#angst snippets

[unforgivenn]

HIDE AND SEEK

The night crept in with a cloak of chilling silence, broken only by the distant howl of the wind.

Whumper stood amidst the gnarled trees, a figure shrouded in darkness. He moved with calculated grace, each step a predator's silent stalk.

Whumpee cowered in the corner of the neglected cabin, the wood groaning in protest against the weight of its own decay. Fear coiled around Whumpee's heart like a serpent, its icy grip tightening with every ragged breath.

The door creaked open, hinges protesting the intrusion. Whumpee's gaze darted towards the entrance, trembling with a mixture of dread and desperate hope for help.

Whumper's silhouette loomed in the doorway, a specter of nightmares giving form. His presence suffocated the air, tainting it with the stench of fear.

"Come," Whumper's voice slithered into the room, a serpent's hiss laced with promises of pain. "It's time to play." He said in a sing-song voice as if it was nothing but a mere child's play

Whumpee's heart hammered in his chest, a primal rhythm of terror. He knew escape was futile, trapped in the web of Whumper's twisted game. He slapped a hand to his mouth, trying not to make any noise and drown out his pathetic sobs.

Whumpee could hear whumper's steps coming closer to them as he shut his eyes tight wishing that the walls would somehow swallow him whole. It would be much better than what whumper would have in store for him.

He knew he never should have ran. He should have been good. Now he's going to get himself hurt all over again.

Whumper suddenly jumped up behind whumpee grinning at how the other flinched violently, his eyes widening in terror, to afraid to look at the sadist behind him.

Whumper grabbed whumpee's shirt lifting him up in the air. A task much easier than thought.

"Found you"

[bookished]

“DO YOU KNOW HOW GODDAMN HARD IT IS HAVING A CRUSH ON SOMEONE AND NOT BEING ABLE TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH THE ONLY PERSON YOU WANT TO TALK TO IT ABOUT BECAUSE ITS ABOUT THEM???” “YES. I DO. I ABSOLUTELY DO ITS HORRIBLE TRUST ME I KNOW”

Ava had been in love with her best friend, Lisa, since the day they met in high school. She had always kept her feelings a secret, fearing that it would ruin their friendship. But as they grew older and moved away to college, Ava found it harder and harder to keep her emotions bottled up.

One day, Ava couldn't take it anymore and confided in Lisa. "Do you know how goddamn hard it is having a crush on someone and not being able to talk about it with the only person you want to talk to it about because it's about them?" she complained.

Lisa just looked at her, her expression unreadable. "Yes. I do. I absolutely do. It's horrible, trust me, I know," she replied.

Ava's heart raced as she wondered if Lisa had figured out her secret. But as the days went by, nothing changed between them. They still hung out, talked, and laughed like they always had.

Years later, Ava still thought about Lisa and what could have been. She realized that sometimes, the hardest part of love is not being able to say what you feel when you should have.

It wasn't until years later, when Ava was engaged to someone else, that Lisa finally confessed her own feelings for her. Ava was shocked but elated, realizing that Lisa had been harboring the same feelings for her all along.

But by then, it was too late. Ava was committed to someone else, and Lisa was left with the pain of unrequited love. The two drifted apart, unable to reconcile their feelings for each other with the reality of their lives.

Years later, Ava still thought about Lisa and what could have been. She realized that sometimes, the hardest part of love is not being able to say what you feel when you should have.

[meidnightrain]

UNDELIVERED❞ - aventurine

summary: his voicemail is full of messages, all from you, never to be heard

warnings: reader is gn, spoilers for the 2.1 penacony quest, angst, hurt/no comfort

notes: like genuinely i am not able to write for him anymore, i’m so sorry if this sucks or anything i’ve been suffering writers block for the longest time 😭

i saw the prettiest gemstones just now, but they couldn’t match the hue of your eyes. i know people belittle you for it, but i think they’re really beautiful, like all of you. i know you’re probably busy right now. i’ll wait for you to come back before telling you about my day, and you can tell me about yours. do you want to play a few rounds before turning in? i love you.

(played)

thanks for the gift; you seriously didn’t have to. i know you only came to penacony for business, and you didn’t have to take me along either. i’ll make it up to you, i swear. how about a date once you finish work? i heard about this casino; there’s this hotshot there that you might enjoy wiping the floor with. what do you say? see you later. i love you.

(played)

i know something's off, and you’re not telling me about it. where did you go just now? you promised we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other, but you’ve been hiding something the whole time we’ve been here. i’m not angry; i just…i just want you to be open with me. is that so bad? call me back as soon as you can. i love you.

(played)

i’m sorry i yelled at you; your plan wasn’t something… i could agree with, i don’t care if ratio agrees to it. we can work this out; you don’t have to do this alone. just come back, and maybe we can find a better solution. love you.

(played)

i know that i apologized, but it’s not in the way you think it is; maybe it wasn’t even directed at our argument. not sorry, like, "oh, i pity your upbringing," but more of, "sorry for thinking that we could and sorry that we ever tried (to work)." that sounds mean. maybe it is. i could never heal you from the wounds inflicted by your past; they were always too deep to fill up. and i know i wasn’t the best person for you to choose as your second half; why did you do it? why did you pick me out of everyone else? why did you think i was deserving enough of your affection?

look, i know you don't want to talk to me right now. i wouldn't want to either. but i really want this to work out in your favor. i know that i’m being selfish by wanting you even when i can’t. is it wrong to be selfish just this once if it means you’ll live?

yell at me and throw things and scream that i’m as bad as a person like those who hurt you, perhaps even more for knowing that you were hurting and i did it anyway. i don't care. but please don't ignore me. i would rather bleed myself dry for you than be forgotten. i know that nothing i say will change the past; what's done is done. but we can change the future. i don’t want to lose you, not in a million years, in another life, or in any other universe.

we can solve this, find a better alternative, and i can leave afterwards if that’s what you really want. if you can pretend that we’re okay just for a little bit—if you can talk to me one more time—i promise i’ll leave you alone. i promise i’ll never call you again or anything. please call me back. i love you so.

(played)

it’s been seventeen system hours, where are you?

(undelivered)

you’re joking, right? a grand performance? is this just another one of your pranks? there’s no way you- *cuts off*

(undelivered)

you did it, didn’t you? was it worth it?

