and ass. he frowns at you, gesturing with his head to his crotch as to say you can do it.

“are you sure?” you ask, slowly bringing the flannel to his crotch. he nods, a lot more unphased by his nudity than you. you gently wash around his crotch before taking his cock in your hand. it’s heavy, even though he’s soft, and you can feel it twitch under your ministrations. you know to wash your penis correctly you have to clean under the foreskin, and he probably hasn’t done that for decades, but you think this time round that’ll be too far. so you elect to ignore it, moving his balls and then to his ass. 

“i’ll be right back, joel,” you mutter, dropping the flannel in the tub, “rinse yourself and drain the bath.” after being that close to him, touching his entire body even if it was through the boundary of a flannel, you have to step out for a minute.

you head to the kitchen and pull out a cold beer. the coolness of it helps to calm the heat of the stuffy bathroom and the tension that joel seemed all but oblivious to. 

once you’ve composed yourself, and finished the beer, you return to joel. he’s sitting there naked in the empty bath. 

“it’s time to wash your hair,” you smile, grabbing the shower head off its hook, “i’m gonna have to use the shower for this, so try not to freak out. it’ll only be to wet your hair and then rinse it, okay?” joel nods but you can see his body curl in on itself as he waits for you to turn it on. as the water flows out, joel flinches back with a wary eye on the fast running water. it’s noisier than the bath tap but it’s equally as harmless, joel decides. he shuffles closer, bowing his head to let you wet it. you make quick work of wetting it and turning the shower off again.

“you’re doing great, buddy,” you smile, squirting shampoo into your palm, “i’m gonna put shampoo in now. it’ll get all that dirt out.” you smear some of it on your other hand and start to move them through joel’s hair. as you feel the dirt and grime coming away from his scalp, you can also hear a soft hum from joel’s throat. his eyes are squeezed shut and he has a small smile on his lips as you massage and clean hair and beard. you wash the shampoo out and repeat the process with conditioner.

“look at you,” you smile, standing up to admire a now clean joel, “you look like a wet cat but a very clean one at that.” joel frowns, sticking his lip out in a pout. 

“hey, i wasn’t the one purring like a little kitten getting belly rubs just before. you act rough but you’re just a little kitten, aren’t ya?” joel snarls at you and you put your hands up, backing away. “i’m sorry,” you chuckle, “i’ll stop. you get dressed and i’ll make you some of those canned beans.” he rolls his eyes at your grinning face, but he can’t help but smile a little too. it’s been so long since he’s had a sense of domesticity. his mind has been craving it, even if he never knew it.

you leave joel to get changed and head into the kitchen. you crack open a can of beans and dump them in a pot, chucking it on the stove. grabbing another beer from the fridge, you lean against the kitchen counter. as you take swigs of it, you hear the soft pad of footsteps and the rustle of clothes. a clink of a belt is heard and then joel pops out of the bathroom. he looks frankly adorable in the clean new clothes you got him and with his hair all damp and slicked back. 

he sits down on the couch to pull his sock and boots on. as he does he grunts at the beer in your hand. 

“this?” you ask, shaking the beer slightly, “it’s beer.” finishing fixing his boots to his feet, joel crawls over to you. he sits at your feet and reaches up for the bottle.

“no way,” you tut, pulling it away from him, “i’m not having you getting drunk. no offence, buddy, but a drunk six foot tall wild cat is not what i need running around my apartment, let alone the qz.” joel snarls at you again, baring his teeth.

“is it the cat thing again?” you ask. he shakes his head. “oh, so, you’re just being a little brat are you?” he scowls and lunges for the beer again. 

“joel! jesus christ,” you mutter, pulling back and placing the beer back in the fridge. joel is sitting in front of you still, a frowning pout on his face. you crouch down to his level, placing a hand on his knee. “what’s wrong, buddy? you don’t have to lash out. talk to me. i’ll get a pen and paper if you need it.” 

he hangs his head, shaking it before lunging forwards. he falls on top of you, squishing you as he presses all his weight down, just like he did back in the forest. you wheeze a little, feeling the weight of joel bearing down on you, but you let him stay there, moving your hands to his back. 

the pair of you lay there for a moment in the soft silence of this strange but heartfelt embrace. you run your hands along his back and then up into his hair, gently scratching his scalp and behind his ears. 

“you wanna talk about it?” you whisper, holding him closer. he shrugs. “do you know what’s wrong?” he shakes his head. “i see. it’s okay, i got you.” 

the forgotten beans on the stove start to boil, bringing them to your attention once again. 

“shit,” you mutter, “joel, i gotta check on the beans. let me up, buddy.” joel groans but rolls off you. you flick the stove off and give the beans a stir. “they seem alright. want some?” 

joel nods and you serve you both up a bowl. you place them on the table and sit down. joel doesn’t move from his spot on the ground. 

“you gonna sit up here with me?” you ask, patting the chair next to you. he tilts his head and crawls over to the chair. he sniffs it and feels it out before crawling up onto it. he keeps his legs up to his chest, leaning forwards to sniff the beans. you chuckle as he scrunches his nose. 

“yeah, they aren’t as good as those nice cuts of meat you get out in the forest,” you smile, digging into the beans, “but it’s some of the best shit out here.” joel lets out a small laugh before bringing his hand up to scoop up the beans. you realise you’re gonna have to tell him to use a spoon eventually but you let him simply enjoy his meal.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

“alright, buddy,” you clap your hands together softly, turning away from the kitchen sink, now full of your dishes, “there’s a doctor’s office not too far from here. you wanna go get a check up? make sure everything’s alright?” joel grumbles, shaking his head. “you worried about the noise?” he nods. 

“it’s not too far from here so you won’t have to put up with it for long, okay?” joel frowns. “i can find you some headphones when we go out.” he scrunches his nose up but stands up, giving you a nod. you smile, walking up to joel and cupping his cheeks. 

“i know this is hard for you,” you say, gently rubbing his bearded cheeks, “but you can trust me. i won’t let anything happen to you.” joel purrs, leaning into your hands. you smile, giving him a scratch under his chin. you grab your bag and nod at the door. “let’s go.”

joel follows you out the apartment, hanging close behind you. as you descend the stairs, getting closer to the noise of the street, you can feel joel’s anxious twitches against your back. you turn around to take joel’s hand, catching the eye of one of your neighbours leaving his apartment for his shift. before you have time to recognise which neighbour it is, you see his face twist into a scowl.

“hey!” he yells, storming down the stairs, causing joel to jump, “is that my fucking shirt? you little shit!” you don’t have to tell joel to run, he’s already pulling you down the stairs at a speed you can barely keep up with. you stumble over your feet as joel pulls you into the street, your furious neighbour close behind. 

the chase is a blur, all you can see and hear clearly is the back of joel’s head and the screams of your neighbour. any attempt at civility is gone from joel’s mind with him bowling people out of the way with zero regard as he navigates the busy streets. 

you snap yourself out of the shock of the moment and realise joel is taking you both to the checkpoint of the qz. if you two burst through there, you’ll certainly be shot. with all your strength, you tug joel in the direction of the hole in the wall you use. he looks at you, eyes wide with concern. you haven’t seen someone look at you with such a concern for your welfare, honestly, ever. and it’d be sweet if you weren’t running from your neighbour right now.

“through here,” you yell, pulling joel to through the crack. you slip through easily but joel’s broad frame has more trouble. you watch through the crack as your neighbour catches up. joel looks at you for a second before turning his back to you and blocking out the crack and your view of what's happening behind the wall. 

for a moment, you stand there, chest heaving and mind terrified as you hear your neighbour yell at joel. you hear joel’s snarl, a sickening crunch, and then silence. when joel’s back doesn’t move from the crack you feel your stomach leap into your throat.

“joel!” you scream, running to the wall, grabbing at joel’s shirt, “joel!” your voice is hoarse and tears are welling in your eyes. you can’t be the reason he dies. after all this time surviving on his own, you can’t be the cause of his death. 

your hand is pulled forwards as joel finally turns around. he whimpers seeing the terror in your eyes. he brings his hands up to wipe your tears and you notice the blood splattered on his knuckles. 

“joel…” you whisper, taking his bloodied hand in yours. before you can ask him what happened he shakes his head, pushing you back so he can squeeze through the gap. once he slips through the crack, you get a glimpse of the scene on the other side. your neighbour is lying, motionless on the street, his nose bleeding and face marred with blood.

“joel! wh-” joel slaps a hand over your mouth and shakes his head again. his expression is firm but his eyes are screaming for your forgiveness. he doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s pulling you in the direction of the forest. 

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

the trek through the forest is deafeningly silent. you stare at the ground, following joel’s heels. the image of your neighbour bleeding out on the street is seared into your mind. you didn’t mean for him to get hurt, you were just trying to help joel. 

once you reach joel’s home, you slump down on one of the logs, too out of it to do anything but sit in silence. joel trails off to wash his hand in a nearby stream. when he returns he crouches down in front of you. he lifts your head, holding it gently in his broad calloused hands, to meet his eyes. he doesn’t need to say anything, even if he could, his eyes telling you how sorry he is. 

“it’s… it’s okay,” you sigh, your voice weak, “what you did… that was wrong. but i get why you did it. i don’t blame you.” joel presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, simply appreciating your forgiveness. 

“and i’m sorry,” you whisper, placing your hands on joel’s shoulders, “i should’ve taken you to the qz, especially in stolen clothes. it was my fault you had to do that.” joel whines, shaking his head and pulling you into his arms. 

he holds the back of your head with one hand, the other snaking round to hold your waist. he starts to rock you in his arms. he’s not sure why. feelings of love and warmth come back to him, memories in feelings alone, before the grief his mind has been running from hits him like a truck. he holds you impossibly tight, his mind resorting back to the trauma that put him in this state. as much as he wishes he knew what happened, he can’t conjure more than the gut wrenching feeling of loss. maybe it’s better he doesn’t remember.

the embrace is short lived as joel’s head snaps around. his ears perk up and he immediately carries you inside his hut. he shakes his head at you and then disappears, unsheathing his knife from his hip as he does. it’s obvious joel wants you to stay put and silent, but there’s no way you’re leaving him alone. 

you pop your head out of the hut to see joel crouched behind a bush and a group of four men carrying guns, raiders, enclosing in on him. guilt hits you again when you realise they must have followed you two from the qz. as one of the raiders gets closer to joel, you panic.

“joel! look out!” you yell, the raider’s attention turning to you. joel snaps his head round to you, scowl on his face. his look says it all; you fucking idiot. 

before the raider can take his shot at you, joel growls, distracting the man and lunging at him, slitting the man’s throat cleanly with one slice. as the man drops, joel throws his gun to you and turns to a raider sneaking up behind him. 

you scramble to grab the gun, clutching it to your chest as you back up against the hut. as you tremble, too terrified to move, you see joel disarm and snap the neck of another raider as he fights off one from behind. a bullet nicks his arms and he roars in pain. but it only seems to emboldened him, with him charging at the man behind him, stabbing him square in the throat, wrenching the knife to the side. 

too transfixed on the spurt of blood pouring from the raider’s neck, you fail to notice a dog run at you from the side. the dog growls and lunges at you, sinking its teeth into your arm. you scream out in pain as the dog’s teeth sink deeper into your arm, slicing through all your layers of skin and puncturing muscle. 

joel’s attention is immediately gone from the remaining raider, bounding over to you. without a second thought, joel plunges his knife into the neck of the dog, the animal’s jaw going slack around your arm. joel rips the gun out of your hand and stands, aiming it at the raider’s head. he lets out a guttural roar, giving the man a second to speak. as the the man pulls his gun on him, joel finger twitches and he shoots the man clean through the stomach. he throws the gun away and jumps on top of the man pinning him to the ground, spitting in his face as he growls again.

despite the pain in your arm and the horrific sight of the limp dog beside you, you stand on shaky legs and stumble over to joel and the raider.

“he wants you to explain yourself,” you wince, cradling your bleeding arm, “why are you here? how did you get a dog?” joel scowls at you but doesn’t stop you. 

