#AN X ON EVERY PART OF THE POST

[wildcatofgreen]

((the beta editor is worse than i thought. ive been so used to other people cropping shit for me because im a mobile pleb but now im not at my laptop and the trim reblogs extension does the DOUBLE REPLIES THING. ARGGGGG

((guys can we draft our posts before we trim them. please. i think at least if the double response thing happens it can be easily caught before being slapped onto the dash with another trim if theyre drafted.))

[sokkas-therapist]

NOBODY BOTHER ME the writers of the Boiling Rock episodes said that Sokka and Zuko fight like an old married couple

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

---

Imagine a Logan who didn't lose the X-men, who still has his "family," but who still has his walls sky high. Who is still an alcoholic (albeit less chronically than our Logan) and still keeps everyone at a distance despite craving company like a moth to a flame. Who purposely isolates himself, denying it under the guise of indifference, out of fear of rejection. Who tries to protect himself by building a fortress around himself only to result in nobody being able to scale those impenetrable walls.

Who has people around him (Jean, Scott, Charles) but still feels alone in the world. Who is physically present (showing up at dinnertime, attending meetings, occasionally completing missions alongside them) but emotionally absent. Who tries so hard to try to be there, to be emotionally open, to give back what he's received, but fails spectacularly.

And everyone else notices. But they don't say anything, afraid of breaking the careful balance that keeps Logan just close enough to touch but just far enough that their fingers only manage to graze him. And so they keep up this balancing act, getting used to the tenseness and slightly uncomfortable silences.

They resign themselves to it eventually. To only being able to climb halfway and receive messages through a window.

And Logan resigns himself to this loneliness too. In 200 years, nobody has managed to break through. Why would they be able to now?

Imagine this Logan meeting the current Wade.

Wade was sent on some kind of mission by the TVA to investigate a disturbance in the timeline of this universe. His Logan offered to join him, but he turned him down. He felt uneasy bringing Logan to a universe where his team was still alive, where everything was eerily similar to his original universe except for their fate. He didn't want Logan to have to go through the pain of seeing the life he "could've" had if he hadn't been the "Worst Wolverine." (And, on a deeper level, he felt scared that Logan would realize that he was never enough to fill that void.)

And so he left a very reluctant Logan behind to delve into this alternate universe.

He stumbled out of the portal into some inconspicuous alleyway, brushing the grime off his suit. Lo and behold, he's in a big bustling city that looks almost identical to his own.

It doesn't take him long to begin investigating, searching for what could've caused the disruption in the timeline. He'd planned for this to be a quick mission, a one-and-done, clean-cut resolution so that he could get home in time to eat whatever scraps Logan had somehow managed to assemble into a decent-looking meal.

He was looking forward to eating dinner with Logan and Blind Al. To pressing his leg against Logan's a bit too closely to be platonic—but not yet explicitly romantic—and feeding Mary Puppins under the table to Logan's protest.

And yet, after hours of searching for clues and interrogating mercenaries and shady guys who knew about underground operations, he was stumped.

And so, naturally, when the bad guys didn't have the information he wanted, he turned to the good guys.

Unfortunately, the Avengers weren't particularly active (at least publicly) at the moment, and so he turned to the very group he'd been hoping to avoid: the X-men.

Maybe breaking into their mansion through a window on a random Tuesday wasn't the best way to make an impression, but it got the job done.

However, the X-men seemed to disagree on that front, considering how the few that had been inside (barely any he recognized) were all tensing up and drawing their weapons.

"Woah woah woah," Wade put his hands up in the air placatingly, "Slow your roll. I'm not here to cause trouble for you guys. I know it looks bad but I promise I'm here for very important, very legit, very legal, reasons."

"...Reasons that require you to break and enter?" some random X-man Wade didn't care about asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Wade chirped. "I'm sure we're all very busy and I want to go home just as much as you all want to redecorate whatever the fuck this mansion aesthetic is."

"What's wrong with the aesthetic?" Colossus (finally, someone he recognized!) asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Don't worry about it, pal," Wade quickly deflected, "Anyway, straight to the point: do any of you guys know what the hell could be fucking up your timeline? Because, unfortunately, none of the assholes on the streets seem to know. And, even more unfortunately, I have to fix that."

"...What do you mean fucking up the timeline?" Jean asked, slowly.

"Well, it's a long story—"

—one that ended up with Wade sitting in the big bad office across from Charles Xavier, who took an obnoxiously sophisticated sip of his tea.

"So you're from another dimension," he starts with.

"Yup, born and raised, baby."

"...And you're here because you believe there's something wrong with this timeline?"

"You know it. Although I don't see why we're going through the whole questioning shebang when you can just read my mind and get it over with," Wade leans back in the chair, his tone flippant.

"Well—"

Before Charles can finish speaking, the doors loudly slam open to reveal a very real and very angry Wolverine.

"Where is the fucker who broke in?" he growls, claws unsheathed.

"Right here, buddy," Wade grins and waves.

"Why is he still here and not locked up?" Other-Logan's fiery eyes flick toward Charles.

"Because—"

"—Because I'm here to save your ass, Wolvie. I wasn't the one who messed up your universe and I sure as hell wasn't the one who pissed in your cereal this morning, considering I, y'know, wasn't here."

Wolverine looks slightly taken aback at the audacity of Wade taunting him after breaking and entering.

"Now, not that I don't enjoy some eye candy—I really do, trust me—but can we finish this shit up so I can get back to my universe?" Wade eyed the tense, battle-braced posture Other-Logan was sporting, "And holy shit, peanut, we can try out pain play later but let's save the kinks for the bedroom, yeah? Put those claws away for now."

Wolverine looks like he's about to choke him or choke himself with the way he's clenching his fists in... anger? incredulity? Something to that effect.

And so began their very real, very legit, very spectacular journey to save the timeline! Unfortunately, the other X-men apparently had better shit to do (lazy fuckers), and so while they were out on their own pre-determined missions, Wolverine and Deadpool had to work together. Again. (Well, "again" for one of them.)

And it was going... okay. Surprisingly. They'd managed to locate a few places with suspicious activity using the X-men's network and while Wade would probably have to wait on that homemade dinner, the mission wasn't a total disaster so far (which was better than he could say for last time).

Except, there were a few... slip-ups.

It started when The Wolverine (because he wasn't His Logan, not to Wade) and Deadpool (because he wasn't His Wade either) were out raiding some base that had suspicious activity around when the timeline started having issues. They hadn't uncovered anything substantial so far, but there was definitely something shady going on. Call it a Spidey Sense.

Wolverine was slaughtering some enemies after threatening them within an inch of their life to spill their secrets, as usual, when one henchman (a mutant of some type, judging by the inhuman speed at which he moved) attacked him from behind. Wade didn't even have time to think, all he saw was Logan getting attacked and in an instant, he'd crossed the distance and embedded a katana in the fucker's head.

He knew Logan would heal. He did. But it didn't make it easier to look at him, bloodied and bruised, and not want to murder the person who caused it. It reminded him too much of the way Wade found Logan—reckless and suicidal, resigned to drinking himself to death and not caring how hurt he was.

(And, more than that, he just hated to see him in pain. He liked to think it was reciprocal, by the way Logan would slice someone into fucked up organ confetti the second they managed to land a good hit on Wade. He was always a bit more wound up on those nights, a barely tampered rage in his eyes and snarl to his lips that didn't subside until they were back in the apartment, out of their suits, where wounds stitched themselves up. Logan still had a shakiness to him, sometimes, until the injuries were fully gone. He'd thumb at a slash on his arm until the skin was back to the typical scar tissue instead of a distinct cut.)

Wolverine looked back to see Deadpool on top of the mangled corpse.

"Just doing my job," Deadpool said cheerily, trying not to let his voice waver.

"...Sure, bub," Wolverine muttered, eyeing him a second longer before going back to whoever he was torturing.

Fuck.

And then it happened again.

They were taking a breather in the facility they'd just raided, sitting down to catch their breaths and compile their findings before setting off to the next one.

Wolverine was digging through some medkits nearby, despite being healed.

"Woah buddy," Deadpool started, "Don't you think it's a bit early to be getting drunk? I mean, I'm all for freedom of choice, but I don't think the Founding Fathers thought that choice would mean drinking straight rubbing alcohol."