(undelivered)

hey, please. please come back. i’m sorry. i’ll do anything to have you by my side. don’t leave me alone. please. i can’t live with myself knowing that the last words I said to you face-to-face were “i hate you.” i don’t hate you; i could never hate you. i’d hate the whole world before i could ever do that. please pick up. i love you please.

(undelivered)

it’s pathetic for me to keep calling you over and over again, thinking you’d pick up. maybe some part of me does, or i just want to hear the sound of your voicemail. i hate you; maybe i do hate you. i hate you for leaving me behind and making me think that maybe this would all work out.

(undelivered)

do you think it would have been any different? is it cruel of me to want you when you have never wanted anything else but this? you don’t have to come back as a ghost to haunt me when i’m haunted by everything because it reminds me of you. i can see you in front of me, always protecting me, but never once doing so for yourself. i can hear your laugh—your real laugh, not one of falsehood. i used to draw stars around your scars, didn’t i? but i was the cause of them bleeding you out before you...you’re gone now.

(undelivered)

i miss you. i’m sorry for what i said, and it’s too late now anyway. i won’t be able to forget you, like you told me to. they say that the brain can’t tell whether something is real or a dream, so i’d always believe this horrid dream, even if you’re not here anymore. i think of you all the time now that you’re gone. will you think of me up there?

(undelivered)

*static before it cuts off.*

(undelivered)

i hate the phrase ‘till death do us part’ because even after death, i would still love you. i’ll always be here right where you left me, waiting for you to come home even though i know you won’t.

(undelivered)

sweet dreams. i love you, kakavasha.

(undelivered)

© AVENTURNE 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD MY WORKS ONTO ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

[sosa2imagines]

Yours, ours, mine.

Imagine you are Bucky's wife. Steve has retired. He came back, after returning the stones. He gave Sam the shield. Steve lives with you and Bucky.

The more Steve sees you and Bucky, the more he pictures such life for himself. He fucks around with random girls. But all he can imagine is your face. Moaning your name, everytime he comes.

You roam freely in the house, having no clue about Steve's fascination with you.

He has set a camera in your bedroom. He jerks himself to the sight, of you and Bucky having sex. He is obsessed with your curves and figure. He loves seeing you naked.

When Bucky is out for work, Steve gets all touchy with you. You try to maintain distance. So he comes with a solution. He adds sleeping pills in your tea. Once you are knocked out, he sleeps next to you. Gently undresses you. Paying extra attention to your pussy, sucking your breasts like his life depends on them. Hands exploring your body, like he is worshipping you.

But he wants more. He wants to be balls deep buried in you.

He starts to gaslight Bucky. Picking up on his insecurities. "What if she gets bored of being alone for months, when you are out on missions?", "what about her needs?", "what if she finds someone else?".

Bucky pleads to him to stop. Steve assures him, he'll take care of you. Steve makes Bucky say that "Bucky himself is okay with Steve taking care of your his needs."

Bucky leaves for the mission happily, relieved his best friend will take care of you.

Steve is happy, to finally make you his.

You have no clue about this.

Good news lovelies, I have finally wrote this fic. The longest I have ever written.

Yours, ours, mine.

[httpiastri]

a quick snippet/teaser for the jeddah chapter!! <3 rlly wanted to write something quick abt him yesterday so i wrote this on the bus. hope you all have a lovely day and that you'll be sending all of your love to this cutie boy during the race 😚

(i needed someone to guide the reader for a sec so i used chris, i have no idea why. if don't know him then don't worry, he's not important for the story lol...)

series masterlist

you've never ever been to the ferrari paddock before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-qualifying duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the paddock instead of right outside the doors.

a fool dressed in a red bull cap, even. great.

"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.

"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"

he nods, smiling. "he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."

you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.

"sweetheart? can i come in?"

ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.

"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"

when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?

you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.

not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight.

"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.

"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."

it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."

ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.

"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"

"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."

you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."

a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second now. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.

he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "go out there and show them, baby," you tell him.

and so he does.

[getonite]

PLAYING : HOTLINE ! — DAZAI TUNES IN!

𝗧hinking about Dazai, your childhood friend and the one who shows his vulnerability only to you. Years after you've gone and left the Port Mafia and your terrible past behind, he knocks on your door. He looks downright terrible. His bloodied hands are trembling as he grips onto the fabric of Odasaku's coat, he's trembling, and on the verge of tears.

"Dazai, how'd you—" he practically leaps, his bandaged arms wrap around your neck, squeezing harshly, though you wonder how he found you... Ango.

There's not a word spoken between you two, but you know exactly what he needs. You pull him inside, carefully closing the door. "How about we clean you up first, okay?" You whisper. He stinks. His eyelids are puffy and there's red underlining his eyelashes. His hair is due for a wash with split ends, and he's pale. You guess he hasn't taken too much care of himself since you left. He silently nods, leaning his full bodyweight into you.

You bring him to your bathroom, carefully peeling the layers of clothing from him. The first to come off is the black coat he's regularly worn since he joined the Port Mafia.

His knees are to his chest as he speaks for the first time. "Mori-san's coat, burn it. I don't need it," he whispers in a raspy voice as if he's been screaming. You hum in acknowledgement as you set the dirty thing on the bathroom tile. Your hands carefully help him undress before starting to undo his bandages. "Years later and you still can't change your bandages like I told you to," he hears you whisper with a small smile. The bloodied and worn bandages fall to the floor as he hears the sound of streaming water come from the bathtub inches from him.

Once he's in the bath, you carefully rinse his body with warm water, lathering his new and old scars with soap carefully. There's a hint of guilt in your heart as you hear him wince, though this is probably for the best.

The pads of your fingers massage his scalp as you wash his hair, just like you did when the two of you were kids. You carefully trim his wet hair and brush it before getting him out of the tub, helping him dry off. You were likely the only person he could truly trust to see him so...bare and vulnerable. You couldn't exactly tell if the silence was tense or comforting, regardless you continued with is predictable mute moment. He always got like that when there was something wrong, you sigh.

"How about, I get you something to eat? I made some bento boxes, you can eat one and then brush your teeth, is that okay?" You speak softly and re-bandage his tender skin.

You smile softly at him when be finally nods. "Okay," you whisper and attempt to finish quickly before his mind changes.