“oh, so you speak feral fucking man?” the raider laughs, his voice humourless and gargled from the blood filling his lungs. 

“answer the fucking questions,” you snap. the raider groans and joel shakes him, smacking his head against the ground.

“fine!” the man yells, wincing, “we saw you leaving the qz.” joel snarls at you this time, a look of betrayal in his eyes. “and we got a dog from jackson. happy?”

“where the fuck is jackson?” the raider rolls his eyes but answers when joel growls at him.

“it’s in wyoming! okay?” he groans, “now can you just fucking kill me?”

“how do they have dogs?” 

“i don’t fucking know– ah!” joel shoves a finger into the man’s bullet wound. “they’re a massive settlement in wyoming. i think an ex-firefly set it up.” you nod.

“thanks.” the raider goes to make another snide comment but joel beats him to it, snapping the man’s neck. 

you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sound of joel’s and your own breathing. this can’t be real. you’ve only been venturing out of the qz for 4 days and you’ve already seen more violence than you have in your entire life. at the hands of joel. you knew this man wasn’t a gentle giant or anything, he’s survived in the wild by being ruthless, not kind. but seeing it first hand is sickening. 

after a few silent moments, you feel joel’s hands hold your shoulders, guiding you back into the hut. only once you’re back in there do you open your eyes. your arm is soaked in blood and there’s more covering joel’s upper body. you had washed him clean not an hour or more ago, only to have that effort ruined in a quick few minutes. 

joel rummages around in the bag you brought, finding spare medical supplies and a water bottle you had packed. he pours water over your arm and wraps it up tight in a gauze bandage. he ties it off and then does the same to the wound on his arm. 

you sit, even more dissociated than before, on the blanket in the hut. you can’t go back to the qz. you’ve stolen from your neighbours and one of them is severely injured, if not dead because of that. and you led raiders to joel’s sanctuary in the forest that ended in their deaths and the death of an innocent animal. 

you look up from your daze of self loathing and shock to see joel clumsily writing on the notepad from your bag. 

“betrayed me,” it says when he holds it up for you. 

“i know, joel,” you croak, tears filling your eyes once again, “i fucked up. i should’ve never come out here. i should’ve left you the fuck alone, like you wanted. i know, okay? you don’t have to rub it in. i can leave, for good, if that’s what you want.” joel waits a beat, his heart aching as your tears fall. he considers telling you to leave. 

“no,” he writes, “you need me.”

“i need you?” you ask, frowning, “the hell does that mean?”

“alone,” he points at you, “injured.” 

“but i betrayed you,” you cry, “i’m the reason your home was attacked and you had to kill those men– and that dog.” the image of the dog’s dead body flashes in your mind and a horrible sob is ripped from your throat. joel immediately takes you in his arms pulling you close to his chest. he shakes his head, rubbing your back. 

when you calm you down, your sobs easing out to small sniffles, joel pulls back and writes again.

“you forgive me. i forgive you.” his eyes are soft, begging you to understand him. with a shaky breath, you nod. 

“we should go to jackson,” you say. joel frowns, tilting his head in confusion. “it sounds like they have a lot of resources. i need a new home, you deserve a new home, and you deserve help. maybe they could help us.”

“help me?” joel writes.

“yeah,” you smile weakly, “maybe someone could help you get your memories and your speech back. would you like that?” joel shrugs. he’s spent so long living like this, the idea of change is terrifying. especially the prospect of uncovering his memories. he fears that they’re locked away for good reason. he doesn’t want to know what made him this why. but when he looks at the hope in your eyes, the care you still have for him after everything you’ve seen him do, it gives him a reason, for the first time in decades, to try and get better. 

joel sighs before nodding. he crawls over to the blanket, trying not to put too much pressure on his sore arm. he takes you gently in his arms, holding you close as he covers you with his body again. 

you wrap your arms around joel’s neck, pulling his head into your neck as you run your fingers up his scalp. joel presses a kiss to your neck, nuzzling his nose under your chin. 

“joel,” you whimper, feeling his crotch press against your own, “joel– stop.” he freezes, pulling back with a hurt look in his eyes. “let’s just lay here, okay? i can’t… not now.” joel nods, snuggling back down on top of you, being careful of your arm. 

his mind is all over the place, as is yours. both of you are in over your heads in uncharted territory in the attempt to try and stay together. maybe jackson will be the bastion that reconciles the distance between you. or the place that shows you that loneliness is the only thing binding you two together.

[firstelevens]

in light of the thunderbolts pcs, angry kisses for sambucky pls

My brain is apparently so DnD-pilled that I stared at this for ten minutes trying to figure out what a thunderbolts player character was supposed to be before realizing you probably meant "post-credits scene." I have not in fact seen the film, but I have long since made peace with ignoring the proverbial Council's stupid-ass decisions and I will continue to do so. Here's a sequel to this fic, sorry if you were hoping for something more tied to canon!

56. angry kisses

The thing about Sam's relentless goddamn professionalism is that he has to find ways of clinging to it even when it's the very last thing that he wants to do. He's exceptionally good at it by now, years of facing off against scheming politicians and soliloquizing villains honing a skill that he'd already cultivated as a teenager. It's seamless enough that most people don't even realize when it's happening.

Maybe that's what makes it so fucking infuriating when he watches Bucky cross the room to have a few quiet words with Joaquín, who stands up a minute later and says something about having some food while everyone waits to debrief with the authorities. Like magic, the rest of Team Cap and all but one of the stupidly-named Thunderbolts file out to take the elevator to the Compound's kitchen.

Sam waits for the distant ding of the elevator to sound before he turns to Bucky, struggling to keep his voice even. "You giving orders to my team now?"

Bucky scoffs. "Please. Torres would never listen to an order from me."

"Yeah, the way I hear it, there's a lot of that going around these days."

"Is there?" asks Bucky, in the blank voice that he only ever uses when he's trying to provoke Sam. In a few strides, he crosses the room to stand in front of Sam, close but not quite in his space. "Seems to me like it's just you."

"I've never taken orders from you," snaps Sam. "And I'm not about to start."

"No one's telling you to," says Bucky. "But it used to be that when we were in the field together, you'd at least listen to what I had to say."

Sam crosses his arms, scowling. He can feel those threads of professionalism slipping away, and he tries his best to snatch at them. "If you want to start a conversation about who was listening to who, we can do that, but I don't think you're gonna like where it ends up, so maybe we should stop right here."

"Don't try to make this about me not sticking to protocol when we're talking about you putting your life on the line," Bucky says. "And Christ, stop using your press conference voice on me. If you're angry, just be angry."

He clenches his jaw because he can't clench his fist, keeps his tone as measured as he can. "You know I don't do that."

"You don't do that in front of strangers," snaps Bucky. "Whatever we are or aren't to each other anymore, I know for damn sure we aren't strangers."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" Sam asks quietly. "You want me to tell you how tired I am? How much I dreaded coming here and having to work with a team that was built to spite me? How much bullshit gets thrown my way every day, how much easier that would be to handle if I still had a partner at my side?"

"I want you to say what you actually want to say," says Bucky, and there's something pleading in his face. "Whatever it is that you want to say. Be tired, be worried, be furious at me. Just don't be...that. That persona that you had to build just so you could get a foot in the fucking door. Not in front of me."

There was a time when Sam didn't have to be that, not with Bucky. There was a time when he could be that version of himself with the rest of the world and then come home, tuck his face against Bucky's chest and let himself be held as he raged at the whole rest of the world. Even now, Sam's hands itch to reach out to him, to pull him close so Sam can rest his aching head in the crook of Bucky's neck.

Sam keeps his voice even and pretends he doesn't see the hurt in Bucky's face, focusing his gaze on the windows behind him. "You tried to die today," he says, and feels the anger spike in his chest even as he says the words. "You told me to trust you and then you tried to put yourself in the path of something that would have killed you."

"It would have killed you," corrects Bucky, and Sam is torn between wanting to cry and wanting to punch him in the face. "It might have killed me. I was better equipped to handle it."

"It wasn't your call to make," Sam says, instead of don't you know that that would've killed me, too? "I had a plan. I always do."

"And that plan was what? You dying instead of me?"

"That plan was to make things safe for everyone else."

Bucky steps into Sam's space, his chest brushing against Sam's crossed arms. Sam tries not to notice that, either. "And you really think that a safer world exists without you in it? You really believe that any good would come of that?"

"Nobody makes sacrifices because they're easy, Bucky," Sam bites out. "People make them because it's the only way."

"Good," says Bucky. "Then you understand why I did what I did."

"I'll never understand anything you do, Barnes. I'll never understand why you're here, and I'll never understand why you work for the people you work for, and I'll never understand why you-" Sam cuts himself off, trying to calm his breathing. "Never mind."

"No, say it," says Bucky, right up in Sam's face now. "Say whatever it is. I'm tired of Customer Service Cap. Say what you need to say."

Sam sets his jaw. "Why? What do you need to hear so bad, huh? What's gonna change if I say it to you?"

"Hell if I know," says Bucky, "but whatever changes, it can't make things worse than they are right now, can it? You won't even fucking look at me, Sam."

"What do you need me to look at you for, huh? You have a whole team for that now, right? News cameras, too?"

"I have a team now because you sent me away, Sam. You ended things and you all but kicked me off the team. What was I supposed to do, fuck back off to the forties like Steve?"

"You were supposed to be safe," roars Sam, before he can think better of it, and the rest comes spilling out like water behind a broken dam. "They wanted to use you for wetwork and infiltration. They made a whole entire proposal about it. The Joint Chiefs approved it and everything. It was going to be a condition of you staying on the team, of them upholding the terms of your pardon."

Bucky's eyebrows knit together. "Sam..."

"They wanted to use you, and I sent you away to stop them, and you just ended up working for them anyway," says Sam, softer, and he can feel his face flushing, can feel the tears gathering behind his eyes. "So now you're gone and you're not safe."

Their time apart hasn't changed how clearly Sam can read Bucky's face, and he sees a flurry of emotions pass over him before his jaw takes on a determined set. "That wasn't your call to make," growls Bucky.

Before Sam can argue it, Bucky's hands come up to hold his face, palms against Sam's jaw while his thumbs wipe away the tears that Sam hadn't noticed escaping.

Half a second later, Bucky's lips are on his, bruising and desperate, and Sam can't help but reciprocate, uncrossing his arms so he can clutch Bucky closer, backing up until they ram into a wall, picture frames rattling precariously from the impact. He fists one hand in Bucky's shirt to keep him from going too far and slips the other underneath, trailing up his stomach until it reaches the center of his chest. Bucky's heartbeat thuds away under Sam's palm, familiar if a little faster than usual, and Sam feels the universe right itself where it had been knocked off of its axis.

He doesn't know what tomorrow looks like, or even three minutes from now, but he knows that he has Bucky in his arms again, both their hearts beating steady in their chests, and that's as good a place as any to start.

[uncannydevotion]

“ a day to remember. ”

a/n: my bday is on the 14th this month so here's a lil gift to. myself. i guess. it's gonna be very self-indulgent nd will include some of my faves so!! enjoy it. anyways i dont think dr smiley has a canon name tmk so ive named him damien bc u cannot pay me to refer to him as smiley bc it'll make me think of that rlly bad movie w shane dawson

synopsis: celebrating your special day with the person you love most.

includes: homicidal liu + sully, nina the killer, dr smiley, zero, the bloody painter, zalgo.

warnings: gn reader, incredibly self-indulgent, pet names used: angel (liu), baby (nina), beloved (dr smiley), sun (zalgo). varying lengths, short and sweet, a bunch of fluff, brief bits of angst, mentions of religion, cults, mentions of murder and human sacrifice, implied stockholm syndrome for both damien and zero, reader gets gifted a heart by damien. literally. reader has some pretty skewed morals in his part too, tbf.

HOMICIDAL LIU + SULLY

The moment these two enter your life, your birthday becomes a two-day event because they both wanna spend the whole day with you. So... congrats!!

Honestly, if they had any say in the matter, they'd give you a grand celebration every year but... they can't, obviously. Still, they both try to make your birthday something worth remembering, though they have vastly different approaches.