Wolverine stopped, his muscles stiffening.

"...What makes you think I'm looking for rubbing alcohol?" he asked slowly, a tenseness to his voice that was separate from the normal level of annoyance.

Wade quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, y'know, a hunch. I have a sixth sense. Like Spiderman. But cooler! Like instead of a Spidey Sense I have a... uhhh... Deadpool Danger Detonator?"

Wolverine looked at him suspiciously as he continued to ramble, but eventually let it go. Thank god.

And again.

They were fighting some higher-level henchmen, for once. Seems that their trail was finally leading somewhere. These guys were fewer in numbers, but actually packed some bang for their buck and all seemed to have decently strong mutations and some weapons training.

Now, Logan and Wade frequently went on missions together. In fact, at this point, they almost exclusively did jobs together. (It was part of the reason it'd been so difficult to convince Logan to let this job go. It had become routine at this point to go together, to be a Package Deal, Two Parts of a Set, Partners.)

(He'd noticed how Logan would pace anxiously when he went on more dangerous missions by himself. How he'd try and fail to distract himself and inevitably end up on the couch, tense and waiting for Wade to come home before finally, finally, letting out a deep breath and letting his muscles unwind as Wade flopped down next to him. He knew and yet he just... couldn't... this time.)

Suffice to say, Wade knew Logan's attack patterns. He knew where he'd strike and the openings he'd leave and how to cover them. He'd fought him enough himself to tell when he'd use a feint and when he'd actually go for the kill.

And so, when they were pushed back to back, surrounded on all sides, Wade let himself fall into the natural rhythm of it all. Weaving in and out between Wolverine's attacks, throwing knives where he'd miss with his claws, covering his back, and doing a masterful job at eliminating the enemies.

And Wolverine noticed. Because of course he did. He'd glanced at Wade with something akin to surprise (or even recognition) a few times when he'd managed to match him precisely.

But it felt oddly... good to be matched. Wolverine was used to working alone, to having backup but never really working alongside someone else. He fought on the same team as the X-men, yes, and they did sometimes go on joint missions together, but he never felt equal to them. Like he could throw a punch and they'd match him exactly.

He was used to leading the group, to being on the front lines of the attack, to splitting off and doing his own thing. He'd never felt this type of ease when working with someone. Like he didn't have to glance over his shoulder to check their work or see if they'd been hurt.

And so, as they fell into a comfortable rhythm, Logan found himself smiling. A feral, gleeful thing.

At the joy of finally having a match. The animalistic thrill of getting to play with his prey together without the other person shying away or shutting him down.

Logan always had to toe the line between human and animal. Giving in just enough to his animal instincts to make him a useful tool, a sharp weapon, while still retaining his humanity enough to be palatable. He could never just let go and be both. Let the line disappear in the sand as he dipped his toes in and out of the tides without feeling like someone was yanking him back or further in.

For the first time in his 200 years of existence, Logan felt free.

(When he finally came down from the adrenaline high, he looked at Wade with an indescribable expression. If Wade didn't know better, he'd almost say it looked like awe.)

And again.

They were bickering over something stupid. It doesn't matter how it started, only that now they both were bristling with annoyance and had their pride on the line.

"Can you shut the fuck up?" Wolverine growled, clenching his hands tightly.

"Or what? Is the kitty gonna unsheathe his claws?" Deadpool goaded, "Are you going to shish-kebab me? Stab me?"

"And if I do?" A challenging spark entered Logan's eyes.

"Been there, done that, honey badger. You'll have to get realllllll creative to top the Honda Odyssey," Wade smirked.

"What the hell does a car have to do with me murdering you?"

Deadpool blinked. Once. Twice. "Oh yeah, you wouldn't know that reference. Bummer. The point is, you aren't going to get anything out of impaling me. Except for the rise of a different type of weapon. If you get what I mean."

Wolverine gruffly retorted with some petty insult, but the searching look in his eyes didn't fade.

And again.

"C'mon Wolvie, you know I like it when you penetrate me, but let's try something new for a change, yeah? How about you hold me tenderly instead—" (Wolverine had never impaled him once.)

And again.

"Or what? What are you gonna say? 'Hey bub, I'm Wolverine, I'm The X-man and I'm masculine and I like woodworking and being a lumberjack in the forests of Canada.'" (Wolverine had never revealed that. To anyone, actually.)

And again.

"You know, maybe instead of drinking anything available, you can wait and I'll buy you some of the good stuff. I'll get you some beer and whisky on the house as long as you brave the very hard journey of staying sober for more than ten fucking minutes." (Wolverine had never told him his taste in alcohol.)

Until, finally—

"You know me."

"What?"

"You know me." It was a statement, not a question. Wolverine was looking at him with that same look in his eyes. The one he'd had since their first fight together where Deadpool had freaked the fuck out over someone nearly stabbing him.

"I sure hope I do, considering we've been working together for two days now," Deadpool chuckled, averting his eyes.

"No. You know me. You know me." Logan had a type of vulnerability in his eyes, one that he hadn't seen since he'd left his Logan behind.

"...What do you mean?" Wade asked, reluctantly.

"You know things about me that you shouldn't. But you couldn't have gotten it from anyone because nobody else knows them either. You know how I fight. What my habits are. What I like. What I hate. Therefore, you know me," he said, and that might be the most words Wade has ever heard this Logan speak at one time.

And Wade wants to deny it, if just to hurry along this mission and avoid the emotional turmoil of confronting his feelings with a Logan that isn't even his. But he sees the earnest look in Logan's eyes and he can't just ignore it. Can't deflect like he would for anyone else.

"...You're right, I do know you."

"How?" Logan's eyes are piercing, searching for answers. Desperately, almost. Like a man stranded in the desert, insatiably thirsty, who just learned that there's an oasis.

So Wade tells him. A short version, anyway. Tells him about snatching his Logan from another universe, getting thrown into the void, and then working together to save his world. Tells him about asking Logan to stay, and how they've been living together since. How they go on missions together and make dinner together and watch shitty reality TV together with Blind Al and their dog.

(Doesn't tell him how he refused to let his Logan come along, that he wanted to, that he'd do anything to keep his Logan with him even if it hurts to be away.)

Finally, the inevitable question comes up: "Why did Logan abandon his universe?"

And Wade tells him that too.

And Logan... doesn't know how to feel.

A part of him feels horrified. That there's a universe out there where he failed the X-men so horrendously. Where he drank himself into a stupor and stumbled back in to find them dead. Where he lived his entire life denying that he cares and building up his walls only for him to crumble anyway when they're gone (only for him to have nothing to reminisce on because of it).

But a larger part of him (a shameful, bitter part of him) feels envy curling around his chest, squeezing his heart and constricting his throat until he's barely able to breathe.

Because of course, it'd take losing everything that mattered to him right now to be able to find what he's been missing this whole time. He couldn't just be happy with the X-men, he had to be selfish and want more despite all they've done for him.

A greedy, wretched part of him thinks it'd be worth it. To throw it all away just so that he could have someone like Wade who talks about him not as a colleague, not as a teammate, but with a fondness so evident he could choke on it. Someone who knows Logan, not The Wolverine. Who cares about the little details like how he furrows his brow and what his favorite drink is and the exact pitch his voice takes when he genuinely laughs instead of just how quick he can kill enemies.

Someone who knows him as Logan—a selfish, possessive, scared, pathetic, insecure, asshole—and still wants him. Still loves him.

He's always had to hide parts of himself. Always had to don a mask of stoicism, careful indifference, and harsh words. Because then, people would hate him for that. They would push him away because he was rude, he was callous, he was brutal, but they wouldn't look deeper.

Because if Logan bared himself to someone as he is, vulnerable and terrified of losing those he loves, and they rejected him?

It'd be a worse fate than death.

But here Wade was, talking about him—as a person, not a hero—and smiling so visibly Logan can tell behind the mask, speaking of him warmly even when remembering how they used to fight.

Logan feels something unfamiliar in his gut. A concoction of jealousy, hatred, and... relief. Happiness. Possessiveness, even.

That he could be seen and loved despite it.

Logan knows what love feels like. Knows how it feels to care about people, despite how he acts. He knows how to feel protective and worried.

He's felt attraction before. To Jean, who had soft skin and a pretty smile and who always showed courage in the face of danger. To Scott, even, who commanded with a strength in his voice that sometimes had heat running through Logan's veins.