As his hair dries it becomes its usual fluffy self, you'd assume hair matches personality; however, Dazai's eyes were close to dead. He only seemed to relax, feel different, when you touched him so gently. You quickly clean up and head to make him food. "You don't have to eat all of it y'know...just some, okay?" You whisper, setting the box in front of him.

He can tell your eyes are studying him as he eats, wondering what your Dazai from years ago has turned into. You look at him proudly when he finishes half of it before pushing it away. "Thank you," you whisper.

Handing him a toothbrush, you let him brush his teeth and fix the mess that is your bedroom, knowing he'll ask to sleep. And surely, 5 minutes later he stumbles to your doorway. "Can I...Can I stay?" You look him up and down, smiling softly. Compared to the terrible look he had when he first appeared at your door, he looks better. No longer like a man seconds from being a corpse.

"'Course," You smile, pulling back the covers, "C'mere."

He walks to the bed, crawling onto the soft sheets carefully. His brown eyes look at you expectingly, watching you get under the covers with him. He moves his body next to yours, putting his face into your neck without a word. "Ready to talk?" You whisper. His hoarse voice whispers a 'No.'

The calming effect your fingers have as they glide along him and his hair makes him feel like he's home. "Okay, just sleep. I'll be right here, I'm not leaving."

Dazai again, speaks no words, but his legs entertangle with yours. He remembers just why he came here. He missed you. Even if Odasaku is gone, he has you to make sure he doesn't go over the deep end. He'll save people, he'll grant Odasaku's last wish. But first, he wants to rest. Right next to his home.

"I promise, sleep." The man listens, squeezing onto you as if to test that this is real before drifting off.

For the first time in days...he's at peace.

A/N: dazai srsly needs a hug, 'n ill b the one 2 give it 2 him if no one else will! we need more fluffy fics of taking care of dazai, rather than dazai taking care of us. nyway, if u haven't signed up 4 the new tag list u totally should! there's new options n better format.

SUBSCRIBERS : @avatsu @sofliesy @tamreadfanfiction

[the-modern-typewriter]

Its always really great to read your work in my free time. Would you maybe consider a short story involving the hero's sidekick being killed by one villain, so the hero's primary villain goes to their hideout to console them

"Hey." The villain announced their presence as softly as they could, wary of startling the hero.

The hero didn't startle. They didn't even look up, or twitch. They continued to stare at a blank piece of the floor, jaw set, like the flagstones contained all the answers in the universe.

"I - uh - I heard what happened." The villain moved closer, slowly, making sure not to dip out of the hero's periphery vision. "I'm sorry."

The hero was clutching something in one white-knuckled fist - what was it?

"I know my saying that doesn't change what happened," the villain pressed, as the hero continued to say or acknowledge nothing. "But I'm so sorry for your loss. They were a good kid. Brave. How are you..how are you doing?"

It was a scrap of clothing. A bloodied scrap of clothing. The sidekick's uniform.

The villain closed their eyes briefly, releasing a breath. When they opened them, the hero's gaze was locked on them. The villain nearly jumped. The hero's stare was dark, boring into them with a drill-like precision, fierce and hard enough that the hairs on the back of the villain's neck stood on end.

They'd seen that stare before. Just the once.

And what had followed...

They through caution to the wind and crossed the room to the hero's side, kneeling in front of them and taking the hero's jaw firmly in their hands.

They had come expecting tears. Heartbreak. Something they could soothe and console and hold the hero through, perhaps, though the two of them would never speak of it again.

They should have known better.

"I know you want to kill them-"

"-Don't." The hero's voice was raspy, but unforgiving. They let the scrap of clothing fall to the floor, like it was nothing, and not the red flag of a bull fight screaming. "Don't try and stop me."

"You try and stop me. Every time."

"I'm not you."

"No," the villain agreed. Calm against the tempest. They dug their nails a little harder into the hero's skin, grounding. "They actually looked up to you."

"Fuck you."

"I'm not suggesting you don't seek vengeance," the villain said. "I'm merely suggesting you be smart about it. But that's another matter."

The hero bared their teeth, though they hadn't lashed out yet despite the dark look in their eyes, so the villain was definitely taking that as a win.

The villain caressed their cheek; wishing they could find some joy in the corruption of it, in the proof of what so many good people were willing to do in the name of grief and justice.

They couldn't.

Not when the hero looked like that. So hollow. Like if the villain simply scraped out the fury, softened the sizzling hatred a bit, let time heal the hurting, there would be nothing left all.

"Do I need to tell you that it wasn't your fault?" the villain asked.

"I know whose fault it was!"

"Good."

"Are you going to try and stop me?"

"Tonight, yes. Tomorrow...that's on you."

"You didn't even like them."

The villain shrugged. They both knew liking someone wasn't the same as respecting them, and certainly they weren't convinced the sidekick wouldn't come back as a poltergeist if the villain let the hero loose to lay carnage on the very night they died.

No. The villain didn't even like them, but they did like the hero, and they knew what the hero's sidekick would want them to do.

"Is that why you came here?" the hero demanded.

"No. Unhappy coincidence. I came to check on you."

The hero finally wrenched their head free, chair scraping as they surged to their feet. "I don't need checking up on. I'm fine. I'll be fine when I feed that bastard their own windpipe."

There were many things the villain could have said to that, and would have said to that, on any other night. As it was, they watched the hero. Watched the shaking volcano of them, the tremors and ever more devastating fragility of something that might just shatter completely.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," the hero snarled. "And don't you dare say that it's okay for me to be angry."

The villain shut their mouth. About to say just that, and more.

The hero shook their head. They slumped back into their seat, in perfect stillness, as quickly as they'd moved.

"Tomorrow," they said. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow. If that's what you truly want. Then I'll help you kill the bastard myself."

The hero reached for the scrap of material again, tucking it close against their chest, head bowed. Their fingers continued to tremble. The villain was not stupid enough to consider it weakness.

Tomorrow.

The villain would pick up the pieces after that.

[sas-soulwriter]

Dark writing prompts

Some dark writing prompts for the cold winter days :) Number five is my favorite. I wrote a short story about it once. Which one is your favorite?

In a world where emotions are harvested as a powerful energy source, a secret society emerges, exploiting the pain and suffering of individuals to fuel their dark ambitions.