Liu celebrates your birthday the way his parents had celebrated his and Jeff's birthday when they were kids.

A nice homecooked meal of your favorite food, as well as some small neatly wrapped gifts of things he knew you were interested in. Don't ask him where he got the money for these gifts, because he really doesn't know. Sully refuses to explain, so he's just as lost as you.

Along with that, he treats you to a spa day. Absolutely nothing will stress you out on your special day. Anything that is causing you stress is to be ignored, because he's taking your phone away from you and already applying a facemask on you before you can protest.

He tops it all off with a nice massage, and the two of you end up falling asleep in each other's arms while watching one of your favorite movies.

"Happy birthday, angel," Liu will softly whisper once you're asleep, bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss against it before falling asleep himself.

And when you wake up, Sully was making you a birthday breakfast. He wouldn't let you help at all, insisting you sit down and watch the morning news or something while he cooks. He will bite you if you try helping.

Once breakfast was done, he sent you off to prepare for the day while he washed the dishes. Househusband material, dare I say.

Anyways, the way Sully celebrates your birthday after breakfast is a spontaneous road trip. No, he's not telling you where he got this car. Yes, he knows how to drive. Just trust him, okay?

Since he doubts Liu would actually let him take you on a full-fledged road trip across the country, Sully settles on taking you to nearby places that remind him of you.

It, after breaking a few traffic laws that makes you wonder how the fuck you guys didn't get pulled over, eventually leads to the two of you being parked on a cliff somewhere. The sun was setting, and it was a beautiful scene to witness. Even more so when the stars start to light up the sky.

Sully was absently tracing shapes on the palm of your hand as you pointed out the constellations you could see, as well as other random shapes the stars seemed to make. He couldn't care less about the stars in the sky; his gaze only focused on you and the soft happiness in your features.

He'd always thought birthdays were a strange thing to celebrate, but he'd gladly celebrate your birthday until the heat death of the universe if it meant being able to see you smile like this again.

NINA THE KILLER

If you're comfortable with big parties, then trust that Nina is organizing a birthday bash for you. She will force the others to attend whether they like parties or not because this is your special day, and it needs to be perfect.

There would be party games, and she would spend weeks just planning what foods should be at the party, and what foods would be banned. Anything you don't like, or anything you're allergic to is not allowed within 200 miles of the party.

She's very serious about your birthday, more serious than you are. It might just be another day to you, but to her, it's the day the universe decided to create you. Without this single day, she never would've gotten the chance to meet you, the chance to fall in love with you.

Call her a hopeless romantic (because she is one, let's be honest) but can you really blame her? You're the most important person in her life, the only person she can truly rely on. Your birthday needs to be celebrated as such.

But...

If you'd prefer something more tame, then she'll scrap all her big party plans and aim for something smaller.

Something meant for just the two of you.

A playlist filled with songs that reminder her of you. An abundance of gifts, because no matter how small you want your birthday celebration to be, Nina just can't help but spoil you.

She'll softly hum the birthday song as she lights the single candle neatly stabbed into the cupcake that you insisted was enough, and she watches the way the flame flickers, highlighting your features beneath the soft pink LEDs in her bedroom.

"Make a wish, baby," She whispers. And you stare at her for a few moments before blowing the candle out.

After taking the candle out, she feeds the cupcake to you. Yeah, sure, she could just let you eat it. But she wanted to feed you, okay? She wants to spoil you! You deserve to be spoiled!

She'd gift you the whole fucking universe if she could, but all she can do is hold pieces of cupcake to your lips while the two of you chat about anything and everything.

Nina stays up even after you've fallen asleep, her head resting on your chest so she can listen to the steady beat of your heart. Everything is as it is meant to be.

DR SMILEY

Your birthday wasn't something you celebrated, really. Not because you didn't want to, but because nobody ever seemed to remember when it finally came around, and it always felt humiliating celebrating it alone.

After your loving, doting boyfriend snatched you up off the street one night when you were taking a short walk to clear your head, you didn't think you'd never have a birthday again.

But instead of killing you like he had originally intended on doing, he ended up... keeping you. It's a strange arrangement, and you're constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop because there's no way he actually loves you.

He never did kill you, and the months went on. Soon enough, your birthday had arrived. You hadn't expected anything. You're just lucky to be alive, really, what more could you possibly want?

Still, when you woke up on the evening of your birthday (one of the many adjustments since being kept was getting used to staying up all night), that empty feeling in your chest was difficult to ignore.

The house you were in was unfamiliar. The home of one of Damien's recent victims, probably still in their basement in multiple trash bags. You didn't really want to think about it, though. It was eerily quiet, too.

Normally, you could hear Damien doing his... surgeries, down in the basement of whatever home you ended up in. He liked hearing them scream, so he never bothered to keep them quiet. You always had to filter the noise out with loud music.

But tonight, there was nothing. Nothing, except for a note on the kitchen counter telling you to go out back. You're not sure what you were expecting to see, but you weren't expecting fairy lights to be hanging up, illuminating the backyard in an almost soft angelic glow.

The thing that caught your immediate attention was the heart-shaped box resting neatly on a small folding table. You didn't miss the blood seeping out of the box, and you had a feeling you knew what you'd find in it.

And when you did open the box, you were greeted by a heart. A human heart, presumably belonging to one of Damien's recent victims, judging from how fresh it was.

"Happy birthday, my beloved."

Damien's voice causes you to startle a bit, and you quickly turn to see him standing behind you. The surgical mask he always wore was nowhere to be seen, so you could see sharp teeth as he smiles at you.

Your silence has him cocking his head to the side a bit, like he was disappointed that you weren't giving him an immediate reaction, "Do you like the gift I got for you?"

And you... you should say no. You need to say no. In what world is a human heart something you'd want for your birthday? You don't even remember telling Damien when your birthday was, so you're not sure how he knew.

But... the time you've spent with the man must've fucked you up, because you found yourself tearing up as you choked out a quiet, "Yeah, I do."

And Damien's expression a teetering between amused and confused as you pulled him into a hug, burying your face in his shoulder to hide your tears. It's not the first time he's seen you cry, but it's definitely the first time it hasn't been from fear.

Truth be told, he had pulled this little stunt because he wanted to scare you. He didn't think you'd actually like it. Though... he finds himself enjoying this turn of events, returning your hug in a way that was just a bit too tight.

Maybe he'll get you a real gift, one you can actually keep. You have been behaving recently, after all.

ZERO

Zero absolutely fucking hates birthdays. Everyone is always so cheerful, and she just didn't understand why it was such a big deal. Why would she want to celebrate something that happens every single day?

But there's this nagging feeling in her chest when she sees you getting a gift from one of your friends (that she had begrudgingly let you keep because you begged nicely). There's this smile on your face, one that she's never seen directed towards her.

She wants it.

That's how you end up seated in your living room with a bunch of poorly wrapped gifts sitting on the coffee table with Zero sitting comfortably on the ground, her gaze glued to you.

"Open them."

You blink, looking between your girlfriend (captor? the lines have blurred a long time ago) and the gifts that she most definitely stole from the people she's killed. There's this hesitation in your movements as you grab the first gift.

The first gift was a necklace carelessly tossed in a small box. It would've been a nice gift, if it weren't for the fact that the initials engraved on it weren't yours.

Zero watches quietly as you open every single gift, taking in your every little reaction. The slight frown on your face, the way you'd shy away from something stained with blood. It was frustrating.

You're not reacting the way you're supposed to react. Why aren't you smiling? You weren't even giving her one of those fake smiles you always had whenever she was around.

You looked at the gifts she'd gotten for you like you were already thinking of how to get rid of them when she wasn't around. The thought had her frowning, her hand twitching just a bit towards her mallet resting on the ground next to her.

Maybe she should just ki-

The sound of your soft gasp as her train of thought cutting off, and she focuses back on you to see you carefully picking up this stuffed shark she had haphazardly wrapped. She doesn't even remember where she had gotten it, to be honest.

But you were holding it like it was something precious, and her brows furrow a bit when you finally look over to her, "I love it."

And there it was.

The smile she wanted. Soft, small, and genuine. It has her chest aching, and she can only stare at you as you look back at the small stuffed shark like it was the greatest thing you'd ever been given.

"Yeah. Happy birthday, or whatever," She grumbles, hating the way her face felt hot as she looks away from you.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

Birthdays aren't something Helen celebrates. When he was younger, his parents only ever got him a small cake and a gift if they thought he deserved it. Most of the time, they didn't, so he never celebrated his birthday. It's been that way long after he grew up.

Before you two started to date, Helen hadn't celebrated your birthday. When the day came around, he just treated it like any other day. Other people wished you a happy birthday, so why would you want him to celebrate it as well?

But he saw how sad you seemed to be, even after getting so many wishes and small gifts from your other friends. He didn't really understand why you were sad.

It isn't until you two start dating, and your birthday comes around again, that he finds himself staring down at the painting he spent a full month working on. It's displayed neatly on the couch in your living room.

Your friends had taken you out for a birthday dinner, so Helen had taken the chance to break into your home (it's for a romantic cause, he rationalizes), and he honestly felt like a fool.

A painting depicting your beauty, conveying his love in the only way he knew how, along with a small cake sitting on the kitchen counter that he spent weeks teaching himself how to bake, and it just didn't feel like enough.

But it was too late to redo anything, and even if he wanted to, you were opening the front door before he could even consider it, a look of shock on your face to see him standing in your living room.

"I thought you were too busy to see me today," You said as you stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind you. Helen had called you earlier that morning to tell you that. It had bummed you out, knowing you wouldn't be able to celebrate your birthday with your boyfriend, but here he was.

Helen makes a vague sound, not really bothering to explain the lengths he'd gone through to surprise you like this. It's the most effort he's put into anything other than his art, and it feels like a confession of love. Maybe because it is, in some aspects.

He watches your gaze flicker to the painting on the couch. The painting depicted you. A photo of you, actually. One he'd taken last year, on his birthday, with the camera you had given him.

You bought it for him so he could take reference photos for his art, and the smile you had on your face and the light in your eyes when you explained to him how it worked had him snapping a picture without even realizing it.

He had taken that photo and turned it into a masterpiece on canvas. Colors swirled around you, colors he saw every time he looked at you. Colors that represented happiness, peace, and love. Things he only ever felt whenever you were around.

He watches the way your eyes widen a fraction. The way your lips part and the way you look back at him like you can't believe he'd do something like this.

"What...?" You're at a loss for words, and Helen has to suppress a smile.

"...Happy birthday." He murmurs, reaching out to grab your wrist as he tugs you to the kitchen so you two can eat the cake he made.

A happy birthday, indeed.

ZALGO

Birthdays are meaningless to a creature like Zalgo.

He's been around longer than the birth of stars, assumedly, and he's watched many things die in his existence. Most of which have been by his own hand, for his own entertainment, but I digress.

All that to say, he doesn't even know your birthday until members of his numerous cults approach him one day to ask what they should do in celebration of your birth. Normally, he wouldn't entertain such questions, but...

You're a special human.

You've managed to capture the... well, he doesn't know how many hearts he has, truth be told...

But you've captured all of them, and birthdays seem to be treated as big deals by humans, so perhaps he could use this as a way to make you further aware of his devotion to you.

Now, it might be obvious already, but Zalgo has no idea how humans celebrate birthdays. He doesn't care enough to pay attention to what the members of his cult do if it doesn't benefit him in some way, so he's never picked up on any of their traditions.

"Well, some people like having a sweet treat on their birthdays," You had told him when he questioned you on the topic, "And some like getting gifts."

The vessel your eldritch boyfriend was possessing frowns, "And what is it that you like, my sun?"

It's a simple question. He expected a simple answer in response. Instead, he gets a sheepish smile and a slight shrug, "I've never celebrated my birthday, so I don't know."

And that's... that's not right. Not at all.

You are a treasure. Someone to be worshipped, far more divine than any of the gods mortals believe exist. How has nobody celebrated the day you came into this cursed world?