This is different.

This isn't just love. Isn't just attraction. It's yearning—awful, honest, raw yearning for something he desperately wanted but knew he couldn't have. Knew he shouldn't have.

But he wanted it. He'd felt empty for so long, even surrounded by people, even with people he cares about and who he knows reciprocate. He's been trapped in limbo for so long: never alone but always lonely, given enough scraps to stay in one place and fear loss while still feeling an itch under his skin for something more.

To be understood. To be seen. To be loved. To belong to someone instead of being a stray, wandering from door to door and taking whatever handouts he can while sleeping in their shitty garage.

Logan is an animal at heart, really. The Wolverine had always been inside him, influencing his feelings and emotions in a way normal humans couldn't quite relate to or understand.

And like all animals, the thing he wants the most is a home. A place to belong.

He stares at Wade as he continues rambling about the Logan from his world, talking with an energy he'd never had before.

A home, huh?

[sonchus-arvensis]

we got forced to love queerbaiting so much that now we don't care about the main canon mlm ship but obsess over a guy leaning his head on another guy's thigh

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone Danny Masterpost

So its been like, almost a week since the first part of clone danny came out and, in unsurprising Starry fashion, I already have six parts out. Granted they're not very long but six parts ARE six parts, so here is a masterpost!

Part 1. Danny Fenton Lives!! And also becomes a vigilante

Part 2. More Danny Fenton Trying To Be Phantom

Part 3. Danny finds out he's a clone. Oh and look Bruce is here too

Part 4. What to do when your genetic donor is suddenly in the same building as you: a guide to avoidance

Part 4.5. Dani's Got The Scary Dog Privileges: More On That Here

Part 5. Damian is a menace, and so is Ellie, actually.

Part 6. The Waynes Leave, finally!… And Danny ends up in Gotham

Part 7. Danny's still in Gotham. Send Help

Part 7.5. Remember Dan in part 2? he's back in an interlude :)

Part 8. Danny Gets His Phone Call

Memes PT1 Memes PT2

A Reflection On Danny's Reaction To Being A Clone

Other:

Au of an Au: combining two clones Clone^2 snippets More Clone^2 danny's hands

Danny becoming Phantom (Clone^2 AND Clone Danny applicable)

Starry geeks out about her unintentionally putting meaning behind Danny being Phantom without powers.

Tag for @gin2212 bc you wanted one when the masterpost went out

[butmakeitgayblog]

Teach Me

Ch. 7

Test days

///////////////

God, she hated test days.

The mind-numbing minutiae of it.

The waste of time that could be better spent actually learning. 

The way she had to show up to do… absolutely nothing. 

Pacing an ambling line from one end of the lecture platform to the other, her eyes swept the darkened room before checking her watch again.

“You have thirty seconds left to finish your thoughts for this piece, and then we're moving on to the final slide,” Lexa called out, remembering to soften her tone so as to not make the more consumed writers of the class jump nearly a foot out of their desks.

Again.

The screen overhead flipped from ‘ The Column of Trajan’ to ‘ The Arch of Constantine’, and the clock on the wall ticked on.

A few more minutes passed in relatively dull silence as Lexa mentally flowed through the lesson plans she had presented thus far, combing the downturned sea of faces and mentally shouting what she hoped the students had taken from them. 

Because she wanted them to do well.

Because she measured her own success as an educator by her student's every success.

Because if she had to read one more essay this semester that contained the words “lit” or “potato quality” in reference to ancient carvings, she just might tear her own hair out.

She really hated test days. 

Mind buzzing with thoughts of stylistic contrasts between High Empire versus Late, and wondering who among her pupils would draw the correct conclusions for why each piece represented on the test was chosen, Lexa felt her pocket vibrate as she settled down on the edge of the table at the head of the room.

Fishing her phone out, she glanced down and froze at the preview that flashed bright across the screen.

“That is a very tight vest you have on Professor”

Schooling her face despite the heat that bloomed bright hot in her cheeks, Lexa checked the timer she had set and barely hesitated before opening the message.

“Shouldn't you be focusing on your test?”

“Just finished a minute ago. Now I'm wasting time until class is over.”

“Shouldn't you want to leave then?” she thumbed out. As if on cue, she pressed her phone to her chest and nodded as a student traipsed up to the front and deposited their test booklet on the table before slipping out of the lecture hall without a sound. “It's a beautiful day. Go enjoy it instead of pretending to look busy.”

“But the view's so good right here…”

Straightening up from her slouched position, it felt like a herculean task to keep her eyes from beelining to the front row and exactly two seats to the left. 

Instead she made another lazy loop around the dais, scanning the crowd for moving pencils (and any obvious signs of someone having fallen asleep.) 

The dull squeak of graphite on paper had her winding back around to stand behind the safety of her podium.

“That's highly inappropriate. Remind me why I let you sit in the front row?” she typed back the second her hands were out of sight. 

She snuck another glance out into the dimmed lecture hall and waited.

“Because I'm your very favoritest student Professor Woods,” she read when another message popped up right below it. “And because when I wear this outfit you can almost see up my dress.”

/////////////

Read on AO3

[wandixx]

Halloween dress-up, let's go!!!

Assignment: "Dress up as ghosts".

Status: Yes. They're ghosts. Just really different types of ghosts

[xxplastic-cubexx]

so like do you think they made the plastic wheelchair ALONGSIDE the plastic prison as a Just In Case situation, only after they realized charles was going to be a frequent visitor, or both as in because they knew charles was going to be the only person visiting him during planning they decided to make him a chair ahead of time

[allyriadayne]

And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? Or, all the times Aegon and Aemond look at each other like there's no one else in the room 1/?

[metroid-fusion]

5p

[natasha-in-space]

Take Your Breath Away

Pairing: Saeyoung/afab!reader;

Notes: !Minors do not interact! This one contains smut! Set in RAE timeline, with you getting together with Saeyoung after RAE takes place. Lots and LOTS of pet names. This was a gift fic to a friend, so keep that in mind while reading, as the dynamic between you and Saeyoung was written in a very deliberate way <3

Summary: No birthday is exactly the same, no matter how many years go by in your shared life with Saeyoung. Catching a private moment with your husband can be a bit difficult when there's a whole group of dear friends eager to celebrate yet another year of his life. Which is why a little private celebration was in order.

AO3 link - 8k words (what);

Credit: Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Despite your hushed footsteps against the smooth, wooden floors of your apartment, you knew Saeyoung probably heard you already. Not that you minded. While sneaking up on him was fun, you had nothing to hide from him anymore. The surprise was ready and waiting. And this was just the ideal opportunity to finally bring your plans to reality.

His birthday was finally today, the day you had been anticipating for weeks now. Though, to prevent him from being overwhelmed with too much attention, you kept your excitement mostly to yourself up until now. From what you could observe of him over the years, Saeyoung was still only getting used to actually celebrating his birthday properly, so you naturally assumed that doing something big and loud wouldn't be something he'd be very happy with. And your wish was for him to spend his birthday with a smile on his face. This year around, his birthday just happened to be on your day off work as well, so you two could spend the entire day together for the first time in a long time.

Given that the rest of the day was set aside for Saeran and the RFA, you made the natural decision to arrange a private surprise that was only for you and him alone. Plus, Saeran seemed to approve of this idea, even creating a small gift for his brother that he entrusted to you to give him. Whether it was due to bashfulness or something else entirely.

It wasn't unusual for you both to be fully awake at midnight. Night was a special time for you, and not just because of the stars now sprinkled across the inky black void of the sky above, twinkling dimly against the bright lights of the city bellow. It was a time when the world slowed down, grew quiet, peaceful. A perfect time for meaningful conversations and sweet moments hidden away under the comforting solitude the night would bring with it. Many of the precious memories you now cherished dearly were made during the night. You supposed that was only natural, considering you both just happened to be night owls through and through, as opposed to Saeran and his beloved, who were more like a pair of early birds.

It was just you and Saeyoung in a cozy space you now called your home, no one to disturb you, and no one to steal the attention back onto themselves. The apartment was a perfect mix of peace and quiet, a welcome reprieve from all the hustle and bustle of the day prior in preparation for the twins' birthday party tomorrow. The living room of your apartment was already decorated for the celebration ahead, with balloons scattered about and a small collection of gifts from you, Saeran, Saeyoung, and Saeran's  partner already waiting on the shelves to be opened.