A mysterious antique mirror appears in an old, abandoned house. Anyone who gazes into it experiences glimpses of their worst fears coming to life. What happens when the mirror falls into the wrong hands?

In a dystopian future, a government experiment to control crime goes horribly wrong. Citizens start experiencing their darkest impulses as physical manifestations, leading to chaos and destruction.

A cursed town is shrouded in perpetual darkness, and every year, a single resident must willingly sacrifice themselves to lift the curse for a brief moment. This year, the chosen one has a secret that could change everything.

A talented artist discovers that their paintings have the power to alter reality. However, with each stroke of the brush, a piece of their soul is consumed, leaving them on the brink of madness.

A small community is plagued by a series of unexplainable events, each linked to a children's nursery rhyme. As the rhyme predicts the next tragedy, the townsfolk desperately try to break the curse before it claims them all.

A scientist creates a device that allows people to relive their happiest memories. However, as they delve deeper into the technology, they uncover a hidden layer of forgotten, traumatic experiences that could shatter lives.

In a post-apocalyptic world, survivors discover an underground bunker containing a mysterious machine that claims to offer a chance at resurrection. However, the price to bring someone back is the sacrifice of another life.

A cursed book is said to grant its reader unimaginable knowledge, but at the cost of their sanity. As a desperate scholar seeks its pages, they must confront the malevolent entity within that hungers for their mind.

A detective investigates a series of gruesome murders that seem to be connected by a chilling pattern. As they get closer to the truth, they realize the killer might be something otherworldly, feeding on the fear they instill in their victims.

[the-broken-pen]

The hero was getting blood all over the villains nice jacket.

“I’m sorry about the blood—“ they murmured, and the villain hushed them.

“We’re almost there. Just—just stay still, okay?”

If the hero didn’t know better, they’d say the villain almost sounded afraid.

“It’s okay. M’fine.”

The villain breathed a harsh laugh, cradling the hero to their chest as they walked.

“Yes, you certainly look fine bleeding everywhere.”

There was that tone again. The hero frowned. The villain had never used that tone, especially not with them, and they had no idea what it was—

They barged into the villains apartment, as the hero realized the villain was concerned.

Oh.

The villain set them down on a couch, gently, but the hero still flinched. The villain apologized, soft and gentle, and ran their hand over the wound, assessing the damage.

The villains face went carefully blank.

The hero’s head spun, just a little, and they closed their eyes to fight it off. A moment later, they opened them to find the villain wrapping their side.

Their eyebrows crinkled.

“You—when did you get those?” Their voice cracked.

The villain looked up at them.

“Just a minute ago. You passed out,” they said calmly.

Their fingers continued deftly wrapping the bandage on the hero’s side.

“Wait. Why are you,” the hero grit their teeth as the villain brushed against the wound. “Why are you helping me.”

The villain laughed.

“For someone so observant, you miss a lot of things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The villain shook their head.

“I knew you were a bit obtuse, but darling, really. Work with me.”

They tied off the bandages, helping the hero sit up against the arm of the couch. The villain held their gaze, cool and collected and concerned, all at once.

“Your powers stem from emotions, yes?”

The hero nodded, once.

“So positive emotions make you stronger. They can heal you, right?”

The hero had tried to keep that bit of information under wraps. Not only could they heal themselves if they were happy, they could heal anyone. They didn’t want to end up some tool to be used in some military stronghold. Still, they healed civilians when no one was looking.

If they were mad, though? They could destroy anything, tear concrete in half, send metal into dust.

The hero cleared their throat. “Yes. Positive emotions can heal me. Not feeling super happy right now, so I’ll get back to you on that—“

The villain sat back on their heels.

“Do you trust me?”

The hero blinked at them. They were ready to give them some bullshit answer about how they could never trust the villain and never would; but that wasn’t true. The villain had saved them, more times than they could count.

And between the agency and the villain? Well, the hero knew who they would choose.

“Yes,” they said hesitantly, and the villain kissed them.

Warmth flooded them, and they reached for the villain, tugging them closer, and the villain smiled against their mouth.

The wound on their side began to close, and the villain felt it. They smiled, pleased with themself, like a cat.

“I give you positive emotions, huh,” they said, still grinning.

“For someone so observant, you can be so obtuse—“ the villain kissed them, again, to get them to shut up. This time, the hero smiled.

The wound closed further.

“I didn’t know you liked me,” the hero murmured.”

“I tolerate you. I just happen to hate everyone else.”

The hero laughed, side twinging with pain.

The villain checked the half closed wound, then turned back to the hero.

“Kiss it better?”

The villain rolled their eyes.

This time, when the villain kissed them, the hero didn’t let them stop.

[envysparkler]

“Cass is the favorite.”

Bruce paused in the hallway, head tilted in the direction of the kitchen.  He wasn’t aware that anyone was still up.

“Definitely.”

Bruce was aware that Tim had coordinated tonight’s patrol as Damian was sick with the flu and Bruce was laid up with a couple of injuries—they must’ve just gotten back.

“She can read everything on his face and he never has to say a word—the old man must’ve been thrilled when he found her.”

Bruce frowned.  His plan to return to his bedroom was put on hold as he lurked in the shadow of the den, listening carefully.

“And…Dick is the next favorite.”

“Of course, he’s the Golden Boy.  Follows orders like the perfect soldier.”  There was a dark twist of bitterness to the words.

“Tim’s next.”

“No, it’s definitely Babs.  She’s actually good at her job.”

“Nah, I have to go with Steph.  Babs calls B out on his bullshit.  You, baby bird, melt into the shadows and don’t make a peep.”

“Tim, then Babs.”  When he heard the scratching of pencil on paper, Bruce realized they were actually writing this down.

“Then the demon brat.”

“Depending on what kind of scene he’s caused in the past week.”  A laugh, low and not very amused.

“Then me and Jason.  The outsiders.  Last on the list.”

A scoff.  “No, Blondie, then you.  I’m not on this fucking list.”

“Jason—”

“We’re ranking his kids remember?  Not the vaguely estranged undead mob boss that comes to bail your asses out of trouble.”

“You’re his son, Jason.”  Bruce was gripping the door frame so hard his dislocated shoulder twinged.

“All evidence says otherwise.”

“Well, I’m not his kid either.  So I guess both me and Jason are off this list.”