Well, lucky for you, Zalgo has far too many cults to keep track of, and your birthday becomes a sacred holiday in all of them. Those who don't celebrate will be sacrificed, and should you dislike any of the gifts given to you, there will be more sacrifices.

[demogus2023]

Sonic things that are "technically" canon or not canon that me go bfffftttldjkfslkfj."

Team Dark are not friends:

Bro what the hell. Shadow lost his sister already, don't take away his friendships either.

In Shadow Generations both Rouge and Omega are worried about Shadow thought the events of the game. FUCKIN coworkers don't talk to each other like that

2. There no currency in sonic. Money isn't a thing.

This is a newer retcon which I really hate. I don't even need to explain why this is stupid. Team Chaotix whole motivation is usually money.

3. Humans and Mobians live on different sides of the world

This one doesn't really bother me as much and it does line up with Sonic Unleashed on why you only see humans but its still dumb. Think about how cool it would be to see Mobian and humans interacting again. Mobian G.U.N soldier fighting The Black Arms and Humans joining the Resistance to defend the peace from Eggman. Speaking of Mobians....

4. Sonic and co are not called Mobians.

WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSE TO CALL THEM, THE SONIC RACE? I know it was an Archie thing, they where call that because the planet they on is called Mobius. The game universe just called it Earth which is fine, but at least give me a name to called the race plz.

5. Whisper and Tangle are not a lesbian couple

I know that a lot of IDW staff does consider them as a couple, off the record. They can't state that they are a couple because SEGA so technically they are just "really good friends."

but bro...

THE LITERALLY LESBIAN FLAG IS BEHIND THEM

[mr-crawlings-wife]

BUTTING HEADS

Prologue-8

Previous part, Masterlist, Next part

Warnings: arson, magic, canon chaos

"Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel."

I'm surprised mildly at Ace's change of demeanor.

So he just wanted to have fun huh...

Grim was equally as shocked as me. "Myah?!"

"Pfft... Ah ha ha! I can't hold it back anymore! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Come on, you're the ones who turned orientation into such a fiasco, right? The one summoned by the Dark Mirror who can't even use magic, and the monster no one summoned at all. It took everything I had not to burst into laughter right in the middle of the ceremony!" He was clearly having a field day. Like this was the most fun he'd had in a while. Like he was choking on his breath, trying to keep his cackles contained.

I'm not hurt or embarrassed, more so disappointed. I thought there would be at least some people who are kind to others beyond status.

Guess not.

Grim was visibly embarrassed but trying to remain civil, which is surprising for him "H-hey! You don't gotta be a jerk about it!"

"So in the end, neither of you got admitted, and now you're janitors? Ah ha ha! SO lame!" Ace clutches his stomach, pointing at the both of us. I only side eye him before focusing back onto Hades's statue. I need to get moving. To my side, the air surrounding Grim is starting to warm up.

'What did you just call me?!" It seems Grim's patience didn't last long. He stomps his paws grumpily.

"And you're so clueless you don't even know who the Great Seven are. Not one of them! Maybe before you try getting into the academy again, you ought to take a second crack at kindergarten? Ah ha ha ha ha!" Ace continues to crackle on like a broken record as I attempt to find a way to climb onto the pedestal. I pay him no mind, not daring to ask him for help either.

"Grrrrr..." I hear a faint growl from behind.

Is that Grim?

Something is burning.

"Anyway, just thought I'd tease you a bit. And man am I glad I did. It's been a blast!" Ace casually goes back to normal, as if making fun of strangers and poking fun was a norm for him. Maybe it is? Maybe he's just rude?

“Unlike you, I actually have classes to get to, so I'll let you get back to picking up trash. Bye!" Ace says from behind and I can hear his footsteps slowly moving away from me, just then-

"Myuh-uh! You ain't walkin' away from me! It's too late for that! Myaaaaah!" Grim blocks his way, I have to crane my neck to see them properly.

Ace hurriedly dodges a fire ball shot by Grim, surprise and panic written all over his face. He clearly didn't expect Grim to take it so personally.

"No one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire! I'm gonna make that explodey-head of yours explode all over again!" Grim declares, quite comically so.

" Explodey-head?!" Ace is offended by the nickname, now that I think about it, his hair is quite puffy.

"You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts." Ace cracks his knuckles, pulling out his magic pen. "You wanna talk hair, huh? I'm gonna shave you like a toy poodle!" A magic pen is basically like every other pen, it is a merged version of a modern ball point pen and a wand. It must be hard to write with, given that the head has such a large gemstone attached but its main benefit is immediate access to a medium and unlimited ink.

" Myaaaaah!" Grim also widens his stance, opening his mouth to its full capacity and blasting a huge fire ball at Ace.

"Oh-ho! How do you like that?" Ace smirks, cocky. He used wind magic to redirect it, allowing the fireball to hit the wall, charring it. Not that anyone would notice, given how dark the wall already is.

"H-hey! No fair!" Grim is displeased. But he has obviously met his match.

All this back and forth has attracted the attention of many students, who are beginning to form a circle.

Maybe I should intervene and stop them.

"What's going on over there? A fight?!"

"Oh, sweet! Get 'em!"

"Wind magic is a thing too? Let's all take this down a notch!" That must've been a freshman too.

Some of the thin crowb sound amazed, some excited and some hesitantly protesting.

They can't see me yet. As I am behind the statue of Hades, still holding onto one of his flames and hoping I could haul myself up somehow.

"Awww... Can't hit me with your little fireballs?" Ace mocks Grim as he dodges another fireball with ease.

"Grrr... You better believe I'm about to!"

Should stop him now...

"Grim, you should stop, he's not worth it." I try to coax him out of it.

"YOU STAY OUT OF IT!“ Grim screams, spitting another fireball at me.

Or not.

I'm about to dodge but it's blow away before it can reach me. I look at Ace, but he's got his gaze on Grim.

Was it him?

I don't bother thinking further, the crowd is getting more dense. And I don't wish to get roped up in this mess.

Without much thought, I slip away, grabbing my bucket and making my way to Ramshackle.

Taglist: @kittycat246 @wutap @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @boredselkie @krysthalina @frostines-blog @anastasia-426 @ghostlysyntaxed @neufora

[quinloki]

Hi!

Ok so i hope you don't mind me dropping this for your kinky head canons

i used the generator and well this is the result of it - tickling, sir kink & resistance play

maybe for Rayleigh, Izou & Shanks pretty please 👉👈

Oh what an interesting collection of kinks to go with a Very Nice Collection of Blorbos oh my goodness!

I love this <3

Sir Kink and Rayleigh, gods love me, seas take me, tickling and Shanks - Hnnnnnnnngh SIR KINK WITH IZOU I--

Let's shall, shall we?

Ah - Quick Pause, just in case anyone doesn't know. Sir Kink and Tickling are pretty straight forward (and you'll understand them better as you read this, if you don't already) - but Resistance Kink is specifically about, well, resisting. And Fighting back - it's not the same as CNC, in that your resistance isn't because you want them to stop, or you're trying to actually fight them off. It's the act of defiance that's the thrill of it - whether you successfully escape, or are successfully subdued is often irrelevant.

The struggle is the point. but it can be very physical, slapping, throwing punches, kicking, etc. Your level of resistance should definitely be discussed prior, because a broken nose is only sexy if your partner was prepared for the possibility ^_^;

Izou:

Resistance Play - Yes - It's not that he's against you trying to resist, but it's not high up on his personal list. He doesn't want your resistance, he wants your compliance.

Well, maybe not your physical resistance. I do think he enjoys brat taming a lot more than resistance play, but in the end he does expect/intend for you to bend to his will.

Sir Kink - Oh god you don’t even know - Izou's certainly a fan of Rules and Protocols. Very much appreciates the structure of it all, and Sir Kink is a high protocol. It's a term of respect, one he certainly earns.

Just the idea of being in suspension bondage, or shibari, his fan under your chin, holding you in a specific position, waiting quietly for you to acquiesce and call him sir. The look on his face says he knows exactly when you're going to say it, precisely when you're going to break against his will. When the brattiness takes a backseat to the grounding sensation of being in his control.

The very slight turn of his lip as "Yes, Sir." passes your sweet lips.

Tickling - Oh god you don’t even know - He's evil - EVIL - with tickling. Absolutely horrid, wretched, terrible T-T He uses his nails to tease the start of a tickle, only to stop and just like almost barely not really touch you. He'll talk to, and muse about where you might be ticklish and how much.

How you'll flinch and twist when he gets to close to certain places, the way you laugh before he's even touched you. The soft smile on his lips and the devious glint in his eyes tells you he's enjoying himself immensely. He might have you crying and screaming, but he'll have you worn out and begging for mercy even if you've really only laughed a handful of times.

Silvers Rayleigh:

Resistance Play - Oh god you don’t even know - You can't really hurt him. No one's really been able to hurt him for a LONG time. He's just too skilled at haki, frankly, and too experienced to get caught off guard, so please do resist.

Resist as much as you want, as violently as you like, he'll subdue you until you stop squirming, and then he'll let you go. You can try again, go on, he does love it when you squirm and struggle for him. One of these times when he subdues you, he'll take him prize, and you'll be squirming and writhing for completely difference reasons.

Well, you might still be resisting, but you won't be able to resist that first orgasm. And certainly not the fifth one.

Sir Kink - Oh god you don’t even know - you might as well just call him Sir from the start. You're not going to get away with much of anything else to be honest. There's only maybe two or three people that get to call him by name in the bedroom.

He'll be seemingly nonchalant about it, and he'll accept "Master" too, he thinks it's cute, but you don't need to defer to him quite so completely. Sir is respectful enough. If you learn and use your manner quick enough you might not even need to worry about being punished for any disrespect.

Tickling - FUCK Yes - You know you can lose control of your bladder from being tickled too much? You can hyperventilate and pass out too - but only if you're lucky. Otherwise you'll stay conscious and feel like you're on the verge of passing out for hours. Well, if you're lucky, or if you're being tickled by someone who can stop just before you'd pass out >.>

Certainly he can use it to build anticipation. He can use it to spice up the pleasure. He can use it to torture you for days before forcing orgasms out of you. You'll be begging to do anything for him by the end of it -especially if it's being done as a punishment.

Good luck though, there's two things Rayleigh loves to hear from his partners >.>

Shanks:

Resistance Play - Oh god you don’t even know - I mean, let's be fair, if you land a hit on Shanks it's because he let you. So please, resist to your hearts content. Scream and rage and let everything out at him, he can take it and more.

On a more playful note he's just a solid partner if you like to struggle a resist to get your blood going.

He loves it though - he loves the energy and the passion. the fight and fire. The way you can really get into sometimes, and the even more than the resistance itself, what he really likes is that moment that you give in. He would let you fight him for hours, days, if you so desired, just to watch that moment where you give in. Where you purr so sweetly for him, where you accept him, where you decide you've gotten all your resistance out of your system and it's him you accept.

He'll watch it happen a dozen times before it finally comes to pass.

Sir Kink - Yes - Sir, Master, Captain, Bastard - xD Shanks doesn't really care what you call him. He appreciates the concept of Protocols and the things that having rules and such can do to elevate a dynamic between you and him, but it's not an end all be all for him.

Admittedly he really likes to hear you say his name - on the rare occasions you're coherent enough to even say it.

Tickling - Oh god you don’t even know - Much like with Rayleigh there's two sounds Shanks really loves to hear coming from his partners. One is the sound of them orgasming because of him, the other is the sound of their laughter.

whether it's because he's told a joke, or because he's tickling them mercilessly. He's not nearly as cruel about it as Izou or Rayleigh, but he is relentless. Soft caresses that turn into unavoidable tickles, a firm grip you think is the start of a massage that turns into the kind of tickle that bubbles up as a groan.

If you give him the sweetest little "Noooooo...." he might be convinced to change tack. But you're going to have to let him hear his other favorite sound.

How May I Kink Your Head Canon?