So, you take your chance while you still can.

"...Happy birthday, love," you whispered at last as you leaned over the back of the couch with cake in your hands, a small smile playing on your lips in anticipation of the upcoming reaction from your husband.

Upon seeing him looking up at you, you gave him a small giggle, knowing that his evident expression of surprise was mostly due to the small cake you had in your hands. Saeran made it himself only a day ago, but you did provide some assistance of your own. You both made sure that Saeyoung was kept in the dark about it up until today, though. When Saeran sought your advice on what gift to give to his big brother, you both decided that a present made by hand would be the best starting point, though it wasn't anything extravagant or expensive.

But Saeyoung had more than enough money for all three of you, after all.

As you placed the small cake on the coffee table, Saeyoung blinked up at you and swiftly glanced back at the clock hanging by the front door, squinting rather adorably. Without a doubt, it was just past midnight. June 11th. Today was the day of his birthday. And the day he was now officially 29 years of age.

Almost hitting his 30's.

"...Oh," Saeyoung blurted out, sounding slightly embarrassed, and immediately you sensed a slight feeling of guilt rising within him as he looks down at his lap for a split second, almost as if he wasn't sure what to say or how to react to your quiet congratulation. Feeling melancholic on this day, particularly at night, wasn't something new to him. Regardless, he quickly shook it off, smiled up at you, and swiftly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap with practiced ease. "You didn't have to-"

"Oh hush," following his lead, you settled on his lap, giving him a small, affectionate smile. "It's your birthday. I want to treat you. Even if it's something small and intimate. I figured tomorrow will be mostly about Saeran and RFA, knowing you. So I wanted to make a little something just about you."

Saeyoung was only able to produce a small 'urgh' sound and shake his head in amusement, but you just laughed and winked at him cheekily. The way you were able to read him like an open book could be borderline unnerving to him at times. But hey, occasionally, he needed to be called out. And you were always eager to do just that, keeping him in check when needed.

"Touché... You know me way too well sometimes. It's unfair," he whined with a playful pout, wrapping his arms more securely around you and leaning back against the couch with a long sigh. Giving your cheek a small kiss, he looked back down at the small cake again, now resting nearby on the coffee table. "You made the cake yourself?"

"Nope! Saeran did. I know you're not as big on sweets as he is, but giving you another box of Dr Pepper seemed kind of ridiculous. Sometimes some good old sugar is not so bad, I think. Saeran worked hard on this for you," you chirped, perking up a bit after hearing about the cake. As you glanced between the dessert and Saeyoung, you smiled and tried your best to observe his reaction.

"Saeran...?"

Saeyoung's eyes widened as he stared down at the cake, a whole cocktail of various emotions filling his gaze behind his thick glasses. That's a reaction you well enough expected of him, just letting him take his time before responding. Even after all these years, he was still adjusting to not being the one who took care of Saeran in their relationship. Saeyoung would often find himself feeling choked up and overwhelmed with even the slightest hint of affection from his younger twin. Even so, he was improving year by year. And you could not be prouder of him.

Considering the time and ingredients that Saeran invested in this little project of his, you were very proud of what he achieved after hours of tireless crafting. Compared to your brother-in-law, baking was not your strong suit. But buying a cake was just not the right choice for you either. So, you delegated that task to Saeran, while you observed him from the side and acted as his inexperienced baking assistant.

The cake was not particularly large or grandiose. Just a simple homemade cake that was medium-sized and decorated with cherries and delicate flowers made of frosting. Though you were certain that there was more hidden meaning involved here than you were aware of. Saeyoung was the one who needed to figure that out, however. The cake was also decorated with a few candles and a traditional 'Happy Birthday' written on top with syrup. Simple, but endearing nonetheless. There was also a small, neat envelope tucked next to it. Something Saeran added there as a sort of bonus. Out of respect, you haven't peeked inside yet.

"...Wow. Yeah. That is definitely a lot more incredible than giving me more Dr Pepper. He really went all out with this... And for me nonetheless," Saeyoung said eventually, chuckling under his breath and gazing down at the cake with softened eyes. He carefully picked up a small cherry from the top and popped it in his mouth, chewing on it with far more care than was necessary. He ended by licking the syrup off his lips after swallowing it. You tried not to stare excessively. You tried even harder to resist kissing him right then and there, but you were interrupted again by his warm voice: "Mm, it's really good! You said Saeran made it himself... how many times did he have to mess it up until this one?"

"Oh, he got it right on first try. Compared to us, he's practically a pastry chef," you groaned a bit, leaning back on his lap comfortably. "If I was to try and bake you a cake myself, it'd take me at least a dozen of ruined cakes before I'd get to something at least decent enough to eat."

Saeyoung snickered as he shook his head when he saw your pouty face. It was obvious that he'll be bothering you about that comment later. That was not important right now, though. He looked at the small envelope next to the cake, raising a curious eyebrow instead.

"And what's that?" he asked.

"Oh, a small letter he wrote for you!" you grinned after following his gaze, looking back down at his face with a small, knowing twinkle in your eye. "-Yeah, yeah, I know it's a bit silly and cliché, considering you'll see him tomorrow morning. But I think it's sweet. Plus, it's something for you to keep and return to! The cake will be eaten, after all."

Saeyoung's expression was once again one of surprise before he reached out to take the envelope and study it.

"...Wow. You guys are... really spoiling me this year 'round. I didn't even hit 30 yet," he chuckled softly, looking back up at you. "Will I finally get a kitten next year, then?"

You only laughed at that, giving his shoulder a playful push, to which he shot you a cheeky grin of his own: "Don't get cocky."

This was the usual banter between you two, one that was familiar and comfortable.

Without further ado, Saeyoung carefully opened the top of the envelope and extracted the letter that was folded inside. He opened it and held it in front of him while quietly reading it fully, his expression changing occasionally as his eyes moved through the written words. You got closer, Saeyoung turning the letter to ensure both of you could read it.

Saeran did state to you that it was not particularly noteworthy. Just a written expression of his feelings, since he found it easier to express himself like this, instead of using direct words. You understood that perfectly.

The letter read: 'Dear Hyung. Whether you are reading this on the very day you were given this letter, or sometime later, I can stay assured that what I wrote in here remains true. I want to wish you a happy birthday. I never thought I would get a chance to say that to you like this, much less for so many years in a row. And not with us both now being adults. You were always my pillar of strength and my other half, as far back as I can remember. I used to be so full of anger at that... So full of anger, and of hurt, but I'm wiser now. In part, thanks to you. I know now that you were always there for me. You were always thinking of me, just as I was thinking of you. We were always connected. I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, Hyung. And I'm grateful to be your twin. I wish to be your pillar of strength now. I want you to know that you can rely on me with whatever that may trouble you. There's no need for you to hide your true self from me anymore. Ah... It's tradition to make wishes on birthdays, right? I suppose I should wish you something... And I think I want to wish you peace, Hyung. You've fought long and hard for my sake. I want you to rest now, with me, and Y/N, and RFA. I wish for you to find your promise of happiness, as I did mine. Maybe we'll even share it, like we shared everything. Let's eat some ice cream tomorrow. I can't wait to watch the clouds with you - Saeran :) ❁ '

Saeyoung slowly placed the letter on his lap all while still observing the handwriting, his fingertips tracing over the scribbled words, feeling the settled ink under his skin. His expression softened significantly, his usual relaxed face now filled with a strange mixture of fondness and... something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. Something fragile.

"God... You two are going to make me cry on my own birthday..." he muttered quietly, raising his hand to rub a bit at his eye, on which you did not comment to avoid embarrassing him. With clear tenderness in his movements, he folded up the letter and placed it aside before wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder with a deep, shaky sigh. "He sure has a way with words, doesn't he?"

His voice was muffled by your shoulder, but you heard him loud and clear nonetheless, his words laced with familial affection you loved so much. Your stomach was fluttering at the precious moment between you. Seeing these brothers reconnect and rebuild their relationship step by step always made you feel incredibly happy for them both.

They deserved to live in peace.

You laughed softly, wrapping your own arms around his torso and giving him a small hug in return. Your heart was warmed by the knowledge that Saeran's words have truly touched him. You knew how important this was to Saeyoung, after all.