“You’re his kid, Blondie.  You have a room in this house.”

“I don’t use it.”

“Neither does little Red, and he’s the one running the company.”

“You have a room here too, Jason.”

“No, I have a fucking shrine to the fifteen-year-old kid who was murdered in Ethiopia.”

It landed flat and whatever camaraderie had been underneath the bitterness and snark dissipated instantly.  It left a heavy tension in the air.

“I don’t want it anyway.  Look what happens to the poor bastards at the top of the list.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cass—dear, darling, favorite Cass.  She disappears whenever anyone is talking to B.  Probably too painful to watch.”

“I hadn’t noticed that.”  Quiet.  Guilty.

“And the Golden Boy.  Trying to hold the family together while everybody in it tears it apart.  Timbo here, who’s hoping that if he slinks further into the shadows everyone might actually forget he exists.”

“Hey, I don’t—”

“Babs is stuck working for a boss who constantly undermines her, the demon brat doesn’t know if he should be listening to Dick or Bruce, and you, Blondie, for the great honor of being last on the list, are the only one of us that actually managed to slap B.”

[unforgivenn]

Villain hummed softly, his eyes fixeted on the glinting blade in his hand, as if it were an ancient artifact. With a deliberate slowness, he lifted his head just enough to catch the gaze of the hero, whose face had dropped in despair.

A small, twisted smile crept across the villain's lips as he wiped a trickle of blood from the knife's edge. "Every scream," he began, his voice a chilling whisper that sent shivers down the hero's spine. The hero flinched at the sudden sound, their fear palpable in the air.

"Every tear." Villain continued, closing the distance between him and hero where they were tied up, helpless and at their mercy.

"Every single ounce of pain you endure" He put force into his words, suddenly gripping hero's jaw, forcing them to meet his gaze. The hero's frozen pale face bore with bruises, cuts and dried tears of previous tortures they endured from villain's hands.

"All of it that you endure" Villain murmured, his voice low and menacing. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against the hero's ear, ensuring that every word he said cut through the silence like a blade.

"Only brings me closer to my ultimate victory"

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hello!!! I love with your writing!

I was wondering if you could do a trope where the villain and the hero are dating as civilians, but when the hero and villain get into a huge fight, where hero is badly hurt, villain takes off there mask to reveal there lover!

“Fuck.” The villain had noticed it earlier, right before everything had gone to shit. A part of the hero’s mask had been destroyed. With blood streaming down their face, the villain hadn’t recognised them right away but when they had, they had pulled their punches.

They had wanted to throw up. To wake up from this horrible nightmare. But there was no escape.

Not when the hero was fighting with their bare hands and a primal hatred that was alien to the villain.

“Fuck, no. No. No.” The villain took off their mask and the hero’s eyes widened. They were barely breathing. “Please.”

The villain pulled them onto their lap and when they realised the hero wasn’t fighting back anymore, they were truly terrified. They were moaning quietly, sounding more like an animal than a person.

“I’m so sorry,” the villain whispered. They pulled their lover close to their chest and wished both had stayed home tonight. Wish they had put on a movie or fallen asleep in each other’s arms. “What have I done?”

Quickly, their sobs followed. Should they call an ambulance and risk revealing their lover’s identity? The villain knew the hero would never forgive them but even if this meant the end of their relationship, even if the hero hated them and wanted them dead, they had to save them. They had to save their hero.

With shaky fingers, the villain managed to take out their phone and dial the number. When the hero’s fingers dug weakly into their arm, they knew the hero didn’t want them to do this but the villain had no choice.

Their trembling voice could barely name the street they were on when the operator asked them for any kind of information. Not only their broken bones but also their rising panic attack made it difficult to think clearly. Once the person on the other end promised them an ambulance, the villain dared to hope.

Eventually, they hung up and prayed the next minutes would go by fast.

However, they only seemed to stretch like chewing gum.

“I swear, I didn’t know it was you. I — I would have stopped, I would have never done this—” the villain said between sobs. They took the hero’s hand and looked at them, the exhaustion deeply carved into the both of them. The villain didn’t know which bones exactly they had broken and which effects that was forcing. “Please, if you can hear me, please just…you’ll get help soon, I—”

The hero’s eyes stared at them, almost as if they were dead already. They didn’t talk, they barely moved. All they were seemingly able to do was recognise the villain and simply stare. It was heartbreaking.

It had been such a stupid fight. Something about some codes, the villain couldn’t even remember.

“I love you,” the villain whispered. “I don’t care that we’re enemies, I still love you.”

The hero didn’t answer.

So, the villain pressed a kiss to their forehead.

“I love you,” they repeated. “Please don’t leave me, please, I’m begging you.”

Their hands were holding onto the hero as if they were a lifeline. If they lost their lover now, if they lost the only person that could calm them down from panic attacks, the only person they didn’t have nightmares with, a person so unbelievably kind and soul-cleansing — if they lost them now, the villain feared they would shatter like a porcelain dish within seconds.

Was there even a purpose without their lover?

Wasn’t this the hero’s world and the villain was just living in it?

“I can’t do this without you,” the villain said. “Please.”

When the hero was still unresponsive, the villain checked their pulse.

Their eyes widened.

And then the villain started with CPR.

[thepenultimateword]

Absentminded

“Good morning, love,” Civilian beamed.

Villain slumped groggily on the stair rail, rubbing the leftover sleep from their eyes. “What’s got you so chipper?”

“I don’t know.” Civilian threw themselves around their neck. “Just woke up extra happy I guess.”

Villain trudged toward the table, but Civilian didn’t loosen their grip, stepping with them until they plopped into a kitchen chair.

“You going to give me any breathing space?” Villain said, even as they gathered Civilian into their lap. They were always a little resistant to affection first thing in the morning. Civilian was pretty sure they got shy. Almost like each day was a restart of their first, like they had to be sure Civilian was talking to them. It was sweet.

They shook their head into their collar. “Mm-mm.”

Villain gave them a gentle squeeze around the waist. “Just how happy are you?”

“Brimming. Overflowing. Oh! I made breakfast!”

They hopped out of Villain’s arms and swept a great plate of chocolate chips pancakes from the counter.

“You’re pancake happy?” Villain said a little surprise in their tone. “You usually only get pancake happy on your birthday or our anniversary.” They stiffened. “It’s not our anniversary is it?”