[nick-writes-stuff]

Every Second of Every Day

Thanos / Choi Su-bong x gn!reader

summary: You break up with Thanos after a particularly messy fight, and to protect yourself, you try to cut ties completely. Of course fate would lead you both to the same death game. You both struggle with your emotions for each other and hope to repair your broken relationship. ~ 9.4k words (chat i may have gotten carried away)

warnings: drug use, descriptions of suicidal thoughts/attempts, verbal arguments, canon-typical violence

A/N: Welp. It's here. I don't know where this came from bc I thought I had no motivation to write at the moment but here this is. idk what is coming next nor when, but we'll figure it out. Also guys I am just a SUCKER for father figure!Gi-hun like it's just iconic and I definitely snuck some into the fic. hope you all enjoy!!

Part of you wished you would never see Choi Su-bong again after that night. The night that you had come back to your apartment to find him rooting through your belongings to find money to buy drugs. He claimed that you had told him he was able to use your money, that you had graciously offered to spot him the cash after he blew his savings on that crypto scam. 

The money he was referring to was all of the tips you had been saving since you started your current job. Your job didn't pay very well, and you were paying off your student loans as well. Your financial situation wasn't great, but you rarely took anything from that stash. It was meant to be a savings fund for very important things and emergencies. You had originally started it to save enough for your security deposit for the apartment, but more recently you had been budgeting the money to plan a trip for you and Su-bong for your upcoming two year anniversary.

That anniversary would never come. You've replayed that conversation in your head a million times. Was there something you could have said to make it end differently?

“Are you fucking kidding me, Su-bong? I never would have agreed to that.” You asked. Your voice was uncharacteristically calm for the situation, but there was a sharp tone behind it.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Listen, you definitely did do that. Anyway, I'll pay you back once I do that set next weekend. Were you really going to use it before then?” He asked, hardly seeming concerned by your anger. He was more focused on counting the bills.

You scoffed. “You aren't taking it. Give it to me or I'll call the cops.” You said. Thanos laughed like he genuinely found you funny. You were not amused. Your eyes narrowed at him, glaring daggers at him. 

“You're too funny.” He said after his laughter ceased. His comment sounded more like a jab than a statement.

You took a deep breath. “You know, I was going to use that money to do something for our anniversary.” You said. Your voice was strangely calm. You were restraining yourself from letting all the feelings you had bottled up over the last year. 

“Babe, I already told you. I'll pay it back next week. I don't see what the-” He said, clearly getting annoyed with you. 

Before he could put the money in his pocket you snapped, “If you take that money, we're done.” 

Thanos seemed offended. “Really, an ultimatum? That's not fair and that's toxic as fuck.” 

You chuckled bitterly. “As if this whole relationship hasn't been toxic.” You muttered under your breath. Your jaw clenched, trying to avoid breaking down. “Su-bong, I love you but I can't do this anymore. You either hand me the money right now, or you take it and never come back here or talk to me again.” You said. You couldn't handle this anymore. You didn't deserve this treatment. 

Thanos looked you over before shoving the money into his pocket. “You'll come to your senses soon enough.” He spat, shoving you out of the way and slamming your door shut behind him.

You stood there in quiet disbelief, realizing the weight of what just happened. Tears ran down your face almost involuntarily. Two years of your life and love and effort and time down the drain, but you felt some form of relief now that you had stopped it.

And you didn't let up. Within the hour you had called your landlord and asked if he had any other apartments available for rent. You had a decent rapport with him, so he was willing to work with you and draft up a lease and even cut you a deal on the rent given the situation you were in.

By the next day when Thanos had bothered to come back and try to salvage the relationship, there was no answer when he knocked. He wasn't looking to commit a crime and break in, so he left. Unbeknownst to him, you called off work and moved your belongings out yourself.

Soon after you switched your phone number. You worked with your coworkers to let you switch your shifts to times that you normally never worked. You were willing to work nights for a month or two until Thanos got the message if he decided to try and find you at work. 

Later that week when he was really strapped for cash, he returned to your apartment. When he knocked, he was greeted with some kid fresh out of college it seemed. That was when he started to realize how much he fucked up.

It started off small. He got wistful when he would send you a picture of something funny he saw at the club. He opened your messages and sent it like it was an instinct, not realizing his mistake until the red exclamation point popped up, joining the countless other undelivered messages he had tried to send.

He changed his wallpaper back to the default. He couldn't bear to see the selfie of the two of you at one of his shows mocking him every time he unlocked his phone, but he also couldn't bear to choose anything to replace it. 

At first he went on a bender, desperately trying to quiet the self-loathing and anger and despair. It didn't work for long. The thoughts were too loud. He had thought you both had a good thing going and you ended it out of nowhere.

That's what he told himself at first. He wanted to believe it was your fault. He wanted to write off the pain he was feeling but he knew deep down it was him. He fucked up. He loved you. He didn't act like it sometimes, but he did. He was blinded by his own desires and greed and it wasn't fair to you.

Nam-gyu tried to console his friend, but it was more of an attempt to get him deeper into the downward spiral he had been heading on. If Thanos had a change of heart, it could jeopardize his investment. Because that's always been the main goal of his interactions with Thanos. Sure he was fun to be around but it was mostly because he saw potential in him. 

After a particularly nasty fight with his mother about two months after you broke up, he found himself on the Han River bridge, looking over the railing where the reflections of streetlights flickered on the inky black water below.

Would you even care? If you were happy he was gone, he didn't think he would blame you. He was an asshole and he knew it. You had put up with his bullshit more than anyone else and he finally pushed you away like he had everyone. 

He hated the idea that you would give up on him, but he knew he deserved it. He didn't know what he had until you were gone. 

And he hated himself for it.

Just as he was about to slip off his shoes, he heard a voice from the darkness. “Hello, sir! Can I talk to you for a moment?” 

That man set him on this path. For better or for worse, Thanos was going to join the games and try to win as much as he could to take back with him. If he couldn't… 

Well it wouldn't be much different than if he had jumped, even if he didn't know that yet.

Maybe you would take him back if he was able to pay you back and beg for your forgiveness. He wouldn't blame you if you didn't though. 

You also found yourself in a similar financial situation. It seemed like the whole universe was against you. Your car had broken down and had an expensive issue to fix, and Thanos just drained your savings. You didn't have reliable transportation, so after a few times of the subway being late, you lost your job.

Then your mom got sick. The doctors still weren't sure what was causing her illness, but that was almost worse. All of the tests they were trying were expensive. It didn't take you long to rack up some debt.

And even if your reason for having debt was for the good of your family, that didn't save you from a visit from the salesman. The business card seemed to be made of steel. It sat in your pocket and felt like a weight dragging you down. 

After you visited your mother, the doctor stopped you on the way out. He informed you of some of her test results. The treatments would be costly.

You called the number once you got outside. 

-

It looked like you woke up in a technicolor nightmare. The lights were blinding and the colors were bright. You quickly realized someone had changed your clothes. That fact caused a pit to form in your stomach, but you tried not to dwell on it. You needed to figure out how the games would work.

You tried to stay in the back of the crowd, watching the sea of teal jumpsuits in front of you. 

Something clearly caught your attention. A man with a head of purple hair.

You felt a rush of adrenaline course through your veins. You tried to take a deep breath. It was a coincidence. It had to be. There was no way Thanos was the only person in Seoul with purple hair. 

A few minutes later, you heard someone begin to whine about his limited edition sneakers. The voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. But you denied it. Your brain was playing tricks on you.

You followed the instructions the guards gave you. You were getting a bad feeling about this. Something was off but you didn't know what it was. You just followed the group through the neon colored stairs. You smiled for the picture. You entered the game hall. 

Anxiety began to gnaw at you once the older man started shouting about how these games would go. He seemed to have experienced this before, but if that was true, why would he be helping all of you? It would make him less likely to win, right? Plus, you didn't think they would kill you. It had to be paintballs or something, just to mark that you were eliminated. You didn't know how naive your line of thinking was.

You did as he said. If it would help you win the money for your mom, why wouldn't you? You followed behind the group in front of you, hanging onto the man's words to try to calm your nerves. 

You froze the second that the first gunshot rang out.

No. No, it can't be real, right?

It only took a few more shots for you to believe it was real. You closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. Your hands began to tremble and you mentally begged for it to stop. 

You continued to follow the man's instructions now, intently listening to every word. You kept your eyes focused on the person in front of you. You didn't want to see anything.

You stayed focused until you heard a group of people scream while the light was already red. How did they manage to get caught when it had been on red for a few moments?

Your eyes shifted toward the source of the screams, not daring to turn your head at all. You wished you hadn't looked.

You saw him. Thanos. 

It had to be him. You knew because he had that stupid cross necklace around his neck. His pupils were blown wide, you could tell he was high clearly.

And he was holding his arms out into an empty space in front of him. An empty space where the dead people just were.

He didn't…

He didn't push them, right? He wouldn't have done that. 

Right?

Until you saw it again with your own eyes. He pushed more players down like it was nothing, like he wasn't killing them. You stopped looking in his direction. You were just so fucking scared right now. 

If he was gleefully killing strangers without a second thought, what would he do to you? He had to be mad at you, and now he had the perfect opportunity to kill you without any consequences.

When you crossed the finish line, you couldn't bear to turn back. You couldn't witness the carnage behind you. You stared at the wall, hands covering your ears. You took deep, shuddering breaths trying to calm down but you just couldn't. How could you? You were in an infinitely dangerous environment. You were a sitting duck here.

When you returned to the dorms, you found yourself a spot toward the back corner of the room. You sat with your back to the wall, focusing on fidgeting with the zipper of your jacket. Anything to get your mind off of him.

You told yourself you were avoiding him because you were scared he would hurt you, but you knew that wasn't true.

You missed him. You missed him so fucking much. If it seemed he had genuinely changed, you would be easy to convince. And that scared you because he could easily be lying. You hoped he wouldn't do that to you. You wanted to believe he wouldn't, but you were just scared.

You regretted breaking up with him since you did. While your relationship wasn't perfect, you still had hope that you both could really make it work. You loved him, and you know he loved you. You wanted nothing more than to be with him, and you were scared to fall right back into how you both used to be. 

That fear compounded when you noticed Nam-gyu was also here. You didn't like him. He didn't like you. You thought he was bad news, but he was also one of Thanos's closest friends. It wasn't like you were going to force them apart, but you knew a lot of Thanos's problems were made worse by Nam-gyu's influence. The drugs, the clubbing, the poor financial decisions. 

You stayed in the back of the room until they began the voting process. The whole idea of this made you nervous. The badges would be a signal to everyone else. Division would certainly follow.

You had a high number, but luckily not first. The number 448 was embroidered into the patch on your jacket. It would have stressed you out even more if you were first. When your number was called, you cautiously stepped forward. You tried to keep your hand from trembling as you reached out and pressed the red X button.

You turned around and entered the group quickly, averting your gaze so hopefully Thanos wouldn't see you. You happened to make eye contact with the player who coached you all through Red Light Green Light. He nodded at you, almost as a thank you for being rational. You gave him a slight smile before getting into the crowd. 

Things quickly turned to chaos. Player 456 claimed that he had been in the games before. This didn't give you the hope that other players seemed to get from his statement. They saw him as a success story, someone to model. You saw his presence as an omen. Winning these games didn't seem to set you up for life like they were presented.

When his number was announced, Thanos walked up to the buttons. He almost seemed to be skipping up like this was some whimsical fantasy for him. You felt a growing pit in your stomach, dreading what his decision would be. You hoped he would join you, but you knew better. Deep down you knew that he was too selfish to leave. You weren’t surprised when the higher pitched beep rang through the room. 

He turned with a grin, but any happiness drained from his face when he made eye contact with you. He froze, eyes widening.

You didn't need to say anything for him to realize that he was likely the one who caused you to be in this mess. You would have been okay financially if he hadn't taken the cash from you.

You met his eyes. Thanos had expected you to glare at him, to communicate that you wished he had died with your gaze alone. He knew he'd deserve it from you after everything he put you through.

But you didn't. You just seemed scared, and you looked away from him. You wrapped your arms around your middle, trying to soothe yourself from the stress you were under. Part of you wanted to miss him, to call out to him and feel what it felt like to be in his arms. But you knew better. He would probably just take advantage of your love for him again. It was hard for you to stomach the fact you still loved him after all of this.