"Yeah, he sure does. But all he wrote in there is true, you know?" you hummed while tilting your head to the side to nuzzle into his hair, feeling the soft curls tickling your cheeks. "He want you to be happy. As do I."

Saeyoung sighed hesitantly, raising his head and pulling back slightly to gaze up at you again. His expression appeared vulnerable, almost teary-eyed. Although you weren't surprised by that, it still made your heart lurch a bit. Reaching out, you cupped his cheek tenderly, to which he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, making you smile.

"I am happy," he responded, his voice soft. "You make me happy. You and Saeran. You are my two angels I will treasure forever."

You giggled at that sentiment as you leaned in to gently rest your forehead against his, allowing him to bask in this moment of genuine affection he was still trying to adjust to sometimes.

"You're the angel in my eyes, love. Maybe all four of us are angels. Wouldn't that be sweet? A featherly family of four. Although, that would be pretty dusty."

Saeyoung laughed at that, letting out a couple of small sniffles here and there, and you let him, not saying a word. After a few minutes of comfortable silence have passed between you, you pull back and settle on his lap as he looks up at you. You gave him a more cheerful smile.

"-We just wanted to give you something that would show you how much we care. This is your day, as much as Saeran's," a sheepish grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you shrugged. "...And I won't lie that I didn't want to sneak in a small private moment, just for the two of us. I want you to be happy, too, you know?"

Saeyoung was quiet for a second, a somewhat pensive look now falling over his face... before he shook his head and leaned back against the couch with a small huff.

"Well... there is something I'm not very happy about."

You blinked and tilted your head to the side curiously.

"What's that?"

With a soft exhale and a growing smirk, he suddenly tightened his strong arms around your waist and pulled you in towards him: "...You're wearing too many clothes."

After a brief pause, you blinked once more and raised your brows incredulously. Well, that was random. Still, this wouldn't be the first time Saeyoung caught you off-guard. Far from it, actually. As you looked down at him with a knowing smile, you chuckled softly.

"...Aren't you going to try out the cake first? Saeran worked hard on it, you know."

You let out a small pouty sigh, quickly falling into step with a familiar game you two would play with each other whenever things got a bit heated.

Saeyoung raised his eyebrow at you and rolled his eyes with a playful whiff.

"Oh, I'll save it. I want to show it off to everyone tomorrow! Plus, it wouldn't feel right just eating it by myself like this. I want to do that with you and Saeran," he whispered, running his hand up and down your back while observing the cake with one last thoughtful look. And just like that, his attention was now fully on you, his golden eyes twinkling alluringly in the dim light of the nearby lamp. "...Not to mention, I'm not sure if I'll be thinking about the cake right now when I have something way better to bite into right in front of me…"

Despite his words and actions making your body shiver slightly, you giggled again. While still sitting on his lap, you rested your palms on his chest and gazed down at him, quite enjoying this view of him from above.

You could get used to this.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to start your birthday off," you mused playfully in an overdramatic show of reluctance, your voice dropping an octave or two, growing more hushed and sensual in nature, the tension between you two rising steadily. Like a small spark of fire steadily growing in size and shining brighter with every second.

With a radiant grin now plastered on his face, Saeyoung slid his hands down to grab your thighs and pull your body taut against his, eliciting a tiny gasp of surprise from you: "Get over here then, starshine."

You just smiled at that, enjoying the teasing sensation of his hands now trailing up and down your thighs. Then, unexpectedly, his palms slid around to grasp your at backside, making you jolt and squeak far louder than you would have liked to. A response that was clearly in his favor, judging by the burst of laughter that rumbled in his chest as you shot him an embarrassed glare. Before you could open your mouth to grumble, he interrupted you.

"-And, frankly, this is the best way to start off my birthday," you could feel the slight vibrations of his voice reverberating in his chest in your palms, the noticeably deeper tone of it quickly making your head start to get all fuzzy. "And also my favorite way."

God, you loved it when he talked like that.

With a gentle tug, Saeyoung grasped the back of your thighs with his hands, pulling you in closer and shifting your position until you were sitting more directly on top of his legs. He then gently rocked you forward, grounding you against the growing erection straining in his jeans, your fingers grasping at his shirt in response. The way your voices merged together into one intimate melody in the form of a shared gasp that left your lips' was truly dizzying, in the best way possible. He gently moved his hands up your sides and then slipped them under the edge of your shirt to feel the warmth of your bare skin under his fingertips, your back arching into his touch.

The way your body felt in his hands was something you absolutely adored, as if it was made to fit into his arms. His expert care left your body buzzing with the rising heat of desire that blossomed between your thighs as you shivered in his grasp. It was nothing new, Saeyoung was always a highly perceptive person. It was only natural that this trait of his translated into the bedroom as well. What he lacked in skill and experience, he would compensate with attentiveness to your body's responses and eagerness to learn. Over the years, he has truly mastered the art of making you come undone in so many wonderful ways. As you did with him.

As his lips glided across your neck, you closed your eyes and tilted your head to the side to give him more space to work with, sighing lightly. His lips left a heated trail of small kisses up the side of your neck, before pressing directly against your ear.

"I need you, buttercup," Saeyoung whispered in a deep, hoarse voice. "Right now."

"...Shouldn't I be the one treating you, though?" you contemplated quietly, raising one of your hands to comb through his curly hair, eliciting a pleased hum from him that caused you to shiver in turn. "It is your birthday, after all. Not mine. You should be getting all the attention tonight."

"Oh, you're more than welcome to treat me," Saeyoung murmured softly against your skin, his warm breath creating a tickling sensation on your neck as he moved his lips downwards, planting kisses towards the lower part of your throat, nearing your collarbone. "It's just that my favorite treat just happens to be you."

His hands firmly gripped your thighs again, gently massaging the soft flesh with growing greediness that always tended to come out of him whenever you two got intimate. A greediness you've always welcomed happily. Then, gradually, he moved up to your hips and settled on the small area of exposed skin between your pajamas shorts and shirt. His lips now touched your collarbone, leaving a trail of lovebites in their wake, then moved towards your shoulder, all while his fingers started to trace back and forth along the border of your shorts, gently touching the delicate skin there. It was impossible to focus on anything but his smothering presence overwhelming your every sense. Not that you wanted to. You would happily drown in his touch, each and every time.

"Saeyoung..."

"-Besides," he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin. "You're all I want, anyways. As long as I have you right here, with me, I'm good for the rest of my life, trust me on that."

Despite the circumstances, you managed to give out a hearty laugh at that.

"...You are such a dork," you said with an obvious fondness in your voice, shaking your head at him slightly. You glided your finger across his black button-up, tracing his chest where it was casually unbuttoned, the small shiver that ran through his body at your delicate touch making you grin to yourself. After all, he was just as affected by you as you were by him.

"Well you married this dork, thank you very much," Saeyoung smirked as his own finger trailed down your chest in return, mimicking your gesture. With a mix of love and longing in his eyes, he raised his head and looked up at you. "And this dork needs you bad, right now."

"Well, who am I to deny the birthday boy?"

With that, you slid down and gently cupped his cheek with the palm of your hand, pressing your lips against his at long last, tasting the sweet cherry flavor on his tongue with a pleased hum. A gentle sound of pleasure rumbled in the back of Saeyoung's throat as he immediately reciprocated the kiss with equal fervor.

You quickly molded your body into his as you shared a tender, lingering kiss that only grew in passion as seconds trickled by. Although he was clearly more than eager to move on to the next step with you right away, the affectionate and unhurried kisses seemed just perfect as they were. He slowly moved his hands up your abdomen, lifting your shirt as he went and feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his touch. You effortlessly lifted your arms for him, allowing him to smoothly remove your shirt from your body. Breaking off the kiss only for a moment, he swiftly did just that, discarding it somewhere on the floor, and then pulled you back in closer for another kiss, seemingly unwilling to be away from your lips for too long at a time.

Your seamless communication without any words being spoken was clear on display as you acted in perfect harmony with each other, your bodies moving as one. There was a certain beauty in that. To lose yourself in another's warmth and touch, letting yourself surrender and become a part of something special. A testament to the years of trust and experiences together.

Or maybe you were being a bit too sappy for your own good.