Civilian smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Villain’s shoulder. “No. It’s sort of weird I suppose. I just woke up early this morning and I was looking at you—“

“Creep.”

“Shut up.” Civilian punched them in the shoulder. “I was looking at you, and I just started thinking how happy I am that I found you. You know from the moment we met…it was like I knew you. Like I’d always known you. I guess that’s how I figured it out.”

“Figured out what, my heart?”

“That we were meant to be together.”

Villain’s smile froze, thawed into a sort of grimace, then froze again wider. A sort of thin, strained thing, like a wash rag wrung out too many times.

Civilian backtracked. “That’s cheesy isn’t it?”

“No! No! It’s wonderful! I just feel guilty! You knew much sooner than I did. I let you chase after me for far too long. I don’t…I don’t always think I deserve you.”

Civilian grinned. “I didn’t mind. You’re just more cautious. I like that about you.”

They kissed Villain’s cheek and plopped down in the seat beside them, dividing pancakes between their plates. Villain’s eyes followed their movements as they slathered the stack with butter and cream and doused it all in syrup.

“How’s work? Any schemes planned for the day?”

Villain cut their stack in section and skewered three pancake pieces on their fork. “Not until evening, but I have to leave in a couple hours to organize it. It’s a museum heist, so I’ll be home a little late.”

Civilian nodded. “Are things smoother for you without Hero around?”

Villain choked on their breakfast. Civilian leaped for the pitcher, messily pouring a glass of water, and shoving it into Villain’s hand, then rubbing their lover’s back as they chugged it down.

“Hero?” Villain croaked once they had a hold of themselves. “Why are you thinking about them all of a sudden?”

Civilian didn’t stop rubbing their back. “I saw on the news they’re putting up a memorial statue in the park this afternoon. It’s been three years since they went missing, right? How well did you know them?”

“Fairly well.”

“Oooh?” Civilian rose their eyebrows.

“Not like that. I don’t know. We just fought. It wasn’t like we actually knew knew each other.”

Civilian nodded idly. That was about what they had expected. It was just their reactions around mentions of Hero were somewhat guarded. They supposed one didn’t have to be close to somebody to be struck by their loss. “What do you think happened?”

“They probably just settled down.”

“You think they’re ok?” It was the first they’d heard that theory, most everyone thought the vigilante was dead or kidnapped or undercover.

Villain nodded. “They weren’t the type to let someone get the jump on them. Besides they were always miserable as a hero.”

Civilian cocked their head.

“They were just always exhausted and angry and breaking down. I don’t think they liked being a hero, even if they were good at it. Anyway…” Villain ate the last bite of pancake and stretched their arms over their head as they rose. “I better get dressed and get going. What are you doing today?”

“Just grocery shopping,” Civilian said. “I’m going to make orange chicken for dinner.”

“Stop spoiling me,” Villain said, kissing them first on the head.

“I guess I just can’t help it. …I love you.”

Villain hesitated, but eventually, they took Civilian’s face in their hands and pressed a long kiss to their lips. “I love you too.”

***

Civilian swung the grocery bags in rhythm with their steps. The music blasting from the speakers in the square had them swaying and skipping like a dance more than a walk. A crowd of people were gathered across the street, some dressed in blue masks and capes.

Right. The unveiling.

Civilian idly crossed the street toward the crowd. They couldn’t stay long—they had ice cream in their bag—but they couldn’t say they were uninterested in this memorial. Hero intrigued them. What sort of person was willing to sacrifice so much for other people? Even after they disappeared, they were still making an impact. There was something sort of amazing and sad about all that.

The music died down and the microphone squealed in the hands of a smartly dressed woman in a grey pencil skirt and puffy, white blouse standing on the steps in front of the covered statue.

A dull pain started behind Civilian’s eyes. Was getting up so early affecting them?

“Welcome, everyone. I appreciate you all coming out this afternoon for Hero’s statue unveiling. Hero was my friend. No, more than that. They were my mentor. And I was with them the night they disappeared. You've probably all read the story. We got a call for help at an old factory, and Hero ran ahead.

“I was only a few feet behind when I saw a flash of light through the windows. When I got inside, Hero was gone. I never saw them again. Sometimes I still expect them to turn a corner or walk onto our old training grounds. To come back into my life.”

The pain spread up into Civilian’s forehead and temples, a throbbing sensation like someone knocking on a door to get in. Or maybe to get out.

Civilian clutched the side of their face. What was going on? A really bad migraine? They probably should just head home for some pain medication and lie down. And yet…they couldn’t seem to move. They picture the scene the woman had described clearly. Almost like each painful throb was focusing the picture clearer in their head. Had they been to the same factory? Maybe they’d seen a picture in the news when Hero first went missing.

The woman stared out across the crowd.

"It left me wondering, what do we do when the person who does the saving needs saved?" She paused. "We step up. We become the heroes. Hero inspired me to be better; they wanted all of us to be better. And today we honor their belief that ‘everyone possesses a little bit of heroism; they just have to be brave enough to use it.’”

Another stab of pain, worse than the others. Almost like their skull was being ripped in two. A scream pushed up their throat, lying threateningly just behind their teeth.

Villain. They should call Villain. They dropped one grocery sack and fumbled for their phone.

“Hero was always secretive about their identity,” the woman continued in the background, “but for the first time, I would like to share with you all the face of a hero. I would like to give them the honor and credit they deserve. Ladies and gentleman…our Hero.”

The sheet dropped.

Civilian’s scream was lost in the ecstatic shouts and applause. They dropped to their knees, legs and heads and bags blocking everything the bright spots flashing across their vision did not. For moment all they could do was tuck their head into their chest against the concrete and wait, trembling fingers still a button click away from calling Villain.

After what seemed like forever, the pain dulled and they were able to stumble upright.

Slowly, they blinked the blur from their eyes, taking in the horror of what they now already knew: the statue wore their face.

***

Villain flicked on the hall lights just after midnight.

Hero sat at the center of the room, kitchen chair dragged right into the entryway.

“Sweetheart?” Villain blinked a few times. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?” They seemed to quickly read the wrongness in their face. “Is this about missing dinner? I’m sorry, I should have called, but—”

“I’m Hero.”

Villain froze. Reddened. Paled. Ever the chameleon.