Player 456 seemed to notice your distress, but he didn't seem to connect it to Thanos specifically. Not yet at least. He nudged your arm gently. “You okay?” He asked softly, voice just loud enough so you could hear him despite the crowd. 

You flinched from his touch, just not expecting it at that moment. You looked over at him and quickly averted your gaze, nodding somewhat. 

He didn’t believe you, but he didn't want to pry. He hardly knew you after all.

The votes were tallied and there was a strong majority for the people who wanted to stay, mostly due to 456’s failure of rallying everyone. In his attempt to convince the other players, his revelation that he'd played these games before only sparked the people's hope that they too could make it out with the cash.

When dinner was being served, you rushed yourself to be one of the first to receive your bento box. You sat toward the back of the room again, claiming a bed as your own. With the sounds of everyone eating and talking, you almost forgot that this wasn't a school cafeteria but a death game. You tried to stay sharp so you can adapt. 

It didn't take long for Thanos to start looking for you. You tried to act like you didn't notice walking up to you. You stared at your dinner like it was the most interesting thing in the world. You didn't look up until he was right in front of you and cleared his throat.

You didn't want to look him in the eye, looking almost scared of him. You didn't want to be dragged into his chaotic way of dealing with the games. You weren't being forced into his murderous and drug-fueled pandemonium.

“Hey, we need to talk.” He said. His eyes seemed concerned, but you could tell he was still high from his pupils.

You shook your head. “No thanks,” You said curtly.

He rolled his eyes. “Babe, come on, I-”

“Don't. Don't call me that.” You cut him off, gaze sharpening somewhat. 

He took a deep breath, clearly annoyed. “How did you even end up here?” He asked. “I know we were struggling but-”

You scoffed. “Really? Not everything is about you, Su-bong.” You spat. It was the first time he'd heard his real name in a few months, and it was said with so much venom.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You took a shaky breath. “My mom is sick, really sick.” You said, voice suddenly softer. It hurt to remember that. What if you died here? She would think you left her at her most vulnerable time. You didn't think you'd forgive yourself for that.

He wasn't exactly thinking clearly. The pills were still affecting his thought process. “Why are you acting like I should have known that?” He shot back. He was loud, a little too loud. You could see the crowd started to look toward you both. 

Your eyes widened, not really knowing how to feel about that. “I didn't, I just-” You said, stumbling over your words a bit.

“So can we just talk? Please.” He asked. He was trying to level with you, but he just wasn't doing it effectively. You had been with him long enough that you knew this was just his way to clumsily make amends.

You wanted to talk to him. A part of you regretted breaking up with him, but you knew it was necessary. He had just been dragging you down with him for years, and you feared he would continue that here. This was no place to get yourself wrapped up in his chaos. You shook your head. “I can't.”

He rolled his eyes. “What the fuck do you mean, I can't? It's not-” He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder yanking him backwards. Thanos fell to the floor, turning to face the threat.

“I think they said no.” Player 001 said, voice deep and sharp. 

Thanos chuckled, trying to maintain his tough guy facade. “How about you stay outta this, old man?” He spat. He started to stand up, intending on hurting him back.

001 didn't react to that emotionally. “You should really respect your elders.” He said before stepping over and kicking him, putting him back on the floor.

Your breath hitched. You wanted to say something but you were just frozen. It wasn't until the older man had him pinned on the ground by his throat that you got up.

“Hey, leave him alone.” You called out.

The man's gaze snapped toward you. His grip relaxed somewhat, and Thanos took some greedy breaths. 

“I think he got the message, let him go.” You said. Your voice was almost shaking. 

The man got up and walked back to his group. You hesitated for a moment before walking off without a word to Thanos. You didn't even look at him, which was for the best. He wore a shit-eating grin because you still cared enough that you stopped the man from beating the shit out of him. 

You made your way over toward the group Player 001 was a part of. You tried not to be intimidated by the older men, but the fact Jun-hee was with them made you feel a bit better about this.

“Would you guys mind if I joined you for a moment? Just until he gets distracted.” You asked meekly. You really didn't want to intrude, but you figured sticking with the man who just kicked his ass would keep him away for the moment.

456 looked up at you, his hardened gaze softening ever so slightly as he did. “Stay as long as you need.” He said. Player 001 seemed to react to that statement in some way, almost intrigue, but you didn't want to get involved in that. 

The younger man in the group began striking up conversation with you rather quickly, going around and introducing everyone to you. You smiled nervously before saying your name.

Dae-ho continued, “Do you know that guy?” He asked you. 

You sighed. “Um, yeah. I do.” You murmured. You didn't want to explain everything. You didn't want to be overheard by anyone else and have your words twisted. The situation was too complicated and nuanced to discuss it in this scenario.

Before Dae-ho finished his next question, Gi-hun interrupted him, as he felt your discomfort was obvious. He leaned forward to offer you his carton of milk. “Here, you should take this. You hardly got to eat your dinner, and someone definitely took it after you left.” He said with a bitter chuckle after the last statement. Of course someone would be that selfish.

You shook your head. “No, I couldn't do that.” You said.

He shrugged. “I can't drink the plain kind anyway.” He said nonchalantly. 

You hesitantly took the carton from his hand. “Thank you, sir.” You managed to get out, clearly touched by his generosity in the moment.

Dae-ho continued to chat with you, and you could almost feel Thanos's gaze burning a hole in the back of your skull.

Because he had hardly taken his eyes off you. He stood in the opposite side of the room, silently brooding and watching you as Nam-gyu tried to convince him to let him have one of the pills. He took the chain from his neck and shoved it toward him, muttering “Here” with some disdain.

He shouldn't have a problem with this. He wasn't your boyfriend anymore, he knew that. But he wanted to believe you were still with him in a way. It was killing him to think that you gave up on him. It was worse knowing that you have every right to.

After lights out, you found it hard to get any sleep. You had moved into an empty bed near the rest of the group you seemed to find yourself with. Eventually you sat up. You didn't think you were going to be able to fall asleep right now.

“Can't sleep?” You heard someone's voice from the dark. You flinched and inhaled sharply at the sound, immediately becoming on edge. You realized it was just Gi-hun after a moment.

You gave a nervous laugh. “You scared the shit out of me.” You whispered. You could barely make out his silhouette in the dark.

“Sorry, sorry.” He said with a chuckle.

Out of everyone in your little group, you trusted Gi-hun the most. It wasn't even just because you knew he'd been in the games before. That was certainly a factor, but you trusted him because he checked on you during the vote. His soft words and small smile meant more to you than he probably knew. This place seemed like you were trapped with desperate people willing to do unspeakable things for money, but he showed you kindness when he didn't know you at all.

“You know, I don't think that creep is going to give you trouble anymore.” He said.

You didn't know how to respond to that. A part of you wanted to defend Su-bong, but you also didn't want to explain the whole situation. “I doubt it.” You murmured.

“Is he an ex-boyfriend or something?” He asked. 

“Um, yeah.” You whispered with a nod. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear the emotions from your mind. This conversation was hardly helping you sleep.

He chuckled again, clearly trying to seem playful, but his attempt rang hollow. “Judging from how he acts, I think you made a good choice breaking up with-”

“Can you stop talking about a situation you know nothing about?” You snapped, your voice somewhat louder than you intended. Your words were harsh, and you suddenly became very worried about how he would react to your outburst. 

“Sorry, it's just…” You trailed, trying to think of the best way to explain it without divulging too much. “It's really complicated.” 

He was taken aback but also somewhat impressed that you stood up to him, but you couldn't pick up on the subtleties of his body language in the dark. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried.” He whispered back. 

You didn't say anything. You didn't want to. 

He broke the silence. “We'll watch out for you, y’know? You'll only deal with him on your terms.” He said.

You didn't know how to respond to that. You hadn't had intentions of joining any groups, and when you asked to sit with them. You were only looking for a temporary solution to your problem. “Thank you.” You answered, hoping that sufficed. 

He didn't say anything else, so you assumed he was going back to sleep. You sighed in relief. You laid back down, hoping that even if you didn't fall back to sleep, you would be left alone.

You eventually woke up to the hard LED lighting and cheery tune playing to announce the next game. You felt a pit growing in your stomach as the sense of dread intensified.

You tried your best to hide any sense of uneasiness about being around your new allies, but it was hard not to be wary. You hardly knew any of them and now they expected you to trust them in a death game? You didn't think you would trust someone here. Not even him. 

You found yourself playing Flying Stone alongside everyone but Jung-bae. He had volunteered to find another team since your group had one too many members. The look of anxiety on Gi-hun's face made you feel guilty for being here. You probably should have left instead since Jung-bae seemed to be missed. Luckily his team made it out just fine.

Your group was last, paired with another team who wasn't as fortunate as yours. As you crossed the finish line, they were gunned down. It was a harrowing tone shift.

You all walked back to the dorms quietly until Dae-ho tried to lighten the mood a bit and began telling everyone how well they did, even Young-il who had nearly gotten you all killed. 

As you walked across the room, you noticed most of the Os faces sour that you all at made it, and Thanos did too until he noticed you were with them. His gaze softened into what seemed to be guilt for his quick judgment.

You didn't notice it, however. You spoke to Dae-ho: “We wouldn't have gotten out of there without you knowing how to play gonggi though. That flip at the end was amazing.” You said, nudging his arm playfully. You had only meant for the comment to be friendly, but you noticed the light blush spreading across his face as he bashfully tried to write off the feat.

Thanos noticed it too, and needless to say he was sulking, pouting even. His back rested against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “I can play gonggi too.” He muttered.

Nam-gyu, being the great friend he was, laughed in his face. “No you can't dude. Don't even try to say you can.” He found it pathetic and it was so funny to him. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Thanos spat back, not sharing the joking tone. But Nam-gyu didn't react negatively to his harsh words, he just laughed a bit more before going quiet.

The voting process occurred once again, and while the margin was closer this time, ultimately a majority decided to play one more game. Your vote hadn’t changed, and neither had Thanos’s. You had been hoping that he only voted to continue the first time because he hadn’t known you were there. You prayed to whatever higher power existed that he would press the X this time around, but he didn’t. You weren’t entirely surprised, but it shook you to the core.

After that though, things seemed to be going well. You were enjoying yourself with your new friends, well as much as you can enjoy your stay in a death game. You had even started to forget that Thanos was even there throughout the course of that afternoon. You enjoyed talking to Dae-ho and the others. You could tell Dae-ho was smitten with you, but you avoided the topic like the plague. You just didn't want to have to explain anything to any of your allies. Both in fear of their perception and also knowing it would upset you more than it needed to. 

That was until Dae-ho came back from the bathrooms. He was much quieter than usual and considerably less chipper. You noticed it almost instantly. “Dae, are you okay?” You asked. 

He met your gaze for a moment before averting his eyes, almost embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess. It's just…” He trailed for a moment. You just seemed confused. “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't know that you had a boyfriend.”

Your jaw tensed as you took a deep breath. Your blood was boiling in your skin, your insides burning with a fire you hadn't felt before Dae-ho seemed taken aback by your change in demeanor.

“Who told you that?” You asked, though it sounded more like a demand. You knew the answer already, but you wanted to hear it. It was more so he got all of the information before you stormed off. You were going to give Thanos a piece of your mind. Because you hadn’t been uncomfortable at all, and you certainly didn’t have a boyfriend. Not anymore.

He seemed nervous and a bit confused. “Uh, the guy with the purple hair… Thanos, right?” He stuttered. 

You sighed. “Do yourself a favor: never trust a word that asshole says.” You said sharply. Before he could respond, you stood up and stormed in Thanos’s direction. 

Nam-gyu noticed you before Thanos did. “Oh, you’re in for it now.” He teased.

Thanos looked up but didn’t seem phased by your obvious anger. “Hey, babe wha-”

“Thanos. Hallway. Now.” You demanded, not even stopping to look at him. 

Nam-gyu laughed. “Oh shit, dude. You got the rapper name and everything. You’re cooked.” 