As Saeyoung pulled you closer for yet another kiss, your fingertips skillfully unbuttoned at his own shirt, gently brushing away the soft fabric to caress his warm chest, his skin smooth under your fingertips.

Saeyoung let out a soft moan into the kiss, feeling your hands trace over his muscles and scars reverently. By this point, you knew his body in all of its tiniest of details, as he did yours. Every freckle, every scar, every dip and crevice. You knew the stories behind all of his scars, shared in quiet conversations under the cloak of the night.

His scars were a reminder of his perseverance. And they made him that much more beautiful to you.

Meanwhile, his own hands eagerly explored your body, firmly grasping and squeezing in all the right places to make you jolt and shudder against him, as he explored the contours of your figure he already knew so well.

Saeyoung gently broke the kiss and looked back at you, his eyes now fully glazed over as you two panted, regaining your breathing from the heated exchange that just took place between you two. You shivered as you saw his lips, now plump and reddened as a result of your own actions, his cheeks dusted with a pretty shade of cherry-red that made his freckles even more prominent, the shade of his blush almost matching that fiery hair of his you loved so much.

He looked good enough to eat like that.

"You always know how to take my breath away, starshine..."

Saeyoung leaned up and gave you a gentle peck on the cheek that made your heart flutter in your chest. Then, he moved his hands lower to take hold of your ass again, but this time, with clear intention rather than a mere tease. He began to lift you up effortlessly, to which you only gave him a questioning look, but went along with it nonetheless, wrapping your arms around his neck and hooking you legs over his hips to help him out. He grinned at that, giving you another quick, appreciative kiss. This time, on the tip of your nose.

He carefully guided you off his lap and instead positioned you onto the coffee table next to the cake, settling you down with your back against the armrest of the couch and your lower body now resting comfortably on the edge of the table.

Your breath caught audibly as you observed his every movement with reverence. Your eyes were half-lidded, just as captivated by him and perfectly oblivious to everything and anything else in the room at this moment. You couldn't control it even if you wanted to; he was incredibly attractive, almost painfully so. Since that first silly selfie he sent to you in the chatroom all those years ago, you had always believed that to be the unrebukable truth. And even after everything you have experienced together over the past few years, he still managed to leave you utterly breathless.

His own expression was almost mesmerized and he smirked a bit to himself, taking in the captivating sight before him.

"Told you my favorite part of my birthday is already right here," he whispered softly while sinking down on his knees in front of you.

"Jesus, Saeyoung..." you exhaled shakily, your heart pounding all the way up in your temples, a mix of excitement and admiration gripping at your chest.

His hands rested on your thighs, his thumbs gently caressing the smooth skin there. Gradually, Saeyoung parted your legs, positioning himself between them, and lifting your legs to rest comfortably on his shoulders.

As he gazed up at you with amber eyes now darkened by desire, he formed a knowing smile that almost made you whimper from the sight of it alone.

Even though you tried your best, you wriggled impatiently on the coffee table while he touched you, kneeling before you in such a breathtaking manner. The mere sight of him in that position for you ignited a strong sense of lust within you, and it only intensified with every passing moment. However, you held off on the urge to rush him - as you usually do with him - even though you knew he wouldn't mind you being demanding with him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Your knuckles turned white as you tightly grasped the edge of the coffee table, your breathing inevitably quickening in anticipation and making your heart beat ever faster, pounding against your ribcage and sending blood pumping to the growing knot of desire in the pit of your stomach.

"You look just like an angel like that, you know..." Saeyoung whispered, not at all helping with your growing state of lust-filled turmoil.

With that, he bent down to plant a series of kisses along the sensitive inner flesh of your calves, slowly moving up to your inner thighs, towards the aching spot between your legs where you needed him most. He firmly grasped at your thighs with his fingers, holding them open for him while he gently and sensually kissed up, nearing the edge of your silky shorts. The warmth and scent of you were driving him wild, intensifying his craving for more, to bury his face between your thighs and taste you on his tongue.

However, he, too, refrained for now. He made sure to spend enough time with you to savor you like you deserved, kissing you gently everywhere but where you really wanted him, until he breathed on the thin fabric covering your core.

"...Are you seriously about to eat me out on your birthday? Like I said, it should be me treating you, not the other way around," you murmured, your voice hoarse and breathy, a clear sign of your ever-increasing arousal.

"But you are treating me," Saeyoung said matter-of-factly, his breath touching your skin. "And this is the best treat you can give me, love bug, trust me."

He was driving you crazy, dear god.

You couldn't quite understand what had gotten into him today, but you definitely weren't complaining in the slightest. His every action caused your breath to catch in your throat and your chest to fill with nervous excitement for what would happen next. Seeing him in this state, kneeling between your legs, so eager and willing to taste you without you even having to ask...

Wow, you really hit the jackpot with him, huh? Though, it's not like you were unaware of that. But it was truly surprising to you that he was doing this for you on his own birthday. By all accounts, it should have been you pleasuring him, not the other way around. And yet, he was more than eager to focus on you instead. That damn lovable goofball.

Your breath was shaky, and your hand instinctively reached down to gently stroke his hair, wishing to show him some of your affection and gratitude, to which you felt him hum appreciatively against you, making your legs shake a bit.

Saeyoung moved closer, positioning his face directly between your legs now. He lowered his head and nuzzled his cheek against one of your thighs, taking a moment to just breathe in your scent and soak in your warmth. Then, slowly and deliberately, he turned his head and planted a firm kiss directly on your clothed core. He could feel the heat practically radiating from you by this point, and he made a soft sound of approval, closing his eyes for a moment to just enjoy the feel of you.

In a way, it was to remind himself that you were really here. Real. Even now, he would still find himself doubtful and paranoid of this fragile happiness you have built with him so generously. The mere fact that you have chosen to give your heart to him was a miracle he will cherish for the rest of his days on this Earth, of that, he was certain.

The least he could do was make you feel good like this. Show you his appreciation through his touch. Ravish you like you deserve.

Saeyoung leaned closer, pressing his face against you, sensing the dampness that could already be felt through the soft fabric of your thin shorts. He raised his head slightly to lock eyes with you, then trailed his nose along the curve of your hip, feeling the soft fabric of your shorts against his skin.

The eye contact was just too much.

"Can we please get these shorts off me?" you whined softly, uncertain how much longer you could handle being teased like this, even though you knew he wasn't doing it intentionally.

Yet.

Saeyoung chuckled at your request, his warm breath tickling your skin. He obviously noticed how your body trembled with every movement, and it only fueled his desire to playfully taunt you with all that he had. However, right now, he only wanted to taste you, to make you come undone for him, above all else.

"Roger that, my lovely 606," he whispered in a hushed and raspy voice. "Lift up for me, starshine."

You complied without any extra guidance needed, raising your hips from the table all while taking in the familiar combination of nervousness and eagerness buzzing in your chest.

Saeyoung took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, admiring you in your vulnerable state. Your body was now fully exposed to him, laid out, and ready for him to enjoy. He slowly moved his hands up your legs, observing how your muscles responded to his touch, twitching and tensing in anticipation. With care, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and smoothly pulled them down along with your underwear, discarding the soft pieces of clothing along with your shirt in a messy pile on the floor. As soon as you were completely bare from the waist down, Saeyoung moved closer and placed his hands back on your hips. Without much delay, he once again buried his face between your thighs, no more barriers getting in the way of his desire.

You trembled a bit, attempting to avoid squeezing your legs together around his head. A soft whimper escaped your mouth as you felt him finally touch you where you needed him most, your heart pounding in your chest, your pulse reverberating in your temples. You reached down with one hand and gently stroked his hair again, not tugging at it quite yet. Though it will probably happen eventually as the night progresses. His hair would always end up a mess after this. A very lovely looking, fiery mess.

As Saeyoung exhaled, his breath was hot and heavy against your folds, feeling the warmth and wetness now pressed directly against his nose. He had no shame in expressing his enjoyment of it all. He couldn't contain himself and let out a soft, eager moan as he savored the first taste of you, his tongue quickly getting to work as he swiped it between your folds in a painfully slow motion, savoring the feel of you against him.

He observed how your muscles tightened as a result of his ministrations, the sounds of your soft gasps going straight to his groin as he fought back the urge to squirm on his spot. This was about you. He'll get his share later. He gently glided his hands down from your hips to your thighs, encouraging you to relax.