“Ah, so you did know.” They weren’t sure if that was better or worse. If Villain had fallen in love with them as a civilian maybe Hero could have excused them and saved some of the aching, quivering shards of their broken heart. But knowing that the deception had been intentional, well, now Hero had the freedom to explode.

“How did you…?” Villain swallowed. “Do you remember everything?”

“Not everything, but I remember you. And I remember me. And enough events between us to know this never should have happened.”

Villain took a step forward, and immediately, Hero stood to take a step back. Another step forward. Another step back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Until Hero was up against the wall and Villain only an arms length apart.

“We can talk about this,” Villain said, outstretching their hand.

Hero only stared.

“In what world is this getting solved with a talk? Our entire relationship, the entire three years we’ve been together, are a lie.”

“But you’re happy! You said it yourself! You’re brimming with happiness! Overflowing with happiness! With me!”

Hero slammed their fist into the wall behind them.“Happy? You took advantage of me! Manipulated me!”

At that, Villain looked affronted. “I didn’t manipulate anyone! You approached me that night! I tried to send you away; I tried multiple times to avoid you; you didn’t want to. And when I did give in, I never pretended to be anyone other than I am. I even told you what I do, and you were all too accepting, like you’d dealt with it every day.”

“Because I had!”

“Then what was I supposed to do?” Villain cried, throwing their hands in the air.

“You could have told me!”

“That would have defeated the point!”

Hero went rigid. Villain covered their mouth. Their eyes plead for mercy Hero was not capable of giving.

“You did this?”

Villain’s lip trembled. “It was meant to be temporary. A few hours. I didn’t know it was going to last three years! I tried to make it right at first! I tried to trigger memories or to come up with some sort of reversal machine, but I couldn’t figure it out, and meanwhile, you kept coming and coming and you just seemed happier this way! And things got so good, I got scared of ruining it!”

Hero stared them down, waiting for the ramble to sputter out. Their reply was slow and cold.

“You gave me amnesia and then made me love you!”

“I didn’t make you love me.” They took Hero’s chin. “It just happened.”

And that was what hurt the most. Hero couldn’t deny it. No matter the false circumstances or how their returned memories rebelled, the feelings had been real. But veracity did not make any of it alright.”

“Then I guess this is where it ends.” Hero smiled weakly. “Goodbye, Villain.”

They felt past feeling as they edged around their lover ex-lover nemesis’s shocked form, picking up their bag, packed and ready for the last six hours, at the door.

“Hero!” Villain lurched forward, seizing them by the wrist and yanking them around. Their other hand tangled in their hair as the pulled into a desperate kiss, gruff and noxious and pleading.

Hero stomped hard on their foot, ripping away as Villain yowled and fell back. The criminal barely allowed the pain a second thought, scrambling after Hero’s determined stride.

“Hero! Hero, I love you! I love you, I love you, I love—”

“You do not!” Hero shouted. Regrettably some emotion edged in on their fury; a few tears slid down their cheek. “You loved a version of me. A dead one. A made up one. Maybe I made them up. But they are not me.”

They stormed out without another word, leaving Villain crumpled and weeping on the floor.

Master Taglist

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn

[ghost-bxrd]

—————-

“If you got this far and I didn’t pick up I’m probably dead or don’t wanna talk to you. You can leave a message but I probably won’t call back. If you’re Dick: Fuck you, Big Bird. Jason out.”

Tim breathes a quiet laugh, hand shaking where it’s gripping the rusty fire escape too hard.

Tonight’s the end. He can’t back out. Batman will be here any moment now.

“Hey Jason,” he starts, stops, bites his lip nervously when a stray cat topples an empty can of tuna, “I just— Wow ok, this is weird. But I want you to know that I’ll fix this.”

Unless he gets killed first. That’s always a valid concern when you’re jumping into fights with a black sweater and a ski mask covering the lower half of your face. But Batman had steadfastly ignored his petition to become Robin, so Tim’s hands are a bit tied here. You can’t just order kevlar and armor online.

Which sucks, by the way.

“I don’t know how yet,” he admits, thinking back on the increasing number of petty thugs ending up permanently disabled during the past three months. And the increasing number of times Batman kept going despite receiving serious injuries himself. “But I promise I’ll do it. For Gotham. For you.”

A commotion at the mouth of the alley makes Tim’s head fly up and he squints through the gloom as a group of rowdy looking figures saunters inside.

He ducks down quickly, breathing through his nose. His stomach feels like it’s having a fantastic tea time with a swarm of buzzing bees.

Ok. Any second now.

“I- I’ll keep you updated,” he whispers, finger already hovering over the end-call button in preparation before he hesitates.

“Thank you for being my Robin,” he adds, grimacing at the way his voice wobbles, “I wish you were still here.”

He almost smashes the phone in his haste to shut it off, shoving the mortification he feels deep, deep down. But it’s not like anybody is ever going to hear this, anyway. And it does feel good to finally have gotten this off his chest.

A shadow drops down from above to alarmed shouts and strangled cries that quickly morph into pained groans, and Tim has a split second to fight the instinctive “flight” response he’d honed over years of taking pictures of Batman and Robin before he grits his teeth and vaults over the railing of the fire escape, dropping to the ground right behind Batman with a chipper, “Hey, need a hand?”

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

------------

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[samandcolbyownme]

Sam had been focusing too much on working that he had ended up neglecting his relationship. You guys had planned to go out on a movie dinner date weeks in advance and already had dinner reservations set, he is too busy working to realize that the reservation was 30 minutes ago. Should you have reminded him? Yes. But you also feel like you shouldn't have to because if he cared then he would've put his work aside for a few hours to spend time with you. ANGSTTTTT but also fluff or smut at the end, dealers choice 😏

Warnings: Slightly angsty, strong language, reader breaking down, crying, yelling, suggestive language, kinda sad but happy ending

Enjoy!

══════════════════

Sam has missed reservation times. He’s been late to pick you up sometimes. He’s even had to cancel last minute, but you understood. For the most part, at least. You knew he had deadlines to make, people to update, plans to make, and flights to book.

Once the number of times he’s practically bailed on your reaches double digits, that’s when you really started to get mad. His reasonings, you’re sure were valid at the time, but you would get so mad you thought it was a bullshit excuse, so that just made you pissed.