You didn’t turn around. You just raised your hand and flipped him off. 

You walked a few paces into the hall before stopping to turn toward where you came from. You tried to calm yourself down a bit, but any progress you had was shattered when Thanos stepped through.

“What the hell is your problem?” You asked him.

Thanos looked confused. “Babe, what are you talking about?” He knew what you were talking about, but he didn’t reference it. Maybe you would think he was unaware of any misdeeds.

You seemed eerily calm on the outside but internally your thoughts were a chaotic tangle of all the anger you had been building up. Everything you bottled up since things in your relationship started going south threatened to explode through the unbothered facade you were desperately clinging to. “Stop calling me that. I’m pretty sure I’ve made myself fucking clear.” You said.

He reached out to put a hand on your shoulder but you jerked back out of his grasp. It was mostly because you didn’t want him to touch you in fear of what he would do, but there was a part of you that feared you would realize how much you had missed his comfort.

“All I said was that you were spoken for. That dude has been all over you.” He said.

You scoffed. “Okay so even if that was what was happening, which it isn’t, I’m not spoken for.”

Thanos rolled his eyes. “Not this shit again,” He said as if you were overreacting. Because a part of him thought you were. He wanted to believe that what you had said that night was just out of anger. Maybe once you calmed down, the two of you could talk it out. Then he thought you just needed some time to think about things. He didn’t want to believe that you gave up on him. Even though you had every right to. If you gave up on him, there wasn’t anyone else he had. 

You took a deep breath. “Do you not remember what happened that night? Were you too high?” You asked. It was a genuine question, but you were also making a jab toward him as well.

“Yes, I do remember, it’s just-”

“Good. I meant what I said. I’m not doing this… doing us anymore. You made your choice.” You said. Your voice was shaking, hardly keeping together under your duress. 

He seemed to be finally processing the severity of your situation. He’d been denying the finality of it all. You were his last form of stability in his life, and he hadn’t wanted to accept that he ruined it in fear he’d fly off the handle. But he’d always been out of control. He always had been. The only time he ever felt any sense of calm or warmth was with you. He didn’t want to do this without you, because he knew he would spiral.

His breathing quickened, almost starting to panic. You noticed the change in his demeanor but you stayed distant. You didn’t want to fall for it if this was all an elaborate manipulation.

“I didn’t know you were…” He started, stuttering slightly. “I thought you were just mad, I didn’t-”

“I was mad. I’m still mad. And I’m going to stay mad until you start realizing the shit you put me through. That you’re still putting me through.” You said. That was the first time you had ever suggested that you had any possibility of forgiving him. Maybe it was naive, but you wanted to be able to forgive him. You loved him and you wanted him in your life, but you owe it to yourself to see that he actually feels remorse and tries to change before you let him back in.

He wrapped his arms around himself, like he was comforting himself. You tried to ignore the ache in your heart at the sight of his distress. He chose his words deliberately. “I know, I’ve been an asshole. Not just that night but for a long time before. I shouldn’t have taken the money, but” 

“It’s not just the money.” You said. Your voice was soft but there was a stern undertone. 

He furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t get what you meant.

You sighed. You met his gaze, eyes almost unreadable to him. “Take a look at the badge on your chest and think about it, okay?” You said. His eyes widened, but you started walking out of the hall. He stood still for a moment, realizing why his attempts to reconcile with you were going so poorly. He was putting you through more hell for his own gain. He hadn’t changed at all.

You walked back to your group without saying a word. Young-il looked up at you. “I was just asking if I should come check on you two.” He said playfully.

You paused, meeting his eyes for just a moment. Young-il made you nervous. He was too eager for violence in your opinion. “It's fine. Thank you.” You said quietly, not wanting to upset him. You slid down the wall and sat against it, staring ahead silently. Should you even consider giving Thanos another chance? He seemed sincere but you were just scared. Mostly just scared about how much you still loved him. 

You didn't explain what happened in the hallway to any of your allies. The situation was too complicated to convey and you didn't exactly want their advice either. You tried to act like nothing happened, but you were definitely a lot quieter than usual. You picked at your dinner and eventually gave what was left to Jun-hee. You gave some excuse about her eating for two, but you missed Gi-hun's slightly suspicious gaze.

That night you were still having trouble sleeping despite the fact you were infinitely more tired today than the night prior. You could hear Gi-hun and Young-il talking softly. You tried not to listen, but it was hard not to when everything else was silent. You eventually heard Young-il mention he was going to try to get some sleep. He walked off, but it didn't seem that Gi-hun moved.

After a few minutes, you got out of your bed and walked over to where they were. You stood there for a moment, not wanting to scare him but too timid to get his attention.

He eventually realized you were there and jumped slightly. You chuckled while moving to sit next to him. “Payback for last night.” You teased in a hushed whisper. You could hardly see him smile in the dark.

After a moment of silence, you spoke. “Can I talk to you about my…” You trailed for a moment, thinking of a way to phrase it.

“About Thanos?” He finished for you. You nodded. You almost wanted to say no, but you wanted to sleep and you needed to get it off your mind in order to do that.

You sighed. “You were right. There is a good reason I broke up with him.” You said. You didn't want to explain it. At first you thought you were sparing Thanos from the info getting out, but your allies already had a negative opinion of him.

You continued. “He'd been an asshole for a few months beforehand, but I stood my ground and broke up with him two months ago because he stole my savings to buy drugs.” You said softly.

He nodded. “Sounds like a good reason.” He agreed lightheartedly. 

“I still love him. So much. I've missed him every second of every day. But I can't just deal with how he was treating me.” You said. You felt your eyes starting to water a bit. “I want to be with him but I'm just scared.”

He nodded again, staying quiet for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. “Speaking as a bit of a deadbeat myself, it's not a linear process to change your ways. There will be ups and downs.” He said, definitely seeming a bit more vulnerable at that moment. While his vice wasn't substances, his gambling habits ruined his marriage, his relationship with his mother and daughter, and pretty much any friendship he had. You looked over at him, seeing his Adam's apple waver slightly. 

“I can tell you that taking those first few steps knowing you have someone to support you is invaluable. I'm not saying you should let him walk all over you, but you staying with him and supporting him through it will mean more than you will ever know.” He said. 

The tears finally rolled down your face, and you swiped them away quickly. “I just hope that I got through to him. Not even for my sake. I can't let him spiral like that.” You whispered shakily.

“Be open to it until he shows that you didn't reach him. That big of a step can seem impossible at first. Give him time.” He said softly. 

You both sat there in a tranquil silence for a moment. You would have never expected to receive some of the best advice in your life in this situation, but here you were. When he had decided he would rejoin the games, he never thought he would let himself be this vulnerable in this environment. 

“Thank you, Gi-hun.” You said softly. 

He momentarily wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving your upper arm a comforting squeeze. “Anytime, kid.” He said.

You nodded sincerely with a small smile. You yawned softly, reaching up to cover your mouth with your hand.

“Go get some sleep.” He said, sounding a bit more fatherly than he meant to. 

You didn't draw attention to that. “You too.” You jabbed back. He chuckled softly as you got up and returned to your bunk.

-

The next morning, Thanos hadn't sought you out anytime before the next game. You hadn't entirely expected him to, but you just noticed that you didn't even remember seeing him in the breakfast line.

If you could even call it breakfast. The amount and quality of the meals you received were on a sharp decline. Who the hell would eat a single hard boiled egg for breakfast without a drink to go with it? You didn't even like eggs much, but you forced yourself to eat it knowing you needed nutrients somehow.

The next game was somehow even worse than the first two. It was worse than you could have imagined. It was absolute chaos and pandemonium and it shook you to your core. Mingle was forcing your group to split up and form shaky alliances with people you hardly knew just to make it through a round. Sometimes Gi-hun or Young-il would have to separate from the group to find their own, and you'd sit in the locked room praying that you wouldn't hear either of their numbers in the death toll. 

You were in the room that Young-mi was locked out of, forced to watch Hyun-ju's reaction to her closest friend being murdered ruthlessly. You hardly knew either of them but it tore you up inside. You wished this wouldn't happen again. Especially not with him.

Somehow, after the penultimate round of three players, you returned to the turnstile separated from the rest of your group. You called out to them, trying to look over the crowd to no avail. When the annoying music started blaring and the platform began turning, you quickly felt the rush of panic filling your entire being.

What were you going to do now? You'd be delayed in finding a group with them. Would they try to find you? Or would you be locked out just like Young-mi was? 

When the platform stopped and the number 2 was announced, you froze. As everyone else around you seemed to already have pairs available, you stood there realizing how totally screwed you were. You tried to look for another solo person, but there didn't seem to be any. You were gonna die here, weren't you?

Not if Thanos could help it. He was with Nam-gyu and Min-su, his now trio after leaving Se-mi in the round prior. While the turnstile was moving, he looked around to the people around him. When he saw you alone, his heart dropped.

When the number was announced, Nam-gyu spoke immediately. “Well, bye Min-su.” He said with a smirk, grabbing Thanos's arm. 

Thanos pulled away from his grasp. “No, you go with him.” He said, to Nam-gyu's annoyance. He knew exactly what was going on. He began to notice the changes in his friend and he hated it. He didn’t like you, what you were doing to Thanos. You were a good influence on Su-bong and he hated you for it. Thanos was his ticket out of his small town and pathetic life. And his friend too, but that seemed less important right now.

When you felt a hand on your arm, you instinctively flinched away, turning to see the threat.

But it wasn't a threat. Your eyes met Su-bong's brown ones. They seemed warm for once. He was concerned, yes, but there was a fondness in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a while.

“Hey, me and you, okay?” He asked, but it was more of an order as he grabbed your hand and began going to a door. You followed behind him closely. 

Someone was waiting outside the door you were heading toward, beckoning toward someone who seemed to have tripped. He led you into the room, apologizing loudly as he pulled the door out of the man's grass and slammed it shut. 

The man yelled through the opening in the door, but his voice was muffled by your pulse pounding in your ears. You stared at the wall, slightly unfocused as you tried to process what just happened.

You felt Su-bong grab your shoulders firmly and you jumped slightly at the sudden contact. 

You didn't notice the fear flash across his face as he thought you were going to flee from him. But you didn't, he had just surprised you.

“Hey? You okay?” He asked, clearly nervous.

You didn't hesitate to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest and began to cry. All of the stress overwhelmed you and you couldn't hold back from letting it out, getting some comfort from the man who blamed himself for most of the stress you were under.

He froze for a microsecond, shocked ever so slightly before indulging in the physical comfort he had been deprived of when he felt he needed it most. Not that he blamed you for leaving though. 

He rubbed your back lazily with one hand, the other finding its way into your hair. He shushed you softly. “Hey, it's okay. We're okay here. The door's locked, we got through it, okay?” He murmured.

You didn't respond verbally, just cried harder into his chest.

He said sweet nothings to you, hoping something would be able to give you the peace you so desperately deserved. “I love you so much, you know? I never stopped. I know I didn't act like it sometimes but you were truly the reason my world kept spinning. If you want me gone after this, that's fine, but I promise you that unless you tell me otherwise, I'm not going anywhere.

“And I know coming from me that promises might do jack shit, but I want to be better. I have to. I-I haven't even taken a pill since Red Light Green Light. When I saw you after voting, I couldn't do it anymore. I gave the necklace to Nam-gyu, I don't even have it. And I don't want it back. I just want you back.” He rambled. You seemed to find solace in his embrace, however fleeting it was. You nodded slightly, not looking up.

When the automatic doors buzzed and unlocked the doors, you flinched. You hadn't even noticed they started announcing the eliminations yet. Between your cries, your heart beating out of your chest, and Thanos's words echoing in your head, you completely missed it. You pulled away, stepping out of the room with some sense of urgency. You wanted to make sure your friends were okay.

They had finally spotted you as they had regrouped rather quickly. And seeing you storming out of a room, tears streaming down your face, and your ex-boyfriend in the room you just left, it didn't take Gi-hun to inaccurately put some of the pieces together. 

“What the hell is your problem, man?” The older man snapped. He walked past you, giving you a gentle push toward the rest of your allies before moving toward Thanos. 