"Relax, buttercup," Saeyoung murmured against you, his warm breath touching your core and making you tremble. "Just let me treat you..."

He turned and placed a few more leisurely, heated kisses on the inside of your thighs before diving back in, his whole mouth now fully on you, leaving nothing to imagination. He savored your taste with a deep, primal moan as he finally got what he wanted. His gentle pressure on your legs kept them apart for him, his hands holding you firmly while you twitched uncontrollably, keeping you exposed to him.

His tongue gently teased at your entrance, gathering some more of your juices, then moved higher to circle around your clit, his lips sucking on it gently, his gaze now fully focused on your face.

As you threw your head back with a needy moan, you realized that this was going to be a long night.

Taking deep, unsteady breaths, you tried your best to soothe your pounding heart and the lingering tremors that were a stark reminder of your passionate lovemaking that took place only minutes prior. With you now resting on Saeyoung's chest, you both reclined on the couch, gradually regaining your composure.

You finally broke the comfortable silence by letting out a soft chuckle after a while.

"So... That's certainly one way to start off a birthday," you repeated your earlier words, your fingers drumming against his bicep lightly.

The sound of Saeyoung's breathless laughter quietly vibrated within his chest as you rested against him. He smiled at you, tracing delicate designs on your skin, his hands gently stroking your back.

"One of the best birthdays I've had, I'd say," he said with a slightly hoarse voice as a result of your previous activities together. Though, you loved how he sounded when he was like this. All breathless, a bit raspy, and gravely. Because of you.

He adjusted his position slightly, bringing you in closer to him, relishing in the messy sensation of your sweaty, naked body against his. He tucked his face into your hair, taking a moment to unwind and soak up the warm afterglow with you. This time, he was the one who broke the silence, his voice now being more gentle and contemplative than playful: "...Seriously, though, what did I do to deserve an angel like you, hm?"

You expressed your irritation by rolling your eyes and playfully bumping his bare chest with your fist.

"Hey, none of that. Especially on your birthday. Or I'll have to kiss you senseless to shut you up for good."

Saeyoung's eyes were quick to sparkle with lighthearted mischief as he grinned up at you: "...Is that supposed to be a threat, starshine? Because I'm afraid I won't mind that at all."

He reached out to gently hold your chin, tilting your head back a little, his lips hovering mere inches from your own.

"Maybe you'll give me a demonstration, my little alien? Shut me up, will you?" he whispered, his eyes filled with silent challenge for you. One that you took with not much thought.

"Gladly," you chuckled, leaning in and securing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss as the afterglow of your latest lovemaking washed over you in a pleasant, relaxing buzz in your achy muscles.

Your affection was immediately reciprocated, with Saeyoung emitting a soft moan and tightening his grip on your chin ever so slightly. Your lips touching his so gently and unhurriedly created a warm and contented sensation that has wrapped his heart in a soothing embrace he was unwilling to let go of. Gradually, he turned you both over, positioning your back against the couch, all without interrupting the kiss. His body now towered over yours.

Gradually, what started out as a simple press of your lips against his has escalated into a full-blown makeot session, with Saeyoung's tongue entering your mouth and savoring your taste all over again, never once getting tired of it. After all, he would often find himself getting insatiable when it came to you. He firmly grasped your waist with one of his hands, keeping you close to him.

His embrace made you tremble, as his passionate kisses caused your breath to get caught up in your throat all over again. However, you still retained enough awareness to pull back a bit, placing your hands on his chest, and gazing up at him with glazed over eyes and flushed cheeks. In this moment, Saeyoung appeared absolutely stunning. He was positioned above you, with the light from the ceiling creating a tinted shadow over his face, his skin glistening from the thin layer of sweat covering his body.

Now that's a sight for sore eyes.

"I can't get enough of you..." he murmured against your lips once he pulled away, his breaths shaky against your lips, his voice deep and husky once again. "Never could. Never will."

With genuine affection in your gaze, you gently stroked his cheek, letting out a soft, shaky giggle.

"I still want to be able to walk straight tomorrow for your birthday party, you know."

Saeyoung chuckled quietly at that, the sound resonating deep within his chest. Leaning closer, he was clearly enjoying the sensation of your touch on his cheek, even closing his eyes in contentment. At this point, he would likely be vibrating with his entire body, if only he could purr. A thought that made you laugh to yourself with amusement.

"Eh, can't promise anything, love bug," he whispered back with a slight playful smirk now playing on his lips.

His hand, which was previously resting idly on your waist, glided down to your inner thigh, applying gentle pressure and caressing the delicate skin there, but not doing anything more than that.

Nonetheless, you expressed your disapproval by lightheartedly rolling your eyes at him and adjusting your position slightly to raise yourself up onto your elbows.

"Come on, we do need some strength for tomorrow," you gave his cheek a gentle kiss. "Let's go start up a bath and go to bed for tonight. It's almost 2 am now, anyways."

Saeyoung gave out an overdramatic sigh, feigning disappointment. His eagerness for a second round was evident, maybe even a third, if you were willing to let him. Nonetheless, he did acknowledge that you both indeed needed some rest.

"You're right, you're right," he conceded. Before getting up from the couch, he gave you one last kiss on the lips. "I'll get the bath ready, you go get the towels, deal?"

"Deal."

He caught one last sight of you swiftly standing up after him and walking away to get the towels and spare clothes for you both. His eyes scanned over your body, appreciating your every movement and the way your skin glowed smoothly in the light of the apartment, noticing the small marks he had left on you. He sighed once more and then entered the bathroom to begin preparing for the bath.

Meanwhile, you retrieved some towels and pajamas for both of you to change into after the bath. Satisfied, you headed back to the bathroom with pep in your step, eagerly anticipating the simple pleasure of relaxing in the warm, soapy water, ending this already wonderful evening on a very positive note.

When you entered the room, Saeyoung quickly turned his head to look at you, flashing you a wide grin.

"You can set those on the counter!"

He pointed towards the towels while still adjusting the water in the bathtub to ensure the temperature was just perfect for you. After turning off the faucet, he stepped away from the bathtub and observed the gentle movement of the bubbly water against the sides.

Unable to resist, he stole another appreciative glance at you, his eyes fixating on your physique before finally speaking again: "...You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days looking like that, starshine."

With clear disbelief, you looked over at him and raised your brows incredulously.

"...I'm literally just standing here, love."

Your blunt response was clearly more than amusing to him, as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter: "Oh, I know. You just look angelic doing absolutely nothing, buttercup."

You entered the soothing bath with a slight snort and a shake of your head, exhaling a satisfied sigh as the fragrant water cleansed your sweaty body. The sweet scent of blackberry quickly surrounded you in a pleasant cloud of tranquility, and you even found yourself closing your eyes in pure bliss.

As you immersed yourself in the water, Saeyoung's eyes once again scanned over your body, observing your every move with warm affection in his gaze. Nonetheless, his attention was still directed towards the various marks he was the direct cause of: proof of his existence now scattered across your skin like a temporary tattoo. Small marks in the shape of his lips and fingers that were now turning a pretty shade of red thanks to the heat from the water. A familiar feeling of fulfillment rose within him at the sight, knowing that he had left his trace on you, that you were his in body and spirit, as much as he was completely yours in turn. He was even tempted to leave a few more, but he realized it was far too late in the night to bother you with that. You both needed to rest, and above all, he just wanted to hold you in his arms and feel your warmth.

"Hey, scooch forward a bit. I'm getting in," he said, tilting his head toward the water.

And that was exactly what you did, quickly adjusting your position in the bathtub and gazing up at him with a small smile of anticipation, waiting for him to join you at last.

Saeyoung stepped closer to the bathtub until he was right behind you, and then slowly lowered himself into it, taking a seat and wrapping his arms securely around your waist. He drew you in toward his chest, keeping you close and placing you snuggly between his legs.

"Mmm. Much better," he whispered to you softly, nesting his face into your neck and planting a few light kisses on your skin. "God, I love holding you like this, starshine."

As you leaned back against him, a gentle smile tugged at the corners of your lips, letting out a contented sigh. The delightful aroma of the soapy water and the affectionate touch of your husband had you in a truly happy mood. Taking a bath together was like shooting two birds with one stone: both cleansing yourself as well as finding solace in one another after engaging in some rather intense activities with him. You gently rested your hand on one of his arms, which encircled your waist beneath the water and kept it there, your thumb running over his skin in slow circles.