You said something, you had a long talk one night, got on the same page again and everything was good, almost seemed better.

But only for a short while until things started to gradually trickle back into its cursed routine. You’d say something to him again, then it would just repeat the cycle. Back to square one with it. Finally, maybe after one or two more times, you gave up on what you felt like you just wasting your breath.

One night, while you’re laying in bed getting ready to go to sleep, Sam comes in after edited his one video for hours of the day. You feel the bed dip down and his body slides up against yours.

“I made us reservations at the Mitz, they couldn’t get us in until three weeks from now, so figure out what you want to do before or after and we can do that.”

You stay silent for a second before speaking. Your voice is in a very low whisper, “You promise?” He kisses your shoulder and nuzzles his head into your neck, “I promise. I’m sorry I haven’t been with it lately.”

“You and Colby have been busy. I get it.” You roll over to face him, “I guess.. I just feel like you forget I’m here sometimes.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” He kisses your forehead and you close your eyes, “I love you.” He rests his forehead against yours and lets out a quiet sigh, “I love you so much.”

Over the last three weeks, Sam and Colby surprisingly didn’t have much going on, so it worked out in everyone’s favor. You and Sam pretty much stayed home, and when he did edit, he made sure to include you.

Which is why, when that certain Thursday evening rolled around, you were absolutely crushed. It felt like, in a weird way, a betrayal. It really wasn’t that deep, but to you it was.

You scoffed as you hear the front door open, rolling your eyes as you look to the small clock on your vanity.

07:30 PM - 30 minutes past your set reservation time.

You drag the makeup wipe down your face, wiping away the hope you had painted on earlier in the evening. You can feel the burn growing in your eyes as you try not to cry.

You may think that two times isn’t bad, but it’s not really about the amount of times it’s happened. It’s more about how Sam doesn’t realize it’s happening. He doesn’t put up a fight, he just gradually buries you under all of his paperwork.

You hear him making his way up the steps and you know in your heart that it’s not going to be good. You take a deep breath, wiping over your face one more time with a clean wipe.

“So guess where Colby and I get to go next month.”

“Hmm?” You hum lowly, but loud enough for him to hear. You keep your stare fixed on yourself in the mirror in front of you. Sam walks closer and you feel every muscle in your body tense up.

You really didn’t want to fight with him - again.

“What’s wrong,” He asks, laying a hand on your shoulder. You were so mad at him, his touch only made the urge to cry even harder to fight back. You shake your head, “N-nothing.” You stand up, “I think I’m just gonna go get a bath and then go to bed.”

You grab a clean change of clothes and before you walk out, it’s hits Sam. He lets out a sigh, “Oh fuck.” You turn around, “Congratulations.” You give him a fake smile, “You figured out what’s wrong.”

“Y/n.” Sam calls out but you walk away. He follows after you, “Waitwaitwait.” He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him, “I am so.. so… sorry.” You tilt your head back resting it against the wall as you let out a slight laugh, “It doesn’t matter Sam.”

You look at him and his face falls, “W-What do you mean by that?” He stands up a little straight as you just simply shrug.

He shakes his head, “No. don’t say it. Please.” You chew on your lip as you feel the tears well, “I’m not..” you quickly swipe away the tears dripping down your flushed cheeks, “I’m not leaving, Sam. I just..”

You let your hands fall to your sides, and you just crack, spilling all of your emotions, “I need more, Sam. I-I know. I know that me getting upset over dates might be silly, but they’re important to me, Sam.” Your voice cracks and you look into Sam’s glossy eyes, “You’re everywhere, Sam. But you’re not here.”

You sniffle, voice cracking quietly, “And it’s hurts.”

He scrunches his nose and nods. You blink and the tears fall, “I shouldn’t h-have to be the one to remind you, fuck Sam. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“You’re right.” He mumbles quietly as he nods. You look up, sighing, “I do not want to end us, Sam. Please know that.” His hands slide to your waist, but you speak before he can, “We need alone time. We-we need time to just be a normal couple sometimes.”

You bring your hands to your eyes and just sob.

Sam pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he whispers how sorry he is, “You are the most important thing to me, okay?” He presses his lips to your temple and you nod, mumbling, “Mhm.” You’re trying to get your crying under control as Sam continues, “I’m so sorry I missed tonight, baby.”

He sniffles and that makes you cry harder, “I’m sorry.” You sob out and Sam cups your cheeks, “Hey.” He raises his voice slightly, catching your attention. He raises his brows and leans in, his voice calm, “You don’t ever need to be sorry about anything, okay?”

You nod and Sam shakes his head, “You did nothing wrong, okay? I deserve to be called out on my bullshit. You did the right thing.” He kisses your cheek, “You’re my number one priority, from here on out I promise I’m going to prove it to you every. Single. Day.”

You smile slightly and you feel yourself gradually calming down, “I just didn’t want do make you mad.” You sniffle out, gasping out for air because of how worked up you had yourself.

You were slightly embarrassed, but Sam really doesn’t seem like he’s judging you at all. He laughs slightly, “Trust me, it would take you doing something a lot more stupid than getting upset over me being a dumbass to be mad at you.” He smiles and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “I love you.”

You smile, looking up at him, “I love you, too.” You lean in, pressing your lips to his and you feel him smirk. His voice is quiet against your lips as he mumbles, “Is this a bad time to tell you that Colby and I want to bring you on to the channel. Take you with us on every investigation?”

You lean back, looking up at him, “What did you just say?” He scratches his forehead, “When I got home, I was going to tell you that Colby and I were talking and we both agreed that when you’re on investigations with us, they turn out so much better than when it is just us, so with that.. we did a little poll thing in XPLR club and it turns out that the fans want you to join us. just as much as Colby and I do.”

You stare at him for a few seconds before you gently push his shoulder, “you couldn’t have just led with that, babe?” You laugh, “I embarrassed myself infront of you for absolutely no reason.”

He shakes his head, “First off, don’t be embarrassed. Second off, you calling me out on stuff that bothers you shows me you care enough to communicate with me, and I honestly cannot tell you how much that means to me.”

You bite down on your lip, “You might not be able to tell me, but I think you just might be able to show me.” You raise your brows as you look up at Sam and he smirks, instantly lifting you up against the wall, “Where to?”

You smile, “Take me to bed.”

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