To your credit, you tried to stop Gi-hun. “No, that's not-”

He ignored you, assuming that was an attempt to defend him on your part. “Do the right thing for once and stay the fuck away from them.” He asserted loudly. You covered your ears, all of the chaos around you was too much. You were fighting off a panic attack and Su-bong could tell.

His heart wrenched in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you. He tried not to feel hurt that you weren't standing up for him, because he knew that this wasn't your fault at all. Instead of losing his temper and spouting the obscenities that came to mind, he just turned and walked off. Gi-hun was surprised that he backed down so quickly. 

Jun-hee was asking you how you were, trying to check in on you, but you didn't respond. Your gaze was far away. Your friends looked at each other nervously but started to follow the others out of the game hall. 

Thanos returned to the game hall as quickly as he could. He didn’t want any of your friends to get the wrong idea. You both could figure this out when you get your wits about you. He returned to Nam-gyu and Min-su, and the silence between the trio was deafening. Nam-gyu was obviously pissed beyond belief, and that made Min-su silent to avoid his wrath. 

Thanos noticed the cross necklace thrown aside by the wall. The lid was off and it was clearly empty. Nam-gyu must have thrown it in frustration upon realizing it. 

You didn't say a word about what happened in the room. Part of you knew Gi-hun would assume you were in shock or that Thanos had threatened you into lying. You knew you couldn't convince him otherwise.

Young-il apologized for letting you get separated, saying he thought it was his fault somehow. You didn't know how he came to that assumption, but you just shrugged. 

Your team talked about what they thought would happen next. Gi-hun was hinting that he thought shit was about to hit the fan and that he was considering trying to usurp the power of the games. Dae-ho began counting up the number of votes each side had using the patches on their jackets. From his best guess, they only needed three people to switch to an X to get the majority to leave. 

You just sat there. Your head was still spinning. Everything seemed so loud. You hadn’t realized you had instinctively covered your ears until you noticed Gi-hun holding a finger to his lips. He didn’t have the chance to ask you anything before the announcer’s voice rang out. It was time to vote. There was no chance to try to talk to others or even recover at all. 

Gi-hun voted first this time around. You had no doubts what he would choose. He confidently walked up to the buttons, slamming his hand on the red X before turning without a word.

After so many players had been eliminated, your number was next in the sequence. You didn’t realize until Jun-hee nudged your arm gently. You didn’t say anything, just walked up to the podium. With a shaky hand, you pressed the red X, joining Gi-hun on the side of the room. 

You were hardly paying attention to the numbers being called or the votes being cast. You were listening for one number in particular. The one vote that meant more to you than your own.

“Player 230.”

You watched Su-bong walk up to the buttons. You wanted to be nervous, but you had faith. You believed in him. 

Without hesitation, he pressed the red X. 

A smile creeped onto your face as the crowd reacted. Most of the Xs were shocked and the Os were in disbelief. You looked up at him, tears welling in your eyes. Happy tears this time.

He stood next to you, but he didn’t make any attempt to make contact with you. He didn’t want to overstep.

Your hand brushed against his, and he felt his heart begin to race in his chest. You intertwined your fingers, and it felt like his heart stopped. He was almost in shock, not believing this was really happening. He’d wanted nothing more to be in your good graces again, to be loved by you again. This felt like a dream to him.

Neither of you said anything. You just basked in the love you shared in the moment. 

When the number of people left to vote was dwindling, you started to pay more attention. You looked back to the people who were left. You noticed that a good few of them were Os. That made you nervous, but what caught your attention more was Young-il. 

He seemed… off. Like he was plotting something. You felt like you could see deceit in the back of his mind. Was he switching his vote? You didn’t think he would have had a reason to switch back after having switched before, but you knew people could be tempted. Even Jung-bae was swayed to vote O at one point. 

But you would ever see if the man truly was planning anything. It didn’t even matter if he was. The next two players, both Os, voted X. Their greed was sated. As Young-il was called to vote, the tallies sat at 51 for X and 48 for O. Half the room cried out in relief, the other in disappointment. It was already decided. You were going home. You could see shock and almost disappointment etched in Player 001’s face as he seemingly reluctantly pressed the red button. 

You turned and hugged Thanos. He was surprised at first, but he wrapped his arms around you and held you tight, like he feared you would fade away.

You both made it through hell. If you could do that, you had complete faith that you could make this work between you. It wouldn’t be easy; you both knew that. But if you could survive this, reconciling your relationship would be a walk in the park. You were both determined to see this matter resolved, to never spend a second apart again.

[deerabigailhobbs]

I agree with pretty much everything here and have been screaming it from the rooftops since Abigail first popped up on my screen. I understand why people like murder family, the concept is cool and fun to play around with. But when people insist that there was a way for it to be canon, I can't help but laugh.

If, and it's a pretty big if, Abigail had survived Mizumono she wouldn't have survived long. I see only three options that could have played out:

1) Hannibal kills her out of jealousy because of Will's obsession with her. Or he simply got bored of a fake domestic life

2) Will kills her because of his obsession and his itch to finish what Garrett Jacobs started

3) Abigail takes her own life knowing that at any moment those men could, and if she dies she wants to die by her own hands. (Which to me isn't too far fetched because I am a firm believer that Abigail knew Hannibal was going to kill her after taking his hand in mizumono and if she was going to die she'd take her own steps in doing so.)

Abigail's whole character is to be a prop. To be presented to the audience how other characters see fit, which is usually cold and callous. And it works! I've seen so many Hannibal fans hate on her because they think she's rude, annoying, evil etc. Some even happy she died, and it gets on my nerves because it's a front! It's said in the show that she's extremely manipulative and yeah, she is! She's manipulating not only the characters but the audience that she's more put together than she actually is. She's surrounded by police, therapists, doctors, murders, and she cannot afford to be vulnerable. But those few scenes of her by herself, In the house before Nick Boyle threatens her, or her dream sequences clearly shows she's extremely traumatised and falling apart. Does that seem like a cold blooded killer to you?

And that vulnerability does seep through when talking to other characters. The first scene that comes to mind is with Jack and Alana showing her Nick Boyle's body. She's trying so hard to answer questions, be firm and quick with her words but she's crying and quickly wiping away tears. And yet still some of the fandom will say she's just like Will and Hannibal. But she's not. You just want her to be so your OTP can have a child you can mold into whatever you like for your fics and fanart. You're not seeing a character, you, like Hannibal and Will and all the others, are seeing a prop.

The way nobody ever saw Abigail Hobbs for who she was. Not Will Graham. Not Freddie Lounds. Not Hannibal Lecter. Not Jack Crawford. Maybe Bloom? Maybe? Not even the fans of the show really ever saw her for who she was. The concept of the murder family is fundamentally against what Abigail ever wanted. She was never their daughter. She was never a murderer. She did feel remorse for the crimes she helped commit. She was never what they wanted her to be, but it didn't matter. We know she wouldn't want the murder family because nobody who actively feels intense remorse for even being an accomplice WOULD.

She was never their murder daughter. She was never a protege. She was never a murderer. Her measured and shy demeanor makes her a bit like a mold of clay. She is whatever everyone wants her to be. To Jack, she's an accomplice who must be held accountable. To Freddie, she's a story to sensationalise. To Will, she is the daughter he never had. To Hannibal, she is Mischa. To the audience, she is the daughter of their favorite queer pairing and they engage in domestic activities.

Think about this. When she is their daughter, are you writing them that way for her own benefit? Are you writing her to be that for her sake? Or are you writing it for their sake? Are you writing her to be their daughter to domesticate the pairing between Hannibal and Will? Or are you writing her to be their daughter because it's what she would want?

If she was truly the murderer that Hannibal leads her to believe she is, then why would she wake up from nightmares over her father's victims condemning her?

That is the tragedy of Abigail Hobbs. She never was truly allowed to simply exist. Her existence was always influenced by all these external forces and interpretations. People projecting what they wanted her to be onto her and the fans are culpable as well. She was never allowed to actually heal. She escaped the clutches of one insane father and lept into the arms of two.

[engel-hageshii]

I went back a bit and took more screenshots! the hallway towards the daycare is really pretty and I had to take pictures!

you know, I thought there wasn't enought representation of Moon in the game (since parents complained about their kid having nightmares) but...

if the colors of that board are meant for themed parties...then the blue ones are for Moon themed parties?

Red would be for Freddy, Green for Monty, Purple'd be Roxanne...then blue has to be for Moon! they'd have used pink for Chika! not to mention the balloons all over the place!

THERE WERE THEMED PARTIES OF HIM!!

KIDS LIKED HIM!!!!

THIS WEIRD LOOKING CAT HAD LITTLE FANS THAT WANTED HIM IN THEIR PARTIES!!

NOT FREDDY, NOT MONTY, NOT SUNNY, THEY WANTED HIM!!!

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HAPPY THIS MAKES ME!!!

[gabe-dasha-formerlynice1cream]

Headcanon:

Yes, I know Holmes' actual age is probably specified somewhere, however

In "Study in scarlet", when he and Watson first meet, Holmes is described as a student. Therefore I find this Skinny, Little, Photogenic, Sleep Deprived, Running On Coffe And Crime Stories, Missing Member Of One Direction Motherfucker™️ very canon

Just imagine

Doctor John Watson, years in college in order to become a doctor, probably some more years of working experience at Bart's, drafted into the army, traumatised, exhausted and worn off by life, most likely thinking he's way past his prime, coming back to London, looking for a flat and a quiet life

Meeting this hyperactive kid

This is how I am going through the og canon books. With this image in my head. And there is nothing you can do to change my mind.

[cardsweetheart]

I can't stop thinking about how handsy Ruggie would be. Boy has his hands up shirts and skirts at any moment of the day. You couldn't pry him off you with crow bar. You shake him off and seconds later his claws are on your thigh again. Behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. Palms wiggling up to cup your chest. Sweet soft cuddles are nearly impossible. He will find any opportunity to grab on and latch. The more of you the better. You are warm, and hot, and his. Why would he not take advantage of every opportunity to touch you? To feel you in his own grasp. To indulge in every bit of you.

Also to annoy you but that's just an extra perk :)

[share-the-damn-bed]

joyce reacting to finding out jonathan is dating nancy would be so funny

“is she smart??? is she pretty??? is- is it nancy.”

Oh Anon, this is my favorite topic to explore via fanfic. It's ripe with so many good scenarios! Did she notice anything between them during season one, did she notice anything during season 2? (she was quite stressed and busy during these times, so I'd wager no).

Did she make little observations that led her to a big realization or did jancy hit her over the head with it once they'd been revealed? Idk, but it is so fun because we KNOW Joyce loves Nancy and loves that she loves Jonathan and doesn't even mind when she catches Nancy spending the night. Like Jonathan and Nancy are not subtle, season 3 taught us that.

It's the best. And I'm glad we don't have a definite answer on how she found out because now we get to play around with it for all eternity.

...I am partial, though, to the idea that Joyce comes home from work one day soon after the events of season 2 to find Nancy on her couch. At first she's confused but after watching them interact for a moment, it all clicks and she goes:

Oh.

She then invites Nancy to stay for dinner and the rest is history.

[bluetiefling]

interesting how often the ones claiming that galadriel's season 2 arc was perfect and everyone who doesn't think so is just too haladriel brainrotted or something are the same folks who openly say it's fine if she were to just... fade into the background in season 3 or disappear outright. sorry I actually do think it's sexist for galadriel to be introduced as the central protagonist only for her to be gradually phased out so that gil-galad and elendil or elrond or whichever legendarium dude can have more to do.

[glambots]

had an idea that’s pretty self indulgent but I think sun and moon would like the little quirks I have. I’m autistic and I flap my hands when I get really excited and I also say ‘yippee!’ And ‘teehee’ in a high pitched voice and I dunno I think sun/moon would find that adorable.

I like to imagine one of the DCA's autistic quirks includes mirroring/mimicking people, so they'd definitely pick up on your mannerisms and start copying them (intentionally or not).

[spacedace]

Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

-

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.