As he leaned back against the bathtub, Saeyoung felt the sensation of your warm skin against his chest, almost completely pressing against you. He slowly moved his hands down your sides, gently touching your skin while he buried his face in your hair.

"Happy birthday, Saeyoung," you said in a hushed voice.

His warm breath touching your ear, Saeyoung released a gentle laugh.

"You already gave me the best gift I could ask for," he replied, the tone of his voice deep and playful. He delicately held the lower part of your jaw and tilted your head upwards before planting a series of slow, leisurely kisses on your neck after shifting one of his hands from your side. "...You."

[writer-room]

I hope wherever Pixal is she's absolutely fine, not because I don't want to see my blorbos hurt, in fact I love when they get fucked up, but specifically for the comedy potential. Because knowing Pixal, there's a high chance she's already completely accepted that Zane has died for the 10th time somewhere and is probably in the midst of trying to find and revive him along with the other ninja. She's entered full "guess Zane's dead again time to cope by not coping at all" mode. She abandoned the grieving stage once she realized this was a common occurrence. The grind never stops, she hasn't seen sunlight in six months, and probably didn't even realize the realms Merged.

Zane, however, is very much not used to being on the other side of "this person I love might be dead or is otherwise missing somewhere". He's moping on the floor. Staring out the window like a victorian maiden. Longing for when his beloved will return from the war. The saddest, soaking wet kitten you ever did see. About to recite poetry at a moments notice. He's given sympathies as well as being mocked endlessly by his annoyed friends because yeah, how does it feel NOW, Zane? FEELS BAD DOESN'T IT

And then they just find each other at a store somewhere in the Crossroads like it's an average Tuesday afternoon. Do you see the vision

[oderu]

shoh dump part 1

[beanghostprincess]

headcanon that actually sanji's eyes are each of a different color (like, blue and soft brown kind of very yellowish. heterochromia is beautiful like that) and after the time skip, when he changes his hairstyle, nobody actually notices because after 2 years of not seeing each other of course they wouldn't remember his eye color. and he actually prefers it this way because he can't deal with them laughing about it now.

but then, one night, when usopp and him are on night guard together for the first time in ages (they're both pining idiots and lost the chance to confess when sabaody happened) usopp won't stop staring at him, focused on his eye, specifically. sanji takes a drag of his cigarette and he feels himself getting more nervous by the second. "is the smoke bothering you or-"

"no!" usopp replies a bit too fast, blushing and instantly bringing his hand to the back of his neck, looking around to avoid sanji's face for a while. "i was just thinking..." he takes a deep breath, and goes back to looking at sanji. the cook won't stop thinking about how long the sniper's hair is and the way it gently falls over his shoulders as he speaks. he doesn't even notice usopp's lovesick stare when he speaks. "your eyes. i liked the blue one. reminds me of the sea."

sanji's heartbeat stops for a second there, and he almost chokes on the smoke but covers it with a dry laugh. "so this one isn't pretty enough for your liking, then?" he tries to sound sarcastic and prays for usopp not to notice the way his voice falters with fear.

usopp's eyes are wide open. "of course it is! it's- it's pretty. really... pretty." the sniper feels his body shaking as he tries to fix what he said. they're both acting stupid, blushing and trying not to seem too focused on the other. but it's not like neither of them can hold back from staring at each other. silence comes, and somehow usopp has the courage to smile. "it's just like sand. or gold."

"that's the best metaphor you can come up with, longnose?" he says this as if he wasn't on the verge of tears.

the sniper shrugs his shoulders. "why would you cover one? together they'd be, you know, like the beach. sand, gold, the sea... it's- um- cool."

sanji raises his eyebrow at that, and scoffs as he takes another drag of his cigarette. he doesn't want to finish it that early, or he won't have anything to do with his hands later. "i wouldn't hear the end of it if i did."

"but they're beautiful!" usopp insists. they've been sitting closer and closer.

beautiful.

something inside of sanji breaks after hearing that word, looking up at the night sky for a moment with a bittersweet smile. "well, men aren't supposed to be be-"

"why not?" that catches him off guard. usopp's decisive eyes meet his. the sniper's hand is shaking, but he still makes an effort to touch sanji's hair ever so slightly, thinking twice about it. their faces are so close sanji refuses to smoke in case he burns usopp. "can i?"

sanji looks around for a few seconds, and thinks about refusing. about denying him the chance to see his face completely. to witness what he truly looks like. but he nods, anyway. "you tell somebody about this and i murder you. they haven't noticed yet."

usopp hums at that, a tiny, excited smile showing up on his lips. "because they don't pay attention to you. only an idiot wouldn't be able to notice."

"maybe you pay too much attention to me." and it kind of sounds like 'i don't deserve that you do'.

but usopp finally moves his hair to the side, and the way his breathing twitches says 'you deserve everything. you're everything' and the sniper kind of hopes he hears it. usopp takes a deep breath, letting his other hand travel to sanji's face so he can hold it better. the cook grabs him by the wrist but keeps it there.

they're both shaking.

sanji lets out an embarrassed laugh, something that usopp has never heard coming from him. "not that cool when you see both at the same time, huh? the eyebrows are also-"

"you're gorgeous."

before any of them can panic at usopp's sudden comment, sanji's grip on his wrist tightens. usopp notices, looking down at his lips for a second, going back at his eyes again.

they keep looking at each other for a while, realizing that usopp is kind of almost on top of sanji at this point, and that neither of them wants the other to move away. they just want- need each other closer.

sanji is so overwhelmed by his words he isn't sure of what to say, so he just slides his hand to grab usopp's tightly. beautiful. gorgeous. it's breaking him. it's too much. and yet, he wants more.

"can you- say it again?"

"you're beautiful." he breathes out. "gorgeous. the prettiest person i've ever-"

"oh, shut up!" sanji can't help but laugh at the exaggeration, but usopp is completely serious.

oh, fuck, he's being completely serious. because the sniper is now too close to him, and he isn't smiling anymore. "can i draw you someday?"

and perhaps it's the butt of the cigarette burning his fingertips, but he feels brave enough to lean into usopp. "can you kiss me first?" and it comes out instinctively.

the way the sniper jumps a bit, surprised at his words is endearing enough for the cook to smile right away. "what? yes? yes. of course. yes. yea-"

it's sanji who kisses him.

and he thinks, while all the ashes fall completely on the deck, that he'll keep covering one of his eyes. not because he doesn't think they're beautiful enough to be seen. not because he's ashamed.

he just doesn't want usopp to get used to them. he wants him to draw him and kiss him and hold him like this forever, every time he sees both of his eyes and eyebrows, like the first time. forever. and besides, the sniper is right. the others didn't even notice. perhaps they will after a few more days of being together, but for now?

maybe sanji really, really likes the fact that usopp is the only one that pays this much attention to him.

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college? 

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now. 

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.   

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it. 

They’re still not sure if they should let him go. 

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in. 

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves. 

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being. 

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things. 

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.) 

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad. 

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air. 

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to. 

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud. 

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words. 

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil. 

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died. 

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.) 

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”) 

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.) 

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.) 

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core. 

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help. 

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.” 

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.) 

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.) 

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples. 

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself. 

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them. 

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own. 

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop. 

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story. 

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.) 

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest. 

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.” 

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders. 

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.” 

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.” 

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.) 

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face. 

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time. 

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air. 

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise. 

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.  

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. 

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything. 

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call. 

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?” 

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame. 

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth. 

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.” 

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.” 

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs. 

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem. 

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.” 

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.” 

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it. 

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.” 

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth. 

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him. 

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.  

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.) 

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.” 

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin. 

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better. 

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can. 

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?” 

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks. 

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall. 

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.” 

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm. 

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches. 

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood. 

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.” 

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider. 

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise. 

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle. 

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad. 

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham. 

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite. 

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune. 

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple. 

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim. 

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy. 

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes. 

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it. 

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever. 

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state. 

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

[northbndtrain]

the last kingdom ep. 1x02 = uhtred & alfred (2 of 3 4)           + Uhtred visits Alfred's library for the first time.